Yappy Hour (4 page)

The door banged behind me and I stuffed the paper I'd wrangled out of his pocket into my shirt.

Two women and a man were huddled around Yolanda. Each of them clutching a small dog on the end of a Day-Glo-green leash with the logo of The Wine and Bark on it. Across the cobblestone path was the doorway to DelVecchio's. The door was partially open, and a dark figure seemed to be hovering beyond the entrance. In the front window, next to what seemed to be the menu, was a prominently displayed N
O
D
OGS
A
LLOWED
sign.

No dogs? Could it be that I'd just found a place after my own heart?

Suddenly I felt hungry.

The woman next to Yolanda, an attractive brunette wearing short shorts and cuddling a Chihuahua, said, “Hi, I'm Brenda.” She stroked the dog's head. “And this is Pee Wee.”

I nodded at her.

“You're Rachel's sister?” she asked.

I nodded again, while the other woman said, “Oh! Rachel's told me so much about you! I'm Abigail, and this is Max.” She was wearing a flowered sundress, her dark hair pulled back in an elegant French braid, and holding fast to a white Shih Tzu with a rhinestone bow on the top of its head.

I glanced at the dog, but then realized she was introducing me to the man standing next to her, who was attached to a beagle chomping on a plush pink bunny. The man was tall and had a classic boy-next-door friendly face and wavy sandy-colored hair.

Brenda eyed the yellow police tape in front of The Wine and Bark
.
“What's going on?” she asked. “Was there a break-in?”

Yolanda waved her hands around dramatically. “Something really awful has happened, but Maggie and I have been sworn to secrecy, right Maggie?”

Before I could answer, Yolanda leaned into the group and said, “We probably shouldn't talk about it here, in front of…” She made a motion with her head toward DelVecchio's. “Well, you know.”

All eyes glanced toward DelVecchio's. The shadowy figure was gone, but the group seemed to stiffen and everyone stood straighter as if on high alert. Even the dogs seemed to come to attention.

“Well, we can't go into the bar, right?” Brenda asked.

I shook my head. “It's closed for tonight.”

A hush came over the small group, and I noticed they were all staring at me now, both the people and the dogs, except for Max. He was looking over at Brenda with a sort of long-lost puppy dog expression.

Ah, unrequited love.

“Well, we may be open tomorrow, but I don't know…” I looked toward the street at the parked police cruisers and several officers that were hovering around their vehicles. With any luck, the cops would have the bar closed until Rachel got back from wherever she was, and I'd be off the hook from tending bar and dealing with dogs.

“You have to be open tomorrow!” Yolanda squawked. “We've invited Mrs. Clemens; she's scheduled to come and get the paw paintings going. It's a practice run for the fund-raiser next Friday. People are paying over a hundred dollars to get their paw-cassos. You have to be open!”

“Paw-casso?” I asked.

“Mrs. Clemens brings canvas and all different color paints, then she lets our little babies dip in,” Abigail said, wiggling one of the Shih Tzu's paws at me as if she was waving. “They create one-of-a-kind paw paintings. But don't worry; the paint is completely pet safe.”

“I was really looking forward to the paw-cassos,” Brenda said. “Pee Wee is supposed to be the first one, right?”

“And I'm bringing the baby pool. We're going to set it up out here,” Abigail said, motioning to the patio landing in front of the bar.

“Uh … a baby pool?”

“Don't worry,” Abigail continued. “I'm bringing some fun float toys for the dogs to play with. It's all been taken care of.”

“I think Rachel got some Wine and Bark towels printed up for the dogs,” Yolanda said.

I was starting to feel like I'd entered the twilight zone, or at the very least an alternative doggie universe.

“Do you know where the towels are?” Yolanda asked. “Are they inside the bar? Or at Rachel's apartment?”

I knew Yolanda was waiting for an answer from me, but I simply couldn't get my brain to form words. A man had been pummeled to death inside the bar, and yet all she seemed concerned with was throwing some dog extravaganza.

The door to DelVecchio's opened and a uniformed waiter began setting up the patio seating. He glanced at our group a few times and then toward the street at the police congregating around their vehicles, but mostly worked efficiently.

