4 Yip/Tuck

by Sparkle Abbey

  Of course I did. I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “How’d you get it?”

  “Do you know who it belongs to?”

  I’d read enough mystery books to know he already knew, no sense in evading his question. “Tova Randall.”

  “How do you know it belongs to Tova?”

  “She wore it last night at the party.”

  He dropped the jewelry into a small baggie then returned it to his pocket. “Thanks.”

  “Any news on how he died?”

  He picked up a pink birthday hat. “Nothing solid.”

  “When I felt for a pulse, I noticed he was wearing a dog leash.”

  He didn’t blink, just stood there. Like a very irritated cop. The party hat in his hand only made him look more dangerous.

  “And,” he prompted.

  I walked over to the green leads I’d restocked last night. “I’m almost positive it was this one.” I traded the lead for the hat.

  “Do you track who you’ve sold these to?”

  “Sort of. I can tell how many I’ve sold, when and if they paid by credit card, cash, or check. If they paid by credit card or check, I can find out who purchased one.”

  “Do you remember who you sold one too recently?”

  “I sold one to Jack O’Doggle last week.”

  “Anyone else?”

  “I can print a list.” I headed for the office.

  “Hold on. I have an appointment. Pull your records. Do not do anything other than bring them to me. In person. Not by email. Got it?”

  “Sure.”

  We both knew I’d study the list before I handed it over. I couldn’t help it. I was naturally curious. Malone considered me unnaturally nosey. The problem was, he needed me.

  It was a heady feeling, knowing I had something he wanted. I liked it.

  AFTER A BUSY DAY of dodging questions and hand-selling Ava’s new line of doggie clothing, Missy and I happily settled into a quiet night at home. Missy snored in her bed while I sipped my favorite cabernet curled up on the couch.

  I checked my cell for the hundredth time, making sure I hadn’t missed Grey’s call. To the outside world, Grey was out of town on a business trip for his art gallery, ACT (which stood for Art Crime Team). In reality, he was in Chicago working on an art fraud case for the FBI.

  Obviously, he couldn’t share details, but it came down to this: someone lied about something they stole to cheat another party out of their property. That’s white-collar crime according to the FBI. (Seriously, it’s on their website.)

  I set my wine on the end table next to my cell. I’d almost forgotten the list of customer names I’d brought home—people who’d bought one of the deadly green leashes recently.

  I quickly retrieved it from my bag then returned to the seat, pulled the blanket off the back of couch, and tossed it over my legs.

  I studied the names on the depressingly long list. Fifteen identifiable customers out of twenty-five sales. The rest had paid cash. Right there in black and white was Jack O’Doggle, the only name I recognized. Malone had his work cut out for him. Was someone on this list a killer?

  My cell rang. My heart skipped a beat when I saw it was Grey. “Hey.” I tried to sound like I wasn’t sitting by the phone waiting for his call. Which I wasn’t. Really.

  “Hi. Are you home?” he asked.

  “You bet. Curled up on the couch. How about you? Back at the hotel?”

  “Not yet. Soon. Things didn’t go as planned. I may not be home for few more days.”

  He sounded tired. If I could see his face, I could read what he wasn’t saying. “But you’re safe?”

  “I’m fine.” After a brief pause he asked, “What’s going on?”

  Here’s the deal—with Grey, it was best to just spit out the facts. In his line of work, word got around fast when his fiancée found another dead body.

  “First, I’m fine. Honestly. Darby, I, and the dogs, we’re all fine.”

  “Mel, stop stalling. What’s going on?”

  “Well, Darby and I found Dr. O’Doggle dead in front of Bow Wow. We called Detective Malone, and he’s on the case.”

  A heavy sigh rushed into my ear. It was the sigh that went hand and hand with him rubbing his head in frustration. “What do you mean by ‘found?’”

  I gave him the low down, and he grunted his disbelief. “I’m glad you’re okay. Be careful. A customer was possibly murdered in front of your shop. Keep your eyes open and stay aware of your surroundings. What did Malone have to say?”

