The Girl With the Dachshund Tattoo

by Sparkle Abbey

  Her taste in cop shows was no surprise to any of us.

  Malone changed the topic back to his original question. “Is Gia correct? Do you have an item that belongs to her?”

  My grip on the bottle tightened for an instant before I reluctantly extended the potential evidence in his direction. “This.”

  “We’re taking it to Dr. Darling.” Betty glared in Gia’s direction.

  Malone tried to take it from my hand, but I couldn’t let go. He raised an eyebrow. “Thank you,” he deadpanned.

  I release my hold. Dang, dang, dang. I wanted to take it to Daniel. I had questions that only he could answer. Like would caffeine actually make the dog run faster? If so, how much caffeine would a dog need to ingest? How much was too much caffeine for a dog?

  As I had done minutes earlier, he unscrewed the cap and smelled the contents. He cast a sideways glance in my direction.

  “I’m pretty sure it’s an energy drink. I saw Gia behind a tent, pouring the contents into Zippy’s special bowl. If that’s an energy drink, Lenny’s accusation, as obnoxious as he is, was accurate—the Eriksens were most likely juicing their dog. We were on our way to see Daniel.”

  “In other words, they’re cheaters,” Betty spit out.

  Malone recapped the bottle. “Wait here.”

  He stalked away toward Gia, his boots crushed the grass, leaving behind determined footprints. He asked her a few questions. She nodded vigorously and reached for the bottle. Malone pulled it out of her reach. He called one of his uniform officers over, spouted orders as he pointed at Gia, then returned to where we waited.

  “I’ll have someone deliver this to Dr. Darling,” he said as he approached.

  “We’d be happy to do that for you,” I offered.

  “I’d rather you find Zippy and take him to the onsite clinic so he can be tested. If this is what we think, the dog should have a complete examination.”

  “The last time we saw him, he was racing toward the track. Luis and his dog, Barney, went after him. I’m not sure if they caught him or not.”

  “Zippy ran like he had wings,” Betty interjected. “A true champion.”

  “Or hopped up on caffeine.” Mr. TV jotted down a couple of thoughts on his notepad. “How much caffeine does it takes to affect a canine?”

  Malone’s voice was tight. “This is not a formal interview. Understand?”

  MacAvoy nodded and put away his notepad.

  “I will make sure this reaches Dr. Darling. Anything else you want to tell me?” Malone asked me.

  I tilted my head toward MacAvoy and Grey. Malone understood my unspoken request and motioned for me to follow him to an open grassy area a short distance away. I kept my back to MacAvoy, not sure if he could read lips.

  I could feel three sets of curious eyes on us. I was sure they were talking about us too. Except for Grey. He’d keep his comments to himself. Hopefully he’d manage to keep Betty from jumping MacAvoy. She did like men.

  “Thanks. I don’t trust the reporter,” I said.

  “Keeping your enemies close?”

  “Something like that.”

  “That doesn’t explain why you don’t want to talk in front of your fiancé.”

  I shrugged. “He’ll tell me to stay out of it.”

  He actually smiled. “Sounds like good advice.”

  “Do you want to know what I learned or not?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t seem to have a choice. Go ahead.”

  “Sven, at the Koffee Klatch, told me about a gambling ring here, behind the chili truck. When Gia was at my shop earlier today, she tried to buy out the store, which I thought was great. Until I ran her credit cards. Both were denied. She’s obviously having some type of financial issues. And by now you know all about the affair between Fallon and Richard.”

  “Tell me about this rumored gambling ring.”

  I ignored his request. I was on a roll. “Here’s my working theory. If the Eriksens were doping Zippy, which we now know is likely, it’s possible they could have been betting on him in order to make money. I admit, it’s a stretch, but possible. What if what Fallon said was true, Richard planned to leave his wife for Fallon? MacAvoy said Fallon told the filmmaker Richard intended to retire Zippy after this event. If he took the dog, Gia would run out of money in a hurry.”

  “That’s a lot of what-ifs.” His eyes narrowed. “Let’s go back to the gambling ring. Did Sven tell you that the Eriksens were placing bets?”

  My mouth disengaged long enough for me to realize that I may have gotten poor Sven into trouble. “No.”

