Desperate Housedogs

by Sparkle Abbey

“Have you met Sam and his grandmother?” Grey nodded in their direction. By this time they’d moved from the doorway into the main viewing room.

  “I’ve met Sam. I ran into him on the beach. Literally.” I watched as Mr. I’m-Too-Sexy-for-This-Room stood smiling down at the elderly woman by his side. He seemed oblivious to the females who were drawn in his direction like they’d just spotted a shoe sale at Neiman Marcus. “What do you know about him?”

  I watched as single women, and a few married ones, were caught in his undertow.

  “Quite a lot actually.” Grey’s eyes lit with impish amusement. “But it’s always best you learn those things on your own.”

  “Brat.” I smiled when I said it.

  “I’ve got to mingle.” He glanced around the room and then stopped. “I’ve not been to see Diana. Please tell her hello for me, and, Caro, I know you’ve been asking questions. I know asking you to stop would be a lost cause, but promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “Always.” I waved him on. “Go. Schmooze.”

  I’d had enough of the crowd, but I really wanted to use this opportunity to hear the gossip. I wanted to know if there was anyone who’d seen the Ruby Point gardener I was beginning to think was a figment of my imagination. I wanted to know if anyone was overly happy about Diana staying in jail. I wanted to know who was most uncomfortable with my snooping, and who knew anything about Kevin’s brother.

  I made my way around the room. I sipped champagne. I talked art and dogs. I commiserated about the awful parking that was sure to come with warm weather and tourist season.

  I promised to help on a volunteer crew with the Trash Bash beach clean-up. All the usual chatter. Many people who knew Diana and I were friends asked about her, and I watched their reaction as I explained she was refusing bail.

  Nothing suspicious. Concern for the most part. Astonishment she’d stay in jail. A bit of amusement at her publicity stunt. The lady was known for being a little eccentric.

  My feet were killing me. I slipped off one of my Christian Louboutin pumps and wiggled my toes to get a bit of circulation back. I loved the shoes, adored the heels, but there was no sitting at these affairs, and I was ready to be done.

  I felt his warmth before the whisper of his breath on the back on my neck. “Difficult to see the art with so many people, isn’t it?”

  I turned into Samuel Gallanos, who was standing so close I couldn’t imagine how I’d not heard him approach. I guessed he’d qualify as the strong but silent type.

  “It is.” I slipped my shoe back on and stood at full height. Unlike Detective Malone, Sam didn’t tower over me. With the Louboutin heels, he was only a bit taller. But like Malone, he conjured an awareness, a heat.

  What a dang inconvenient time for my female hormones to decide they weren’t dead. And with two men in the span of a week. Go figure that.

  “Do you have a favorite?” He inclined his head toward the artwork.

  “I’m partial to Katzumi.”

  “Ahh, the Turk, a good choice. A sense of passion behind the facade.”

  He smiled and I suddenly felt as if we were talking about more than paintings.

  “Your grandmother is beautiful.”

  “She is,” he agreed. “In all ways.”

  I got the concept. Grandma Tillie had been beautiful in all ways, too.

  “I came over here with the lame idea of asking you to dinner to make up for my dog’s bad manners.” He flashed a self-deprecating smile. “But on the way over, I decided you are a woman who values honesty above all things. So, I’ll simply confess that I’m intrigued by you and I want in the worst way to take you to dinner and get to know you better.”

  It was flattering to be the target of the most eligible guy in the room. It was smart he’d abandoned a line that was an easy no. It was refreshing he hadn’t thought I was an easy yes.

  Still, I didn’t think dinner with Sam Gallanos was a good idea. I had a murder to solve, a friend to get out of jail, and a mother to divert.

  I didn’t need a distraction right now. Albeit a charming and handsome one. If he was still around after the universe was back in alignment, I might think about it.

  He took the “no” graciously. But I had the sense he wasn’t giving up.

  In all seriousness, I wasn’t sure I wanted him to.