  “You know Malone. He keeps everything to himself. Speaking of keeping things to themselves. Caro stole my brooch from Glitter.”

  Grey sighed again. Only this time with exasperation. “Mel.”

  “I know. It’s payback from when I got to Glitter first and convinced Zane I’d return it to Caro, but you’d think they’d have learned their lesson and made sure they returned the pin to the person who brought it into the store.”

  “Technically, Caro brought it into the store first.”

  “That was then. To have it cleaned. I’m talking about now. When I dropped it off for an appraisal. Big difference.”

  “Have you talked to Caro yet?”

  “You know we’re not talking. What you really want to know is if I’ve come up with a plan to get it back.”

  “No. That’s not what I was asking. Look, I have to go. I have a meeting, and I can’t be late. Promise me, if you see anything out of the norm, you’ll call the police. I should be home by Sunday at the latest.”

  “I promise. Keep safe. I love you.” I worked hard to keep the concern out of my voice. I hated this part of his job.

  “Be good and don’t pick fights. Love you, too,” he said before disconnecting.

  Notice I didn’t promise anything about not fighting.

  Chapter Eight

  I HADN’T slept well. I’d dreamt that a UPS truck dropped off a shipment of green leashes, and I had to sort them in alphabetical order by buyer, which then somehow morphed into Grey, gun drawn, chasing a crazed painter who wore a white beret and a handlebar mustache (very creepy) down the back alleys of Chicago.

  After a quick bowl of Cap’n Crunch, I slipped on my favorite True Religion jeans, a pet-themed T-shirt (today’s read, “It’s all fun and games until someone’s wearing a cone”), and boots. I walked Missy around the block so she could do her business.

  I decided to leave her home today. The shop was bound to be crazy. Dr. O’Doggle’s death was all over the news, including the part about the dog leash and dropping dead at Bow Wow’s doorstep. You gotta love the media.

  Once Missy was settled, I grabbed my jacket and headed to the police station to give Malone the list of names. I parked in front of the building and walked inside. The uniformed clerk at the front desk looked up. I recognized her from the last time I had been there, the day Malone had brought Darby in for questioning.

  The clerk was a tiny wisp of a woman—all blonde hair, uniform, and gun. I sold dog bowls heavier than her. Since she was armed, I kept most of my smart-alecky comments to myself.

  “What can I do for you?” She sized me up.

  Did I mention she was all business?

  I flashed my trustworthy smile. “Detective Malone asked me to drop off some information.”

  She cocked a blonde eyebrow at me. “What kind?”

  “A list of names. It’s in regards to Dr. O’Doggle’s death.”

  “Hold on.” She picked up the phone. “Melinda Langston is here with information about the O’Doggle case.” She eyed me. “Will do.”

  “He’ll be right here. How’s your cousin?”

  Well, hell. She remembered me. And Caro. “Peachy. Just peachy.”

  Malone appeared in his T-shirt and jeans. “You’re out early.”

  “Good morning to you too, sunshine. I brought you the list.” I waved the paper in the air. “I have good news and not so good news.”

  He snatched it from my outstretched hand. “I�
��d prefer you didn’t have any news.”

  Undeterred, I continued, following him to his office. “The good news is that Darby’s name is nowhere on that list. Just in case you’re still suspicious of her since the last murder.”

  “That is good news.”

  “The bad news is I sold twenty-five green leads in the last six months, and only half paid with a check or credit card.”

  We stopped in front of his office. “Do you have addresses?”

  “Of course.”

  Here’s the thing about Malone’s office. It’s barely big enough for Thumbelina, not a man over six-feet. He sat behind his desk, and I took the tan plastic chair opposite him. It was my only option.

  “Is that stain new?” I pointed at the large brown spot under the garbage can.

  He didn’t look amused or interested in discussing the cleanliness of his office. Apparently, he was all business today, too.

