Raiders of the Lost Bark Page 21

  We hadn’t seen Asher all morning. I wondered where he’d been hiding. Or if he was planning another heist. Craig Sutton had managed to “lose” his watch after spending an evening with sticky-fingered Asher Knox.

  Grey needed to know what I’d pieced together. I spun around to wave him back over, but he was no longer talking to Lark. Where’d he go? All he was supposed to do was inform the detectives about John.

  I turned full circle, looking for a glimpse of Grey. We needed to get back to the headquarters tent as soon as possible, and grab the box before the police seized the area for their command center. We also needed to find a way to turn the cops on to Asher before he got away with Craig Sutton’s anniversary watch. The minute the detectives were finished with us, we needed to grab Addison’s box of possessions.

  Where the heck was Grey? “Betty, stay with Veronica. I’ll be right back.”

  “You can’t leave me here with her,” I heard Betty say behind me.

  I made my way toward Lark, who was on his cell phone having what looked like a very intense conversation. Finn hurried over and held out her hand, keeping me from getting close enough that I might overhear what was being said.

  “What do you want?” Her blond hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail, making her appear tired and stern. Or maybe she always looked like that. With her non-sparkling personality, it was hard to tell.

  “I’m looking for Grey. Have you seen him?”

  She eyed me. “Yes.”

  I waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t. Good grief, I hated one-word answers. “He told you about John Bradley from the ARL? Hudson’s backup. We left him in the headquarters tent. He’s just a kid. He’s got to be scared to death.”

  Her eyes bored into mine. “He told us.”

  “Do you know where Grey went?”

  “No.”

  I managed to unlock my gaze from hers. Not waiting to hand her an opportunity to question me about my involvement with Addison’s case, I turned to leave.

  “Hold up.”

  Ugh. Grey’s words echoed in my ears. Keep my answers short and don’t offer information. I faced Finn and nailed a fake smile on my face that I hoped passed for cooperative.

  Finn folded her arms across her chest, not pretending to be anything other than unyielding. “How do you know Hudson Jones wouldn’t give Pepper Maddox her job back as head chef?”

  “He told me. He said Addison had confided in him about Pepper’s scam with passing off someone else’s cooking as her own.”

  “Why would Addison trust him enough to tell him that?”

  Was she testing me? “They were having an affair. Which you know about because you have her cell phone. I’m guessing there are photos.”

  She continued to study me. I decided there had to be a mandatory cop course on the proper interrogation stare, because both Malone and Finn had it mastered. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other.

  “How did you know about the affair?” Finn asked.

  “I figured it out. Hudson wasn’t very good at subterfuge. Pepper knew about it, too. In fact, she’d told Callum MacAvoy, the TV reporter, that if she didn’t get her job back, she’d spill Hudson’s secret. Somehow, Hudson managed to convince her that being head chef for the dog show was a more high-profile gig, so she dropped it so his affair with Addison wasn’t exposed.” I know, I know. I was offering information. What can I say? She was making me nervous.

  She gave me a pointed look. “And you know this how?”

  “Hudson. He knew Pepper wasn’t making her own food. If she was the chef here, she’d have to prepare meals in front of the guests. The dog show is more of a catering gig. She could continue to do what she’s been doing—hire someone else to cook.”

  She mulled on that for a minute. “When you were deflecting our questions earlier, you claimed Pepper had Addison’s missing recipes. How do you know that? Did Hudson confide that in you too?”

  I sighed. “I found them in her garbage.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Do you dumpster-dive often?”

  I explained about Raider knocking over the trash and how I’d seen Pepper carry out the bag the day before. I didn’t mention I was looking for my mother’s love letters.

  I could tell by the look in her eye she knew I was holding back. “If I’m to believe what you’re saying, Hudson seemed to have confided in you. Were you sleeping with him? Is that why you killed Addison? So you could have him to yourself?”

  I stepped back. “Absolutely not. Pepper’s your killer.”

