The Girl With the Dachshund Tattoo

by Sparkle Abbey

“Malone said to find her. Well, we did. Now it’s time to follow her. She’s not as sneaky as the thinks she is. Besides, it’s better if I find out what she’s hiding than Judd Malone. He has no misgivings about tossing people in jail. Not even the grandmotherly type.” I sprinted toward the parking lot where I’d left the Jeep.

  Darby chased after me. “Hold on. I’m coming.”

  We had to run past the crime scene to reach the parking lot. I caught Malone off to the side talking to one of his officers. His head jerked in our direction as we darted past. I refused to make eye contact, worried he might order us to stop.

  As soon as we reached the Jeep, I asked Darby, “Are you sure? You’re the official photographer. The big race will start soon.”

  Darby opened the door and gently set her bag behind the passenger seat. “You’re wasting time with all that talking.”

  A big Texas grin spread across my mouth. “I love it when you talk dirty.”

  I opened my door and shoved my backpack behind my seat. We scrambled inside and slammed the doors. I yanked my cell from my pocket and tossed it into the cup holder, then shoved my key into the ignition. The engine made a sad “wrrrr” sound, refusing to start.

  “Seriously? Now?” I tried again. It still wouldn’t start. I pounded the steering wheel. “Argh. What’s the deal?”

  “Come on. We’ll take my car. I’m parked a couple of rows behind you.”

  We jumped out of my Jeep and grabbed our bags. I followed Darby to her blue Fiesta. We piled in and fastened our seatbelts.

  “Betty’s not the best driver,” I warned.

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” she muttered.

  Thankfully, Darby’s car started on the first try. She shifted into reverse, but the car didn’t move.

  “What are you waiting for? She’s getting away.” My voice rose in frustration. I motioned toward the direction where Betty had somehow managed to hop the curb as she sped off. Lordy, she was a horrible driver.

  “Over there.” Darby pointed toward a row of port-a-potties. “Is that Gia and Zippy next to the black SUV?”

  Gia had changed into a pair of jeans and red halter top. Her hair was still in a ponytail, but at least she’d brushed it at some point. I wondered where she’d changed her clothes. She didn’t strike me as the type to change clothes in her vehicle.

  She had her back to us. It was hard to tell for sure from where we were parked, but it looked like she was loading Zippy into his car seat. “There’s no way she’s talked to Malone yet.”

  “Do you think she knows about Stephanie?”

  “Honestly, I think she killed her husband. I wouldn’t put it past her to kill the one person who recorded her lashing out in anger.”

  Darby’s thumbs beat out an anxious rhythm on the steering wheel. “We need to choose. Do we follow Betty or Gia?”

  “Gia,” we said simultaneously.

  As soon as our suspect pulled out of the parking lot, we followed. Darby’s economical sporty compact car followed Gia’s eighty-thousand-dollar Lexus SUV up Laguna Canyon Road.

  “Don’t get too close,” I said in a harsh whisper.

  Darby shot me a funny look. “Don’t be a backseat driver. Besides, her truck is so big, she probably can’t even see us.”

  “Sorry. I’m a little caught up in the moment. Where do you think she’s headed?”

  Darby chewed her bottom lip contemplating the question. “To dispose of the murder weapon.”

  I blinked. “That’s entirely possible. I should call Malone.” I reached for my cell, but my pocket was empty. “Shoot. I left my phone in the Jeep. Do you have Malone’s number?”

  “Why would I have his number?” Her voice rose a couple of octaves.

  “Well, you’ve found almost as many dead bodies as I have. Plus you were a prime suspect in a murder investigation.”

  Darby fixed me with a look that said I was two sandwiches short of picnic. “All the more reason to not have his number on speed dial. If I need to report an emergency, I’ll call 911 like everyone else.”

  She had a point. I guess I had an unresolved need to solve crime.

  We continued to follow Gia out of town. She hung a right on El Toro Road heading toward Laguna Hills. The brown rustic canyon slowly transformed into green trees and modern neighborhoods. Traffic was typical stop and go, but Darby never let Gia out of sight. The big SUV turned left at a mall, then sped up and cut a sharp right at a gas station and headed down a side street. Darby stayed on her tail.

