Fifty Shades of Greyhound (The Pampered Pets Mystery Series) (11 page)

AS THE AFTERNOON went on, my confidence waned.

Should I have agreed to meet Blanche before talking to the FBI? By the time I finished my appointments, done my stint at the Laguna Beach Animal Rescue League, arrived home for the day, and Dogbert and I had circled the block, I’d had several internal conversations with myself about my plan to meet Blanche LeRue.

Blanche sure as heck wasn’t dangerous. But she had outright lied about knowing the dead guy. And we were meeting in a public place.

In the end, I convinced myself “better safe than sorry.” I know, y’all are surprised at that conclusion. But, fresh in my mind was my misjudgment of Eugene. I’d had him and then had just sent him off to change out of his droid jammies. I had no thought he’d escape. I try to do the right thing, I really do.

As soon as I had all the animals fed, I called the number Agent Milner had given me.

FBI Agent Milner called me back within fifteen minutes.

“You have some information?” Mr. No-Time-for-Pleasantries asked.

“Here’s the thing, hon.” I could picture his impatience, but I forged on. “I’m not sure if I do or if I don’t, so let me run this by you.”

“All right.”

“I talked to Blanche LeRue, the Greyhound rescue’s executive director, and I mentioned that one of the Greyhound owners had reported seeing Victor, the dead guy, at the rescue office.”

“Uh-huh.”

“When I mentioned it to Blanche, she denied having ever met the guy prior to the event where he was killed. But she acted kinda funny about it.”

“So you want me to talk to Ms. LeRue?”

“No. I, um, called her after you stopped by next door the other night, and I suggested she talk to you, but she wanted to meet with me first to explain. So we’re meeting tomorrow morning at a local coffee shop. I think it would be good if you’d join us.”

“I could do that.”

“Agent Milner?”

“Yes.”

“It would probably be best if you could look like a regular person tomorrow. You know, not look like you work for the FBI?” Looking like he usually did, it would be obvious to everyone in the vicinity that he was some sort of law enforcement.

“What kind of disguise would you like me to wear? My X-Men outfit?” There was a slight snicker from the other end.

“Very funny.” I kind of regretted my effort to be helpful at that point. “Perhaps a pair of shorts and a golf shirt, if you own any.”

“Believe me, Ms. Lamont, you don’t want to see these legs, but I’ll see what I can do to disguise myself as a native. Where is this coffee shop?”

“It’s the Koffee Klatch right on PCH.” I gave him the address. “We’re meeting at ten o’clock.”

“I’ll be there.” And with a click, he was gone.

THE NEXT MORNING, I arrived early at the Koffee Klatch, ready for my usual. Verdi was in place behind the counter and had my latte ordered before I had the words out of my mouth.

I picked up my drink and pastry at the counter and looked for a table. Outdoors would be best because Blanche could easily spot me, and also it was less likely we’d be overheard. I found an open table and set my cup and plate down.

Within minutes, Agent Milner arrived.

He’d done a good job. Navy chinos, a sky blue striped polo shirt, and a lightweight tan windbreaker to cover his sidearm. I’d learned from being around Detective Malone and his crew (don’t ask) that you hardly ever see plainclothes law-enforcement without a jacket or vest of some kind.

I didn’t really think Blanche was dangerous, but I was somehow comforted by the fact that Agent Milner was present.

“Ms. Lamont.” He tipped his ball cap and sat down at the table. “You look nice today.”

I was taken aback.

“Why, that’s sweet of you to say. I don’t have any pet appointments this morning, and I’m having lunch with my friend, Diana.” I glanced down at the turquoise-and-white Diane von Furstenberg sundress I’d pulled from my closet that morning. Unremarkable, but a whole lot different from how I’d been dressed each of the times he’d seen me before.

No wonder the man treated me like I was a couple of sandwiches shy of a picnic.

“By your friend, Diana, you mean Diana Knight?” Agent Milner took a sip of his coffee.

“Yes, we’ve been friends since I moved here.” Not much got a reaction from Agent Milner, but I could see from his face he was a little star-struck. Most people are by Diana, and then they’re equally shocked she is so down to earth.

