The Girl With The Dachshund Tattoo Part 10

"Thanks for stopping by, Valerie." I opened the door, letting in the fresh air. "I'll let you know when your order comes in."

"I look forward to hearing from you . . . soon." She breezed through the doorway and outside.

I may have let go of the door just a tad too quickly, tapping Valerie's backside as she walked out. My bad.

I joined Gia and Zippy next to a display of dog breed charms. "Is this what you're looking for?" I handed her the ball.

She squeezed it a couple of times, then bent down and let Zippy sniff it. He s.n.a.t.c.hed the toy from her hand and ran. She had him on a short leash-he didn't get past the rack of flying discs. Undaunted, he collapsed to his belly and gnawed on the ball. His soft floppy ears got in the way of his ability to grip the toy with his paws.

"Looks like he likes it. Is there anything else you need?" I asked.

She pointed toward the register. "I love those red sneakers you have in the showcase."

"Would you like to see them?"

She chewed her perfectly polished nail. "I really don't have a lot of time," she hesitated. "I guess if we're quick."

Not one to pa.s.s up a sale, I motioned for her to follow me. "Zippy's fine. Leave him there."

I pulled out the sneakers from behind the locked case. "Aren't they adorable? The canvas body is very soft, and the soles are nonslip."

"I love them." She didn't bat an eye at the fifty-dollar price tag. She placed them on the counter. "What about those?" She pointed to a pair of black boots with a zippered front.

I smiled, sensing a large sale within the next couple of minutes. "These are my favorite. Although confession time, I am partial to motorcycle boots." I hiked up my jeans and kicked my leg, showing off my own black boots.

Suddenly, Gia had plenty of time to waste. She weaved from one side of the store to the other, her face flush from stacking item after item on the counter for me to ring up. When she wasn't looking I tossed Zippy a couple of treats. He was a very well-behaved pooch.

While Gia shopped I asked, "You mentioned Zippy has a schedule. I'm curious what type of schedule a dog like him would have? Practice runs? Push-ups?"

"It's important that he practice the fifty-yard dash, keep hydrated, and stick to his feeding schedule, which is twice a day during the off season and three times a day during racing season." She fingered a sunflower-yellow bathrobe. Meeting her requirements, the robe was tossed on top of the growing pile of merchandise. "He has a very strict diet. Racing on a full stomach slows him down."

Oops. I glanced down at Zippy. He hadn't left a crumb of evidence. Good dog. I lifted my finger to my lips, swearing him to secrecy. He shook his head, his ears slapping the sides of his long nose. I guess I was on my own.

Gia's dilated eyes widened as she looked at the stack on the counter. "I think I got a little carried away." Her normally commanding voice sounded small and a little unsure.

"Everything is returnable. If you get home and decide you don't like an item or you've changed your mind for any reason, bring it back for a full refund."

She bit her bottom lip. "Do you have a shop in Laguna Hills?"

"No."

She slowly handed me a credit card. I caught a quick look inside her bag. She carried a purple water bottle that looked like the same one I'd seen Richard carrying yesterday. "Does Zippy only drink bottled water?"

She followed my gaze. Realizing I could see inside her purse, she closed it with a loud snap. "No, he does not only drink bottled water. It's my vitamin water."

Yeah, I didn't believe her for a second. She didn't have bloodshot eyes, and she wasn't slurring her words, but there was something about her body language that suggested she was lying. That and the fact that she had completely overreacted to my question.

"Why does Lenny Santucci hate you? You said that at one time he was your number-one fan? What really changed that?"

She stiffened. "I told you. He's a jealous loser."

I tapped her credit card on the Formica counter. "Nope. He hates you and he hated Richard. That's more than jealousy."

She eyed the card, biting her bottom lip. "Lenny tried to pa.s.s Pickles off as an offspring of Chip."

"Chip?"

Her eye-roll was so dramatic her lashes actually stuck together momentarily. For a second, I thought I might have to peel them apart for her. "Chip Ahoy. He's the ultimate champion. He retired from racing five years ago. Lenny claimed Pickle carried Chip's bloodline. Richard knew he was lying and threatened to discredit him."

Now that was a motive to hate someone. "Is Lenny from around here?"

"Up north. Redding or someplace boring like that."

"Did you see him around the time Richard was shot?"

She sighed. I was clearly wasting her time with all my questions. "I had more important things on my mind when I was looking for Richard than noticing if Lenny was following me around like a sick puppy. Are you going to ring me up?"

"Sure thing." I slid her credit card through the reader, expecting an approval.

Denied.

Holy moly. I looked up and plastered a fake smile on my face. "The machine's been acting funny lately. Let me try this again."

"Wait. Try this one." Gia handed me a different piece of plastic. She looked as uncomfortable as I felt.

I rubbed the magnetic strip on my jeans before sliding the card through the machine.

Not only was it denied, but I was also instructed to call the bank.

h.e.l.ls bells.

Chapter Twelve.

GIA AND I STARED at the silver plastic card in my hand. This could play out one of two ways. I call the bank and receive a verbal approval after Gia answers a couple of simple questions. Or I call the bank and the charge is denied. And possibly be asked to confiscate the card. Judging by the way Gia worriedly nibbled on her bottom lip, verbal approval was the unlikely outcome.

She caught my eyes dead-on. Her fake lashes were as thick as Grandma Tillie's fur coat and looked equally as heavy. I knew what she wanted me to do. The tension was broken by a ringing cell phone.

"That's me." I grabbed the phone and answered without looking to see who was calling.

"h.e.l.lo." I didn't exactly turn my back on Gia, but I tried to give her some privacy. If she decided to put some, or all, of the merchandise back, I wasn't going to draw attention to it.

