Grey reached the car while I was still skittering downhill in four-inch heels. I could see there was someone inside, their head on the steering wheel.
“Call for help,” Grey called out.
I trudged back up the hill, further ruining my shoes. I pulled my cell out of Grey’s SUV and called 9-1-1. I spouted all the information I knew and ended the call.
“An ambulance is on the way,” I called out. I lost my balance and slid down the hill, barely managing to keep upright. I tottered to Grey’s side.
“Are they okay?” I asked.
The driver’s door was open. He crouched next to a woman, assessing her injuries. Under the glow of her car’s interior light I realized she looked familiar.
I gasped recognizing the redhead. “Gwen?”
She rolled her head, looking in my direction. “He tried to kill me,” she whispered.
“Who?” Grey asked.
She blinked a few times, trying to focus on our faces.
“It’s going to be okay. Hang in there. Help is on the way,” Grey’s deep voice seemed to sooth her.
He stood, stepping back out of her earshot. “I’ve got a first aid kit. Keep her calm.”
The night air chilled my bare arms. I rubbed them in an attempt to keep warm. “Can you grab a blanket, too?”
He charged back to his car while I returned to our injured murder suspect.
I bent next to her. “You said someone tried to kill you. Who?”
She looked confused. “I told him not to do it. But he wouldn’t listen to me.”
I guessed she was talking about Dr. O’Doggle. “Did you send his patients to another doctor?”
“We were going to lose everything. Appearance matters in our world. We were going to be a joke. No one wants a facelift by a drag queen.” She raised her hand to her head. When she pulled it back, it was covered in blood. “Am I going to die?”
“I think you’ll be okay.” Grey was back with a towel and a plaid flannel blanket. I covered Gwen with the blanket. He held out the towel to her. “Hold this against your head. You’re going to have a nasty headache.”
“I already do,” she mumbled.
Faint sirens in the distance slowly grew louder. I tried to reassure her. “You’ll be out of here in no time.”
“I didn’t kill him,” she said.
That’s what they all say. “We’ll talk later,” I said.
A police cruiser and an ambulance pulled up. We stepped away and let the paramedics do their work. It sounded like Grey was right, and Gwen was going to be okay.
Once we were back in the Mercedes and headed toward home, Grey released the emotions building since before dinner. It was about to get ugly.
“That is why I want you to back off this case,” he practically shouted. The muscles in his neck pushed against his white collar.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Of course, I am. That could have been you. We don’t know who’s stalking her. That person may want you out of the picture, too.”
“She has a head injury. She could have been talking about some maniac with road rage.”
Deep down, neither of us believed it.
“I’ll talk to Malone first thing tomorrow,” I promised.
It was one promise I wasn’t looking forward to keeping.
Chapter Twenty-Three
FACING GREY HAD been much easier than facing Malone. Especially when he came looking for me and not the other way around. My only saving grace was that Betty was with me. She was in her usual silk pajamas, pearls, and white sneakers. Today her eyebrows were jungle red. Perfect for keeping Malone off balance.
The minute Betty noticed the good-looking detective, she sauntered up next to him and wiggled her lipstick eyebrows. “Hey there, hot stuff, you’re an attractive man. Do you have a girlfriend?”
Malone shoved his hands into the pockets of his black leather jacket. “Melinda?”
I bit my lip, holding back my laughter. It wasn’t every day anyone made Judd Malone uncomfortable. “This is Betty. She’s helping me part-time. Betty, this is Detective Malone.”
“A detective, uh? Cookie’s taken.” She nudged him with her hip. “But I’ve got something for you to investigate.”
Malone looked like he was choking. He looked at Betty and then at me. “Can we step into your office?”
The moment of truth. I’d feel more confident if I’d worn my typical attire, but today I’d semi-dressed up. I’d traded my boots for flats, and instead of jeans and T-shirt, I’d pulled on jeans and sweater. Not a huge difference, but it was easier to be cheeky when dressed in a tee with “I’d rather be with my dog” splashed cross the front than in a Kate Spade beach sweater.
