After Felix had swiped Jackson’s receipt that afternoon, they had to kill several hours before returning after dark. While Felix was just full of suggestions that involved her backseat—no matter how small it was—they’d settled on dinner at a nearby Mexican restaurant.
When they returned after nightfall, they’d sat outside his home to case the place, picking away at leftovers as they watched car after car roll up and park on William’s street. So far they’d counted at least eight people who knocked on his door.
“Why do you think there are so many people here?” Addison asked Felix. “Do you think they’re all involved in the dognapping?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he’s selling them off or something. An auction to the highest bidder?”
Addison kept her eyes on the hole in the fence, but she sensed Felix’s eyes on her while they continued to wait.
“So why dogs?” he asked. “Why not groom and dress people? Why the tutus, and the nails, and piercings, and dyed hair? It’s torturous enough on humans. It borders on animal cruelty,” he joked.
“Figures you’d say that. Looks like it’s been a while since you’ve even had a haircut.”
He snorted, but didn’t deny it.
“First of all,” she said, “I don’t condone piercing dogs’ ears. That’s a cruel practice just for fashion’s sake. And I guess it’s because everyone needs to feel beautiful, even dogs.”
“Because dogs care if they’re up to date on the latest fashion?”
“Maybe not, but they enjoy the pampering, the sense that they’re important. And in turn, it gets them positive attention, which makes them happy and feel even more loved.”
“So is that why you do it?”
“Do what?” she asked distractedly, focused on the hole again.
“The hair, the makeup, the carefully calculated outfits.” He tugged on her dress. “Because it gets you attention?”
Addison finally tore her attention away from William Jackson’s backyard. “No. I don’t do it for anyone else. I happen to enjoy fashion.”
“That kind of beauty is only skin deep,” he said with a sneer. Not at her, but maybe at the general idea of it. “It means nothing.”
“Why the face?” Addison asked. “You have something against a little hygiene and self-care? Oh wait”—she fingered a hole near the neckline of his Metallica T-shirt—“look who I’m asking.”
He frowned. “Hey, this is vintage, I’ll have you know. I guess I believe there’s more to a person than what they look like on the outside.”
“You think that I’m superficial just because I like to dress nice and spend time on my hair?” she asked. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with wrapping the gift in paper that matches the quality of the present inside. I mean you wouldn’t buy a ring from Tiffany’s and stick it in a shoebox, would you?”
In the light from the street, she saw his eyes brighten. “And you’re the Tiffany ring?” She liked that his tone wasn’t his usual sarcasm. It was full of excitement. Maybe anticipation at the idea of opening that gift.
“Honey, I’m the whole store.” She gave him a wink. “I like to bring the internal beauty to the outside. There’s beauty in everything and everyone. Even you, Felix Vaughn. It’s somewhere in there.” She gave him a playful shove. “Deep down in there.” She poked his chest. “Deep, deep, deep, deep…”
He smiled, grabbing her finger playfully.
Addison really did try to see the good in Felix, but he made it hard sometimes. There would be a ray of hope, a glimmer of a deeper man beneath the wolfish smile and the cocky attitude. But then he would go and say something stupid and ruin the moment.
“The hair and makeup are just the finishing touches,” Addison said. “A way to reflect the beauty a person has within. Not to mask a defective personality.”
His finger trailed down her arm, causing goose bumps. “Well, if your wrapping is any indication of what’s hidden beneath, then you must be perfect inside.” His teeth flashed in the darkness, matching the white hibiscus growing next to him.
The smile dropped from Addison’s face. She knew he was just being his flirtatious self, but the words made her wonder. Maybe she was subconsciously hiding something. Finding ways to make herself perfect on the outside, using makeup and clothes to cover up the defect on the inside.
“Did I say something wrong?” he asked.
He hadn’t meant anything by it. Of course not. It’s not like he knew it was actually true.
“I … I think I heard something,” she lied. But as they grew silent to listen, she did hear a noise coming from inside Jackson’s house.
