Double Dog Dare (The Raine Stockton Dog Mystery Series)

by Ball, Donna

  As though I would really trust Cisco to a dog-walker who had already lost one golden retriever. I smiled anyway, and said, “Thanks, but she’s right. I might take you up on the grooming services, though. And I really loved the way you set up Cisco’s room. That was a nice touch.”

  He smiled briefly, and suddenly seemed in a hurry to get going. “Well, it was nice to see you all. You too, Cisco.” He gave Cisco a perfunctory scratch behind the ears and Cisco grinned up at him. “Just call the number on the card if there’s anything we can do for you. Bye now.”

  He hurried down the path to the front drive, and Rita waited until he was out of earshot to observe, “California. He’s definitely from California.”

  I poured myself a glass of lemonade and regaled Rita with the details of our afternoon while Melanie scrolled through a list of entries about Rachelle Denison on her electronic tablet, occasionally speaking up to apprise us of some particularly salient piece of information, like how many stars her last two movies had gotten—more than the first two—and how much money she had purportedly been paid for signing for the new one, which was less than I imagined, although still more than a dog trainer could expect to make in multiple lifetimes.

  “She’s twenty-nine years old,” Melanie reported, “but not for long. Her birthday is tomorrow. Hey, here it is, on Entertainment News.”

  Melanie turned the tablet around so that we could see the video of the press conference I’d just attended. It was clearly unedited footage and the report was brief; I was sure they would have a much more polished version by air time on the national news.

  “She certainly does look cool and collected,” observed Rita. “But her husband doesn’t look particularly pleased, does he?”

  “I think he’s supposed to be looking stunned.”

  “He’s doing a pretty good job of it, for someone who isn’t a professional.”

  “The only thing I wish is that she had hung around long enough for some reporter to ask how she had time to get her nails done.”

  Rita chuckled at that and sat back, reaching for a canapé. “What I don’t understand,” she added in a moment, frowning thoughtfully, “is why someone would report seeing a body being tossed overboard, if there was no body to dispose of.”

  “People get a little hysterical when something like this happens,” I said with a shrug. “They see things that were never really there at all, or the things they thought were perfectly innocent at the time suddenly look ominous. Maybe it was a fisherman throwing back a catch, or tossing out garbage illegally.”

  “Or something else illegal,” volunteered Melanie helpfully, “like a bale of marijuana or maybe even a cargo box filled with cocaine.”

  Melanie’s current ambition was to join the DEA and train drug-detection dogs. It was an ambition I knew Miles did not like to encourage, but apparently her grandmother had not received the same memo.

  “That’s an awful lot of cocaine,” Rita said. “What kind of self-respecting drug dealer would toss that much money overboard?”

  “Oh, he wouldn’t be tossing it,” Melanie countered, warming to her theory. “He would be stashing it for his partner to come pick it up in one of those fast little cigarette boats and run it to Miami. We’re right on the drug route, you know.”

  “I didn’t know that,” I said, intrigued.

  “Oh, sure. Bogotá, the Philippines, Miami. Isn’t that right, Dad?”

  Of course Miles had chosen that moment to join us. He had changed to his beach clothes, and I could tell by the expression on his face that the last thing he wanted to talk about was the drug trade.

  “Geography,” I tried to cover quickly. “We were just talking about the geography of the western Caribbean.”

  Cisco, who had planted himself hopefully between Melanie and me, watching for dropped snacks, bounced over to greet Miles. Miles bent to pet him, giving me a skeptical, “Hmm-mmm.”

  “And also about Rachelle Denison,” supplied Melanie helpfully. “We think she’s a total phony.”

  “I wouldn’t disagree with you there, sweetheart.” He straightened up, took a shrimp from the chilled bowl on the table, and fed it to Cisco. Cisco gobbled it down and looked at him worshipfully.

  “Hey!” I objected.

  He tilted a raised eyebrow at me. “Vacation,” he reminded me.

  “Hey Dad, want to see Cisco’s new trick?”

  “Can’t think of anything I’d rather do.”

