Yappy Hour (24 page)

“Yeah, only the storefront space is so expensive in this town that I just work out of my house.” She frowned at my hair. “Do you need a touch-up?”

I ran a hand through my hair, evaluating it. It had been a while since I'd had a trim. I agreed quickly.

“Come over Friday before the Tails and Tiaras fund-raiser. I'll doll you up. Rumor has it you have quite a few admirers.”

Evie turned her head away from the street and appraised me, smiling.

“Deal,” I said. “Come on, Beepo. We gotta go.” He darted behind the couch, out of sight.

Abigail glanced at her wristwatch. “Don't worry about him. I'm going to walk Missy before heading over to The Wine and Bark tonight. I can walk both dogs. You'll be open, right?”

“I guess it depends … was the…” I hesitated, feeling it was somehow indelicate to mention a crime scene.

“Oh, the crime scene's all cleaned up,” Evie said, shuddering. “Thank God. So gruesome.”

*   *   *

Once inside Rachel's apartment house, the pull to visit Gus was undeniable. I even lingered outside his apartment for a moment with my hand on his door, as if I could feel or touch him right through the wood. I figured calling on him after last night might be construed as too needy and decided to pass on knocking.

Pulling out the key Abigail had given me, I shoved it into the keyhole in Rachel's door. I realized the door wasn't locked.

Had I left her apartment unlocked? A chill swept me from head to toe and my stomach turned sour. Twisting the knob, I pushed open the door a crack.

“Hello?” I called out.

A voice in my head warned,
Don't go in, don't go in, DON'T go in.

What should I do? Call Officer Brooks? I bristled, thinking about our last conversation. Maybe I should just get Gus from down the hall?

My hand recoiled off the door. I should get help.

But then, before turning away, I called out again, “Heeeelloooo? Is someone there?” I was frozen at her doorway. I pushed the door open an inch further.

There was no sound from inside, but the air seemed charged with a strange energy. I sniffed and suddenly wished I'd brought Beepo with me.

I pressed the door open a bit further and could now see into the living room. I was being silly. Everything was fine.

“Hello?” I called out again, this time stepping into her apartment. My internal warning system went off, my muscles tensing. The couch was upturned, her books tossed off the shelves and onto the floor, the mail open and flung across the counter. The entire living room had been ransacked.

“Damn!” I ran to her bedroom. Her mattress was overturned and her computer gone.

Someone had come looking for something.

Had they found it?

Could it have been the gun?

I pulled my cell phone from my bag and dialed 9-1-1.

The 9-1-1 operator answered. “What is the nature of your emergency?”

“Oh, hi Jen. It's Maggie.” Part of me couldn't believe I was already on a first-name basis with the 9-1-1 operator. “I need the police over at Rachel's apartment immediately.”

“What's happened? Another uh…”

“Oh God, I hope not. Her place has been broken into. Ransacked.”

“Okay, stay out of the apartment. They could still be inside.”

I didn't have the heart to tell her I'd already poked my nose into the apartment. She was right, what if I'd interrupted the burglary? What if Dan's killer had been here? What if the killer had come barreling out of the apartment and taken me with him or her…?

Chills spiraled down my spine.

“I'm putting out a call,” the operator said. “Officer Brooks will be there in a minute.”

I waited with mixed emotions to see my favorite officer.

*   *   *

Officer Brooks had a one-of-a-kind gait; he stalked down the dark, narrow hallway with his broad shoulders practically bumping into the walls, and my heart lurched, hammering like crazy inside my chest.

I cleared my throat to calm my nervousness.

He smiled warmly at me, but there was a note of urgency in his voice. “Maggie, are you all right? What's happened?”

“Someone broke into Rachel's apartment,” I said.

Officer Brooks leveled his gaze at me. My knees turned weak as I stared back into his clear bright blue eyes. “Is anything missing?” Brooks asked me.

“As far as I can tell, only her computer,” I said.

And her gun! It's got to be missing,
I wanted to scream, but I wasn't exactly supposed to know any of that, so I kept my mouth shut and let him do the detecting.

