Fifty Shades of Greyhound (The Pampered Pets Mystery Series) (4 page)

I’VE FOUND THE best way to deal with a daunting task is to tackle it.

I couldn’t deal with Mel and her mischief right away. I’d had no luck with Malone and the brooch, but I had finally reached Verdi. She’d agreed to help me over lunch the next day with organizing the list of Greyhound owners whom I needed to contact. I truly needed the help, and I also thought it might give us a chance to talk.

So, the following day, after a couple of morning appointments, I picked up two salads and headed to the office.

Verdi looked up as I came through the doorway. You could tell she, like Blanche, wasn’t herself. Her ready smile was absent, her face was pale, her eyes held the traces of a sleepless night, and even her burgundy hair drooped.

“Everyone out?” I asked.

“They are.” She pushed aside the mail she’d been sorting. “Kay is showing a house. I haven’t heard from Dave. Suzanne isn’t scheduled in until three o’clock for her first appointment.”

A real estate broker, an accountant, a psychic, and a pet therapist. Only in Laguna, huh? I often said, our office lineup sounds like the beginning to a bad joke. Still, it worked for us. And Verdi had been a great addition for us. Our office needs were few, but we appreciated having someone as well-organized as Verdi to sort the mail, pay the bills, and keep track of the details for us.

“I brought us some lunch. Come on in and eat with me.” I motioned her to follow as I carried the files I’d used that morning and the takeout bag. Verdi had just brewed some green tea, and she carried a couple of glasses into my office.

We made quick work of the list Blanche had emailed to me. Verdi added a column for location and quickly re-sorted into groups by location.

“I’ll call each set of owners and use your calendar to schedule appointments,” she said. “If they’re not interested, I’ll note that in the comments.”

“Thanks, hon. I sure appreciate the help.” I smiled at her. “Now let’s eat.”

I set out the salads, and we settled into the comfy chairs. We were both silent for a few moments.

“I’m sure the police talked to you.” I kept my voice neutral.

“Yeah.” She picked at the spinach and avocado on her salad. “Detective Malone came to my apartment.”

“The night of the fund-raiser?” I asked.

Verdi nodded. Even with her Goth-girl look, the kid was as cute as a speckled pup, but right now, she was one dejected puppy. “I don’t know where Eugene is. I don’t know why he took off. But I know he didn’t do it.” Her voice quivered on the last word.

“Have you heard from him?” I had to ask.

She shook her head. “I know the detective didn’t believe me, but I haven’t.”

“Your parents named you Verdi, but your twin brother is named Eugene?” It had been bothering me for a while, and I just had to ask. Not that all twins had to have similar names, but the two monikers seemed very dissimilar.

She popped a whole wheat crouton in mouth and chewed.

“No, my given name is Eugenia.” She laid the salad box aside and folded her legs under her. “I had it legally changed to Verdi when I was old enough. My mom and dad didn’t understand, but Eugenia just doesn’t fit who I am. It was more about how they saw me. I had to be myself.”

“I see.” I really did. No one knew better than I about breaking away from a parent’s expectations. Mama had been fit to be tied when I’d told her no more beauty pageants.

“Our parents weren’t bad, but they were very restrictive. Eugene rebelled by getting into trouble. I rebelled in other ways.” She touched her maroon locks with a slight smile. “Our family’s kind of difficult to explain.”

I could understand about difficult-to-explain families.

Heck, I had a cousin in town I wasn’t speaking to, and a mother out of town who I fervently wished was not speaking to me.

“Do your folks live here in Orange County?”

“No, they’re not even in California anymore. They moved north to Oregon. I have a phone number for them, but I’m not going to call and tell them Eugene is in trouble.”

“I know, sugar.” I wanted to hug the girl, she looked so darned fragile. “I’m afraid, though, that the police will contact them trying to find Eugene.”

She looked up, startled. Apparently, that idea hadn’t occurred to her.

“That would be worse, wouldn’t it, hon?”

She gulped and nodded.

“Let’s talk about where Eugene might have gone. Do you know his friends? Are they here in town? Would he have left the area?”

“I don’t know, Caro. He had a bunch of geeky friends in high school, but he doesn’t keep in touch with any of them as far as I know. Then Eugene went to college, which is where he met the hacker guy who got him in so much trouble. He did some bad stuff, got caught, and ended up in prison.”

