Downton Tabby Page 11

  Verdi and I looked at each other.

  Well, no kidding.

  I returned to my desk and tried to concentrate on what I needed to do. I had paperwork to finish and files to update, but my mind kept wandering to what the process server had said. If Cash and Jake were being sued because of a disagreement over an app they’d developed, that would involve a lot of money. Millions maybe. Could it perhaps be enough money to be a motive for murder?

  I debated about whether to even follow up with Malone on my cyber-spy theory. At midnight it had seemed reasonable, but it had sounded pretty far-fetched when I tried to explain it to Verdi. She was right; the California surfer boy and the absent-minded British cat-lover did seem like unlikely spy potential.

  I’d wrapped up my paperwork and started on my to-do list for the next day when I heard voices out front.

  “You can’t—wait a minute. You can’t just barge in there.” Verdi’s tone was firm.

  “Yes, I can,” a voice I recognized argued. “I’m a client, and besides we’re working together on the murder case.”

  Betty Foxx appeared at my office door. Verdi hesitated just outside.

  “What are you doing here, Betty?” I nodded to Verdi that it was okay.

  “I’m here because it’s not working.” Today Betty was attired in a dark-plum velour pantsuit, a step up from the usual pajamas, but the pants were hiked up to her armpits. Bright-white tennis shoes completed the outfit.

  She crossed her arms across her chest and tapped one bright-white toe in impatience.

  “What’s not working?”

  “The stuff you told me to do with Raider.”

  I sighed. “Tell me what you’ve been doing.”

  “What you told me to do.” She rolled her eyes.

  “You’ve been walking Raider?” I asked.

  “Yes, I did, but now look at me.” She pulled up her pant legs to reveal two skinned knees. “And not only that, I ruined my favorite outfit. The limited-edition, hot-pink, Jackie-O-one I got on sale last month on the shopping channel. It was only for a limited time. It’s irreplaceable.” Her thin fingers dropped the pant leg with emphasis.

  If the O was supposed to stand for Jackie Onassis, I was pretty sure the icon of fashion and good taste had never worn hot-pink PJs, at least not out in public, but that was neither here nor there. The biggest issue was that Betty had been injured, and luckily this time it had been minor. Good grief. She could have fallen and broken a hip or something.

  Okay, so Betty was right; my advice had not been the right advice for a petite older woman. Even one as feisty as Betty Foxx.

  “You’re right, Betty. It’s not working.”

  “Whadda you mean?” Betty huffed. “You still on the ‘I’m too small and too old for that kind of dog.’ I don’t want another kind of dog. I want Raider.” Betty paced while she talked.

  “Hold on. That’s not what I meant. I meant Raider is too big and too young for what I recommended.” I watched Betty, considering solutions.

  “So what now?” She stopped in front of me. “You givin’ up?”

  “No. We need to take a different approach.” I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel. “Do you know where the Laguna Beach dog park is?”

  “Yep, out on Laguna Canyon Road.”

  “Where’s Raider now?”

  “At home. Probably chewing up his newest stuffed toy from the Bow Wow Boutique. Cookie gives me a discount.”

  “Can you meet me tomorrow morning at the dog park?”

  “I hafta be at work by ten.”

  I was sure Melinda could spare her if Betty needed to come in later, but it didn’t really matter. I could meet her at nine, and we’d have plenty of time. I could stop by the ARL and grab Pharaoh, the Lab, and take him for some exercise like I’d promised Don Furry.

  There was a commotion in the outer office. Good grief, we really did need one of those announcement bells.

  This time it was Heidi Sussman who burst in, followed by Verdi who was attempting to stop her. She pushed past Verdi, who threw her arms up in surrender but waited in the doorway.

  “What did you think you were doing telling the police I was withholding information?” She was clearly furious, her face almost as pink as her skimpy fuchsia crop top.

  “I didn’t say you were withholding anything. I simply told Detective Malone the truth. I’d suggest you do the same.”

  Betty looked from Heidi to me and then back again. She stepped between Heidi and me, facing Heidi. “Wait your turn, chicklet. I’m talking to the pet shrink right now.”

