Raiders of the Lost Bark Read online

  “She probably overslept. The fresh air does that to some people.”

  He offered me a cup of coffee. I passed, explaining I was more of a tea person.

  “Where’d Betty disappear to?” I asked.

  He nodded toward the back. “She’s in the little girl’s room.”

  Ah. Betty code for snooping. I think this was the point where I was supposed to keep him occupied. “Are you still planning on checking out Pepper’s tent?”

  His smile seemed a little uncertain, which I found totally out of character. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Betty darted out of the bedroom, her straw handbag swinging from her arm. “Cookie, what took you so long?”

  “I was talking to my mama.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you’re normally much quicker to get her off the phone. She must have been on a real tear.” She patted Asher’s forearm. “Handsome, you don’t mind if I show Mel the bedroom, do you? I want to her to see your cedar-lined wardrobes.”

  He checked his watch. “I agreed to meet someone at ten.”

  “You’re not meeting another woman, are you?” Betty batted her eyes.

  He smiled. “I thought you were in a hurry to get to breakfast?”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll be lickety-split,” Betty promised.

  I followed her to the main bath, which was in the bedroom at the rear of the rig.

  “Check this out,” she whispered.

  After placing her handbag on the counter, she opened the wardrobe, then pulled out a drawer. Shoved in the very back was a square mahogany box.

  “This bedroom is much better. Oh, double sinks,” I spoke loudly so Asher wouldn’t wonder what we were doing.

  Betty followed my lead. “Look at the shower.”

  I dropped my voice to a low whisper. “Forget the box. We’re looking for my brooch, remember?”

  “It’s an urn. There’s someone in it.”

  My mouth dropped open. “For real? How do you know?”

  “Well, duh. I looked. There’s a bag of ashes inside. What if his wife didn’t die from an accident and he had her cremated to hide the evidence?”

  I looked over my shoulder. “That’s a huge leap from an urn to murder. You’ve got to stop this madness. And if he did kill his wife, why in the world would he bring her ashes on a glamping trip with his dog?”

  “People do strange things all the time.”

  “Not that strange.” I pointed to the white box shoved behind the urn. “What’s in there? Is that my brooch?” I asked, excitedly.

  Betty palmed the small box and quickly flipped the lid open.

  I caught my breath. Diamond cufflinks and diamond earrings. Just like the cufflinks Asher had claimed he was missing. The ones he insinuated that Addison had stolen from him. I looked behind me again, making sure we were still alone.

  Had he lost the cufflinks? He specifically said he’d never found them. Why would he lie about it? I rubbed my face. There was so much going on, I wasn’t sure what was important to remember and what was a random situation.

  “Put it away,” I whispered.

  Betty quickly shoved the box back inside the drawer.

  “Look how much storage room there is?” I practically shouted. I pushed past Betty and walked right into Asher’s six pack. Oomph. “Hey. Betty’s right, your rig is so much better than what we have.” My heart raced as I worried what he’d seen.

  His six-feet-two frame blocked the only exit. “What are you doing in here?” All charm had vanished. In its place resided suspicious ire.

  Betty snagged her handbag and slipped around me. “Sorry, big boy. You might as well know the truth. I like to snoop in medicine cabinets. By the way, you seem to have an awful lot of Prozac and Spiderman Band-Aids for a guy in his forties.”

  He wasn’t smiling. “Those are for Eddie.”

  “The Band-Aids or the pills?” I asked. I know, I know. But I couldn’t help myself.

  He crossed his arms. “He’s got a bad case of OCD.”

  My stomach growled, interrupting the silent who-will-blink-first standoff. “Can we go eat breakfast now? I missed my morning treat.” I spoke loud enough for Raider and Missy to hear. Predictably, both dogs came racing toward us at the “T” word.

  Raider pushed his head around Asher, shoving him aside. Betty pulled a dried apple ring from her pocket and tossed it to him. He snatched it up immediately, begging for more. Missy, on the other hand, sat next to him waiting patiently for her turn, a drool puddle at her front paws.

