Yappy Hour (16 page)

Max shifted uncomfortably. “Not really.”

“I heard you two had a disagreement.”

The Bloody Mary tumbler slipped between his fingers and splattered onto the deck. “Oh shoot! Sorry about that!”

We both stood, then Max scooted inside for a broom.

How strange. Had he dropped the glass on purpose? Instead of answering the question, created a diversion? I'd have to remember that tactic the next time Officer Brooks pinned me down on a topic. The thought of Brooks sent my mind spinning in another direction entirely. Where was he today?

Max returned with a broom, and he swept away the mess. When he finished, he asked, “Who did you hear that from?”

“Norma,” I said.

Max nodded. “Right. I bumped into Dan outside of the Meat and Greet. He made a few unsavory cracks and we had a little bit of heated exchange. Norma must have overheard us. The truth is, I barely knew Dan. It's just that he was kind of a jerk.”

I drained the rest of my cocktail and got up. “Thanks for the drink, Max. Are you going to be around tonight?”

He glanced at his watch. “Yes. I've got some work to finish up, and then I'll be around.”

I leveled a gaze at him. “Do you happen to have a key to the bar?”

He frowned. “No. Why? Do you need me to open it up?”

I shook my head as I bussed my glass back to the kitchen. “No, just wondering.” I noticed the plush bunny was still on the table where he left it. “Oh, where's your dog?” I asked, pointing to the bunny.

Max shuffled his feet and got an odd look on his face. “Uh … yeah … Bowser's asleep. He'll be happy to see the bunny when he wakes up. Thanks for coming by, Maggie.”

I left the beach house with an odd feeling. Max was definitely hiding something … but what?

*   *   *

The sun was getting higher in the sky, burning off the coastal fog that had tried to cool Pacific Cove. I figured now was as good a time as any to pay Officer Brooks a visit. The police station was on the east side of town, and by the time I arrived, my back was drenched with sweat.

Inside, the police station was institutional and sparse. Two uniformed officers sat at computer stations, one on the phone, the other surfing the net, no doubt. A woman officer glanced up when I came in and looked annoyed at being disturbed.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Is Officer Brooks in?” I asked.

Her faced twitched, clearly displeased with me. She indicated a hard plastic chair by the door. “Have a seat, please.”

She turned on a heel and disappeared down a narrow corridor. She reappeared a few moments later trailed by Brooks. My breath caught as I watched his frame fill the doorway.

He didn't smile to see me, but his eyes lit up. I hoped that refraining from a smile was for the benefit of his colleague and not me.

“Maggie,” he said. “Come on back to my office.”

I followed him down the darkened corridor to a bright room. On his desk was a framed photo of a woman on a beach. The woman was a few years older than me, and striking. She looked liked a swimsuit model, lean and tan with legs that went on forever. In the photo, she gripped the hand of a towheaded boy. A pang of jealousy twitched around my heart.

He caught me looking at the photo. “My mom.”

I picked up the frame. “Is that you?”

“Yup.” He took the frame out of my hand and replaced it on the desk. He was very serious; something was up.

“What can I do for you?”

“I have an eyewitness that Rachel is on a Soleado Cruise,” I said, digging into my bag and pulling out the postcard. I handed it to him.

He squinted. “What is this?”

“It's a postcard Coral painted. She's Norma's daughter.”

He dropped the postcard on the desk. “I know who Coral is. But this doesn't prove anything.”

“What do you mean? She saw Rachel get on the boat.” I gestured to the card. “She painted her.”

He shook his head. “The painting is of the back of a dark-haired woman. It could be you. In fact, it could be you walking with Gus DelVecchio.”

Ah! That's what this was about.

“The woman in the painting has light-colored hair. I dropped chocolate ice cream on the card.”

He snorted.

“And it's not Gus. I don't know who the guy is. Maybe it's Chuck, the guy she eloped with.”

“Look, I've already reviewed the ship's passenger list. Rachel Patterson isn't on it.”

A muscle behind my eye throbbed, causing my left to twitch, and I swore it made me look like a madwoman; either that, or Brooks might think I was winking at him.