  Melanie scrambled to her feet, took her stance, and this time when she commanded, “High five!” Cisco struck her palm with perfect precision. We all laughed and applauded, and Miles gave him another shrimp. What dog wouldn’t like that game? Melanie tried it three more times, with three more shrimp, until I complained, only half joking, “Save some for me, will you?”

  Miles grinned, wiped his hands on a paper napkin, and said, “Okay guys, let’s take a break. Speaking of shrimp, where would you ladies like to go for dinner?”

  “Oh dear,” his mother said. “I thought you and Raine had plans, so I called the concierge service to bring dinner for Melanie and me.”

  “Spaghetti from Embargo,” Melanie added, “the best in the world.” She looked at her grandmother hopefully. “You could order more.”

  Miles glanced at me ruefully. “Actually, I did have a plan, and it sounded great this morning. I thought you might enjoy a sunset dinner on the reef, but given that we’ve just spent the entire afternoon listening to stories about deadly diving accidents on the reef…” He shrugged. “Maybe not such a fun way to spend the evening after all.”

  But I was interested. “Do you mean the same reef where Alex and Rachelle went diving?”

  His tone was guarded. “That’s the one.”

  “Are you planning to push me overboard?”

  “That depends. Are you planning to talk about Rachelle Denison all night?”

  I grinned. “I’m a strong swimmer. And you’ve got a dinner date.”

  ~*~

  Melanie and Miles went down to the beach for another paddle board lesson, but I was content to settle in the shade with Cisco and Rita, the platter of goodies within reach and a glass of white wine in hand. I am really more of a beer girl, but when in Rome, I suppose. I gave Cisco one of the deer antlers, and he crunched it up in no time flat, looked at me hopefully for another, then settled under my chair with a huge disappointed sigh when he saw nothing more was forthcoming. I could feel his watchful eyes, though, waiting for a dropped cracker or another tasty shrimp.

  Rita said, “I hope you don’t feel you have to sit here with me, Raine. If you’d rather go to the beach…”

  “Miles and Melanie need some father-daughter time,” I said, stretching out in the lounge chair and kicking off my sandals. “And I could use the rest.” And then I glanced at her quickly. “But don’t let me keep you here. If you’d rather be doing something else…”

  She laughed, acknowledging the mild awkwardness of two people who didn’t know each other very well trying to be nice. I grinned back, and the silence that fell between us was easier this time. She sipped her wine and I stretched my toes out to the sun and enjoyed the ocean breeze. In a moment, I said, “Do you mind if I ask you about Susan?”

  “Not at all.” She seemed unsurprised and unconcerned. “But I’m afraid I can’t tell you very much. To be perfectly honest, I only met her once before the wedding.” She frowned a little, thoughtfully. “She was an odd type. Nice enough, but I don’t know, reserved. Very ambitious. Of course, Miles is ambitious too, which should have made them well suited, I guess, but sometimes it doesn’t work that way. I can’t really explain it, but I always had a peculiar feeling about her. It just seemed like a strange match to me, and I remember thinking at the time…” She glanced at me with an expression of rueful apology in her eyes. “It’s awful of me, I know, but I remember thinking at the wedding that I’d be surprised if the marriage lasted until Christmas. And I was right. It didn’t.”

  “Was it a b
itter divorce?”

  “Not at all, at least as far as I knew. Miles never talked about it much. He seemed… I don’t know. Embarrassed about the whole thing. He doesn’t usually make impulsive decisions, and I suppose he doesn’t like to be reminded about the impulsive marriage that didn’t work out.”

  “Do you think…” I ventured a careful look at her, worried I was about to go too far, “do you think he might still have feelings for her?”

  She gave a startled laugh. “Oh my, I shouldn’t think so. In fact, I’m sure of it. As for how she might feel about him, on the other hand…” She shrugged. “It was odd, don’t you think, that she should come to Miles to help her brother out of trouble?”

  I gave a decisive nod of agreement. “I do think so. But even odder that Miles was actually willing to do it.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.” She sipped her wine, unconcerned. “That actually makes a bit more sense to me.”

