The Girl With the Dachshund Tattoo (23 page)

Confession time. I’m a grown woman, but I was afraid to get in the car with Betty. I didn’t have a phobia about tiny cars, but I didn’t exactly feel safe riding in them. The majority of my fear came from Betty’s horrible driving. The last time I’d ridden with her, I hadn’t been sure we’d survive the experience.

I hesitated, my hand on the passenger door handle. “Do you think I could drive?”

She looked at me over the top of her Mini Cooper. “Do you know where we’re going?”

“Not yet. But I can follow directions.”

She opened her door. After a throaty laugh, she said, “No one drives my car but me. Get in.”

I’m not Catholic, but I crossed myself. Insurance. At least I had my seatbelt fastened before she backed out of the parking space at record speed. She slammed the car into drive and stepped on the gas. I grabbed the Oh-Crap handle above my head, flashing back to our last memorable drive together.

“Do you think you could stay off the sidewalk this time?” I squeezed one eye shut and cringed as she narrowly avoided clipping a parked Land Rover.

She gripped the steering wheel like she was a NASCAR driver. She turned her head and looked me. “You’re too wound up. You gotta learn to relax.”

“How? You drive like a manic.” I gasped in terror. “Watch the road.”

My life flashed before my eyes. I was going to die and miss my dinner with Grey. It was suddenly clear what I needed to do to make it up to Grey.

Betty ran a yellow light, turned onto Pacific Coast Highway, and headed north. She gunned it coming out of the turn, slamming me against the door.

“Did you get your license out of a box of Cracker Jacks?”

I could practically feel my teeth grinding to dust, my jaw was clenched so tightly. I was afraid I’d cry out like a school girl every time the passenger tires blipped onto the shoulder, but I held it inside, lest she mock me for the remainder of our time together.

“I’m a fantastic driver.”

“No. You’re not. You switch lanes as often as a mother changes her newborn’s diapers.”

“I like to make time.”

“I like to arrive at my destination alive.”

Betty slammed on the brakes and hung a left into a gated community. She rolled up to the security gate and punched in the security code. I flashed a sideways glance. She was definitely full of her own secrets. This wasn’t just any gated community. The cheapest mansion behind the gilded gate was a measly twenty-five million. In order to live here someone had to vouch that you weren’t a fraud or criminal, and have a substantial amount of cash in the bank.

We wove our way through the meticulously kept neighborhood where even the soaring palm trees that lined the quiet streets were prestigious. The residential speed bumps were the only thing slowing down Racecar Betty.

She finally found the long driveway she was looking for. She pulled through and parked next to the bungalow hidden behind the huge mansion in the front.

“Who lives here?” I had to pry my fingers from the handle.

“Me.”

I did a double take. Someone else was secretly loaded. “Okay then. I see you don’t need my money.”

“Nope. My daughter’s husband has plenty of dough, and they pity me, so they’re always paying me off. Enough about those losers. I need your help.” Betty opened her door and jumped out. “Now I don’t let just anyone in here. Swear on your Grandma Tillie’s brooch you won’t tell Valerie I let you inside. She’ll take it personally, and I’ll have to deal with her sniveling for weeks.”

I climbed out of the car. I stretched my leg, working out the muscle cramp from being sandwiched inside her tiny clown car. “I won’t say a word.”

I followed her up the stone walkway to an adorable stucco guesthouse with flower boxes in the windows. Charming and inviting. I was a little nervous as to what waited on the other side of the door. Betty paused with her palm on the handle. A pathetic whining came from inside.

I gave her a long assessing look. What had she gotten herself into? “Is that coming from inside your house?”

“Yes. Now, don’t dawdle. Come straight inside and shut the door. You have to move quickly. Got it?”

No, I didn’t get it. “Whatever you say.”

She unlocked the door and practically shoved me inside. My mouth dropped open.

Holy cow. Betty’s cute little dream house looked like she’d hosted a frat party. Garbage, clothes and shoes littered the tile entryway and front sitting room. An overstuffed recliner had been knocked on its side, and two of her potted plants had been demolished.

“What the hell happened to your house?”

“Raider.”

I tore my eyes off the mess and looked at Betty, more concerned than I’d been five minutes ago. “What or who is a Raider?”

