The Girl With The Dachshund Tattoo Part 29

"But he killed Richard." She started to cry.

I sighed. "I figured that out. I'd rather not be shot too. Let the man have the carrier."

She dropped the handle so quickly Lenny staggered backward. Now with the carrier in his possession, he searched for the memory card he'd never find.

I mouthed for Fallon to back away from Lenny but she was too busy bawling her eyes out. I backed away from the hothead with the gun.

His head jerked up. "Where is it?" He waved the gun at her.

"It's in there. I saw you hide it," Fallon said through her tears.

"No it's not." He looked at me. Redirecting his gun at me, he said, "Where is it?"

I managed a shrug. It was hard to think with a weapon aimed at my head. "I don't know what you mean."

"The memory card from the filmmaker's camera. I hid it in here. It was perfect. You and your nosy a.s.sistant were so busy playing mystery detectives you were never at your booth. Why'd you even bother to come?"

I rolled my eyes. "Trust me I won't make that mistake again. What's on the card that's so important?" Again, that wasn't just for Malone's benefit.

"You know exactly what's on it. That stupid filmmaker was everywhere. She caught me following Richard to his car." At the sound of Richard's name, Fallon wailed even louder. "Shut up," Lenny roared. "He wasn't worth all the tears."

I agreed with him.

Fallon hissed. "I knew you were a horrible person."

"I asked her nicely to hand over the camera, but she refused. I didn't mean to break her neck, but she wouldn't stop fighting me."

I gasped as I remembered talking to Lenny in front of the chili truck that afternoon. He'd been sweaty, and his s.h.i.+rt had been ripped.

A sick smile spread across his mouth. "You remember now, don't ya? He asked, soft-voiced and crazy-eyed.

I swallowed hard. "You'd already killed her."

"But she was shot," Fallon said.

"Melinda had seen me. I had to cover my tracks, so I shot the filmmaker with the gun I found in her camera bag. I needed to frame someone. The owner of that gun was the perfect patsy."

Betty's gun. Great. I'd probably heard the gun fire, but chalked it up to the starting gun. Just like everyone else at the race.

"Get out from behind the counter," he demanded with a wave of his weapon.

I ordered Missy to stay. She didn't want to, but she sat, growling at Lenny.

"Don't be a hero, girlfriend. Please, stay." I bent down and shoved her back under the counter where she was safer.

That gave me an idea. During my college days, I was a bartender. I'd dealt with plenty of functioning drunks. Many of whom were jocks. One thing I'd learned, the bigger they were the harder they fell.

I came out from behind the counter, my back to the door. Lenny hadn't thought his instructions through very well because now he was sandwiched between Fallon and me. Not that crybaby Fallon would be much help anyway.

"Please don't hurt us," I pleaded. I eyed the three empty plastic totes.

"I want the memory card. Now," he bellowed, pointing the gun at me.

It was now or never. I dropped to a tight ball at Lenny's feet. "Don't hurt me. Please don't hurt me." I told myself not to panic. Breathe. Wait for the right moment.

"Get up," he shouted.

I could sense him leaning down to grab me. With every ounce of strength I had, I popped up as fast, and as hard, as I could, clipping him under the chin.

He stumbled backward and tripped over the storage container. He lost his balance, collapsing to the floor like a pa.s.sed-out drunk. The gun fell from his hand.

Seeing double, I scurried on my hands and knees toward the gun, grabbing it before he could stand up.

I aimed the weapon at him. "Don't move."

My eyes watered. My head felt like it was about to explode. I could hear Missy barking and Fallon yelling. I felt lightheaded. I would not pa.s.s out.

"Fallon, call 911," I said, barely above a whisper.

"No need." She pointed a shaky finger toward the front door behind me.

"Police. Don't move." Detective Judd Malone.

I lowered the gun and sat down. Malone and Officer Salinas stood behind me, firearms drawn on Lenny.

Salinas cuffed Lenny, who started to blubber about Pickles alone in the car. He wanted someone to check on him. An officer I didn't recognize ushered Fallon to my office for privacy.

"Are you okay?" Malone asked.

I thought he looked worried, but with double vision, it was hard to tell. I closed my eyes. "I'm going to have one h.e.l.l of a headache."

"The EMTs will be here in a minute."

I a.s.sured him I'd be fine. He a.s.sured me that for once I'd do as I was told without arguing. I called for Missy. She ran over to me and immediately a.s.sessed my situation.

"You did a good job, Melinda."

I smiled up at him. "There's something to be said for having a homicide detective on speed dial."

Chapter Thirty-Two.

ONCE LENNY STARTED talking, he couldn't stop. Due to his addiction to mouthwash, he'd lost his job as a personal trainer two months earlier. He'd been living out of his car ever since. Around the same time, Pickles had been diagnosed with arthritis. With his racing days numbered, Lenny was desperate for his beloved dog to experience one win before he had to hobble away.

Fallon had seen Lenny lurking around my booth at the race. She didn't know what he'd put in the carrier, but she believed it was important. Maybe next time she'll call the police before taking matters into her own hands.

Gia planned to file for bankruptcy and have an estate sale. After having an unauthorized preview of what would be up for grabs, I made a mental note to keep an eye out for the announcement.

