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“You’re mad, aren’t you?” she asked.
I brushed away her question as if it were a fly. “Nope. As a matter of fact, Daniel and I had coffee with her today.”
“For real?” Greta’s shock humored me. “Wow, I thought with the whole Nick thing, you and she were still at odds with one another. But coffee? Was there poison involved?”
I giggled. “LOL. It seems she and I have landed on a patch of common ground.” A wave of relief washed over her face, a calmness settling in her sea-green eyes. “I’ve been so worried about you finding out we’re friends. For the record, I don’t agree with what she and Nick did. But in her defense, she didn’t know he was involved with you, in the beginning. He’s a smooth talker.”
“Trust me, I know.” I hoped karma paid the two-timing jerk a delightful visit soon. “Stacia opened up to us regarding her family and growing up. I didn’t know she was from the Dallas area.”
“She doesn’t like to talk about her past, especially about her father,” Greta said.
I played the ignorant card. “I’m guessing they didn’t get along.”
“Not at all. Like I said, she prefers not to speak about him, but I know her being a police officer directly conflicts with his line of work.”
Bingo. “Must’ve put a strain on their relationship,” I said, wondering how much Greta knew. “A strain is putting it mildly. Her father, and his risky business, are the reasons she transferred here. I don’t blame her for keeping her distance.”
I took the bait. “What did you mean by ‘risky’ business?”
She whispered, “As in illegal.”
Loose lips sink ships was something Mama used to say. Despite Greta spilling Stacia’s secrets to me, I didn’t believe she meant any harm. Before I could ask what she meant by illegal, Daniel pranced into the lobby empty-handed, sporting a cheesy grin.
“Where’s Farah?” I asked.
He gestured behind him.
Cuff skulked in with Farah at his side. She rubbed and nuzzled him as if he wore a catnip collar, and a disgruntled grumble rumbled from his tiny closed muzzle. The three of us chuckled at the sight. With his tail tucked between his legs, Cuff slinked over to his bed and lay down. Farah nestled beside him. He eyed me.
“Cuff, you’re such a sweetheart to share your bed,” I said.
TTTP, Chiquita.
Huh?
Talk to the paw! He squeezed his eyes closed and pretended to sleep.
Farah’s purrs sounded like a tractor motor.
“Farah doesn’t like dogs. I’m completely shocked,” Greta said.
“Cuff isn’t like a normal dog. He doesn’t bite. He doesn’t drool. And he doesn’t have the typical in-your-face dog trait,” I said.
“And apparently he can communicate telepathically with Steely,” Daniel added, winking at me. “Really?” I said to him.
He shrugged and removed a red bandana strip from the jar. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Steely. I’m sure all pet owners talk to their pets.” He bent over Farah and tied a perfect bow around her fluffy neck. He patted both animals on their heads.
“Farah and I talk all the time. Don’t we, sweet girl? Meow, meow!” Greta said.
The cat’s head swiveled toward us, her big green eyes sparkling, and she returned a meow. “What did she say, Greta?” Daniel asked, bounding to the counter.
“That red is definitely her color,” Greta said.
“Speaking of color, your hair looks fabulous, Greta!” Daniel said.
She ran a hand through her sparkly hair. “Thanks. Sadie did it for me.”
Daniel snapped. “Thanks for reminding me. I’m running next door to see if Sadie can fit us in this week. Steely, what day is best for you?”
I mentally scanned my schedule. With Stoney officially on maternity leave, her duties of filing, bookkeeping, and scheduling appointments added to my managerial work. “Get me a few open dates and times, and I see what works best,” I told him.
“Okay, byeeee!” Daniel flew out the door.
I seized the opportunity. “Greta, before you go, what did you mean earlier when you said Stacia’s father’s business was risky and illegal?” I wanted to see how much she knew.
