Yappy Hour

by Diana Orgain

  The waiter looked from them to me and said, “Follow me,” as he hurried back into the restaurant. “We’re closed tonight,” he said by way of explanation for the empty dining room. He ushered me toward the kitchen. I’d been expecting red-checked tablecloths and used Chianti bottles with wax dripping down the sides as candleholders, but instead there were white linen tablecloths and crystal candleholders. There was even a hearth at the far side of the main dining room that looked like it doubled as a pizza oven.

  This was one fancy operation.

  No wonder Dan had heartburn about sharing the patio with The Wine and Bark.

  The kitchen was deserted.

  “I thought Gus was back here,” the waiter said. “Last night … our co-owner…” He glanced around the empty kitchen.

  “I know.”

  “Gus called all the staff in to let us know. We’re going to be closed this week. But I thought for sure he was still here. He was going to lock up after me.” He shrugged. “You can talk to him later. I don’t think the pool out there will be a problem tonight.”

  “Are you looking for me?” a voice called.

  “Ah, the office, of course!” the waiter said. He walked me out of the kitchen and pointed down a narrow corridor, where the men’s and ladies’ rooms were. Past the restrooms was a dimly lit little office.

  Gus was seated at an immaculate metal desk. On the desk was a computer, a black touch-tone phone, and a small tensor lamp. Several letters and spreadsheets were lit up in the spill from the lamp. There was a plush blue loveseat across from the desk.

  Gus had his hands folded behind his head, his eyes red rimmed and looking strained from sifting through the documents on the desk. He sprang to his feet when he saw me. “Maggie!”

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, Gus.” I explained to him about the paw-cassos and the baby pool. While I spoke, he surreptitiously slipped the papers into a folder and quietly slipped them into the top drawer of the desk.

  When I finished my explanation, he said, “It’s no problem, Maggie. We’re closed for the week. I gave my staff the time off. We all need to grieve.”

  What had he been looking at?

  I prayed it was nothing that would incriminate my sister.

  * * *

  By the time I returned to The Wine and Bark, the rehearsal was in full swing. Dogs were playing in the baby pool with chew toys and rubber duckies galore. A photographer had materialized out of nowhere and was taking multiple shots of the dogs in and out of the pool, wrapped in the Day-Glo towels with the Wine and Bark logo embroidered on them.

  There was a crowd around Mrs. Clemens, clamoring for paw-cassos. There were pitchers of mutt-tinis flowing, and even the arf d’oeuvres had made it to the tables. I hustled back into the bar to the relative safety of pouring muttgaritas. Max was tapping his foot along with the Howling Hounds and swinging around bottles of gin as if he were a pro. Thankfully, he seemed happy behind the bar.

  “I’m sorry to have abandoned you! I didn’t think I’d take so long. You’re a lifesaver.”

  He waved a hand around and grinned. “You can pay me in drinks.” He picked up a cocktail that was nestled next to the cash register and held it up in a toast.

  “I’m glad to see you’re already paying yourself.”

  “What’s your poison?” he asked.

  “Nothing today. I overindulged last night.”

  “I don’t blame you after the shock you had.” He shook his head. “It’s pretty spooky to think that someone was killed right here. Right under our noses.”

  A woman holding a white Pomeranian ordered a glass of pinot, and I was glad to only have to uncork the bottle and pour. My thoughts slipped back to Rachel. Could she be hiding out at Grunkly’s cabin? I hadn’t been there since I was a kid. There was no way his Cadillac could make the drive. I’d have to find another ride up there. And then there was the matter of my date with Brooks. I’d have to get up to Stag’s Leap and then back home by afternoon. It would mean an early departure.

  “Do you have a car, Max?”

  Max laughed. “I wish. Don’t really need one here, though. It’s such a small town.”

  “Yeah, I have to run an errand in the morning … I need a car.…”

  At that moment, Yolanda sashayed up to the bar, cradling Beepo in her hand. Beepo was wrapped in a Wine and Bark towel, and someone had managed to put a beret on his head, making him look absolutely ridiculous.

