Get Fluffy (9 page)

Chapter Fifteen

After the meeting with Mona’s lawyer, I was bursting at the seams. I needed a large chai latte and someone to talk to. Darby agreed to meet at the Koffee Klatch, a cozy local coffee shop with the best cheesecake in town. With its chic atmosphere and big comfy couches, it was the perfect place to bring the dogs and assimilate everything I’d just learned.

And I’d learned a boatload.

Fluffy, Missy and I had arrived before Darby. The deeply rich aroma saturated the air. I inhaled slowly. The smell of coffee was all I liked about the product. It didn’t seem to matter how much I doctored the addicting brew, it always tasted bitter.

Missy devoured the dog treat the barista tossed her. Snob Dog watched hers hit the floor. Never one to pass up a free doggie treat, Missy ate that one, too.

We claimed the purple couch toward the back and waited. Missy sat on my lap and Fluffy sat on the floor next to us in her regal boredom. I don’t think Fluffy cared for the trendy décor.

Darby blew in, a happy smile plastered on her face. Dressed in jeans, green tunic, knit scarf and flats, she waved excitedly when she saw us. She ordered her usual white mocha latte and a pumpkin bar.

Once she had her drink and snack, I motioned her over to where we were camped out.

“I can’t believe you still have Fluffy.” She plopped down across from me, dropping her canvas tote on the floor next to her feet. “So what’s going on? You were talking so fast on the phone I could barely understand you.”

She set her plate on the side table, pried off the lid on her drink and blew on the steaming liquid.

A quiet whirl of laptop computers was the only sound from the shop at the moment. I looked around making sure no one was listening. “I don’t even know where to start. I just came from Owen Quinn’s office.”

“Who?”

“Mona’s lawyer,” I whispered. “Short, dark-haired fast-talker guy.”

Darby leaned in. “Why did you meet with him?” She matched her tone with mine.

“Mona made me Fluffy’s guardian four years ago and never changed her will.”

“What?” she asked, wide-eyed.

“I had the same reaction. What in the world was she thinking?”

Darby stared at me, bewilderment frozen on her face, holding up her latte.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

She nodded and took a sip, then immediately cringed. She must have burnt her tongue.

“So you share custody with Cliff?” she asked.

“Apparently, he only had visitation rights.”

“I thought they both owned her? That they had joint custody.”

I sucked down some of my chai before explaining. “I saw the official document. I think they let people believe what they wanted. He doesn’t have any legal claim other than he gets to visit her every Wednesday and every other weekend.”

“Are you dropping off Fluffy in Dana Point?”

I shook my head. “Cliff’s a complete jackass. I called him yesterday. He made it perfectly clear You-Know-Who was my problem now. And get this, he admitted he only fought for Fluffy because it hurt Mona.”

“How selfish.”

“Dysfunctional with a capital D, but not unexpected.” We were quiet for a minute, each lost in our own thoughts.

I stroked Missy who snored delicately on my lap. I tucked a handful of napkins under her mouth to sop up her drool. Eventually, Darby nibbled on her pumpkin bar. I couldn’t get over how an hour long meeting had changed my life so dramatically.

“Are you okay with all this?” I asked.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You didn’t like Mona, and you’re not a big Fluffy fan,” I said. “And until something changes, she’s stuck with us.”

“First of all, no one is a Fluffy fan. Secondly, Mona and I were nothing more than strangers who didn’t get along.” She swallowed the last bite of her dessert and chased it down with some latte.

I waited until she’d finished before I shared the next tidbit of info. “Owen didn’t tell me anything about the estate. But he did tell me how much You-Know-Who is worth.” I nodded toward Fluffy who had finally lay down at our feet and fallen asleep.

Darby followed my gaze. “How much?”

“Just over twenty-five million dollars.”

Her mouth fell open. “She left her money to her dog?”

I shook my head. “That’s
Fluffy’s
money, from her ‘acting.’ I didn’t see a will. Owen needed to talk to some other people first,” I said quietly.

“Cliff is going to freak out.”

“I’m sure he already knows.”

Darby shook her head, her blond curls bobbing in unison. “If he knew, Fluffy would already be in his possession.”

Good point. “Owen did say the will stipulates Fluffy’s money can only be spent on her care. Well, except for the insurance money.”

“There’s an insurance policy too?” she squeaked.

“Mona had two
insurance policies, but Fluffy was only the beneficiary of the smaller one. He wouldn’t go into detail about the other.”

“I’m afraid to ask, but how much?”

“One million. Can you imagine?”

“No. I can’t.”