  “My inventory system is down. I was lucky to get this much. I can put together a list of phone numbers and addresses and drop it off later today. Would that work?” I asked.

  “You’re not getting any wild ideas are you, Ms. Langston?”

  “Don’t you think it’s time you started calling me Mel? Even Melinda’s better than Ms. Langston.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  He was warming up to me. “Ideas about what? Calling me by my first name?”

  “Helping me.”

  I gave him a wide grin. “I just helped you.”

  “You know what I mean. Don’t poke your nose in police business. If you think of something that might be important, call me. Failing to cooperate with an investigation is a crime. Don’t try and sleuth it out yourself.”

  I held out my hands, palms up. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “It’s not your dreams I’m concerned with. You got lucky last time. You could have been killed.”

  Blah, blah blah. I was well acquainted with the current song and dance. “I don’t have a dog in this fight. I only got involved last time because you refused to believe Darby was innocent.”

  Malone leaned back in chair, daring me to argue. “I go where the evidence takes me.”

  I got the feeling that might lead toward Tova. I stood. “Sometimes the evidence points to an innocent person.”

  FROM THE moment I flipped the open sign at Bow Wow, there was a steady stream of customers. Most of them were in the market for gossip and not pet accessories. Except when it came to the green leather leads. Suddenly, everyone wanted one. I loved my customers, but sometimes they were a little over the top, even for me.

  In the midst of all the craziness, I’d forgotten about my last phone call with Dr. O. The second Tova’s assistant, Stacie, rushed into the shop, I remembered. Kiki’s boots were stashed under the counter. Oh, boy. I needed to deliver those to Tova. Not that Tova would be in the mood for the delivery. I regretted not giving her the gift last night.

  “Mel, tell me this is just a bad dream,” she begged, her eyes red-rimmed.

  I was pretty sure she hadn’t been crying over her poor choice in fashion. Someone needed to do the girl a favor and tell her skinny jeans and a body-hugging tunic weren’t a good wardrobe choice for someone with the muscle definition of a Ukrainian bodybuilder.

  As much as I’d love to tell her what she wanted to hear, the crime scene tape stuffed in the public trashcan in front of my store would suggest otherwise. Plus, Dr. O’s death had made national headlines before noon.

  I guided her away from the small group of customers so we could have a semblance of privacy.

  “The reporter on TV said Jack’s death was undetermined. Have you heard anything?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “How’s Tova?” I asked.

  “I just came from her place. She’s distraught. I don’t know what to do.”

  I remembered everything Darby had gone through not that long ago. It had been tough. A couple of times I’d been worried about leaving her alone. Not that I thought she’d harm herself, but because she was terrified of going to jail. It was rough. “Just be there for her. She’ll let you know what she needs.”

  She leaned closer, her brows furrowed. “I think Tova’s in a lot of trouble, Mel. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but that detective questioned her.”

  “I didn’t know.” But I wasn’t surprised.

  “He questioned both of us. I happened to be at her place when he arrived. Tova’s convinced the cops believe she was involved with Jack’s death. Why else would they come to her house?”

  “That’s normal. Those closest to the vict . . . deceased are the first people the police talk to. It doesn’t always mean anything other than the police are doing their job. What kind of questions did they ask?”

  She rubbed the back of her hand. “How well Tova and Jack got along? Have they been fighting? When was the last time I saw Jack? Where was I last night?”

  I twitched with curiosity. I wanted to know too. “They seemed like a normal dating couple.”

  “They were more than dating. They were talking about marriage.”

  My jaw hit the floor. “Are you kidding me? I didn’t realize they were serious.”

  “If it wasn’t for Kiki, Jack would have already proposed. He doesn’t like dogs.”

  What kind of person hates dogs? My opinion of Dr. O’Doggle plummeted. Although, I was suddenly confused. “Then why was he always buying Kiki gifts?”

  She rubbed the top of her hand again, nervously. “Tova told him she and Kiki were a package deal. He tried to be nice with Kiki, but she sensed it was all an act. Kiki bit him a last week. Jack and Tova had a huge fight, and she kicked him out. He was trying to get back into Tova’s good graces.”