  “Maggie!” Yolanda screeched. “Everything is going smashingly well. Just divine!” She slurred, “Thank you so much for pulling it off. I had my doubts.” She leaned in close to me. “You know, after your … ehem … confession.” The last word she enunciated slowly. Certainly she was referring to my admitting that I wasn’t a doggie person.

  Beepo let out a string of half barks and yelps as if to agree with her.

  I glanced at Max, signaling him to cut Yolanda off. He nodded and filled a tumbler full of ice water for her. She frowned upon seeing it, but gulped it down nevertheless.

  Abigail joined her at the bar, her Shih Tzu, Missy, wearing a tiara this evening. She grabbed Beepo out of Yolanda’s hand. “Doesn’t he look like a prince with this little beret? I love it. I’m going to make them dance together. Maybe we’ll have a wedding soon!” she said over her shoulder to Yolanda as she strutted toward the stage and put the dogs down together.

  To her credit, Missy appeared to move her tail to the music, but Beepo was only concerned with freeing himself from the beret.

  “Is it always this wild?” I asked Max.

  He grimaced. “No. I must have poured a little heavy.”

  “Should I pop some more snacks in the oven to sober them up?”

  Shrugging, he said, “People usually go over to DelVecchio’s to eat if they get too lit. But they’re closed tonight, right?”

  I looked out the window across the patio to the darkened restaurant. It felt so disrespectful to have a bar full of people who were happy and dancing while they were dark.

  Max picked up our conversation where we’d left off. “So, you need a ride…?”

  Yolanda suddenly slammed a hand down on the bar. “Did you say you needed a ride somewhere?”

  I hesitated. The last thing in the world I wanted was to drive out to the country with the town busybody herself.

  “You’ve a car, right, Yo?” Max said.

  I stepped on his shoe and dug my heel into his toe. His head jerked in my direction, then he burst out laughing as he realized my dilemma.

  Brenda joined us at the bar. “Yolanda, are you okay?” she asked in hushed tone.

  “Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Yolanda fired back, her voice cracking.

  Brenda motioned Max for another cocktail, which he whipped up in short order. “Well, because I just heard about Geraldine.”

  Yolanda’s lips curled unnaturally into a snarl. “Oh that.” She flicked imaginary lint off her leather pants. “I don’t care about that.”

  “Who’s Geraldine?” I asked.

  “Shh,” Max warned too late.

  Yolanda’s nostrils flared. “Don’t even say her name!”

  I glanced from Max to Brenda. Brenda put an arm around Yolanda. “It’s okay, honey.”

  “I’m glad that her poodle is up for best in show,” Yolanda said. “I’m glad about it, really,” she insisted a little too loudly; only her expression, that of a crazy woman, gave her away.

  Abigail, who couldn’t see Yolanda’s face, joined us from behind. “Oh me, too! I’m so excited about Geraldine. A group of us are going to Carmel in the morning to support her. You’ll come, won’t you, Yolanda?”

  Yolanda suddenly developed an eye twitch.

  An idea began to take shape. If I could convince Yolanda to take me to Stag’s Leap, then I could grill her about Dan’s murder. After all, she had been standing over poor Dan’s dead body. Did she have a motive for wanting him dead?

  “Actually, Yolanda, I have to run an important errand tomorrow … b
ut I don’t have a car … I was hoping you could give me a ride,” I said.

  Max flashed me an approving glance.

  Yolanda twirled a strand of her blond hair in her hand. “I’ll take you wherever you want to go. It’s the least thing I can do after all you’ve done for us. Please! I have to thank you for pulling this off.” She gestured around the bar. “And I have to tell you about next weekend. I’m going to ask a videographer to join us and also a social media consultant. She’ll be tweeting real time during the auction, and then we can post the videos on the web for donations afterward.”

  A videographer, social media consultant, and an auction?

  Oh my lord. What had I gotten myself into?

  I felt faint. Rachel had to be back for next weekend, there was no way I’d manage to pull it off by myself.

  “Uh. I need to look for Rachel. My uncle mentioned she might be at his cabin—”

  Yolanda’s eyes grew wide. “Stag’s Leap?”

  I nodded.