When I remained silent, Brooks said, “Look, I'm really sorry, Maggie, but we have to examine the facts here. Dan was found in Rachel's bar. He and Rachel used to date. No one can get ahold of her—”

“Rachel didn't kill Dan! Just because he was found at the bar … it doesn't mean anything. There're other people in town who could have done it. Did you know Dan and Max had an argument outside of the Meat and Greet? Talk to Norma—”

“Brooks,” a voice barked from the down the hall.

Brooks straightened his shoulders and took in a deep breath.

By the way he'd steadied himself, I knew trouble was a brewing.

Sergeant Gottlieb stuck his bald head into the room, his dark bushy eyebrows furrowed. He started when he saw me. “Oh, excuse me. I didn't know you had company, Brooks.” The way he spat it out made me feel like I'd overstayed my welcome.

I picked up the card from the desk and stuffed it back into my bag. “Sorry to bother you,” I muttered to Brooks.

He gave me a sharp nod, almost a dismissal, yet there was something else in his face. An apology?

I stormed out of the station more determined than ever to get to the bottom of things. The police were hell-bent on blaming this awful crime on Rachel, and I had to help her.

 

Chapter Eighteen

Down the street was the Bradford and Blahnik store. I entered and was startled to see Brenda there. She was holding a pair of chartreuse strappy sandals by Manolo Blahnik. She smiled when she saw me. “Oh, hi, Maggie! Are you here for a fitting?”

“A fitting?” I asked.

“Oh, or…” She put down the sandal and smoothed down her skirt. “Are you here for a consult?”

The chrome handle to the door was heating up in my hand and part of me wanted to turn tail and run.

“Uh. I … I don't know. I guess I'm here to see Bradford.”

She grinned widely and stuck her hand out. “Welcome! I'm Brenda Bradford.”

I tried to hide my surprise. “I didn't realize you were an attorney.”

“Come on in,” Brenda said, putting the Manolos back in the box. “I was admiring the new shipment.”

“They're stunning,” I said.

She wiggled her eyebrows at me. “I give a fifty percent discount on shoes to clients.”

I glanced back at the strappy sandals. “Tempting.”

But first I'd have to get a paycheck, and one thing about working at The Wine and Bark was that I wasn't actually getting paid.

Brenda walked me through a small adjoining room to her office. Her office was small and cramped, but immaculate. Her Chihuahua, Pee Wee, was nestled in a blue doggie bed in the corner of the office. He lifted his head and opened an eye upon hearing us enter, but must have considered me boring because he dropped his head and snuggled down to continue his nap.

“Do you want some coffee?” Brenda asked.

“No, thank you, I'm fine.”

“What can I help you with?” she asked.

“Well, I guess I need to talk to you about Dan.”

She held up a manicured hand. “Wait a second, Maggie. I have to tell you that I'm not a criminal lawyer.”

I nodded. “I understand. There's a rumor The Wine and Bark could be held liable for Dan's death.”

Brenda pressed her lips together and thought for a moment. “So, are you looking at a civil suit?”

“Oh God, I hope not. But I guess, I just wanted to see if that was even a possibility.”

Brenda shrugged. “Perhaps.”

The door to the main storefront jangled open and a familiar voice called out “Hello?”

Brenda sprang up. “Oh, Maggie, can you excuse me a minute?”

As Brenda made her way around her huge glass desk, the familiar voice, followed by an even more familiar and annoying bark, echoed throughout the store. Yolanda popped her head in the doorway. “Brenda. Oh! Oops. Sorry to disturb you. I didn't know you had a client.”

I turned to face Yolanda. Her face was a mixture of surprise and delight at finding the next gossip item.

“Mags! What you doing here?” Yolanda shrilled.

Beepo yapped at my heel.

Brenda took Yolanda's elbow. “You know, whatever goes on in here is always confidential.”

Yolanda pressed a hand over her heart. “Of course! I wouldn't dream of breaching any attorney-client confidences.”

Brenda pressed her lips together and escorted Yolanda out of the office; Beepo remained at my feet and growled.

“Shoo,” I said.

He bared his teeth and nipped at my ankle, his wet nose pressing up against my skin. I yelped.

“Beeeeeepooooo,” Yolanda trilled. “Don't be naughty!”

