Desperate Housedogs Read online

  The police had surely searched the premises and found it. That was it.

  “What?” I jumped when Malone touched my arm. My attention hadn’t been on what he was saying but rather on worry about what I was withholding.

  “I said, wouldn’t they have acted aggressive with any stranger?”

  “No, they might be wary with a stranger.”

  “But you said, the landscaper waved a shovel at them.” Malone stepped back and looked at me like I was making a mountain out of a molehill.

  “Right. What’s more significant is their reluctance to back down. They stayed tense.”

  “Well, I’d be tense too if someone swung a shovel at me.”

  I could see Malone wasn’t buying my insight and, in fact, those had been my own thoughts at the time.

  “We’ll check it out,” he said, moving toward the door. His words said one thing, but his tone said another. “And we’ll check this out.” He tucked the Whole Foods receipt in this pocket.

  I had no confidence he and his fellow investigators would follow up. I’d have to ask around myself the next few days, when I had house calls in Ruby Point, and see if anyone else had encountered the guy.

  Chapter Ten

  You know how sometimes things seem dire and then you wake up the next morning and they don’t seem so awful? Yeah, not the case this time. It was a new day but Kevin was still dead. I was still a murder suspect. And my mother was still coming to town.

  I opened my eyes, moved a dog and two cats, and made my way to the kitchen for coffee and toast.

  Malone had called and requested my presence at the police station for fingerprinting. Since I’d been all over Kevin’s house touching things when I was searching for Grandma Tillie’s brooch, they needed to “eliminate me as a suspect” by matching my prints with the others they’d found at the crime scene.

  I was pretty sure that was cop-speak for “we think you did it and we’d like your fingerprints to prove our theory.”

  I’d had no reason to off Kevin Blackstone, and I prayed the receipt also proved I hadn’t had time.

  I decided to tackle the second problem. Hub would help me with calling Mama off which would also give me an opportunity to talk to a sane person. Hub was absolutely the sanest person I knew. He also always managed to make me feel saner.

  I pulled up his office number on my cell phone.

  “Lamont and Landry,” a soft west Texas voice answered.

  “Hi, Nancy. It’s Caro, is Daddy in?” Nancy had been with the firm for as many years as I could remember. She was in Hub’s words, “the one truly running things.”

  “He sure is, honey, but he’s with someone.” As she talked I could picture her. Perfectly styled white hair, crisp navy-blue suit, a single strand of pearls. “It sounds as if they’re almost done though. Could you hold for a little while? Or would you like me to have him call you?”

  “I’ll just hold, Nancy, if you don’t mind.”

  “Okay, honey, I’ll let him know you’re waiting.”

  The hold music clicked from whatever it had been playing to an instrumental rendition of “Sweet Caroline” and I took that as a good sign. I hummed along as I waited.

  Hub had always supported the big choices I’d made in my life. For instance my move, five years ago, to Laguna Beach. I don’t know how, growing up in land-locked Texas, I’d developed such a love for the sea, but I had. Once I’d experienced it, the ocean drew me. When I moved to Laguna, I felt like I’d finally moved home.

  People call it the Laguna Beach bubble because it seems we move at a different pace here. It’s not L.A. with the glitz, the glamour, and the big business, big stores, and big stars. And it’s not New York—that’s for sure. Nothing against New York, you understand. I’ve been there and there’s much to commend it. I love nothing better than a trip to the Big Apple. The people, the theater, the museums, and yes—the shopping. But I’m from the south, and though we’re hard-working people, we just don’t rush in the same way as New Yorkers.

  Laguna Beach is a microcosm of ages and backgrounds and interests. Old money, new money, artists and art collectors, surfers, and dog lovers. The dog lover part is the main reason I moved here. That and the ocean.

  The Montgomery clan is Texas oil money from way back when Texas was known for oil. Then my granddaddy got interested in real estate and that’s how the Montgomerys ended up with a second home in the little seaside town of Laguna Beach. We spent at least a month in Laguna every summer from the time I was a child. Usually August, which in Texas is unbearably hot.

