She flinched under my embrace. “You think I need a lawyer?” she squeaked and pulled away. “I thought you said the police thought it was a robbery.”
“Think about it. In less than a week, Jo, Cliff, Tova, you, and I have all had some type of altercation with Mona. At some point, the police are going to want to talk to you.”
“I guess so.”
I called Fluffy again, and she continued to ignore me. Darby and I stared at the giant fluff ball sprawled on her back, feet in the air, wiggling side to side.
“She’s going to have a bad case of bed-head when she gets up,” Darby said.
“Great. I guess we’re going to see Jade again.”
“Again?”
I marched over to Fluffy. She scrambled to her feet and shook. Stray hair flew everywhere. “Trust me, you don’t want to know. Maybe I could just leave her with you?”
“She doesn’t like me any more than Mona did.” Darby checked her watch again. “Mandy’s late.”
I attached Fluffy’s leash, then grabbed the lead Missy had dragged across the floor when she followed me. “All right, dogs, Darby’s kicking us out of here for a paying gig.”
Darby looked sad. I wasn’t expecting her to feel so badly about Mona. “It’s going to be fine.” I tried to sound reassuring.
“I know.” She didn’t look convinced.
She was hiding something, and I had a feeling it was going to be a doozie when it came out.
Secrets never stay secret. I’d learned that the hard way.
Sure as shootin’, Darby Beckett had her own secrets.
Chapter Twelve
I felt like a total dog, and I knew a lot about dogs. I believed Darby didn’t know Mona had listed her as an emergency contact. But she had flat out lied about why she’d called Mona. And for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why.
I called the police station to make sure Malone was in. He was out for the day. So the dogs and I stopped at the Bark Park, Laguna’s dog park-two acres of fenced-in grass and very popular with both dogs and humans.
Our odd trio stepped through the first gate easily enough. I unleashed Fluffy, then opened the second gate. She sat perfectly erect, waiting for someone to direct her movements.
“Run. Go play. Be free.” I motioned to the wide open space where a pack of dogs ran at top speed. She remained frozen, looking at me for the right command. Wow. The Bark Park was total culture shock for a pampered pooch.
Missy continued to sit patiently at my feet. “Okay, Fluffy, Missy here will show you how it’s done.”
I unclipped the leash, and Missy was off like a shot. Spin, spin, spin. Jump, jump, jump. Pause and breathe. And then off to chase an invisible object a good fifty yards before she collapsed in a heap of dog under the trees. It was always the same.
“See how much fun you can have? Go on, run around like Missy.”
Fluffy watched me for a full ten seconds before she stood and gingerly walked through the second gate and into the actual park.
She looked back at me, and I waved at her as I closed the gate behind us. “Go on. You’re fine.” Sheesh.
Once Fluffy decided to let her hair down and act like a dog, she ran as if she’d been held captive for the first half of her life.
Hop, hop, run. A cut to the left. Then a cut to the right. She abruptly burst into a gallop, her silky hair blew back from her face, and her pink tongue hung out of her mouth (not that she’d ever admit to doing something so dog-like as to have her tongue exposed in an undignified manner). I had to admit, she was beautiful to watch.
I grabbed the collapsible dog bowls I’d brought and filled them with water. At some point the “kids” would be thirsty. As soon as Missy saw what I was doing, she was at my feet chugging, slurping and dripping water everywhere. And sneezing. Grass allergies.
I threw her the disc for a while, then she was back at the water bowl. Once she’d had her fill, we camped out on a park bench (I sat on the bench, Missy, who was worn out, sprawled out underneath) and let Fluffy run. I worried if I interacted with her, she’d return to her pent-up snob-dog ways.
It wasn’t long before a couple of black and tan Salukis joined her. The three of them raced around playing their version of tag, Fluffy losing. Out of nowhere, Fluffy made a sharp cut to the right and whipped around. Suddenly, she was chasing them. Her agility was amazing.
The Salukis’ owner, a tall, blond, twenty-something decked out in skinny jeans and an oversized Gap sweatshirt, warily watched Missy and me from the opposite end of the bench. Who knows why she found us so fascinating, but she was definitely staring at us.
I scrutinized her from behind my sunglasses.
While we waited for Fluffy to tire, I dug out my cell and called Jade for advice on brushing an Afghan. She recited a monologue of products I “needed” in order to keep Fluffy in mint condition.
That dog used more hair product than Miss Texas.
Jade’s list went in one ear and out the other. I wasn’t going to have Fluffy long enough to invest in that amount of grooming supplies. I just wanted to know if I could use the brush I’d bought for Missy but hadn’t ever used.
The short answer was no.
Jade promised if we stopped by the spa she’d have the correct grooming tools waiting for me with some dude named Kendall. I was certain Mona owned all those brushes, combs, barrettes and whatever else Jade yammered on about. Honestly, it wasn’t really going to hurt anything if Fluffy went one whole day without proper brushing.
I politely passed, and she arrogantly warned I’d be sorry in her British accent that somehow made her verbal abuse acceptable.
“Isn’t that Mona Michaels’ dog?” The Salukis’ owner had finally gathered her courage to ask her burning question.
“Yes.” I tucked my cell into my bag and braced myself for the inquisition about Mona’s death and why I had Fluffy.
She continued to stare.
“How fast do you think they’re running?” I asked, turning our focus to the dogs.
“I’ve clocked them at thirty-eight miles an hour.”
My head snapped in her direction. “Seriously?”
She nodded. “Affies love to run. Definitely keep her on the leash if you’re not in an enclosed area. Are you the new dog walker?”
Affies? I smiled thinking about how insulted Fluffy would be to know she’d been reduced to a common nickname. A giggle tickled the back of my throat, but I managed to keep it back.
She continued to look at me funny. I realized she’d asked a question.
“No,” I said.
She narrowed her eyes. “Are you family?”
“More of a family friend.” I cringed even as I said it. She was entirely too interested in Mona and Fluffy. It was possible someone had blabbed to the media about Mona’s death. “Do you know Mona?”
“I’m Fluffy’s dog walker.”
“If I haven’t been replaced, who are you really?”
I wasn’t sure what to say, so I went with the truth. “My mother and Mona really are childhood friends. I’m temporarily dog-sitting.”
She didn’t look like she believed me.