A large Saint Bernard with used tissues and food wrappers stuck to his face bound down the hallway and into the sunlit room. He jumped onto Betty, knocking her to the floor. He licked her face over and over, slobber dribbling down her shirt. Raider’s slobber. Not Betty’s.

“Him.” She wrapped her arms around his thick neck and buried her face in his fur, giggling.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“YOU HAVE A DOG? Since when?”

I straddled the massive beast and pulled him off Betty. Good grief he was strong. He thought I was playing and knocked me on my butt.

“Sit,” I ordered. He walked over me and pranced his way back to Betty.

“I found him last week.” She pushed him back as she gathered her feet under her.

I scrambled to my feet and helped her stand. “He’s a stray?”

“No. He’s my dog. And before you get all crazy, I’ve already had Dr. Darling look him over and give him all his vaccinations.”

That explained Betty’s secret visit to Daniel.

“I read up on Saint Bernards on the Internet. They’re supposed to be slow and lazy. But he runs around like a furry freight train destroying everything in his path.”

“I can see that. Betty, he can’t be more than eighteen months old. He’s still in the puppy stage. I’m sure as he gets older, he’ll calm down, but for now he’s going to have a lot of energy. Is this why you’ve been disappearing?”

Raider ran down the hallway and brought back a Kong chew toy and dropped it at Betty’s feet. She patted his head lovingly. “Look around, Cookie. He’s destroyed my place. If Valerie sees this she’ll insist I get rid of Raider.”

I looked around. “She may have a point this time. He’s chewed your furniture, dragged your garbage throughout the house.” I picked up an empty box of dog treats. “Did you take this yesterday?”

She grabbed the box from my hand. “I’ll pay for it. He eats a lot, and he’s never satisfied with one treat.”

At the word “treat,” Raider left his toy and trotted into the kitchen. He barked. I held back my laughter. Betty shuffled to the kitchen and pulled a handful of treats out of a plastic container on the dining table. Was this the same woman who ordered Luis to put Barney on a diet?

“Last night he ate my favorite animal-print lounge suit. He doesn’t like to be alone so I come home every couple of hours to check on him. I’m exhausted.” She tossed him the treats. He dropped to the tile and immediately chomped on his snack.

“Separation anxiety,” I said.

“No. I think he doesn’t like to be left alone.”

“That’s what I said.” I looked around the room. “You need help.”

“That’s why you’re here. I thought we could take shifts—”

“Oh, no. This is not my area.” I held up my hand. “I can’t help you in the way you need. You need to train him. Now. Teach him who’s the alpha dog. If you keep him, and he continues to jump on you, he could injure you.”

“What do you mean, ‘if I keep him’? Why wouldn’t I?”

“Think about it for a second. When he’s full grown, he’ll weigh two hundred pounds. More, if you keep overfeeding him treats. He could knock you over with his tail. Besides, full grown, he won’t fit in your car.”

“I’ll buy a new car,” she said stubbornly.

I rubbed my eyebrow. “I can’t believe I’m about to suggest this, but if you’re serious, you need to call Caro.”

“Your sneaky cousin?” Betty slipped Raider another treat.

I nodded. “She can help you.”

“You’re okay with me hanging out with your archenemy?”

Raider had left about a cup of slobber on the kitchen tile. Good grief, Betty could slip and fall if she didn’t keep on top of his drool. “Where do you get this stuff? Caro and I are not archenemies. We’re family. We’re just not speaking.”

“It’s the same thing, Cookie. But don’t you worry. I won’t spill your secrets.”

I found the roll of paper towels next to the kitchen sink. I grabbed a handful and mopped up the mess. “Where’s the garbage?”

Betty pointed to the cabinet under the sink.

“I don’t have any secrets from Caro.”

“I thought you were a smart one. We all have secrets.”

I wanted to argue with her, but I did have a secret, or two. Talking about secrets brought to mind Grey. I needed to get back to the dog park; I had a date in a few hours.

“We need to get back to the park and gather our merchandise. I’ll need a jump, too.” Shoot, I might need a new battery. “Forget the kennel—get a baby gate and close him in the kitchen.”

“Great idea. Do you think the final race is over?” she asked.

“It’s likely. I think the participants are impatient with all the delays.”