Richard did have a life insurance policy, but neither Gia nor Fallon were the beneficiaries. Being the superst.i.tious fellow that he was, he left all five hundred thousand to charity-Save Our Doxies. Fallon was moved; Gia was honked off.

As for Hagan Stone, the official story was that he'd been arrested at LAX for tax evasion before he could jet off to his bar in the Florida Keys. I knew the real story. Grey had been responsible for the take-down of Hagan. I'd never know the details, but I was okay with that. Grey was safe, and Hagan was out of all of our lives. It was time for new beginnings.

IT HAD BEEN THREE days since Lenny had been arrested. The b.u.mp on my noggin from where I'd slammed my head into Lenny's chin was finally starting to heal. My heart, well it would take a little longer.

It was noon. My heart raced as I pulled into Grey's driveway. I'd rehea.r.s.ed my speech for what seemed the one-thousandth time. Each time I said something different. Each time the ending was the same.

With stubborn single-mindedness, I opened the door and slid out of the Jeep. I was halfway up the walkway when a white Audi Roadster raced into the driveway like a superhero ready to save the day. The sun s.h.i.+ned on the driver's side front window, making it impossible to see who had parked behind me, subsequently blocking me in.

The white door flung open. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The b.u.mp on my head had to be far worse than what the paramedics had thought, because that looked like my Mama, Barbra Langston, gliding up the driveway in her favorite Carolina Herrera chiffon lace dress.

I rubbed my eyes. No such luck. She was the real deal.

"How did you get here?" I demanded.

Her natural charming smile shone as bright as the California sun. "The private jet. You know I don't fly on those public planes. With the delays these days, and all those germs." She shuddered.

"That's not what I meant. How did you find me here?"

"You weren't at your house, which we will talk about later because that is not a house. It's barely suitable for a weekend vacation home. Anyway, you weren't at your little business either, so I came to Grey's house. And here you are."

"You have got to be kidding me. How did you know where he lived?"

She smiled mischievously. "Darlin', don't you know? We exchange birthday and Christmas cards. I have his return address."

Of course. "Go home, Mama. I'm fine."

"I will not. That is no way to greet your mother. I've come a long way to see you. You need me." I wasn't fooled by her soft feminine voice.

She glided toward me. I braced myself for the perfunctory air kiss. What I wasn't expecting was a hug. Not just any hug, but a real one, with warmth and concern. It was almost my undoing.

I pulled out of her embrace. I dragged my hand through my hair. "I'm sorry, Mama. I didn't mean to be rude."

She pursed her lips. "I've obviously surprised you."

"You could say that again," I muttered. "How about you go back to my place and I'll meet you there in a few minutes. I won't be long. We can catch up then." And find out why she really left Dallas.

Mama didn't travel domestically. If she wanted to vacation at a beach, she headed for Barbados, St. Barts, or the Dominican Republic. Not Laguna. Mama hadn't set foot here since I was a teenager, which was one of the many deciding factors of why I chose to live here.

"I'd rather catch up now. Why are you loitering outside Grey's house?"

I didn't move. I couldn't do this with her here, watching my every move. I knew from experience, her judgment was deafening when she didn't agree with my choices.

"Melinda, I'm not leaving. Not when my baby needs me. How could I stay at home knowing you needed your mama?"

And suddenly it was about her. I knew a losing battle when I was in it. "Fine. Stay outside until I tell you to come in."

She followed me up the walkway, her Jimmy Choo heels clicking a rhythm I hadn't heard in years. I pulled out my key to Grey's place and unlocked the door.

"Give me a minute to turn off the alarm." I said.

For once, she did as she was asked without debate. I slipped inside and punched in the code to deactivate the security system. "Okay, come on."

My mother followed me inside and smiled satisfied. "This is a house," she p.r.o.nounced.

I rolled my eyes. "Well, he makes a lot more money than I do."

"Melinda, you have plenty of money. You could buy ten of these-"

"Mama. Stop." I cut her off. I exhaled. It was hard enough concentrating on what I needed to do without her babbling on about my, in her opinion, lackl.u.s.ter living conditions and how I spent the family war chest.

I took the stairs two at a time to the master bedroom. I heard my mother right behind me. I kept my emotions at bay and concentrated on retrieving my brooch.

I crossed the room to the walk-in closet. Grey always kept the door open. I a.s.sumed it was part of his training: never allow an enemy a hiding spot where he could get the jump on him.

Grey's suits hung on the right side of the closet. I pushed jackets aside, looking for the one he'd worn our last night together. I found it quickly enough. I shoved my hand in the pocket and pulled out a folded note.

Melinda. My name in his handwriting.

My heart beat so fast I thought it would explode right out of my chest.

I unfolded the paper. I'm sorry.

Two simple words. Sorry for what? Lying? Keeping my brooch? Giving it back to Caro? That my mother had shown up for a visit and he wouldn't be around to run interference?

I crumbled the note in my fist.

"Bad news?" my mother asked softly.

I looked up. "You could say that."

"Tell me what happened."

I shook my head and looked away. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does."

"Grey and I broke up," I stated matter-of-factly.

"I guessed that much. What did he do?"

My jerked my head around and stared at her. I narrowed my eyes. "What did you say?"

She sighed the exasperated sigh I'd heard my entire life. "It's times like this when I wish I still smoked." She paced around the room nervously.