Trouble in the Tarot (24 page)

“Sounds like a plan.”

I left Animal Angels and drove around town for the next hour, checking all the possible spots where Ozzie might be. He wasn’t anywhere in town, that was for sure. I tried calling Mitch, but he didn’t answer, so I sent him a text.

A while later, Yvonne finally called me. “Ozzie showed up with a couple of guys I’ve never seen before. They certainly didn’t look like family men. They were big and scary and…they took the dog.” Her voice hitched.

“What do you mean? Where was Cole?”

“He’s at Doc Wilcox’s but don’t worry. He’s okay. Just a bit bruised. His pride is hurt more than anything, but he’s a mess emotionally. I tried to stop them, but Ozzie fired me and kicked me out. I called the police, but Ozzie left with Biff and his thugs before they got here.”

There were only two guys I knew of who could overpower Sasquatch. The meatheads. I had checked the hotel and even the inn after my encounter with them at the monster truck rally. No one with their description had ever stayed there. I had hoped they’d left town.

Suddenly Yvonne’s words registered. “Did you see or hear where they were going?”

“When Ozzie kicked me out, I didn’t leave. I hid behind the shack and called 911. I heard him say something to the big scary guys about them taking Biff to the campsite, and that he would meet up with them later.”

Even Yvonne was calling the dog by the name Cole and Jo had given him as though it was already a fact. The dog was Cole’s, plain and simple. We all knew it. I had to find a way to stop them.

“Thanks, Yvonne. You did great.” I hung up and headed for the only campgrounds I knew of. The ones
at Divinity Beach. No wonder there was no record of the meatheads in town. Smart move of them to choose a campground instead of a hotel.

As I drove, I called Jo and she confirmed Cole was okay…yet not okay. I assured her I would do everything I could to get Biff back. She warned me not to because she didn’t want to see me get hurt, too. I told her I had backup. Then I called Mitch again. But once again, there was no answer.

I couldn’t stop worrying about Cole. The poor man had been through enough after losing his first wife, which he blamed himself for. Now he’d lost the dog on his watch. If he and Jo lost Biff for good, I was afraid Cole would never be the same.

The meatheads were loan sharks. What on earth could they want with Biff? Mitch couldn’t get mad at me this time. I’d tried to ask for his help, but I couldn’t wait. Biff needed me. Jo and Cole needed me. I would not let them down.

I arrived at the beach and headed toward the campgrounds. It was still pretty early, so things were just getting started. The sun was bright with the promise of a glorious beach day, the temperature rising quickly. Campers were stirring, the sounds of voices and the smell of bacon and eggs and coffee filling the air. I had no idea where I would find them, but I had to at least try.

I made my way along the edge of the campsites, looking for a massive dog. There were campers and tents strewn about on various lots. No sign of a Great Dane anywhere. I had almost given up when I noticed a path
that led around a corner to a private lot. Following that path, I struck gold.

Biff was tied to a tree by a camper, and a dark sedan was parked beside that. He crouched down low like he was scared to death when he saw me. I approached him slowly, cooing all the way, with one eye locked on the camper.

“It’s okay, Biff. I’m not going to hurt you, buddy,” I whispered. He whined at the word
Biff
, already recognizing it. He really was Cole’s dog.

“You be a good boy, and I’ll get you out of here.”

Biff seemed to understand I was there to help him. He let me touch the rope that was knotted around a tree, but I couldn’t get it untied. Taking a deep breath, I let my hands trail along the rope until I reached his collar. He actually let me near his humongous mouth.

It took a lot of twisting and tugging, but I finally got the rope untied. Biff surged to his massive feet, standing nearly as tall as I was. I gripped his collar tighter, when the door to the camper opened. Biff took one look at his captors…

And the race was on!

“Get her,” Meathead 1 yelled.

“I’ll get the car; you go on foot,” Meathead 2 bellowed, his voice fading in the distance as Biff pulled me along like a rag doll.