  “Back off.” Heidi stepped forward toward Betty.

  “You need to back off and stop acting like a brat.” Betty dropped her handbag on the floor and took a defensive stance, her arms raised like she was about to karate chop the younger woman.

  Uh-oh. I motioned to Verdi, who closed the door so that the noise didn’t disturb Suzanne and the rest of my officemates.

  “Ladies.” I raised my voice.

  “That’s no lady.” Betty pointed at Heidi. “Look at how she’s dressed with her ta-tas about to pop out of her clothes.”

  I didn’t think Betty had any room at all to be criticizing anyone’s fashion choices, but Heidi’s top was maybe a size too small for her, um, size.

  Heidi leaned in nose to nose with Betty. “Listen here, you old bat, for your information this top is a very expensive McQueen.”

  “I don’t care if the McQueen of England herself gave it to you. It looks like you’re wearin’ your skivies.” Betty shook her finger in Heidi’s face.

  “It’s Alexander McQueen,” Heidi bristled.

  “You listen here, Missy, you may think you’re little Miss Richie from Richistan, but that doesn’t give you the right to act disrespectful.”

  “Time out.” I waved my arms between the two like I was refereeing a fight, and I guess I kind of was. “You’re both upset. Let’s calm down and talk about this.”

  “I’m done talking.” Heidi turned on her heel and stormed out.

  “Do you think you might have been a little rough on her?” I looked at Betty.

  “I don’t care.” Betty picked up her handbag from the floor. “I’ve met better behaved toddlers.”

  “I agree she said some things that were uncalled for, but mostly because she was upset.” I didn’t really care that Heidi was unhappy with me. I just hoped she really had been upfront with Detective Malone.

  “So you ratted her out to Detective Hottie?” Betty asked.

  “Not really.” A tap on the now open door saved me from answering. “Am I interrupting?” It was Geoff. Great, the perfect monkey to add to this circus.

  And besides, what was the deal? Was my office Grand Central Station this morning?

  Geoffrey didn’t wait for an answer but strolled on in.

  Betty looked him up and down, then sidled up to him and squeezed his forearm with her fingers. “Hubba hubba,” she said with fluttering lashes and an exaggerated wink at Geoff, before turning back to me.

  “What kind of perfume do you wear, Carol?”

  “Why?”

  “Must be one of them pheromone ones they sell late at night on the shopping channel, cuz the hunks seem to flock to you like flies.”

  And with that, Betty blew Geoff an air kiss, and she was gone.

  Chapter Thirteen

  GEOFF CONTINUED right on in without hesitation. I didn’t think the hunks were flocking, but if they were, this was one hunk I wished would fly the coop.

  “Who was the bag lady?” he asked. “And what was that on her forehead?”

  “Betty is one of my clients, those were her eyebrows, and we should all hope for as much spunk as she has when we’re her age.”

  Yes, Betty was a little bizarre. Big deal. I didn’t appreciate his derogatory comments. As crazy-making as she was, I’d take Betty Foxx’s company over his any day.

  “No house calls today?” Geoff dropped into one of the plum-colored leather chairs next to
my desk as if he planned to stay for a while.

  I didn’t respond to his question, and I didn’t sit down. I didn’t want Geoff to get the impression he was welcome to stay.

  What had I ever seen in the man? Granted he’d been easy on the eyes, and still was. Tall and lean, he wore his custom-tailored, silver-grey suit well. Neatly styled, nearly black hair, chiseled jaw, intelligent dark-blue eyes.

  But it had never been about his looks. We’d met in college, and he had treated me in a way no other guy had before. Geoff didn’t make a big deal of my looks. He’d always wanted to play down the fact that I’d done the beauty-pageant circuit. That was okay with me; I’d hated it. I was young and earnest and in love with the idea of love. I’d been so enamored; I’d been blind to his faults.

  I wanted to boot-kick myself.

  “No canines or kitties in need of counseling?” He looked around the office. It wasn’t large, but I thought I’d done an alright job with the furnishings. In fact, except for the basket of pet toys and the paw-print rug, it could be any therapist’s office.