“Bark, bark, bark.”
“Is that…?” Felix began.
“Woof, woof.”
Addison held her ear closer to the fence. “Someone barking like a dog?”
The answer came in the form of a long, drawn-out howl. Not canine but … human.
“Come on,” Addison said. “Let’s get a better look.”
Unfortunately, there was no gate on that side of the house, but there was a garbage can. She lined it up where the fence met the house.
She waved Felix over. “Come and help me up.”
Felix steadied her as she balanced on the trash can, his hand gripping her thigh—maybe a little higher than he needed to.
“Now that’s what I call getting a better look,” he said.
She could hear the amusement in his voice, and she turned to see him staring up her dress. If she’d had a free hand she would have swatted him.
Addison swung a leg over the fence. She moved her foot around until she found the horizontal rail on the other side to place it on, then climbed over. The wood scraped her legs as she lowered herself to the ground.
Darkness enveloped her and she felt cornered in the yard, fearing that at any moment the exterior lights could flick on and Jackson would discover her and set the entire pack of stolen dogs on her. The possibility that she could go to jail for breaking and entering became very real in that moment. However, if she didn’t do something to find the missing dogs, she might go to jail anyway. Talk about being caught between a tight budget and a flash sale.
It didn’t take very long before Felix was standing next to Addison in the dark yard, making her feel safer, less alone. At least if she was going down, he’d be going down with her.
They made their way through the yard behind the house, and Addison felt her chest shake with each powerful beat of her frightened heart. Every step brought them closer to being discovered. It was unsettling, yet thrilling. For better or for worse, she was glad Felix was by her side.
Most of the curtains had been drawn closed. No light escaped the house except from the sliding glass doors facing the backyard. The long drapes had caught on the carpet, allowing a small glimpse into the home.
Together, Addison and Felix crept up to the doors and got down on their hands and knees to peer inside. They pressed their heads together so they could both see the view. And what a view they saw.
The leather collars were being put to good use, only they weren’t around furry necks. They were around the necks of William Jackson and several of his male friends. At the other end, women in various stages of undress held the leashes.
Addison’s eyes widened. She clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing—or screaming, she wasn’t sure which. “Oh my God.”
Meanwhile, Felix was snickering next to her. “Why wasn’t I invited to this party?”
“Something tells me they don’t want anyone to see this. Even a bartender.”
He gave her a wolfish smile. “I meant as a guest.”
She hit him on the arm, but she was laughing herself. Then she heard a muffled gasp from inside the house. The music stopped.
“Did anyone hear that?” a female voice asked. “I think someone’s out there.”
Addison and Felix froze, ready to make a run for the fence. Felix cupped a hand over his mouth like a megaphone. “Woof, woof,” he
barked.
He barely got through it before he lost control, his body convulsing as his stomach seized with rich laughs. Addison succumbed to her own giggles, making it difficult to move even as footsteps thudded toward the sliding glass door from inside.
Felix clamped a hand around her wrist and dragged her back to the fence. He interlaced his fingers and held them low so that she could step on them. Lifting herself up, Addison straddled the wooden pickets as she searched for the trash can on the other side with her foot. She found the metal lid just as she heard the sliding glass door hiss open.
Worried shouts and questions carried into the yard. Addison leapt off the garbage can. Within seconds Felix was next to her, running by her side down the street and to the car.
“Do you think they’ll call the cops?” she panted as she reached for the door handle.
“And tell them what?” Felix rounded the car and hopped in. “Their freaky sex party was interrupted? Time to go,” he said, buckling up. “Use some of those Fast and Furious skills to get us out of here. And hurry.”
Addison didn’t need to be told twice. She started the engine and pumped the gas a couple of times before peeling away.
They sped by William Jackson’s house in a blur just as she saw the shine of his balding head beneath the front porch lights. He squinted through the dark, probably trying to read her license plate, but then he was yanked back inside by a tug on his leash.