  I admire gumption and grit and, in spite of his fancy polish, I believed Sam Gallanos had those qualities in spades. I went home that night with a little more to think about than Kevin Blackstone’s death and getting Diana’s name cleared.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Diana had turned the Laguna Beach jail into a five-star hotel. I went to visit her first thing the next morning. The guard escorted me to the holding area where Diana had added a rug and fresh flowers.

  “Hello, hon.” I kissed Diana on the cheek. “How are you today?”

  “Good, Caro. And you?”

  “I’m fine.” I handed her a bag of goodies. “You missed one heck of a gallery event last night at Grey’s.”

  “I did?” Diana rummaged in the bag I’d brought. “Shoot. I would’ve enjoyed seeing the sights.”

  She looked up at me with interest. “What did you wear?”

  “A Stella McCartney botanical print. You know, the sort of tropical one I bought the last time we went shopping up north.”

  “Ah, I remember. All those vibrant colors. Beautiful with your coloring, Caro. I wish I had your gorgeous red hair and flawless complexion. And your height and carriage.” She grinned her signature impish grin. “If you weren’t so doggone nice, I’d be so green with envy I couldn’t stand to be around you.”

  “Oh, quit.”

  “Now tell me what everyone else wore and who was with who.” Diana settled back in her chair.

  I filled her in on the particulars of who’d been in attendance and what they’d worn. We had a laugh over Mona and Fluffy and their matching collars. I left out the part about Sam Gallanos and his dinner invitation. And my refusal. I didn’t need Diana giving me a hard time about my lack of a social life, too.

  Finally, I brought out my folder of Fur Ball details and Diana and I poured over what was left to be done. Ticket sales were going well but weren’t at the level where we’d wanted them. We needed a few more people to buy full tables for the ball.

  Once, we’d finished I had one more item on my agenda.

  “Diana, I had dinner with Kevin’s brother.”

  “You did?” She looked up from the Fur Ball notes. “I didn’t even know he had a brother.”

  “Seems none of us did.” I reached across and took her hand. “Diana, he mentioned the police told him you had purchased a Taser.”

  “That’s right.”

  She said it so matter-of-factly I wasn’t sure I’d heard her right.

  “Why would you need a Taser?”

  “Caro, I’m a woman alone. I don’t have staff who stay in the house.” She sat up and smoothed her jacket. “I’m not sure I could actually shoot a burglar, but I figured I could shock one.”

  “Was there some reason you were afraid?”

  “Not afraid, my dear. Just prepared.”

  “Is that what the police dug up in your garden?”

  “I didn’t bury my Taser. That would be silly. It wouldn’t do me much good buried in my roses now would it?”

  “Well, what did they dig up then?”

  “They said they got a phone call that the murder weapon was buried in my roses. And sure enough it was. But it wasn’t my Taser. I showed them I still have mine.”

  There was a commotion at the door, and then an older gentleman was ushered in by Lorraine (the one I’d originally labeled Gidget). This guy didn’t look like the usual reporter so I wondered what Diana was up to now.

  “Good afternoon, Diana, my dear.” He took her hand and kissed it.

  Gosh, a polite one, too.

  “Thank you for stopping by, Paul.” Diana said it like she was holding court in some elegant drawing room.
“Paul, this is my good friend, Carolina Montgomery Lamont. Caro, this is Paul Kantor. He’s my attorney.”

  “Of the Texas Montgomerys?” He reached out to shake my hand.

  “Yes, the Texas ones.” I shook his hand and tried not to hurt him.

  Oh, my Lord. This was her defense attorney? No wonder she was still sitting in jail. He seemed like a very nice man, and he certainly had extremely elegant manners, but I’m not sure he’d ever been in a jail cell before.

  He looked around as if taking it all in.

  “I’ll excuse myself so you two can talk strategy.” I gathered my papers. “You’re getting her out of here, aren’t you?”

  “I’d certainly like to do so, my dear. But our lovely Diana is insistent on staying put.”

  “Paul says they’ll probably reduce the charge from murder to manslaughter.” The terms rolled off her tongue like a she was detailing her grocery list, not talking about charges that could have her spending the rest of her life in prison.