  “Did you see either of them by the chili truck?”

  I shook my head, nervous the conversation wasn’t proceeding the way I’d imagined.

  “Have you seen anyone placing a bet?”

  I inhaled deeply, unsure how to answer his question. “Not exactly,” I hedged.

  “What does that mean?”

  I pushed my lips together and chose my words carefully as to not mention Betty’s new pastime. “Sven asked me to put twenty dollars on Pickles. I went to the chili truck, but Rodney, the bookie, wasn’t there.”

  “You’re admitting to placing an illegal bet?”

  I stumbled over my words, “No—I didn’t think—I mean.” I took a breath and started over. “I did not place a bet. But I did go to the truck to verify Sven’s story.”

  “When was that?”

  “Around one o’clock. Maybe a little before that.”

  He was silent for a full minute as he mulled over what I’d told him. “Did Gia tell you she had money problems?”

  “No, but in my retail experience, the only other time I’ve had to retain a customer’s credit card, he was bankrupt and later arrested for fraud. We both know people have killed for a lot less than that.”

  We stared at Gia for a minute. She glared back at us.

  “What are the odds that she or Richard owns a gun?” I asked.

  “Pretty damn good. Richard bought a 9mm Beretta two years ago. He reported the firearm stolen last month.”

  Hells bells.

  Chapter Twenty

  I WAS STILL REELING from the knowledge that Richard had owned a gun and had reported it missing. After my talk with Malone, I felt confident Gia would be uncovered as the killer, clearing Betty of all suspicion.

  I returned to Grey, Betty, and Mr. TV with a spring in my step and a reassured smile on my face. They had waited exactly where I’d left them. I take that back. Not exactly as I’d left them.

  Grey had drifted a few feet back from the others. His blue eyes sparked with amusement as he watched Betty hit on MacAvoy. She’d managed to link her arm with her favorite noon reporter, showing him the stains on her T-shirt and, I suspected, inadvertently her cleavage.

  I felt a twinge of guilt at the pained expression on Mr. TV’s face. Leaving Betty alone with two good-looking men had been a lack of forethought on my part. I rejoined the group with an apologetic glance at MacAvoy and shrugged. Betty was Betty.

  He tilted his head toward the older woman glued to his side and mouthed, “Help me.”

  “Cookie, you’re back. Me and Stud Muffin were about to grab a corn dog.” She batted her eyes at her captive.

  Who would have thought I’d feel sorry for Mr. TV?

  “Cut him loose. We’ll grab some food for you in a minute.”

  “Thank you.” MacAvoy flashed me a grateful smile. “Does this mean I owe you one?” He tugged at his blazer sleeves, which had bunched around his elbows.

  “I’d rather you not owe me anything.”

  Grey rejoined the group as well, and within seconds, I was peppered with questions from all of them.

  What did I need to talk to Malone about in private? (Grey)

  Did the police have any new suspects? (Mr. TV.)

  Were they close to an arrest? (Also Mr. TV)

  Did he have dinner plans? (Goes without saying—Betty)

  “Malone and I didn’t talk about his dinner plans.
Nor did he name suspects or suggest there would be a pending arrest.” I studied Mr. TV with narrowed eyes. He grinned in return, enjoying my scrutiny.

  He knew there had never been a restraining order. Did he know about Richard’s gun? If he was as good of a reporter as he claimed, I had to believe he knew. The urge to ask him about the gun was powerful, but on the off chance he didn’t know about it, I wasn’t willing to violate Malone’s confidence.

  So instead of asking him about the gun, I asked, “Who do you think killed Richard Eriksen?”

  “Gee, now you want my opinion?”

  I really wanted to erase that nettlesome smirk off his face. “A moment of weakness. It won’t happen again.”

  “You want suspects other than Gia and Fallon?”

  I sighed, already tired of his buildup. I vowed I would never ask for his opinion again. “Obviously.”

  He lobbed an accusatory looked in Betty’s direction.

  “Me?” She placed a bruised hand over her heart. “I’m offended you consider me a suspect.”

  “You threatened the victim with a gun.”

  “I was protecting myself,” she corrected him.