“I can’t believe you left our merchandise alone. Someone could take everything and wipe us out.”

I glanced at her incredulously. “Excuse me, but I wasn’t the only one who left the premises.”

“It’s your shop.”

I sighed. There was no way to win. “Line up the chairs and trap him in the kitchen. Hopefully he’ll only gnaw on the legs until you get back.”

IT WAS TOUCH AND go, but we made it back to the dog park alive. Hell would have to freeze over before I’d let her drive me again. I shuddered, reliving the terrifying journey. In an effort to keep my sanity on the drive back, I’d blathered on about how Darby and I had followed Gia, and how Malone had dragged her in for questioning.

By the time we reached the park, it was five o’clock. The area wasn’t deserted, but it wasn’t brimming with people either. We missed the last race by thirty minutes. Darby had barely made it back in time to take pictures.

An unknown racer named Lucky Lacey had won the heavyweight race. Barney had finished a respectable third place. Not bad for his first year. Luis immediately started to make plans for next year’s race.

Most of the vendors had already packed up and evacuated. Quinn, the pet bakery owner, had left a note. Bless her heart she had instructed my customers to stop by my shop. Betty and I were packing the merchandise when we saw Fallon and her picket sign head toward the exit. I asked Betty to hold down the fort.

“Hey, Fallon. Hold up,” I called out, running to catch up to her.

She turned around and glared at me through slitted eyes. “What do you want?”

I sucked in a breath. If at all possible, she looked worse than Gia. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised; Fallon had been on the losing end of the fight. “Do you need to go to the clinic?”

“Where do you think I’ve been?” She pointed to the bandage stuck to her temple. “Did you want something specific or to just gawk at me? I’ve had enough people staring at me today.”

I excused her cranky attitude. “I heard Richard knew about a secret Hagan was keeping. I wondered if you knew what it was.”

“I have no idea.” She turned and walked away.

I chased after her. I had more questions, and I wasn’t sure when I’d have another opportunity to ask. “Did you know Gia was feeding Zippy energy drinks?”

She froze, then whipped around.

I skidded to a stop.

“I told Richard she was up to no good.” She shook her poster in front of my face. “It’s because of irresponsible people like her that Doxie Lovers exists. She selfishly risked the life of her dog to win a race. Completely reckless. Zippy isn’t safe with her.”

I backed up. No surprise here, I agreed with her about Gia needlessly risking her dog’s life, but that didn’t mean I wanted Fallon to knock me out with her sign. “Is it possible Richard knew what his wife was doing?”

“No,” she stated adamantly.

“Think about it for a second. Could that be why he intended to retire Zippy after this race?”

“If he’d known, he would have left sooner. Zippy meant everything to him. Richard talked about retiring while they were on top. Yesterday he had decided it was time.”

“Why yesterday?” I asked.

Fallon looked at me confused. “I don’t understand.”

“What had changed? What made him decide yesterday was Zippy’s last race?”

She blinked rapidly. “I—I—I don’t know. I was so relived he was leaving that banshee and the racing circuit, I didn’t question why.” She blushed. “I guess I wanted him to leave for me.”

Hey, we’ve all been there at some point. Although most of us got over it in high school.

Her statement about Gia risking Zippy’s life brought to mind a new question. “Do the Eriksens have some type of insurance policy on the dog?”

She shrugged. “Sure. Most of the owners do. That’s not uncommon.”

“Do you know if Richard had a personal life insurance policy?” Money was a great motivator. Especially if you have an expensive shopping habit.

Her lips puckered like she’d sucked on a rancid lemon. “We didn’t talk about his finances.”

She didn’t have a problem having sex with a married man, but she drew the line at money discussions. Some people had an interesting moral compass.

Tired of waiting for me, Betty sailed across the field and anchored herself next to me. “You’re taking too long. What are you talking about?”

I suspected my lovely assistant was not only bored, but snoopy. “I was asking Fallon a couple of questions.”

Betty planted her hands on her hips. “I got a question. If Gia killed Richard, are you going to take Zippy?”

I lobbed a meaningful glare at Betty. “I didn’t mention any of that.”

My looked went heeded. “Well, why not? She’ll find out eventually,” Betty said.

“What is she talking about?” Fallon asked.