Barking with the Stars Page 2

  “There’s something I need to tell you.” Shar looked up from the paper, her blue eyes blinking furiously.

  “What is it?” Shar and I had some history and her nervousness could mean a number of things.

  “It’s just that I don’t know if you know it, but there are some online sites with bad reviews about you and your business,” she said in a rush. “Some of the others were talking about it earlier. No one believes them, of course, but I thought you should know.”

  Geoffrey.

  Apparently not content to simply spread lies about my mental health, he’d also taken advantage of other ways to trash me and my business. What a jerk.

  “Thanks for letting me know.” I unclenched my fists and concentrated on breathing normally. “I really appreciate it.”

  “I don’t know what you can do, but thought you’d want to know.” She went back to reading through the list.

  Once I’d finished up with Shar and Babycakes, I moved on to my next celebrity check-in. I shared my tip sheet and then spent some time with Armand and Elizabeth Watts, who’d just had their first child.

  I had been working with them for months. Their little Skye Terrier, Plucky, had initially had some difficulty in dealing with the idea that he was no longer the center of their world. But they had been great to work with and things were going well now. Armand, a superhero movie actor, and Elizabeth, a romcom darling, were the latest Hollywood “It” couple and the people-watching magazines followed their every move, so lending their support to Barking with the Stars would add even more press interest in the event.

  As I was leaving their dressing room, I saw Rufus down the hallway chatting with Diana, and decided to check in. I knew she understood, but I’d sort of left Diana standing when I walked away from Geoffrey.

  “How do you think things are going?” I asked.

  Rufus’s color seemed to have calmed, so I hoped that was a good indication his blood pressure had returned to normal and that things were going smoothly.

  “Well, our celeb-who-shall-not-be-named has apparently calmed down.” He tapped his tablet and looked around. “At least for now.”

  “I was going to check out her dressing room next, but I really wanted to do my assessment with her and the dog present. Maybe I’ll stop by her place on my way home.” Perhaps I could help in providing some calm or at least figure out what had her so on edge.

  “Oh, she’s not there.” His smile seemed like more of a grimace. “We’ve put her up in the Starfish Suite here at the hotel.”

  “Really?” The woman had just purchased a fabulous house in Laguna Beach. The drive to the hotel was ten, maybe fifteen, minutes, tops. “Why would you need to do that?”

  “She’s having some remodeling work done on her house and the noise is, quote, driving her up a wall, unquote.” He made air-quote hand gestures as he spoke.

  “Then it makes it even easier for me to stop by.” I patted his arm. “Hang in there, Rufus. You’re doing great. Besides, in a week this will all be over.”

  “Thanks, Caro.” He smiled, this time a genuine smile. “You’re right. Just so many egos in one place. Sometimes I wonder what we were thinking.”

  On my way back to the lobby, I ran in to Mandy, Purple’s assistant, who was pushing a luggage cart through the courtyard and toward the westward wing of the complex.

  “Can I get someone to help you with that?” I held the door for her to pass through. “I’m sure the hotel staff would be happy to assist.” In fact, I was pretty sure they would be appalled that she was doing it herself.

  “No, I’m good.” Mandy was smaller than I was in stature, but she clearly worked out. She wasn’t having any problem maneuvering the overloaded cart. “Thanks, though,” she added as an afterthought.

  I followed her to the next doorway and held it as well. “I’d heard you and Purple were setting up here for the duration.”

  “Yep, the noise the contractors were making in doing the demo work was awful.” She stopped in front of the elevator and pushed the button.

  “Listen, I was hoping to check in with Purple and Lavender.” I realized Mandy, much like Rufus, kept everything running. “Would now be a good time?”

  “I can check.” She pushed the button again. “It’s been a stressful day.”

  I wanted to ask about the earlier incident but it was really none of my business. “I don’t want to put you in a bad spot, so if she’s not up to it, that’s fine. I can come back. But it might be a good idea if I see how Lavender is doing. Especially after a day in all the chaos.” The elevator had arrived and I held the door for her. “The problems she’s had I understand have mostly been in hotels when you all were on the road.”

