Raiders of the Lost Bark Page 18

  She watched me intently. Maybe she’d drop the topic of conversation if I went back to watching the show. “I wonder if there’s a waiting list to be on this show.”

  Betty picked up the remote and with one click removed my only defense against her line of questioning. “Is that was this is all about? Your Miss America scandal? Are you protecting your mama and daddy?”

  I jerked my head toward her. “How’d you know?”

  “I know my way around the computer. A simple Google search can produce a lot of information. I’ve known since the day I started working for you.”

  I took a sip of wine, savoring the warmth of the full-bodied pinot noir. I set my glass next to Betty’s on the side table between our recliners. There wasn’t an easy way out of the conversation this time. “I’m sorry I cut you off earlier. Addison was blackmailing me.”

  Betty sprung up in her chair. “No way! You lead a very exciting life. You could be a reality show star.”

  “I have no desire. Look, you have to keep this quiet. I haven’t told anyone. Well, that’s not exactly true anymore. After our phone call, my mama knows. Addison found letters between her father and my mother, and I have no idea what she may or may not have told her agent.”

  Betty went bug-eyed. “That’s why you were being so nice to her? Because your mama did the horizontal hokey-pokey with Addison’s daddy?”

  I closed my eyes and shook my head. “Please don’t say that again. I do not need that visual. Addison promised if I got her this job, and introduced her around town, she’d give me the letters. But she never did. She reneged every time. And then came up with some new hoop she wanted me to jump through.”

  “She was a horrible person, Cookie.”

  I wasn’t about to argue when I felt the same way. “When I was supposed to meet her on the day she died, we’d come to an agreement. I’d give her the foreword and she’d give me the letters.”

  “But she never showed,” Betty filled in the rest.

  I shook my head. “Someone killed her first.”

  Betty pushed up her onesie sleeves. “I got your back. We’ll find your brooch and your mama’s letters. You can count on me.”

  AT SUNRISE, THE dogs were begging for an outside trip. I’d slept better than I had in weeks. Betty was certain it was due to the adult-sized baby clothes she’d conned me into wearing. I was pretty sure it was because I was emotionally drained.

  Even with awesome sleep, I wasn’t a morning person. I dragged my body out of bed, tossed on a hoodie, then snapped Missy’s leash onto her collar. I slipped on my sunglasses to hide my puffy eyes from too much wine in case we ran into anyone, which was a definite possibility.

  Betty, on the other hand, was bright and cheery, looking like she’d been up for hours. Her puppy was just as annoyingly chipper.

  The minute we exited the RV, the dogs were immediately nose deep in the dewy grass. Missy headed toward MacAvoy’s RV. I showed some kindness to the RV’s tires, and led her toward the pathway away from our neighbors.

  Raider quickly took the lead.

  He made me nervous. “Don’t let him drag you like that,” I called out. The grass was slick from the dew; I was worried she’d lose her footing.

  “He’s anxious. He’s gotta go.”

  How long was she going to make excuses for his bad behavior?

  I picked up my pace, annoying Missy. She was already finished with her business and ready to eat. A morning walk, no matter how pleasant the weather, was not on her agenda. Across the road, I noticed a fuzzy brown bunny, nose twitching, watching us. I stop walking and quietly called to Betty to stop.

  “Why?” She turned to look at me.

  “Over there, next to the garbage, there’s a rabbit. Lead Raider away from it.”

  She huffed. “I got this. He’s not into chasing fluffy bunnies.”

  I didn’t believe her. How many times had he already chased after shadows and strangers? I slowly walked toward Betty, Raider watching me.

  “He’s a dog. As soon as that rabbit moves, Raider is going to charge. Tighten your grip on the lead.”

  Sure enough, the rabbit twitched its head and Raider flinched to attention. The bunny sensed danger and frantically hopped away, zigzag style. Both dogs immediately began barking. I tightened my grip on Missy’s leather leash, keeping her up against my leg. Raider still had plenty of slack and managed to charge toward the panicked bunny. He knocked over the garbage can in his way.

  “Heel,” I yelled.