“Betty, can you hold down the fort for a few minutes?”
“Sure. But don’t get any ideas, handsome. She’s engaged to an art dealer. And he’s a hottie. Hot, hot, hot.”
“He knows all about Grey. If you need anything, we’ll just be in my office.” I motioned for Malone to follow me.
She fanned herself as Malone passed by. “Sure thing, Cookie.”
I’d made fun of the detective’s miniature office, but to be honest, mine was only a wee bit larger. We each took a chair. Since we were on my turf, I got the one behind the desk.
“I talked to your friend, Gwen, last night,” he said.
“How is she? Is she still in the hospital?”
“She spent a few hours in the ER. She’ll be okay.”
“Did she tell you about Jack and the drag queens?”
“Yes.”
“Did she tell you she was sending his patients to other doctors?”
“Yes.”
“Did she tell you about the reality show?”
“Yes.”
I settled back, basking in the power of the knowledge I held for the moment. A brief moment, but it was real, and I wanted to enjoy it. I admit, I could have found a way to tell Malone all of this myself, but what if I’d been wrong? I guess that was better than withholding information. It was time to come clean with everything I knew. “I bet she didn’t tell you Jack stole that part from David, aka Ladasha.”
He dragged his hand through his hair. “Why can’t you obey orders? I’ve made myself very clear.”
“You have. For the most part. I don’t do so well when people tell me what to do. I know, you’re different. You have the law on your side. Trust me, I know.”
“I wouldn’t know it by the way you blatantly disregard instructions to stay out of my investigation.”
I leaned forward. “If it wasn’t for me, you might not have known about Jack’s secret life as Jackie O.”
“Do I need to threaten you with jail in order to keep your nose out of police business?”
“Why can’t you just admit it? I was helpful to you. Did you talk to the ladies at the Kitty Kat Club?”
Was it my imagination, or did he blush? “Yes.”
“That reminds me. Did I tell you that Goldie Fawn bought a green lead from me?”
“No. which one was he?”
“She was Cat Woman. Her real name is Kevin. Paid with a credit card. Also, I was talking to Dr. Stolzman, and he made an interesting point. He said whoever killed Jack had to be a man.”
Malone’s intense eyes narrowed. “How’d he come up with that conclusion?”
“He said it takes a lot of strength and stamina to perform the types of surgeries they do. Jack worked out every morning. Dedicated. If he was as strong as Dr. Stolzman suggested, how could someone get the drop on him, strangle him, and him not fight back? Doesn’t that rule out all women? Did you find fingerprints? If not, does that mean the killer wore some type of glove? Ladasha wears gloves as part of her costume.”
Super Cop didn’t say a word. He stared at me with an unreadable face.
“Blink once if I’m on the right track.”
“You’ve been very helpful. But it’s time for you to step back.”
“You know I’m not a Tova fan. But I don’t
think she did it. I saw her last night, she was a mess.” I left out the part about her taking a prescription drug that didn’t belong to her. “She’s so upset about the whole situation she’s not sleeping. She’s not strong enough to carry a dog that weighs more than five pounds. There’s no way she could have choked her boyfriend.”
He rubbed his face. “I’ll tell you this much. Jack O’Doggle was killed with his own leash. We looked though his house in Balboa Island and the leash was gone. According to Tova and her assistant, the leash was kept at his place. The only prints on the leash belonged to O’Doggle.”
So whoever killed him had probably worn gloves. “That would make sense. Except according to Stacie, Jack hated dogs. She said that was one of the reasons he hadn’t proposed to Tova. Although when I asked Tova, she said Jack liked big dogs because he was afraid of stepping on Kiki. That sounds possible. Or it could all be a lie. One thing we do know—he wasn’t ready to reveal his drag queen hobby to the world. Until recently. Then he went about it underhandedly.”
“Now what are you talking about?”