  “The pet counseling business must be a lucrative one.” He raised a dark brow in what I’m sure he assumed to be a debonair expression.

  “I do okay. Now, I’ve got work to do.” I wished he would give it up. Surely he must realize with what he’d put me through; there were no second chances. Who was I kidding? Of course he didn’t realize. His ego was as big as Texas, and he never considered defeat.

  “Any news on the murder investigation you’re involved in?”

  “No, and I’m not involved.” I stared at him, wishing my thoughts of his leaving would make him go away.

  “Hmmm.” Again the thoughtful hand on the chin.

  I imagined him practicing it in front of the mirror.

  “Geoffrey, what are you doing here?” Sending go-away thoughts wasn’t working; maybe the straight-forward approach would move him along.

  “My, my. Prickly aren’t we?”

  “Not prickly, but I’ve got no time for your hooey.”

  “Hooey?” He laughed. “Hooey. I’m not even sure what that means. You always had such colorful Texas language, Carolina.”

  If he didn’t leave my office soon, I’d be fixin’ to show him some Texas language a whole lot more colorful than “hooey.”

  “When are you done for the day?” He glanced toward the door. “I don’t see any patients waiting. Perhaps we could go to dinner.”

  “Dinner?” I could feel my face get hot as my temper flared, but I made my voice very quiet. I would not let him get to me. “Geoffrey, I do not want to go to dinner. I do not want you in my office, and if you ever show up at one of my in-home appointments again, I will call my friend, Detective Malone, and have you escorted from the premises.” I took a deep breath. “Do you understand?”

  “My dear, I can see I’ve caught you at a bad time.” He managed to make it sound like he was trying hard to be nice and I was having a hissy fit for no good reason.

  He stood and leaned toward me like he might want to kiss me good-bye. My hand itched to slap the smirk off his face, but I resisted.

  Geoffrey took my partially-raised hand and lifted it to his lips. “We’ll try for another time when you aren’t so stressed.”

  I picked up the stuffed cat toy that lay on my desk and chucked it at his head as he left. The bright-blue mouse landed with a very unsatisfying thunk halfway to the door.

  Chapter Fourteen

  VERDI LEFT FOR the day with a comment about perhaps investing in a traffic-cop uniform for the next time she worked. I thought a referee shirt and a whistle might do the trick.

  I began packing myself up to leave as well. My plan was to stop by my house, grab some lunch, take Dog for a short walk, and then I had errands to run. I also needed to call Olivia Fletcher. She was the lady with the Schnauzer that I’d had to reschedule the day there’d been all the excitement with the secret room.

  I shut down my computer and gathered my papers.

  “Hello.” A voice I knew well boomed in the empty outer room. “Is anyone here?”

  Really? On top of the previous parade of visitors?

  I thought about not answering, but avoiding the reporter seemed childish on my part.

  “In here,” I finally answered with a heavy sigh.

  “Working?” Callum MacAvoy stepped through my office doorway.

  “Yes.” I looked behind him for his camera crew, but it appeared to only be him. “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. MacAvoy?

  “Mac, please.” He dropped into the chair Geoff had just vacated. “My friends call me Mac.”

  Uhm, no. Mac was Sam’s dog. Whom I liked. Callum MacAvoy, I wasn’t sure about.

  “Is there something I can do for you?” I wasn’t going to call him by his nickname like we were friends, but I also wasn’t going to waste time arguing about what to call him.

  The sooner I could figure out why he’d stopped by and move him along on his way out of my office, the better. It had to be getting close to his noon spot, so I guessed he wouldn’t stick around too long.

  “You can tell me what the latest is in the murder investigation.” He leaned forward as if I could trust him. Like it would be our little secret. Yeah, right. I knew his type all too well.

  “You’ll have to check with the police.” I continued shuffling papers. “I’m sure Detective Malone would be happy to give you an official statement.”

  “But you’re the one with the missing boy billionaire’s cat. Have you heard from him?” He tapped his temple. “I’m thinking you have.”

