Paws For Death Read online

  “Great. I’ve got to go. Don’t want to keep the Geysers waiting.”

  Randi started to follow him then stopped short. On the back of his baseball cap, in embroidered curved letters, was Ridgemark Saddlebreds, the name of Barbra’s ranch.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Jojo lay curled at the foot of the bottom bunk, front paws tucked like a cat’s beneath her body, radar-like ears at full attention. Her bright eyes followed Randi as she went about making her morning coffee. Jojo seemed to be an extension of her mother, ready to judge and correct since her mother was snoring and had a pillow over her head. Randi stirred milk into her mug, taking care not to clang the spoon against the sides.

  Small dogs seemed to have different agendas than big ones. Perhaps being toted around in oversized purses, and having access to places typically off limits to most canines, gave them a sense of entitlement.

  Gina’s death weighed heavy on Randi’s mind as she dressed and brushed her teeth, all under Jojo’s watchful gaze. She grabbed a sticky-note from the drawer to let her mother know she was heading to Kira’s to ask about the waitress named Mel, attaching the message to the cabinet that held Jojo’s special mail order mix of doggy ingredients.

  At the beach, cloud cover was high and the ocean roiled a foamy blue. Seagulls wheeled and dove, while sandpipers raced the tide on stilt-like legs. On a typical morning Randi would have paused for a moment to watch and let the beauty of the day wash over her, but since yesterday and the tragedy surrounding Gina, the glory of nature didn’t seem as important.

  She stepped through the door to Kira’s restaurant, the incoming breeze ruffling the sunflowers set in glass vases on each table. Kira waved from her usual spot behind the bar, striding the length of the spongy floor pad, white-blonde ponytail swinging back and forth.

  Randi made her way over and climbed onto a stool.

  Kira flung a bar towel over her shoulder and held up a knife. “My sous-chef called in sick, so guess who’s chopping veggies? Terrible news about your mother’s friend, by the way. How’s your mom holding up?”

  “She’s asleep. Usually chattering away at the crack of dawn. It all happened so fast. I think she’s in shock. How’d you find out?”

  “Are you kidding? This place is gossip central.” Kira put down the knife, wiped her hands on the towel and leaned up against her back bar. The massive ornamental piece of cabinetry was Kira’s pride and joy. It spent Prohibition hiding in Mexico from the Temperance people who wanted to sacrifice it for firewood—or so the story went. When the war on booze was over, it made its way back home and eventually into Kira’s grateful arms. “Some of those dog people were in here last night.”

  “The agility folks?”

  Kira pushed herself away from the bar. “Yep, drinking like fishies. Tongues got loose. Rumors flew: Heart attack or something more nefarious? Lot of talk about de-throning the queen. One of them mentioned a guy named Scott and said they wouldn’t be surprised if he was behind it.”

  Randi’s ears perked. “Scott? Are you sure it wasn’t Steve?”

  “Could have been. You know how you Americans tend to mumble. Why?”

  “There’s a guy. Name’s Steve Copeland. He took Zoom, Gina’s Border collie, and refuses to give him back. He and Gina were cutthroat rivals, both gunning for the same spot on the U.S. dog agility team.”

  “Interesting. You meet him?”

  Randi nodded. “The man is textbook smarmy, and my mother acts totally weird around him.”

  “Hmm. Why would she act weird? Is he hot?”

  “If you like ripped forty-something Jamaican guys with dreads then, yeah, he’s hot.”

  “Sounds like it needs further investigation.” Kira wiped the knife blade on the towel. “Speaking of attractive,” she grinned, “what happened last night between you and Luke?”

  Always working the relationship angle. “Nothing. We talked business for a while then Luke invited my mother and me over for dinner tonight.”

  “You make it sound like a visit to the dentist.”

  “Do not.”

  “Do too.” Kira bent down to pick up a carrot off the floor, exposing a tramp stamp of Freya, the Norse goddess of love and magic. “I don’t get you, Ran. If Luke showed the slightest bit of interest in me, I’d be all over him like a cheap suit.”

  Kira believed having Freya permanently attached to her backside gave her carte blanche to dole out relationship advice, which she did often and unsolicited.

