The Girl With the Dachshund Tattoo (16 page)

“I said, leave. You’re in violation of the restraining order,” Gia demanded. Her face screamed she was willing to wage a battle between good and evil. Terrifyingly enough, I couldn’t tell which side she was defending.

“That’s ridiculous. There’s no such thing.” Fallon thrust her picket sign between herself and Gia.

Zippy barked as he lurched for Fallon. He wasn’t threatening. He acted like Missy when she rushes toward me after she hasn’t seen me for a while. I found his reaction to her curious.

“Stay,” Gia commanded. She slung her large handbag on her shoulder. In an attempt to keep her energetic pooch close, she wrapped the leather leash around her free hand. “Yes, there is. Our attorney filed it the same day we sued you for harassment. You’ve followed us from race to race for two
years
. You’re obsessed with us.”

Fallon’s face remained eerily calm. “I don’t know what to tell you except Richard lied.”

“No, he didn’t.” Gia stomped her foot, plunging her heel into the grass.

Someone behind her laughed as Gia’s arms shot out to catch her balance. Zippy barked again, triggering the canines in the crowd to join him.

Mr. TV appeared out of nowhere. He managed to wedge himself next to me. “I’ve checked. There is no restraining order,” he said under his breath.

I begrudgingly made room for him. “When did you do that?”

“Yesterday. I searched the public records database for any info on the Eriksens.”

I was about to ask if he’d dug up anything of interest when Gia continued her verbal attack on Fallon.

“You have an irrational attachment to Zippy. And—and you’ve sent us death threats.”

Whoa. Death threats? That was out of left field. Why in the world would she send them death threats? I looked at MacAvoy for possible answers since he seemed to know more than the rest of us. He shrugged.

I studied Fallon’s face. She wasn’t just calm, she was confident. As if she knew something Gia didn’t. I pulled out the photo of Fallon and Richard from my bag. In the picture she looked angry.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Fallon turned to walk away. Zippy lunged after her again sending all the dogs into another bark-fest.

“I saw you in your car outside of our house,” Gia shouted.

Fallon stopped.

“That’s right. I saw you. I know about all the pathetic voicemails you left for Richard on his cell phone.”

Fallon slowly faced Gia again. Her smiled slipped, revealing a tiny crack in her confidence that wasn’t there six seconds ago.

Gia didn’t hold back from spewing her venom. “But you crossed the line when you broke into our house and ransacked it. Destroying our family photos. Shredding Zippy’s bed. You’re a horrible person. You belong in jail.”

Fallon shook her head. “I didn’t break into your house. I would never hurt Zippy.” She glanced at the “Save our Doxies” sign she clutched. Was she about to whack Gia with it?

For those of us paying attention, she didn’t deny calling Richard repeatedly. I studied the photo again. Had Darby captured a lover’s quarrel? Maybe Richard always looked angry. I didn’t know him well enough to know his true temperament.

MacAvoy looked over my shoulder. “Where’d you get that?”

I shoved the photo back inside my bag. “I don’t reveal my sources.”

He smiled. “What were they arguing about?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re in violation of the ‘no contact’ order,” Gia told Fallon. “You need to leave.”

I elbowed MacAvoy. “Tell her that’s not true.”

He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid she’s correct,” he spoke loudly, attracting Gia’s attention. “There isn’t a restraining order.”

She whipped around and glared at MacAvoy. “Yes, there is. My husband filed it two months ago. He promised me he’d take care of it. Right after she”—Gia pointed a finger at Fallon—“broke into our house.”

“Unfortunately, your husband lied to you,” MacAvoy said.

“I knew he was no good,” Betty muttered under her breath.

“Shh,” I whispered back. I didn’t believe either woman would admit to killing Richard, but there was a chance they might say something incriminating, and I didn’t want to miss it. You know, so I could fill in Malone later.

Gia scowled. “You’re wrong. He wouldn’t lie to me. She stalked us. I have proof.”

Fallon shook her head. “I wasn’t stalking anyone. Richard could have told me to leave him alone at any time. He didn’t. Not once.”

Okay, it didn’t take a genius to see where this was going. Gia was also putting two and two together and coming up with the same conclusion I had. I felt badly for her. It was one thing to learn your dead husband might have cheated on you. It was a whole other story to find out about it from his mistress in front of fifty strangers.