  “You’re welcome to try.” Mandy pushed the luggage rack into the elevator. “Follow me.”

  The elevator stopped on the sixth floor and we got off. Again, I held the door so she could push the cart through. As she turned it toward the hallway leading to the rooms, one of the boxes shifted and I reached forward to grab it.

  “Holy Guacamole! Don’t run me over.” A voice from the other side of the cart sounded all too familiar.

  “Betty?” I leaned around the cart to see Betty Foxx, who worked at my cousin Melinda’s pet boutique.

  “Carmen, what are you doin’ here?”

  Betty never called me by my given name. I’d given up on figuring out whether it was due to not actually remembering it or if she was messing with me. Clearly her loyalties lay with my cousin, Melinda, so I was guessing the latter.

  “I could ask the same of you,” she shot back.

  Betty, as usual, was dressed in what some might call satin pajamas but what she’d determined was fashion-forward day wear. This matched set was a hot pink with big white polka-dots. As always, the look was finished off with a single strand of pearls and eyebrows painted on with lipstick.

  You heard that right. Lipstick eyebrows. In this case, neon pink.

  On this foible as well, I’d given up on trying to figure out the logic.

  “Well, I got this here bow. Made special for that big star Purple’s dog.” Betty held aloft what looked like a corsage box. “I gotta deliver it to her and when I went by the house, the lady there told me she was living here. Temporarily.”

  “I can take that.” Mandy held out her hand.

  “No way, Jose’, lady.” Betty shook her gray curls and held the box out of reach.

  “Purple is not seeing anyone right now,” Mandy said firmly. “She’s resting.”

  “Well, it looks like you and Carol are goin’ that way so I’ll just tag along.” Betty shifted her white patent-leather pocketbook and crossed her arms. “I’ll hang out until she’s rested and ready to see me.”

  “Fine.” Mandy seemed to know she wasn’t going to win this one. “Follow me.”

  When we reached the Starfish Suite, Mandy took out a key card, swiped it, and opened the door. “You two wait here.” She held up her hand.

  I hated being lumped in with Betty, and the fact was I was still plenty upset with her and the problems she’d caused my cousin, Mel, and me over a family brooch. Mel and I had been on the outs for a while over our Grandma Tillie’s brooch, and just when we were getting close to a truce, well, let’s just say Betty stepped in and made things worse. And now neither of us had the brooch.

  Mandy motioned us into the room.

  Referring to the space as a “room” was a pretty big understatement. The suite was probably on par with my house in terms of square footage.

  Purple was ensconced in a large royal-blue high-backed chair. She was draped in a black-and-white satin robe, and her Lhasa Apso, Lavender, sat on a small settee by her side. Although I’d met with the pop star many times, I was always disconcerted by being unable to make eye contact.

  Her platinum-bl
ond wig completely obscured the top half of her face and the usual vivid streak of purple accented the right side. What I could see of her face was smooth and flawless, her jawline delicate. Her lips, the deep hue of a classic red rose, were perfect.

  In the short time I’d known her it always seemed to me Purple was forever on stage. Setting the perfect scene. Playing a part. As a psychologist, I found it fascinating. As a person, I found it concerning.

  Mandy had pulled the luggage cart into the room and had begun taking the boxes off one by one. Her movements were swift and efficient, like the woman herself. Pick up a box, pull it off, drop it. One after another.

  “Would you like something to drink?” Purple raised the crystal glass she held, her voice soft and nothing like the strident tone I’d overheard when I’d been in Shar’s dressing room. “Perhaps some pomegranate juice? It’s very good for you.” She set the glass down on a small white satin-draped tray on her lap. More of the staging. “Mandy, would you get these lovely ladies something to drink?”

  “No, thank you,” Betty and I answered at once.

  “Please have a seat.” The singing sensation made a regal gesture in the direction of the couch.

