Well heck, when did I get so predictable?
“That’s all nice and very Mona-like, but that doesn’t convince me Fluffy’s in danger or why I’m her only option for a well-adjusted life.”
Camilla regarded me with a stubborn set to her mouth and refused to say more.
“I’m not taking all of this home. I came for a brush, food and hair product.”
Camilla was suddenly in motion. “You must take her favorite bowl. And pictures. She can’t forget Miz Mona. Oh, and home movies.”
She was like a wild woman piling Fluffy’s belongings at my feet.
“I have a Jeep not a U-Haul,” I reminded her.
“She likes filtered water and her bathrobe. Nail clippers, toothbrush, breath mints, clean-up bags, vitamins…”
“Whoa. Hold on there.”
Camilla stopped in the middle of tossing the plastic bottle of vitamins.
“Give me the bowl, brush, bathing products and food.”
“No pictures?” she looked pleadingly at me.
“Fine. Pick one,” I relented.
“And a home movie?”
“You’re pushing it.”
She hid a small smile as she gathered the few items I agreed to take, loaded them into a huge designer dog bed.
“You and Fluffy get along. It will be good. You see.” She patted my arm.
“Whatever you say, Camilla. I can see you’re in charge now.”
I pretended not to see her sneak a movie, a large envelope (which was probably full of pictures) and a doggie cookbook on the pile. I didn’t want to break her heart, but I wasn’t cooking for Mona’s dog.
With Camilla’s help we carried everything to the Jeep and somehow managed to shove it all inside. (At the last minute, she’d insisted I take all of Fluffy’s tiaras and a small safe to store them. The dog actually had a safe.) I left with my Fluffy items and headed home. I couldn’t worry about the mess I was leaving behind. I had a feeling I was driving into an even bigger one.
It had been a long and stressful day. My neck was stiff, and my back was sore. I’d cleaned out the guest room (AKA junk room) and made room for Fluffy and her belongings. I left a number of items in a small box in the closet, planning to get to them later.
So far Fluffy was unimpressed with the setup and continued to nap on my bed. I crossed my fingers that by bedtime she’d prefer her own room.
A long soak in the tub was in order. But first I wanted my special peanut butter cookie and a mug of milk. My mouth watered in anticipation.
Missy and Fluffy staked out the kitchen doorway in a doggie trance waiting for me to drop dough. I’m sure the smell of freshly baked cookies was making their mouths drool. I know mine was.
I’d just pulled the last batch from the oven when my cell phone rang, interrupting my baking party. Mama’s name flashed on the screen. It rang three more times before I picked up.
“Hello, Mama.”
“I can’t believe you let me hear about Mona on the news. You were brought up better than that, Sugar.” Her confident voice and teased, bottle-blond hair carried across the miles.
I pulled out a hands-free ear bud from my junk drawer and continued transferring cookies onto the cooling rack.
“I’ve been a little preoccupied. How’s Daddy?” I asked.
My daddy was a saint. John “Jack” Langston had managed to stay married to Mama for almost thirty-five years. Mama had trapped Daddy when she was nineteen. Daddy didn’t seem to mind. (He said no one ever forced him to do anything he didn’t want to. I believed him.) Mama acted like it hadn’t really happened. But my brother Mitch existed, and at times I believed he paid the price for Mama’s reckless decision.
“He’s fine. What happened to Mona?” she asked. No,
“She was murdered.”
“Oh, Melinda. Why are you so difficult? You know what I’m talking about. Who did it? Was it an intruder or someone she knew? What happened?”
I dumped the dirty cookie sheets into the sink. I took a deep breath of patience, keeping in mind they were childhood friends. “The police don’t confide in me, Mama.”
“I heard Fluffy was the one to find her and called 9-1-1.”
I smiled. “Ah, no. Fluffy can’t use a phone. That was me.”
“You found her?”
“No, that was Fluffy.”
She was quiet for a second. I took that opportunity to fill the mixing bowl with water.
“Who has the dog, Melinda?” she asked, exasperated.
I looked at Fluffy whose eyes begged for cookies. “Me.”
“You already have a dog.” She didn’t shriek. That wasn’t acceptable from someone with her pedigree. But her normally soft Texas accent thickened.
“A number of people have more than one dog. Mona thought I should be guardian. So Fluffy’s here, either hogging my bed or sleeping on my couch.” I poured myself a mug of milk.
“Why would you ever let her share your bed? Doesn’t she have her own? What if she has fleas? Really, Melinda, don’t you think about these things?”
The vexation in her voice drummed in my ears. It was time to change the subject-or hang up. “What happened between the two of you? You and Mona.”
“Back in the day, Mona was wild and fun. But, if you got on her bad side, she could be very nasty,” she stated, more than a little vinegar in her tone. Then in the next breath, she changed her mind. “That’s all water under the bridge. It’s neither here nor there.”
“Mama-”
“It’s not important, Melinda.”
It was to me. I grabbed a warm cookie and my milk, and sat at the breakfast bar. The dogs followed and staked out the floor next to my stool.
“What did she say when she called you?” I asked.
“Honey, we haven’t talked in years. Why would she call me?”
There was no hesitation in Mama’s voice. A fire burned in my gut. Mona had lied. “She said some horrible things about you at the Fur Ball,”
“Oh, Melinda Sue. Why must you be so reckless? What have you done now?”
I broke a peanut butter cookie in half and dunked it in the milk. “Nothing you’d approve of, I can promise you that much. The only reason I’m probably not a suspect in her murder is because I have an alibi.”
“Shh. Don’t talk like that.”
“Well, someone hated her so much they killed her.” I popped my pre-bedtime snack into my mouth. Delicious.
“You’re assuming Mona was killed out of hate. It could just as easily been because of jealousy or love or money.”
I tapped the side of the mug. “Which of those would Cliff fall under?”
“All of them. That heathen is as crooked as a snake. You’re not giving him that dog, are you?”
I looked to my right at Fluffy. “He doesn’t want her.”
“Of course not.”
“Why did Mona marry him in the first place?”
“Cliff is very charming when he’s not… knee deep in his vices.”
Leave it to Mama to skirt around calling Cliff a drunk. I chowed down the other half of the cookie.
“Enough about Mona and that dreadful topic, have you heard from Mitchell lately?” She tried to sound nonchalant, but anyone who knew my mother would recognize that slight lift of her voice on my brother’s name.