Gia rallied quickly. “Your pitiful attempt to take what didn’t belong to you failed.”

“You’re wrong,” Fallon bit out.

“You’re a jealous vindictive witch. He didn’t want you so you shot my husband.”

There was a collective gasp at Gia’s accusation. Oh, it was on like Donkey Kong.

“I didn’t kill Richard.” Fallon’s dark eyes glared at her enemy.

“Someone call 911. There’s a murderer among us,” Gia wailed, pointing at Fallon.

“It’s you. You’re the killer.” Fallon’s condemning words fell into an expectant silence. “He was going to leave you, but you murdered him first.”

I felt like we were watching two B-list actors act out a scene from Clue. I half expected her to finish her declaration with, “In the dog park with the revolver.”

All at once, Gia dropped Zippy’s leash and jumped Fallon. The picket sign landed with a solid thwack on the grass.

“You tramp,” Gia screamed.

“Murderer.” Fallon managed to wrangle free, and push Gia away. “You’re crazy.”

Zippy jumped around, dragging his leash behind him as he barked his head off.

“That dog’s jacked up,” Betty said.

I called Zippy, but he refused to come. He was too worked up to obey, and Gia was too upset to notice her pooch needed her.

“You killed my husband you selfish harlot.” Gia’s face grew redder with each word. “You couldn’t have him, so you shot him.”

“I loved him.” Fallon pounded her chest. “I was the best thing that ever happened to him. We were going to start our lives together. You killed him. He hated you.”

“Liar!”

“You’re the liar. You refused to give him a divorce. You didn’t love him. You just wanted his money. He was going to leave you and retire Zippy after this race.”

I met MacAvoy’s gaze. We knew that was the truth. He’d confirmed it with the filmmaker.

Gia lurched for Fallon again, who quickly backed away, keeping out of Gia’s threatening clutches.

“You told him the only way he’d get rid of you was over your dead body. Well, look who’s dead. Richard.” This time Fallon lunged for Gia, shoving her in the chest.

Gia stumbled back, dropping her purse at her feet. Zippy frantically pawed at the bag, managing to unearth the purple water bottle I’d been wanting to nab earlier.

The women circled each other like the
Mob Wives
cast at a Hollywood premiere. It was about to get ugly. Where were the police? Hadn’t Hagan called the police like he’d promised Betty?

“That’s it. You’re dead.” Gia shoved Fallon so hard she tripped over Zippy, barely managing to stay upright. Zippy yelped, jumping to the side.

The mass of onlookers stumbled back, granting wide berth. I scanned the faces in the crowd. We all had the same stunned look of fascination and horror. Although judging by the number of people who’d whipped out their cell phones to snap pictures of the fight, the allure of drama had outweighed their alarm.

Zippy ran in circles around his owner and Fallon, wrapping his leash around their legs. The fighting women toppled to the ground with a loud thud. Gia wrangled Fallon onto her back and sat on the poor gal. Within seconds, the screaming match escalated into an all-out brawl, which included hair-pulling, scratching, and rather impressive foul language. Gia never relinquished her advantage.

“I’ve got twenty on the crazy one,” Betty shouted.

“Which one’s that?” the ginger-haired man asked.

“Damn, I don’t have a camera.” MacAvoy looked over his shoulder, presumably for his cameraman, Ryan.

I jerked my head in Mr. TV’s direction. “That’s what you’re thinking about?”

“It’s my job,” he said unapologetically.

I was worried about Zippy being injured. I watched for an opportunity to grab the dog without being kicked when his leash somehow managed to untangle itself from the women’s thrashing legs. Zippy raced off toward the track with his ears flapping in the breeze—all four paws taking flight as his long body stretched out to full length. Barking dogs tugged on their leashes, yearning to give chase to the current wiener champion.

“Sweet baby Jesus,” Betty cried out. “Look at him go.”

Luis set Barney on the grass. “We’ll get him.” They took off after the runaway pooch.

It was a complete and utter madhouse. I pulled out my cell to call the police when I felt a heavy presence loom behind me.

“Break it up.” Malone’s voice roared over my shoulder.

Startled, I fumbled with my phone almost dropping it.
Holy crapola.
Where’d he come from?