  She clapped her hands like a child. “Oh goodie! I’ve always wanted to go to Stag’s Leap. Let’s leave first thing in the morning!”

  Chapter Twelve

  Yolanda turned up at my apartment at 8:00 A.M. sharp. She drove a flashy red convertible and leaned on the horn until I came out, not caring if she disrupted the entire sleepy neighborhood. Beepo lounged in the passenger seat, a jaunty bandana tied around his neck. He growled when he saw me.

  A strand of Yolanda’s blond hair escaped from under a bright polka-dotted scarf that matched her skintight skirt. She wore large gold-rimmed sunglasses and aviator gloves. All that was missing to make it a complete Hollywood scene was to have Beepo in sunglasses.

  I wore regular jeans and a navy tank top. Yolanda’s lip curled up slightly to match Beepo’s growl upon seeing me look so plainly boring.

  She was sipping a coffee drink from a paper cup. She motioned to the cup holders and said, “I got a latte for you for the road.”

  “Thank you,” I said, climbing into the passenger seat. Beepo barked madly at being upended.

  “Hush, Beepo!” Yolanda scowled.

  He stopped barking and scampered onto my lap.

  “Uh … I don’t think…”

  Yolanda put the convertible in reverse and gunned it out of my apartment house driveway.

  Wait!

  Was I expected to ride the entire two hours with the dog in my lap?

  Beepo dug his little talons into my leg and stuck his tongue out, wagging as the wind ruffled his fur.

  Oh, whatever. I suppose it was going to be a choose-your-battles type of day. Now I was glad that I’d worn simple jeans.

  “Should I take 101 or the Coast?” Yolanda asked.

  “Either way, just head south for about an hour, then we’ll head inland.”

  “I’ll take the coast,” she said. “Beepo loves looking at the ocean.”

  Really? How did she know?

  “So, you’ve never been to Stag’s Leap?” I asked.

  “No,” Yolanda said. “But Rachel’s talked about it so many times, I feel like I have. High windows overlooking the lake, stone fireplace, huge canopy bed.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me, which made me wonder just what type of encounters Rachel had had up at the lake house in recent history.

  “I have to warn you, I have no idea what kind of condition it’ll be in. My uncle’s not the best housekeeper as is, and no one that I know of has been out there in ages. Has Rachel been up there recently, do you know?”

  Yolanda shrugged a shoulder, then waved her hand around as if to dismiss the question. “Don’t worry. I’m up for an adventure.”

  I studied her for a moment: her nose, straight and narrow; sunglasses perched covering her catlike eyes; more blond curly hair escaping the scarf and waving in the wind. “Not such a dramatic adventure as that other night, I hope.”

  She clasped a hand over her heart. “Goodness, no. That was truly awful. Poor Dan. I can’t think the police would dare think Rachel has anything to do with it, though.”

  I took a deep breath. I certainly hoped that was the case.

  “So who’s this Geraldine and what’s so bad about her dog winning best in show?”

  Beepo howled as if possessed.

  “Geraldine is a long story. But suffice it to say, thank you for getting me out of that one. I know you really didn’t want to hang out with me today.”

  Guilt flashed through me, but before I could respond she grabbed her smartphone out of the middle console and handed it to me. “Here, see if you can find any good road trip tunes.”

  I scrolled through the music selection on the phone as best I could with Beepo jockeying for position on my lap.

  “Just hit play when you find something you like; I have the stereo hooked up through Bluetooth.”

  I found some Diana Ross and hit PLAY. The music magically filled the car and Beepo howled alongside the tunes.

  Yolanda began to warble and croon alongside them. I sipped my latte and prayed for no traffic on the expressway. The faster I got out of the car, the better.

  After a while, we arrived at our exit. We left the freeway for a single-lane highway that meandered through the mountains. Being here brought back childhood memories of when my parents were still alive.

  “You’re quiet,” Yolanda said.

  “Lotta ghosts in these parts.”

  Yolanda sighed. “Well, I envy you that. Having the memories. I don’t have any fond memories of my childhood. It was always one ratty trailer park or another.”

  “You grew up in a trailer park?”

  She gave me a sideways glance. “Why does that surprise you?”

