Paws For Death

by Susan Union

  Her mother offered up what was left in her plastic water bottle and the woman accepted. Maybe she’d be more hospitable now that her Dalmatian wasn’t going to die of dehydration. Randi tried again. “We’re looking for a dog. Zoom. Gina Thorton’s dog.”

  “Oh, yes.” The woman frowned. “I saw what happened. Some of them never recover from the death of a loved one, you know.”

  Her mother took the empty bottle back. “That’s why we’re trying to find him.”

  “Have you tried the massage tent?”

  “Of course! A massage. Why didn’t I think of that? It’s the least Steve could do for Zoom after what the poor dog’s been through.”

  The massage tent, set up at the east end of the fairgrounds, away from the hubbub of the agility scene, turned out to be a portable trailer. The two front windows were closed and the whir of portable fans seeped from inside.

  In front of the trailer, a man sipping a Starbucks flashed a lazy smile while his mint-chocolate eyes, skin only a shade or two lighter, took their sweet time looking the both of them over. Braided dreadlocks hung over his shoulders. From the way his shirt hugged his body, Randi would have bet her bottom dollar if he tore it off, buttons popping, there’d be some serious guns and a set of six-pack abs underneath.

  So, this was Gina’s rival and her mother’s dog trainer? Something overtly aggressive about his manner made Randi not want to get too close.

  Copeland stood. “Tragic what happened to Gina. I’m still in shock. How are you holding up, Lee Ann?”

  Despite the heavy topic, Copeland’s voice had a bouncy reggae lilt, ready for a party on a moment’s notice.

  He and Lee Ann stared at each other for longer than normal. “About as well as can be expected, I guess. Steve, this is my daughter, Randi.”

  She shook his hand, but when she went to let go, Copeland didn’t. He held her eyes with the kind of intensity that shot out a beam of interest, just to see if anything might bounce back. The man was a dangerous cocktail. She’d drank from that well before and got herself into serious trouble. “We’re looking for Zoom.”

  Copeland twitched. His eyebrows were thick and dark, arched perfectly and in just the right spot to highlight the expression in his eyes and making her wonder if he plucked them.

  “Do you have Gina’s dog, Mr. Copeland? We’d like to take him home.”

  “Call me Steve, and the dog is safe.”

  Her mother set Jojo on the ground. “We came to get him.”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean, no?”

  “You can’t have him.”

  Her mother cleared her throat. “Steve, Gina was my longtime friend. Zoom’s my responsibility now.”

  Bravo, Mom. Way to step up to the plate.

  “I do have a heart, you know, and I understand why you might feel that way,” another smile played at the corners of Copeland’s lips, “but it’s misguided.”

  Her mother hooked Jojo’s leash around her thumb and put her hands on her hips. “No more games, Steve.” She peered over Copeland’s shoulder. “Give us the dog.”

  He collected his dreads and pulled them behind his head, beads clattering. “Here’s the thing, Lee Ann. All is not as it appears. True, I was Gina’s adversary and we were extremely competitive in the ring as anyone will attest, but I assure you, no matter what Gina’s redneck brother says, I’m the one who’s best suited to care for Zoom.”

  Randi stepped forward. “Andrew said you had a stroke of luck today, and with Gina out of the picture, the remaining spot on the U.S. team belongs to you.”

  “I’ve been doing this sport for fifteen years. Gina not even half that.”

  Her mother bristled. “Are you saying Gina didn’t deserve it?”

  “Tell Andrew Thorton I’m keeping the dog. Have a pleasant day, ladies.” He disappeared inside the trailer, shutting the door behind him.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Randi kept her foot on the brake, waiting for traffic to clear on El Camino Real. Shane, half his body in the front seat—paws on the center console—the rest of him in the back, remained fixated on the windshield, as if trying to help gauge the flow of traffic.

  Her mother put an elbow on Shane’s chest. “In the back, big guy.”

  He huffed himself onto the rear seat. A grumpy heap of fur.