  “Had you actually talked to her before you broadcasted that salacious tidbit, you’d know Betty felt threatened by Richard,” I argued, inching closer to him. “She didn’t kill anyone.”

  “It was a fact. Just because it doesn’t fit neatly into your explanation of events doesn’t mean I shouldn’t report on it,” he countered, his voice tinged with righteous conviction.

  “It was sensational and meant to drive ratings.” Pangs of indignation bubbled inside of me.

  “That’s my job,” he said. “I’m sorry if that offends your misguided sensibilities.”

  I could feel my blood pressure rise at his criticism. He didn’t know anything about me. I felt Grey’s hand on my shoulder. I breathed through my nose and counted to five.

  “So your prime suspect is a senior citizen?” Grey asked dryly.

  “Melinda didn’t let me finish,” Mr. TV said.

  “Cookie is easily excited. I’ve changed my mind. I’m flattered you think I’m dangerous. I accept your dinner invitation.” She leered.

  His brows furrowed. “Um, I don’t believe I asked you to dinner.”

  I enjoyed watching him squirm for once.

  “You will.” Betty shimmied side to side. “You haven’t seen me decked out in my sexy outfit.”

  I pulled her next to me giving MacAvoy breathing room. “I want to know what he thinks. You can scare him off later.”

  Mr. TV eyed Grey. “Are you sure you want to talk about this now?”

  Confused as to why he’d be suspicious of Grey, I edged closer to my fiancé. Certainly he didn’t think Grey was a killer? “Why wouldn’t I?”

  He shrugged as if to say it was my funeral. He pulled out his notebook and flipped the pages. “As you wish. Hagan Stone—”

  “Whoa.” I waved my hands to stop him. “Are you serious? Why him?” I didn’t see that coming. I mean, Lenny I would have understood, but Hagan?

  Grey crossed his arms, his posture rigid as he studied MacAvoy. “I’m curious to hear that myself.”

  “I’m sure you are.” His flat tone surprised me. After a tight smile aimed at Grey, he continued. “Gia and Richard argued with Hagan yesterday about not paying the entrance fee. Their check had bounced. That was a revelation to Richard, which started an argument about money between him and Gia. In the middle of their argument, Richard announced their marriage was over.”

  “How do you know this?” Grey asked.

  MacAvoy thumped his notebook. “I overheard them.”

  I could easily imagine, lurking in the shadows with his voice recorder, capturing the whole sordid affair. Apparently, his job was to overstate facts and to eavesdrop on conversations that didn’t involve him. Not that I was in any position to point fingers on the latter. I’d been known to listen to a conversation or two that didn’t include me. How else did you find out what people were thinking?

  “Did you film the fight?” Betty asked excitedly.

  “Unfortunately, no.”

  His news scoop corroborated what Lenny had told me. It also supported my theory about probable financial trouble with the Eriksens. Unfortunately for Gia, the information made Fallon’s claim that Richard was about to leave his wife credible.

  “A husband and wife arguing about money doesn’t make Hagan look like a murder suspect. It makes the wife a prime candidate.” Grey uncrossed his arms and glared dismissively at MacAvoy.

  I was surprised at Grey’s strong reaction. He clearly didn’t value the reporter’s opinion. That wasn’t like Grey. He’d always been the fair and balanced half of our relationship.

  MacAvoy faced off with Grey, accepting the silent challenge Grey had issued. “Richard threatened Hagan. He told him he knew his secret, and if he didn’t let Zippy run, he’d go to the local authorities and tell them everything he knows.”

  “What did he know?” Betty pushed closer to MacAvoy, stepping on my foot. “What’s Hagan’s secret?”

  I shot her a look and took a large step away from her.

  “He didn’t say. But Hagan grew very quiet and told him he would accept a new check. That’s why Richard had gone back to his car.”

  “Did you tell this to Malone?” Grey asked.

  “Of course. I don’t withhold information.” MacAvoy gave me a pointed look.

  Excuse me? For once, I was keeping my nose clean. Well, mostly clean. My gaze bounced between the two men, the heavy duty posturing unmistakable. Was he insinuating that Grey was the one withholding information?

  I sandwiched myself between the men and directed MacAvoy’s attention toward me. “I’m sure you’ve searched Hagan’s background. Did you find anything suspicious?”