  “He’s my boss.”

  “So?”

  Randi knew from experience Kira wouldn’t give up. She had stubborn Austrian blood. “It’s not a date. He invited my mother.”

  “Luke is a gentleman. He would never leave your mother to sit home alone after the death of her best friend, so, of course, he invited her. I didn’t have a chance to meet her last night, just so you know.”

  “She ran off to my truck to leave Luke and me alone.”

  “I like her already.”

  “Did you happen to notice the baseball cap Luke had on?”

  Kira put her hands on her hips. “No. Why?”

  “It was Barbra’s hat, with her Ridgemark logo.”

  “I wear lots of people’s hats, Ran. The Stone Brewing Company guy was in here last week. Left me half a dozen of them.” She reached beneath the bar and pushed a black cap embroidered with Stone’s gargoyle logo across the bar. “Want one?”

  “You bet your boots I do. Thanks.” She slapped the hat onto her head. Good timing. Bad hair day.

  “You’re welcome,” Kira said. “My point is, wearing the hat does not obligate one to sleep with the giver. Anyway, Barbra’s all T and A. Not Luke’s type.”

  “That’s any man’s type, Kira. You, of all people, should know that.”

  “Whatever.” Kira flipped her ponytail to the opposite shoulder. “Hey, I made up a new drink, want to try it?”

  “Nice change of subject.” She adjusted the brim of the cap, tugging it lower on her head. “What’s it called?”

  “Dog in Heat.”

  “How appetizing. What’s in it?”

  “Champagne, lemon vodka, cranberry and fresh mint.”

  She checked the time. “Too early for me.”

  “Oh come on. Just a little. On the house.”

  “For someone who doesn’t touch the stuff, you’re awfully pushy. Rain check.”

  “Coffee then?” Kira motioned toward the industrial coffeemaker. “Got a fresh pot of Hawaiian hazelnut brewing.”

  “Yes, please.” Randi stabbed a cocktail olive from a nearby bin and popped it in her mouth. “My mom and I met your new waitress last night.”

  “Yeah? She do okay?”

  “She was fine. It was interesting, though. Yesterday we found out Mom’s friend Gina had recently ended a relationship with a younger woman named Mel.”

  Kira looked surprised. “Really?”

  “How long has your Mel been working here?”

  “About ten days. Why?”

  “Where’d she come from?”

  “Her sister, Sandy, is one of my regulars. She told me Mel needed a job and said she had experience waiting tables, so I hired her. Why all the questions?”

  “Do you know where she’s staying?”

  “At her sister’s. Sandy’s traveling, and apparently Mel has a whole pack of dogs. Hard for her to find a rental, but according to Sandy, the place is tiny. Can you imagine?”

  Andrew had said Mel was house-sitting while her sister was in Europe. “How many dogs?”

  “Seven.”

  “Seven?

  “Yes.”

  “Can you give me her number?”

  “What for?”

  “I just want to talk to her.”

  “She’s as sweet as honey. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. I’m sure she doesn’t want you barging in asking all sorts of questions.”

  “Come on, Kira. She’s gotta be the same person. I need to ask her about Gina.”

  Kira grabbed a
handful of green peppers, put them on the cutting board and wiped her forehead with her sleeve. “You know I love you, Ran, but I’m stressing. I’ve got a shitload of work to do.”

  “Give me the number and I’ll get out of your hair.”

  Kira sighed, put the knife down, poked at her phone and rattled off a number.

  Randi tried it. “Says the voice mailbox is full. How about an address?”

  “No way.”

  “Please?” She put on a smile. “I’ll be extra nice to Luke tonight at dinner.”

  Kira shot her a sideways look. “No fair. You know how badly I want my matchmaking to work. Gives me a weird sense of satisfaction since this place sucks so much of my time.” She rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand. “I’m lucky if I get a one-night stand.”

  “Give me Mel’s address and I’ll even wear makeup.”

  ****

  Randi’s mother plucked Kira’s note from the cupholder. “I’m not sure how I feel about barging in on this woman we don’t even know. I can’t imagine what Gina would think. What’re we going to say?”