I rose from the buttery leather chair and went out to the shoe area, Beepo following me yapping. Yolanda tsked at him and picked him up.

Two hideous bags were propped by the door. One was in the shape and likeness of a pig and the other in the shape of a frog.

I gasped. These bags were just like the chicken bag at Designer Duds.

Yolanda mistook my horror for some sort of appreciation, because she said, “Oh! You like them?” She thrust the frog purse at me. “Green goes with your eyes.”

“I … uh…” I glanced at Brenda for help, but her look of horror caused me to erupt into a fit of giggles.

Brenda stepped forward and gently pushed the frog bag back toward Yolanda. “Maggie is under quite a bit of stress.”

Yolanda clutched the frog bag to her chest, the bag and Beepo competing for space. Beepo growled at the frog. At least I had company thinking the thing was hideous. Maybe Beepo wasn't so bad, after all.

“Hush, now!” Yolanda said to the dog. “You know it took Momma hours to design this beauty.” She turned to Brenda and me and said, “I call it Le Petite Frog Prince.”

Laughter overtook me, and in trying to repress it, I snorted and choked. Brenda thumped me on the back. “Yes, well, Yolanda. What can I do for you?”

Yolanda scanned the shelves: leather boots, designer sandals, and colorful pumps littered the store. “Any new deliveries?”

Brenda marched over to the Manolos she'd promised me 50 percent off of. “These strappy Blahniks came in.”

Yolanda dropped Beepo and shoved Le Petite Frog Prince at me again. Her arms free, she half squealed and gasped as she stretched her hands toward the Manolos. “Oh my! Those are out of this world!”

I tried not to feel offended. After all, even if she bought them there'd be other shoes I could indulge in. A pair of mulberry-colored pumps caught my eye.

Yolanda flung her heels off and shoved her foot into the strappy sandals. “What size are they?” She reminded me of one of Cinderella's stepsisters trying to squish her foot into the glass slipper. She extended her leg out gracefully. “What do you think, Maggie?”

“I think it matches Le Petite Frog Prince beautifully,” I said, holding the frog purse next to the shoe.

Yolanda's foot recoiled, just as Beepo launched toward the purse. I suddenly felt like a matador flinging a cape outside of the bull's reach.

Yolanda stood and collected Beepo in her arms. “I'll take the shoes, Brenda. Can we make room for some of my bags in your window?”

Brenda looked as if she had sucked on a sour lemon. “Oh, darling. You know I'm waiting on a shipment from—”

Yolanda waved a hand around madly. “I won't take no for an answer.” She pushed aside some shoes in the window display. “There, I found room. You know these are handcrafted and go for five hundred dollars. And yes, even though they are displayed at Designer Duds, they aren't moving very fast—because, well, have you seen the awful things they have at that store? My bag is right next to an awful captain's jacket with anchors. I mean, pul-ease!”

Yolanda turned from the window and squinted at me, the frog purse still in my hands. “You know, Maggie, you should keep the purse. It goes with your eyes.”

“My eyes are brown.”

“Well, that's what I mean!” Yolanda shrieked. “Brown and green camo—it's the latest fad.”

I looked at Brenda for help, but she was snickering as she put her window display back in order. “I'll ring you up for those shoes now, Yolanda.”

Yolanda sashayed over to the cash register and pulled out a credit card. “Maggie, have you given any thought to the rental space at the bar? Can I please have Evie's side?”

“Who owns the building?” Brenda asked.

“My great-uncle. He rents the space to Rachel for The Wine and Bark.”

Yolanda's eyes grew wide. “What?”

I looked from Brenda to Yolanda then back to Brenda. Brenda grimaced. “What?” I asked.

“Can you talk to him for me? I've been begging Rachel to let me lease that part of The Wine and Bark for my bags for so long, but you know, maybe you can convince your uncle to lease the entire space out to me. I'll pay good rent. And after all, who knows how long the bar can stay open with the money it's losing.”

I froze.

The bar was losing money?

“What do you mean? The bar is losing money?” I managed to choke out.

“Well, sure, everyone knows that. It's closed every day until Yappy Hour. I could make a storefront out of the storage room. There's two big rooms. Rachel only uses one.”

“Evie uses the space Yolanda wants, though,” Brenda said.