Holly spoke with them in hushed tones while the cameraman hoisted his burden onto his shoulder. Dread filled Addison as Holly took up her microphone and moved her mouth in some vocal exercises. She hoped they were simply making a plea to the community. The more people out there looking for the dogs, the better. If only they kept Addison’s name out of it.
The cameraman counted down on his fingers. Three, two, one. Then Holly began.
“I’m standing in San Francisco’s historic Regency Ballroom on Sutter Street, the location of the premiere event for this year’s Western Dog Show, and boy have things gone to the dogs. I’m with Alistair Yates, longtime dog show enthusiast, and Penny Peacock, the top dog of the dog handling profession.” She gestured to both of them in turn. “Mr. Yates, can you please explain to us what happened here tonight?” She turned the microphone on him.
He leaned on his cane and held his face close to the mic. “My precious Lilly is gone.”
“Is Lilly your dog?” Holly asked.
“Yes, she’s a tricolored beagle. She won the title of Best of Breed and Best in Show the last three years running. And she was stolen from me.”
Holly gasped. “You think that she was dognapped? Why would someone want to take her?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked. “She’s utterly perfect.” He stared at the camera, a desperate look of plea on his face. “I’ll do anything to get her back. I’m offering a fifty thousand dollar reward for anyone who returns my Lilly to me unharmed.”
“I understand that more than just your dog went missing tonight,” Holly said. “Is that correct?”
Penny leaned toward the microphone. “Yes. Six other dogs were stolen. Purebred dogs are often targeted by thieves because they’re worth a lot of money when resold as pets or used to breed. Tonight, some of the best and brightest in the country were taken.”
Holly sighed and tilted her head like the tragic heroine on the front cover of a cheesy romance novel. “I have an adorable Chinese crested, myself. I couldn’t imagine what I would do if I ever lost her.”
Addison rolled her eyes at the fake drama. She’d seen Holly’s aversion to dogs, not to mention the reporter had severe allergies to them. The dog was probably made up to gain viewer sympathy. She wasn’t concerned for the dogs, just her ratings.
“How could this tragic incident have possibly happened?” Holly turned the mic on Alistair.
“Oh no,” Addison breathed. Her heart pounded beneath her dress. She felt sick to her stomach. “Don’t say my name. Don’t say my name. Don’t say my name.” She grabbed Princess and took a step closer to the group in order to hear what came next.
“I don’t know, exactly. Lilly was in the care of a dog groomer at the time.”
“Dog stylist,” Addison said between clenched teeth.
Felix reached over the bar and grabbed her arm from behind, as though sensing she was teetering over the edge. “It’s best to stay out of this right now,” he told her. “Keep a low profile. Don’t add fuel to the fire.”
Penny grabbed the microphone right out of Holly’s hand. “It was Addison Turner of Pampered Puppies. We’d entrusted Lilly to her care, under the pretense that Miss Turner was going to groom her.”
“Pretense?” Addison inhaled sharply. She wrenched out of Felix’s grip and before she knew it, she was grabbing the microphone from Holly’s hand. She scowled at Penny. “I took great care of Lilly.”
Holly tried to wrestle the microphone back. “But the beagle disappeared under your care, did she not, Miss Turner?”
“Well, yes, technically.” Addison frowned. “But that doesn’t mean I stole her or had anything to do with the dogs going missing.”
Holly ripped the microphone away, gripping it possessively. “It’s the perfect crime. Lure unsuspecting pups into your lair and snatch them up to make a quick buck.”
Princess growled at Holly, defending Addison’s reputation. If only everyone could translate dog—they’d probably have to bleep out a few words.
“My lair?” Addison cried. “Who am I? Cruella de Vil? And why would I want to give my business a bad name?”
Holly sneered, her bleached teeth flashing with the excitement of a hot story. “Make enough money from a few valuable show dogs, and you can move onto the next town and start the scam all over again.”