  I looked at Paul, who seemed smitten with Diana, and wondered at her understanding of what I’m sure he’d painstakingly explained. “Then bail can be set?”

  The attorney nodded and started to explain, “Then—”

  But Diana interrupted. “Then I’ll have to plead guilty or not-guilty and they’ll set bail. But I don’t have to pay it, just because I can. I can not pay it and stay here.”

  I’d always felt Diana’s mind was as sharp as they come. But maybe we were dealing with the sudden onset of confusion brought on by all of this stress.

  “You have to be out in time for the Fur Ball,” I told her, my tone firm. “You can’t miss it.”

  “Well, I certainly hope to be there, Carolina, sweetie, but I can’t promise.” She smiled an unconcerned smile. “You’re doing fine. And you know, I think I’m doing more good for the cause here.”

  Great. She thought she was Joan of Arc and the dogs and cats were the French. I still couldn’t believe her flawed thinking in using the murder charges like a publicity stunt. I couldn’t argue with the results, however. The ticket sales were booming and donations to P.U.P (Protecting Unwanted Pets) had come in from all over the country. We even had a substantial donation come in from a lady in Australia who’d seen the story and was moved to contribute.

  Diana turned back to her attorney. “Now, Paul, I’ve been contacted by the national pet rescue group to serve as their spokeswoman, but I’d like you to look through the contract first before I send it on to my agent.”

  For Pete’s sake, the woman was a sharp cookie when it came to business, but a nut when it came to taking care of herself.

  I had to get her a different lawyer. A criminal lawyer. And I had to get her out of jail.

  I had to—or the police had to—find the real killer so Diana could go home.

  The day was filled with appointments with clients. I’d rescheduled Mona Michaels and her star dog, Fluffy, from the day Diana’d been arrested. Fluffy had her own bedroom, her own refrigerator, and her own daytime Emmy. As I’d figured, Mona was extremely offended I had inconvenienced her for something as trivial as Diana being arrested for murder. Unlike my other stops, she didn’t even want to know the horrid details. If it didn’t involve her, Mona simply wasn’t interested.

  I asked about Cliff and was rewarded with the information they were divorced and shared custody of Fluffy. It didn’t help me with what the notation “ck inv” had meant in Kevin’s book. As far as suspects go, I would love a reason to think it was Mona, but none came to light. Mona could kill your social status with one phone call, but as far as killing Kevin, she just didn’t seem to have a motive.

  My last house call of the day was in Ruby Point checking in with Sumner and Ginny and their Chow Chows. They’d been conscientious with their exercises and seemed to being doing well. Since I was in the vicinity, I stopped in again and checked on Diana’s menagerie. No worries there. Bella was doing a great job.

  As I pulled out from Diana’s drive, I noticed a car turn into Kevin’s. I slowed as I approached. A silver Jaguar sedan was parked next to the front hedge. The door swung open and J.T. got out.

  I pulled into the driveway. J.T. approached my car.

  I opened the door and stepped out. “Hi, how are you doing?”

  “I’m doing fine. How about you?” His expression was concerned.

  “I’ve got a lead on the landscaper I told you about. The one Kevin and I had the encounter with the day he died.” I didn’t know if Malone had talked to him about Kevin’s book, and it didn’t seem appropriate for me to bring it up if he hadn’t.

  “Thank you for continuing to try to find my brother’s killer. I know Kevin thought a lot of you.”

  “Did you find the item you were looking for?”

  “What item?” His voice was a little sharp.

  “The one you asked me about. You know, you asked if Kevin had given me something to keep.”

  “Oh, that.” He glanced around. “No, I’m still looking. If anyone mentions something Kevin left with them as you’re investigating, you’ll let me know, right?”

  “Sure . . . ” I waited for him to go on, but he didn’t. “It would help if I knew what the ‘something’ might be.”

  “Hard to say.” He smiled. “But let me know if you hear anything.”

  He turned from the car. “See you later, Caro.”

  “Bye.” I climbed in, put my car in gear, and backed out. As I turned toward home, I glanced at my cell phone. I’d missed a call from Detective Malone.