  She uncrossed her arms. “Laguna Beach homicide may be fine with you sticking your nose in their cases, but I’m not. Stop playing cops and robbers or I’ll drag you down to the station. Got it?”

  “I got it.”

  Good grief. No matter where I went, I just couldn’t escape the threat of jail.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  GREY STILL HADN’T returned. I wouldn’t lie, I was concerned.

  Finn moved everyone inside the kitchen. Something about not wanting us to get sunburned and sue their department for police brutality. Her concern for our welfare was underwhelming.

  She separated us into small groups and ordered us to stay put until either she or Lark had spoken to us. Most people had found a table to sit at, while a handful of guests stood whispering. Red was allowed to continue to prep for our lunch with his sous-chef, Chase, the former butler.

  Seeing everyone in close quarters, there were less than twenty of us. I recognized the Thompsons and the Swansons. I realized the only people who weren’t at the party were Asher, the Suttons, and Mr. TV and his cameraman.

  I peeked out the front opening of the circular tent. MacAvoy couldn’t be far away. Sure enough, I caught sight of him and Ben standing on the opposite side of the roadway, which separated us from them. Ben had his camera, Mr. TV had his microphone. The dynamic duo had been regulated to the nosebleed seats. I smiled to myself. It didn’t matter that MacAvoy was here as a guest, he wasn’t getting special treatment.

  Detective Lark grabbed the Swansons and escorted them outside to begin the questioning. Mr. Thompson asked how much longer they could keep us. No one had an answer for him. Betty, Veronica, and I sat at a table facing the food prep area.

  The aroma of bacon was deliciously overwhelming in the confined area. My stomach rumbled. Whatever Red was preparing, I was ready to eat.

  Pepper had managed to weasel her way to stand next to Red at the butcher block table where he sliced sweet potatoes. He growled at her to get out of his workstation. Pepper shuffled back to the table and sat. Red swore under his breath, complaining about all the losers intruding in his workspace. I wondered if he meant Pepper specifically, or all of us in general.

  This was the first time I’d seen Pepper and Sunday in the same room since Pepper had blabbed she was afraid of the agent. I wanted to witness their interaction, but sneaky Pepper was doing everything possible to make sure there wasn’t any type of contact at all. She had perfected the act of keeping her head down.

  Veronica was upset because she’d left Henry in the RV. I tried to comfort her, telling her we wouldn’t be much longer and that he was safe. The more I reassured her, the more insistent she was about breaking camp at the first available moment. Betty wasn’t helping matters. She was on the same bandwagon as her new friend, insisting we were going back to Laguna Beach the second we were free.

  The yurt windows were uncovered, allowing a clear view of the activity around us. Or lack of activity. I walked over and gazed out, searching for any sign of Grey outside. He’d been gone for at least thirty minutes. I pulled out my cell, and set it to vibrate, not wanting to draw attention to the phone lest the police feel the urge to confiscate it. I texted Grey, Where are you?

  I shoved the phone in my back pocket and paced along t
he row of windows watching for him. In the distance, I heard sirens. Backup had arrived. Maybe the questioning would move along faster. The sirens grew louder as they got closer. Everyone gathered around the windows and entrance, watching as three police cars, a fire truck, and an ambulance pulled up.

  The emergency workers jumped out of their vehicles and met up with Lark and Finn for a debriefing.

  “Cookie, your man’s back.” Betty pointed out the window facing the spa.

  Grey strolled up to the tent, pausing for a second to watch what was happening across the street. He shoved his hands in his pockets, his face serious. He pivoted on his heel, then strolled inside the tent. After a furtive glance around the room, evaluating the situation, he made his way toward me.

  “Where have you been?” I tried to keep my tone even, pushing down my anxiety.

  His eyes shifted as he formulated an answer that was publicly appropriate. “I made a phone call.”

  I had a feeling I knew what call he’d made. I pulled him aside, for as much privacy as we could have in a circular tent, under the scrutiny of Betty, Veronica, and who knew who else was watching us.

  “About Asher?” I asked quietly.