Addison’s mouth dropped open. Holly was making Addison enemy number one on television. Reaching out, she covered the microphone with her hand. “Whose side are you on, anyway?” she hissed at Holly. “Think about it. Why would I work my butt off for two years to build a reputation, just to steal a few dogs?”
Holly’s shoulders raised in an indifferent shrug. “I can’t play favorites, Addison. A good reporter is always impartial. I’m just looking for answers.”
Addison flinched back, startled by Holly’s carelessness. Addison had witnessed Holly target one of her best friends, Piper, from the rescue center the year before and knew just how dirty she could play, but now Holly’s sights seemed to have homed in on Addison.
She glared at the hack reporter. “Why would you do this? After you helped me promote my business when I first launched? After you helped us gain community support for the rescue center last year?”
“Hey, You,” Holly snapped at the cameraman, whose name Addison still hadn’t heard to this day. “Cut that part. I don’t want to remind the viewers that I have any association with this.”
Addison gave a throaty noise of disgust. “Nice.”
Holly smoothed out her blazer for take two. “I have a reputation to maintain, you know.”
“Yeah, so do I,” Addison shot back. “And you’re ruining it.”
“Maybe you should have thought about that before you dognapped six dogs.”
“Seven,” Penny said.
“Seven dogs,” Holly corrected herself.
Addison stomped her heel on the hardwood floor. “I did not dognap them.”
“Tell that to the cops.” Holly waved a dismissive hand.
“I did,” Addison growled. “And if you knew how to investigate, you’d know that there’s no conclusive evidence that this was a theft.” Yet, she added in her head. At least she still hoped not, because that meant they might still be out there on the streets waiting to be found.
Holly clicked her fingers at Hey,You. “Cut that, too.” She straightened her back with an air of trustworthy authority and stared into the camera.
“Well, there you have it, San Franciscans. It’s dog show week, and there’s a puppy pincher on the loose. Have they acquired their target among the missing or is this just the beginning? With such stiff competition, no one can be trusted in this dog-eat-dog event. This is Holly Hart for Channel Five News, signing out.”
Hey, You gave a thumbs-up and Holly slouched in relief, but Addison was right in her face.
“What the hell was that?” Addison demanded. “You can’t air that. It will destroy me.”
“It’s nothing personal. But when I got the call, I couldn’t ignore it.” She tossed her microphone to Hey, You, who was packing away all the equipment.
“The whole dog scene is kind of my thing now. My M.O. My calling card,” she told Addison, all smiles now. “My ratings have gone through the roof since I started reporting on all this fluffy, happy dog crap. The viewers lap this stuff up, no pun intended. Oh wait”—she paused—“I think I’ll write that one down for later.” She drew out her phone and tapped the screen a few times.
“But you don’t even have the full story,” Addison argued. “This wasn’t my fault.”
Holly stopped her with a warning finger. “Don’t even bother complaining to my producer. It’s not like I said anything that wasn’t true. Not exactly anyway. You’re still the lead suspect.”
“I am?” Addison hesitated. “The lead? Really?”
“Rumor has it.”
“But—”
“Look, kid.” Holly patted her on the head, even though she was probably less than three years ol
der than Addison. “It’s the kind of juicy story that the people want to hear. It’s ripe with drama, drama, drama.” She shuddered, like the word alone turned her on.
Princess snapped her jaws at Holly’s hand, and she barely snatched it away in time.
Addison glared at Holly. “How is this drama supposed to help find the dogs? You didn’t even make a plea to the community for help. And it’s not exactly the publicity I wanted for my business or my new Fido Fashion line.”
Holly smiled what she probably thought was supposed to be sympathetic. “Tough luck.” She snapped her fingers. “Hey, You. Let’s go, while the night is still young.” Like nothing mattered but her ratings, she turned on her Manolo Blahniks and left.
Fuming, Addison held Princess close and stormed after her. She reached out for that over-bleached, platinum-blonde hair. But her fingers had barely brushed the over-processed locks before her feet left the ground and she was swept away. She kicked at the air, struggling against the strong hold around her waist.
