The Girl With The Dachshund Tattoo Part 23

Not really. I didn't like to be left out of the party. I wasn't exactly a wallflower type.

Malone unfolded from his car and made his way toward us. I liked to describe his walk as legal danger.

"Did you arrest her?" I asked as soon as he was close enough to hear me. I thought it was better to take control before the lecture started.

He stopped in front of us. His wide-legged stance kept us from escaping before he was finished with us. We were about to be royally scolded. "She's being taken in for questioning."

"What the heck was all that stuff?" Darby asked.

Malone shook his head. With his expertise at the neutral expression, I was hard pressed to guess if he was confused or appalled by Gia's hidden treasures. "Those are the items that won't fit in her house. She also rents two more units here."

"She's a shopaholic. That would explain the Eriksens' financial issues. You should have seen her at the boutique. She acted like a junkie getting her fix by binge-shopping."

He gave me a pointed look.

Yeah, yeah. I was theorizing. "What about the gun? Is it Richard's?"

He didn't answer right away. "She says it's not, but we'll run the serial number for verification."

"Of course she's lying," I said. Malone didn't respond. Not a blink of an eye, muscle twitch, or clenched jaw. A silent Malone meant a ticked-off detective.

"Is it the murder weapon?" Darby asked.

"We won't know that for a couple of days," he explained.

The midday sun peeked out from behind a gray cloud. Darby shielded her eyes from the sudden burst of bright light. "Can you at least tell if it's been fired?"

I shook my head. "You can't tell if a gun has been fired recently by looking at it," I explained.

Malone raised an eyebrow. "Care to enlighten me on how you know that?"

I shrugged. "I grew up in Texas. My daddy taught me how to shoot and care for my gun. I know you can tell if a gun is dirty, but you can't tell if it's been shot recently."

He studied me closely. I made myself hold steady under his scrutiny. Maybe he'd take me a little more seriously with his newfound knowledge.

I smoothed my hair back from my face. "Did she tell you what she was going to do with it? Was she going after Hagan?"

He shook his head. "She said she planned to sell it."

It was possible she was telling the truth. Depending on the type of gun, she could get a large chunk of money quickly. It was also possible she intended to shoot Hagan first. A girl has to have priorities.

Malone shifted his weight. "Since you're here, does that mean you didn't find Betty?"

Darby and I exchanged a look. Man, I hated that I felt like I was tattling on my grandmother. "She drove off the same time as Gia. We had to make a choice." I shrugged. "Is Zippy okay?" I inserted, to stave off the reprimand I felt coming, and to make sure an innocent dog hadn't been forgotten.

"He's fine. Don't do this again," Malone ordered.

I bit the inside of my check to keep from smiling. I wasn't sure which "this" he was talking about. There were a few choices. Although, I didn't think Malone was asking me a multiple choice question. "Do what?"

"Follow a murder suspect. You're not the police. You could have been hurt. Or could have gotten someone else hurt."

Darby nodded solemnly. Her blond hair caught the sunlight, casting a glow around her head. "We know. We're very sorry. I also have more photos from today's event if you'd like them."

I kept my trap shut and let Darby handle the apology. Her Midwestern sincerity was hard to resist. Plus, she had potential evidence. Evidence was a surefire way to get on Malone's good side.

He walked to Darby's side of the car and opened the door. "Get out of here and go home. Get me those photos first thing tomorrow."

Darby scrambled inside. Malone didn't bother opening my door. Instead he glowered at me, silently communicating to keep my nose clean, then strode back to his shiny Camaro.

Chapter Twenty-Six.

IT DIDN'T TAKE long for Darby and me to return to Laguna Beach. Funny story, Detective Malone followed us the majority of the way, much to Darby's chagrin. I was proud of her. Other than repeatedly checking her rearview mirror, and sitting perfectly erect in her seat, she didn't let the fact the Malone was tailing us freak her out. I had to wonder if that was his way of ensuring we followed orders.

While Darby concentrated on not committing a traffic violation, I worked at piecing together the day's events. I couldn't pinpoint what it was, but I felt like we were missing something.

"Mel, I need to stop by the studio really quick. I'll only be a couple of minutes. I want to download my photos for today. Once I do that, I can drop off the memory card to Detective Malone. Now that there are two murders, I'm sure he'd like them as soon as possible."

I smiled at her. "No problem."

