Fifty Shades of Greyhound (The Pampered Pets Mystery Series)

by Sparkle Abbey

  I did know. Ollie had a checkered past himself, which was why he lived alone in this big house with only the dogs for company. His wife had gotten fed up with the drugs and drinking. One day, she’d taken the kids and moved back to England. At least, according to the word around town. Ollie himself never talked about his family.

  We wrapped up, and I left Ollie with some notes and promised to call Jade with recommendations for when Kendall came to groom Morkie. Kendall was always gentle with the dogs, and once he understood the process, he would do fine. Maybe I’d just talk to him directly.

  I grabbed lunch and spent the afternoon at the office updating files. I also made notes for Blanche on which Greyhound owners I’d talked with already and anything else they’d shared.

  By the time I’d finished my day and headed for home, it was dusk, and, in Ollie’s words, I was “knackered”.”

  Which, for those of you this side of the pond, means dead-dog tired.

  Chapter Thirteen

  SUNSET IS LAGUNA Beach’s best feature.

  Not that the coastal village isn’t beautiful on a perfect weather day like today had been. But sunset in Laguna is nothing short of phenomenal—almost every time.

  I turned into my driveway and hit the button for the garage door opener. I hesitated as I did. There was a light on next door. Maybe Verdi was spending the night.

  April Mae had told her she was welcome to stay at the house, but Verdi had her apartment and most nights stayed there. She took great care of April Mae’s cats, Tobey and Minou, which was the most important thing.

  I hadn’t noticed her car, so she could have accidently left a light on when she’d left. Not a big deal, and, if that was the case, I could run next door and turn it off after dinner.

  I parked my car in the garage and pushed the button to close the door.

  Dogbert was thrilled to see me. Thelma and Louise barely acknowledged me. They lifted their furry heads as if to say, “Oh, it’s you. Let us know when dinner is ready.”

  I took Dogbert for a quick walk and then back home changed into my most comfy clothes. Remember those yoga clothes I wore to the self-defense class? Yeah, those were the ones.

  Note to self: must shop for something nicer before next week’s class.

  I fed my fur kids and started dinner for myself. As I threw together the spinach salad and tossed some toasted almonds on top, I considered the day. Pretty productive. My regular client load was under control. A few more Greyhound clients to go.

  Maybe I’d have some news on Grandma Tillie’s brooch tomorrow. That FBI agent still had not called me back.

  Bloody berk. I used Ollie’s term in my head. I still didn’t know the meaning, but his tone had conveyed the gist.

  I took my salad and a glass of Chardonnay out to my patio.

  The light was still on next door at April Mae’s house, and it bugged me. I couldn’t tell for sure which light was on. It didn’t appear to be the veranda. There was an enclosed veranda at the back of the house that had been set up as an area for Toby and Minou, April Mae’s cats.

  They’d become April Mae’s cats in my mind. My next-door neighbor Kitty had named them, but when she was killed (another murder, I’m afraid) and her sister inherited the cats and the home, the two Bengal cats had immediately bonded with April Mae. I hoped she was faring well in getting things sorted out in her home state of Missouri. I missed her flamboyant presence.

  I’d run next door as soon as I’d finished eating. If Verdi was there, I’d update her on the status of the investigation as I knew it. If she wasn’t, I’d turn off the light in the house. Better than worrying about it all night.

  I carried my dishes back inside, rinsed them and set them aside. I grabbed my sweatshirt, cell phone, and my key to the house next door just in case Verdi wasn’t there. I stepped outside. There was no little green car in the drive, but I rang the doorbell anyway.

  I unlocked the door and stepped in. The light I’d seen from my house was in the kitchen. Halfway down the hallway, I heard something. Maybe Verdi was there after all.

  I could see a shadow moving in the kitchen.

  “Verdi?” I called.

  The shadow froze.

  Okay, not Verdi.

  I backed up, my eyes glued to the doorway, ready to turn and run if necessary.

  A head popped around the corner.

  I choked back a scream as I recognized the face. “Eugene?”