  “Yes.”

  “I know you can’t say much, but is he a suspected jewel thief?”

  He regarded me for second then nodded once.

  “I put it together after you left. We need to tell the police.”

  Finn and Lark strode inside, sucking out the air in the room. There were two uniformed police officers on their heels. Slowly, they scanned the crowd. My heart stopped when Finn’s gaze rested on my face. Her brows drew together as she looked past, her gaze landing on Grey. It took all my self-control to not look at him. She moved on, scanning through the rest of the faces, until she finally settled on Pepper who was seated at a table in the back.

  They side-stepped the Thompsons and walked directly toward Pepper. “Pepper Maddox, we’d like to ask you some questions. If you’d follow us?” Lark took the lead while the others looked on.

  Pepper remained hunched over the table, rooted in place. “I didn’t kill Addison. I don’t care what Melinda says,” she hissed.

  Lark pulled out his notebook and read off his notes. “Did you attend the International Culinary Center in New York City?”

  She blinked repeatedly, looking confused. I think the rest of us were equally taken aback. Why was he asking her about her education and not about her relationship with Addison? Or Hudson?

  “Is your real name Julia Flowers?” he continued.

  Pepper blanched. She shook her head vigorously. “No. My name is Pepper Maddox.”

  Lark pulled out his phone and held it up to her. “This is the real Pepper Maddox. Your college roommate. She’s been living in France for the past five years. Do you recognize her?”

  Her eyes darted around, looking for an escape. “You’ve got it all wrong. I can explain everything.”

  “I doubt it,” Betty muttered.

  I hoped Lark didn’t drag Pepper off for questioning until she had confessed all in front of us.

  “This is all a misunderstanding,” she insisted. “I couldn’t afford tuition and had to drop out. She was moving to France to work for Pierre Herman, a renowned pastry chef. I just needed her school credentials to get my foot in the door. I just borrowed her name for a while.”

  Good grief. That explained an awful lot. How long did she think she’d get away with impersonating her roommate? And once she was finished “borrowing” her name, then what? She’d just go back to Julia?

  “I knew she was a hack,” Red called out from the preparation area. He shoved his way closer. His anger made him seem bigger, scarier. At least he had the presence of mind to leave his knife on the chopping block. “You’re a complete fraud. I’ve never seen you cook a single dish from start to finish by yourself.” He turned to glare at Sunday. “What did I tell you? Whatever her name is, she doesn’t know what the hell she’s doing in the kitchen. Why would you ever consider representing her? You never listen to me.”

  Sunday wasn’t the least bit intimidated by him. She pulled her tiny body to full height and glared back. “Shut. Up.”

  Fascinating. They obviously had a relationship. Betty slid me a sly grin and wagged her lipstick eyebrows. She was thinking the same thing.

  Finn stepped in front of Red, keeping him from getting any closer to Pepper. “Sir, you need to stay out of this. Go back to your table.”

  Lark pulled out his handcuffs. “Julia Flowers, you’re under arrest for falsely personating Pepper Maddox.”

  “You’ve got this all wrong,” she cried, as the uniformed officers helped her stand.

  “We’re also taking you in for questioning regarding the murder of Addison Rae,” Finn added.

  “No, no, no. I didn’t kill her. She was blackmailing me. She was blackmailing everyone,” she shrieked, as Detective Lark slapped handcuffs on her. Pepper looked over her shoulder at me, drilling a hate-filled look of desperation in my direction.

  I took a step back, bumping into Grey. He planted his hand on my shoulder, steadying me.

  “I can prove I wasn’t her only victim,” Pepper yelled as the detectives and uniformed policemen dragged her off. “I have proof.”

  Chapter Thirty

  IT ALL HAPPENED in a white-hot second. Lark handcuffed Pepper, dragged her out of the circular tent, and toward one of the marked police cars. All the while Pepper insisted, at ear-piercing volume, she had proof in her tent that she wasn’t Addison’s only blackmail victim.