“Originally, Ladasha was cast for the reality show. Then one night, Gwen followed Jack to the club and discovered his secret. She threatened to ruin his practice.”
“You have that part wrong. Gwen admitted she threatened to blackmail him. She wanted the money in case the practice folded once word got out about Dr. O’Doggle’s moonlighting.”
Gwen was a shrewd gal. “I guess Jack decided that he had no choice but to tell the world on his own terms. That’s when he auditioned for the show. Too bad the producer loved Jackie O so much that he replaced Ladasha with him.”
“Ladasha told you all of this?”
“With some details from Danny Stone.”
“Another drag queen?”
“No. The producer of the reality show. He gave me his card. I thought you’d like to talk to him.” I stood up and dug Danny’s business card from the bottom of my purse. “He also said Ladasha threatened to make Jack pay.” I handed him the contact information. “Drag queens wear gloves. Elbow-length gloves. And Gwen had said, ‘He tried to kill me.’”
“Stop talking.” He waved the card. “How did you find out about Danny Stone?”
“The drag queens. I thought you talked to them.”
“They failed to mention that part. By the way, where’d you find Betty?”
I smiled. “She found me. If you want me to set you up . . . “
He stood, ending the conversation.
“I’ll take that as a ‘No,’” I said.
On his way out the door he said, “Keep your nose clean.”
“Of course.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
DURING THE afternoon, a steady flow of customers filed through the store. Betty worked the crowd like a pro. The supply of paw-lish had evaporated since her arrival. I made a mental note to request twice the amount of stock when I reordered.
Betty finished ringing up a special order of Pooch Smooch Cologne for Luis Cruz and his long-haired dachshund, Barney.
Betty studied Barney with skepticism. “Why is he a dressed like a wiener?”
Luis enjoyed dressing his pup in a wide array of Halloween costumes, regardless the time of year. Today he was a hot dog. Last week, the tooth fairy.
Luis ran his hand through his thick black hair, looking more than a tad embarrassed. “He’s a little bloated today. It’s the only costume that fit.”
“You should put him on a diet. We have special dog food. Dr. Darling highly recommends it.” She pointed at the sad-faced hot dog drooling on the floor. “He should try it.”
I walked around the counter. “I think you look pretty good, Barney.”
Hearing his name, Barney barked and wagged his long body. I bent down and slipped him a treat, away from Betty’s watchful eye.
“Thanks, Mel. Doc said his goiter’s gone.”
“That’s good news. Betty’s actually on to something. The next time you see Dr. Darling, ask about putting Barney on a special diet. You don’t have to buy it here, but promise you’ll ask about the possibility.”
Luis nodded. “Sure, if you think so.” He took his cologne and left.
“Cookie, we’re never gonna make any money if you tell people they can shop somewhere else. I thought you were smart?”
I patted Betty’s thin arm. “How about you stop worrying about how much money I’m making?”
“It’s kinda hard when you keep locking the customers out. Or sending them to another store. I want my paycheck.”
I chuckled. “Sugar, you have a job, and a paycheck, for as long as you want one. Got it?”
She eyed me. “What about a raise?”
I loved her pluck. “If you can sell something other than nail polish, we’ll talk.”
Betty grabbed one of the extra cans of cologne. “Does he really use this?” She spritzed her arm. Immediately, the scent of coconut filled the shop. “That’s nasty. No one’s going to buy this stuff.”
“Luis did. He requested it.”
“Yeah, well, he dresses his wiener dog like a trick-or-treater. Now he’s forcing him to smell like a Piña Colada. I don’t think he’s a reliable market.” She dropped the can on the counter by the register. “You should return this and get our money back.”
The phone rang, ending the day’s business management lesson by Professor Foxx.
“Bow Wow Boutique, how can I help you?” She listened for a second, then held out the receiver. “It’s for you.”
“Thanks.” I took the cordless from her. “This is Melinda.”
“It’s Dr. Stolzman. I wanted to thank you for helping Gwen last night.”