  “Sure. Nothing the police don’t already have access to. I do know Hagan doesn’t have an alibi. A reliable source told me Hagan was alone, running a sound check.”

  “Certainly someone saw him?” I asked.

  MacAvoy shook his head. “No one has confirmed his claim yet.”

  “I wonder what he’s hiding.” I mused.

  “Melinda,” Grey said under his breath. He’d dragged out my name until I almost didn’t recognize it.

  I tilted my head to the side and lifted one eyebrow. “I’m curious. There were hundreds of people here yesterday. Someone had to have seen Hagan. Unless he lied.”

  As Grandma Tillie used to say, “The hamster was on the wheel.” What could be so detrimental to Hagan’s reputation that he had basically let Richard blackmail him into allowing Zippy to race? Did his secret have to do with the Dachshund Dash? Or was it a personal matter? Did any of this have to do with the bar Hagan had recently bought?

  If all of this was true, and I didn’t have any reason to believe MacAvoy was lying, Hagan had fibbed when he’d said he didn’t know the Eriksens very well. They had to be close enough for Richard to know Hagan’s secret.

  I looked at Grey and asked softly, “Do you think Hagan knows about the illegal gaming? Could that be the secret Richard was talking about?”

  “I don’t know. You need to stay out of if.” He checked his watch. “I have an appointment at the gallery with a potential new artist. I have to go. I’ll pick you up at eight.” After a quick kiss, and a steely glare at MacAvoy, he walked away.

  My head spun at the speed of which he rushed off. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he had been looking for an excuse to leave.

  “Humph. He’s in a hurry.” Betty stated the obvious.

  Mr. TV watched Grey walk away. “Do you plan to marry him?”

  I was shocked at the amazingly personal question.

  “Of course she does,” Betty answered. “Cookie, I’ve got to use the little girls’ room. You two still gonna be here when I get back?”

  “I’m not the one who keeps vanishing.”

  “And you’re not the one I want waiting for me. I’ll be right b
ack, sugar buns.” Betty blew her newest crush a kiss. She floated toward the port-a-potties, giggling.

  MacAvoy blanched. “Are you two related?”

  “No,” I said with a laugh. “Let’s just say she adopted me. So, why do you want to know if I’m marrying Grey?”

  “It’s none of my business.”

  I raised my brow. “Agreed. But that didn’t stop you from asking. Look, I can read people pretty well. You think you know something, so get it off your chest. If you haven’t put two and two together yet, I’m rather direct. I may not like what you have to say, but I’d rather hear the truth than a lie.”

  He tucked his notebook inside his jacket. “Do you trust him?”

  “With my life,” I replied with conviction.

  He nodded a couple of times. “Remember what I said about Hagan, that if you get in his way he’ll do whatever it takes to get rid of you?”

  “Yes.”

  He pushed back his blazer and shoved his hands in his pockets. On a heavy sigh he said, “I’ve seen your fiancé and Hagan confiding in each other on more than one occasion. Whatever it is they’re talking about is very secretive. Don’t let Hagan’s suave persona suck you in. He’s a skilled gamesman. Whatever house of cards Hagan has conned him into, your fiancé is undoubtedly in over his head.”

  His concern took me aback. I blew my bangs out of my eyes and searched for a way to explain Grey without explaining Grey. “Um, I appreciate your concern. But you don’t need to worry about Grey. He’s been known to outfox a schemer or two.”

  He gave me a half shrug, obviously unconvinced. “Suit yourself. But when you’re bailing that guy out of jail, just remember I tried to warn you.”

  A half smile tugged on corner of my mouth. Most likely it would be the other way around—Grey would have to bail me out of jail.

  MacAvoy strutted off to secure his own one-on-one with Malone. My smile slipped, and I sighed heavyhearted. Grey wasn’t at the race because of me. He was on a case. Possibly one that involved Hagan Stone and an illegal gambling ring. My heart sank.

  When had he started to keep secrets again?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “YOU RAN OFF ALL the men, Cookie.” Betty sauntered up next to me. She’d reapplied her lip gloss and had drawn on cherry red eyebrows. Maybe one day she’d divulge why she preferred lipstick to an eyebrow pencil.