Fifty Shades of Greyhound (The Pampered Pets Mystery Series) (6 page)

Sometime tomorrow I’d stop by the Greys Matter office and talk with Blanche. I needed to let her know the status of the list of clients anyway, and perhaps I could work in a question about whether Victor, or whatever his name really was, had been at the rescue’s office. And why she’d lied.

I WAS LATE FOR my very first self-defense class.

It had been such a busy day, I’d forgotten about it, so I’d had to rush to get there. The class was called “Be Safe” and Sam had gifted both Diana and me with the six-week course for Valentine’s Day. You have to love a guy with a sense of humor.

As I walked into the room and looked around at all the trendy workout wear, I wished I’d paid a bit more attention to my attire. I’d run home, slipped on my yoga clothes, and headed to the fitness studio where the class was being held.

Diana was already there. She sported an orange Splits59 workout set. All the other women were similarly dressed in designer fitness togs. On the other hand, I’d thrown on old black yoga pants and a gray Nike tank top. Oh, well. I was there to learn, not to look fashionable, right?

Even as I had the thought, I could hear my mama’s voice in my head saying, “Young lady, there is no reason you can’t do both.”

Our instructor was Matt Bjarni. A big, red-headed beefcake. If you ever needed to cast a bodybuilder type in a movie, you’d pick him.

Matt took us through an overview of what we would cover in the six weeks of sessions while two female assistants passed out brochures. The philosophy of the “Be Safe” program was to teach people to deal with real-world situations. I was happy to see avoidance and de-escalation of a situation were covered topics. It was all well and good to know some defensive moves, but the best case would be to never have to use them.

There were a variety of ages in the class. One mature lady in the front appeared to have come in her pajamas. Leopard print no less. Accessorized with a single strand of pearls.

At the moment, it sounded as if she were instructing Matt on proper classroom etiquette. Bless his heart, he just politely nodded.

The assistants had completed their work and joined him at the front of the room.

Matt faced the group. “Okay, let’s get started. The most important thing to remember about keeping yourself safe is not the defensive moves I’m going to show you. The most important thing is to try to stay out of dangerous situations.”

Diana and I looked at each other.

“Do you think Sam paid him to say that?” Diana muttered under her breath.

“Maybe,” I whispered back. “Sure sounds like Sam, doesn’t it?”

“If you do find yourself in a dangerous situation, your most valuable weapon is your brain.” Matt walked back and forth as he talked. “Use your wits. Don’t panic. Try to defuse before you defend.”

The lady in the pajamas had her hand in the air.

Matt either didn’t see it or was ignoring her.

Undeterred, she eagerly waved it back and forth.

Matt sighed a sigh we could hear even in the back of the room. He stopped in front of her. “Yes, ma’am. You have a question?”

“Name’s Betty. And you’re darn tootin’ I do, Mike.”

“It’s Matt.” He smiled. It was hard not to smile at the picture she presented in her leopard-print nightwear.

“I work retail,” Pajama Betty said. “What if I’ve got a shoplifter? I don’t have time for chitchat. I’m gonna have to move quick.” She made what appeared to be some karate type slices with her hands.

“We’ll get to those kinds of situations later.” Matt dodged the deadly weapons, aka Betty’s silk pajama-clad arms. “For now, let’s talk about how to avoid situations where you may be in danger.”

“Oh, boy.” Diana rolled her eyes. She was losing patience with the class quickly.

“How many of you walk, jog, or bike?” Matt asked.

The whole class, probably close to twenty women, raised their hands.

“I’ll bet there are many times when you’re on one of the trails alone.” Matt stood, feet apart in a wide stance, his hands steepled. “While our community is very safe, it’s better to have someone with you. Walk or bike with a friend. If you don’t have someone who can go along, at least consider going at times of the day when the trails are busy.”

He continued with admonitions for staying safe by making good choices. I thought to myself if I were someone who made good choices, the man in my life would not have decided I needed a “Be Safe” women’s self-defense class as a Valentine’s Day gift. (He’d also gifted me with a hefty contribution to the Laguna Beach ARL in my name and beautiful emerald earrings. Did the guy know me or what?) He’d given Diana the same. Well, not the earrings but the contribution and the self-defense class.

And so, here we were.