  Great. This was no time for phone tag.

  I found J.T.’s lack of transparency about what the heck he was looking for pretty irritating. I know, I know. I shouldn’t be too critical when it comes to being irrational about a family inheritance. But seriously. At least Mel and I knew what it was we were fighting over.

  Was this missing item so valuable that J.T. thought whoever had it might claim ownership? Or claim a finder’s fee? It was impossible to help him if I didn’t even know what it was that was missing. Seriously, his thinking was strange.

  As soon as I got home, I called Walt. He gave me the names of a few criminal attorneys. It was after office hours so I got voicemail or answering services. I left messages asking them to call me.

  Next, I called the jail and asked to talk to Diana. Gidget told me she was in the middle of a phone call with CNN. I hoped she’d held out for Anderson Cooper. Gidget promised to pass on my message about potential attorneys, and also let me know Diana was running low on avocados.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The next morning the headline in the Orange County Coastline Pilot, proclaimed: “I’m Innocent! Says Diana Knight—Just Like the Innocent Animals Who Are Put to Death Every Day.” There was a good picture of Diana and a great picture of Mr. Wiggles. How she’d smuggled him in for the photo shoot, I could only guess.

  I knew she missed him and her other fur kids. The article went on to talk about the need for spaying and neutering dogs and cats, and the overcrowding in animals shelters. Diana knew all the numbers by heart. This was her passion, and she’d found a very public soapbox.

  A national soapbox.

  A soapbox she wasn’t about to give up willingly. I was afraid even if the police found out who really killed Kevin Blackstone, Diana might insist on staying in jail.

  I left without breakfast, my newspaper tucked in my bag. I’d stop and pick up a coffee on the way to the office.

  My cell phone rang while I was in line at the Koffee Klatch. I saw from the number it was Mama and thought about letting it go to voicemail. But I am a grown woman, and I ought to be able to deal with talking to my own mother. (That was the lecture going on in my head.)

  I hit the button and took the call. “Hello, Mama.”

  Verdi, the burgundy-haired, multiply-pierced, barista behind the counter, mouthed, “Your usual?”

  I nodded ascent, glad Verdi was so sharp. She always seemed to remember what all of us regulars ordered.r />
  “Well, of course, I’m up. It’s nine o’clock in the morning here.”

  Which meant it was nearly lunchtime in Texas. Kat Lamont was good with numbers whenever she was figuring a discount at Neiman Marcus, the tip for her hair stylist, or a donation to her favorite charity, but she refused to keep straight the two-hour time difference between California and Texas.

  “I’m on my way to the office.”

  Mama Kat had made it absolutely clear she was not ready to acknowledge my pet therapy practice was a business by any stretch of the imagination. I might have been insulted, but she’d never really acknowledged that my family counseling practice was a business either. They were all things I was just doing for a while, until I saw the light and decided to take on all her charity work.

  Don’t get me wrong. The woman does good. And she’s good at it. But it’s not my calling.

  I handed some cash to Verdi, dropped a dollar in the tip jar, and took my hazelnut latte.

  I whispered, “thank you” to the girl as she handed over my change.

  “No, Mama. I haven’t been on a date lately.” I dropped the coins in my bag and closed it.

  Suddenly I noticed the silence.

  I looked around at a newly quiet Koffee Klatch. Many of the patrons smiled in amusement at my chagrin and then looked down, inordinately interested in their coffees and pastries.

  Great, now everyone in the place knew my social life was on the downhill slide. It was a small shop where no conversation was ever private unless you took it out to the sidewalk. Still, I hadn’t meant to broadcast my dateless status.

  I ducked out the door and headed back to the office, phone to my ear, responding every once in a while to Mama’s litany of gossip about Dallas society with an “uh-huh.”

  “I have a date for you.”

  “What?” That one got my attention.

  “A date?”

  “Oh, sweetheart, you are going to thank me for this.” She took a big deep breath, which I knew meant she was lying through her teeth. “He’s an attorney in Long Beach. With one of those investment banks, I’m afraid I can’t remember which one. Anyway, I gave him your phone number.”