  “What makes you think that?” I avoided his question, and I could see from his face he knew that’s what I was doing. He might be irritating, but he was as smart as a whip.

  And as stubborn as a mule. He sat and stared at me.

  “You know, MacAvoy”—I met his gaze—“I do have Graham Cash’s cat, but I don’t know where he is. I just hope he’s okay. I have no information to give you.”

  “I don’t think that’s true. I think you’re knee-deep in this intrigue and you know more than you’re saying. I did some checking, and you have an interesting past.”

  “Really?”

  “Former beauty queen. Walked away from all that. Society wedding, marriage to a high-priced Dallas therapist. Then there’s a scandal, and it all comes crashing down. Moves to Laguna Beach, starts a new business. Lands Orange County’s most eligible bachelor.” He rattled off my life in his broadcaster voice.

  “Sounds like a made-for-TV drama when you summarize it like that.” I kept my voice steady. I recognized his blatant attempt to get a rise for what it was.

  “It does, doesn’t it?” He dropped back to his normal voice.

  “So what’s your point?” I looked him straight in the eyes.

  “Just that I’ve got questions.”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  “This isn’t the first murder investigation you’ve been involved in, is it?”

  “I’m hardly involved, Mr. MacAvoy. Like I keep telling everyone, I’m only the catsitter.”

  “Still it’s odd, isn’t it?” His green eyes pinned me.

  I shrugged and waited for him to make his point.

  “I wonder about things like that. Coincidences.”

  Again, I waited, but cut eye contact and went back to packing things up for my next appointment.

  “Then there’s not just you, but the beautiful Melinda and the hint of a scandal in her past.”

  “Also, none of your business.” I dropped my voice to a deadly calm, which would have warned him of the coming explosion if he’d known me better.

  “I did some research on your cousin, too. Will she finally be rid of the shady art dealer and find someone better?” He’d slipped back into the voiceover. “And will the scandal from her past—”

  “Get out.” I stood and pointed at the door.

  MacAvoy froze, the expression in his green eyes told me he hadn’t seen that coming. He�
�d thought he was poking a stick at a well-trained pure bred and found out there was junkyard dog in my lineage.

  The idiot had crossed a line.

  “You can pick on me and drag out all the skeletons in my closet and make them dance if you like, but not my family. You mind your own business, Callum MacAvoy. Melinda is off limits.”

  MacAvoy blinked and took his time standing. “If you hear anything . . .”

  “Out.”

  “Okay, okay. I’m going.” He raised his hands in surrender.

  Wow. What a slime ball. I probably wouldn’t have lost my temper so easily had I not just been through the drama of Betty and Heidi’s disagreement, and then Geoff showing up in my office and acting like he could walk back into my life. I was done. I had no use for the press in general and Callum MacAvoy in particular.

  Chapter Fifteen

  OLIVIA FLETCHER had been willing to reschedule for that afternoon, and I was glad. A dose of my usual routine was exactly what I needed to get my head on straight.

  I stopped by home, fixed a salad, and did a quick once-around-the-block with Dogbert. The felines were sprawled, sunning themselves on the windowsill, and I was happy to see Thelma and Louise had made room for Toria.

  My stop to work with Olivia and Baymont, her Schnauzer, would be a quick one. When the little of slip of a woman answered the door, I immediately apologized for having to reschedule.

  Olivia, a recent widow, led the way to a wicker-filled sunroom. Sunlight and soft colors washed through the dappled room. It seemed perfect for such a gracious and soft-spoken lady.

  She’d been working with Baymont on some of my recommendations. He was quite a handsome fellow and had the Schnauzer’s unique arched eyebrows and bristly mustache and beard. When he saw me, he barked a deep bark and then went to stand by Olivia as if letting me know he was her bodyguard.

  I easily fell into my routine and spent some time with the two, asking questions and observing how they interacted. I reassured Olivia what she was doing was working. Baymont barked a lot, but not excessively. A bit over-protective at the dog park, Olivia needed to curb her own nervousness so Baymont would know the situation was stable and didn’t require his intervention. He was Olivia’s first dog, and I think she mostly needed tips on how to handle his personality. They would do fine.