“Diana’s an avid supporter of animal causes, so we’ve worked together on several events.” I explained.

“You’re not a native Californian?” I was impressed at Agent Milner’s effort at small talk.

“What gave me away?” I laughed. “You’re right. I’m from the great state of Texas.”

“You haven’t always worked with problem pets?” he continued.

“No, my education is in counseling psychology.” I turned the coffee cup on its saucer. “People counseling.” I added.

“And what brought you to California?”

“A new start. After—” I started to explain, but stopped myself. Something about the expression on Agent Milner’s face told me he already knew all the details of my background.

I’d almost forgotten who I was talking to. Of course, the FBI had run background checks on Verdi and on me after the incident at Kyle’s house. And all my Texas mess would’ve shown up. My ex-husband’s involvement with a patient, the loss of both of our licenses to practice, the lies, the divorce, the media frenzy.

“Go on.”

“I think you already know all about me and why I left Texas.”

“Perhaps,” he said, his eyes steady and his voice low, “but I’d rather hear your version.”

“Not important.” I set my cup down on the table. “Not why we’re here.”

We were done talking about me. I’d had enough invasion of privacy to last a lifetime. My ex-husband had made sure of that, and I’d come to southern California to escape the notoriety. That, and to escape my overbearing mother.

Definitely, I was done.

Until Blanche got here, Agent John Milner and I could talk about the weather.

THE PERENNIALLY-prompt Blanche had not shown up by ten-fifteen.

By ten-thirty, Agent Milner was beyond his legal limit as far as patience, and I’d polished off my scone and sugar-free hazelnut latte. I know, I know. It doesn’t do much good to hold the calories on the coffee drink and load them up on the pastry. I like to think they somehow cancel each other out.

Milner had finished off his coffee also. He was a black coffee kind of guy, no froufrou coffee drinks for Mr. FBI.

“She apparently changed her mind.” He pushed his ball cap back and squinted into the sun.

“I guess so.” Either that, or she really was the killer and had seen I’d brought reinforcements.

Oh, man. Ax that idea. I’d officially lost my mind. Even if Blanche were the killer, broad daylight at the Koffee Klatch was not the best pick for doing me in.

Agent Milner and I were fixing to bail when Alana Benda walked past, her Italian Greyhounds on a leash.

She wore Rogiani custom-fit three-quarter leggings and a spandex halter top from their Rebel collection. High-stakes fitness wear.

Toned and muscular, she strode into the coffee shop. Long spray-tanned legs glided through the busy coffee shop, her highlighted blond strands strategically flipped over one shoulder, and five-hundred-dollar sunglasses perched on her perfect nose.

Milner stared, mesmerized, totally slack-jawed, and lost in some fantasy world. His head followed her movements like Dogbert follows my path to get his treats from the pantry at home.

She was only inside a short time and then came out with her smoothie. She noticed me and came toward our table, Louie and Lexie beside her.

I leaned over and whispered to the speechless FBI agent, “Close your mouth, sugar, you’re gonna get drool on your nice shirt.”

“Hello, Caro.” Alana’s two dogs had matching T-shirts, aka tummy warmers, in a similar fabric to her workout clothes.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not against clothing for animals. Especially animals like Greyhounds who can sometimes get chilled in places with air conditioning.

“Hi, Alana.” I reached down and stroked the dogs who nuzzled my hand. “Meet my friend, John.”

“Nice to meet you.” She held out a hand weighed down by diamonds. The tennis bracelet sparkled against her tanned wrist, and a humongous diamond solitaire graced her ring finger.

I was afraid Agent Milner was going to kiss it.

“No doggie clients this morning?” Alana shifted the leash and pushed her sunglasses up to look at me.

“I was supposed to meet Blanche LeRue here, but she’s late.”

“That’s not like Blanche.”

“No, it’s not.” I agreed. “We had some things to discuss.”

“What kind of things?” Alana’s artificially aqua eyes shot to Agent Milner and back to me.

So much for thinking Agent Milner could blend in.

“About the rescue group.” I was purposely vague in my answer. The woman who was hardly ever interested in anyone but herself seemed a little too interested in what I planned to talk to Blanche about.