  Thankfully, I had long legs and was able to catch him before he dragged Betty into the wilderness. The big lug whined as he watched his furry prize get away.

  I wrestled control of the fear that Betty could have been seriously injured. “He is not ready for this,” I stated, emphatically.

  Betty’s eyes teared. “He’s a good dog.”

  My heart broke for her. She loved Raider deeply and worried she’d have to give him up. “I know. But you need to keep working with Caro. And do what she says.” I released a deep breath. “Let’s clean up the mess.”

  The garbage can wasn’t full and most of what was in the dark blue plastic container was in bags, and only slightly smelly. We made quick work of gathering the trash. Betty picked up a white plastic bag with red drawstrings and carried it over.

  It looked familiar. “Hold up.”

  “You want to look through garbage?” she asked disgusted.

  I grabbed the bag and held it up, the morning sun providing a natural spotlight on the unexpected treasure. I had sunk to new lows. I was about to rummage through someone else’s trash.

  “I think that’s Pepper’s. She lied earlier. She didn’t oversleep. When I was on the phone with Mama, I saw Pepper carrying a white garbage bag in this direction.”

  “You think we’ll find something important in there?”

  I shrugged. “Anything is possible.”

  She shook her head, her white hair bouncing with the quick movement. “We must be desperate. We’re digging through the garbage looking for clues.”

  Within minutes, we were back in the RV, washing our hands. The dogs sniffed the bag, but thankfully weren’t eager to get inside. It made me think Pepper hadn’t thrown away leftover food.

  I tossed my sunglasses on the counter. “Are there any rubber gloves?”

  Betty looked inside the cabinet and found one pair. She handed them to me. “It’s your show, you do the digging.”

  “Let’s take it outside. I don’t think there’s any food in here, but I’m not willing to take any chances.”

  “Wait.” Betty opened the bottom drawer and pulled out an extra-large pair of BBQ tongs. “Ready.”

  We left the dogs inside and looked for a place to open the bag. Being the end campsite, there was little to no privacy. MacAvoy’s shades were down, but I wouldn’t put it past him to have found a sneaky way to watch us. We moved to the side of the RV farthest from MacAvoy’s windows.

  “Here we go.” I pulled on the gloves and ripped the bag open.

  There wasn’t leftover food, but there sure were a number of empty plastic food containers. Curried chicken salad. Mozzarella pasta salad. Roasted red pepper hummus.

  “Do you think she was eating this?” Betty jabbed the BBQ tongs inside the bag.

  Hudson’s words played in my head about Pepper passing off someone else’s food as her own. I continued to pull out empty Whole Foods containers. Was she was pretending to cook for someone, or was she on an eat-anything-you-want fad diet?

  “I don’t know. Maybe she thought Hudson would give her the head chef job after Addison died and she was preparing for it by stocking up on ready-made dishes.”

  Betty rummaged around at the bottom, and slowly pulled out a sheet of pale pink stationary. I recognized my mother’s handwriting.


  My heart raced; was it possible Pepper had stolen my mama’s letters?

  “Don’t read it.” My voice caught.

  “I got it.” She pulled out two more. “That’s it.”

  I released the breath I’d been unknowingly holding. We had to be sure there weren’t more. I dumped the bag upside down, emptying the remaining contents onto the grass. The possibility of finding the letters overrode the need to be sanitary.

  “There were seven envelopes. There should be four more.” I spread the trash over the grass.

  Betty’s tongs tapped a stack of extra-large index cards. “What’s that?”

  I picked one up and read it. “Pawfect Chicken Salad. Didn’t Sunday say she was looking for Addison’s recipes?” I held it out. “I think we found them. When I looked in Addison’s backpack, I saw these cards. There was also a USB drive.”

  “I bet she didn’t throw that away.” Betty said, her sarcasm unmistakable.

  I bent down and started to gather the index cards. I could hear a car approaching behind us.

  “Hurry, someone’s coming. We’ve got to clean this up.”

  Betty stood with a hand on her hips and the tongs at her side. “We’re fine. We look like we had a problem taking out our trash.”