“Let me go!” she yelled. “Let me go. I’m going to kill her.”
When she finally stopped struggling—mostly because her nylons were starting to creep down her legs—she was released. She elbowed the person, shoving them away, and turned to find Felix grinning down at her.
“You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?”
“I’ll show you feisty,” she said, stomping past him. But it was pointless. With a sweep of his arm, she and Princess were right back in front of him again.
He shook his finger at her as if chastising a five-year-old. “Now don’t do anything you’re going to regret.”
“Oh, I won’t regret it,” she said calmly.
“It will only add fuel to her story and you know it. Come on. Why don’t we go find you a drink? My treat.”
Addison frowned at the escaping news reporter. Because she couldn’t take it out on her, she turned her glare on the bartender. “No one will know, huh?”
“Yeah, well,” he pulled a sheepish expression. “I didn’t exactly see that one coming.”
“No. People don’t generally get forewarned about the end of the world.” She gripped her hair. “We’re talking zombie apocalypse kind of stuff.”
“It’s not the end of the world. I bet if you just go home and get some rest, this will all blow over before you know it.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. It flashed a metallic gold in the dim chandelier light. “Here. If you ever need anything, or you change your mind about that drink, give me a call.”
Without looking at it, she shoved the card into the depths of her clutch, that special place reserved for old receipts, gum wrappers, and those bobby-pins she always seemed to lose.
There was only one number she’d wanted that night, and it wasn’t Felix’s. It was Phillip Montgomery III’s digits. But after everything that happened that night, she’d be lucky if she even got to wash his dog.
Turning her back on Felix, Addison headed for her Caribbean Aqua Mini convertible to start scouring the city for the missing dogs.
5
Bone to Pick
Addison sat in her Mini convertible staring up at a canary yellow historic home, psyching herself up to get out. It was a bright and sunny Sunday morning, but the engraved sign out front seemed to loom over her with reproach: SAN FRANCISCO DACHSHUND RESCUE CENTER.
She glanced at the passenger seat where Princess sat with an entitled thrust to her barrel chest, waiting for her door to be opened. Her blonde head swung toward Addison impatiently. It was like driving Miss Daisy. But to Addison, she was worth the extra effort.
“Home sweet home,” Addison said.
Princess barked and wagged her tail, the decorative pink ribbons Addison tied to it fluttering with each swipe. She pawed at the passenger door, eager to greet her subjects inside.
It had been Addison’s home ever since she’d graduated from pet grooming school five years earlier. She’d been offering her pro bono services to different shelters around the city, both to hone her skills and to give a little TLC to those dogs in the most need. But the day she met Princess, she knew the Dachshund Rescue Center was her home for good. She fell in love with it and its inhabitants—both the two-legged and four-legged kind. She’d come back every week since then.
But it didn’t feel like a second home to Addison this morning. Even with a pancake breakfast waiting inside. Today it was a reminder of her failed attempt at combining her two favorite things: dogs and beauty. Dogs were her passion. She volunteered her time rescuing them and finding them happy homes. She found lost dogs. She didn’t lose them.
It was also a reminder of her broken promise to a friend, who happened to be a particularly powerful businessman, not to mention the boyfriend of Piper, one of her besties. The one and only Aiden Caldwell, prominent CEO of Caldwell and Son Investments and a key investor in her business.
How was she going to tell him that she’d lost seven dogs at the cocktail mixer? That her reputation was being slandered far and wide throughout the local Doggydom—if it hadn’t gone national yet, that is. Most important, how would she explain that she’d taken the money he’d invested in her Fido Fashion line to help her get it off the ground and threw it all into one basket: the two weeks leading up to her fashion show.
Chances were, she wouldn’t have to tell him. It was less than twelve hours after the horrible event, and the news had been posted on every social media site that Addison was on, and more than that she was sure. Aiden didn’t take a day off work. Even on the weekends, he kept up with local news, and after Holly Hart’s segment that morning, everyone in the city probably knew.