  “Yes.” He had on loose-fitting pajamas and clutched a bowl heaped with ice cream. I knew I should be afraid of, or at the very least cautious of, a “person-of-interest” in a murder investigation, but it was difficult to take seriously a baby-faced dude in flannel Star Wars jammies with a spoon full of Rocky Road halfway to his mouth.

  “You know the police are looking for you?” Of course he did, but I had to say it anyway.

  “Um, yeah.” His eyes, so much like Verdi’s, were round with fear.

  I heard the door behind me open and turned to see Verdi walk in, her arms weighed down with grocery bags.

  “Caro.” Guilt washed her face. “I . . . uh . . . I,” she stuttered.

  “Go put the groceries in the kitchen, and then we need to talk.” I moved so she could pass. “You, too.” I pointed at Eugene who’d stuck the spoon in his bowl for another bite of ice cream.

  I settled myself on the couch in April Mae’s living room and waited for the brother and sister. I could hear furtive whispers but couldn’t quite make out the conversation. Toby and Minou, the two Bengal cats, joined me on the couch, and I stroked their dappled coats as I waited.

  I was giving Verdi and her brother a few minutes more and then I was done cooling my heels. I’d gone from scared out of my wits to fuming in the last few minutes, and I was ready to hear what the two of them had to say for themselves. Only a buzzard feeds on his friends, and, I have to tell you, I was feeling plenty picked on.

  Finally, Verdi and Eugene appeared. They sat down facing me, straight-backed and nervous.

  They looked so young and so dang scared my anger dissipated.

  I would start with him. “Eugene, you know the police want to talk to you, right?”

  He nodded.

  “And, Verdi, you could be in a lot of trouble for hiding him instead of letting Detective Malone know he’s here.”

  “I know.” Verdi held steady eye contact. “But, Caro, he didn’t kill that guy. The guy wasn’t even who he claimed to be.”

  “Verdi—” Eugene’s voice held a warning tone.

  “So, who was he?” I knew from my conversation with Davis Pinter that the name he’d used was fictitious, but it didn’t explain why he’d needed a phony name.

  “He is—um—was Dirk Pennick,” Eugene said. “A criminal and a con man. He was in prison at the same time as me. When I saw him at the event, I knew he was up to something. Probably figured a big deal like that, there’d be a lot of people with lot of money.”

  “Why didn’t you tell someone about him?”

  “I was going to tell Dino and let him have the people in charge throw Dirk out.” Eugene swallowed hard. “I knew no one would believe me, but Dino’s respected. They’d believe him.”

  “So why didn’t you tell Dino?”

  “I was looking for Dino, but then somebody stabbed Dirk, and everyone was hunting for me.” His arms flailed as he talked. “They’d already decided I did it. I knew no one would hear me out. They didn’t before. I have a record now, and it would be right back to jail for me.”

  Verdi sat quietly, her face frozen in place as Eugene told his story.

  I leaned forward to talk to her. “Verdi, you—”

  She stopped me. “Caro, you can’t call the police.” Her chin raised in defiance.

  I turned back to her brother. “Eugene, did you stab Dirk?”

  “No. Not that anyone cares.” Cynicism tainted his answer.

  “I don’t want to hear that. Your sister obviously cares.”

  “Yeah.” He looked
at Verdi sheepishly.

  “So, here are our options. I can call the police, and they’ll come very quickly. I know, I’ve had them respond. Or I can call Detective Malone, and you, Verdi, can explain that your brother is here and would like to talk to him.” I looked from one to the other. “Verdi, you know Malone He’s fair.”

  She nodded and looked at her brother. “Eugene, I know you’re scared. I’m scared, too. But, I think we should talk to the detective.”

  Eugene started to say something but then fell back in the chair, and the fight went out of him. “Okay, Sis.”

  I pulled my cell phone from my sweatshirt pocket and dialed Malone’s number.

  He answered right away. “Need help with the FBI again?” I guess the caller ID must have given away who was on the other end of the line.

  “No.” I hadn’t needed help before, but this wasn’t the time to go into that. “I’m at April Mae’s house with Verdi, and she has something to tell you.”

