by Sparkle Abby
I flipped through my messages while Malone seated himself in one of the plum-toned leather chairs. I dropped the notes on my desk and sat down in the matching chair opposite his.
“April Mae Wooben’s gun permit checks out. The gun has not been fired recently. While it’s the same type of weapon used to shoot Ms. Bardot, it appears she uses it as a hunting rifle. Also, Ms. Wooben got a ticket for a broken tail light in Arizona the day her sister was shot.”
I could relate to the faulty broken tail light. But wow, that was a lot of information for Malone to share.
“She’s still pretty unhappy with me,” I noted.
“You did the right thing.”
“I know, but I still feel lousy about it.”
“You probably owe the older guy at the animal place an apology too,” Malone noted.
“Don Furry? Oh my.” I’d forgotten he had to be fingerprinted too. “Did you explain to Officer Hostas that I’m not a crazed killer?”
“I did, but he’s still not convinced.” There was a faint smirk at the corner of Malone’s mouth.
“How’s the investigation going otherwise?”
“Fine.”
“It sounds like April Mae inherits most of the estate. But then you probably already knew that, huh?”
“We did.”
“Any luck with the security camera footage?”
Malone didn’t answer.
“Okay, I get it. None of my business.”
He leaned forward in his chair. “Truthfully, a pretty frustrating investigation. No known enemies. The call the vic took. You said she had an emergency?”
“That’s what Kitty said, something urgent she had to take care of right away. She seemed upset.”
“She didn’t say who called?”
“No, she didn’t. Her cell phone records were no help?”
“Nope.” He stood. “I’ll be in touch.”
I gathered the files I needed for the afternoon. I’d stop by home for lunch to give Dogbert a midday break, and then I had a full afternoon. I stopped at the front desk to remind Sourpuss, I mean Sally Purser, I wouldn’t be back in the office until the next morning. She could forward anything that couldn’t wait to my cell phone.
“I see most of my clients in their own homes,” I made sure to clarify.
She didn’t even bother to hide her eye roll. “While you were with the detective, a lady called about her dog, Bitty, who her husband picks on. I told her you don’t handle animal abuse cases, and she should call animal control at the police department.”
“What?” I sputtered. The call could be the woman from the other day. Diana’s next door neighbor. “Did she leave her name?”
“She did not.”
“If she calls back, I want to talk to her. Give her my cell number.” I left before I lost my cool with the woman.
As soon as I got home and had taken care of Dogbert, I called the office management group who’d arranged the temp services. They assured me the current temp had come highly recommended. It was also what they’d said about the last one. In LaKeesha’s defense, no one had explained the process. Sourpuss was a different story; I simply thought the person taking calls, opening mail, and greeting people could be efficient and pleasant.
Okay, on to the animal issues. Sometimes easier to deal with. Make that, always easier to deal with.
I’d checked in with Nicky Chang and her misbehaving Chihuahua, and she said the exercise had already helped a lot. I left her some material about the Chihuahua temperament. She seemed willing to do what was necessary to help Sunny adjust.
Next up was Dexter, a young tan and white beagle, one of the dogs from the circus the other day in the office. I’d promised a free first consultation to everyone who’d been inconvenienced by mistakenly being told to come into the office, and I was working my way through the list.
Dexter’s family was at the end of their rope because the little guy kept running and running. He was either asleep or running, creating all kinds of disruption to the household. No one could walk inside without being tripped, and the kids couldn’t play in the yard without the beagle racing through whatever they were trying to do. Dexter was a rescue, and I loved they’d taken him on, but it was clear they hadn’t understood his need for activity and their own household’s need for quiet.
I prescribed daily exercise and play. Especially play involving smells. Beagles are all about the nose. At least once a week at the dog park should help. I also reminded them that when everyone got home from school and work, they needed to wait until Dexter had calmed down before petting him.
They were very interested in trying my suggestions. I’d do a follow-up in a couple of weeks to see how it was going, but this was one case I felt good about. The initial consultation might be the only visit really needed.
As soon as my appointments for the day were finished, I swung by Ruby Point. I wondered if Bella had heard anything back from Dr. Daniel on the frail nanny goat. Leave it to Diana to foster a sickly goat. Bella’d not heard back from the vet, but everything else with Diana’s menagerie appeared to be going well. She said Diana had called and asked to talk to Mr. Wiggles on the phone. It was clear the connection Diana felt with her pets was a mystery to the woman, but she loved Diana and had accepted that the attachment to her pets went with the territory.
I walked over to the residence next door to Diana’s. The Corvette wasn’t in the drive, but it could be in the garage. What the hey, I decided to go to the door. I pushed the bell and waited. Nothing. Counted to sixty and tried again. Still nothing.
What to do? As you’ve probably already figured out, doing nothing is dang hard for me. Bottom line, I knew what I’d seen and heard, but I was operating on suppositions. And there’s a line where your business ends and somebody else’s business begins. I’d offered the help; I would have to wait to hear from her.
I decided to run by the animal shelter and make my apologies to Don Furry and check on Zilla, Rawnsley, and the rest. Hopefully, they’d been adopted but if not, I could take them for a run. Some kind of action would be good for them and for me.
