The Girl With the Dachshund Tattoo (8 page)

“If that’s a sincere offer, that would be great exposure.”

I shook my head. Sweet Darby. Even after the dire circumstances she’d endured since she’d arrived in town, she was still a trusting soul. You can take the girl out of the Midwest, but you couldn’t squash the natural instinct to believe the best in people.

I reached out and gave Darby a quick hug.

She laughed. “What was that for?”

“I’m lucky to have you in my life.”

She squeezed my hand. “I feel the same about you.”

I tugged the hem of my hoodie back into place at my waist. “Enough of the sappy love fest. What’s up?”

Darby’s face lit up with excitement. “I’ve been thinking about what Grey had said. You know, about my pictures. If they could be that important, I thought I should review them now. I’m only halfway through the five hundred photos, but when I saw this I couldn’t wait. You’ll never believe what I found. Look.” Darby shoved her tablet at me.

On the screen was a photo of Richard arguing with a female protester. The woman was at least six inches shorter than he was. Her long, brown hair flared around a beautiful heart-shaped face. Her mouth curled in anger. She looked primed to whack Richard over the head with her “Save the Doxies” sign. The right corner of the photo was time-stamped—two thirty.

A smile as wide as the Pacific Ocean spread across my mouth. “Looks like we’ve got a new suspect!”

Chapter Eight

“DO YOU KNOW her,” I asked Darby, flipping through the other photos.

“No, but I asked around. Her name is Fallon Keller. She’s the head of Rights for Doxies, an animal rights organization that’s known to protest all the dachshund races in southern California.”

Darby had taken a handful of pictures of the protesters, but there was only one perfect shot capturing Fallon Keller, arms raised, poised to beat Richard with her peace-love-and-save-the-doggies sign.

“Is Malone still here?” she asked.

“I haven’t seen him since his stock comment about throwing me in jail if I didn’t stay out of his way. It takes a while to process the scene and talk to everyone. Certainly, he’s around here somewhere.” I handed her the tablet. “Will you email me a copy of that?”

“Sure.” After closing the cover, she tucked it safely in her bag. “I saw Grey talking to Hagan Stone. I didn’t realize they knew each other.”

That was news to me too. However, Grey had been looking for Betty’s gun, so he would have talked to everyone. It was part of his training. You never knew what small detail could break a case wide open.

“He meets a lot of people through the gallery. Have you talked to Hagan since he decided to postpone the rest of the event?”

She nodded. “He’s worried people won’t come back.”

That was a possibility. I pushed out a long breath. I couldn’t believe what I was about to suggest, but I wasn’t the type of person to hamper the success of the race because I didn’t like or trust someone.

“If we see MacAvoy again, let’s make sure he knows about tomorrow. He can at least get that on the evening news.”

Darby grinned. “That hurt.”

“More than you know.”

She grabbed my arm and tugged. “Hey, there’s Hagan.” Darby waved him over with gusto.

Somehow, I managed to keep my mouth shut and my expression neutral. This was my first face-to-face with Hagan Stone. Up until this moment, all of our interaction had been over the phone or by email.

He didn’t look at all like I had imagined. He was fortyish, with thick dark hair in need of a trim, a high forehead, hawkish nose, and the voice of Cary Grant. I half expected him to air-kiss my cheeks or the back of my hand. He barreled over and introduced himself.

“Melinda, you’ll be here Sunday, correct? We really need you. Your Bow Wow Boutique is widely respected and enormously popular. It’s been a huge draw for the event.”

Normally, I was immune to flattery, but I couldn’t deny the warmth of satisfaction that washed over me. “Sure, I can do that. Not a problem.”

He squeezed my shoulder gently. “Wonderful. I believe I’ve talked to almost everyone now, and they’ve all agreed to come back.” He nodded, satisfied with his accomplishment. “I think we’ll do okay. I may be short a judge. Would you mind filling in if that proves to be the case?”

“Whatever you need.” I had no idea what I’d agreed to, but his enthusiasm was contagious.

He smiled broadly. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

“Any news on Zippy? Will he race?” Darby asked.

Hagan’s brows furrowed. “That’s not up to me. That’s for Gia, Mrs. Eriksen, to decide. But I don’t see why he wouldn’t. He’s our big name, you know.”