“Oh.” Her lips formed a perfect circle. I could practically see the wheels turning in her brain. “Nice to meet you.” She nodded to Agent Milner and slid her sunglasses back on. “Got to get going. We’ve got yoga class this morning.” She picked up her drink, and she and her Greys glided away.

Agent Milner watched her go until she was completely out of sight. “The dogs do an exercise class?”

“There’s a ‘Doggie and Me’ yoga class.” I explained.

Milner looked blank.

“Kind of like the ‘Mommy and Me’ classes they do for babies.”

“Babies do yoga?”

I laughed at his dumbfounded look. “You’ve got to get out more, hon.”

He shook his head like a dog shaking water from its fur. “I’m busy chasing bad guys, and people are taking their dogs to exercise classes.”

“Some people.” I grinned.

Agent Milner and I parted ways, and I headed to my office. I’d promised to let him know if I heard from Blanche, but I’d already tried to reach her and gotten no answer.

Whatever she’d been nervous about sharing regarding what she knew about the man who’d been killed, she must have decided to keep to herself. If that were the case, there wasn’t much I could do about it.

When I arrived, Dave’s office door was open, so I took the opportunity to stop by. Though we’d been in the same suite for several years, it wasn’t like we saw each other that much. I couldn’t think of the last time I’d been inside his office. To tell you the truth, I didn’t even know for sure when he’d married Alana. It seemed to my recollection he hadn’t been married when we’d first met which would have been when I rented my office space. He was clearly crazy about his wife, and she was crazy about his money.

His desk was stacked with files and papers. He’d hung his suit jacket on a hall tree in the corner and was working in shirt sleeves, but still managed to have a neat buttoned-down look about him.

“I just saw Alana and the dogs.” I said.

He continued to work head down.

“At the Koffee Klatch.”

He looked up from his paperwork, startled, like he’d just realized I’d been talking to him. “What was that?”

“I said I saw your wife at the Koffee Klatch. She was on her way to yoga.” I leaned against his doorway.

“Oh, yeah. It’s always some class.” Distracted, he looked back down at the spreadsheet on his desk. “This afternoon, it’s the exclusive ‘royal treatment’ at The Spa. Difficult to get an appointment. Probably costs as much as if they’re hosting a royal.”

Oh, my. Was that sarcasm I detected?

“I was supposed to meet Blanche LeRue,” I explained. “But she was a no-show.”

“What?” He looked up again, his light blue eyes suddenly focused instead of distracted, and I wondered why. Had Blanche perhaps confided in Dave?

“I tried her cell phone and the number at the Greys Matter office, but didn’t get an answer.”

“Why were you meeting Blanche?”

“Oh, you know, she had asked me to check in with the Greyhound owners who had dogs at the fund-raiser.”

“She called you or you called her?’ he asked.

“I called her.” I wasn’t sure why it mattered.

“And you were meeting to talk about the dogs?”

“That’s right.”

“She isn’t at the office?”

“I didn’t drive by, but no one answered the phone.”

He sure had a lot of questions when just a few minutes ago he’d been trying to get rid of me.

I picked up my messages and my files for the rest of the afternoon and headed back to my car. Days like this, I wondered why I even kept an office. The trusty Mercedes often ended up being where I spent more time.

DIANA AND I HAD decided on La Mie for lunch. That decision meant we’d probably let ourselves be talked into dessert.

It went without saying, between the earlier scone and now this lunch, I would have to take Dogbert for a very long walk later to make up for the calories. But Dog never minded a longer walk time, and La Mie’s desserts were always worth it.

Diana was already there when I arrived, and the waiter stopped by within minutes. We gave our orders, and he whisked the menus away, replacing them with a basket of fresh herbed bread.

“So.” Diana leaned in. “What’s new in the murder investigation?”

I filled her in on Eugene’s appearance and disappearance. Also, my discovery that Blanche had lied about not knowing the dead man.

“Oh, dear.” Diana sipped her Perrier. “I’m sure if Blanche claimed she didn’t know the man, she must have had a very good reason. She’s a good egg.”