I parked and went in.
“Is Don here?” I asked Nancy, one of the volunteers.
“No, he had to go down to the police station for something, so he left early today.”
I felt guilty though I’m not sure why. Like Sam said, April Mae had left the rifle in the truck. Not me.
I checked on the status of Zilla and Rawnsley, but a couple of the other volunteers had just left for the dog park with them. They had been properly socialized with the other shelter residents, and so a run in the park would be great. They could romp and play with the other dogs. Zilla would do great with the Lab bloodlines. Rawnsley, on the other hand, could be a problem. Not in an aggressive sort of way, but in a roaming sort of way. The Great Pyrenees is a gentle breed, but as guardian dogs they’re often used to tend sheep, they like to patrol their perimeter, and the volunteers would need to keep an eye on him. The Laguna Beach Dog Park was not fenced on all sides, relying on the terrain for containment.
Of course, they knew all that. I hoped.
Okay, I’d put it off long enough. I needed to go home, clean up, and see if I could repair things with April Mae.
I’d picked up the child-sized PUP T-shirt for April Mae while I was there, stopped off for some flowers, and when I got home stirred up some kitty cookies for Tobey and Minou. Then I went next door.
The April Mae who came to the door was not the sprite I knew and loved. This was a subdued April Mae who had me wishing for the craziness of “You can call me June” days.
“Hi, Caro.” She stepped aside to let me in.
That was at least a good sign. She’d let me inside.
“These are for you.” I handed her the flowers and the T-shirt.
“And these,” I produced the plate of kitty cookies, “are for Tobey and Minou. I’m sorry.”
“Ahhh, Caro. You did what you thought you needed to do.” Her eyes filled with tears. “No apology is necessary.”
Then April Mae hugged me, and I knew things would be okay.
The next day, I was almost afraid to go into the office and find out what temp we had today. I stopped by the Koffee Klatch for my usual latte, screwed up my courage, and headed to PAWS.
We still had Sourpuss. I mean, Sally Purser. Now I’d messed with her name so often in my head, I had to be careful I didn’t say the nickname out loud. Sally P. was again not happy to see me.
I took a few minutes before I started the day to give Kendall Reese a call. Kendall was a dog-groomer at the local Divine Pet Spa and a friend. I knew Kendall’d be perfect to help April Mae with getting Tobey and Minou’s claws under control.
It was great to talk to Kendall. I hadn’t seen him since the last time I’d taken Dogbert in, and I missed his fun and flamboyant personality. I explained about April Mae and the cats and asked if he’d help.
“You got it, girlfriend!” He made me promise we’d get together soon.
I gave my word and said I’d have April Mae give him a call. Kendall was a joy. Maybe we could get together at the Dog Park. His Pomeranian, Guido, and my mutt, Dogbert. That would be fun.
I continued to smile as I walked through the lobby on the way to my morning appointments.
Sally P. appeared affronted by my good humor.
The rest of the day went quickly. I loved my work, and for the first time since Kitty’s death, I felt like things were beginning to feel normal again.
Chapter Sixteen
I had just gotten home when all of a sudden there was loud honking. I parked my car in the garage and stepped outside. April Mae had just pulled into the driveway next door.
In a Cadillac convertible. A humongous black older-model Cadillac convertible.
April Mae’s tiny arm waved like she was in a homecoming parade. (Believe me, I know. Part of Texas beauty pageant training is parade waves.)
“What do you think?” She parked the tank-like car and then jumped out all smiles. Apparently, she’d really decided to forgive me for the gun incident.
I walked toward her. What I thought was that it was one heck of a big car for such a tiny woman. Seriously, could she even see over the steering wheel?
“It’s huge.” I couldn’t think of anything else.
“I know! Don’t you just love it?”
“It’s—ah—it’s—nice.” I couldn’t destroy her obvious enthusiasm for the big tank.
“Come on over, I’ve got takeout, and I’m happy to share.” She pulled a big bag from the Shake Shack out of the backseat. “That’s where I met Johnny, the guy who was sellin’ this baby.” She patted the shiny black fender. “It was a steal.”
I sincerely hoped it really wasn’t in the literal sense, but feared it could be. There was something so pimpmobile about it.
As I’d gotten closer, I’d realized the car wasn’t the only thing different.
“Uhmm . . . April Mae,” I stammered. “What have you done with your hair?”
Her blonde locks had been smoothed and dyed in the same rosette pattern as Tobey and Minou’s fur. While the splotches and glittering were perfect on the cats, on April Mae the look could only be called bizarre.
“It’s—ah—it’s—nice.”
There I was, lying again in order to keep from crushing her child-like enthusiasm. April Mae Wooben had turned me into a pathological liar.
“Your friend, Kendall, helped me with Tobey and Minou’s nail trimmin’. Then he took me to his hairstylist, and it took hours, but Ricki was able to do this.” April Mae touched her hands to her head of Bengal fur-patterned hair. “Then Kendall took me shopping.”