“Whoa, boy. Slow down. Easy, now,” I huffed, out of breath as I held on for dear life.

One of the meatheads was closing in fast.

Biff ran full speed, zigging and zagging around
trees, darting through campsites, and leaping over burned out fire pits. I had long since lost my flip-flops, and my feet were stinging from pinecones, needles, pebbles, and Lord knew what else, but no way was I letting go. I fell a couple of times and skinned my knees as Biff dragged me along, but I managed to get back up while still hanging on.

People hollered at us, but I had no idea what they were saying. I just kept shouting, “Sorry,” in between my yelps of pain and words of encouragement to Biff.

After taking a roundabout path, we finally reached my car. It took everything in me to dig in my heels and pull Biff to a stop. He stood there, fit as a fiddle, barely breathing hard, while my tongue hung out a good inch and my sides heaved as I struggled for air.

I fished the keys out of my pocket and opened the door to my bug. Biff barely squeezed inside, leaving just enough room for me to climb in and lock the door just in the nick of time.

Meathead 1 came barreling through the trees, and Biff cowered, whining once more.

Poor baby.

“Don’t you worry. I won’t let that big ape hurt you anymore.” I started up my car, and the big burly thug pulled out a gun. This time I was the one who let out a whine as I threw my car into drive, stomping on the gas.

Dirt and gravel kicked up and shot out from beneath my tires as I roared down the campground road much faster than the posted fifteen miles per hour suggested. Just as we reached the main road, the dark sedan appeared in my rearview mirror.

I pushed the pedal as far down as it would go, but they were still gaining on me. We had almost reached the main part of town when the sedan slammed into the back of my bug. I gasped, struggling to keep my car on the road. I had just regained control when the sedan slammed into my car again.

My poor bug couldn’t take much more. I fishtailed and then spun in a one-eighty, ending up in the ditch. The sedan stopped, and the meatheads got out. My doors were locked, but that wouldn’t do much good against a bullet.

“I’m so sorry, boy,” I said with a sob and rubbed the top of Biff’s head.

Pride filled me when he found the courage to bravely stand over me and growl out the window.

One of the meatheads pulled his gun and aimed it at my car. I wrapped my arms around Biff’s neck and closed my eyes as my body shook all over. This was it. I was going to die, never having told Mitch how much he meant to me.

A shot rang out, and I screamed.

Scuffling and shouting came from outside my window. It took me a moment to realize I wasn’t dead. I pried my eyes open and couldn’t believe what I saw. Mitch was kneeling on the back of one facedown, bleeding meathead, handcuffing his wrists. Meanwhile, a slightly roughed-up Sasquatch shoved the other handcuffed meathead into the back of the squad car.

Biff whined and pawed at the window, wagging his tail as he stared out with eyes only for Cole. I hit
the unlock button and leaned over to pull the door open. Biff shot outside and lumbered over to Cole, standing on his hind legs with his front paws on Cole’s shoulders. Cole laughed with tears in his eyes and rubbed Biff’s fur everywhere he could reach. When the dog dropped back to the ground, there was no leash necessary.

He wasn’t about to leave Cole’s side.

My driver’s-side door opened, and Mitch reached in and lifted me out. I half laughed and half sobbed as he buried his head in my neck. I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him tight.

“You’re gonna put me in an early grave, Tink,” his deep voice rumbled against my skin.

“I called you this time, I swear. I just couldn’t let Cole and Jo lose Biff.”

Mitch leaned back and searched my eyes like he wanted to say something but then planted a kiss on my lips instead. It didn’t matter. That kiss said it all.

He gently set me on my feet. “You’re a good person, Sunny.”

“How did you find us? And why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“By the time I read your text message, I had also received messages from Yvonne and Jo and Cole. I didn’t answer earlier because I was arresting Ozzie and the man who was supposed to adopt Biff. Turns out Animal Angels is a front for a dog-fighting operation.”

“You’re kidding! That’s awful.”