He probably didn't know about Dan yet. And neither did the Yappies, I reminded myself. Except, of course, Yolanda.…

What else did she know? Did anyone know about Dan threatening Rachel? Did anyone know about the letter? Who else had a copy of it?

Another police cruiser arrived and parked. The officers who had been shuffling about jumped to attention.

The beagle with the pink bunny in his mouth began to sniff around my feet.

That's it! Time to go, before another one decided to leave his mark on me.

I took a step back. “Uh, guys. I'd love to stay and chat, but the bar's closed and…” The police began making their way down the cobblestone path toward us. A uniformed officer was in the front, and behind him were several other men, two in uniform and two in coveralls. “We should let the police do their job.”

The group around me turned to look at the officers.

Yolanda waved madly at the man in front. “Sergeant Gottlieb!”

Sergeant Gottlieb was completely bald, with a prominent nose and dark bushy eyebrows. He looked intense and gave me the impression he would find the person responsible for the crime. At the same time that relief flooded my body, a chill ran down my spine.

Before I could be happy about justice being served, I'd need to make sure Rachel was in the clear.

Sergeant Gottlieb motioned to his crew to go inside The Wine and Bark. I turned to watch them as they disappeared into the darkness of the bar.

Yolanda introduced me to Sergeant Gottlieb, and I found myself shaking his hand almost on autopilot. She told him we'd already given our statements to Officer Brooks.

Had I given a statement?

Sergeant Gottlieb patted my arm and said, “We'll be in touch.” He turned and followed his crew inside the bar.

The dark figure appeared again in DelVecchio's doorway.

I needed to get home and try to reach Rachel again. At the very least I needed to figure out what kind of statement to give Sergeant Gottlieb when he realized that I hadn't actually given one.

Brenda made eyes toward DelVecchio's, clearly indicating to the group something I wasn't in on. “Should we go someplace else so we can talk?” she whispered.

“We can go to my place,” Yolanda offered. “The pool's open and our complex manager is fine with animals. It's a good thing that most of the group is in Carmel at the pet show, otherwise, it wouldn't work.”

They started to pull away from me, then suddenly Yolanda linked her arm through mine and Beepo yapped at my heels. “Now we'll have time to visit and you can tell us all about yourself.”

“Oh, uh. I don't think so. I have to get back,” I said.

“Back to what?” Yolanda pressed. “You've had a horrible shock. I'm not letting you out of my sight until I know you're okay.”

“I'm fine,” I said.

“Don't worry, I have an extra swimsuit at home you can borrow,” Yolanda continued.

“I'm fine,” I repeated, stepping away from her and tripping over Beepo. The dog yowled and I fell onto the cobblestones, scraping my bare knees.

Hands pulled me to my feet, wet noses rubbed my ankles, the group making a tremendous fuss over me, the yapping and yipping both human and canine rising to an ear-shattering crescendo.

“I can't go with you,” I said.

The group continued to make noise, cries of “Don't be silly” and “You must!” The beagle dropped the sopping pink bunny on my foot and Pee Wee nipped at my toes.

I shuffled my feet away from the dogs and held my hands palm-side up toward them. “I'm not … I'm not … a doggie person.” Air filled my lungs and I let out a huge exhalation.

There! I'd said it!

A collective gasp came from the group.

Then blessed silence descended upon them, but the look they gave me was what they'd give the devil incarnate. Even the dogs seemed to have the same expression.

I dropped my hands. “I'm … I'm sorry,” I mumbled.

“Well,” Yolanda said, smoothing down her skirt. She gave a little flick of her wrist as she did it, as though she was whisking away the thought of my words, better yet, the thought of
me
and my kind with the motion.

“Not a doggie person?” Brenda asked incredulously, her hand over her heart, a look of shock on her face. Even her Chihuahua, Pee Wee, whimpered and skirted around behind her feet, hiding from me.

Suddenly I felt the need to defend myself. “I don't
hate
them,” I said, probably lingering a little too long on the word hate, so it sounded like I meant the exact opposite of what I'd said. “I mean, you know, I just don't—”

“Hey, not everyone's a dog person,” Max said.