Darby's photography studio was conveniently located right next door to Bow Wow Boutique. We pulled up to the shop, and, lo and behold, there was Betty's Mini Cooper-parked haphazardly in front of the boutique.

"I can't believe it." I yanked my bag from the backseat. Betty had some explaining to do.

"Be gentle with her." Softhearted Darby grabbed her messenger bag and got out of the car.

She walked to her studio. I, on the other hand, headed for the boutique with brisk steps. I opened the door and entered. Betty was preoccupied, digging through a stack of chew toys.

I carefully set my bag on the floor. "h.e.l.lo."

Startled, Betty jumped a mile high, dropping a handful of toys. "Don't sneak up on an old woman like that. You want to give me a heart attack?"

I waved away her dramatics. "If anyone around here has a heart attack, it'll be me. What are you up to?"

She jutted out her chin. "I had an errand to run." She sounded like a petulant child.

"I noticed that when you hot-rodded away from the dog park. Had you stuck around, you would have learned Malone found your gun."

A triumphant smile danced along her mouth. "I told you that filmmaker had it. I guess that wraps up that." She resumed her search, dumping the toys onto the floor.

"Not by a long shot. Malone wants to talk to you. You left without a word to anyone. Don't you realize that makes you look guilty?"

Betty scooped up the toys and dropped them back into the bin. Apparently, she hadn't found what she was looking for.

"Look, Cookie. No offense, but I got stuff to do. You head back to the park without me. I'll meet you there."

I sighed. "Not happening. There's no way I'm letting you out of my sight. Besides, my Jeep won't start. You'll have to take me back.

"Then how'd you get here?" Skepticism dripped from her question.

"I hitched a ride. Why won't you tell me what you're up to?"

Betty remained stubbornly silent.

I tugged my hair frustrated. "Of all people, you should know that I won't judge you. Trust me enough to tell me what's going on. Where have you been running off to? Are you in some type of trouble?"

She brushed past me, heading for the counter. "It's not what you think."

I grabbed my backpack and followed her. "That's the point. I don't know what to think. Is it money problems? Do you need some cash? Besides the wad of dollar bills you have stashed inside your purse? You should put your money in the safe until you can make a bank deposit on Monday."

"You keep your money, Cookie. Stop worrying about my cash and start worrying about yourself." She pulled her purse off the shelf from under the counter.

I sighed. The time had come to fill Betty in on my financial stability. I leaned against the counter blocking her only escape route. "I need to make a confession."

"What are you gonna tell me? That you're hiding a kid?" She cackled at her lame joke.

I grabbed her delicate hands and held them firmly in mine. "Look, there's no need for you to worry about money. I have enough for both of us. If you're in some type of dire financial situation, I'd be happy to help. Consider it a loan if it makes you feel better."

"I don't know what you're babbling about, but I have plenty of money."

"So do I," I rea.s.sured her.

"Sure thing, Cookie. Whatever you say."

She tried to pull her hands away, but I held tightly, careful not to apply pressure to her bruise. "I'm part of the Texas Montgomerys."

She narrowed her eyes and thought about what I was saying. "You mean oil?"

I shrugged, unwilling to go into details. "Among other things."

She whistled. "You're loaded."

I released her hands and straightened. "My family is wealthy. I'm blessed to be a Montgomery. The point is, I care a lot about you. If you need anything, please know you can count on me to help you out."

"Really? Anything?" She peered into my face.

"Absolutely." I nodded.

"Okay. Come to my place." She whizzed past me.

I blinked. "Right now?" I should be happy she was taking me up on my offer. I hadn't expected her to bite so quickly. I thought I would have had to work a little harder to convince her.

"You got something better to do?"

"I still need to pick up the Jeep. We left all the merchandise at the park. Malone wants to talk to you, and Grey and I have a date tonight."

"Then we better get crackin'."

I texted Darby informing her she was free of me. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and followed Betty to the door wondering where we were going and if we were about to do something illegal. We locked up the shop and headed toward her car.

"What were you rummaging around for in there?" I motioned to the boutique.

"You'll find out," she a.s.sured me. I wasn't rea.s.sured by the secretive look she wore.

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 pa.s.senger 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 s.p.a.ce at record speed. She slammed the car into drive and stepped on the gas. I grabbed the Oh-c.r.a.p 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 pa.s.senger 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 b.u.mps 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.