I let the silence sit for a while.

All at once, she leaned forward and dropped her feet to the floor. “I just had a thought. At one point he worked for a video game shop in Huntington Beach. The owner, Kyle, was a good friend of his.”

“Do you have a phone number for this guy?”

“No, but it wouldn’t be too hard to get.” She took a sip of her green tea. “I don’t know the name of the place, but I know where the shop is.”

“Great. I could go in there and pretend to, I don’t know, need something. And try to find out if this guy has been in touch with your brother.”

Verdi choked on her tea.

“No, you couldn’t.” Her gaze pointedly traveled the length of my person. From my Alexander McQueen tee, to my designer jeans, to my new Dolce and Gabbana wedge sandals.

“I’ll wear a disguise.” I could change my look. I knew from walking by the game shop in downtown Laguna, I’d need to tone things down a bit.

“This I gotta see.” Verdi smiled for the first time since we’d started talking. “It’s more than the clothes, Caro. I’m not sure you could lose that beauty pageant posture if your life depended on it.”

True, the posture had been bred through hours of practice—like a show horse. After years of beauty pageant training, it’d become second nature, but I was pretty sure I could lose it if my life depended on it. Of course, I hoped it didn’t.

“I might surprise you.” I smiled back.

“We’ll see what we can do.” She tipped her head to one side. “I think I can come up with a disguise that will make you blend in with the video game crowd. I don’t think any of the people from the shop will even remember me.”

“Wonderful. We have a plan.” I smiled at her.

“Thanks for doing this, Caro.” Verdi was suddenly serious. “I appreciate your help, and I’ll owe you.”

Yes, she would. Oh, heck, yes she would.

IT TURNED OUT Verdi’s idea of a disguise was much different than mine. Angelina Jolie had nothing on me. I had been transformed into Lara Croft, Tomb Raider. Verdi’s borrowed black wig covered my red hair, but I still felt conspicuous. The motorcycle boots Verdi had provided meant at least I didn’t have the additional lift of heels, but there was an uncomfortably large gap between the boots and the short-shorts part of the outfit. I’d worn skimpier outfits for swimsuit competitions back in my beauty pageant days, but it seemed different.

Maybe because then everyone else was in a swimsuit.

This ensemble covered more of me, but the midriff-baring T-shirt had a few subtle differences. For instance, it was crisscrossed with straps holding fake weapons. Fake, but pretty dang realistic-looking. More fake weapons were strapped to my thighs.

How, in heaven’s name, was I supposed to sit?

Verdi, on the other hand, was some Zelda person. All elf-like and completely covered.

“I think we should trade,” I told her.

“We can’t, Caro.” She folded our street clothes and laid them aside. “This wouldn’t fit you. You’re too tall. You make a great Lara.”

“Okay,” I said, resigned to my danger-chick look. “Let’s get this over with.”

“All the gamers won’t look like this,” she explained. “Some will look like they never leave their mother’s basement, and others will look like regular business execs or retail clerks. This just makes us not look like us.”

That was a Texas-sized understatement.

Verdi added a little more eyeliner to my look, although I didn’t see how there was room for more. “This is the easiest way to disguise you and make you look like you belong. You’ll—you know—blend in.”

“This makes me blend in?” I pointed at my exposed tummy and the skintight leather short-shorts.

I was afraid Verdi would have to drive us and I’d have to lie down in the backseat to keep from splitting my britches.

The video game store was called End Game and was in a strip mall just across the imaginary line into Huntington Beach. We found a parking spot near the entrance.

I was glad because I didn’t want to have to walk too far in my skimpy “blend-in” full-body action figure garb. The motorcycle boots were pretty darned comfortable, and I wondered about the possibility of working them into a fashion look. I’d seen my cousin, Melinda, wear them before and now I understood why.

As we stepped into the store, the guy behind the counter looked up and grunted, “Huh.” The two of us in our outfits fazed him not at all.

Verdi moved through the aisles, and I followed. We pretended to look at the vintage comics on the back wall. There was a girl with pure-white spiky hair who sorted stock while carrying on a conversation with a guy who actually did look like a business executive. Granted, a very young biz guy with tattoos and multiple piercings, but still.

“Hey,” Verdi greeted them as she stepped between them.

“Huh.” I tipped my head, thinking it was a good mimic of the guy up front. I followed Verdi, reminding myself,
no beauty pageant posture
.