  I handed the phone to Verdi, and she began her explanation. I turned to Eugene and said, “You might want to change clothes before Detective Malone arrives.”

  “What?” He looked down at the scattered droids on his dark blue flannel pj’s. “Oh, right.” He stood and shuffled down the hall, the pajama pants baggy on his skinny hips. “I’ll be right back.”

  Verdi pushed the button to end the call with Malone and handed my phone back to me. “He’s on his way.” She looked around. “Where’s Eugene?”

  “He went to change his clothes.” I tucked the phone back in my pocket.

  “Probably a good idea.” Verdi smiled slightly for the first time since she’d arrived. “He’s always had a thing for sci-fi movies.”

  In what seemed like only seconds, there was a knock at the door. I got up and answered it.

  “Caro.” Malone was attired in his usual uniform of dark jeans, dark T-shirt, and leather jacket.

  I wished I’d thrown on something other than yoga pants and a sweatshirt. Seemed Malone often got to see me at my worst.

  “Verdi.” He acknowledged my nervous burgundy-haired friend who stood wringing her hands. “I see you two are not in costume tonight.” A smile lurked, but didn’t quite break through.

  I didn’t appreciate the ribbing, but I did welcome his effort to lighten the tension.

  “Your brother contacted you?” He got straight to the point.

  “Yes, he did, detective.” Verdi’s voice shook. “He was afraid to come forward because of his record. But he didn’t kill that guy,” she finished in a stronger tone.

  “I see.” Malone stood, his feet planted apart. The cats moved to greet him, rubbing their regal heads against his legs. “I’d like to hear the story from him. Where is he?”

  “He went to change clothes,” I explained.

  “I’ll go get him.” Verdi seemed relieved to move. “He’s in the guest room.” She hurried down the hall.

  “Can’t stay out of my murder investigations can you, Caro?” Malone shifted his gaze to me.

  “Wow, we’re on a first name basis?” I couldn’t resist. “Why sugar, I think I must be growing on you.”

  “Seems to me Verdi wouldn’t turn in her brother on her own.” Malone rubbed his chin. “How did you figure out he was here?”

  “A light was on,” I admitted. “I came over to check it out.”

  “I hear the Greyhound lady has you visiting all the people who had dogs at the fancy dinner.”

  “That’s right.”

  Where had he heard about my arrangement with Blanche?

  “If you hear anything, I expect you to let me know.” His blue eyes pinned me.

  “Of course.”

  Verdi came back down the hall, her eyes wide and her face pale.

  “Verdi, are you okay?” I stepped forward and grabbed her hands. “What is it?”

  She pressed her lips together, swallowed and finally choked out, “Eugene is gone.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  DETECTIVE MALONE raced around April Mae’s house like a crazed rodeo clown being chased by a bull.

  Though I didn’t think he’d appreciate the clown comparison, I’d have to say I’ve never seen him move so fast. He’d pulled the gun that’d been hidden by the leather jacket, and he dashed down the hallway, feet pounding, slamming open every door.

  He checked the bathrooms, the bedroom, the closets, and the guest room where Eugene had been staying. He had us show him the back door and then he searched the backyard, all the while on the phone requesting assistance.

  Two uniformed officers arrived within minutes, and Malone was in full cop mode. He sent them off to search the backyard again and the surrounding neighborhood.

  He made us repeat—several times—the information Eugene had shared about Victor aka Dirk. I thought Eugene had said Dirk Pen-something, and Verdi thought he’d said Dirk Ben-something. Neither of us were sure about the name, but, hey, we hadn’t planned to have to repeat the information word for word to Detective Malone. We’d expected Eugene would give his own firsthand account.

  “Tell me again what he said about what this guy did.” Malone’s voice was tight.

  I looked over at Verdi. She sat cross-legged on the couch and twirled her hair with one finger. Her whole small being sagged against the cushions. The corners of her eyes drooped with exhaustion. I would take this round.

  “Eugene said Dirk was a con man.” I said, for what had to be the hundredth time.

