The Girl With The Dachshund Tattoo Part 4

"I need your handgun, Mrs. Foxx."

"That's going to be a problem," I muttered.

Malone's cheek muscle twitched. "Why?"

"The girl with the dachshund tattoo took it," Betty explained, edging closer to the detective.

He stopped her with a look. She batted her eyes and smiled. He shook his head, not willing to entertain her flirtatious behavior.

"Who?" he asked me.

I shrugged. "I don't have a name. She's filming a dogumentary, The Long and the Short of It. I don't suppose you've seen her?" For a crazy second I allowed myself to believe he knew where to find the missing woman, along with Betty's missing gun.

"No." He was annoyed. The one-word sentences were a dead giveaway.

I pulled out the business card she'd given to Betty and handed it to him. "We've been looking for her. That's what we were doing when Richard was killed."

"You were together?"

"Yes."

"No," I said at the same time as Betty lied.

"You want to answer that again?" he asked Betty.

A nervous smile toyed with the corners of her mouth. "I was right behind Cookie; she just didn't see me."

Oh. My Gosh. She was making this a hundred times worse. "Can we have a minute?" I grabbed Betty's elbow and started to drag her toward the dog park for a one-on-one chat to explain, again, why she had to keep her lips zipped.

"No."

We froze.

"I want you both to stand over there by the trees with Officer Salinas and give him a description of this . . . woman. And you,"-he pointed at Betty-"you will behave yourself until I get back. When I do, we will have a private discussion. Understood?"

Betty's grey eyes sparkled with romantic interest. She tossed Malone an exaggerated wink. "I'm saving all my lovin' for you, big fella."

Awkward silence hung in the air. His mouth opened, then it snapped shut. He closed his eyes for a second. I swear he looked like he was praying for patience. He turned his frustration in my direction. "Watch her."

He bellowed for Salinas, and they chatted discreetly for a couple of seconds. Once Malone had finished with his instructions, he stalked off toward the crime scene while we followed Officer Salinas in the opposite direction toward the dog park. We ended up waiting near the food tents. My stomach rumbled as the aroma of fried foods filled my nose.

Betty opened her purse and pulled out her designer lip gloss. "I knew he liked me. It was only a matter of time before he recognized my animal magnetism."

I pulled her a few feet away from where Salinas stood. He never turned his head, but I knew he was watching us.

"This isn't a joke. You're in trouble. And the only activity Malone is interested in is arresting you."

"I know my way around a pair of handcuffs, Cookie." Betty wiggled her smeared lipstick eyebrows.

I didn't doubt her for a second. "Where were you? Really."

"I told you. I was right behind you."

I wanted to believe her, but she was acting cagier than usual. "What about before then? We were apart for over thirty minutes."

She snapped her purse shut. "Melinda, I didn't kill anyone."

I am far from a hand-wringer, but cold apprehension rooted itself in my gut. That was the first time Betty had ever called me by my name. I didn't believe for one minute she'd hurt anyone, but she was hiding something. And I knew from experience that never ended well.

Betty stared over my shoulder toward the park entrance. "Hey, Cookie. I thought you said your man was in New York."

"He is."

"Well, he's back."

It felt like my knees would buckle under the weight of anxiety that rippled through my body. What was Grey doing here?

There was zero time to formulate a plan. Not that it mattered. I worked best shooting from the hip. I sucked in the fresh air and pulled myself together.

As Grandma Tillie told me the night before I left for my freshman year at Stanford, "You gotta risk it, to get the biscuit."

Chapter Five.

I HESITATED, AND I hated it. That wasn't me. I was an all-in-and-never-look-back kind of woman. Grey and I have an on-again-off-again history. During the "off" times, I had never doubted we'd end up together. Until now. I felt insecure and unsure. The worst part was that I had no one to blame but myself.

I took a couple of tentative steps toward him, then stopped. "Hey."

"Hey, yourself," he said.

No one could pull off a tailored Tom Ford suit like Grey. My pulse raced as I waited for him to make the first move. I counted my heartbeats: one . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . six. Finally, he bent down and brushed his lips against mine. I closed my eyes and breathed in his woodsy aftershave scent.

"What are you doing here?" I asked as I opened my eyes.

"I've been rea.s.signed," he said softly.

I looked around making sure no could hear us. "You don't look happy about that. I'm sorry." The weight of those last two words hung so heavy between us it felt like I could pluck them out of air.

I reached out to caress his rugged face. My breath caught as he pulled back, and I glimpsed the hurt in his blue eyes. We still had unfinished business to discuss.

He trapped my hand and held it against his chest. I felt his strong heartbeat under my palm.