  A space opened up between cars. Randi punched it and slid into the available position. Her truck was big and the fit was tight. Such a dicey move normally would have brought a squawking protest from her mother, but she had her eyes closed, head resting on the seat.

  “I don’t have any food at home, and I don’t feel like a grocery run, so we’ll hit Kira’s for dinner. She’s been wanting to meet you, and since you don’t get out to San Diego that often…”

  Her mother groaned. “I’m not in the mood to be sociable, hon, and I have zero appetite. Go without me.”

  After a quick stop to feed the dogs, Randi managed to talk her mother into coming to dinner. Lack of hunger and her protests aside, Randi had the feeling she didn’t want to be left alone.

  ****

  Even in June, when the marine layer refused to budge for weeks along the coast, making it impossible to tell if it was ten in the morning or three in the afternoon, people flocked to Kira’s oceanfront restaurant. Tonight was no exception. The parking lot of The Surf & Stirrup overflowed. The combination of a primo spot on the sand and the varied menu—cheeseburgers and fries to prime rib and chicken skewers in satay sauce, and killer cocktails—made it a perpetual hot spot with everyone from young couples, singles looking to hook up, families, old folks and anyone and everyone in between.

  Randi paused outside her truck to fill her lungs with salt air. “Thanks for letting me change your mind about coming.”

  Her mother hoisted her purse strap over her shoulder. “You practically kidnapped me. Let’s get this over with.”

  Inside, cackles of alcohol-induced laughter and the clatter of silverware bounced off the ceiling. Strong perfume permeated the air. Tiki masks and surfer photos lined the walls. The hostess grabbed a couple menus and shouldered her way through the crowd to lead them to a table near the bar where they climbed onto high-backed stools.

  Settled, her mother put her napkin in her lap. “I feel horrible, hon, like I failed Gina somehow.”

  “Why?”

  “For starters, when you told me she looked funny before she went in the ring and we should go down and check on her, I said ‘no, she’ll be fine.’ If I could have at least seen or talked to her before she went on course…”

  Randi shook her head. “Even if you suspected something, you couldn’t have known how serious it was. Besides, you said wild horses couldn’t have kept Gina from kicking Steve Copeland’s ass. And she did. She and Zoom were perfect. Would you have wanted to screw that up? Knowing how much it meant to her?”

  “No.” Her mother took out a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. “Thanks, honey. I guess I just needed to hear those words.”

  “What do you think about Andrew and Valerie thinking that woman Mel might be involved?”

  “I don’t know. How, exactly?”

  Randi shrugged. “Poison?”

  “Why?”

  “Jealousy? Envy? Money? The usual reasons.”

  Her mother scratched her head. “I don’t think Gina had an enemy in the world, but one thing’s for sure, if she was poisoned, the killer is a damn coward.”

  “All killers are cowards.”

  “Poison’s worse. You don’t have to touch a gun, pull a trigger, see the blood squirt—you get to avoid all that gruesome stuff.” Her mother looked at the ceiling like she was trying to remember something. “I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to take the chicken’s way out and mix Jordan a cyanide smoothie.”

  A waitress Randi had never seen before balanced a tray above her head as she sidestepped her way toward them. Her face was pinched and her eyes red and puffy, but she forced a smile. Glossy blonde hair fell straight to
her collarbone and she wore no makeup. Above her left eye she sported a small silver ring. “What can I get you ladies to drink?”

  Randi’s mother picked up the laminated list and studied it for all of two seconds. “Mustang Mai-Tai.”

  “Mom, you may want to reconsider. The Mai-Tais here are super strong.”

  “Thanks for the warning, but I’m old enough to make up my own mind and take responsibility for my decisions.”

  Randi sighed. “Negra Modelo. With a lime, please.”

  “You got it.” The waitress disappeared into the crowd.

  Randi sipped her water. “Not to change the subject, and at the risk of sounding crass, but all this time you and Gina never discussed her social life?”

  “You mean how come I didn’t know she was a lesbian? Or bi, or whatever?”

  “Well, yeah. Seems like something you would have known.”