  By kissing up to Kiki? That explained the booties.

  Kiki was one of the most well-behaved dogs I knew. At least, I’d thought she was. What had Jack O’Doggle done to her to make her lash out? Or had he done something to Tova? Either way, once Malone learned all this, it wouldn’t be good for Team Tova.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  “About Jack?” She practically spit out his name.

  I nodded.

  Her hazel eyes narrowed. “He saw Tova as someone to trot around like arm candy while he broke her heart. He didn’t love her the way she deserved.”

  I stepped back. I wasn’t expecting such animosity. If what Stacie believed was true, Tova could be in trouble.

  “Does she have a lawyer?” I asked softly.

  Stacie blinked rapidly. “Not a criminal lawyer.” She started to reach out to me and then thought better. “Why? Do you think she needs one? That’s going to fall to me isn’t it? I’m her assistant. Somehow, that’s going to be my job.” She looked ready to burst at the seams with anxiety.

  I patted her hand awkwardly. I pulled back slowly, surprised at how rough her skin felt. No wonder she’d been rubbing it.

  She covered the back of her hand. “I’m getting over a case of poison ivy.”

  Great. I needed to wash my hands. Where was that bottle of antibacterial hand cleanser I’d just bought?

  “I’m not contagious,” she reassured me.

  Right. “Look, I’m sure everything will work out.”

  Notice I didn’t assure her it would be okay. In my experience, this type of situation always got worse before it ever got better. I had a strong feeling this time wouldn’t be an exception. Dr. O was dead, and if the red marks on his neck could talk, I’m sure they’d scream, “Stop. You’re killing me.”

  The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced, Jack O’Doggle was murdered.

  I was also convinced, in spite of what she said, I needed to wash my hands.

  Chapter Nine

  A LITTLE AFTER one, Darby and Fluffy stopped by as I finished ringing up the last customer, a tall blonde with a wide smile. Snob dog, Fluffy, refused to greet me, walking directly toward my office in search of Missy’s bed. Darby, dressed in an adorable Jersey knit dress
and flats, waited by the dog carriers until I finished.

  “I hope Callie enjoys her Christmas sweater.” I handed a blue Bow Wow bag to the blonde. Callie was her beautiful Weimaraner. Weimies are a loyal and loving breed. Watching the two browse through the store, it was easy to tell they were soul mates.

  “It’s perfect for the east coast,” she said happily.

  “Too bad you had to fly all the way out to southern California to find it,” I teased.

  She held up the bag. “I’ll send you a picture of her wearing it. Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas,” I called out as she left.

  Darby made her way to the counter. “She seemed nice.”

  I nodded. “She’s visiting family for the holidays. Doesn’t go anywhere without her four-legged kid.”

  Darby tucked blonde curls behind her ear. “Speaking of visiting relatives for Christmas, didn’t you promise Mitch you’d go home for the holidays?”

  Mitch was my brother. Home was Dallas. Mitch recently got married. He and his new bride, Nikki, promised my parents they’d come home for Christmas. He badgered me to agree to the same.

  “I didn’t specify what Christmas,” I hedged.

  “Mel,” she scolded.

  “Don’t even bother to try and make me feel guilty. I’m immune.”

  I lied. A tiny twinge of shame pinched an itty-bitty corner of my heart. My parents still lived in the house we’d grown up in. Sometimes I missed it and the wide-open spaces. And then I remembered Mama and Daddy still lived there—together.

  Daddy loved Mama more than a person probably should. She was bossy, manipulative, and demanding. But Daddy, well, he was convinced she had a heart somewhere underneath all that scheming and plotting. As for me, I knew better. But that didn’t mean I didn’t love her. She was my mama.

  I changed the subject. “Stacie dropped by this morning. Malone’s already made his rounds to Tova’s place.”

  Darby frowned. “I know what that’s like.”