  “Well?” I motioned with my hand for Betty to give my girl one, too. Betty handed me a treat. I bent down and held it out. Missy snapped it up. I patted her head and told her she was a good girl.

  “Thanks again for the tour. You’ve got a great setup.” I grabbed Betty’s sleeve and dragged her with me. “We gotta go. I don’t want to miss breakfast. And you have your appointment, after all.” The dogs charged after us, dragging their leashes. Once we were at the front of the coach, we grabbed our pooch’s leads.

  “I’ll see you at the obstacle course later, big guy,” Betty called out. She blew him a kiss good-bye.

  We scrambled out the door. “Seriously? You’re making a date with the guy who just caught us snooping in his bathroom? And I might add, who you think may have killed his wife.”

  “Absolutely. He digs me.” She wagged her eyebrows.

  “Really?”

  She shrugged. “I guess he could have been pretending he was digging it. But it doesn’t matter. I was digging it.”

  I would never understand how her mind worked.

  AT EIGHTY-SOMETHING, Betty wasn’t one to pass up a possible date with a single man. I’m not one to pass up a free meal.

  After escaping Asher’s RV by the skin of our teeth, we made our way to the kitchen and stuffed ourselves with scrambled eggs, waffles, bacon, strawberries, and fresh-squeezed orange juice. For the canine camper, a tasty sweet potato hash, rice pudding, and a bowl of “tail” mix was laid out in abundance.

  I’m not a proponent for the all-American breakfast buffet. The food tends to be dry and overcooked, the eggs rubbery. But I had to admit, everything I ate was perfectly prepared, fresh, and delicious. Red might be an angry soul, but he could cook.

  He remained busy between ordering his staff around, cooking, and talking to diners. I caught him giving me the evil eye a few times. I really didn’t understand what he had against me. He watched Betty taste the sweet potato hash before giving it to Raider. He frowned, muttering a string of incoherent words as he walked away.

  As we finished our meal, I looked around for Hudson. The man was MIA. I asked if anyone had seen him, but no one had. It wasn’t surprising, really. He was probably hiding somewhere, licking his wounds from the tongue-lashing Sunday had given him last night about her broken luggage. Or he could be doing his job, preparing for the day’s events.

  I swallowed the last of my orange juice. “Any sign of my brooch while you were tossing Asher’s RV?” I asked Betty.

  She dropped a waffle at Raider’s front paws. “Nada. I saw diamond earrings and a gold band.”

  “I think we need to find Hudson and see if anyone has turned it in to the lost and found. In fact, we should have done that immediately.”

  Betty licked a dollop of syrup off her finger. “I guess we can trust him.”

  I wasn’t sure what trusting Hudson had to do with finding my brooch. “Speaking of trust, what’s going on with you and Asher?”

  “I’m just getting started with him, Cookie. He liked my shirt.” She pointed to the glittery lips on her top.

  “Please tell me he didn’t kiss you.”

  “Not yet. Soon. But if he’s a bad guy, I’ve got to drop
him like a hot potato.”

  She probably needed to drop him regardless.

  “About the urn.” I lowered my voice. “You can’t go around accusing him of killing his wife just because he travels with an urn full of ashes. You’re making assumptions that could negatively affect his life.” And hers.

  “I’m not so sure.” She held up a finger and ticked off her points, one by one. “We know his wife is dead. We know he lied about the cufflinks. We know he thinks you were involved with offing Addison.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not so sure about that last part. Does he really?” She made valid points, which confused me as to why she’d even consider him a potential love interest.

  She shrugged. “He did. Maybe he changed his mind.”

  “But none of that points to him being a wife-killer. Maybe he loved his wife so much, he can’t stand to be apart from her, even in death.”

