I was stunned. I had my back to the room so I couldn’t see where he’d gone or what had captured his attention. I fell back against the seat. I’d just given him my Grandma Tillie’s brooch. Laid my heart on the table, literally, and he left me sitting alone. He’d left me.
What the hell?
I scooted across the booth and got up to find out what was more important than my peace offering. I didn’t have to go far. He was at the bar, a gin and tonic in his hand, yucking it up with none other than Hagan Stone. My eyes narrowed. He hadn’t had time to order that drink, he had to have swiped it from someone else. He was in undercover mode.
I adjusted my dress and smoothed my hair, which I’d left down the way Grey preferred. I moved toward the bar with laser focus.
I called up my best beauty pageant smile and pinned it to my mouth. “Why, Hagan Stone, imagine seeing you here. Celebrating the success of the Dachshund Dash?”
Hagan set down his Scotch and stood. “Melinda, it’s so nice to see you. May I say, you look ravishing. Surely you’re not here alone.” He clasped my hands in his and squeezed.
I maintained eye contact with Hagan. Apparently, Grey hadn’t told him we knew each other, let alone that we were engaged. “Oh, no. I’m here with my fiancé.”
I could feel Grey squirm next to Hagan. My eyes narrowed slightly. Grey was a dead man. How in the world he thought he’d get away with pretending he didn’t know me was ridiculous. I looked forward to making him squirm.
“I’m sorry, have you met Grey Donovan? Grey, this is Melinda Langston. She owns the Bow Wow Boutique in Laguna.” Hagan made the unnecessary introductions.
“It’s nice to meet you.” Grey held out his hand. I ignored it.
I smiled slyly. “I must not have made a very good impression on you. We’ve met before. I believe you own an art gallery.”
He pretended to think about when that might have been. “Yes, of course. You attended the ARL benefit I held a couple of months ago.”
I tilted my head to the side. “So you do remember me?”
Grey’s brow rose a fraction. “You’d be hard to forget.”
Obviously not.
“I’m sure your fiancé is wondering where you are.” Hagan said, an obvious attempt to get rid of me.
“Oh, he knows exactly where I am,” I said with a silly, girly laugh. I rested my hand on his arm. “I did want to apologize for not being at the final race. I heard it was thrilling.”
Hagan puffed out his chest like a strutting peacock. “It was a real nail-biter. Great entertainment.”
I dropped my hand to my side. I could feel Grey’s anxiety level rise the longer I stayed. Good. “It’s too bad about the filmmaker. I heard the TV reporter found her murdered at the chili truck.”
“I heard that. Yes, it’s too bad.” His tone was as tight as his expression.
“I guess that works out well for you. You know, since she had accused you of illegal gambling and all.”
Grey shifted on his stool, “accidently” stepping on my foot. I ignored him and forged ahead.
“Are you implying I had anything to do with her unfortunate death?” Hagan sputtered.
I shook my head. “No, not at all. Did you know her camera is missing?”
“I did not.”
“I’m curious, where were you, Hagan, when she was killed?”
“I don’t believe I’m obligated to answer your questions.” Hagan’s face darkened, the muscles under the shadow of dark stubble twitched.
If you Googled “killer” I imagined that was the face you’d find.
“He was with me,” Grey stated, cutting me off at the knees.
My eyes widened as my gaze swiveled between the two of them. “I didn’t realize you two were so friendly.”
Hagan shot me a smarmy grin. “We were talking about business. A possible partnership.”
“I see.” I managed to maintain my composure. “Well, I’ve kept you gentleman distracted long enough. Do you know which way to the ladies’ room?”
Grey stood and pointed past the bar. “I believe it’s in that direction.”
I couldn’t look at him. I was an emotional volcano. I headed to the bathroom to pull myself together before I blew Grey’s cover. I splashed my face with cold water. After I refreshed my makeup, and paced until I was no longer furious but just pissed off, I returned to our table. I managed to avoid the bar on the way.
Grey was already at the table. His face a mask, but I saw the fire in his eyes. He was just as pissed off as I was. Good.