  Her mother fiddled with her silverware. “Hard to say. When we were young girls, Gina was always off modeling somewhere—south of France, northern Italy, Singapore, Tahiti—then boom, fast forward and here we are—older. We missed the age where you discuss your sex life in detail with your best friend. It was different back then anyway—no cell phones, no Internet. Long-distance calling wasn’t cheap. If you lost contact with someone, you lost it—period. And Gina traveled so much for a while there, we did lose touch.”

  “She never mentioned Mel to you?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe she did and you don’t remember?”

  “Definitely not.” Lee Ann shook her head. “The name would have stuck.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because, Mel is the name your father and I almost gave you. Well, Melanie, that is.”

  “Oh.” All these years. This was the first she’d heard of it. “Why’d you pick Miranda instead?”

  “It suited your personality. Melanie reminded me of milquetoast Melanie Wilkes from Gone with the Wind, my favorite movie of all time, you know. You were stronger than Melanie’s character, but your father wouldn’t let me name you Scarlett. Miranda was our compromise.”

  Randi smiled. “Scarlett. I like the sound of that” Maybe if I ever have a daughter…She clamped her lips together. That thought would stay private. “What does Miranda mean?”

  “It’s Latin. Worthy of admiration, at least that’s what your father told me.”

  “Better than milquetoast. No offense to all the Melanies out there.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about offending them. The personality interpretation is only my opinion. Besides, Melanie was actually stronger than Scarlett in a lot of ways.”

  Randi wasn’t sure how to take that comment, seeing as her mother had kyboshed calling her Melanie, but she was too worn out to debate the issue.

  Cameron, Kira’s bartender, caught Randi’s eye and nodded as he poured an amber stream of beer into a pewter mug. He wore formfitting T-shirts that clung to his washboard abs, attributing his toned physique to his morning ritual of swimming in La Jolla Cove. Swimming, he said, was all the exercise he needed, but Randi guessed, with the way he looked and the amount of women he met at the bar, Cameron partook in far more strokes than the butterfly.

  Her mother looked around the restaurant. “Where’s Kira?”

  “Probably in back. I’ll text her and let her know we’re here.”

  “What’s she look like?”

  “Like the St. Pauli girl. That’s the best way I can describe her.”

  “Who’s the St. Pauli girl?”

  “You know, the German fraulein on the beer bottles. Blonde, boobs, the works.”

  “I don’t drink beer.”

  “Good to know you haven’t gone totally blue-collar.”

  That brought a smile. “I agree.”

  The waitress returned with the drinks. Randi ordered a turkey burger, her mother regular cow, both with fries.

  “Wow,” the waitress said, “it got warm in here, don’t you think?” She took off her sweater. Pinned to her shirt was the name tag all Kira’s new people wore until the regulars had it down cold.

  Randi stared until the waitress caught her. “Your food will be up shortly.” She tied the arms of her sweater around her waist and walked away.

  “Mom, did you see her name?”

  “No. Why?”

  “It’s Mel.”

  Her mother took a slug of her Mai Tai and grimaced like she’d just bitten into a kumquat.

  “Are you making a face for your drink or for the name tag?” Randi asked.

  “What?”

  “Mel! Think it’s a coincidence?”

  “Only fools and dead people believe in coincidence, Randi.”

  “What?”

  “I read that somewhere. Anyway, she seems flustered, for sure.”

  They made small talk until a runner appeared with the food. French fries spilled from the baskets and onto the table. Randi picked one up, letting it dangle, using it to make her point. “Valerie mentioned their son manages the family business in OKC.”

  “Gina’s nephew, Dusty. Nice kid.” Her mother polished off her Mai Tai without making any more faces. “He’s a little younger, but when I met him, I thought you two would match up nicely. He seems like your type.”

  Oh, no. Not again. “How much younger?”

  “Twenty-one, twenty-two?”

  “Uh…no thanks.”

  “Keep being so picky and you’ll never catch a man.”

  “I’m fine with that.”

  Her mother raised an eyebrow.

  “No, I’m not a lesbian. What’s the family biz? Do you know?”

