I pretended to consider it. “Fine, but if you cause a scene, I’ll call the cops.” I led her to the table. “Look who I ran in to. Grey, this is Quinn Reed. Mason’s wife. Quinn, this is Grey.”
He stood and offered his hand. “It’s a pleasure. I’m so sorry about your husband. Would you like to join us?” He pulled out a chair for her.
She studied him with a stiff smile. “Did you kill my husband?”
I gasped. I hadn’t expected her to ask that right out of gate.
Grey remained standing. “No.” He didn’t elaborate. Just a plain simple no.
Whatever test that was, he passed. Quinn accepted the chair. She crossed her legs. “I’m meeting someone so I don’t have much time. But I would like to ask a question.”
“Of course,” Grey said. “Would you like some wine while you wait for your companion? I’m sure we can get another glass.”
She sniffed as if wine was beneath her. “I don’t drink.”
I was miffed that she came at Grey like that, but I reeled in my irritation and leaned toward Quinn, offering a sympathetic smile. “I was telling Grey earlier about what happened yesterday. You looked like you were about to faint. Are you feeling better?”
She brushed the whole incident off. “It was nothing.”
“Are you sure? You said you thought you saw a ghost. I have to tell you, you looked like you’d seen one.”
She avoided my gaze. “It must have been my imagination playing tricks on me.” She turned her attention to Grey. “I’d like to know more about this art transaction between you and my late husband.”
He nodded solemnly. “I’ll tell you what I can.”
“Once Mason bought the painting, did he take it with him?” she asked.
“No, he wanted it delivered to his home.” Grey spoke in a purposeful tone, leaving no room for misunderstanding.
Quinn pursed her lips. “Do you recall what address that was?”
He shook his head. “Not off the top of my head. I might recognize the street name.”
“We’re in Temple Hills, on Mar Vista Way.”
“I’m sorry. I haven’t delivered a piece to that area in a long time.”
“I see,” she murmured.
“I don’t. If he didn’t have it delivered to your store or to your home, where did he have it sent to?” I asked, genuinely perplexed.
She bristled. “I believe to our bookkeeper. Mason was hiding it from me. The crook.”
I blinked back my surprise at her disgust.
“Could he have wanted to surprise you with a gift?” Grey asked.
“It possible,” she conceded. “He could be rather romantic.” She swung her crossed leg. “It’s been years since he’s surprised me with anything that significant.”
Watching Quinn’s body language, I thought about Bree’s claim that she and Mason were in love, and that he was leaving his wife. Maybe he was romancing a new lady love. That led me to an uncomfortable thought. What if Colin and Quinn were past lovers?
I shifted in my chair. “Quinn, I learned we have another mutual friend.”
“Oh,” she sounded distracted.
“Colin Sellers. My dog sitter. Young, brownish-blond hair. Very good-looking.”
Quinn’s leg froze mid-swing. She tried desperately not to react, but she failed miserably. “I don’t think I know him. I don’t have a dog.”
“He said he knew you and Mason. I think he mentioned talking to Mason just last week.” I continued digging, using the information Bree shared.
“He did?” she sounded scared.
That wasn’t the reaction I was expecting. Why could she possibly be afraid of Colin? I exchanged a confused look across the table with Grey. My phone vibrated in my handbag. I ignored it. Whoever it was would leave a message.
“He’s also dating my best friend, Darby Beckett, a photographer. She owns Paw Prints Photography.”
“I said I don’t know him,” she snapped. She stood abruptly.
The diners at the table next to us paused their conversations and gawked in our direction.
“I’m sure my dinner companion has arrived.” Quinn rushed off without a backward glance in our direction.
“That was telling.” I pulled out my cell to see if the caller had left a voicemail.
“She knows Colin.” Grey pushed Quinn’s chair up to the table.
“I agree. But why deny it? Was she afraid, or am I reading that into her reaction? I can’t help myself from wondering, but is it possible Quinn and Colin were . . . intimate?” I screwed up my face, disturbed by the possibility.
“Anything is possible. Don’t discount it until you can rule it out.”
My phone rang again. “It’s Darby.”
“It must be important. You better get it.”
I silently agreed. “Hey Darby, what’s going on?”
“Are you still with Grey?” Her panicked voice surprised me.
I shot a worried look at him. “I am. I’m going to put you on speaker phone.” I turned my phone volume down so our private conversation wasn’t broadcasted throughout the room. “What’s wrong?”
“Colin’s been taken in for questioning about Mason’s murder.”
Grey and I stared at each other. I was at a complete loss for words.
“Where are you?” Grey took over the conversation.
“The police station. Detective Malone is with him right now.”
“We’re on our way. Stay put.” Grey gently took the phone from my hand and ended the call. “Let’s go.” He pulled out his wallet and left a pile of cash on the table.
I grabbed my purse and stood. I finally found my voice. “Sure wish you would have run that background check like I asked you to.”
Chapter Eighteen
THE LAGUNA BEACH police station was quiet at nine o’clock at night. Darby sat on the edge of her hard plastic chair straight from the eighties. Her shaky hands clutched the canvas shoulder bag in her lap. I sat next to my devastated best friend in silence. Grey stood in front of us, hands in his pant pockets.
