The Girl With The Dachshund Tattoo Part 27

Insomnia also afforded an opportunity to mull over The Doxie Dash Murders. Lame, but that's what the media called them now.

With nothing but time on my hands in the wee hours of the morning, here's the suspect list I'd formed for Richard Eriksen's murder: Gia Eriksen. Betrayed spouse. Key question: when did she know about her husband's infidelity? A cheating husband was a great motive for murder. Shopaholic and h.o.a.rder. If her husband was leaving her and retiring Zippy, Gia had just lost her income to buy, buy, buy. Financial problems. A life insurance policy ensured a renewed cash flow and a second motive for murder.

There was proof she'd doped her dog at least once. According to Fallon, Richard didn't have a clue about his wife's scandalous activities. Gia knew Hagan Stone's secret. Darby and I caught her red-handed with a gun that may or may not be the murder weapon. As for an alibi, she didn't have one. She claimed to be looking for her husband. Easy enough to discredit.

Fallon Keller. Richard's mistress. She said Richard was leaving his wife. Per Fallon, she and Richard had argued about Juicy Fruit gum. If he was really leaving his wife, why would Fallon refuse to buy the man of her dreams a measly pack a gum? She had a partial alibi, taking cash from the ATM, which is smart if you're planning to kill someone and you don't want to be fingered as the murderer.

Hagan Stone. The Chairman of the Board for the Laguna Beach Dachshund Dash. Where do I start? Illegal gambling ring. Supposedly, Richard was blackmailing him. Did that have anything to do with betting? Grey had been a.s.signed to watch him. If the FBI was monitoring Hagan, he had to be into something deeper than small-time wiener race gambling. My best guess: money laundering. Grey offered himself as Hagan's alibi. Fact? Only Grey and Hagan know for sure. If Hagan did kill anyone, Grey knew all about it.

Lenny Santucci. Rabid compet.i.tor. Lives in his car with his dog. Hates the Eriksens. Tried to pa.s.s off Pickles as a descendant of Chip Ahoy. Richard threatened to expose him. For the past year, Lenny had been trying to prove they were cheaters. Probably an alcoholic. Lenny knew about the gambling. He loved his depressed dog. Did he love him enough to kill his compet.i.tion's owner? What was Lenny's alibi?

As for Olivia, the filmmaker, all I had was a guess as to why she'd been killed. Her film had been uncovering everyone's closely guarded secrets.

Like I said, I'd had a lot of time to think. Unfortunately, even with all that time, I still didn't have a clue as to who killed either of the victims.

With a determined sigh, I rolled out of bed. Today, I'd concentrate on retrieving my brooch.

MISSY AND I STARTED the day as we did most days-a quick breakfast after a short run on the beach, a shower for me, and a thorough wrinkle-cleaning for Missy. As I moved about the bedroom, my trusted sidekick jumped on the bed. She watched as I pulled on my jeans and a T-shirt that read, "Sit Happens." What can I say? It seemed like an appropriate shirt for the mood I was in. My comfy motorcycle boots were the perfect finishing touch for the day's outfit.

Missy settled in with a sigh. I rubbed her back and planted a quick kiss on her head. She licked my cheek.

"I love you too, girlfriend."

I'm sure you're wondering about my emotional status. Honestly, I felt like a contestant on "Wheel of Emotion." I wanted optimism, yet landed on anything but that. Heaven help us all if I ever landed on "bankrupt."

For now, I decided to concentrate on the day's tasks, putting one foot in front of the other, and running on Texas grit.

I headed to the bathroom to brush my hair. Missy jumped off the bed and dutifully followed. She stretched out, blocking the doorway; her soulful eyes surveyed my every move. I firmly believed animals felt their humans' emotions.

I sighed. "I'm not foolin' ya, am I?"

I pulled my hair into a ponytail and swiped on some mascara. "Alrighty then. I guess you and I are hanging out today. Let's go for a ride."

Missy stood and shook, slapping ropes of drool against the bathroom door. I quickly wiped her mess with a washcloth.

"Are you always going to do that?" I laughed lightly. She snorted and wagged her stubby tail.

Ready to hit the road, I collected my purse and Missy's leash, and we headed for the Jeep. As we backed out of the driveway, I rolled down the windows so we could enjoy the fresh air. Blue sky, bright sun, and a soft ocean breeze. A direct contrast to my mood.