“Did you know Richard well?” I asked.

He smiled sheepishly. “This is my first year as Chairman of the Board, but he seemed like a decent chap.”

“We should have a moment of silence for him,” Darby suggested.

Hagan nodded in agreement. “That’s very thoughtful. I’ll make sure to take care of it myself.”

“Did Richard have a lot of enemies?” I asked.

He pushed his thin lips together and pondered my question. “There’s always a variety of rivalry; that’s the nature of competition, correct? No, I wouldn’t call them enemies, but there was definitely tension between him and a number of other owners. Not to speak ill of the dead, but he could be difficult.”

I’d noticed. His wife was equally difficult. “What about the protesters?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t pay them any attention. They’re a nuisance, nothing more.”

Interesting. Darby and I exchanged a questioning look but refrained from commenting. We had proof it was possible the head protester was more than a nuisance.

“Are they here every year?” I asked.

“From what I understand, yes. Last year there was an altercation between the animal activists’ organizer and a couple of doxie owners. I’m terribly sorry, but I wasn’t informed about the specifics.”

Well, maybe Darby and I need to find out. My phone chirped, interrupting our enlightening talkfest. A quick glance at my cell showed it was Grey. I looked at Darby and said, “Excuse me.”

I walked toward a couple of locust trees for privacy before I answered. I released the breath I’d been holding and managed a half smile. “Hi.”

“Hey. I saw I missed your call.”

I looked around the grounds for a glimpse of Grey making his way toward me. I didn’t see him. “I thought you’d be back before now.”

He hesitated then said, “Something came up. I had to leave.”

I recognized the indifferent tone. He used it anytime he worked on a case I couldn’t know about. I started to pace. Was he on his way out of town already? Was that why he seemed happier after his call this afternoon?

Good grief.
Pull yourself together.
“Will I see you tonight?”

“I’m not sure. I have a couple of things to take care of.” The tension crackled across the phone.

“Are you blowing me off?” I leaned against a tree, the rough bark pressed against my back.

He sighed so hard I was amazed I didn’t feel his breath on my ear. “No. I have people waiting for me.”

I rubbed my chest, pushing back the ache building inside. I was waiting for him too. I’d been waiting for him for weeks. “It’s just as well. I wasn’t expecting you for a couple of days so I made plans.” My face warmed at my blatant lie.

“Melinda, we’re not finished.” His voice softened, but it still sounded detached. “We have a lot to discuss. Just not tonight.”

“I don’t really want to talk tonight either,” I muttered. I squeezed my eyes shut. “I love you.”

He didn’t respond immediately. I felt sick to my stomach.

“I love you too,” he finally said.

I ended the call hurt and frustrated, and in no way reassured. What a horrible day.

IT WAS DUSK by the time Darby left to find Malone and update him on the photos. I’d managed to load three of the storage containers in the Jeep fairly quickly. Frustration could be a terrific motivator. Bless Missy’s sweet bulldog heart, she didn’t complain about all the back and forth between the Jeep and the booth. I’m sure she thought I’d lost my mind. She deserved an extra treat when we finally made it home.

I slid the final tote off the table and started toward the Jeep for the last time. Missy dutifully brought up the rear, her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth. As I walked across the park, I mentally planned the rest of my night. First, a hot shower. Second, a glass or two of Pinot.

“Hey, Cookie. Did you miss me?” Betty called out brightly.

Startled, I almost dropped the plastic storage bin on my foot. I set down the tote before whipping around. “Where the heck have you been? I’ve been worried about you.” Immediately I was embarrassed I’d lost my temper.

Betty, on the other hand, didn’t bat an eye at my outrage. “Talking to Officer Cupcake.”

“For two hours?”

Betty squatted in front of Missy. With a thin hand, she patted Missy’s head with great affection. Betty’s white hair needed brushing, and her pajamas were rumpled. For the first time since I’d met her, she looked frail. That scared me more than not knowing where she’d been since she’d walked away with Officer Shughart.

“I had some things to take care of,” she said.

“Like what?”

She straightened. “It’s private.”

“Privacy’s never stopped you from poking your nose into my business.”

