Sparkle Abbey
Get Fluffy
The second book in the Pampered Pets Mystery series, 2012
This book is dedicated to Team Sparkle Abbey. An amazing group of friends and family, who enthusiastically attend book signings, handout bookmarks, master our website and ask perfect strangers what they’re reading. Thank-you will never be enough.
Chapter One
I am nothing like my cousin, Caro, the “pet shrink.”
She’s a redhead, I’m a brunette. She’s kept her Texas twang, I busted my butt to lose mine. (Except when I’m honked off, then my southern drawl can strike like a Gulf coast hurricane.) She’s calm and direct. I’m equally direct. As for calm, I have to admit, sometimes my emotions tend to overrule my better judgment.
So who would have thought I’d end up in the middle of a Laguna Beach murder investigation, just like Caro?
From my very first breath, Mama had groomed me to be Miss America, just like her and her sister, Katherine. Or a Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader, which in Texas was the more prestigious of the two. By my twenty-first birthday, I’d gathered ten first-place pageant crowns like Fourth of July parade candy. That’s when my beauty queen career had been dethroned in public scandal.
Everyone believed she “encouraged” a male judge to cast his vote for me. As for what I thought, well, no daughter wants to believe her mama is a hustler. To this day, Mama still won’t talk about
With the battle for the top crown over, I’d traded in my tiaras, sashes and hair spray for Swarovski crystal collars, cashmere dog sweaters and botanical flea dip. I left Texas and moved to Laguna Beach, California, a community known for its art, wealth and love of dogs. I opened Bow Wow Boutique and catered to the canine who had everything.
I loved Laguna. Loved running my own business. I even loved the quirky folks whose lives revolved around their pooches. But sometimes I longed for Texas-wide open spaces, cowboy boots and big-big hair. Who wouldn’t?
It was mid-October. The tourists had packed up and headed home. The locals ventured out of their gated communities to enjoy all the beachside town had to offer. Most importantly, there was available parking downtown. At least until next May.
The annual Fur Ball had finally arrived-a community event to raise money for the Laguna Beach Animal Rescue League. The balmy weather was perfect for an outdoor fundraiser.
As always at these shindigs, the humans coughed up large chunks of dough for a worthy cause. Breezy air kisses and alcohol flowed freely, while we all pretended to be best friends. Trust me, we were one society catfight away from a hell of an entertaining evening.
I looked down at Missy, my English Bulldog, who waited patiently at my feet. Her crystal-studded tiara sat lopsided on the top of her head, and a small puddle of drool had collected between her paws.
I straightened her crown and whispered, “We’re up, girl. Let’s show them what we’ve got.”
With our heads held high, Missy and I strutted our stuff down the red carpet. The pup-a-razzi cameras flashed, and the crowd cheered. One reporter asked who’d made my strapless leather gown (Michael Kors) and another wanted to know how Missy had won her tiara (she’d placed first in Laguna Beach’s Ugliest Bulldog contest last year).
Once we reached the end of the walkway, I leaned down to dab the drool from Missy’s chin. “You did great.” I kissed the top of her head. “Let’s go find our friends.”
Missy gave my hand a slobbery kiss, and then we made our way into the main event. Under an extravagant white tent and glittering lights, two hundred wealthy dog lovers and their four-legged friends paraded around in designer rags, both human and canine dripped with diamonds.
I quickly spotted Kimber Shores and her pug Noodles making their way in our direction. Kimber oozed understated glamour in her mauve jumpsuit. She’d definitely make Laguna’s Best-Dressed List.
“Mel, I’m so glad I found you,” she declared.
As we air kissed, the low-cut back of her outfit offered a glimpse of her many tattoos.
“Noodles looks amazing,” she continued in her melodious voice. “I’m so glad you talked me out of the velvet jacket.”
Kimber and her pug had stopped by the shop earlier. Noodles had been in desperate need of a wardrobe update. I’d managed to wrangle him out of his Hugh Hefner smoking jacket and into a modest white tux and tails. Noodles sat in front of Missy, his marble eyes watching the slobber slide down the corners of her mouth.
I smiled affectionately. “He really isn’t a velvet kinda guy. I love the top hat. Nice choice.”
Out of the corner of my eye I could see Grey Donovan, my fiance of two years, heading in our direction. Kimber must have noticed, too; she immediately looked uncomfortable.
To the outside world, Grey’s and my relationship was seen as a tad unorthodox. We were the on-again, off- again type. Presently, we were “on.”
“Ah, I see you’re not alone. Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks.” She grabbed my hand and squeezed.
“You’re welcome. Stop by Bow Wow when you get a chance. I have the perfect sweater-vest for Noodles.”
Kimber and her pug disappeared into the crowd just as Grey arrived.
“Caro and Diana organized a great event.” He handed me a glass of pinot noir. He looked amazing in his black tux. But then, he always looked good.
Missy sniffed his pant leg, double-checking he hadn’t stepped out on her. He bent down and gave her some love. She snorted happily, lapping up Grey’s affection. I knew exactly how she felt.
I took a sip of wine, appreciating the black-pepper finish. I snagged us each a tomato and goat cheese tart from a passing waiter (he was out of pigs-in-a-blanket, Missy’s favorite).
“I hate to break it to you, but it’s the Dallas upbringing. Every society girl knows how to throw a successful charity fundraiser by her eighteenth birthday.” I took a bite of the tart and sighed. Delicious. “But you’re right. It’s a fabulous evening.”
Grey, an undercover FBI agent, worked white-collar crime-mostly art theft. He could be gone for two days or two months without a whisper of his well-being. I never knew if he was sipping espresso in Paris or being held hostage in a deserted warehouse in East LA.
His decision to keep me completely in the dark of his activities-his way of protecting me-had finally pushed me to the breaking point. I’d realized if I had trouble
I swear, I’d tried to return the six-carat sapphire engagement ring that had belonged to his great-grandmother, but Grey had refused to accept it. He believed we could work it out. I really wanted him to be right.
“To Caro and Diana. May the evening continue to be a howling success.” Grey lifted his glass, and I followed