  Betty and I sat down side by side on the blue-and-white striped sofa. I looked over at Betty and her odd outfit and bizarre hot-pink eyebrows. Somehow it didn’t seem quite as crazy in the presence of a pop star with a wig covering her most of her face.

  “What’s with the wig?” Betty asked, always to the point. “Can you see outta that?”

  “You’ve brought the bow?” Purple ignored her question and held out her hand. Slim and elegant fingers tipped in a dark magenta.

  Betty scooted forward and handed the box to her.

  Purple opened it and held it out for us to see. A big purple hairbow with tufts of wide gold.

  “Perfect.” She stroked the shiny ribbon. “Look, Mandy. This will be perfect.” She held it high over her head so her assistant could admire it.

  “Very nice.” Mandy had all the boxes unloaded from the cart and had begun to open them setting the contents on the large, glass conference table. The boxes appeared to contain awards and other memorabilia. I wondered why Purple would need those at the hotel. But then, I wondered about a lot of things in this situation.

  “What’s all this?” Betty had moved from the couch to where Mandy worked. She picked up a trophy that looked a bit like an Oscar but the figure was a woman whose face was obscured by hair. A Purple, maybe, instead of an Oscar. “Man, that’s heavy.” She almost dropped it.

  “Put that down.” Mandy’s voice was sharp as she took the statuette from Betty and put it down carefully on the table.

  “Fine.” Betty, not to be deterred, moved on to another item. “Hey, this doll looks just like you. I guess it does anyway.” She lifted up the doll’s hair to peer at the face. “Why do you cover your face? I knew a lady once who had a bad accident and she kinda wore her hair over one side. That what happened to you?”

  Again, with a glare Mandy removed the item from Betty’s hand and placed it on the table.

  “Betty.” I gave the little senior a hard stare. “Not appropriate.”

  She shrugged her narrow satin-clothed shoulders and moved on to another item. “Sorry. Just askin’.”

  “What do you think, Caro?” Purple held the bow out to me. “Would you try it on Lavender, please?”

  I took the bow from her and turned it over in my hand. “Custom-made by Kim’s Designs exclusively for the Bow Wow Boutique,” the tag said. It was good quality and light enough it shouldn’t be a problem for the dog.

  I bent down and clipped it to Lavender’s top knot. I stroked her back and she wiggled a little in answer. She didn’t seem to mind the bow.

  “After my parents were killed, my grandfather raised me.” Purple’s tone was suddenly very serious. “He was a decorated veteran of World War II and I always wear his Purple Heart close to my heart.” She tugged on a chain that had been hidden by her robe collar. “That’s why I wanted to do this event for the vets.”

  “I’m sure Warriors for the Paws appreciates your support.” I was feeling a little softer toward her. “Your involvement will make such a difference in what they can accomplish.”

  Mandy unclipped the ribbon from the dog and placed it on the desk. “I’ll put this with the rest of her things for the show.” She went back to unpacking the boxes.

  I wondered what it was like having someone as efficient as Mandy taking care of all the details of your life. There were days when I needed someone like her.

  “What’s this?” I could see Betty inching closer and closer to Purple but I wasn’t sure what she was up to. She’d picked up a plastic bag from Mandy’s cart.

  “That is medication. Put it down.” Mandy was out of patience with Betty. I understood. I’d been there myself from time to time.

  “I’ll attach my gramp’s Purple Heart lapel pin to Lavender’s bow,” Purple continued, oblivious to Mandy’s irritation, “and we’ll both be honoring him when I go on stage for the finale.”

  Betty moved back toward the couch but very close to Purple, and as she did I saw something in her hand, and realized her intent. The scamp was going for Purple’s wig.

  “Betty!” I stepped forward to stop her.

  As I did she tripped over my foot.

  And ended up face first in Purple’s lap.

  Red liquid flew everywhere. Purple’s white wig was red.

  The white on her black-and-white robe was red.