“Me either. Why in the world would she make me the caretaker?”

Darby reached over and stroked Missy. “Be careful. Once word gets out about Fluffy, Cliff will change his mind.”

“Owen said if I want to be legally removed as guardian, I have to file some paperwork. The process could take a while.”

“Melinda, this is weird. What are you going to do?”

“I have no idea. Fluffy’s not my kind of dog. I’m sure there’s someone out there who’d love her as much as Mona did.” I looked over at Snob Dog. I felt compassion, but not the overwhelming connection like I had with Missy.

“What did Grey say?” Darby asked.

“He’s out of town on a buying trip. I haven’t told him yet. He really misses Colbalt. Maybe he’d like to foster Fluffy.”

We laughed in unison. I couldn’t really see Fluffy at Grey’s place.

“Where’s Grey this time? Somewhere exotic? I’m so jealous.”

“I don’t remember,” I lied and looked down at Missy. Darby was sure to interpret my actions as missing Grey. I hated keeping secrets from my best friend.

We sat in silence for a few minutes sipping our drinks.

“Oh, I almost forgot. I’m being sued,” I said.

Darby’s head jerked up. “By who?”

“Tova. For a million dollars.”

“Why?”

“Apparently, she lost a
Sports Illustrated
photo shoot because of flea bites on her legs. She is suing me for compensation for Kiki’s treatment, lost wages and mental anguish.”

“That’s ridiculous. Who’s representing her?”

“Some ambulance chaser. I’m sure as soon as he figured out I’m part of the ‘Texas Montgomery’ clan, he immediately saw dollar signs.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I called Nigel, the family lawyer. He said it ‘probably’ won’t go anywhere, but he did urge me to counter sue.”

“For what?”

“For defamation of character.”

I could only imagine Mama’s reaction to this whole mess. If she thought the Miss America humiliation was bad, she’d go into hiding when she learned about a flea lawsuit.

We both looked at Fluffy who suddenly sat up and thought it was appropriate to lick herself in public.

“The world’s gone crazy,” Darby said on a sigh.

“You ain’t just whistling Dixie.”

Chapter Sixteen

For now, it seemed there was no way out of caring for Fluffy. I broke down and decided to pick up a few of her personal items. I’d called Malone, and he’d said the house was no longer a crime scene. He’d also mentioned Camilla, Mona’s housekeeper, was there to inventory Mona’s estate.

During our brief conversation, it had dawned on me, Malone had known all along I was Fluffy’s new guardian, and he hadn’t said a word. He was very good at keeping secrets.

I dropped off the dogs at home, then drove over to Mona’s. I parked the Jeep (I’d switched to the hard top earlier that morning) and skedaddled to the front door.

I rang the bell and cringed. Hopefully the new owner would replace that thing.

The door opened, and there stood Camilla in slacks and blouse. She looked very attractive. I wondered if she’d burned the unflattering black uniform Mona had insisted she wear.

“Hi, Camilla. I came by to pick up some of Fluffy’s things.”

“Miz Melinda. You bring Fluffy?” She stepped back and welcomed me inside.

“I left her at my place. I didn’t think bringing her home was good for her. Did you know Mona named me Fluffy’s guardian?”

“Si. I hear.” She closed the door. “I have Fluffy’s things for you.” Her light accent echoed throughout the palatial foyer.

I followed her to the sunroom. Sure enough, it was packed to the top of the white crown molding with Fluffy’s belongings. The luxurious couches and tables were covered with boxes, crates and leaning stacks of dog stuff. There was more inventory here than I carried during tourist season.

Brushes, combs, hair clips, hair products, dog food, Waterford crystal dog bowls. Blankets, toys, CDS, DVDS, clothing, a dog bed, pillows, pictures. You get the idea.

Lord have mercy, there was no way it would all fit in my Jeep. “I don’t need all of this.” I waved my hand at the mess in front of us.

“These are Fluffy’s belongings. You must take them.”

“I’d have to rent a moving truck to get this back to my place. Even then I wouldn’t have room for everything.”

She nodded. “Miz Mona spoiled Fluffy.”

Or Mona was a hoarder. Either way it was obvious she was two sandwiches short of a picnic.

“Tell me what I absolutely must take.” I refastened my ponytail, securing all the stray hairs around my face and sighed. “Everything else can stay here until I figure out what I’m going to do.”

“You not keep Fluffy?” her accent grew more pronounced. She shook her head and pointed a finger at me. “You have to. Miz Mona trusted you to keep Fluffy safe.”

“What do you mean, safe?”

She crossed herself. “She trusted you.”