  Randi slowed for the freeway off-ramp. “Gina’s own brother said she was in good health. If her death wasn’t an accident, you owe it to her to look into it. She’d do the same for you.”

  “That’s what the police are for.”

  “The trial is over on Sunday. That only gives us four days, counting today. The killer could be long gone before the cops even get a lead, but I think it would be wise to rule Mel out first. She’s a good suspect. Spurned lover furious over losing Zoom, the dog they shared like a child. Besides, I know a guy at the police department. If we find anything out, I promise to turn it over to him.”

  “Fine, but this note only says ‘Pleasant Gardens.’”

  “That’s a trailer park off the 101. Kira said Mel didn’t give her a space number or anything, so we’ll have to look around.”

  Five minutes later they pulled in front of a dilapidated iron gate. The Pleasant side was tilted off the hinge and held upright by a row of cinderblocks. Gardens made up the right, leaving barely enough room for Randi’s truck to squeeze past.

  The driveway sloped upward in a giant semicircle.

  Her mother leaned forward. “How’re we going to find her?”

  Randi lowered the windows. Someone was grilling hot dogs and the thump of nearby hip-hop music vibrated inside the cab. “I guess we’ll just listen for the sound of all those dogs.”

  “Lord have mercy, think of the poop.”

  An army-style Jeep and an El Camino with a shattered windshield looked like they’d been parked wherever they happened to last stall out. Trailers named Cougar and Fireball, with dented gas tanks strapped to their sides and colorful plastic butterflies affixed to security screen doors, sat behind the cars. Randi squinted. The trim along one of the trailers was done in lacy rust, and on the phony grass carpeting, chairs sported shredded strips of nylon dangling between the metal tubing. Two boys played Frisbee in the street, and sitting on the steps of one of the motorhomes a young girl dipped her fingers into a shallow can and fed the contents to a bony cat.

  “I don’t know, Mom. I’d say Pleasant Gardens is a misnomer.”

  “A gross misnomer. I don’t want to sound all high and mighty, but I don’t think Gina would have…well, you know. I say we talk to the manager. If it’s a man, I’ll get him to cough up which one belongs to Mel’s sister.” She pointed out the window. “There. Pull over.”

  Beside a late model Camaro, a guy bent over the engine block with a good three inches of crack on display. Randi pulled into the narrow space near a BB-pocked sign marked Manager.

  The tiny porch had a plastic laundry basket piled high with trash bags, a couple of jugs of anti-freeze and an empty case of Bud Light. Another man slid a rickety screen door wide and stepped out. Barbed wire tats ringed sizeable biceps and a black bandana cloaked his shiny head.

  Randi jumped out first. “I’ve got this.” Her mother might have experience with men, but this one looked like he’d eat her for lunch. He shifted a toothpick to the other side of his mouth and crossed his arms at her approach.

  “Hi there.” She stopped a good five feet away. “I was wondering if you could tell me about Mel Hunter? She’s staying at her sister’s place. Sandy, uh, Hunter, I’m assuming.”

  He bent down, reached into a cooler and pulled out a tallboy of Miller High Life. Popped the tab one-handed. “Beer?”

  “No. Thanks. She has a couple of dogs, if that helps.”

  Way things looked, rules and restrictions weren’t at the top of the list here at the how many Pleasant Gardens, but just in case, she didn’t want to get Mel in trouble by stating just she had.

  “You a cop?”

  “No.”

  He slurped some beer. “I can’t just go giving out information to nobody.”

  “Mel’s my old roommate from college.” The lie flowed effortlessly. “I’m in town for the day so I thought I’d drop in and surprise her, but for the life of me I can’t remember which trailer she’s staying in.” She let her arms flop to the side for dramatic emphasis.

  “No bells are ringing, but that don’t mean much.” The man thought about it for a second and almost smiled. “Come on in.”

  She couldn’t see through the screen door. A TV blared in the background. It looked like the kind of place once you passed through, you might never come out. On the other hand, what could he possibly do to her in broad daylight? She followed him inside. The interior reeked of smoke and it took a while for her eyes to adjust to the haze. Randi’s bungalow wasn’t the neatest place in the world, but at least she opened the blinds and let in daylight.