By the time the Mini reached the end of the street, Addison and Felix had dissolved into laughter.
14
Dog Eat Dog
The high-gloss red door swung open to Addison’s ridiculously enthusiastic smile.
“Hello. I don’t know if you remember me. My name is Addison Turner. I’ve come to do a brief survey on your experience with Pampered Puppies. Would you be interested in participating?”
Kitty Carlisle stood inside her classic San Francisco painted-lady home with its adorable olive scalloped siding and yellow trim, staring out with a blank expression on her pinched face.
“It will only take five minutes of your time,” Addison added. “And you’ll receive this complementary bag of free samples.” She held the frilly pink bag out, practically forcing Kitty to take it.
Once it was in her hands, Addison cheerfully barged her way through the front door and into the foyer. Even though the old lady creeped her out, she had to get a closer look. Felix wasn’t able to get into William Jackson’s house the day before—which might have been for the best—but she knew this time around she needed to get closer, much closer if she was going to investigate. After all, there wasn’t a lot she could uncover from the front stoop.
Kitty peered at the street behind Addison with her bulgy eyes, as though looking for other people. Or maybe witnesses, Addison thought with a shiver, remembering the lady’s crazed looks at the cocktail mixer.
“Oh, all right,” she relented. “Come in.”
But Addison was already inside, scoping out the place. Her gaze darted around the room. The entrance was full of fake flowers and framed pictures of what she assumed were the woman’s kids and grandkids. Then her eyes fell on Kitty’s bichon frisé sitting by the door. He’d been so well behaved that she hadn’t noticed him.
Squatting down, she reached out to pet him, but still he didn’t move. When her hand touched his white fur, it felt cold and hard. She snatched her hand back in surprise. It was a carved statue.
Kitty giggled. “So lifelike, isn’t it? I had that commissioned at the height of Elvis’s competitive career. I wanted him to have a reminder of the glory days.”
“It’s”—Addison hesitated—“beautiful.” She suppressed a shudder, but couldn’t stop from wiping her hand subtly on her leggings.
Kitty led Addison into the sitting room and invited her to take a seat on a green floral sofa covered in a layer of protective plastic. It squeaked under Addison’s butt as she sat.
For a moment she felt a flutter of panic beneath her chest and the urge to run screaming out of there before she was axe-murdered. But as she took in the rest of the room and saw the plastic sticker still stuck on the television screen, and the dog show trophies displayed in separate display cases, she realized the couch cover wasn’t to hide evidence. The woman was just fastidious.
Kitty sat quietly in her armchair waiting for Addison to begin, pug eyes watching her carefully. “What was it that you wanted to ask me?”
“Umm,” Addison referred to her clipboard—which she thought made her look very official. “How many dogs do you currently have?”
“Just the one. Elvis!” she called out. “Come here, Elvis!” There was a light jingling and padding of paws before Kitty’s dog twin floated into the room like a little white cloud on a sunny day.
“There’s my boy,” Kitty said, picking him up and placing him on her lap.
“He’s a beautiful bichon frisé,” Addison said.
“Thank you. Elvis here had a good run, but he’s retired now.” She indicated the row of trophies on the mantel.
That’s when Addison spotted the detailed painting hanging above the fireplace. What she’d mistook before as a portrait of Kitty with her white beehive, was actually a commissioned painting of Elvis. He sat nobly with his chin resting on his paw, replete in a green paisley vest, a cravat, a monocle over one eye, and a pocket watch to top the outfit off.
Addison almost laughed, but then she thought it was likely not meant to be cute and whimsical, but rather a serious rendition of Elvis, which made it even odder. She shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. Her butt squeaked on the plastic again.
Kitty nuzzled the dog’s halo of white fur. “We had a good run, didn’t we pookie?”
Addison cleared her throat and focused on her clipboard. “Do you think you’ll compete in dog shows again in the future?”