  “Right. In purple onesies, rubber dish gloves, and BBQ tongs?”

  Betty suddenly flashed me a toothy grin. “We’re in disguise.”

  “Stop jabbering and get stuffing.”

  I jammed trash inside the bag. A vehicle slowed to a stop behind me. I kept working as quickly as I could. I said a short prayer that the driver would move along.

  “Uh, Cookie. We’ve got company.”

  My heart raced. “Shhh. Don’t look at them. They’ll keep driving.”

  “I don’t think he’s leaving.” Her voice sounded small.

  “I’m almost finished.” I heard a door shut behind me. Darn.

  I looked up. Betty’s eyes were huge. I had a bad feeling Ranger Elliott was standing behind me.

  “Melinda.” A deep male voice hit me from behind.

  Grey. Crapola. Why did the world hate me?

  Ranger Elliott would have been a blessing. This was the perfect time for a gang of flying monkeys to whisk me away to their fearless leader.

  Betty eyed him with a fidgety smile. “Hey, Handsome. You’ve been gone too long.”

  Grey, dressed in relaxed jeans and a light blue V-neck tee, strolled over to her. He bent down, and gently kissed her wrinkled cheek. “It’s good to see you.”

  The rumble of his deep morning voice rolled over me, waking me from the shock of seeing him. I stood, clutching the letters in one hand, and the garbage bag in the other.

  Grey’s sharp blue eyes quickly assessed the situation. A spark of laughter flashed across his face. His cheek twitched, but he didn’t laugh.

  I smoothed my hair with the back of a rubber gloved hand, clenching my mama’s letters. I smiled awkwardly.

  “Hey. What brings you to our neck of the woods?”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I WAS A HOT mess. This was not how I imagined our face-to-face reunion playing out. While Grey parked his SUV in the day parking area, Betty, I, and the dogs scrambled to the RV.

  Betty barked out orders. Hide the letters. Take a shower. Put on something sexy. I was rattled enough I obeyed.

  I stashed the letters in the overhead cabinet before showering as quickly as possible. I didn’t bring anything sexy, so I settled for a pair of New Religion jeans and a graphic T-shirt—my favorite: “You Had Me at Woof.” It seemed fitting.

  As I dragged a brush through my wet hair, I could hear Betty and Grey’s comfortable laughter. I smiled sadly. Betty had missed Grey. It was obvious by the way her face lit up when he kissed her. A breakup didn’t just affect the two people who’d decided they were better apart than together. Regardless of what happened between Grey and I moving forward, he needed to spend more time with Betty.

  I finished pulling my wet hair back into a loose braid, then tossed the brush in the drawer. I swiped on a hundred layers of mascara, applied clear lip gloss and pronounced my makeover complete.

  I found Grey and Betty at the dining table. Betty had changed into a navy blue jumpsuit and sneakers. She’d even managed to find time to brush her hair and reapply her Envious Orange eyebrows. She had Grey trapped at the table. But judging by the relaxed smile on his face, he didn’t mind.

  “I know you’re thinking we have a chance, you know, now that you and Cookie aren’t an item. But I gotta turn you down.” She squeezed his arm. “It’s a girlfriend code.”

  Grey’s expression turned serious, but his eyes sparkled with good humor. He nodded gravely. “I understand.”

  I walked toward them slowly, making a memory of how kind Grey was with Betty. He looked up, locking eyes with me. I felt my checks warm. With a rush of air leaving my body, I dropped onto the booth across from Grey and Betty.

  He slid a plate full of food in front of me. “Eat.”

  Someone had made fluffy scrambled eggs with gooey cheddar cheese, and perfectly browned toast sprinkled with cinnamon sugar. I’d wager fifty dollars it was Grey. It was a meal I’d eaten with him for years.

  “Thanks.” I picked up a fork and took a bite. I sighed. Exactly as I remembered. I struggled to find a neutral topic. My emotions felt like a bundle of kindling, just waiting for the right, or wrong, type of spark to set them off. I wasn’t sure what I wanted. To apologize and try to rebuild what we had. Or to accept it was over and learn to be around each other without wondering, “what if?”