She turned and looked at the two. “Either of you know Kyle Wahler?”

They both paused what they were doing. The girl turned to look at us.

“Why?” She stretched out one leg and adjusted her blue sparkly snowflake-covered hoodie.

The guy looked me over head to toe. “Epic,” he pronounced.

“He gonna be in?” Verdi answered the girl’s question with a question.

“Not today.” The girl went back to stacking movies. “He’s off.”

“’Kay.” Verdi had perfected feigned disinterest.

I stood by, leaning my leather-clad hip against a display.

“Is there a message?” The guy seemed slightly more helpful, but still overly interested in my um .
 . . weapons.

“I owe him money,” I said.

Verdi turned to look at me. We should have talked more about our strategy before we embarked on this little adventure. Time was of the essence in finding her brother.

“You can come back tomorrow,” the girl said.

“We’re just in town for the day.” We needed to push.

“Does he live nearby?” It was worth a try. “We can drop the money off at his house.”

“Yeah, he’s got a house in Oak View.”

“Got an address?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know if he’ll be there or not.” He picked up a scrap of paper and plucked little Miss Jack Frost’s pen from her hand.

He wrote on both sides of the paper and handed us the note.

“Thanks.” We’d done it!

I was afraid to look at Verdi for fear my expression would change.

We walked back to Verdi’s car, trying not to move too quickly in case the crew at End Game watched. It would be awful to come this close and have Kyle spooked.

Once we were in the car, though, all bets were off.

“Score!” Verdi squealed.

“Epic score!” I returned.

Okay, maybe I’d gotten into my role a little too much.

I looked at the note. Biz guy had written Kyle’s address on one side and his name and phone on the other side. I couldn’t decide if I was flattered or creeped out by being hit on by a younger man.

I read the address to Verdi.

“Do you know the area?” I assumed we were going directly to Kyle’s.

“Oh, yeah.” She’d already started the car. “I can find it.”

IT WAS DUSK by the time we pulled onto Kyle’s street. Large palms and eucalyptus trees lined the boulevard, making it seem darker than it was.

We parked a block away and sat for a few moments watching the house. There were no lights on, but there was a flicker behind the curtains, like someone was watching television or, given what we knew about Kyle, maybe playing a video game.

“Shall we?” I glanced at Verdi. She fidgeted with her collar, pulled it up, patted it down. She looked as nervous as I felt.

“Sugar, if you want, we can call Detective Malone and let him handle this.”

She shook her head. “I just want to see if I can find Eugene and talk to him. Convince him to talk to the police. It will look better if he goes to them.”

“Okay then.” I knew calling Malone was the better plan, but shoot, if it were my brother, I’d feel the same way. “Ready?”

Verdi nodded and opened her door.

We approached the front of the house, a boxy beige stucco surrounded by a wrought-iron fence, and knocked.

No one came to the door.

After a few minutes, we tried again. We could still see the flicker of light.

Verdi shrugged. “Maybe if he’s playing a video game, he’s got headphones on and can’t hear us knock.”

“Let’s go around to the back. Maybe we can see in.”

We made our way around the house opening the iron gate. Kyle could use a good landscaping service. It looked like there’d been an attempt at cleanup at one point, but an unsuccessful one.

There was a patio in back with a nice grill and a few lawn chairs gathered around it. Through the back windows, we could see the light more clearly. It did look like there could be someone in the house.

“Should we knock?” Verdi asked.

“Why not?” At this point, while I wanted to help Verdi, my motives had become a little more selfish. Sure, I wanted to find out if Kyle knew where Eugene was. But mostly, I wanted to get home and get out of the Tomb Raider outfit.

I lifted my hand and pounded on the back door. “Hello,” I called. “Is anyone home?

No response.

I shrugged and tried the door, turning the knob to see if the house was locked. There was a slight pause and then an awful shrieking filled the air. You know the sound car alarms make? Like that, only ten times louder.

Verdi and I looked at each other in shock, turned, and ran.

We rounded the corner of the house and skidded to a halt.

“Stop right there.”

Three official-looking tough guys with guns drawn blocked our escape.

“Keep your hands where we can see them,” the taller one in the middle ordered.

I carefully raised my black leather-gloved hands in the air, taking no chances that the guys with real guns might think I was going for my plastic weapons.