  “Because you’re so refined and delicate.”

  She laughed. “Refined? Oh my momma would split a stitch hearing that. But thank you. I do my best to leave the past right where it is, thank you very much.”

  Beepo must have sensed her discomfort because he hopped from my lap to hers. She stroked his triangle ears as she drove, the large aviator gloves covering almost his entire head. She slowed the car as we approached a fork in the road.

  “Go left here,” I said. “It’s a little farther.”

  We took the left turn onto a dirt road. The road was so rugged with grooves and dips that I feared we’d get stuck. Just what exactly would I do if I was stuck out in the middle of nowhere with Yolanda and Beepo?

  I glanced nervously at my mobile to make sure I had cell phone coverage.

  “Are you checking messages?” Yolanda asked. “Any news from Rach?”

  I suddenly felt guilty that while I was planning my escape from Yolanda, she was thinking about my harebrained sister.

  “Unfortunately, no messages,” I said.

  “We need a Jeep to get through this muck,” Yolanda said. “I bet that sexy Officer Brooks drives a Jeep in his downtime, whatdya think? Or is he a F-150 kind of guy?” She glanced at me and I felt my cheeks grow hot.

  She laughed. “Are you blushing?”

  “No!” I said too quickly.

  “He’s a tall drink of water, ain’t he?”

  My throat went dry as I considered that Yolanda and I might be in competition for the same man.

  “He’s seems nice,” I said nonchalantly. “Are you interested in him?”

  “Interested in him?” Yolanda hooted. “Good heavens no! Besides, don’t you have a date with him today?”

  How did she know?

  She giggled at my surprise. “Anyway, don’t worry about it. I have my sights set on a bigger prize.”

  “Really?”

  She sighed, and even though I couldn’t see her eyes, I imagined she got a dreamy look in them from her tone. “I think Officer Gottlieb is the cat’s meow.”

  Beepo snarled and jumped back into my lap.

  Yolanda laughed. “I didn’t mean anything by that, honey.”

  “Gottlieb, eh?” I asked.

  She nodded. “I go right for the top. The man in charge. And he’s bald. Isn’t th
at so sexy?”

  I laughed, and when she glared at me, I sat up straighter. For no reason other than to prove she could trust me with her crushes.

  Yolanda was interested in Sergeant Gottlieb, eh?

  I had a hard time imagining the two of them as a couple. From the limited impression I’d gotten from Gottlieb, he was a serious man. And Yolanda seemed so flighty.…

  Could getting on the sergeant’s good side influence an investigation? I suddenly questioned Yolanda’s motivation. What kind of statement had she given him about finding Dan?

  My fingers traced Beepo’s paw; he yanked it out from under me and jumped to the backseat.

  I worked my lip, wondered about the best way to broach the subject. Finally, I decided to just come right out and ask. “Yolanda, how did you get into The Wine and Bark on Friday?”

  “What do you mean? I came in through the back.”

  “Was it unlocked? Or do you have a key?”

  “Oh no. I don’t have a key. I’ve been bugging Rachel for one for ages. I want to rent the storage space from her. I have a bag business. I design high-end purses and my business is growing so much I need a streetfront space. Window display, the works. I have some at Designer Duds … have you seen my handbags?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” The only bag I remembered seeing was a ridiculous bright yellow and orange purse in the shape of a chicken.

  “Well, Evie rents the side I’d like for storage,” Yolanda continued. “I’ve been trying to convince her to switch to the other side, but that’s where Rachel stores the bar stuff … inventory and things like that. Evie is totally stubborn and unreasonable. Anyway, the back door was unlocked on Friday. I didn’t think anything of it, because it was almost time for Yappy Hour. I just figured Rachel had got there early to set up, like she always does.”

  We took a few more turns; the foliage became thick and deep, the scent of pines overwhelming.

  Yolanda took a big sniff. “Smell that, Beepo honey? That’s what I call gen-u-ine woody smell.” She glanced at me. “Those fragrant candles just aren’t the same!”

  There was a clearing up ahead, where the road plateaued into a view of the lake. “Pull over up here and we can see the valley,” I said.