  Finally, I settled with the inane comment of, “You look good.”

  “I liked your matching pajamas.” He grinned boyishly.

  I rolled my eyes. “About that. Wipe that image from your mind and never speak of it again.”

  “He thought you looked sexy.” Betty made kissing sounds.

  Grey patted her hand. “You weren’t supposed to tell her.”

  She poked his shoulder. “Yeah, well, since you broke her heart, she’s been needing some cheering up.”

  I drummed my fingers on the table. “If you don’t want me to kick you, stop helping me.”

  Betty huffed. “Well, you’re not helping yourself. Somebody’s got to do the work.” She gathered their empty plates and carried them in the sink.

  While Betty banged dishes around, I ate my toast, waiting for Grey to explain why he was here. He seemed content to silently stare at me while I finished my breakfast. I cleared my throat, wishing I could clear the tension in the room as easily.

  “You two are ridiculous.” Betty stood in front of the table. She pointed a thin, accusatory finger me. “He saw MacAvoy’s interview and got worried you were in trouble.”

  “Is that true?” My voice remained amazingly calm, considering my racing heart.

  “MacAvoy didn’t mention you by name, but he didn’t have to. You’re the only local pampered pet boutique owner in Laguna Beach. I knew you were in some sort of . . . situation.”

  I grimaced at his matter-of-fact assessment. “It could have been worse.” I filled him in on Sunday pointing her finger at me as the blackmailer and Ben catching it on camera.

  Grey’s face tightened. “He couldn’t show you on camera without your consent.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that.” I placed my fork on the empty plate.

  “That’s only part of it,” Betty supplied. “Cookie’s in serious trouble and needs your help.”

  Grey tilted his head and pinned her with his interrogation stare. “Aren’t you in trouble, too? I heard you lost the brooch? How are you going to explain that to Caro?”

  Betty squirmed. “I’m taking care of that. I’m talking about something else. I’m going to take a walk. I’ll be
back in thirty minutes.” She gave me the evil eye. “If you don’t tell him, I will.” She kissed Grey’s cheek. Then held his face in her hands like a mother chastising her son. “Don’t let her down. You got it?”

  He blinked as if surprised by her stern tone. Heck, I was just as surprised.

  “I understand,” he said.

  She studied him for a minute, then released his face. “Well, now. Raider and I are going to find your granny’s brooch.” Betty reached for his leash.

  I stopped her. “Leave him here. He’ll be fine. You’ll get more done without him.”

  “Fine. Bossy pants.” She grabbed her handbag, then stomped out the door. Muttering about how she wished she’d met Carol first.

  I stood and put my dishes in the sink. “You didn’t need to come. I’m fine. Like it or not, this isn’t the first time I’ve had to dig myself out of a bad situation.”

  “Your inability to let those who care about you help is what keeps getting you into these types of situations. You keep trying to do it by yourself and, in the process, dig yourself deeper into trouble.”

  I spun around, my expression tight, my tone tighter. “That’s not fair. Keep in mind, trust is a two-way street. Maybe I don’t ask for help because when I do, it comes with conditions.”

  Suddenly, all the anger and frustration about why we’d broken up came rushing back. I’d gone behind his back to get my Grandma Tillie’s brooch from the FBI (long story). He’d lied about being in town, and had secretly used Betty and me to help him solve the case. I hadn’t trusted him. He hadn’t trusted me. Yet somehow, I was supposed to always blindly trust him. I wanted to scream in frustration.

  His eyes shifted away from my face. I knew he was formulating a retort. I crossed my arms, bracing myself for whatever he was about to say. I’d had weeks to form my arguments. I was ready for a fight.

  Without a word, he pushed back from the table. He walked to the sink and started rinsing dishes. I unclenched my jaw and exhaled. I didn’t know what to do next. He was just giving up?

  We loaded the dishwasher in strained silence. I wiped down the counters and stove with a paper towel. “I heard my mama called you. Do I want to know what she said?”