  Let me rephrase that. August, which in Texas is as hot as Hades.

  Mama was a debutant and a beauty queen, and as I was blessed with all the requisite equipment it was expected that I would be, too. I had other ideas, and, thank the Lord, a step-father who when push came to shove supported them. I did the pageant thing like an obedient daughter until I was seventeen. Then one day, things changed.

  I’d come home from yet another back-biting, stress-inducing competition. I reeked of hairspray and gossip. All I wanted to do was saddle up my horse and get away from the noise.

  As I walked out the door, Mama said, “Don’t you mess up that manicure, missy.”

  And with the self-involvement that only a seventeen-year-old can muster, I replied, “Bite me.”

  She’s a very fast woman. And I mean that in a lot of ways.

  When she slapped me, her obscenely large diamond grazed my cheek.

  Blood dripped down my cheek and off my chin onto my riding jacket.

  “Oh, my God, look what you’ve made me do,” she snapped.

  “It doesn’t matter.” It didn’t hurt and I didn’t care.

  “Yes, it does. Get back here. We’ve got to call Dr. C right away.”

  Dr. C was Mama’s plastic surgeon. She had him on speed dial.

  Turned out the cut wasn’t that bad and didn’t even need stitches, but it was at that moment that I realized Mama’s single-minded focus on my winning beauty pageants was not about me.

  Now don’t get me wrong. I love my mother, but the woman has enough issues to start her own magazine stand. Chief among them was being the runner-up with my birth father, who contributed the DNA but not much else. Vic Howard was a movie-star-handsome rodeo cowboy who didn’t see a family in his future. My grandfather had offered him a large amount of money and an in with a rodeo promoter, and Vic had headed off into the sunset.

  That caused a bit of a scandal for the Montgomery family.

  Mama eventually recovered sufficiently to marry a wealthy widower, Hub Lamont, who I adored. Hub raised me as his own and together he and Mama had Nolan, my stepbrother. To my delight he was just a miniature little Hub.

  Anyway, most of the time Hub bowed to Mama’s wishes on things.

  Things like beauty pageants. Mama made no bones about the fact that her goal for me was Miss Texas and then Miss America. She’d been robbed of the crown by a silver-tongued distraction who played her and left her. It didn’t help that Vic had gone on to fame and fortune on the rodeo circuit, winning the Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association’s All-Around World Championship Title.

  In fact, he won it a record (at that time anyway) five times. She, on the other hand, had to settle for runner-up in the Miss Texas competition, unable to go on to Miss America where she could have wowed the nation with her talent and beauty. She became an also-ran in Vic’s life as he went on to a string of rich and beautiful starlets, playmates, and models.

  I was her only hope.

  So when I walked away from the pageant scene, Mama Kat was devastated. Now, after years of training as a therapist, I understand that better. But, of course, then I was just a seventeen-year-old bundle of hormones and attitude.

  We were civil, but it was better for both of us that I lived several states away. It was better for me if Mama Kat didn’t come for a visit in the midst of all of this insanity.

  A beep in my ear signaled that Nancy was back on the phone so I
pulled my brain back from the trip down memory lane.

  “He’s free now, Caro. Let me put you through.”

  When Hub answered, he was so happy to talk to me that I felt guilty calling to ask for such an incredibly self-serving favor.

  “Hello, how’s my favorite girl?” Hub’s voice boomed through the phone.

  “Great, Daddy. How are you?” I’d always called him ‘Daddy.’ He was the only daddy I’d ever known. I had no interest at all in finding Vic. In fact, I hoped I never ran across him in this lifetime.

  Hub took me in like I was his own and, like I said, he’d taken my side when it mattered.

  “We miss you so much, honey. I do and I know your mama does, too.”

  “That’s kind of what I’m callin’ about, Daddy.”

  He chuckled. “I thought you might be.”

  “Do you think there’s any convincing her not to come out here?”

  “I’ll do my best, but she’s got her heart set on it.”

  “I emailed her that now is not a good time.” I filled him in on a little bit of what was going on.