I regretted that Rachel hadn't had better security. Surely, the person who'd taken her computer would figure out her password as easily as I had. And as for the gun, she should have had a safe!

I brought Brooks up to speed with what Yolanda had said about Rachel being in Vegas.

“She spotted her at The Mirage,” I said.

He nodded slowly at me.

“You're not surprised?” I asked.

He looked down, his eyes almost closing, and he took a moment too long to respond. “You knew?” I asked.

“Not exactly. I'd had a report…”

“I've been worried sick about her. You knew that. I didn't know where she was. Why didn't you tell me?”

“I'm sorry, Maggie. It wasn't confirmed. I—”

I turned away from him, feeling sick and confused. Why couldn't anything be easy? I felt betrayed by the guy I thought I could most likely trust, and the guy who probably wasn't trustworthy was working his way into my heart.

“Do you have any more information on Oscar's death? I talked to Melanie, Oscar's on-again, off-again girlfriend. Apparently, she was expecting him—”

“Why did you talk to her?”

“Hmm?”

“Why did you talk to Melanie?” Brooks pressed.

“Uh, I thought she might tell me something that could help us figure out—”

“Wait, wait, wait. Help us? Help us, who? You're not investigating these murders. I am.”

My throat constricted and I blinked back the tears that threatened. He was right, of course, what was I thinking? I said, “If you don't want to help me, then—”

“Help with what? I think you might be deliberately obstructing justice, here.” He glanced around the ransacked apartment. “Are you trying to mess up my investigation?”

“No! Of course not. I've told you everything I know.”

The lie was caught in my throat—I hadn't told him about the letter or the photo of Dan used as target practice at the cabin, or my suspicions about Rachel's missing gun.

He stepped close to me. “All right, I'm sorry, I don't mean to upset you. But please, next time you think that you've come across a burglary, don't go inside. Just call me, okay?”

I nodded.

He reached out and grabbed my chin, pulling my face close to his. “Promise?”

“Yes.” We were so close, I could smell mint on his breath, and even though I was upset with him, I had the crazy desire to mash my lips against his.

He dropped his hand. “I don't want anything to happen to you. Someone is desperate to cover their tracks, and it seems like you're desperate to catch them.…”

I watched his eyes, biting my tongue.

“Catching them is my job, Maggie.”

“I know,” I whispered.

“Do you trust me?”

Yes. No.

“You were trying to pin this on my sister.”

He put the small notebook away in his breast pocket. “She wouldn't very well have ransacked her own place, right?”

Something hung in the air between us. What was he implying? That I'd ransacked her apartment in order to clear her from suspicion? Or did he think I might be setting up a fake crime, so I could steal her gun and get rid of the evidence? My throat went dry and I stepped away from him.

A look of regret flashed across his face. “I'm going to find whoever is responsible, Maggie.”

A door opened and closed down the apartment corridor, and my intuition told me it was from Gus's apartment. Brooks's instincts must have played the same message, because he jolted forward. “Do any of the neighbors have keys to her apartment?”

Before I could answer, Brooks disappeared out the front door, and he called out sharply, “DelVecchio! DelVecchio! I'd like a word!”

I rushed out of the apartment behind him, nerves rattling my system and a headache threatening.

Gus stopped in front of Brooks, a look of concern on his face. He saw me running behind Brooks, and his face became unreadable.

“What is it, Officer Brooks?”

“Can you give me your whereabouts last night? I know your restaurant was closed—”

Gus's eyes darted over to Rachel's apartment door. “Is everything all right?”

I leapt forward. “Rachel's apartment has been—”

Brooks held up a hand to silence me. “Please, Maggie.”

Gus looked from me to Brooks. “The restaurant was closed. Yes. My partner's been murdered and then one of my staff.… I didn't think it was appropriate to be open for business. I'm grieving. I'm keeping the restaurant closed for now.”

Brooks feigned disinterest. “So, where were you?”

I chewed my lip.

Gus sighed. “Do you want to bring me in again for questioning? Should I bring an attorney with me this time?”