The crowd parted, inviting Malone to wade into the lion’s den. Gia and Fallon continued to pull hair and scream vicious names at each other, oblivious to the police’s arrival.

“Enough!” Without a second of hesitation, the detective effortlessly lifted Gia off Fallon and set her aside.

Well, I don’t know about everyone else, but I was certainly thanking the good Lord for Malone’s timely appearance. At the rate those two were going at it, someone was going to end up dead.

And we all know, I’m the last person who should be reporting a dead body to the cops.

Chapter Nineteen

THE POLICE USHERED the bystanders to the side, keeping Gia and Fallon separated. Officer Salinas stood next to Fallon, his crossed arms resting on his large muscular chest as if daring her to leave. At the moment, she continued to stay put, but the girl looked like she was ready to bolt at the slightest provocation.

Detective Malone’s forceful voice hovered above the curious buzz as he questioned Gia. I couldn’t make out the words, but the low-pitched tone and wide-legged stance communicated clearly that he meant business.

The women looked like two rolled drunks with blades of grass and leaves stuck in their hair like barrettes. Angry red scratch marks trailing down their necks. Fallon’s white jean jacket was covered in grass stains, and the bottom of her maxi-dress was torn. Gia’s bedraggled blue jogging suit hung awkwardly on her frame.

“Who called the cops?” Betty whined.

We hung back with the remaining handful of gawkers. For once, Malone hadn’t ordered us to wait around so he could talk to us later. Betty and I were simply being nosey. Plus I also had some information I thought Malone might find helpful.

“In a manner of speaking, you. You asked Hagan to call when you

spotted Stephanie.”

“Oh, yeah. That was a long time ago. I forgot with all the excitement. They sure took their sweet time getting here. Stephanie’s long gone.”

Something wasn’t adding up when it came to the filmmaker we’d dubbed Stephanie. Between the murder of Richard Eriksen and the physical altercation between Gia and Fallon, that was prime drama for any film. Let alone a dogumentary about the underside of wiener racing.

Yet, she wasn’t anywhere to be found. Why not? Where was she? What could be more important than filming unscripted drama? Even MacAvoy’s first response was to look for his cameraman. Nope, something was off. I was beginning to wonder if she was a filmmaker or if that was just a front for something more sinister. But if she wasn’t making a dogumentary, what was she up to?

“Hey, do you think Rodney was taking bets on the fight?” Betty asked excited by the possibility.

“No.” He was a bookmaker. Of course he was. Just one more reason Stephanie should have been around.

“Too bad. I’d have put money on Gia. She’s a scrappy gal.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You’re not betting anymore.”

“What’s one more wager?”

Malone suddenly looked in our direction. He wasn’t that far away from where we stood. It was possible he’d overheard our gossip about the illegal gambling. He watched us long enough that I got a little nervous. Betty, on the other hand, waved at him.

She sighed like a lovelorn school girl. “I think he missed me.”

Doubtful. “Let’s stay back and let him do his job.”

“Isn’t it his job to solve murders? Those two were just fighting. And not doing a very good job at it until the end.”

“He’s here because of Stephanie. The fight is coincidental. Although, it is possible one of them killed Richard.”

When you think about it, each had motive. Fallon could be a suspect because it was possible Richard wasn’t leaving his wife for her as he’d promised, and that ticked off Fallon. Gia could be a suspect because she knew her husband was having an affair and was planning to leave her for a new life with Fallon.

That’s when I noticed the purple water bottle. Zippy had managed to paw it out of Gia’s purse, and it had rolled under a wooden picnic table adjacent to where Mr. TV stood attempting to snag an interview with the police. Malone and the other police officers dealt with the fighters, leaving the water bottle fair game.

“Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back,” I said to Betty.

“Where are you going?”

“Hopefully to grab evidence that will prove Gia’s cheating. I’ll be right back.”

No one paid any attention to me as I made my way toward the potential evidence; their focus was on Malone, Gia, and Fallon. I hustled toward the container before anyone could beat me to it. MacAvoy glanced over his shoulder. I gave him a half wave, keeping my eyes on him as I bent down and reached for the bottle under the table. Only my fingers didn’t grasp the bottle, but another hand.

I gasped. I turned my head only to find myself face to face with Grey.