  Betty scoffed. “Don’t forget, Cookie. I’m a widow. I know all about losing a spouse. There’s something off about a person who travels with a dead body. Even if that body is ashes.”

  “If there’s even the slightest possibility he could be dangerous, you need to stop trying to get . . .” I made circles with my hands, not sure how to say it, “. . . get him to make a move on you.”

  Betty sighed. “You’re a real killjoy.”

  “I’m thinking clearly for the both of us. You’re walking around in a fog of lust.”

  I tapped my fork against my plate. He had lied about not having the cufflinks. Was it possible he set up Addison to take the fall? Why would he do that? I wondered if he’d filed an insurance report. Lying about missing jewelry didn’t make anyone a murderer. Why didn’t he want to tour Pepper’s tent? Who was he meeting with?

  Missy, who was chilling under my chair, grumbled. I tossed half of a piece of bacon to her.

  “What time was MacAvoy going to interview Sunday?” I asked.

  “They agreed on eleven o’clock. She had a conference call with New York early this morning.”

  She seemed to have a lot of conference calls. “Did you hear where the interview was being conducted?”

  “Nope.”

  I gathered our dishes and placed them in a plastic tub while Betty snagged a napkin full of tail mix and stored it in her purse for later. We left the kitchen and walked along the stone pathway toward headquarters.

  “Who was that guy Asher was talking to last night? I don’t remember seeing him before,” I asked Betty.

  “Craig Sutton. He belongs to that really cute Lhasa Poo, Codi. He thinks they’ll clean up on the obstacle course.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Codi’s very intelligent and quick to obey.”

  I nodded. “That’s half the battle right there. I’ve been meaning to ask, what prizes did you donate on behalf of the boutique?”

  “Don’t you worry about it. I shipped the normal donations: flying discs, balls, and collapsible water bowls.”

  “Back to Asher. Who do you think he was meeting at ten? He was being a little secretive about that.”

  “As long as it’s not a woman, I don’t care.”

  I glanced at Betty. She’d heard what she wanted to hear. He’d never confirmed or denied if he was meeting a man or a woman. He’d avoided answering that question altogether.

  I continued to process what we knew about the brooch, the letters, and Addison’s murder. The brooch was lost and those people who we’d talked to hadn’t seen it. We needed to speak to Hudson.

  The letters were missing from their envelopes. Had someone tossed her tent and, in the process, nabbed the letters? If so, who could have done that? What if she’d never brought the letters and they were back at her house in Laguna Beach? I hadn’t thought of that possibility until now. How would I get my hands on them?

  As for Addison’s murder, there was no clear suspect. There seemed to be a number of people who had motive, but no one stood out from the rest. It was possible Sunday had information that could help uncover the killer. I wanted to hear what MacAvoy was asking her.

  I stopped walking and turned to Betty. “I want to crash the interview.”

  Betty beamed at me like I’d just invited her to a ten grand shopping spree. “Let’s do it.”

  We agreed that, as the one in charge, Hudson would know where the interview was being held, so we made our way to the headquarters tent. Unlike the previous day, the door was closed. Apprehension settled in my gut. I pulled back the heavy canvas and stepped inside.

  “Hello. Hudson?”

  Empty. No Hudson. No MacAvoy. No Sunday.

  Betty and Raider crammed inside behind me. “Where is everyone?”

  Good question. Until today, headquarters had always been open. Why not now? Where was Hudson? Missy and Raider headed straight to the water bowls. They were empty. Hudson hadn’t been in yet.

  If I were MacAvoy, where would I want to conduct the interview? What would make the best TV? I thought about it for a second. Either the scene of the crime or Addison/Sunday’s tent.

  “Let’s go to Sunday’s tent and then the spa. If MacAvoy could arrange the interview at either of those locations, it would make great TV. And we all know he’s about getting the story and bringing in the viewers.”

  “Good thinking.”

  We skedaddled to Addison’s old tent, which was on the far end of the campground. Site number five, where there was the most privacy. Betty and Raider took the lead. We walked quickly, making good time. Within a couple of minutes, we could see the tent.