“When we first started hanging out, she told me her dad is a mob ...” She did a face-palm. Her eyes filled with dread. “Oh, no. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Greta, don’t worry about it. The information won’t travel outside these walls.” Since Jackson and Agent Smalls already knew about Vincent Ruffini, it was the truth.
“Thank you, Steely.” Relief washed over her face as she zipped her purse and looped the strap over her shoulder. “Sometimes, I say too much without thinking first.”
Identifying with the open mouth, insert foot condition, I knew how she felt.
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SITTING BEHIND THE counter and trying to put my thoughts together about my conversation with Greta, Vivienne Peacock stormed into the shop. I had nowhere to run. No place to hide. Scowling, she wore one of those thin, plastic sunglasses the optometrist gives you after dilating your eyes. The murky green contraption stretched across her face. Her strawberry blonde hair was swept up into a high bun that clashed with her lime-green pantsuit. Resembling a large bowl of sherbet ice-cream with a cherry on top, she tossed a pile of grass-stained linen sheets and a clump of wire on the counter. Mrs. Peacock, in the shop, tapping the toe of her chunky, black, open-toed sandal. I cringed at the nude hose cloaking her toes—a direct violation in my fashion book.
Vivienne tore the protective shades from her face and shoved them into her purse. “I expect you to have these dry cleaned, the stains removed, before returning them to me. I can’t believe you two, rolling down the hill like a couple of hooligans in such fine linen.” She rolled her squinty eyes and jabbed a finger at the wire. “And what is the meaning of this?”
Uh oh, Chiquita. She stinks of anger.
Anger has a scent?
I glanced down at the wire device I’d worn (and lost) the evening before. I shrugged. “It’s not mine.” Not exactly a lie.
With giant, black pupils, she scrutinized me. “Nice try. I found it tangled in the toga you wore.” She stacked her fists on her hips. “I demand to know why.”
I pinched my lips to keep from laughing. “Why what?” I scrambled to come up with a good excuse. “Don’t play games with me, missy. Were you and Gertie wearing a wire so that y’all could get me in trouble about our new member ceremony? Was I part of some dumb investigation for your neighborhood watch program?”
“No, but—”
“But nothing. It doesn’t matter what you say. I’m convinced the only reason you two joined was to pull a mean prank on me. For Pete’s sake, the news hit the front page! After twenty-one years of
confidentiality and tradition, you two ruined it. Thanks to y’all, we must change our ceremony! I gave a lot of thought about rejecting your membership after pulling such a stunt.”
My scrambling thoughts ceased. She’d handed me the perfect alibi on a gold platter, so I bowed my head in apology.
“You’re right. You caught us. We understand if you don’t allow us to join.”
Her contorted face resembled a blended cocktail of delight, mischief, and a splash of spite. “Not so fast. I can think of a more appropriate punishment, Ms. Smarty-Pants. Remember this, game over. I won.” She winked.
“You won what?”
Her face morphed into a malevolent grin, and I waited for her to scream, “I’ll get you, my pretty!” but she didn’t. “It seems I have landed myself not one—but two—Lamarr women as honorary, lifetime members. You’re mine now, sweetie.” She had delivered a worse sentence for our crime. Vivienne gathered herself with a huff, turned on her heels, and flew out the front door, cackling.
“I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”
If it were me, Chiquita, I would cry.
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I HANDED THE WIRE DEVICE to Agent Smalls.
“She thinks we joined her society as a joke. To punish us for exposing the ceremony to the public, she’s making us lifetime members.” Exposing. Did I really just go there? I studied Smalls, making sure he didn’t crack a smile at my terrible word choice. Oh jeez—crack—I did it again! Smalls didn’t even blink. “Vivienne considers having two Lamarr women onboard a victory. Trust me, I’m not thrilled.”
“How did she know the wire belonged to you?” Jackson asked.
I pointed to the soiled sheets on the counter. “She found it tangled in what remained of my toga. Sort of hard to deny, don’t you think?”
“True,” Jackson said.