“How do you know?”

She just stared at me with that knowing look that said people in her position knew more than they should, but she wasn’t one to gossip.

“You might as well talk. Mona’s dead. She can’t punish you for spillin’ the beans.”

She wrung her hands, obviously nervous to repeat Mona’s words. “She said you were impulsive, had no fashion sense, and sabotaged your one shot at success.”

Mona had a lot to say. Just because I preferred jeans and t-shirts (today’s shirt read,
Sit Happens
), didn’t mean I wasn’t fashionable. I didn’t argue the other two. They were pretty accurate.

“She also said you wouldn’t ever use her Fluffy.”

Well heck, when did I get so predictable?

“That’s all nice and very Mona-like, but that doesn’t convince me Fluffy’s in danger or why I’m her only option for a well-adjusted life.”

Camilla regarded me with a stubborn set to her mouth and refused to say more.

“I’m not taking all of this home. I came for a brush, food and hair product.”

Camilla was suddenly in motion. “You must take her favorite bowl. And pictures. She can’t forget Miz Mona. Oh, and home movies.”

She was like a wild woman piling Fluffy’s belongings at my feet.

“I have a Jeep not a U-Haul,” I reminded her.

“She likes filtered water and her bathrobe. Nail clippers, toothbrush, breath mints, clean-up bags, vitamins
 . . .
”

“Whoa. Hold on there.”

Camilla stopped in the middle of tossing the plastic bottle of vitamins.

“Give me the bowl, brush, bathing products and food.”

“No pictures?” she looked pleadingly at me.

“Fine. Pick one,” I relented.

“And a home movie?”

“You’re pushing it.”

She hid a small smile as she gathered the few items I agreed to take, loaded them into a huge designer dog bed.

“You and Fluffy get along. It will be good. You see.” She patted my arm.

“Whatever you say, Camilla. I can see you’re in charge now.”

I pretended not to see her sneak a movie, a large envelope (which was probably full of pictures) and a doggie cookbook on the pile. I didn’t want to break her heart, but I wasn’t cooking for Mona’s dog.

With Camilla’s help we carried everything to the Jeep and somehow managed to shove it all inside. (At the last minute, she’d insisted I take all of Fluffy’s tiaras and a small safe to store them. The dog actually had a safe.) I left with my Fluffy items and headed home. I couldn’t worry about the mess I was leaving behind. I had a feeling I was driving into an even bigger one.

It had been a long and stressful day.
My neck was stiff, and my back was sore. I’d cleaned out the guest room (AKA junk room) and made room for Fluffy and her belongings. I left a number of items in a small box in the closet, planning to get to them later.

So far Fluffy was unimpressed with the setup and continued to nap on my bed. I crossed my fingers that by bedtime she’d prefer her own room.

A long soak in the tub was in order. But first I wanted my special peanut butter cookie and a mug of milk. My mouth watered in anticipation.

Missy and Fluffy staked out the kitchen doorway in a doggie trance waiting for me to drop dough. I’m sure the smell of freshly baked cookies was making their mouths drool. I know mine was.

I’d just pulled the last batch from the oven when my cell phone rang, interrupting my baking party. Mama’s name flashed on the screen. It rang three more times before I picked up.

“Hello, Mama.”

“I can’t believe you let me hear about Mona on the news. You were brought up better than that, Sugar.” Her confident voice and teased, bottle-blond hair carried across the miles.

I pulled out a hands-free ear bud from my junk drawer and continued transferring cookies onto the cooling rack.

“I’ve been a little preoccupied. How’s Daddy?” I asked.

My daddy was a saint. John “Jack” Langston had managed to stay married to Mama for almost thirty-five years. Mama had trapped Daddy when she was nineteen. Daddy didn’t seem to mind. (He said no one ever forced him to do anything he didn’t want to. I believed him.) Mama acted like it hadn’t really happened. But my brother Mitch existed, and at times I believed he paid the price for Mama’s reckless decision.

“He’s fine. What happened to Mona?” she asked. No,
demanded
.

“She was murdered.”

“Oh, Melinda. Why are you so difficult? You know what I’m talking about. Who did it? Was it an intruder or someone she knew? What happened?”

I dumped the dirty cookie sheets into the sink. I took a deep breath of patience, keeping in mind they were childhood friends. “The police don’t confide in me, Mama.”

“I heard Fluffy was the one to find her and called 9-1-1.”

I smiled. “Ah, no. Fluffy can’t use a phone. That was me.”

“You found her?”

“No, that was Fluffy.”