"Hi," Grey's deep voice filled my ear.

My pulse quickened. "Hi. I, um, didn't realize it was you." I tucked my hair behind my ear.

He chuckled. "Removed me from your contact list already?"

An easy smile spread across my mouth. He was back. "I thought about it. Are you at the gallery?"

"For a while. I thought you might want to grab lunch. Unless you're at the race."

I stole a glance at Gia. She was digging through her purse, apparently not ready to walk away from her mountain of dog paraphernalia.

"Not yet. I'm finishing up at the shop. Then I'd planned on heading over. Hagan asked me to come back and set up the boutique booth again. Are you coming to the dog park?"

Silence on the other end. Had he hung up? Or was he trying to come up with a decent excuse as to why he didn't want to come to the race? Most importantly, when had I started to sound so pathetic?

"Hagan asked you personally?" he finally asked.

"Yes, he was very sweet."

"What time does the race start?"

I could hear faint voices in the background. "Two. Is there someone there you need to take care of?"

"No. He's just looking. Did you find Betty's gun?"

I turned my back on Gia, fingers crossed she didn't grab her stash and run, but I didn't want her to overhear my conversation. "Not yet. I thought if I got there early, I could look for the filmmaker."

"How about dinner in Newport tonight?"

I nodded, eager to spend some time with Grey. "That sounds great." I studied my engagement ring. "And then we can talk. Right? That's what this is all leading up to?"

"Yes. We'll talk," he promised.

I closed my eyes and released a long pent-up breath. "Okay. I'll see you tonight. 401 Chop Oceanside?"

"That's where I proposed. The second time." I felt his smile as strongly as if he stood across from me. "Plus they have the best lamb chops."

We ended the call, agreeing he'd pick me up at eight. I shoved my cell inside my back pocket feeling very generous. Grey was ready to forgive and move on, and so was I.

"Gia. Here." I held out her credit card.

It took her a second to accept it, but when she did her claw-like fingers wrapped around the plastic card like a lifeline. She stuffed it in her purse before I could change my mind.

"Why?" she asked.

"Weird stuff happens all the time. Technology can be finicky. What works today may not work tomorrow." I pulled the toy she'd originally come to the store to find from the bottom of the pile. "This is a good-luck gift from me and my bulldog, Missy, to you and Zippy. It's been a rough twenty-four hours. We all want a fair race, right?"

She looked pained. I immediately felt bad that she'd taken my comment as a dig about the doping rumors. I dropped the ball on the counter.

She bent down, picked up Zippy's leash off the carpet, and snapped it back on his collar. "I heard you say you were looking for the filmmaker."

I nodded slowly, steeling myself for a possible tirade. "Have you seen her?"

"We were at the dog park earlier this morning, me and Zippy, working out. She was talking to that veterinarian."

"What did you think of Dr. Darling?"

"He was exactly as you described."

I'd accept that as an admission that I was right. "Did you talk to her? The gir-the filmmaker?"

Gia frowned, channeling her inner desperate housewife. "You could say that. She has a lot of nerve. She begged for an interview with Zippy and me, since he was the favorite. Of course, everyone knows he's the obvious winner. So, I agreed to meet. You know, doing my part to advertise the event. But that wasn't what she wanted to talk about."

I cringed, pretty sure where this was headed. To be honest, it would be difficult to brush over Richard's death. Talk about real-life drama.

"I'm sure if you explained-"

Gia's eyes sharpened under her tarantula lashes. "She accused me and Richard of doping Zippy. Can you believe it? My husband was just murdered and she wants to talk about why I won't willingly submit Zippy to a urine test. She shoved her camera right in my face and kept asking me over and over why it was so important to harm my dog in order to win a race. The nerve. I shoved her back and told her what she could do with her camera. I really hate that woman."

I cleared my throat. I was pretty darn certain Gia was about to regret her actions. "Was she recording when you attacked her?"

She stilled. "Oh, h.e.l.l. I have to get that tape."

Gia frantically scooped up Zippy and cradled him in her arms. At the last minute, she grabbed the treat ball. Without a word, she scurried out the door and disappeared down the street.

It looked like the girl with the dachshund tattoo, aka Stephanie, had some things a couple of us wanted back. I wondered which of us would find her first.

Chapter Thirteen.

BETTY NEVER SHOWED.

My calls continued to go directly to voicemail, while I continued to be concerned. Valerie's unexpected visit confirmed Betty had at least checked in with her daughter. I'd waited for as long as possible for my flighty a.s.sistant. I hung a sign on the front door informing customers they could find us at the Dachshund Dash, then closed up the boutique for the rest of the day.

Although the sun had burned off some of the morning fog, it remained slightly overcast with a chill gripping the air. I quickly swung by my place to let Missy out. She sniffed a few trees and a handful of bushes before she finally relieved herself.

"Do you want to go for a ride, girl?"

She peered up at me with squinty eyes, then trotted back toward the house, leaving me standing by the Jeep in the driveway. Apparently, she was pa.s.sing. I couldn't blame her. Her stubby legs had carried her stocky body a long way yesterday.

We walked back inside the house, Missy headed to the kitchen. She sniffed her food dish; finding it rather lackl.u.s.ter, she lapped up some water instead.

"Alrighty, girlfriend. I'll be back later." I grabbed my Gap hoodie and black Moschino backpack from the couch.

At the last minute, I decided to print the photo of Fallon Keller that Darby had emailed me last night. I planted a quick kiss on Missy's head and reminded her to guard Grandma Tillie's brooch while I was out. Caro had to be aware by now that the heirloom was in my possession. She wanted the brooch as much as I did. In the past, we'd proven neither of us was above a little breaking-and-entering to get what we wanted.