The Girl With The Dachshund Tattoo Part 21

Fallon had spilled the secret about Zippy retiring. Maybe she'd asked for that portion of her interview to not air and Stephanie had refused. They argued, and Fallon killed her. Flimsy, but possible.

My newest suspect, courtesy of MacAvoy, was Hagan Stone. If Stephanie had proof of illegal gambling, he might want to stop her any way he could. That theory had legs.

I wanted to add Lenny to my list. He certainly had the type of temper to off someone. But other than me, Stephanie was the only person who'd taken his claims of cheating seriously. I put him at the bottom of my list.

Of course, this was all before we knew how she'd died. Since MacAvoy had blood on his hand, I guessed she wasn't poisoned.

By the time we reached the crime scene, Malone and his people were already there and had taped off the area. For the second time in as many days, the dog park looked like a scene straight out of a cable police drama. Sans the foul language and naked b.u.t.ts.

"She'd better have your gun." I looked over my shoulder for Betty, but she'd disappeared again. d.a.m.n.

"Good grief. Where'd Betty go now?" I asked Darby.

She shook her head equally confused. "I-I don't know. She was behind us a minute ago."

How was it possible someone as colorful as Betty could slip away unnoticed as often as she had recently?

A small crowd had gathered. A couple of uniformed officers ushered everyone aside to allow the technicians to work uninterrupted.

Malone stepped out of the food truck. He pinned us with his steely blue eyes. I raised my hand in acknowledgment. He'd lost his leather jacket at some point in the day. He wore an average short-sleeved black T-s.h.i.+rt. Somehow, it looked intimidating on him. He moved in our direction with a deliberation that made poor Darby freeze in place.

Her eyes widened. "Why is he coming here?"

I wondered for a moment if he'd developed his deliberate walk to intimidate people like us or if that was just who he was. Either way, it worked. "Whatever the reason, answer the questions honestly," I instructed, never taking my eyes off Malone.

Darby had a history of keeping important information from the police. I hoped she'd learned her lesson. If he wanted to talk to Betty, lying about where she was or wasn't wouldn't help anyone.

He planted a hand on each of our shoulders and led us away from his crime scene and toward the park entrance gate. "Ladies. What brings you to this end of the dog park?"

I didn't bother beating around the snapdragon bush. "Is it true? Is it the filmmaker?"

He nodded, his impa.s.sive look gave nothing away.

"Does she have Betty's gun?" I pressed.

"Where is Betty?" He deflected, looking past us.

I felt Darby tense beside me. I s.h.i.+fted, uncomfortable. "I don't know. She was right behind us, but she slipped away unnoticed. Did the filmmaker have Betty's gun?"

"Yes."

"Thank goodness," Darby said with a sigh, her pent-up worry faded with Malone's one word.

"Don't thank anyone yet." His lips thinned.

My stomach sank. Somehow, I knew what he was about to say. I shook my head. "Please do not say she was shot."

He stuffed his hands inside his jean pockets. "I'm afraid so, Mel."

That explained the blood on MacAvoy's hand and why he had been as emotional as the mother of the bride on her son's wedding day. He must have touched her.

"With Betty's gun?" Darby asked in a small voice.

"I won't know that for a few days. We have to run some tests. But it's possible."

"Any sign of Richard's gun?" I grasped for anything that would s.h.i.+ft the investigation away from Betty.

"No." His voice wasn't clipped, but it wasn't rea.s.suring either.

I rubbed my temples trying to gather my thoughts and push back the throbbing pain threatening to explode from behind my eyes. "Don't get me wrong, but normally you keep this type of information to yourself. Why tell me now?"

"Since the reporter found her, he'll likely broadcast his findings on the evening news. I've asked him to keep this quiet while we investigate, but . . ." He shrugged.

Just because he asked, didn't mean the reporter would comply, especially a reporter whose top priority was to make a name for himself at a new job. "Does he know that's Betty's gun?"

Malone shook his head. "There was no need to tell him about the gun. We found blood under the victim's nails. It's possible she fought with someone."