  “Dusty manages their nightclub. Remember, I told you Gina helped them get it up and running a couple years ago?”

  “Oh yeah. I forgot.”

  Her mother put down her burger and put on a smile, eyes glued to the front of the restaurant. “Luke just walked in.”

  Randi wiped the ketchup off her mouth. “With Barbra?”

  “No. Two people. An older couple.”

  Whew. She was not in the mood for Barbra. Ever, really. Especially not now. “What do they look like?”

  “She’s tall, he’s not.”

  “Red hair? He’s bald?”

  Her mother nodded.

  “Well dressed?”

  “Impeccably.”

  “That’ll be the Geysers. They’ve got a spread in Montana and a breeding farm close to the mountains east of here in Julian. Dot-comers. More money than God.”

  “Luke is heading this way.”

  “By himself?”

  “Yes.”

  Seconds later he was at their table. He’d showered and changed since Randi last saw him. She hadn’t done either. In fact, what she’d thought was ketchup on her shirt turned out to be the filly’s blood.

  Luke leaned down and pecked her mother’s cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

  “You did everything you could, Luke. Thank you.” She fished through her purse, pulled out a couple of twenties and put them on the table. She gave Randi’s arm a pat. “This should cover the bill, hon. Can I have the keys?”

  “To my truck?”

  “Of course to your truck.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve got to make some calls. Too loud in here. You two take your time. Come out when you’re ready.”

  “But you haven’t met Kira.”

  “I’m sure we’ll be back. That Mai-Tai was outstanding.” Her mother slipped through the crowd and out the door before Randi could stop her.

  “She’s right,” Luke said.

  “About the Mai-Tais?”

  “It’s too loud in here.” He nodded toward the rear of the restaurant. “Let’s go outside.”

  Randi’s neck muscles tightened. What did he want to talk about? Had she done something wrong when she treated the filly? Maybe he wanted to talk some more about Gina.

  Luke laid his hand on the small of her back, creating a warm spot, and propelled her around the bar. A move like that usu
ally signaled urgency. He stopped short at the Emergency Exit sign.

  “It’s not wired,” she said. “Kira put the sign up to discourage dine-and-dashers.”

  They slipped into the cool of the evening and walked into the alley, away from the dumpsters.

  Luke pushed the brim of his baseball cap up. “How’d the call go this morning?”

  She relaxed. If he was asking, he hadn’t heard anything bad. She filled in the details of treating the filly, ending with, “I dropped off some notes for you at the office. Didn’t Mrs. Fowler tell you?”

  “No.”

  “I’m not surprised. She doesn’t like me.”

  “Don’t take it personally. She doesn’t like anybody.”

  “She likes you, but not enough to do her job.”

  “If I fired her, she’d have nothing to live for.”

  “It’s kind of you to keep a secretary who isn’t.” She smiled to show she didn’t mean to be flippant.

  Luke shoved his hands in his back pockets. “How’s your mother?”

  “Okay, considering, but keep in mind, she’s from the South. They have a tendency to bury feelings that aren’t all sunshine and roses.”

  Luke looked at the ground and pushed aside some gravel with the side of his boot. “Gina was completely unresponsive to CPR. I’ve never felt so helpless.”

  The back door burst open with a bang. Kira’s bright blonde head filled the opening. Her eyes sparkled. “Sorry to interrupt, guys. Cameron saw you sneaking out here.” She grinned, winking at Randi. “Luke, the Geysers are asking for you.”

  “Thanks, Kira. I’ll be right there.”

  The way he said it made Randi think he wasn’t quite done with her.

  The door clicked shut.

  Luke put a hand on Randi’s shoulder. “Let me cook for you and your mom tomorrow night.”

  She hesitated.

  “I don’t bite. Come at seven. You don’t have to bring anything, just yourselves.”

  What will Barbra think? It was ridiculous the way she ran to Luke every time one of her Saddlebreds stumbled or, God forbid, let out a cough. Barbra won’t like me being at Luke’s house, not one bit. “Okay. Sure. Seven o’clock.”