  “Hang back.” I reached out for Darby’s arm. “We need to keep some distance. There’s not enough traffic here.”

  Darby eased up on the gas, allowing more space between us. Palm trees and security bushes lined the streets. Color-coordinated retail businesses were replaced with boring dreary warehouses.

  “This is an industrial area,” Darby said.

  We continued a few more blocks when she made a left. All of a sudden, we had our answer. Gia turned her giant SUV into a rental storage business. Darby drifted to the side of the road, out of sight. We watched Gia pull up to the black wrought-iron security gate. She rolled down her window, then punched a code into a keypad. The gate pulled back, granting her entrance.

  “Now what?” Darby asked.

  “Park. We have to climb over and go on foot.” Bless her heart, she didn’t balk at the idea of climbing the gate.

  She shut off the ignition and pocketed the key. “I haven’t climbed a fence since I was a teenager.”

  We got out of the car. Darby pressed the button on her key fob. The car beeped, confirming it had locked remotely.

  “We’ve broken onto a boat at the Dana Point Marina, how difficult can it be to climb the fence?”

  “Well, the last time, I ripped my jeans.” She flashed a self-conscious smile as we ran across the street.

  I laughed. “I can’t guarantee that won’t happen again. Look, if we catch her red-handed with anything incriminating, we call Malone.”

  We’d reached the fence just as a large moving truck pulled into the drive. Darby and I exchanged a “it’s-our-lucky-day” look. I waved them past us, and we quickly followed them inside the storage area.

  We raced in the direction where we’d last seen Gia’s vehicle. We jogged side by side down the middle alleyway; Darby watched the left, and I watched the right. We found Gia five rows down. Darby and I were both out of breath and a sweaty mess. We hid behind a tan concrete wall.

  Darby peeked around the corner.

  “Do you see her?” I asked.

  “Shh.” Darby slapped my leg.

  Since I was taller, I peered over her head. We were looking at one of the largest units on the lot.

  “How big do you think that is?” I whispered.

  “Bigger than the shed my dad built in our backyard in Nebraska. And that was huge. Dad stored a riding lawn mower, snow blower, a couple of bikes, gardening supplies, and camping equipment and still had plenty of space to walk around without touching a single item.”

  I frowned. “I was thinking more like actual dimensions. I’d say ten feet by twenty-five feet.”

  Darby looked up at me and frowned. “I have no idea how big that is.”

  Gia and Zippy were out of the SUV. Zippy was off his leash, distracted by unfamiliar smells.

  “Don’t you worry, boy,” she cooed. “They won’t get away with disqualifying you. You’re a champion.”

  I wished I could see her face as she repeatedly worked the combination lock.

  “Why isn’t this working?” Gia shouted, yanking on the lock. “Aaarg.” She stomped her foot like a preschooler.

  “Careful, princess, you’ll break a nail.” I chuckled softly. Darby shushed me again.

  Gia wiped her palms on her jeans. “Damn it!” She tried again. “Six. Twenty-eight. Three.” She tugged on the lock, and it released. “Finally.”

  This was it. My heart raced as the orange door rolled up. We sucked in our breath in anticipation.

&n
bsp; “Hells bells. There’s no way you’re walking around in there.” I wasn’t sure if I was horrified or impressed.

  From floor to ceiling, the unit was packed with furniture, cardboard boxes, trunks, and plastic totes. Some items were still in their store bags. If I had to make a guess, the tags were probably still attached. I was shocked. Was this why the Eriksens were broke? Not because of Richard’s therapy, but because of Gia’s shopping addictions? By the amount of possessions in the unit, she was a shopaholic hoarder. It didn’t look like she’d thrown anything away. Ever.

  “Now, where did I put that?” Head down, she tossed aside one mangled box for a sturdy one. She clumsily maneuvered though the storage room, tottering over boxes and plastic bags, almost landing on an outdoor metal butterfly chair. Sadly, she had good taste. I’d happily take the huge butterfly chair off her hands.