First errand of the morning was to drive by Grey's gallery on the off-chance his vehicle was out front. No, I wasn't stalking him. I was eager to take back what was mine.

It was only ten, and, like most of the art galleries downtown, Grey didn't open until eleven. Some days he didn't open at all. But I wasn't leaving anything to chance. Unfortunately, my reconnaissance proved what I'd already known-the gallery was closed. Couldn't blame a girl for trying.

I hung a U-turn and headed toward the boutique. Time to unload the merchandise from the doxie race for the last time. Thank goodness.

My eyes were dry from the lack of sleep the night before so I decided on a quick detour to the drugstore. I was also out of hand sanitizer at the boutique. Not planning to be long, I found a spot along the street. I shoved a couple of quarters in the meter, then grabbed Missy's leash, and we headed inside.

We ambled toward the back of the store. I'd snagged a box of eye drops when I spotted Lenny and Pickles in the oral hygiene aisle. Odd, I would have thought after Pickles's loss yesterday they would have left town with their tails tucked between their legs.

Lenny looked like he was on the back end of a weekend bender with a bad case of bed-head, wrinkled clothes, and a puffy, red face. He was so busy filling his handheld shopping basket with mouthwash, he didn't notice our approach.

"Hey there, Lenny."

He jumped at the sound of my voice like a package of pop rocks dropped into a gla.s.s of soda.

"Are you following me?" he groused.

I held up the eye drops. "Nope." I wanted to ask him why he was so paranoid. "What's with all the mouthwash?" I asked instead.

He pulled the basket to his side, out of my direct line of vision. "It's on sale. I like to stock up."

Wow. Six containers' worth? Who did he think he was kidding?

I'd read an article once about a recovering alcoholic who drank mouthwash to get smashed. I had a strong suspicion Lenny might fall into that category. That sure would explain his behavior, the minty fresh breath, and lack of alcohol bottles in his car.

Missy stretched her thick neck sniffing the air toward Pickles who sat next to Lenny's feet. Pickles tilted his head and returned her greeting.

"Sit, girl." Missy looked up at me as if I was punishing her. She just wanted to sniff her friend close up. I pointed to the floor. She obeyed, but I could tell she was miffed.

"How's he doing?" I asked.

Lenny frowned at his pooch. "He's depressed."

I hated to break it to him, but he didn't appear any better. "I'm sorry to hear that. Look, I hope you don't mind but I talked to Dr. Darling about Pickles's possible condition."

"What condition?" He asked with all the warmth of a junkyard dog.

"His depression. It's the real deal. The doctor gave me a pamphlet explaining treatment options. I have the brochure at the boutique if you're interested. I thought you might find it helpful."

"I don't need your help," he barked.

I held up my hand. "I'll let you get back to your . . . shopping."

If he wasn't drunk yet, he was about to be.

Missy and I skedaddled to the next aisle. As I reached for a container of hand sanitizer, the hair on the back of my neck bristled. I felt someone behind me. I turned around to find Lenny sneering at me.

A little unnerved to find him following me, I said the first thing that came to mind. "I'm surprised you're still in town. I thought everyone left yesterday." Antagonizing him wasn't the smartest plan.

"The police arrested Gia. I thought I'd stop by the station and tell them what I know."

He didn't fool me for a minute with that phony, helpful smile plastered to his broad face. He was truly giddy about Gia's plight.

"I thought she'd been taken in for questioning. That's not the same as being arrested."

He shrugged. "It's only a matter of time."

"Didn't you already give a statement at the dog park?"

"Sure. But they didn't ask what I knew about Gia and Richard." He brushed past me harder than he needed to as he moved down the aisle toward the cold remedies.

"So, where were you when Richard was shot?" I know, I know. The smart move was to walk away. But today I was living on the edge. He was the only suspect I didn't have an alibi for.

He stopped and slowly faced me. He glowered with squinty eyes. "You know, you keep asking me questions like you're investigating. You sure you're not with the cops?"

I forced a laugh. "Nope. Just curious. I found him, you know."

"I heard."

"One more thing. I don't remember seeing you after the argument between you and Gia."

"Unless you were standing in the line for the men's john, you wouldn't have." His offhanded tone didn't ring true.

I whistled. "That must have been some line." There were two areas with portable bathrooms-by the spectator section, and the other in the food area adjacent to the parking lot. I wondered which line he'd been in.