  “Which would make sense,” I continued, “because the alias he chose to use was the guy who sold the Eiffel Tower to several people. Did you know the real Victor Lustig not only swindled people into thinking they were buying the Eiffel Tower, he also conned Al Capone?” I’d done my due diligence and looked him up after Davis Pinter had pointed out the phony name.

  “I’m aware.” Malone’s blue eyes were so dilated they looked black.

  Okay, so not a good time for a history lesson.

  The doorbell rang. “You two stay put.” Malone jabbed his finger at us.

  It was the two officers he’d sent to check the neighborhood. “Nothing. Do you want us to go door to door?”

  “Nah.” Malone shook his head. “He won’t stick around here. Make sure the night crew is on the watch for him though.”

  Verdi jumped up abruptly and pushed past Malone. “But don’t shoot him.” She grabbed one officer’s blue-clad arm. “My brother’s not armed, and he didn’t do anything. Please don’t shoot him.” Her voice broke on the last word.

  Malone led her back to the couch. “We have no intention of shooting your brother.” He turned back to the two policemen. “You can go.”

  They opened the door to leave, and that’s when things got even more crazy.

  Several men in dark suits pushed through the doorway past the two officers.

  Wait a minute. I knew these guys. It was the G-men from our trip to Huntington Beach. I felt my cheeks get warm as I remembered how I’d been dressed the last time they’d seen me. Suddenly, my yoga pants and sweatshirt seemed like a great fashion choice.

  This time Agent I’m-Too-Serious-For-Myself Milner wasn’t focused on anyone else in the room. He was completely one hundred and twenty percent focused on Detective Malone.

  “What part of ‘this is a federal case’ did you not understand, Detective?” No “hello”, no “hey, what’s happening.” He went for the jugular.

  “Hello, Agent Milner.” Malone went quiet. Always a bad sign. I knew this from experience. “Maybe we could talk outside.”

  Agent Milner’s stance said he was still on alert, but he seemed to become aware of the tension in the room. He scanned the crowd. His eyes lighted on Verdi and me, still parked on the couch.

  I could see the moment recognition dawned.

  “Oh, hell.” He stood down. “All right, come on, Detective, let’s talk.”

  The two stepped outside, and, while we couldn’t hear the heated conversation, I got the general picture. Milner was not happ
y with Malone. Malone was no happier with the way the evening had gone than I was.

  I’d tried to help by having Verdi call Malone, but had only made things worse by giving Eugene the opportunity to get away.

  I know you can’t tell if a person is a murderer from talking with them. If you could, police departments around the nation would be able to cut down their case loads, there’d be no need for fancy forensics and we’d all be a lot safer. But even knowing it wasn’t that simple, I’d been convinced that Eugene wasn’t a risk. After talking to him, I was still convinced that he’d only run because he’d been scared.

  He’d been misjudged before. The system had not been his friend, and he was afraid of a repeat performance.

  Malone and Agent Milner came back inside. Agent Milner sat down in the chair across from Verdi. The same chair Eugene had occupied earlier.

  “Is there anything you didn’t tell Detective Malone?” he asked. “Anything at all?”

  “No.” Verdi whispered. “Nothing.”

  “All right.” Milner ran his palm over his face. He looked rumpled, like he’d been at it all day and all night, without time for niceties like a fresh shirt or a change of clothes. “Young lady, if you hear from your brother, you are to call me directly.” He handed Verdi a business card. “Do you understand?”

  She nodded.

  “And you,” Agent Milner turned his attention to me. “You, Ms. Lamont, are to stay out of this business entirely.” He paused. “Do you understand?”

  Any shrinking violet would have wilted under the hard stare he leveled at me. But I’m from Texas, and we’re made of sterner stuff.

  I moved forward on the couch, level with him, so I was sure he could see the determination in my eyes.

  “What I understand, Agent Milner, is that you think you can bully this poor girl who was trying to do the right thing by calling the police.” I glared at Malone and came back to Agent Milner. “I understand you also think you can bully me, who is involved in this business whether I want to be or not. And”—I paused for effect—“I understand you have taken property that belongs to me. Property I expect to be returned immediately.”