Next, Matt covered what he called “verbal self-defense” which meant things you could say to calm a potentially threatening state of affairs. I was all for using words instead of violence and he did a great job of explaining body language, verbal cues, and danger signs. The problem was really reading the person and knowing whether they would respond to attempts to be calmed. If they weren’t on drugs or not truly intent on killing you, you probably stood a chance.

“If you use these techniques, you may not have to use physical force.” Matt continued. “Even if your attacker is much bigger than you.”

“For instance, what if I approached this lady?” He moved in a menacing stance toward Betty. “What could she do to defuse and defend?”

“I tell you what I’d do.” Betty’s voice carried from the front. “I’d knee you in your boy parts and make a run for it.” She demonstrated with a raised knee and, judging from the expression on Matt’s face, she’d made contact.

“Let’s take a short break,” he croaked.

After the break, Betty was escorted to the back row by one of the helpers. Back where Diana and I had chosen to station ourselves.

“Hello, girls.” Betty shifted her purse to her other arm and held out a hand decorated with bright blue polish. “I’m Betty Foxx.”

“Nice manicure,” I noted.

“It’s from the Bow Wow Boutique. It’s paw-lish, spelled p-a-w, paw. I figure if I’m gonna sell the products, I should use them.”

Diana started to say something, but ended up with a polite cough. She seemed awestruck by Betty’s drawn-on eyebrows which were artfully painted on—and not with a beauty product intended for eyebrows. It looked like she’d used orange lipstick, but maybe it was another Bow Wow Boutique item she was trying out.

Betty pointed a blue-tipped finger at Diana “You have a dog?”

“Several,” Diana answered.

“We sell a lot of this stuff.” Betty turned her fingers this way and that. “I don’t get it, but who am I to say? I’ve got a job. Melanie’s a nice boss.”

“Melinda,” I corrected without thinking.

She swiveled my direction. “I don’t think I caught your name.”

Diana made the intro. “Betty, meet Carolina Lamont.”

“Holy dog farts, you’re the cousin what’s always stealing Cookie’s brooch.” Her lipstick eyebrows went up an inch. “She was fit to be tied last time you took it.”

“My brooch.” I corrected.

“Uh-uh.” Betty shook her head. “You got it with you?” She looked around like Grandma Tillie’s brooch might be somewhere in plain sight where she could snatch it for Melinda.

“Of course not,” I replied. “It’s somewhere even Mel can’t get to it.”

“Well, where is it?” She was a persistent cross-examiner.

“Oh, look.” I pointed. “I think Matt wants to get started again.”

The second part of the class went quickly, with Matt and his assistants demonstrating escape moves. He promised next week we’d get into more of the defensive moves.

“That was fun, girls.” Betty retrieved her shiny black patent-leather purse from the floor and joined Diana and me. She’d kept it on her arm for most of the class, and then finally had given in and parked it firmly between her feet. “When my daughter signed me up for this ‘Be Safe’ deal, I thought it would be boring, but I was wrong. See you next week.”

And with that, the little pajama-clad lady race-walked herself out of the room.

I looked at Diana. She looked at me. We burst out laughing.

“Well, bless her heart, she’s an original.” I grinned.

I wasn’t sure where Mel had found Betty Foxx, but the woman was an absolute hoot.

I CHUCKLED ABOUT Betty and her pajamas as I got dressed the next morning.

Maybe it would simplify life for us all if we just wore our pj’s all day. Though I didn’t think my oversized P.U.P. (Protecting Unwanted Pets) T-shirt and plaid shorts had quite the same flair as Betty’s leopard-print loungewear and pearls.

Malone had left a message on my cell phone letting me know I could come by the police station and pick up Grandma Tillie’s brooch.

Apparently, he and the investigative team had decided my grandmother’s brooch had nothing to do with the stabbing. Go figure, huh?

I was relieved they were releasing it. I knew my cousin, Mel, would have a difficult time breaking into police evidence to swipe it, but I’d feel so much better when it was back in my possession.

And, of course, now she had Pajama Betty on the lookout for it as well.

Not one to let any grass grow under my feet, I headed over to the Laguna Beach PD right away.

A short trip from my office, the Laguna Beach police department was located in a row of brick buildings in the downtown area. City Hall, the PD and the Fire Department were co-located in the complex.

There was an information desk as you entered the lobby and I approached it. Two familiar faces glanced up.