  Two uniformed police officers manned the kitchen exit, making sure no one escaped before we were questioned. We all gathered in the shadows of the doorway, watching as the detectives grilled Pepper. I changed my mind. I didn’t want to hear what Pepper had to say. I wanted the cops to shove her into the backseat of the cruiser and drive away.

  I turned to Grey, unable to hide the fear gnawing inside of me. “Do you think she’s spilling her guts?”

  Grey faced me, dead serious. “Yes.”

  My stomach dropped. “You couldn’t sugarcoat that at least a little?” I whispered.

  “They gotta get a search warrant,” Betty claimed. “They can’t just march into her tent. Even a dirty, rotten, scoundrel like Pepper has rights.”

  “Actually, they can,” Mr. Thompson corrected her. “If she gives the police permission to search her quarters, they don’t need a warrant. It’s called a consent search.” He adjusted his wire-rimmed glassed to balance on his square, aged face.

  Betty studied him with a great deal of suspicion. “How do you know all this?”

  He shrugged. “My son’s a lawyer.”

  “You got his business card? Cookie might need a good lawyer in a few minutes.”

  Grey’s cheek twitched. I shot him a don’t-encourage-her look. It was times like this I really didn’t want Betty’s help.

  Mr. Thompson looked like he was about to say something, when someone in the group said, “There they go.”

  Grey pointed at Lark and Finn who marched past us, heading directly for Pepper’s tent. Unlike Lark, who grinned like he was about to tie up the case with a pretty bow, Finn’s flat expression said she wasn’t convinced. Yet.

  “Oh, yeah. She spilled her guts like one of those hopped-up police snitches,” Betty jeered. “They’re on their way to collect their booty.”

  I felt like throwing up.

  A police officer with salt-and-pepper hair approached the tent. Officer Murdock, his name tag said. Everyone stepped back, granting him entrance. He flipped open his notebook and called for the Thompsons, Veronica, and Betty. The questioning had finally begun.

  “I’ll meet you back at the RV,” Betty said as she followed Officer Murdock.

  He returned within five minutes, and called
his next group of targets. It became apparent he wasn’t the one conducting the questioning; he was just the runner. On and on it went. Until it was Grey and me left with Sunday and Red.

  Grey and I sat in silence, watching Red and Sunday do their best to ignore each other. It didn’t make sense. One minute they acted like complete strangers, the next Red was jumping down Sunday’s throat like a spurned lover.

  Murdock was back; he called for Red, Sunday, and Grey, leaving me alone. I had a bad feeling I was being saved for Finn or Lark.

  Red wiped his hands on his apron, grumbling about lunch being late as he traipsed after Murdock.

  “Let’s get this over with. I have somewhere to be.” Sunday sailed through the tent flaps.

  Grey and I exchanged a look. He squeezed my hand and said quietly, “Remember, answer their questions, don’t offer information.”

  I nodded my understanding. “Keep an eye on those two. There’s something going on there,” I whispered.

  Grey’s eyebrow lifted. “Yes, sir.” After a quick wink, he followed the others outside to be grilled.

  Now alone, I paced the tent. The longer I had to wait, the more anxious I became. I wondered what Red had been preparing other than bacon. I slipped over to the butcher block table for a look. Bacon, tomatoes, romaine lettuce, sweet potatoes, mashed cooked carrots, and wheat flour. Lordy, I hoped the carrots were for the dogs and the bacon was for the humans.

  I noticed a small leather notebook on the wooden table. I picked it up and leafed through it. It was Red’s. Recipes, plating layout sketches, recipe ideas, odd notes. Most pages were dated. I flipped to the most recent page, which was the day we arrived.

  Need ice

  Addison recipes?

  Meet Sun at 2

  Lamb? Add beef?

  Apparently, he didn’t like Addison’s recipes, and he had a meeting the following Sunday. Nothing earth-shattering there. I flipped back a couple of pages, past a few drawings and supply lists.

  Yam chips thicker

  “Pawfect” Chicken Salad