“What happened?” Grey asked gently.
I wrapped my arm around Darby’s shoulders, offering support.
“I went to confront Colin this evening about what Bree said about him. While I was at his house, Detective Malone showed up.” She shuddered.
“Why?” I asked.
“I guess MacAvoy went to Malone this afternoon and spilled everything Bree said about Colin.” Her voice quivered as she told her story. She took a deep breath and looked at Grey. “I guess Malone ran a background check on him.”
“Did he?” Imagine that. I shot some major side-eye in Grey’s direction.
He returned my look with one of his own that screamed, “Not now.”
I almost didn’t want to ask, but I did anyway. “I take it they found something suspicious?”
She nodded. “He’s Mason’s stepson,” she said on a hiccup.
You could have knocked me over with a feather. “Holy cow. Why not just admit that when he arrived?” Not to judge, but he didn’t seem too upset about Mason’s death.
Darby let out a shaky sigh. “I don’t know all the details, but from what Colin was able to tell me, he believes Mason murdered his mother years ago, but her body was never found. Last month was the twentieth anniversary of her death. Colin tracked Mason here. He just wanted to know the truth once and for all.”
Hell’s Bells. This was bad. No, this was worst-case scenario. I didn’t have to be in Malone’s position to see how a confrontation between the two men could easily turn into a shoving match. Colin accidently pushing his stepfather down the stairs in anger.
I struggled for something to say. “I guess Mason’s death was officially ruled homicide.”<
br />
Something caught Grey’s attention. He shifted his gaze toward the hallway. “Malone,” he warned under his breath.
My stomach sank. His appearance wasn’t a good sign. Detective Judd Malone had perfected the expressionless face. I had no idea what he was feeling or thinking, but I could safely say he was not excited or even happy to see us.
He stopped next to Grey. “Donovan. Melinda.” I wouldn’t call it a greeting, more like an acknowledgment that we were breathing the police station’s air.
Grey nodded. “Detective.”
Malone wore black jeans and a black t-shirt. Was that all he owned? I’d love to take a sneak peek in his closet.
Darby sprang to life. She jumped to her feet. “He didn’t kill him.”
Malone almost looked sorry for her. “You should go home. Mr. Sellers will be here a while.”
She shook her head. “I’m staying.”
“MacAvoy is on his way,” the detective warned us. A flicker of compassion flashed across his stone face.
I nodded my thanks for looking out for Darby. He certainly didn’t need to. Malone spoke in hushed tones with Grey. Both men were all business.
I tore my attention away from them and focused on my friend. “Darby, you hardly know Colin.” I lowered my voice.
Her small frame vibrated with determination. “We have a lot in common, don’t you think? You hardly knew me, but when I was accused of killing Mona, a mother I’d never met until moving here, you stood by me.”
That was a different time. A different homicide. “It’s not the same.”
“Why not?” she demanded.
I rubbed my face. For one thing, not once did I think she was hiding a Texas-sized secret. Truth be told, in the back of my mind, I always felt Colin was hiding something.
Malone left. I assumed he returned to questioning Colin.
It was time for my best friend to face some hard truths. “If it wasn’t Colin, then who?” I asked. “Because right now, he has the best motive in the world.”
“That’s what I need your help in figuring out.” Darby’s pleading blue eyes broke my heart. “He did stop by Hot Handbags, but he swears Mason was already dead.”
I looked at Grey, who’d been silent during the majority of the conversation, for help. “I have to agree with Mel. He has a strong motive. Does he have an alibi for earlier in the morning?”
“He was walking Goose.”
“Goose?” he asked with a raised brow.
“His dog,” I said.
“Did he talk to anyone? A neighbor, business owner?” God bless Grey; he was trying.
She shook her head.
I sighed. “I’m not sure what we can do, but we’ll do what we can. Right, Grey?”
The look he gave me was not encouraging.
I grabbed Darby’s hand and squeezed. “Betty’s going to be beside herself when she finds out we were at the police station without her.”
GREY FOLLOWED ME home around eleven that night. I invited him inside to talk about Darby’s situation and what, if anything, we could do to help her. My head was still spinning with the late evening’s events. I poured us each a glass of wine to unwind.
We sat on the couch in the dim table lamp lighting. Missy curled up between us, snoring, not a care in her doggie world. A comfortable silence surrounding us as we contemplated Darby and Colin.
“What do you think?” I grabbed a throw pillow and tucked it behind my back for support. Now that the excitement was over and the wine warmed my body, I realized I was exhausted.
Grey stretched out his long legs. “It’s good sign that Malone didn’t arrest him. That means he’s still building his case.”
“But it sounds like it’s a going to be a solid case.”
He shrugged. “No case is perfect. But Malone is a good detective.”
I set my wine on the end table. I hopped up from the couch and grabbed the notepad and pencil from the junk drawer in the kitchen. I returned to the living room and dropped to the couch.