Sally looked up and greeted me. “Hi, Caro,” Small and trim, she looked harmless but make no mistake, the lady could hold her own.

“Hey, how’s our favorite pet shrink?” Lorraine, taller and tougher in appearance, turned from the desk where she was sorting papers.

“I’m doing well. How are you, and how is Buster?” Buster was her new Pug. He was a sweetheart of a dog.

“He’s great. I’m so glad to have him.”

We were on a first-name basis because we’d gotten to know each other when Diana had been falsely accused of murder, and had spent some time locked up in the Laguna Beach pokey. I know it’s hard to picture, but Diana’s one of a kind, and believe me, it had been a one-of-a-kind experience.

“Is Detective Malone in?” I asked. “He’s expecting me.”

“Sure, go on back.” Sally gestured. “You know where his office is.”

Unfortunately, I did. I didn’t really want to examine too closely the fact I had more than a passing knowledge of the location of the Laguna Beach Homicide Division’s office.

I slipped through the door beside the front desk and walked the hallway to Malone’s office which was just the hole in the wall I remembered. He was on the phone, but gestured for me to take a seat.

I perched on the edge of the folding chair across from him.

“Yes.” His face was taut, and his body language said he wasn’t thrilled with what he was hearing on the other end of the line. “Yes, I understand.”

He ended the call by putting down the receiver with a snap. I wondered if he’d learned the technique from my mama. Not quite slamming down the phone. It was a click. But with enough force that it communicated the disgust, the irritation, the I-am-done-talking-to-you-now finality. It was a skill and a talent.

Until this minute, I’d only been on the receiving end of the click; I’d never actually seen it done.

I raised my gaze from the desk phone to the detective behind the desk. His handsome face was expressionless. Judd Malone would make a great poker player. He leaned back in the chair, his posture relaxed and body language neutral. The only “tell” betraying his frustration was the tap of his pen.

He was obviously not having a good day. I’d just pick up my property and give him his space.

“I came for my brooch.”

He made eye contact, his steely blue gaze unwavering.

“My grandma’s brooch,” I prompted. “You called me.”

“I don’t have it.”

“What do you mean?” I scooted forward so fast I almost fell off the folding chair. “You lost it?”

“No, the Feds have it.” He tossed the papers he held onto the desk. Again, a lot of disgust in the action. Really, he and Mama Kat had it down.

“What?”

“The investigation is now a federal case. The Feds have taken all the evidence. I am off the case.”

“The Feds have my brooch?”

He nodded. “It’s safe, Caro. They’ll return it when their CSIs are done going through all the evidence.”

“Excuse me, Detective! The Feds have Grandma Tillie’s brooch?” I knew I was sort of shrieking by now, but you know what? I didn’t care.

“Yep.” Malone leaned forward in his chair. “The Feds have your grandma’s brooch and my murder investigation.”

He didn’t shriek, but from the thunderclouds behind his eyes, I could tell he would have if it wouldn’t ruin his tough cop image.

“Who do I need to talk to?” I would call them up and let them know I’d be expecting my property returned right away.

“That was FBI field agent John Milner.” Malone pointed at the phone. “I believe you two have met. Would you like Agent Milner’s number?” He jotted the info on a scrap of paper and extended it to me.

I snatched the note and rose to leave. “Agent Milner will be hearing from me.”

“I’m sure he will.” I got the impression he thought Milner deserved the grief.

I hurried from the office before Malone could think to mention how I was dressed the last time he’d seen me.

I TRIED THE number Detective Malone had given me before I headed to my first appointment of the day.

Voicemail. Great. I left a message.

My message was no-nonsense, but my face burned as I realized he’d undoubtedly connect the name I’d left with the crazy jet-haired chick in the skimpy outfit from the other night.

I could not believe Grandma Tillie’s brooch was now out of reach in Federal evidence. It was one thing when it was locked up a few blocks away and in the possession of Detective Malone. But now in federal evidence?

Bizarre. Ridiculous. Unacceptable.

Turning the Mercedes onto Laurel Canyon Road, I took some deep breaths. It was just a piece of jewelry. True, it was a family heirloom and important to me, but, seriously, no one had died.

It was safe where it was, and I would get it back. It was simply going to take a little longer.

The good news was even though I didn’t have the brooch, neither did my cousin, Mel.