“Not anytime soon. It just wouldn’t be the same without Elvis,” she said a little sadly. “But I still attend the events each year and enjoy being part of the association. I’ve been on the judging panel for a few years now.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize that. That’s exciting.” Addison made a note of that, even though she wasn’t exactly sure what it meant for her investigation. If Kitty was a judge, surely she wouldn’t want to steal the dogs entering the competition.
“Upholding the standards are important to me,” Kitty told Addison. “And if you ask me, they’ve been slipping under Judge Walter Boyd’s watch.”
She remembered the large man Phillip had introduced her to at the cocktail mixer. “How have they been slipping?”
Kitty huffed. “Oh please. His Best in Show choice last year? Alistair’s beagle?” She scoffed at the ridiculousness of it. “Who was Walter kidding? Everyone could see there was favoritism there. Judge Walter’s own dogs are hounds, you see. Lilly’s rein should have ended the year before last.”
The plastic squeaked as Kitty leaned in close like someone might overhear them in her own sitting room. “Between you and me, Alistair was beginning to look a little ridiculous continuing to show Lilly. She was past her prime. He needed to move on. It was becoming a little embarrassing.”
“Oh.” Addison considered this for a second. It didn’t exactly make Kitty suspect number one, because she’d heard Phillip say something similar at his fundraiser. She mentally tucked it away, though, to scribble it down in her notebook later. It would be too obvious to do it right in front of Kitty.
For now she moved down the list of questions on her clipboard. “In your experience with Pampered Puppies, on a scale from one to ten, what was your level of satisfaction with the results?”
“Oh, ten. Elvis’s fur hasn’t been this soft in years.”
Addison beamed. “Oh, that’s the jojoba and coconut oil cleanser. It prevents tangles while increasing luster and flexibility. It’s our most popular product,” she rambled off, excited to talk about business. “On a scale from one to ten, how safe did you feel leaving Elvis with Pampered Puppies?”
�
��Oh, well,” Kitty’s eyes dropped, considering Elvis cuddled in her arms. “You’re always nervous leaving your pet. Elvis is like my child.”
“I feel the same way about my Princess. I understand.” Addison understood more than the woman was outright saying. She could see the apprehension in her eyes. Kitty was an anxious woman to begin with, but the dognapping probably had her on edge. It had everyone on edge.
Kitty’s eyes flicked to Addison. “Is it true?” she asked. “Did all those dogs really get stolen?”
“It seems that way.”
“How?” She held Elvis closer, like maybe Addison would snatch him from her arms in broad daylight and make a run for it.
Of course she suspected Addison. Kitty had been there the night of the cocktail mixer; she’d heard the rumors. Who hadn’t? That was what made their little undercover investigation so difficult. No one trusted her or Felix.
“They weren’t certain until it happened again this weekend at Phillip Montgomery’s fundraiser. The police suspect it was an inside job. One of the staff or a guest at the party.” Addison observed the woman for a sign, a twitch, a tell. Maybe just as closely as Kitty was watching her.
“Well, thankfully I don’t need to worry about that.” She kissed Elvis on the head. “He’s twelve years old now. Not coming out of retirement. He’s no threat to anyone.”
Addison stared at the woman. “So you think it’s someone who wants to win the contest taking out the competition?”
Kitty’s painted-on eyebrows rose. “Certainly. It’s not like we haven’t all thought about it.” She laughed like it was an obvious conclusion, and the titters sent shivers down Addison’s spine. She didn’t want to think what Kitty might have done for all those trophies lining the mantel.
Kitty tilted onto one buttock to lean in close. The plastic on her chair groaned, sounding like a fart. “You want to know the truth about conformation? It’s rife with jealousy and bitter competition. Prohibited plastic surgeries, opponents snipping out patches of fur on other dogs or scratching the pads of paws so they can’t walk properly. Opponents will try to oust the competition in any way.” She covered Elvis’s ears so he wouldn’t hear. “Even by nobbling.”
Beauty and the Wiener Page 15