The shop phone rang. I glanced at the caller ID.
“It’s Melinda Goldberg. She’s the one whose husband bought her one of the stolen puppies,” I said, covering the receiver.
“Put her on speakerphone,” Agent Smalls said as I reached for the phone.
I did. “Hi there, Melinda. Can I help you?”
“I didn’t know who else to call. I’m worried about Frida Ulrich,” she said.
“Why, what’s going on?”
“Well, she called me and said the man who’s selling the French bulldogs contacted her. He asked $6500 for the puppy she’s wanting.”
I recalled Frida announcing at the society meeting she was interested in buying a French bulldog puppy.
“$6500 is an obscene amount of money. I hope she ... wait, Melinda, you said the seller contacted her. How did he get her phone number?”
“I don’t know. Anyway, the seller claimed he had several other offers. And if she wanted the dog, she better act quickly because he was leaving town soon.”
Agent Smalls and Jackson put their heads together, whispering.
“It’s probably for the best. The deal sounds sketchy.”
“Steely, she agreed to his price.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yup. She withdrew every penny out of her bank account. And it gets worse. She’s meeting the seller right now in the You Snuff ’em & We Stuff ’em parking lot, alone. I told her not to, but she wouldn’t listen. Steely, I don’t want to overreact, but I’m afraid she may be in trouble.”
Agent Small’s scribbled on the back of an invoice, then flashed it at me. Tell her not to worry. And you’ll go check it out. Then get off the phone.
I recited the message to Melinda and told her a customer had walked in. As I hung up, Agent Smalls and Jackson dashed out of the shop, jumped in Jackson’s police car, and headed in the taxidermy shop’s direction. I wanted to follow them, but Daniel and Cuff were out for a walk. Daniel didn’t have his key, and I didn’t want to leave the shop unlocked.
Ten minutes later, Jackson called. They found Frida crying in the parking lot, locked out of her car. A male wearing a plastic dog mask had stolen all her cash. Frida said the mask looked like part of a cheap Halloween costume. When he’d shown up, he didn’t have a puppy. He robbed her at gunpoint, forced her to lock her car doors with the keys in it, and left her stranded. Her cell phone was also inside the car. Jackson stayed to work the scene.
Agent Smalls returned and coached me through a phone call to Vivienne. Frida had told them Vivienne might know how to contact the seller, but Vivienne denied knowing anything. Vivienne’s stammering voice filled my office over the phone’s speaker. “I didn’t give Frida’s phone number to anyone. And I didn’t arrange any dog deal for Frida to meet up with anyone. Why does everyone keep asking me about stupid puppies? I don’t like dogs! I do not, nor have I ever had contact with a person selling dogs!” Her voice bordered on hysteria. “And what business is it of yours, anyway?” I repeated the response Agent Smalls jotted down in front of me. “After the incident, Frida called me, looking for Officer Jackson. She’d seen his car parked out front when she drove past. And I’m concerned about our friend, Vivi.” The sugar-coated tone I slathered on her nickname pained me to utter. A few dead-silent seconds passed. “Yes, I’m worried about her as well. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry she endured such a trauma. I’ll call and check in on her. But I wish folks would please stop saying I have any association with this dog seller.”
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JACKSON STOPPED BY after he finished taking Frida’s statement. The police didn’t have much to go on, except for the person who robbed Frida was a small-framed male and drove a single-cab red Chevy truck. “Do you believe Vivienne claiming she knows nothing about the person selling the Frenchies?” I asked Jackson, sitting in a chair across from my desk. “I find it interesting the only people the seller is contacting are those in her circle of friends.”
“I don’t know what to think or believe,” he said.
“Can y’all bring Vivienne in for official questioning?”
Frustration plagued his face. “Sure, if the chief wants her to bring down a load of hellfire and fury on the department. We need to gather more evidence. And let’s hope we nail this gun-wielding murderer before he hurts or kills anyone else.”