  “You be careful, Carolina.” His voice was gruff which meant he was truly worried. “I know you don’t like to be told what to do, but please be careful.”

  “I will.”

  “How’s our girl, Melinda?”

  “Uhm . . . I don’t really know,” I hedged. “We haven’t talked lately.”

  “Still feuding about that damn pin, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah. Well, partly that anyway.”

  “Caro, it’s just a piece of jewelry. It’s not like you to be so materialistic.”

  “No, it’s not. But Grandma left it to me.”

  “Your grandmother was never one to show favorites so I can’t think what she was up to. But the lady was a Montgomery woman through and through, so I know she was up to something.”

  I didn’t know either, but I knew for sure Grandma Tillie and I had shared something special. She never would have betrayed the relationship we had. Not that she didn’t love Melinda equally. Of course, she did.

  I’d even have been willing to share possession of the brooch, but Mel wasn’t one for half-measures, and then there’d been words. About a lot more than just the brooch. And then it was game on.

  “About Mama . . . ”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Thanks, Daddy. I owe you one.”

  “You sure do. I’ll expect you home for Christmas.” He paused. “And I’ll expect that you and Melinda Sue will have sorted things out.”

  “I’ll be home for Christmas. You can take that to the bank.” I assured him. I wasn’t making any promises on figuring things out with Mel.

  A truce like that would take two willing parties.

  In the meantime, I had bigger issues to deal with. Now that I’d done what I could to get help diverting my mother, I could get back to trying to figure out what had gone on in Ruby Point after I’d left Kevin and his dogs.

  I hadn’t mentioned to Hub that the police seemed to think I was somehow involved. He would have worried. I was always the responsible one in the family. Still I’d entered a crime scene, or contaminated the crime scene according to Malone, in order to retrieve Grandma Tillie’s brooch, and in so doing cast suspicion on myself. I only hoped the receipt I’d provided would clear me once and for all, and the detective would figure out the real killer. On top of all that, Diana’s worry about the potential for the killer being someone inside the walls of Ruby Point was unsettling.

  Maybe I was chasing my tail, but I was even more convinced it had something to do with the landscape worker who’d disappeared. At the very least, he might have seen something. At the most, he was involved.

  If the police weren’t going to track him down, I’d do it myself.

  Chapter Eleven

  Laguna Beach had gone to the dogs many years ago. Very few Laguna restaurants don’t allow dogs, at least for patio dining, but there were a few. Unfortunately Diana had picked one of those few for our lunch meeting. However, the owners and wait staff at Zino’s were pretty lenient with pet owners like Diana whose dogs went everywhere with them. That’s to say they pretended not to notice handbags and totes that wiggled and yipped.

  The hostess seated us by the open window. I glanced around the crowded bistro and then scooted my chair so I could enjoy the beautiful ocean view.

  Was it my imagination or had the room quieted?

  The bistro was casually decorated but sported starched cloths on the tables and colorful seascapes on the walls. I nodded to a couple of clients I recognized.

  Angie Westrum nodded back, her micro teacup Chihuahua, Cassie, sound asleep in her silver Kwigy Bo carrier. Angie tucked her platinum locks behind one ear and leaned forward to say something to her lunch partner.

  The comments may have been about the eggplant sandwich on her plate, but somehow I didn’t think so.

  I was used to getting a bit of attention when out and about with Diana but this seemed different. People were looking at me as much as Diana, and that could only mean word was out that I was a suspect in Kevin’s murder. What was the Oscar Wilde quote? Something about curiosity. Oh, I know. “The public have an insatiable curiosity to know everything, except what is worth knowing.” I’d been the target of that truth back in Texas when my marriage and my practice went belly up. Everyone was interested in knowing my business. Seemed like I was under the same kind of scrutiny again, and I didn’t like it any more than I had then.

  Our waiter was quick to supply mineral water for Diana and iced tea for me. I pushed aside the discomfort about what other people were thinking and saying. I knew better than to get tied up in knots over something you couldn’t do a plumb thing about.

