“She began to spend a significant amount of time away from the house. Upon occasion, she’d asked me to drive without a specific destination.”
“Come on now. You went for a joy ride around Laguna?” Please, this wasn’t my first rodeo. You couldn’t waste more than thirty minutes driving around town.
“San Diego and LA mostly,” he said.
As my Daddy would say, “he was as serious as the business end of a.45.” How crazy was Mona? Did she think she was being followed? Was she hiding from someone? Or maybe she was really that shallow and bored, and craved adoration even from perfect strangers.
“You never stopped. She didn’t get out? No one got in and drove with you?” I asked.
He shook his head and shrugged his shoulder as if to say he couldn’t explain her either. “It was always Ms. Michaels and Fluffy.” His forehead wrinkled. “There was this one time, the pet psychic came along.”
Now we’re talking people. “Did you tell the police?”
“I didn’t recall until now,” he reminded me.
“When was Jo with you? Where’d you go?”
“I believe it was right before the Fur Ball. We picked up the psychic at her business, then drove to San Clemente. I dropped them off for approximately an hour.”
For someone who didn’t remember all of this important information until thirty seconds ago, he suddenly seemed to have total recall. “Where did you take them?”
“I don’t recollect.”
I spoke too soon. “Please try, Alex. It could be important. Where did you go?”
His intelligent brown eyes clouded with disappointment. “I’m sorry, Ms. Langston. I truly don’t remember. I do keep a log at the garage. If you really think it’s important, I can look up the information and get back to you.”
“Please do. Did you hear their conversation?”
He shifted his weight. “You understand, part of my job is to
This is what I was picking up on. He didn’t want to seem disloyal, but he’d sought me out for a reason. “Sometimes you can’t help it. Maybe what you accidentally overheard could help find her killer.”
His lips thinned, and he turned a wee bit pompous. “I signed a confidentiality agreement. I should not have shared what I have.”
He was making me crazy with his back and forth. “Normally, I’d agree. But your boss is dead. She was murdered. I’m sure she’d rather you help find her killer than to keep quiet because of some standard contract every employee in southern California signs.”
He cleared his throat. “The psychic told Mona Fluffy didn’t like to wear the crown.”
That was it? That’s what had him twisted in knots like a scared virgin on her wedding night?
That wasn’t a big dark secret, which once revealed would save Darby. Well, hells bells. “Trust me, she likes the crown.” Sarcasm dripped from each word.
Even I had liked the crowns. At least in the beginning. But then I realized the crowns didn’t belong to me. They belonged to my mama. And my Aunt Kat. But never me-the one who’d strutted her stuff across the stage like a 4-H calf at the Texas State Fair.
“Was Mona upset? Mad? Did she believe her?” Did she laugh in Jo’s face? Because I sure the heck would have.
A crooked smile tilted the edge of his mouth, and his eyes softened. “I believe her exact words were, ‘Don’t be a stupid cow.’”
I laughed. Now that sounded like Mona. He must have misinterpreted my amusement.
“Mrs. Michaels didn’t have a lot of friends,” Alex explained needlessly. “Her personality was… difficult.”
He tugged at his collar. “They talked quietly most of the time, but I could tell she was upset.”
He was downplaying the interaction between them. I set my mug on the coffee bar and closed the space between us, hoping I was instilling confidence. “How upset?”
“She said, ‘To me you’re dead. I’ve already said my good-byes.’” He recited the words as if he were auditioning for a Shakespearean play.
Jo did it. Jo killed Mona. I knew it.
I wanted to jump up and down and clap my hands like a goon. If I’d been alone, I’d have line danced from one end of the store to the other.
I gripped his arm. “Thank you, Alex.”
“It would be,” he cleared his throat and looked around the empty shop, “inconvenient if it got out that I told you this.”
“I understand. I won’t say anything unless I have to. But I can’t let an innocent person be accused of a crime she didn’t commit.”
“Of course not. Well, I won’t keep you any longer. I came by to give you this.” He pulled a small electronic device from his sports coat pocket and held it in the palm of his hand.
“What the heck is it?” I asked, looking it over.
“Fluffy’s digital video camera. It attaches to her leather collar.”
“She wore this?”
“Upon occasion.”
“You’re kidding me? How does it work?” I could sell a ton of pet video cameras. A day in the life of your pet would be an instant best seller.
Alex gave me a crash course on the FAQs. It attached to the collar with a special clip on the backside. The rechargeable battery lasted approximately five hours. It recharged and downloaded the recording with a USB cable attached to a computer.
“I found it under the backseat on the passenger side. It must have fallen out of Ms. Michaels purse,” he explained.
It was possible the camera may have recorded something important. Determination exploded in my chest. I wanted to close the shop, go home and watch it.
I knew she couldn’t have recorded the murder, but maybe she had somehow recorded evidence. What if she’d recorded that last conversation between her and Jo? What if that was already downloaded on her computer? Excitement bubbled with each possibility.
I had to get back to Mona’s.
“Please don’t let Mr. Michael’s know that I gave this to you,” Alex asked.
“Sure. Whatever you say,” I answered absently before it registered what he’d said. I looked up and asked, “What? Why?”
“He wanted it, but Mrs. Michaels refused to give it to him.”
Mona could have refused to hand it over because she was mean and nasty. But that didn’t explain why Cliff wanted it.
Before I could ask more questions, the shop door swung open, and television teen star Shar Summers waltzed inside, her Chinese Crested, Babycakes, nestled in the crook of her arm. As God is my witness, Babycakes was one ugly dog. Shar, on the other hand, was adorable. They were both so tiny they could be mistaken for keychain charms.
Pooch and human were decked out in hot pink. Hairless by breed, the pup was wrapped in a pink “fur” coat, which perfectly matched Shar’s faux fur vest. They were also wearing black Uggs, Babycakes sporting the doggie kind.
Only the actress wore pink leggings, apparently that was the imaginary line Shar didn’t cross-pants for her dog. Go figure.
I caught Alex’s horrified look before he recovered and molded a neutral expression to his face. A chuckle lodged in my throat.
“Looks like someone threw up a bottle of Pepto-Bismol, and it splashed all over them,” I whispered.
“Indeed.”
“Excuse me for a moment,” I said, and quickly met the cutesy twosome at the counter. “Hey, Shar. I’m glad