  The manager rummaged through some drawers and pulled out a tattered notebook. He took his time flipping through the yellowed pages, stopping every few seconds to leer at her, sip his beer, shake his head and mumble something about unwanted visitors.

  The skin on her arms prickled. If he pulls something, will Mom hear me scream? She gauged the distance to the door. Four giant steps. “Listen, it’s okay. Never—”

  “Sorry.” He slapped the book closed. “Nobody here by that name.”

  “Really? No Hunters?”

  “Nope.”

  “Maybe she has a different last name than her sister?”

  He snorted. “Can’t help ya without a last name, girlie.”

  She thanked him for his time and made a hasty exit. Behind the wheel again, she crosschecked the traffic on the 101 before easing into the flow. “There’s one more trailer park around here. If I remember right, it’s up just up the road.”

  Her mother twisted in her seat. “Why would Mel give the wrong address?”

  “Good point. Why would she?”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Where Pleasant Gardens was dry and decaying, everything about The Aloha Residence Park screamed sultry beauty. Not a rusty or discolored panel in sight. The Aloha dwellings were firmly planted with loving care, wrapped with thick, healthy vines and the narrow streets canopied with trees. Cute VW convertible Bugs and shiny Smart cars sat tucked under tiny trellis-covered carports. Porches overflowing with hanging plants and railings draped with boughs of jasmine and morning glory, with wind chimes and hummingbird feeders for added charm, gave the place the feel of a Hawaiian movie set.

  Her mother poked her head out the passenger window. “Permanent mobile homes. Defeats the whole purpose don’t you think? Nothing beats the freedom of the open road. That’s why I love touring the country so much. I never want to stay in one place too long—or in a stagnating relationship, either.”

  Randi cleared her throat. Including being married to my father. Nobody liked taking the blame for a failed relationship, but her mother was in a class by herself when it came to righteousness over her divorce.

  Randi eased up on the gas. The seal-sized speed bumps spaced across the winding lanes made for a crawling pace. Her mother read the porch signs as they rolled past: Stop and smell my roses. Li
ve with gratitude. May your time here be filled with relaxing sunsets, cool drinks, and—

  An elderly man stepped into the middle of the road and held up his hand. Randi hit the brakes. He came round to the drivers’ side and leaned in. “Can I help you with something?”

  “Uh…we’re looking for our friend, Mel Hunter.”

  The man tilted his head, peering inside the cab. “This a four-wheel drive?” Stepping back, he kicked the tires with his toes. “Nice rims.”

  Randi could talk truck all day long, but this wild goose chase was turning out to be a gigantic waste of time. “Do you know where she lives?”

  The man straightened. “You said you’re friends?”

  “Yep.”

  “Good friends?”

  “More like acquaintances, but it’s important we find her.”

  “She in some kind of trouble?”

  Lee Ann scooted closer. “She might be.”

  “Something the rest of us should know about? This is a quiet neighborhood. We don’t take kindly to trouble.”

  “We just need to talk to her. If you know who she is or where we can find her, it’d really help us out.”

  The old guy stared into space. Was something wrong with him?

  “I don’t know. She’s one of them witch people. If I tell you where she lives and she doesn’t want to talk to you, if she gets angry, she may come over and boil my pet rabbit.”

  That was a bizarre thing to say, and Randi would have liked to question him further, but before she could get any words out, her mother rummaged through her purse and thrust a crumpled twenty at the guy. “All we want is her address. She won’t know how we came by it.”

  The man smiled and shook his head at them like they were a couple of doofs. “Suit yourselves. Four spots down on the right.” He waved his hand. “Keep your money, and don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Mel’s sister’s trailer was wedding-cake-white, with a matching picket fence. Randi parked parallel to the gate.

  Lee Ann leaned against the door. “That’s two witch references so far; one from Andrew when we were in his motorhome yesterday and one from this guy. I halfway expected the place to be black, with cobwebs hanging from the eaves and a broom out front.”