I closed my eyes. I felt sick to my stomach. Malone had seen Betty's scratch marks. "Betty's probably a hundred pounds dripping wet. She'd never win a fight."

"Which is a motive to shoot the victim." His calm demeanor did not pacify my anxiety.

"Self-defense?" My voice broke. If I were any sicker, I'd throw up on Malone's black boots. Betty had told anyone who'd listen about her self-defense cla.s.s. Heck, she'd been showing off her moves just yesterday, acting like a martial arts, superhero action figure. For all we knew Stephanie had filmed Betty's exhibition.

Darby reached for my hand and squeezed rea.s.suringly. "You need to talk to Betty, don't you?" she addressed Malone. I was momentarily impressed with the strength in her voice. Feisty Darby had come out to play.

He ran his palm over his chin. "Officer Shughart is looking for her. Should you find her first, bring her here. To me. I still have a crime scene to process and other witnesses to talk to."

He was giving us the opportunity to find my unpredictable a.s.sistant. "Betty really was with me this time. She didn't do this," I pressed.

He c.o.c.ked his head to the side and offered me a stony face. "I don't have an exact time of death yet."

"But?" I heard it in his voice. He had a timeframe. And I wasn't going to like it one iota.

"The victim was seen alive around nine o'clock this morning. The murder could have occurred anytime between then and two this afternoon. Was Betty with you that entire time?"

I swallowed hard and shook my head.

His jaw tightened. "Find her. Now."

I believed in Betty, and, deep down, I knew Judd Malone did too. I wouldn't be me if I didn't remind him there were other suspects. "We will. Don't forget Gia Eriksen and Fallon Keller also had motive to kill her. And Gia's husband had a gun. After talking with MacAvoy, Hagan Stone had a motive too."

"I'll keep that in mind." His dry tone clearly indicated he was more than aware of the particulars and didn't appreciate my two cents. "Don't make me regret telling you about the case." He turned and walked away.

"I wouldn't dream of it," I called out.

He stopped mid-step, faced us, and asked. "Where is Mrs. Eriksen?"

"Hagan disqualified her and Zippy for suspicion of cheating and had security physically remove her," I explained, more than eager to share what I knew. "Oh. If Gia did kill her husband, and now the filmmaker, someone might want to keep an eye on Hagan Stone. Gia was none too pleased that he disqualified Zippy. She vowed to get even with him."

Malone sighed. "You just can't help yourself, can you?"

I smiled. "Not really."

"Find Betty. I'll have my team look for Gia." He stalked off.

I elbowed Darby. "You heard the man. Let's find Betty."

Chapter Twenty-Four.

"WHAT DO YOU make of all this?" Darby asked as we hustled through the park searching for Betty.

It wasn't lost on me that recently I'd spent an inordinate amount of time looking for Betty. Seriously, what could possibly require her to disappear at the most inconvenient time? I realized there was a lot about Betty that I a.s.sumed I knew.

I readjusted my backpack. "I'll admit, I thought there was something fishy going on. I mean, she should have been everywhere filming. I didn't think it was because someone had killed her. This whole thing doesn't make sense."

"Do you think the two murders are related?"

I slid Darby a sly look. "Are you poking your nose in Malone's investigation?"

My buddy's face blossomed into an attractive shade of pink. "I was just curious. I know you're thinking about it."

I laughed in delight that I was slowly pulling kindhearted Darby to the dark side. "Gia could be the killer. She had every reason to shoot her unfaithful husband. And we know Stephanie recorded Gia's threats." I grimaced. "I even told Gia that the video could be used against her."

"Her bad choices are not your fault." Darby adjusted her messenger bag. "At least we know where Betty's gun is."

The whole situation with Betty's gun was like a nightmare come to life. Why did Betty have to bring it to the race in the first place? Talk about bad choices. Sheesh. By now we'd covered the entire food area. We made our way back toward the racetrack.