“You lied.” I came out swinging. I thought he was going to deny it or at least lay out some type of FBI excuse. I was wrong.
“I did.”
“Why? To get back at me?”
“You know I can’t talk to you about the case I’m on.” His even tone kept me off-balance.
I leaned against the table, pushing my face closer to him, wanting—no, needing—him to show his emotions. “You’re not only lying to me; you’re lying to yourself. All you had to say was that he had something to do with a case. I’d have dropped it.”
“No. No, you wouldn’t have. You don’t know how. You’re like a dog with a bone—relentless. You just proved you’re impulsive and reckless.” A thin chill hung on his words. I wanted his emotion, and I got it.
I sat back, feeling lightheaded. I breathed as deeply as I could. I thought about Betty’s new dog and wondered if Betty had called Caro yet. Anything to momentarily distract myself from what was happening.
I twisted my ring. “I have never interfered in your cases.”
“Until tonight,” he bit out.
“I’ve never lied to you. Even when I knew you’d be mad and we’d fight.”
“You knew about my job. I’ve always been honest about that.”
“But this was different. You told me you were going to DC. Was that true?”
He shook his head.
I gritted my teeth. He’d been lying the whole time. He’d never intended to travel to DC There was no out-of-state case. He’d always been looking at Hagan, ringleader of the undercover gambling ring. He’d tried to protect Betty.
I pushed out a sad smile. What was I going to tell Betty?
I drank my wine with a shaky hand. “You were always planning on coming to the race to meet Hagan?”
He remained silent.
“I see.” And suddenly I did see. Olivia Benedict was his informant. The one piece MacAvoy hadn’t been able to put together. “You used me and Betty. You could have gotten her gun back at any time. I can’t believe it. I would have helped you in a heartbeat. But instead you lied. All the while I’m feeling horrible about one moment of bad judgment, you’re lying to me.”
He sat across from me, stone-faced. His eyes shifted slightly. He was formulating a response.
It felt like my heart was trying to claw its way out of my chest. I never thought I’d be one to back down from a confrontation, but I just didn’t have the energy to fight. Nor the desire. I tried to laugh dismissively; instead it came out a cross between a hiccup and a sob. I took off my ring and laid it next to him. “I hope you have a great life, Grey.”
“Melinda.”
I shook my head. I could see him through the tears pressing against my eyes. “It’s not working. I’m done. You’re done. I crossed a line you can’t forgive. I get it. Well, now you’ve crossed a line I’m not sure I can forgive.”
“Mel.” I heard the anger, hurt, and vulnerability all in the one word. My name. My heart wedged in my throat. Feeling my own vulnerability just fired my anger.
“Good God. Be honest with yourself. If you weren’t still ticked off at me, you would have told me you were going to be at the race for a case. You wouldn’t have needed to give me details. I wouldn’t have asked.” I hiccupped. “Okay, I would have asked. But I would have accepted that you couldn’t have shared specifics.”
He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. I was right. I grabbed my purse and stood.
<
br /> “Mel, I drove,” he said quietly.
I shook my head. “I can’t be with you right now. I’ll call a taxi.”
With my head held high, and my Montgomery pride on full display, it was my turn to walk away and leave him alone. Forgetting about Grandma Tillie’s brooch tucked safely in Grey’s pocket.
I stepped outside. The crisp salt air slapped my face, shaking me out of my pity party. I narrowed my eyes in determination. I’d show him “impulsive.” For my last reckless move of the night, I cozied up to the valet and talked him into bringing me Grey’s SUV.
Mr. Undercover FBI Man could take the taxi home.
Damn him for breaking my heart.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
AN HOUR LATER, I was cuddled up in bed with Missy.
This wasn’t the first time Grey and I had called it quits. He and I had broken up before, but it had been different. The last time we’d split up had been due to my inability to stop worrying about his safety. And also due to Grey’s refusal to talk about his work. But in the past two years, he’d never lied to me. At least not that I knew about. His blatant deceit caused me to question everything he’d ever told me.
No, this breakup was different. I wasn’t being dramatic. I knew in my heart, this was the end. What a fool I’d been. I’d stupidly believed his undercover life hadn’t applied to me.