Brenda cut him a look that seemed to communicate he'd gone down two notches in her estimation, then turned on her heel and pulled the leash of her Chihuahua. Max picked up the beagle and hurried to walk alongside Brenda.

The pink bunny still lay at my feet, and the beagle howled in agony as Max rushed off without it.

I stooped to pick up the bunny. “Uh … wait!” I called after him, but Max didn't hear me. The bunny was missing an eye and losing some stuffing out his side. I knew exactly how he must feel.

The dark figure from DelVecchio's had settled himself in the doorway. He was tall, wearing tight jeans and a snug black shirt. His arms were folded across his chest as he watched us. He radiated animal magnetism, and for no good reason I blushed.

How long had he been standing there?

Yolanda patted my arm. “I know we had a terrible shock today. But we are counting on you for tomorrow. After all, Rachel left you in charge of her business.” Yolanda's eyes narrowed at me. “And you don't want to ruin that, do you? Perhaps you
should
get home and get some rest. Things will be better in the morning.” She turned to follow Brenda and Max.

What things would be better? Certainly nothing would be better for poor Dan.

Abigail cast a worried glance over at the man in the doorway at DelVecchio's, then leaned into me. “We need to talk,” she whispered.

“What?” I asked.

She gave me a look I couldn't read and said into my ear, “I know what Rachel's done.”

 

Chapter Five

Between the dead body, the dogs, Rachel being MIA, and the guy watching me in the doorway, I feared a nervous breakdown, if not at the very least another panic attack.

“Where can we talk?” I asked Abigail.

Abigail, who was clutching her Shih Tzu, brought it up to her cheek, giving the impression she was seeking counsel from the dog. I waited as she blew lopsided kisses toward it. She was deliberating something, and I hated waiting.

“Want to go my place? I'm over at Casa Ensenada.”

She made a face as if I'd told her I was living in a dungeon.

“I have the keys to Rachel's place and it's close by. How about we go there?” she asked.

Why did she have keys to my sister's house?

Even though I found this annoying, I agreed to go. Perhaps there'd be a clue at Rachel's apartment about where she was, when she was returning, and if she had anything to do with poor Dan's unfortunate demise.

As we walked down the street toward Rachel's place, Abigail said, “I want you to know I was against it from the start.”

Against it? Against what?

Oh great.

What had Rachel done this time? Please God, let it be something I could fix. Please don't let her be involved in Dan's death.

“Against what?” I managed to squeak.

Abigail whirled around to face me. “Against Chuck, of course.”

Chuck? Who was that?

“I don't know a Chuck,” I said.

Abigail's eyes grew wide. “Oh, you didn't know him?” she whispered, half to me and half to her Shih Tzu, which seemed to be permanently lodged under her arm.

“Who's Chuck?” I asked again.

“Her latest beau,” Abigail said. “Don't get me wrong. He's very nice. It's just that, we don't … we didn't like him for her, you know?”

“Uhh…”

“Missy and I are very protective about Rachel.”

“Missy?” I asked.

“This is Missy.” Abigail gestured to the Shih Tzu, whose ears cocked at her name. She let out a little yelp, seemingly a greeting.

“Oh. Yeah, hi, Missy,” I said.

We turned the corner to Rachel's street and then climbed up the wooden stairs to her apartment. Rachel lived in two-story stone building that dated back to the early 1900s. Legend had it that the stones had been arduously gathered from Pismo Beach. The building included huge wraparound windows that must have had a wild view of the Pacific Ocean. Poor Rachel could only afford the east side, no view and a tiny cramped one-bedroom.

The main door to the building was unlocked, so Abigail, her dog, and I walked in without a problem. We climbed the interior staircase to the second floor, then Abigail dug out a key from her pocket and stuck it into Rachel's door.

“Anyway, I'm supposed to water her plants while she's gone.”

Oh, this was rich. Missy and Abigail got trusted with Rachel's houseplants and I got stuck with the bar? Seriously? Who was this woman anyway? How close was she to my sister?