"Like Malone said, that's not necessarily good. With Stephanie dead, all Malone has is Betty's word that Stephanie took her gun. And what if that gun was used to kill Richard and Stephanie? I'm not convinced this is good news for Betty. You've seen her. You can't tell me you didn't notice the red marks on the lower part of her neck."

Darby shuddered. "I'm trying not to think about it. I'm scared for her."

I was sure this whole situation stirred up unwanted memories for her. I stopped. Darby stopped next to me with a questioning gaze. I rested my hand gently on her arm. "Look, I totally understand if you need to sit this one out. I can look for Betty on my own."

She shook her head with a great deal of determination. "No way. You helped me when I was in trouble. The least I can do is help Betty."

I was all about paying it forward. But there was a big difference between settling the bill for the people behind you in the drive-up and purposely poking around in an active murder investigation.

We started walking again. I wondered where Gia was hiding and if she'd heard about Stephanie. Apparently, Darby was also thinking about Zippy's owner.

"Do you think Gia left for home once she was kicked out of the compet.i.tion?" she asked.

"Not a chance. She's already proven she doesn't handle public humiliation well," I said, referring to her brawl with Fallon.

"Hey," Darby gasped in surprise. "Is that Betty?"

I turned in the direction Darby had pointed. Sure enough, there was Betty in her ugly polyester slacks and oversized T-s.h.i.+rt sneaking off toward the street where she'd parked her Mini Cooper.

This was it. I was about to catch her in the middle of her disappearing act. "I'll be back."

"Wait. What are you going to do?"

"Malone said to find her. Well, we did. Now it's time to follow her. She's not as sneaky as the thinks she is. Besides, it's better if I find out what she's hiding than Judd Malone. He has no misgivings about tossing people in jail. Not even the grandmotherly type." I sprinted toward the parking lot where I'd left the Jeep.

Darby chased after me. "Hold on. I'm coming."

We had to run past the crime scene to reach the parking lot. I caught Malone off to the side talking to one of his officers. His head jerked in our direction as we darted past. I refused to make eye contact, worried he might order us to stop.

As soon as we reached the Jeep, I asked Darby, "Are you sure? You're the official photographer. The big race will start soon."

Darby opened the door and gently set her bag behind the pa.s.senger seat. "You're wasting time with all that talking."

A big Texas grin spread across my mouth. "I love it when you talk dirty."

I opened my door and shoved my backpack behind my seat. We scrambled inside and slammed the doors. I yanked my cell from my pocket and tossed it into the cup holder, then shoved my key into the ignition. The engine made a sad "wrrrr" sound, refusing to start.

"Seriously? Now?" I tried again. It still wouldn't start. I pounded the steering wheel. "Argh. What's the deal?"

"Come on. We'll take my car. I'm parked a couple of rows behind you."

We jumped out of my Jeep and grabbed our bags. I followed Darby to her blue Fiesta. We piled in and fastened our seatbelts.

"Betty's not the best driver," I warned.

"That doesn't surprise me," she muttered.

Thankfully, Darby's car started on the first try. She s.h.i.+fted into reverse, but the car didn't move.

"What are you waiting for? She's getting away." My voice rose in frustration. I motioned toward the direction where Betty had somehow managed to hop the curb as she sped off. Lordy, she was a horrible driver.

"Over there." Darby pointed toward a row of port-a-potties. "Is that Gia and Zippy next to the black SUV?"

Gia had changed into a pair of jeans and red halter top. Her hair was still in a ponytail, but at least she'd brushed it at some point. I wondered where she'd changed her clothes. She didn't strike me as the type to change clothes in her vehicle.

She had her back to us. It was hard to tell for sure from where we were parked, but it looked like she was loading Zippy into his car seat. "There's no way she's talked to Malone yet."

"Do you think she knows about Stephanie?"

"Honestly, I think she killed her husband. I wouldn't put it past her to kill the one person who recorded her las.h.i.+ng out in anger."

Darby's thumbs beat out an anxious rhythm on the steering wheel. "We need to choose. Do we follow Betty or Gia?"

"Gia," we said simultaneously.