My cell rang. My heart tightened. It was probably Grey. I’d left his car on the street and the keys in the visor. If he was smart he would have had the taxi drop him off here so he could pick up his car.
I let the phone ring. Grey knew how to take a hint. He’d respected that I didn’t want to talk to him anymore tonight. Within seconds the phone rang again. The demanding sound refused to be ignored.
I sighed in exasperation and swiped my phone off the nightstand. I looked at the caller ID. It wasn’t Grey. It was my mama.
How did she know? I was at one of my lowest points in my life, and somehow she knew it. Unlike Grey, my mother did not know how to take a hint.
I cleared my throat. “Hey, Mama.” I tucked the blankets around my body, creating a mummy effect.
“Finally. I’ve called you twenty times.”
Why couldn’t she say “hello” like a civilized person? “Twice, Mama. You’ve called me two times. I’m really not in the mood to talk tonight. Did you need anything in particular?”
“You tell me. You’re the one hiding something, Melinda. I could tell the last couple of times we talked.”
I stroked Missy’s head as I pictured the hurt look I knew she was crafting. A wasted effort since I was two thousand miles away. “I’m afraid your imagination is working overtime.”
“A mother knows her child. Is it work? You don’t have to waste the best years of your life rising before nine.”
“No. There’s nothing wrong,” I lied.
“Then it has to be Grey. What did you do?” Her accusing tone was the last straw.
“Thank you for your support and vote of confidence, Mama.” I could hear her revving up to argue, but I talked right over her. “I’m so tired of your constant assumptions that I’m the one who’s going to screw up that relationship. You know, Grey’s not perfect either.”
For once she had nothing to say. “If you must know, there was another death at the Doxie Dash. I’ve had a long day, and I’m tired.”
“I-I am sorry, sugar.”
I closed my eyes suddenly exhausted. “I know you are. Mama, I really am tired. I’ll call you later.”
I shut down my phone. If it rang again tonight, I didn’t want to know. It was bad enough I’d have to tell Betty and Darby about the demise of my relationship with Grey. I released a jagged sigh. I couldn’t think about that now.
I snapped off the tableside lamp. Darkness enveloped the room. Strangely, it was somehow comforting. I wasn’t the cry-herself-to-sleep kinda gal. Although tonight I might make an exception.
Chapter Thirty
I WOKE UP THE next morning with one thing on my mind—I wanted my brooch back.
Sunshine burst through my window like a floodlight. I closed my eyes and rolled to my side, keeping my back to the dawn. Sleep had been elusive. I’d tossed and turned so often, I’d kicked Missy off the bed more than once. My mind had refused to shut down.
The whole mess sucked.
On the plus side, a fitful night provided plenty of time to rehearse what I’d say to Grey the next time I saw him. I vacillated between demanding a clear explanation for the past two years together, and insisting on knowing exactly what his relationship with Hagan Stone was. I was smart enough to know that neither of those were viable options.
Insomnia also afforded an opportunity to mull over The Doxie Dash Murders. Lame, but that’s what the media called them now.
With nothing but time on my hands in the wee hours of the morning, here’s the suspect list I’d formed for Richard Eriksen’s murder:
Gia Eriksen. Betrayed spouse. Key question: when did she know about her husband’s infidelity? A cheating husband was a great motive for murder. Shopaholic and hoarder. If her husband was leaving her and retiring Zippy, Gia had just lost her income to buy, buy, buy. Financial problems. A life insurance policy ensured a renewed cash flow and a second motive for murder.
There was proof she’d doped her dog at least once. According to Fallon, Richard didn’t have a clue about his wife’s scandalous activities. Gia knew Hagan Stone’s secret. Darby and I caught her red-handed with a gun that may or may not be the murder weapon. As for an alibi, she didn’t have one. She claimed to be looking for her husband. Easy enough to discredit.
Fallon Keller. Richard’s mistress. She said Richard was leaving his wife. Per Fallon, she and Richard had argued about Juicy Fruit gum. If he was really leaving his wife, why would Fallon refuse to buy the man of her dreams a measly pack a gum? She had a partial alibi, taking cash from the ATM, which is smart if you’re planning to kill someone and you don’t want to be fingered as the murderer.