  The dog was red.

  “What happened?” Betty raised her head, the white satin drape from the tray Purple had been holding had landed on Betty’s head. It covered the top of her face, a satin mirror of Purple’s iconic look. She lifted it up and peeked out. Red juice dripped from her hair, her eyelashes, her nose.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. She didn’t appear to be injured but I wanted to be sure. “Is everyone all right?”

  “What on earth?” Mandy had rushed over.

  “I’m so sorry. Mrs. Foxx tripped over my foot.” I had no idea why I was defending the elderly rabble-rouser. “Purple, are you okay?”

  Mandy picked up the small camera which had flown out of Betty’s hand and landed on the floor when she tripped.

  “Take her and get out.”

  Chapter Three

  BETTY AND I stopped in the hotel restroom and cleaned her up so she could drive home. I offered to call Mel or Betty’s daughter, but she’d insisted she was fine. As upset as I was with her, I did want to make sure she was okay.

  Once Betty was off, I gathered up my bag and headed back to the lobby. And what a lobby it was. I hadn’t had time to truly appreciate it in my earlier rush. The Ocean Mark P was the west coast installation of a pair of newly opened high-class resort hotels. The P was for Pacific. Its sister hotel on the Atlantic coast, Hilton Head’s Ocean Mark A, had been open a couple of years.

  Across the sand-colored stone promenade, Sunny Simone stood chatting with Rufus McGrill. The lanky redhead still clutched his ever-present notebook. I thought maybe it would be a good idea to give him a heads-up about Betty’s close encounter of the pomegranate kind with Purple.

  Heading in their direction, I paused a few seconds by the unique aquamarine fountain that graced the center of the lobby. The calming ebb and flow sounded like waves on Main Beach, and the sparkle of the water as it splashed down the crystal palm fronds reminded me of the spray of water when my pooch, Dogbert, shook off the salt water after a run on the beach.

  Deep breath.

  As I approached Sunny and Rufus, I noticed a big mountain of a man with dark skin, darker eyes, and a military posture who stood to one side holding the leash of a gorgeous black Lab. He was obviously waiting to speak to one of them as well. I stepped toward him to wait for them to fi
nish their conversation.

  Though I’m tall, this guy towered over me. The dog, who sported a working-dog vest, stayed close by his side. When I reached out a hand to introduce myself, the Lab stepped between us, but the man motioned to him with a hand sign as if to say, “It’s okay.”

  I waited. It was difficult to not pet the Lab, but I knew that with therapy or service dogs, a stranger’s touch, though well-intentioned, can often be an unwelcome distraction.

  “Caro Lamont, pet liaison for the event.” I indicated my name badge.

  “Jonathan Trimble, I work with Warriors for the Paws.” He took my hand. “And this is Whiskey.” He indicated the Lab.

  “What a handsome boy.” As much as I wanted to, I still didn’t pet him. “Do you work on the training side? I’m fascinated with the process and what type of a facility you have. I’d love to know more about it.”

  I glanced at Rufus and Sunny. Still talking.

  “We do the majority of the training with the veteran in his or her home so not a lot is done there.” He lifted a muscular arm and ran a hand over his bald head. “The work we do at the facility is mostly working with the dog to see if it’s a good candidate. These are shelter dogs so we’ve got to know if there are any issues that would present problems.” The deep timbre of his voice said drill sergeant but the good humor on his face belied that notion.

  “I didn’t realize you used shelter dogs. Do you choose certain breeds over others?” I was curious because some breeds are easier to train.

  “We have good success with Labradors, Golden Retrievers, and German Shepherds, but we’re willing to work with any breed.” He shifted his position and again the Lab positioned himself between us. “Sometimes the veteran contacts us because he or she has a dog in mind, but in most cases, we’re placing a shelter dog that’s already been evaluated.”

  “When you work with the potential owner-trainer in their home, what kind of behaviors are you working on?” The idea of the veteran being involved in the training made a lot of sense to me.