“Ozzie was in major debt and owed a lot of money to loan sharks. The proceeds from the charity
auction were enough to get Animal Angels going. The real money was going to come from selling the dogs to bad people involved in a whole underground dog-fighting ring.”

“What’s going to happen to Animal Angels now? Those dogs still need good homes.”

“Yvonne’s taking over. She was doing most of the work anyway.”

“That’s perfect. Those animals are lucky to have her.”

“You’re lucky. After you ruined Ozzie’s chance of winning money from the monster truck rally, and then you stole Biff, both he and the loan sharks wanted you dead.”

I swallowed hard. “Well, that’s not good.”

“Now do you see why you had me so worried? Thanks to Morty, I was able to put a stop to Ozzie’s plans. Biff was going to be his first sale, and the money was going to pay off the loan sharks.”

“But Biff’s not even mean.”

“Trust me”—Mitch’s eyes met mine with the hard truth—“he would have been by the time they were through with him.”

I shuddered at the mere thought of what they would have put that poor animal through, then Mitch’s words registered. “Wait, how did Morty help you?”

“All the clues he’s been sending. First, he dropped a dog biscuit at Granny’s feet, and then a puppy collar at Fiona’s feet. When he dropped the Summer Solstice Carnival flyer with Animal Angels featured on the front at our feet, I knew something was up. Then you told me
about Morty standing by the flyer on the back of the fire truck.”

“And the stuffed dog he shredded,” I finished. “He was trying to tell me about the dog fights, and once again, I misinterpreted what he meant.” I shook my head. “No wonder he was so frustrated with me and acting so strange lately.”

“Must be why he turned to me for help.” I gaped at Mitch, and he said, “Shocking, I know. The biggest clue was when, from out of nowhere, he showed up in my car one day with Ozzie’s business card. I looked down at the card for a mere second, but when I looked back up, he was gone. Between all that and the text messages from Yvonne, Jo, Cole, and you, I managed to find you in time. I’m just glad you’re safe now.”

“Thank you.” I touched Mitch’s cheek. “I’m just glad it’s over.”

“Just because Ozzie was arrested doesn’t prove he killed Bernadette. I have a feeling this investigation has only just begun.”

17

Tuesday morning Granny pulled her freezer bag out of the freezer and fished fifty dollars out. “Oh, my, Wally. What a workout. Good thing today’s laundry day.” Granny fanned her flushed face and perspiring brow with the bills. She wore yet another flamboyant homemade, seventies-style, yoga-pant concoction even though it felt like ninety out already.

“It was great for me. You sure do know how to Wallycise your clients, sugar,” Fiona purred, still half out of breath, and then tucked sixty dollars into the waistband of Wally’s shorts like he was one of the Chippendale dancers. She had donned another ultramodern, yet super-loud, yoga outfit and was perspiring nearly as much as Granny Gert.

“It was better for me,” Granny said. “I’m sweating more. Here, feel my head.”

“Ewww, that’s nasty,” Fiona responded. “At least I perspire like a lady. You look like your sweat glands opened up and puked a week’s worth of fluid out.”

“Ladies, it was a pleasure working with both of you,” Wally’s smooth, velvety voice rumbled as the white of his teeth blazed next to the milk-chocolate silk of his completely dry skin. He was obviously enjoying every minute of their company. “Nothing wrong with a good sweat. It means you’re working hard.” He winked.

Morty looked from Granny to Fiona to Wally and finally to me. The women didn’t know how to dress themselves any better than they dressed him. At least today he was blessedly au naturel since they’d obviously expended their energy in trying to outdo one another and left him alone for once.

Morty let out what sounded like hissing laughter, Wally did a double take, and then Morty disappeared faster than a blink. Before Wally could comment, Granny started rambling on again.

“Here’s an extra ten for making me have to use the rinse cycle twice.” Granny fluttered her lashes as she patted her scarf-covered white curls.

“Forget the rinse cycle. Here’s another five for the spin cycle, darling.” Fiona tossed back her brightly colored, bandanna-wrapped head and twittered like a cockatiel.