“Of course. How is she?”
“She’s got a good-size knot on her head and a few stitches, but she’ll be okay in a couple of days.”
I noticed Betty eavesdropping. I meandered toward the dog bowls, in the opposite direction. “That’s good to hear.”
“She’s adamant someone ran her off the road.”
Not just anyone. A “he” someone. My money was on David, aka Ladasha. “That’s what she said last night. Did she get a good look at him?”
“No. It was dark and the other driver had his high beams on. She thought she saw a yellow Hummer.”
My heart dropped. Tova. But Tova was in no condition to drive last night. Was it a coincidence? Was someone setting her up to take the fall? “Is she sure about the Hummer?” I asked.
“That’s what she told the police. Look, I have a facelift scheduled in twenty minutes so I have to make this quick. This morning at the gym, I talked to a guy on the staff who hinted he knows who killed Jack.”
“Who?”
“He wouldn’t tell me. Said his boss would fire him for ratting out a client.”
I shook my head stunned at the absurdity of his comment. “That’s ridiculous. He needs to talk to the police.”
“I agree. Would you go to the gym and see if you can convince him to talk to that detective? Maybe a pretty face will persuade him.”
I doubted that, but I’d give it a shot. “I can try. What’s this guy’s name?”
“Tony. He runs the juice bar. Thanks. Let me know what happens.”
I handed the phone back to Betty.
“You’re leaving again.” She stated the obvious.
“I’ll be back in an hour.” I grabbed my cell and purse.
“Sure, sure. That’s what you always say.”
She had a point. Before I walked out the door, I double checked I still had the torn photo of Jack and Ladasha at the gym. Maybe someone there could tell me who the missing third person was.
WITHIN THIRTY minutes, I breezed through the doors of Jim Chow’s gym. It smelled like a bleached-out locker room. The echo of metal slapping metal filled the entryway.
I roamed around until I found the juice bar in the weight room. There were a dozen men pumping iron, grunting out their number of reps. I headed for the blond-haired hulk who stood behind a wooden
counter, dumping scoops of powder in a blender.
“Are you Tony?” I asked.
His dark shark eyes looked me up and down. “You bet. What can I do you for, gorgeous?”
Eck. I automatically stepped back, widening my personal space. Now I understood why the doc wanted me to come instead of him. “I’m a friend of Dr. Stolzman’s.”
“You don’t need any nips or tucks, sweetheart. You need some help with that great body? You come see me. I’ll train you personally.”
I ignored the muscles rippling under his T-shirt and pulled out the photograph. I gingerly pushed it across the counter. “Do you know these guys?”
“Sure. That’s Dr. O’Doggle and David Harncik. David’s a funny guy. Doesn’t like to sweat. He has a thing for my creatine shakes. Pull up a stool. I’ll make you one,” he added with a wink.
I held up my hand. “No thanks, I just ate.” The lie flowed off my tongue too easily. Anything to keep him at arm’s length. “Did they work out together?”
“Sometimes.”
“Did they work out last Thursday morning?”
“What’s the deal with all the questions? Are you a cop?” His oily charm evaporated into mistrust.
“No. But if you have information about Dr. O’Doggle’s death, you need to tell the police.”
“I don’t know who killed the doc.” He pulled out a damp towel and wiped down the bar.
“But you know something.”
He looked around as if he expected someone to be listening to our conversation. Trust me, no one was paying any attention to us, but that didn’t seem to matter to him. He acted spooked. “Who told you that?”
“Does it matter? Someone’s missing from the photo. Do you know who?”
“Sure. The three of them were working out, like always, then the chick goes crazy. Yelling about how family is supposed to stick together and calling one of them a traitor and a backstabber and how he thought he was better than them and needed to pay for it. She lost her mind.”
“The chick?”
“I wouldn’t mess with her. She’s got major anger management issues. She threatens to sue the gym at least once a month for something. Since the doc died, she and the guy haven’t been back.”
4 Yip/Tuck Page 12