My brain worked hard to assimilate the new car, the new hair, and the idea of Kendall and April Mae shopping together.
“How is Kendall?”
“He is so funny.” She giggled. “And you haven’t been honest with me, girlfriend.”
Yep, she sounded like she’d spent the day with Kendall. About what had I not been honest, I wondered. That her hair was ridiculous? That her car was a pimpmobile? That Kendall was gay?
“Kendall tells me you’re quite the detective your own self. He said when Diana Knight was arrested, you were the one who figured it out, and the police had to let her go.”
Well, it hadn’t been quite as simple as Kendall represented it, but I had put together some of the pieces of the puzzle. Unfortunately, not soon enough, and I’d found myself face to face with the killer. Which may have been why Malone was so insistent I mind my own business.
Speaking of Detective Malone.
Detective Malone and his silver Camaro rolled into the driveway and parked behind April Mae’s big black Cadillac. He got out and approached us. His walk said, “I’m bad,” with no words needed. As he got closer, the swagger slowed and his face stayed tough guy, but I could tell Malone was as distracted by April Mae’s hair as I was. It was like a train wreck. You couldn’t look away.
“June . . . ah, ma’am.” He apparently had decided to give up on what to call her. “We’ve been given some information from the Los Angeles Police Department about a complaint that your sister and three other publicists filed. They had received death threats.”
“Oh, no. Somebody threatened Sissy?”
“We believe that’s the case, and we’re working cooperatively with the LAPD. The other three received additional threats after the complaint was filed. Did you see anything in your sister’s mail? Any unusual correspondence? Letters with foreign postmarks?”
“I don’t think so.” April Mae placed a finger on her cheek as she thought, and I realized Kendall’s stylist had also provided a manicure. April’s very long nails, dare I say “claws”, had been polished a deep gleaming black.
I felt guilty. I’d been the one who’d facilitated the relationship.
“We can look if you want.” She headed toward the front door. “Come on.”
Detective Malone shrugged and then came as called. I trailed behind, my curiosity winning out.
She held open the door, and we ducked in. Tobey and Minou greeted April Mae and then came to greet us brushing against our legs. I reached down to pet both cats. Gorgeous fur. I looked back at April Mae. A better look for them than for her.
“I couldn’t open Sissy’s mail. I mean, it’s not addressed to me, and even though she was my sister, I didn’t really know her.” She disappeared into the kitchen but kept talking. “It just didn’t seem right. So I’ve just been saving it. The lawyer’s been payin’ all the bills, and so I guess I thought maybe at some point he might need some of the other mail.”
She walked out from the kitchen carrying a laundry basket full of unopened mail.
Oh wow.
“I’ve got to run home and let Dogbert out, but then I can come back over and help sort if you like,” I offered.
“Sure, Caro hon, that would be spiffy.” April Mae grinned as she settled herself on the couch with a handful of envelopes. “Here, detective, you can sit right here by me.” She patted the cushion beside her.
“The mail will need to go down to the station. The forensics team can go through it, and they’ll be able to preserve any fingerprints if we find anything.” Malone had on his serious face. “I’ll bring the remainder back when they’re done.”
“Oh.” April Mae’s disappointment was clear. I wasn’t sure whether it had more to do with missing out on any clues or not getting to enjoy close quarters with Malone.
Detective Malone picked up the laundry basket, held it out for April Mae to add the envelopes she held, and then headed toward the door. He turned back to look at me.
>
“Caro, can I see you outside for a moment.”
“Sure.” We stepped into the afternoon heat.
“It’s about the car.” He indicated the black Cadillac.
“What about the car?” It was crazy huge, but I was pretty sure street legal.
“Did April or June or whatever the hell the woman’s name is, tell you where she bought the car?”
“Yes, she said it was some guy she met at the Shake Shack. Let me think.” Maybe the car really was stolen. “I believe she said the guy’s name was Johnny something.”
“That’s what I thought. Johnny the Hood. The dingbat has bought a car from the mob.” He set the laundry basket on the ground and opened his trunk.
“There’s no mob in Laguna Beach.”
“The hell there’s not.” Malone placed the basket of mail in his trunk and slammed the lid.
“Johnny the Hood and his associates, Mike the Knife and Shotgun Sal, have been a problem around here for years.” Malone’s jaw was handsomely unshaven, and he rubbed it in agitation. “We’ve got all kinds of files on them, but we only seem to be able to get the low-level patsies.”
Mob, patsies, crazy mobster names. I felt like I’d been dropped in an Al Capone movie. An Al Capone movie that had been turned into a sit-com.
Only Malone wasn’t finding any of this amusing. His crossed arms and legs apart stance let me know this was not the time to try to lighten the mood.
“Okay, so if there is organized crime here in Laguna Beach—” He started to interrupt, but I put my hand up. “Just let me finish, sugar.”
He stopped but still looked none too happy.
“Where’s the harm in April Mae buying a car from them?” I truly couldn’t see the problem. So far as I could tell, they hadn’t tried to recruit her, they hadn’t tried to kill her. If anything, much like me, they probably felt like protecting her. Like a small defenseless kitten, she brought that out in folks.