"Where's your ring?" he asked.

This wasn't the time or the place to confess I wasn't sure he wanted me wearing it. Heck, I didn't know if we were "on" or "off" at this point.

"I set it on the bathroom counter this morning getting ready. I forgot to put it back on."

We searched each other's face for some type of rea.s.surance. I wasn't sure if he found what he was looking for. I know I didn't, and it scared me. He released my hand. It shook as I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Why are the police here?"

I cleared my throat, thankful for a change in topics. "Richard Eriksen, one of the owners, was shot on the canyon road. He's dead."

"Are you okay?"

I nodded. After a quick glance over my shoulder, I said, "But I'm afraid Betty might be in trouble." I quickly filled him in from the beginning, up to the last conversation with Malone.

"What do you think she was doing?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I don't know. She's not saying. You know, she has a thing for you. Maybe if you asked her . . ."

He placed his palm on the small of my back. "Let's go talk to her."

As we made our way back to my a.s.sistant, I savored the feel of his hand. I missed the natural connection we shared.

"Hey, good-lookin'," Betty cooed. "Cookie said you were in New York. I guess you couldn't stay away."

Grey bent down and kissed her wrinkled cheek. "You're looking good yourself. Melinda tells me you're in a bit of trouble."

She waved her hand. "You know Cookie. She's exaggerating."

"Hardly." I rolled my eyes in exasperation at her insistence on making light of the situation.

Grey unb.u.t.toned his suit jacket. "The police do not play games. If you can tell them exactly where you were, and who you were with, that helps them rule you out, and concentrate on finding the person who did this."

Betty scrutinized him. "You seem to know an awful lot about how the police work."

Grey shoved his hands in his pockets. "And you're changing the subject."

"You think the police believe I shot that idiot?" Betty huffed.

"You've got to stop calling him that." I looked over my shoulder double-checking Salinas wasn't close enough to overhear Betty's rant.

"Even if it's true?" she asked.

"Yes."

"From what Mel's said, I'd be surprised if you weren't a suspect." Grey, the voice of reason, leveled a stern look her way.

"I didn't shoot anyone. Isn't there some kind of test they can run? I thought these coppers were smart now, with their new technology."

Grey studied a group of crime-scene techs walking toward their van. "We could ask them to run a test for gunshot residue."

I groaned. "No good. Betty glommed onto Malone like a leach when he first arrived. He'd been at the firing range. Chances are Betty's got residue all over her."

She examined her top. "I don't see anything."

Grey shook his head. "You won't."

Betty crossed her arms. "Well, I didn't do anything wrong. I don't care how crazy s.e.xy that Malone is, he can't make me confess to a crime I didn't commit."

GREY STEPPED AWAY to take a call while Betty and I waited for Malone, who was taking an extra-long time to return. Lenny and Pickles hung off to the side. Smart, since he'd publicly argued with the dead guy's wife.

I spotted Darby surrept.i.tiously snapping pictures of the crowd standing behind the crime scene tape. She still had Missy with her. I waved for her to join us. She rushed over, Missy b.u.mbling behind her.

"I've been looking for you two," Darby blurted. "What's going on?"

"Cookie's hunk-of-burning-love is back."

Darby's eyebrows disappeared beneath her blond bangs. "Grey's here?"

"Surprise," I sang out. I bent down and hugged Missy's stocky body, hiding my unease at Grey's unexpected appearance. After a few kisses on her head, I rubbed her behind the ears. She happily licked my face. With a quick shake, she showered me with bulldog drool. I wiped the back of my hand on my jeans.

"Thanks for taking care of her." I stood and accepted the leash from Darby.

"Anytime. Sooo . . . we're not talking about Grey right now?"

I shook my head. "No. I, uh . . . I stumbled over another dead body."

Darby and I had discovered Laguna's celebrated plastic surgeon Dr. O'Doggle, who'd been strangled and left for dead, outside my boutique not too long ago.

Darby gasped. "What? Who?"

"Ricky-d.i.c.ky," Betty spat out. She pulled a dog biscuit from her handbag and slipped it to Missy who eagerly chomped the treat.

"What happened?"

"When I was looking for Betty, I found him instead. He's been shot."

"Was Zippy with him?"

"No. Hopefully Malone's crew is looking for him."

"Did you find Betty's gun?" Darby whispered.

Betty waved her hands in front of our faces. "h.e.l.lo. I'm standing right here."

"Sorry," Darby said, sheepishly.

"Not yet. Did you find the filmmaker?"

Darby shook her head. "Do you think they'll postpone the last few races?"