"You know, I pa.s.sed the bathrooms by the racetrack a number of times. I don't remember seeing you."

He dropped a bottle of cold medicine into his basket. "I was in the line by the food."

Which was closer to where Richard was shot. Another flimsy alibi that was all too easy to shoot down.

Suddenly, Lenny's bloodshot eyes lit up. "I'm not the only one still in town," he chirped, pointing over my shoulder. "There's Richard's girlfriend."

Not surprisingly, Fallon Keller made a beeline to the first aid section. Her face was still rockin' a number of cuts and bruises. She looked in our direction and froze. A weak smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

I smiled back and waved. She lowered her head and then ducked behind an endcap of sunscreen.

"What do you think she's still doing here?" Lenny asked.

Other than buying bandages? "I think she's worried about Zippy."

"Why would she care?"

"She doesn't believe he's safe with Gia."

Speaking of safe. It dawned on me as Lenny and I watched Fallon sneak around the drugstore that it was possible they were both still in town for reasons altogether different.

The filmmaker's camera.

I PAID FOR MY items and left Lenny and Fallon in the store. After my sparring match with Lenny, I felt positively energetic. I parked in front of the boutique and unloaded Missy. Since it was Monday, Betty wasn't scheduled to come in until one.

I unlocked the shop then propped open the front door. Missy waddled inside. She turned, double-checking I was right behind her.

"I'm coming. Go lay down."

She headed to her bed behind the counter.

I moved as quickly as possible. In a matter of minutes, I tugged the last tote out of the Jeep. That's when I saw Fallon a block away, heading in my direction. I tried to get her attention, but she slipped inside the bank without noticing me.

I stood smack-dab in the middle of the sidewalk and weighed my options. As much as I wanted to pepper her with questions, it was time to get my behind in gear and restock the merchandise. I trudged inside the store and kicked the door shut behind me.

I lined up the totes against the wall across from the register. I removed the lids and tossed them in a pile.

I grabbed an armful of dog sweaters to hang on the sale rack in the back. I was absorbed in the task when the door opened. Mr. TV strolled inside. He wore perfectly pressed chinos and a green b.u.t.ton-up shirt. No blazer. No cameraman. Interesting.

I stepped out from behind the rack. "h.e.l.lo."

He removed his aviator sungla.s.ses. "Good morning." His cheerful tone caught me off guard. He examined a couture dog dress prominently displayed toward the front window. "Are all of the clothes made by local designers?"

"Some of them. If you're looking for something specific, I'd be happy to help you find it." It dawned on me that I didn't know if he had a pet.

A half smile tugged at his mouth. "Nice shirt."

"I like to make a statement."

"I noticed." He tucked his gla.s.ses in his shirt pocket. "I didn't realize until I'd arrived, Laguna Beach is very dog-friendly."

You'd think a guy like him wouldn't need small talk before getting to the point. "More registered dogs than kids. But as the king of research, I'm sure you already knew that."

I returned to unpacking and pulled out the last of the dog clothes from the storage container. One down, three more to go.

"How long have you been in town?" I asked.

"Not long. Have you heard from Detective Malone today?" he asked.

I guess small talk was over and we'd moved on to the main event.

"Nope. Contrary to what you may believe, we're not in each other's back pockets."

"That's good. Otherwise your fiance might find that objectionable."

I carried the tote full of chew toys, b.a.l.l.s, and other play items to the display baskets up front. "I guess he would."

I dropped to one knee and made quick work of unloading the storage container. He stood nearby, watching quietly. I tossed the last stuffed animal in its appropriate basket.

"Where's the rock you were wearing yesterday?"

My heart skipped a beat. He was observant; I'd give him that.

I looked up and lied through my teeth. "I dropped it off for its annual inspection and cleaning." I stood. "I'm sure you didn't stop by to talk about my engagement ring."

He nodded. "I wanted to give you a courtesy heads-up. I'm picking up the story where Olivia left off."

"Okey dokey." I picked up the tote and carried it back to where the other empty containers sat.

MacAvoy followed me. "You don't seem to understand what that means."

I sucked in a breath well aware of what it meant, but I knew there wasn't anything I could do about it. Most of all, there was no way in h.e.l.l I was about to confess to someone I hardly knew that Grey and I had broken up last night.