  “What do you think she’s looking for?” Darby asked in a hushed voice.

  “Who knows? You’d need a treasure map to find anything in there,” I whispered.

  Zippy charged deeper inside. He rooted around while Gia frantically searched. The dog ran toward the front, nose to the ground, sniffing whatever his nose could touch. Something had caught his attention. He whined as he pawed at a water-stained cardboard box toward the door, only a few feet from where Gia stood.

  “What did you find, Zippy?” Gia inspected the worn box.

  “Give me your cell.” I patted Darby’s shoulder.

  Darby coughed up her phone without question. Unless you counted her arched eyebrows as a question. I did not.

  “I think I can remember Malone’s number by the pattern.” I concentrated on the key pad, practicing what I thought the configuration could be. “I didn’t always have him programmed, you know.”

  Darby wisely kept her own counsel. She returned to our surveillance project. “She’s opening the box,” she warned.

  I poked my head around the corner. Gia was bent at the waist, pushing her ample rear end toward us. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” She straightened, then spun around, an animated smile on her bruised face.

  Darby and I gasped. Gia gripped a very large handgun, which was pointed in our direction.

  I ducked behind the wall, dragging my best friend with me.

  “She has a gun. We’re going to die,” Darby cried.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  WE SANK TO THE ground. The heat of the pavement seeped through my jeans. “I don’t think she saw us.” I said between the beats of my pounding heart.

  I whipped out Darby’s phone from under my butt, and punched in the pattern I remembered. Please be right.

  “Malone.” He picked up on the first ring.

  “It’s Melinda.” I didn’t bother to hide the panic from my voice. Times like this called for the man with the badge. Even if it meant the threat of a night in the pokey. “Darby and I followed Gia to a storage unit. She has a gun,” I whispered.

  “Why would you do something so stupid?” I didn’t have to see him to know his stock-and-trade unreadable expression had been replaced with a set jaw and furious eyes.

  “How were we supposed to know she was retrieving a weapon?” I asked in a harsh whisper. Following Gia seemed like a good idea at the time. I peeked around the corner to make sure she was still there.

  “You don’t. You’re not the police,” he barked into my ear. “Where are you?”

  I rattled off the address and storage unit number. “You’ll need a code to get past the security gate.”

  “What is it?”

  I closed my eyes knowing my answer would probably push him over the edge. “I have no idea. We parked Darby’s car and followed someone else inside. I don’t know how much longer she’ll be here. I’m not even sure if the gun is loaded. What do you want us to do?”

  “Get back to Darby’s car and get somewhere safe.” His curt tone cut off any argument he thought I might give.

  Joke was on him. For once, I wasn’t about to quibble over being ordered around.

  I turned to Darby who no longer looked terrified. In fact her light blue eyes snapped with worry. Luckily for us, I had good news.

  I gave her the cell phone back. “Calvary is on the way. Let’s get out of here.”

  “We should have followed Betty. At least we already know where her gun is.” Darby’s dry tone shook a laugh out of me.

  Point taken.

  DARBY AND I SAT in her small Fiesta with the back windows halfway down for what seemed like an eternity. It was probably more like ten minutes. Two Laguna Hills police cars and Malone’s silver Camaro barreled down the street. No sirens. They whipped into the driveway, stopping at the security gate only long enough to punch a code into the keypad. The gate opened, slick as a whistle. They rolled through like they belonged. Unlike us.

  “How did he know the number?” Darby asked, impressed.

  “He’s Judd Malone. He probably called the company and demanded the code.”

  Five minutes dragged along. I shifted in my seat. “Turn the key so I can roll my window down.”

  She rolled her eyes. I wasn’t fooling her. She was well aware I wanted to hear what was happening. Being the amazing best friend that she was, she honored my request.

  We continued to wait. Darby softly hummed the Jeopardy theme.

  I looked at her amused. “What is ‘bored out of my mind,’ Alex?”

  “I’d never make it as an undercover cop,” she said.

  After another five minutes went by without the sounds of guns firing, I opened the door.

  “Mel, Malone said to stay here.”

