Get Fluffy

“Do you walk her every day?” This was the first I’d heard about a dog walker. Where had Blondie been hiding?

“A couple of times a week. I care for a number of dogs in her community.”

“I see.”

“You’re not Cliff’s girlfriend?” she asked.

“Heck, no. Why would you even think that? Have you met Cliff?”

“He seems like the kind of guy who’d throw a younger woman in his ex’s face.” The edgy tone implied she wasn’t a member of Team Cliff.

“Oh?”

She shrugged as if downplaying what she was about to say. “He stopped by last week, and they had an argument.”

“About?”

“I couldn’t tell, but neither one of them were happy. There was a lot of yelling.”

“Was that Wednesday?”

“No. Sunday afternoon.”

The day of the Fur Ball.

I lowered my sunglasses and turned toward her. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Kate.”

I held out my hand. “I’m Melinda. My friends call me Mel.”

“I’m glad you stopped by the park today. There aren’t many dogs who can keep up with Crash and Lou Lou.”

Kate seemed like a nice person, and I felt a tad dishonest not telling her about Mona. I grabbed Missy’s leash and clipped it to her collar. “I think Fluffy enjoyed herself. It was nice chatting with you, but we’ve got to go. Fluffy. Come,” I called.

She took one look at me and ran the opposite direction. I hadn’t thought this part through very well. I called her again. She continued to ignore me.

Kate let out an ear-piercing whistle and her dogs immediately came running, Fluffy bringing up the rear.

“Thanks.” I grabbed Fluffy while I had the chance. I attached her lead, regaining control of the situation.

“Remember, I’m the human.” That was becoming a frequent reprimand.

“You might want to suggest to Mona obedience training. I don’t know if you’ve heard of her, but Carolina Lamont’s the best here in town. She’s a pet behaviorist.”

I groaned inwardly. “I’ve heard of her.”

Too bad my cousin couldn’t have helped Mona with her behavioral issues. Maybe she’d still be alive today. And in possession of her precious Fluffy.

I’d just loaded the dogs into the Jeep when my cell phone rang.

“Everybody hold tight.” I frantically searched my bag. “Geesh. Hold on,” I yelled as it rang. My fingers found my phone at the bottom of my bag. Unknown caller. Hmm. Odds were it was a telemarketer. Or my mama. It would be just like her to call from an unlisted number so I’d pick up.

“What do you think, Missy? Should I answer it?”

It was Missy’s turn to ride shotgun. She sneezed, then shook her head, beating herself with her jowls. I wiped her slimy drool off my leg and answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Melinda Sue Langston?”

I squinted at Missy. I’d been had. “Depends. Who’s calling?”

“Owen Quinn, Mona Michael’s attorney,” a high pitched male voice spoke quickly.

“Uh. Yes, this is Melinda.” I couldn’t stop myself from looking in the rearview mirror at the backseat. “Are you calling about Fluffy?”

Hearing her name she looked in my direction. Her eyes fixated on my reflection.

“I need you to stop by my office tomorrow,” he said.

“Why?”

“I’d-prefer-to explain-in-person-would-11:00-am-work-for-you?”

Good grief, he talked fast. I brushed a few stray hairs away from my face. “Where are you located?”

He rattled off an address downtown, not far from Bow Wow.

“Do I need to bring anything? Like a dog?” I eyeballed Fluffy over the top of my sunglasses.

“That’s not necessary. I’ll see you then, Ms. Langston.”

He disconnected, and I was left wondering what his call was really about. Great. Now what?

Grey called late that night. I had every intention of explaining about Mona’s phone and Owen Quinn, the man with two first names. Until Grey said he was leaving town on an art forgery case.

I tossed my boots into the walk-in closet with more effort than needed. “When?”

“I’m taking a red-eye out of LAX tonight.”

I knew better than to ask where he was going. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. I could hear flight departure announcements over the phone. He was already at the airport. “How long?”

“I don’t know. A couple of days. It’ll depend on the validity of the lead.”

I ignored the apprehension twisting in my stomach. He promised to call when he landed. I promised to stay out of trouble.

Since I didn’t have a date with Grey, I slipped on my PJ’s and had a date with the TV.

“Stay off the couch,” I said to Fluffy.

She dismissed my order with a shrug and promptly climbed up on my leather couch and made herself at home.

“Down.” I pointed to the floor next to Missy who was curled into a tight ball in her doggie bed, drooling in her sleep.

Fluffy closed her eyes and drifted off into a loud snore.

“Faker. Where’s a pet shrink when you need her?”

I left snob-dog on the couch and raided the fridge. I grabbed a bag of pepperoni, some Spanish cheese and multi-grain crackers, and made a small feast. I carried my platter of snack food back to the living room in time for the late night talk shows. The saltiness of the crackers and creamy Spanish cheese were the perfect partnership, a late night party in my mouth.

You’d never guess who was mentioned in the monologues.

Yep. Mona Michaels.

Apparently, Entertainment Today, Inside Scoop, and some internet gossip magazine had learned about Mona’s death, and her tragic end had been broadcast to the world.

Ironically, the picture the press had chosen had been taken Emmy night. It creeped me out seeing Mona and Fluffy, side by side, with the same hairstyle and the same choker necklace. Fluffy’s collar. The same one she wore now.

I leaned over and lifted Fluffy’s head. Was that what the robber had been looking for? The collar had to be worth at least fifty thousand dollars. (I’m sure that was conservative.) I’d never seen Fluffy without it, but maybe, whoever had broken into Mona’s didn’t know Fluffy always wore her diamonds. Snob Dog eyed me, annoyed I’d interrupted her diva sleep.

I had to call Malone. I jumped up, dropping pepperoni slices on the floor. Missy stumbled over and made quick work of cleaning up my mess. I ran to my room, rummaged through my bag and found Malone’s business card. I called the number. It immediately went to voicemail. (It was after midnight. I didn’t expect him to answer.)

I left a brief message letting him know I’d stop by tomorrow and that I’d remembered something that might be helpful. I left out the part about having Mona’s cell phone.

Fluffy yawned and stretched. I fingered the diamond heart again. It was possible the police would want it as evidence. Fluffy rested her big paw on my hand. Good Lord, she was a heavy dog.

Okay, first thing in the morning I’d stop by the shop, grab a backup collar. Then I’d make a quick stop at the police station, drop off Mona’s cell and explain about the obscenely expensive collar. Then I’d meet Mona’s lawyer. Maybe he’d have advice about Fluffy. It was possible the meeting was to inform me I had to hand Fluffy over to