  “That he would loan money to an ex-wife and a man he doesn’t trust?”

  She chuckled. “That he would want to keep his options open. I would have been very surprised if he hadn’t at least followed up. He’s naturally curious.” She smiled at me. “Like you.”

  I blushed a little. “I guess I really shouldn’t be grilling you about your son behind his back.”

  She waved a dismissive hand. An emerald glittered on her finger and I knew without asking that it had been a gift from Miles. “He left us alone together. What else should he expect?”

  I laughed, and knew she was right. Miles rarely did anything without being fully aware of the consequences.

  She dipped a shrimp in cocktail sauce, guarding her white shirt with a paper napkin. “Miles tells me you were married to a policeman.”

  So now it was my turn. I nodded. “And my uncle was the sheriff for thirty years before that. I guess that’s why I tend to ask too many questions.”

  “There’s no such thing as too many questions,” she replied, “as long as you’re asking the right ones.”

  I ventured a small, puzzled smile. “Funny. That sounds like something my father used to say. He was a judge.”

  “Yes.” Her eyes twinkled, and she reminded me very much of her son at that moment. “Miles mentioned you come from an impressive family of defenders of the law.”

  I tried to smile but it felt uncomfortable and sad. “I used to think so.” I looked for a moment at my barely touched glass of wine. Then, without knowing I was going to say anything at all, I added, “When my father died he was the most respected man in the county, maybe even in the state. The governor came to his funeral. He had the kind of reputation on the bench that made you think the words ‘honest’ and ‘fair’ had been invented to describe his courtroom. But it turns out he let an innocent man go to prison to cover up his own adultery, and in the process he broke so many laws and betrayed so many people I can’t even count them all. It kind of makes you wonder what you can believe in after that, you know?”

  I glanced at Rita, but she said nothing. She didn’t pretend to understand, or make meaningless sympathetic noises. She just waited for the rest of the story. I figured I might as well tell it.

  “The worst part was,” I said, “that the woman he was having an affair with all those years—the one he was covering up—was my mother’s best friend. No,” I corrected myself in a sharp, tight voice, “the worst part was that she was my best friend. She was at our table every Sunday and every holiday since I was a little girl. She gave me my first golden retriever. She stood up for me at my wedding. After Mother died, she was the one I went to with all my problems, and all the good things too. It was her idea to start the kennel business, not mine, and she taught me everything I know about dogs. We worked together, we trained together, we traveled together. I told her everything. And all the time she was keeping this secret from me. This huge, ugly secret.” I took a sip of the wine, but it tasted sour in my mouth. I put the glass on the table. “You know what’s funny is that I can’t imagine what my life would have been like without her. I mean, every part of it is connected to her in one way or another, and now when I look back, it feels like my whole life was just a lie.”

  Rita said, “How did you find out?”

  I shrugged uncomfortably. “She told me, a few weeks back. She never would have said anything at all if it hadn’t been about to come out in a police investigation. I don’t know. Maybe I would have been better off if she hadn’t.”

  “That must have been a horrible conversation to have. What do you say to a confession like that?”

  I picked up my glass, and put it down again. “I think I said, ‘Get out of my house’. She did, and that was it. Everything else was just paperwork.” Again I shrugged. “She called a couple of times before she moved to Florida, but I just deleted the messages without listening to them.”

  Rita sipped her wine quietly, gazing out over the pool and the ocean beyond. Cisco snored softly under my chair. She said after a moment, “You know Miles’s father was an alcoholic. It’s dreadful, living with that disease. For years after he died I wouldn’t allow alcohol in the house, or even go to parties where it was served. And then one day it struck me. The man with the drinking problem was dead and gone, but he was still controlling me. His mistakes were defining my life, not my own.” She smiled. “It turns out I enjoy a glass of wine now and then, and I like going to Christmas parties where eggnog is served. It’s a small thing, I know, but it’s a shame to miss out on even one small thing because of someone else’s problem. Something that didn’t even have anything to do with you.”