“You know her better than I do, hon.” I trusted Diana’s judgment, but I knew there were secrets being kept, and until those involved started telling the truth, there was no chance of unraveling what had really happened.

“Blanche doesn’t have any family.” Diana brushed a crumb from the table. “The Greyhounds and their cause have been her family. I’m sure she would never do anything to endanger the rescue.”

Diana’s defense certainly rang true. Everything Blanche had said to me supported the impression that the Greyhound rescue effort was her life’s work. I didn’t think she’d do anything to put the organization at risk. But the question remained, would Blanche do something awful to protect it?

“She’d agreed to meet me this morning to talk about it, but didn’t show up.” I took a sip of water. “I feel bad about not talking to her first, but I had to share the info with the FBI guy.”

“Of course.” Diana patted my hand. “Would you like me to call her? I’ve gotten to know her fairly well, what with being on the board.”

“It couldn’t hurt. What’s the board’s reaction to what’s happened?” I asked.

The waiter appeared with our salads. The restaurant’s sesame-crusted ahi salad was legendary, and today’s did not disappoint.

Diana picked up her fork. “They’d like whoever killed this man to be found.”

“Is the rescue group in any financial trouble?” I felt I had to ask. “Blanche acted concerned about losing donors, but when I talked to Sam, he seemed to think the group’s finances were in good shape.”

“I agree with Sam. On the last financial report we got, everything looked good.” She took a bite. “Dave Benda is our accountant, and he’s always given a very thorough report.”

“That’s a relief. Maybe Blanche is just hyper-sensitive to losing supporters when she’s worked so hard to create a good organization.”

“What about this young man, Eugene?”

“The FBI is still looking for him. I feel terrible for Verdi. She believes he’s not involved, and, honestly, I do too. I think he’s terrified of going back to prison, and he doesn’t trust the system.”

“It would look better for him if he’d turn himself in.”

“I know. But he’s apparently gone into hiding again.”

We finished our salads, and, without too much convincing on the part of our waiter, we agreed to share a La Mie specialty, their decadent chocolate and caramel sundae topped with toasted pecans.

“We’re bad.” I said to Diana.

“We are,” she agreed. “And that’s one of our better qualities.”

Once we were finished, I knew it would take more than one long walk with Dogbert to burn off the calories I’d just consumed.

“Don’t forget we have our self-defense class tonight.” Diana reminded me. “I’m sure Betty will keep us entertained.”

“That’s right.” I smiled, thinking of the woman and her bizarre eyebrows. “So far it’s been better than I thought it would be.”

Diana leaned closer. “Isn’t that our instructor, Matt, across the way with Alana Benda?”

Diana tipped her blond head in their direction so as not to be obvious, and I followed the angle.

It was Matt and Alana. Head to head, oblivious to the other restaurant patrons.

He was more dressed up than I’d ever seen him. She’d changed out of her yoga clothes, and, though I didn’t know the designer, I was pretty sure the hot red backless flounce dress had been designed for a body such as Alana’s. A body that was
not
getting the exclusive “royal treatment” because she was not at The Spa where her husband thought she was.

The waiter brought our check, and, after we paid, I walked Diana to her car. I filled her in on my conversation with Dave Benda earlier and his mention of Alana’s appointment at The Spa, plus his unnatural interest in my meeting with Blanche.

“I can’t imagine Blanche wouldn’t call you if she couldn’t make it.” Diana shook her head. “That’s not like her.”

Almost the same words Blanche had used the day I’d been at her house. She’d been through a lot lately and had seemed more together, but still scattered, when I’d stopped by the office. Maybe the poor woman had simply spaced it off.

Diana promised to give Blanche a call as soon as she got home and let me know tonight at our “Be Safe” class what she was able to find out.

“See you there,” I called as I walked away.

Tonight, I wanted to be sure to ask Matt, our instructor, how Chachi, his Maltese, was doing at the dog park. And if I could work seeing him and Alana Benda at La Mie into the conversation, I’d be able to gauge his reaction.

Also, less importantly, I also needed to remember to dress more appropriately for this week’s class. Last week, my eighty-year-old friend had been more with it than me.

Maybe this thirty-year-old was the one who needed to get out more.