“Okay, let’s review. We have a handful of suspects: Colin, the stepson; Bree, aka ‘Amazon Barbie,’ the mistress; Quinn, the not-so-grieving widow; Evan, the bookkeeper; and Leo, the businessman.”
Grey smiled. “Thanks for leaving me off the list.”
“You were never on it.”
He shifted his position to face me. Missy opened one eye and snorted her objection. He patted her head and told her to go back to sleep.
“If we take Colin off the list, who has the strongest motive?” I asked.
“All of them,” Grey stated.
We studied the suspect list. I wrote the words “Love or Money” and underlined them twice.
“The motive is either love or money,” I said.
“Probably,” he agreed.
I’d place my money on love every time.
Chapter Nineteen
I WOKE UP EARLY the next morning. That would be around seven for me. After the night before, I needed to start the day with a clear head, so I took a short run on the beach before the sunburned tourists dominated the popular destination. I soaked up the sunshine as my feet pounded the wave-packed sand. I concentrated on the rhythm of my stride, blocking out all other thoughts. One thought I wasn’t able to banish was that I didn’t have a dog sitter anymore. Colin had to concentrate on clearing his name.
Once home, I ate a banana and some Greek yogurt. Missy demanded a few dried apple slices of her own. I grabbed a quick shower and dressed comfortably in a pair of black leggings and a silver asymmetrical tunic. I swiped on some mascara and lip gloss. Finally ready for the day, I kissed Missy on the head, slipped on a pair of flats, and headed to the shop.
It was during the crawl down PCH in the morning beach traffic that I had a brilliant idea. I’d call Evan Dodd to schedule an appointment with the bookkeeper. It was time to figure out exactly what he knew and if he was covering for Mason. But first I had a few special orders to place, and I wanted to call my mama. I noticed she’d left a couple of voicemails during my run. I knew from experience, if I waited too long to return her call she’d not only keep calling, but she’d send in reinforcements.
I arrived at the shop around nine thirty, the first one in for the day. I booted up the computer and opened the register. There were no messages requiring a response, so I quickly made my calls. Evan wasn’t in yet, but his answering service was able to schedule an appointment at eleven. Mama had called to inform me she’d registered Elmsly at a Dallas high-end boutique. Mama was on and off the phone in record time.
Betty rolled in wearing a new purple satin muumuu with a lace collar at precisely ten o’clock, a solid hour before we opened.
She stowed her straw handbag in the office then rushed back to the coffee bar. I’d started a fresh pot after my phone calls.
She sniffed the air. “Smells strong. What are you doing here so early, Cookie?” Betty poured herself a mug full of the strong brew and tasted it.
“Just wanted to get a jump on the day.”
“I bet. I heard about all the excitement last night.” She wiggled her mocha-brown eye brows. They almost looked normal. Almost.
“There was more waiting around than thrills.” I downplayed the drama.
“But I heard we’re conducting our own investigation now that Grey’s off the hook and the Dog Whisperer is the prime suspect.” She slapped out her investigator’s notebook next to the creamer. “I’ve been doing a little digging for a while.”
I picked up the notebook and handed it back to her. “Is that where you’ve been disappearing to every afternoon?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but no. That’s a whole new project.” She tucked the notebook under her arm.
I was afraid to ask but couldn’t stop myself. “What
project?”
She grabbed her mug. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”
“I can’t wait.” My sarcasm was as thick as week-old coffee.
She shuffled to the counter. She tossed her notebook down and set her cup on top of it.
“My flowers still look beautiful.” She stuck her nose in the middle of the blooms and inhaled deeply. “They smell heavenly. How do you think our sexy detective will take it when I tell him I have a boyfriend?”
Relieved? “I’m sure he’ll get over it in time.”
“I’ll make sure to let all the fellows down gently. I am a hard habit to break, ya know.” She cocked her hip and batted her eyes.
The front door opened, and in sauntered Mr. TV.
“Who left the door unlocked?” I asked, immediately irritated by the arrival of our uninvited guest.
“That was you, Cookie,” Betty cackled. “It was unlocked when I got here.”
Damn.
“Ladies.” His rich TV-ready voice needlessly broadcasted his arrival. He made an effort to impress today, dressed in his business casual outfit with sport coat.
“No need for dramatics. It’s just me and Betty.” I rolled my eyes. If only everyone else loved him as much as he loved himself, he might actually have a decent-sized fan club.
Betty raced toward him and stopped him. “I have some bad news.”
He looked at me, silently asking for help. I shook my head. “You entered on your own free will. You get what you get.”
He shoved his hands in the front pockets of his black chinos. “Mrs. Foxx, what bad news?”
She grabbed his bicep and squeezed. “I got me a sugar daddy.”
He blinked. “You do?”
She patted his chest over the sport coat he wore. “I know it’s hard, but you’ll have to move on. I’m a faithful woman so you’ll have to turn your attention elsewhere. And Cookie’s back with her handsome man, so she’s not available either.”
“Well, I’m devastated to hear that you’ve been taken off the market. He must be an interesting fellow.”
“That he is,” I interjected before Betty spilled all the happenings here at the shop, like the arrival of our newest intern.
The Dogfather Page 17