Hagan Stone. The Chairman of the Board for the Laguna Beach Dachshund Dash. Where do I start? Illegal gambling ring. Supposedly, Richard was blackmailing him. Did that have anything to do with betting? Grey had been assigned to watch him. If the FBI was monitoring Hagan, he had to be into something deeper than small-time wiener race gambling. My best guess: money laundering. Grey offered himself as Hagan’s alibi. Fact? Only Grey and Hagan know for sure. If Hagan did kill anyone, Grey knew all about it.
Lenny Santucci. Rabid competitor. Lives in his car with his dog. Hates the Eriksens. Tried to pass off Pickles as a descendant of Chip Ahoy. Richard threatened to expose him. For the past year, Lenny had been trying to prove they were cheaters. Probably an alcoholic. Lenny knew about the gambling. He loved his depressed dog. Did he love him enough to kill his competition’s owner? What was Lenny’s alibi?
As for Olivia, the filmmaker, all I had was a guess as to why she’d been killed. Her film had been uncovering everyone’s closely guarded secrets.
Like I said, I’d had a lot of time to think. Unfortunately, even with all that time, I still didn’t have a clue as to who killed either of the victims.
With a determined sigh, I rolled out of bed. Today, I’d concentrate on retrieving my brooch.
MISSY AND I STARTED the day as we did most days—a quick breakfast after a short run on the beach, a shower for me, and a thorough wrinkle-cleaning for Missy. As I moved about the bedroom, my trusted sidekick jumped on the bed. She watched as I pulled on my jeans and a T-shirt that read, “Sit Happens.” What can I say? It seemed like an appropriate shirt for the mood I was in. My comfy motorcycle boots were the perfect finishing touch for the day’s outfit.
Missy settled in with a sigh. I rubbed her back and planted a quick kiss on her head. She licked my cheek.
“I love you too, girlfriend.”
I’m sure you’re wondering about my emotional status. Honestly, I felt like a contestant on “Wheel of Emotion.” I wanted optimism, yet landed on anyth
ing but that. Heaven help us all if I ever landed on “bankrupt.”
For now, I decided to concentrate on the day’s tasks, putting one foot in front of the other, and running on Texas grit.
I headed to the bathroom to brush my hair. Missy jumped off the bed and dutifully followed. She stretched out, blocking the doorway; her soulful eyes surveyed my every move. I firmly believed animals felt their humans’ emotions.
I sighed. “I’m not foolin’ ya, am I?”
I pulled my hair into a ponytail and swiped on some mascara. “Alrighty then. I guess you and I are hanging out today. Let’s go for a ride.”
Missy stood and shook, slapping ropes of drool against the bathroom door. I quickly wiped her mess with a washcloth.
“Are you always going to do that?” I laughed lightly. She snorted and wagged her stubby tail.
Ready to hit the road, I collected my purse and Missy’s leash, and we headed for the Jeep. As we backed out of the driveway, I rolled down the windows so we could enjoy the fresh air. Blue sky, bright sun, and a soft ocean breeze. A direct contrast to my mood.
First errand of the morning was to drive by Grey’s gallery on the off-chance his vehicle was out front. No, I wasn’t stalking him. I was eager to take back what was mine.
It was only ten, and, like most of the art galleries downtown, Grey didn’t open until eleven. Some days he didn’t open at all. But I wasn’t leaving anything to chance. Unfortunately, my reconnaissance proved what I’d already known—the gallery was closed. Couldn’t blame a girl for trying.
I hung a U-turn and headed toward the boutique. Time to unload the merchandise from the doxie race for the last time. Thank goodness.
My eyes were dry from the lack of sleep the night before so I decided on a quick detour to the drugstore. I was also out of hand sanitizer at the boutique. Not planning to be long, I found a spot along the street. I shoved a couple of quarters in the meter, then grabbed Missy’s leash, and we headed inside.
The Girl With the Dachshund Tattoo Page 20