  In the distance, a tall masculine figure skittered along the backside of Addison/Sunday’s tent. Raider immediately went on high alert, barking and lunging. Betty jerked forward, struggling to keep control of the large pup.

  “Heel,” she yelled. “Heel.”

  He continued to bark, dragging her as he charged toward the stranger.

  Missy and I raced to catch up, Missy snorting and panting the whole way. I grabbed Raider’s leash from Betty, tugging him backward. “Sit,” I shouted.

  He turned his head to look at me as he continued to run.

  “Sit.”

  He finally stopped running in front of Sunday’s tent. He sat, with a dopey dog smile, waiting to be rewarded for obeying.

  Betty caught up to us. She bent over, hands on her thighs, sucking in a couple of deep breaths. “Th—thanks. He got spooked.”

  Raider waited expectedly for his reward. I wasn’t so sure he deserved one, but Betty opened her purse and pulled out a dried apple ring. I doubt Caro would have thought that was a good idea.

  “Did you see who that was?” I asked.

  “I sure did. Red. He’s a sneaky snake. What was he doing?”

  I pushed my lips together, deep in thought. Didn’t we just leave Red at the kitchen? What could have been so important that he’d leave his mealtime responsibilities to snoop around Addison’s tent? What could he be looking for?

  “Sunday said he was a client years ago. Maybe he’s trying to get back in her good graces.”

  Betty scrunched up her face and looked in the direction Red had run off to. “By creeping around her personal space? We need to keep an eye on him.”

  Agreed. “Whatever he was doing in there, he wasn’t sticking around long enough to chat about it.”

  What did he think he would find in Addison’s tent? And why was he looking for it?

  Chapter Nineteen

  WE WERE STILL SET on crashing MacAvoy’s interview with Sunday. Although, after Raider’s shenanigans, including the dogs wasn’t ideal. Bringing him to an event like this might have been premature. Don’t get me wrong, Raider wasn’t a bad dog. He’s a one-hundred-and-thirty-pound Saint Bernard puppy, full of energy, but lacking discipline.

  Since Betty had rescued h
im, I’d been concerned that if she didn’t learn how to control him, she could be seriously injured. She was barely five feet, and couldn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds.

  With some careful wording, I convinced her that leaving Missy and Raider in the RV until the obstacle course competition at two o’clock was best for both the dogs. They’d be well rested and compete better.

  Since Sunday’s tent was a bust, we hurried to the spa. Believe it or not, there was a line. Apparently, a little murder didn’t detract people from pedicures and massages. There was no interview happening there.

  “Now what?” Betty tapped her foot in the grass.

  I should have known better. Hudson didn’t trust MacAvoy any more than I did. Hud wouldn’t have agreed to allow the interview at the spa. There was only one place left—MacAvoy’s RV.

  “Come on.” Luckily, we knew exactly where to go since Mr. TV’s campsite was right next to ours.

  As in a typical campground, a handful of campers and their pets played on the grass, while others sat in their lawn chairs in their campsite, shooting the breeze, getting to know each other.

  Almost everyone called out hello to Betty. They wanted to chat. I dragged her away, solidifying the perception I was an awful person. Sure, we could have stayed behind to mingle with her friends, but I didn’t have that luxury right now. I was a murder suspect. My objective had to be clearing my name. And the only way to do that was to either be a star witness or get the goods on the real killer. Since I had been nowhere near the crime scene, I couldn’t play the role of star witness. That left finding evidence on who was letting me take the rap for their crime.

  It was almost eleven. If the interview was going down here, it was about to happen at any moment. We were a few yards from Mr. TV’s RV.

  “Hold up.” I grabbed Betty’s arm and slowed her down.

  “I thought we were in a hurry?” she complained.

  “We are. But let’s not draw any more attention to ourselves than we already have.”