“A simple answer will do,” Brooks said.

“I was with a friend,” Gus said.

“Does your friend have a name?” Brooks asked.

“Me. He was with me,” I said.

A look of disappointment crossed Brooks's face. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Perfect. Okay. I see,” he mumbled.

 

Chapter Twenty-seven

I rearranged the table and chairs in the lounge area while Max set up behind the bar. He fixed me a stiff cocktail and then one for himself. I watched him carefully as he worked side by side with me to get ready for Yappy Hour. Tomorrow was the big Tails and Tiaras fund-raiser, and I couldn't wait to find Rachel so I wouldn't have to be in charge of anything.

I daydreamed about getting the job on the cruise line and sailing away. Why hadn't they called me yet? Was it the watercooler fiasco?

Beepo and the beagle with the plush bunny in its mouth alternated between watching Max and I prep the bar and looking out the window, awaiting the crowd.

“I think you've got your hands full, Maggie.”

“I know.” I eyed him. “I keep having the awful premonition that I'm going to find another body tomorrow during Tails and Tiaras.”

“Oh God. Don't say that, you'll jinx us.”

“Are you superstitious?” I asked.

He shrugged and took a drag off his cocktail. “Sort of.”

“Well, I won't talk about it then. I don't want to spook you. I wouldn't be able to do any of this without you. Thanks for your help.”

He laughed. “Well, I had a meeting with an angel investor yesterday. It didn't go well. So I might have to ask you for a full-time job.”

I wiped down the bar. “What happened with your angel?”

Max dumped a bucket of ice into the ice well. “Ack. The same thing they all say. There's a similar technology already available, blah, blah.”

I thought about Dan, and then about the fight Norma had told me Max and Dan had had. I'd asked Max about it at his beach house, but I hadn't gotten a straight answer. I watched as he shifted the bottle around. He was strong. He could have easily killed another man with a blow to the head. I shifted away from him and asked, “Max, what exactly did you fight over with Dan?”

Max sighed. “Oh, it's not important now.”

I took in a deep breath. “Since he was killed in my sister's bar … well, I think it's important,” I said, suddenly scared of the answer.

“Brenda,” Max said.

I laughed. “Really?”

He nodded. “Dan and Rachel had been broken up a few weeks, and he seemed to be sniffing around Brenda.”

“Are you guys together?”

“I wish. But he was saying some pretty rude things around town about her and, well, I just couldn't stand it. I confronted him and it got a little vocal, but it didn't come to blows or anything. I have to say the guy was a class-A jerk.”

“Did Brenda know he was talking about her?” That could be a motive, right? Kill someone to save your own reputation. Although it seemed far-fetched to me. Brenda was an attorney, and she seemed so small and delicate, I couldn't picture her whacking a man over the head with a wine bottle. Max, on the other hand … how far would he go to protect her reputation?

Max shook his head. “I don't think so.”

“Are you going to ask her out?”

He reddened. “No way, she's out of my league.”

“You think so? Why?”

Beepo, who'd taken to following me around, bolted toward the door and yowled like crazy.

Max laughed. “The crew must be approaching.”

Through the window of the bar, we could see a crowd forming on the patio, two women I hadn't seen before alongside Brenda and Abigail. Every one of them had a small dog attached to the end of a Wine and Bark Day-Glo-green leash. They had just come from the Roundup Crew walk on the beach and all were decked out in walking shorts and sneakers, except for Brenda, who was dressed in her signature black clothes with a striking pair of three-inch-high Louboutin pumps in fire-engine red.

She must have walked barefoot on the beach, but judging by the way Max whistled when he saw her, I got the distinct impression she'd worn the shoes to the bar for his benefit.

The door flung open and they streamed into the bar, the energy instantly changing with their laughter and chitchat. One of the women I hadn't seen before approached the bar. Her hair was cut short and she had a tomboy appearance. On the end of her leash was a small poodle. Beepo went absolutely mad barking at the woman and her dog. The woman only laughed at him, which actually stoked my ire.