“That’s because someone has to keep an eye out for you, Cookie. You act before you think.”

Look who’s talking? The godmother of impulsiveness. I needed to calm down. What was I doing, interrogating a woman old enough to be my grandmother?

I inhaled deeply and counted to five, searching for a shred of patience.

“You look like you’re about to pass out. Stop holding your breath.” Betty said.

“Will you tell me where you’ve been?” I pushed one last time.

She shook her head.

I tried a different approach. “What did Shughart say?”

Betty sat on top of the storage container. I noticed her sneakers were no longer white, but grassy green. “You’d like her. She’s a smart one. She’s got two pugs, Charlie and Daisy. Cupcake promised to stop by the shop next week to check out our travel carriers. She’s leaving on vacation next month.”

“I meant what did she say about your involvement with Richard’s death?”

She shrugged a delicate shoulder. “Don’t leave town. Don’t talk to the press. And if I see Stephanie to call her or that handsome Detective Malone.”

“Holy cow, Betty. You’re officially a murder suspect.”

Betty clapped her hands and pressed them to her chest. Her gray eyes brightened with amusement. “I know. Exciting, isn’t it?”

Chapter Nine

I DIDN’T CARE WHAT Betty thought; it was not exciting. More like terrifying.

By the time I got her loaded into her Mini Cooper and headed home, darkness had started to settle around us. I made her promise to call me once she’d arrived safely. Betty claimed I was overreacting. Maybe I was. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was still keeping a secret. Something important.

I’d had a front-row seat the last time someone I cared about had kept a big secret—it had blown up in her face.

Malone had asked me to keep Betty out of his way. It looked like that wouldn’t be as difficult as I’d originally believed. She was too busy disappearing.

I headed down the sidewalk for the last time and made a mental note to park closer to the entrance gate tomorrow. There were a handful of cars still parked along the canyon road. I’d luckily found a spot under a streetlamp. Once I reached the Jeep, I shoved the last plastic tote inside. I started to load Missy when I heard what sounded like a muffled howl.

“Stay.”

Missy obediently waited for me to give the “load-up” command.

I concentrated on the evening sounds, picking out what belonged and dismissing it, instead waiting for what didn’t fit in. Within a minute I heard the sound again. I glanced around but I didn’t see an animal or a human. I closed the Jeep door.

“Let’s take one last walk, girl.”

Missy sighed, but dutifully followed.

We strolled along the sidewalk, perfectly lit by the overhead streetlamps that lined the walkway. I kept my eyes peeled for someone in distress. As I drew closer to a beat-up black Nissan, I heard the muffled howl of despair again. It came from inside the car. Had someone left a dog inside with the windows up? Granted, heat wasn’t an issue this time of night, but why did people insist on taking their pets to run errands, only to leave the animals locked up in a vehicle?

I stomped up to the car intending to free the imprisoned dog, or at least check on his wellbeing and crack the window if possible. The second I got next to the Nissan, I knew I had it all wrong. Not about the dog in the car. I could see him clear as day, with his face pressed against the glass, leaving doggie kisses on the window. But the dog wasn’t alone. And it wasn’t just any dog.

It was Pickles. And Lenny.

Lenny didn’t look happy that I’d found him hiding in his car. If he hadn’t caught me peeking in the back window, I’d have walked away. I’m sure the nasty look engraved on his face was meant to frighten me off. Silly me, I took his stare as a challenge. I knocked on the passenger window.

He rolled it down a smidge. “Go away,” he shouted through the crack.

“Are you okay?”

“We’re fine.”

The man obviously didn’t know the definition of “fine.” The smell of leftover fast food wafted from his car. His droopy eyes could barely focus on me. I’d either woken him up or he was drunk. At the moment, I believed he was drunk.

“You’re not driving anywhere are you?”

“What’s it to you?” he growled.

I pointed to the white bag on the seat. “If that’s what I think it is, you shouldn’t be driving.”

He cursed, shoving the bag under the passenger seat. He fumbled with the handle before he finally managed to open the door. I jumped back, almost falling over Missy. The dome light blinked on. There were piles of dirty clothes; bags of food, gum, and candy wrappers; liquid cold medicine; and bottles of what looked like vitamins.