  She looked at me. “What your father did was despicable, Raine. And as for your friend—in some ways that was even worse. I don’t know if you can forgive them for it. But it’s worth trying, because you’re not doing it for them. You’re doing it for you.”

  I said, “Has Miles ever forgiven his father?”

  She lifted her glass again. “I don’t think so. Instead, he buys me diamonds and beach houses, and although there’s definitely something to be said for that...” The flash of her smile had an undertone of regret to it, like the sour taste that lay beneath the brightness of my wine. “What he’s really doing is trying to rewrite the past. And that’s pointless, isn’t it? All you can do is to treasure the good things, and learn to live with the rest.”

  Cisco stirred beneath my chair, stretching forth his front legs and yawning broadly before crawling out. He shook himself, spraying tiny motes of gold-dusted hair into the air, and turned to me with a happy, tail-waving grin that spoke of nothing but his joy at seeing me again. I couldn’t help grinning back as I dropped my hand to his head, massaging his ear. He was definitely one of the good things.

  I helped myself to a shrimp from the platter, then served one to my dog. He gulped it down ecstatically and then sniffed the deck for dropped crumbs. “So,” I said, picking up my wine again, “what do you suppose one wears to have a sunset dinner on a sailboat in the Caribbean?”

  ~*~

  NINE

  Don’t get me wrong. I’m as romantic as the next girl, and Miles, if I haven’t mentioned it already, is one sexy guy, particularly the way he looked that night in jeans and a silver silk shirt that was the exact color of his eyes. But by the time we parked at the marina that evening, I wasn’t thinking as much about lobster and champagne under the stars as I was about tides and currents and how far the reef really was from shore, and what might have inspired Rachelle Denison to make up such an outrageous story. That is just the way my mind works. I would be going home in a few days to my dogs and my kennel and my mostly ordinary life, but this incident was likely to be referenced more than once between now and the time Rachelle’s new movie came out. It would be fun to be able to say I had actually been to the place where the whole thing started.

  The sun sets late in the Caribbean, and by the time we left the house, Melanie, Rita, and Cisco had already had their dinner and were preparing for one last walk on the beach before settling dow
n to watch a movie on television. The azure sky was overlaid with a faint trace of pink clouds as we walked down the dock, and the breeze was warm and salty, ruffling through my hair pleasantly. Miles looked tanned and relaxed and he smelled of Polo, which had recently become my favorite scent. He held my hand. A few of the dogs who had greeted Cisco so enthusiastically during the day peered over their rails to watch us pass, but we didn’t stir up nearly as much excitement without Cisco along. In the distance, some poor dog whose owners had locked him in the cabin while they went to dinner barked the bark of the lonely and the bored.

  I said, “I should call Melanie and remind her to keep Cisco on leash if they’re going to the beach.”

  “You reminded her twice. You also reminded Mom. She’ll think you don’t trust her.”

  “I trust Melanie fine. It’s Cisco I’m a little iffy on.”

  Miles put his arm around my waist and drew me close, hip to hip. “Do you know why I brought you here?”

  “For a vacation?’

  “Right. And what do you suppose people go on vacation to do?”

  I pretended to think about that. “Relax?”

  “Wrong., People go on vacation to be, for a few days, somebody they don’t get to be the rest of the year.”

  “And what do you want me to be?” I teased him, bumping his shoulder playfully with mine. “Tall, blond and leggy?’

  He threaded his fingers briefly through my tangle of curls which were, in fact, beginning to take on a blond tinge, then let his fingers rest upon my neck, caressing. “I prefer mid-sized brunettes, and I like your legs the way they are. This is what I want you to be.”

  He surprised me by taking out his phone and turning it toward me. A picture of me, holding up a blue ribbon with Cisco by my side, filled the screen. I had never looked worse—tangled hair held back by a baseball cap, no makeup, sweaty, bloody and bruised, grinning like a banshee. Instinctively I put my hand out to cover the screen. “Miles! I can’t believe you kept that picture.”