  I didn’t need Darby’s reminder. “I won’t get too close.” I slid out and quietly closed the door. I moved to the front of the car, listening for an indication of what was happening on the other side of the gate.

  Darby joined me. She nervously scanned the street. “This is a bad idea.”

  “Probably. But it won’t be the last bad idea I act on.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to have dinner with Grey tonight?”

  I shoved my hands in my pockets. I hadn’t forgotten about our dinner, but it hadn’t been top of mind either. “Yes. What does that have to do with this?”

  Her eyes widened. “You won’t make it if Malone throws you in jail.”

  I laughed. “Okay. Okay. You win.”

  We leaned against the hood of the car. “What’s wrong with the Jeep?” she asked.

  I sighed. “I don’t know. It worked fine this morning. Maybe I left the lights on and drained the battery. Hopefully, I just need a jump start.” Sort of like my relationship with Grey.

  One of the Laguna Hills police cars appeared at the exit, saving me from morose thoughts.

  “Here they come.” Darby announced.

  We slid off the hood and watched. The gate opened; a police car rolled through the exit. Gia sat in the back seat. As they drove past, she noticed us and shot a death glare in our direction. She wasn’t happy to see us. It didn’t take a genius to guess we were the ones who called the cops.

  “He arrested Gia,” Darby exclaimed. “Where’s Zippy? Do you think he’s with her?”

  I cringed as I imagined what Malone had to endure if he’d tried to take Zippy. “I can’t imagine Gia going anywhere without her dog.”

  The second police car pulled around the corner with Malone’s Camaro right behind. The police car headed out of town, Malone pulled up next to us and parked.

  “Aren’t you glad we stayed put?” Darby said.

  Not really. I didn’t like to be left out of the party. I wasn’t exactly a wallflower type.

  Malone unfolded from his car and made his way toward us. I liked to describe his walk as legal danger.

  “Did you arrest her?” I asked as soon as he was close enough to hear me. I thought it was better to take control before the lecture started.

  He stopped in front of us. His wide-legged stance kept us from escaping before he was finished with us. We were about to be roya
lly scolded. “She’s being taken in for questioning.”

  “What the heck was all that stuff?” Darby asked.

  Malone shook his head. With his expertise at the neutral expression, I was hard pressed to guess if he was confused or appalled by Gia’s hidden treasures. “Those are the items that won’t fit in her house. She also rents two more units here.”

  “She’s a shopaholic. That would explain the Eriksens’ financial issues. You should have seen her at the boutique. She acted like a junkie getting her fix by binge-shopping.”

  He gave me a pointed look.

  Yeah, yeah. I was theorizing. “What about the gun? Is it Richard’s?”

  He didn’t answer right away. “She says it’s not, but we’ll run the serial number for verification.”

  “Of course she’s lying,” I said. Malone didn’t respond. Not a blink of an eye, muscle twitch, or clenched jaw. A silent Malone meant a ticked-off detective.

  “Is it the murder weapon?” Darby asked.

  “We won’t know that for a couple of days,” he explained.

  The midday sun peeked out from behind a gray cloud. Darby shielded her eyes from the sudden burst of bright light. “Can you at least tell if it’s been fired?”

  I shook my head. “You can’t tell if a gun has been fired recently by looking at it,” I explained.

  Malone raised an eyebrow. “Care to enlighten me on how you know that?”

  I shrugged. “I grew up in Texas. My daddy taught me how to shoot and care for my gun. I know you can tell if a gun is dirty, but you can’t tell if it’s been shot recently.”

  He studied me closely. I made myself hold steady under his scrutiny. Maybe he’d take me a little more seriously with his newfound knowledge.

  I smoothed my hair back from my face. “Did she tell you what she was going to do with it? Was she going after Hagan?”

  He shook his head. “She said she planned to sell it.”

  It was possible she was telling the truth. Depending on the type of gun, she could get a large chunk of money quickly. It was also possible she intended to shoot Hagan first. A girl has to have priorities.

  Malone shifted his weight. “Since you’re here, does that mean you didn’t find Betty?”