  I ordered the blackened salmon salad as I was saving room for dessert. Diana ordered the Boeuf Français aka the French Dip as she was planning for a doggie bag. As we ate we chatted about the remaining details of the Fur Ball. Her Honor, Mayor Teri, had agreed to be the auctioneer. We had several great auction items that would add to the take and thus to the coffers of the Animal Rescue League. I was betting Mel would bid on the safari or the sky-diving package. I was hoping the whale-watching was within my price range.

  While we talked I pretended, along with the wait staff, not to notice that Diana appeared to be feeding her handbag. Mr. Wiggles was very quiet, as if he knew he needed to be on his good behavior.

  “Grey has donated a lovely piece of art for the auction.” Diana’s rose-painted finger slid down the names on our list. “But I’ve not heard back from Melinda on a donation from The Bow Wow Boutique. I don’t suppose you’d like to give her a call.”

  “I’d rather not.” I tensed as I flipped through my folder of ticket receipts.

  “It would be good for you girls to make up.”

  I glanced up to see Diana looking at me pointedly. Had she been talking to Hub?

  “It would, but I’m not sure either of us is ready. You know, I apologized for what I said to her. I’m still waiting for her apology. However, Diana, sugar, I’m sure the donation just slipped her mind. Mel is stubborn but not spiteful. At least not where animals are concerned.”

  Her cornflower blue-eyed, do-the-right-thing stare continued.

  I sighed. “I’ll call her.”

  “Good girl.”

  “What about entertainment?” I took a big bite of salmon and swallowed. “Did you hear back from your friend?”

  “He says Sarah McLachlan is already booked. He knows a lot of other people in the business though. He’ll find someone for us.” Diana continued to take a bite and then slip a morsel to Mr. Wiggles.

  “Great. Just let me know if there’s something I need to do.”

  “Oh, that reminds me. I’ve got something in the car for you. Don’t let me forget.”

  We finished our meals and, though I’d promised myself a dessert, it turned out I didn’t have room after all.

  We’d parked nose-to-nose in the parking lot and a
s soon as we arrived at Diana’s car she released Mr. Wiggles from the confines of her purse. He seemed happy to stretch. She reached in the back seat of her Bentley sedan and handed me a wicker basket.

  “What’s this?”

  “It’s from my neighbor, Oliver Hembry. I didn’t know you two knew each other, but he asked that I give this to you the next time I saw you.”

  I peeked inside.

  The basket contained a bunch of tasty looking, and even better smelling, cookies. Fancy ones.

  Sugar cookies dusted with big crystals of sugar and a group of what appeared to be chocolate chip, cranberry, pecan cookies.

  Yum. I wasn’t sorry I’d given Zino’s dessert menu a pass.

  Then I noticed they were nestled on a familiar fluffy, yellow, kitchen towel. The very towel I’d accidently taken from Kevin’s house.

  “Does this neighbor of yours happen to be a drugged out rocker who dresses in black leather and has a houseful of dogs?”

  “That’s the one!” Diana smiled. “Oliver is a fabulous cook. And I don’t think he does drugs anymore.”

  “Maybe not. Could be it’s just booze.” I wasn’t sure it was just booze, but Diana liked to believe the best of everyone.

  “Caro, honey, I’m pretty sure he’s given all that up. He does have to take some prescription drugs. For his back injury you know. And Ollie may have the occasional glass or two of wine. But I wouldn’t hold that against him. He’s a very nice young man.” Diana patted my arm.

  “Uh-huh.” I was sure my skepticism showed on my face.

  “He is.” Diana was earnest in her support of him. “And his dogs are simply wonderful. All rescue animals. All well taken care of and well-behaved.”

  “Yeah, I did notice the dogs.” The whole pack of them.

  “He doesn’t leave the house. His assistant walks them but they do get walked. He doesn’t neglect them.”

  “Wait.” I was still thinking about Ollie and baking and wasn’t exactly tracking. “He doesn’t leave the house ever?”

  “No, not at all. He has that disease people have where they are afraid to leave home.” Diana shook her head. “Arachnophobia or something.”