She was quiet for a second. I took that opportunity to fill the mixing bowl with water.

“Who has the dog, Melinda?” she asked, exasperated.

I looked at Fluffy whose eyes begged for cookies. “Me.”

“You already have a dog.” She didn’t shriek. That wasn’t acceptable from someone with her pedigree. But her normally soft Texas accent thickened.

“A number of people have more than one dog. Mona thought I should be guardian. So Fluffy’s here, either hogging my bed or sleeping on my couch.” I poured myself a mug of milk.

“Why would you ever let her share your bed? Doesn’t she have her own? What if she has fleas? Really, Melinda, don’t you think about these things?”

The vexation in her voice drummed in my ears. It was time to change the subject—or hang up. “What happened between the two of you? You and Mona.”

“Back in the day, Mona was wild and fun. But, if you got on her bad side, she could be very nasty,” she stated, more than a little vinegar in her tone. Then in the next breath, she changed her mind. “That’s all water under the bridge. It’s neither here nor there.”

“Mama—”

“It’s not important, Melinda.”

It was to me. I grabbed a warm cookie and my milk, and sat at the breakfast bar. The dogs followed and staked out the floor next to my stool.

“What did she say when she called you?” I asked.

“Honey, we haven’t talked in years. Why would she call me?”

There was no hesitation in Mama’s voice. A fire burned in my gut. Mona had lied. “She said some horrible things about you at the Fur Ball,”
even if they were true
, “and I lost my temper.”

“Oh, Melinda Sue. Why must you be so reckless? What have you done now?”

I broke a peanut butter cookie in half and dunked it in the milk. “Nothing you’d approve of, I can promise you that much. The only reason I’m probably not a suspect in her murder is because I have an alibi.”

“Shh. Don’t talk like that.”

“Well, someone hated her so much they killed her.” I popped my pre-bedtime snack into my mouth. Delicious.

“You’re assuming Mona was killed out of hate. It could just as easily been because of jealousy or love or money.”

I tapped the side of the mug. “Which of those would Cliff fall under?”

“All of them. That heathen is as crooked as a snake. You’re not giving him that dog, are you?”

I looked to my right at Fluffy. “He doesn’t want her.”

“Of course not.”

“Why did Mona marry him in the first place?”

“Cliff is very charming when he’s not
 . . .
knee deep in his vices.”

Leave it to Mama to skirt around calling Cliff a drunk. I chowed down the other half of the cookie.

“Enough about Mona and that dreadful topic, have you heard from Mitchell lately?” She tried to sound nonchalant, but anyone who knew my mother would recognize that slight lift of her voice on my brother’s name.

The real reason for her late night call. It was only eight-thirty in California, but back in Dallas, it was ten-thirty. Past former Miss Texas’ bedtime.

“Not recently.”

My brother was an architect working in Las Vegas. He specialized in luxury hotels and was hardly at his Dallas home. Mitch felt like the black sheep of the family. He wasn’t. He just picked up on Mama’s guilt.

To be fair, he was the perfect child. I, on the other hand, was probably why my parents’ hair had turn prematurely grey under that bottle color.

“Your big brother is hiding something.”

I broke a second cookie in half and dunked it in the milk. “Because he hasn’t called?” He’d probably talked to Daddy instead. But if we didn’t talk to Mama once a week, she was convinced we were hiding something. The problem was, we probably were.

“I was just talking to him. He was as chatty as a magpie.”

That
was
suspicious. Langston men were not talkative. “What did he say?” I asked with my mouthful.

“He was still in Las Vegas working on his hotel. He’s thinking about buying a house there. He wouldn’t be home for a while, but not to worry, he was fine.”

I swallowed. Mitch never shared details about his life. Any details Mama knew, she’d have learned from the media.

“Are you sure he told you this? You’re not assuming? You didn’t read about it somewhere?”

“I know the difference between Mitchell’s voice and mine. Call him and find out what’s going on.”

“Mama, Mitch is a grown man. He doesn’t have to answer to the family every time he does something you don’t like.” But of course I was going to call. He may be hiding something from our mama, but odds were he’d tell me.

“You’ll call him. You know you’d feel terrible if something happened to your only brother, and you didn’t help him.”

I hated it when she played the guilt card.

Missy, who was still under my stool, rolled over and exposed her belly. I continued to rub her. “If he doesn’t want you to know something, I’m not going to tattle on him.”

“You will tell me. Or I’ll call Kat and convince her it’s time to visit y’all.”

Holy crapola. This was serious business. Mama and Aunt Kat, together. Here. Caro would kill me.

For a threat, it worked.