Addison’s phone rang. Pulling it out of her purse, she checked the caller ID. It was her dad. She wasn’t ready to tell him what had happened at the cocktail mixer the night before. It wasn’t exactly like it was her fault, not really, but she was still embarrassed about the situation, regardless. She wanted him to be proud of her, and she wasn’t feeling a lot of pride at the moment.
But it was her dad. They talked at least once a week. And right about now, she needed to hear his voice. Hitting the icon, she accepted the call. “Hi Dad.”
“Hi sweetheart. How are you?” Just the sound of his voice was comforting, but it was tinted with concern. “I saw you on the news. What in the world happened?”
Great, even her dad who lived in Linda Mar had heard. “Oh that? Err, yeah, some dogs were stolen at the event I was working last night.”
“Well, is everything okay? Have they found them yet? And why were those people blaming you for it?” He was asking questions faster than she could answer. Not that she had many answers for him, or for herself.
“The police are looking into it.” Addison hesitated. She usually told her dad everything. But she’d already been to the cop shop that morning to answer more questions, and if they ended up finding the dogs then she didn’t want to worry him for nothing. And if she was honest with herself, she didn’t want to tell him how bad things were because she didn’t want to disappoint him.
“It was all kind of a misunderstanding,” she said, finally. “It’s the dogs that I’m really worried about. They haven’t found any trace of them yet.”
“That’s too bad,” he said. “You’re doing okay though, right?”
“Yeah, of course. You know me.” She tried to muster some enthusiasm, but it sounded weak even to her.
“That’s my girl. Nothing can get you down.”
She rolled her eyes, mostly at herself. “You bet.” She hated lying to her dad, but she just needed a little time to figure out how bad things really were.
There was a moment’s pause when her dad grew quiet on the other end. “I also called to give you some news.”
“Oh? What is it?” She sat up straighter, glad the focus was shifting off her.
“Well, you know things haven’t been going very well at the store,” he began. “Dora and I have decided that it’s time to sell. Or rather, the bank has decid
ed for us. It’s either sell fast or we’ll be facing bankruptcy.”
Addison blinked as she let the news wash over her. The corner store had practically been her second home growing up. “Dad. I had no idea things were that bad.”
His laugh sounded strained over the line. “Me neither. I’d hoped we could turn things around.”
Addison suddenly felt guilty. Her father was admitting his own dire situation to her while she was hiding her bad news. But at the same time, she knew it was the right decision. He had enough on his plate to worry about. She didn’t need to add her own side dish.
“That’s not good, Dad. I wish there was something I could do to help.” And she really meant it. The timing was terrible. If only the police would hurry up and find the dogs. If only her fashion show would go well and her line would take off. If only she had the money to help them bail out their business. Or at least buy them a bit more time.
“Oh, don’t worry about us. I just wanted to let you know what was going on.” Now he sounded like the one trying and failing to muster some enthusiasm. “I’d better get going. Dora’s keeping an eye on the store by herself. Lots to do. Anyway, I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Okay Dad. Love you.”
“Love you too, muffin.”
After she hung up, she stared at the phone, stunned and feeling utterly useless. Her dad was in trouble and there was nothing she could do about it. She knew that he would help her if he could—not that he could do anything about the poor missing pooches.
She was happy he’d told her, but also glad that she hadn’t let on about her own problems, because he’d probably feel just as helpless as she did right now. With the dogs missing, and the future of her business on the line, she wasn’t exactly in the best position to help him. If only there was a way to turn things around for herself, she might be able to do something for him.
A gentle breeze kicked up, and Addison caught the faint whiff of mouthwatering pancakes. Obviously so did Princess, because she began to whine and fidget on the seat. Addison sighed. She knew she couldn’t hide in her car forever. It was Pancake Sunday, after all. And she could certainly use the comforting carbs after the lengthy little chat she’d had with the cops that morning.
Beauty and the Wiener Page 6
