Yappy Hour (5 page)

I suddenly felt ashamed about my jealousy.

Why did it bother me that she got the houseplants?

While it was true I didn't have the greenest thumb, still, I felt slighted somehow.

“So where is Rachel? And when is she coming back?” I asked.

Abigail pushed open the door to the apartment, and Missy shot in like a cannonball, making a beeline to the back bedroom. Abigail gave a halfhearted call, “Missy!” Then she turned to me. “She's on a Mexican Riviera cruise.”

Heat flashed through me and I was immediately livid. I was stuck here in Pacific Cove, watching my harebrained sister's dog bar and stumbling over dead bodies, while she was off traveling! She had to be on Soleado Cruise Line, as they were the only one in town, the same company I was soliciting for a job.

Was there no justice in this world?

I should have been on that cruise. Rachel was downing margaritas and I was going to be stuck serving muttgaritas.

“Are you okay?” Abigail asked. “You look a little peaked.”

Even though I was furious with Rachel, I was still too much of a type-A personality to air my sister's dirty laundry with a stranger. So I said nothing and sat on Rachel's couch in a huff.

My entire relationship with Rachel seemed to flash before my eyes. Why did I have to run the bar? I wasn't even a good bartender. Sure, I could handle the cash and make sure the till added up every night, but really…?

Couldn't she have told me she was going to Mexico?

At the root of it, I was probably just plain jealous that this woman in front of me was a closer confidant for my sister than I was.

Abigail got busy tending to the houseplants. She quietly watered an orchid perched on the windowsill, patiently dusting around it. Next she moved to a plant by the door. She picked off the dry leaves and even muttered something to it.

The woman was talking to the plants!

Okay, she was the right person for the job.

I watched Abigail as she stooped to scoop the mail out of the small box on the backside of the door.

The mail!

I jumped up from the couch and snatched the mail out of her hand. “I'll take that!”

Abigail looked at me, startled. “Oh, yeah sure. I was only going to put it on her kitchen counter, next to the cordless phone, that's where she likes it.”

I nodded and flipped through the letters. It looked like ordinary mail: the power bill, the supermarket circular, and a flyer from Flab-U-Less, a new yoga studio opening up near Rachel's bar.

Nothing from Dan.

That much was good.

“When did Rachel start dating Chuck?” I asked.

Abigail pressed her lips together, looking considerably worried. “Well, that's the thing. They just haven't been dating all that long.”

“What happened between Rachel and Dan?” I asked.

I felt like I was walking on eggshells. I couldn't let Abigail know that Dan was dead. And yet, I remembered that when he and Rachel broke up, it was quite bad. Did Abigail have more information than I did?

Abigail shuffled over to the next houseplant. “Oh Dan. He was perfect for Rachel. I don't know why she didn't see that. I kept telling her to give him another chance.”

“She was the one who didn't want to be with him?” I asked. Somehow I remembered the story differently, but now I doubted how much Rachel actually shared with me.

Abigail shook her head. “He was ready to settle down. I think he would have made a great catch for Rachel. He knew the business backward and forward—”

“But he didn't like her business, right? The dogs?”

Abigail frowned. “Really?”

Ack. Had I just stepped in it? Clearly she didn't know about the letter. That much was good.

“Uh, well, there's a no-dog sign in front of DelVecchio's,” I said.

Abigail nodded. “But that's not because Dan doesn't like dogs. He's always been kind to Missy.” She looked around, realizing Missy wasn't in the room with us. She called out, “Missy? Missy?”

“Why then?” I asked.

Abigail looked confused for a moment. “Oh, the no-dogs sign? That's Gus DelVecchio. He's the chef there. He has a thing about dogs near his food. He's a bit of a crazy, if you ask me.”

I hid my smile. That was the first thing that had sounded sane to me all day. What was crazy about a chef not wanting animals near the food he'd labored over? Plus, restaurants were so expensive to run. He was probably fighting tooth and nail to stay in business, and likely the last thing a fine-dining Italian restaurant needed on its shared patio was a doggie happy hour … well, doggie anything, really.

“Anyway, I wish I could have convinced Rachel to give Dan another chance. He really loved her.”

“I didn't know they were that serious,” I said, feeling removed. Why hadn't I known what was going on in Rachel's life?

I'd been too wrapped up in my own life, my New York life: long hours at the office trying to make it as a financial advisor. I was glad now that I'd come home. Rachel needed me. She was my little sister, and I'd do whatever was necessary to protect her. But first, I had to figure out what happened to Dan.

“When did Rachel leave?” I asked, thinking back to the text she'd sent me early in the day.

Certainly the coroner would peg a time of death, and hopefully that would rule her out immediately.

“The cruise left this afternoon,” Abigail said.

Darn. Oh well, there'd be something else to clear her from suspicion entirely. I was sure of it.

And what about this Chuck guy? This new man in her life. Was it possible that he and Dan had fought over Rachel? Could she have fled with him, thinking she was protecting him somehow?

Why else would she leave on such short notice?

“When did you know she was leaving town?” I asked.

“I only found out this afternoon. She sent me a text. I tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn't hear of it. She wanted me to promise to pick up the mail and water the plants.”

“You tried to talk her out of a vacation?” I asked.

She frowned. “Vacation? No, not that. I tried to talk her out of eloping.”

 

Chapter Six

She's eloped?

I staggered back and sat on the couch. Missy materialized from Rachel's bedroom and seemed to sense my distress, because she beelined toward me and pressed her wet nose into my ankle.

Abigail watched me. “You didn't know?”

“What do you mean
eloped
? She
married
this Chuck guy? Who is he? How long have they been dating?”

“About two weeks,” Abigail said. “I'm sorry to have sprung it on you, I thought you knew.”

Which begged the question, why didn't I know? Rachel didn't feel she could confide in me, obviously. Disappointment weighed down my shoulders. After our parents passed, Rachel and I were left with only Grunkly, so it's not as if I imagined she wanted a huge family wedding, but I had always envisioned standing by her side on that big day.

Abigail picked up the dog. “Come on, girl, leave Maggie alone.” She looked around the apartment. “Do you think we should do anything else around here before we go?”

I glanced around, noticing the dust and general disarray of the place. “I'll tidy up a bit,” I said. “You don't have to stay.”

“We should look around for The Wine and Bark towels for the rehearsal tomorrow,” Abigail said.

“Don't worry about that. I'll look for them,” I said.

Perfect.

That way I could nose around Rachel's place and try to figure out why she'd married this guy. Who was he? Did she love him? Not to mention, I could poke around and see if there was anything tying her to the unfortunate death in her establishment.

I shuddered to think what I would do with anything should I find it.

“Do you know how I can reach her?” I asked.

“No, she's supposed to call me when they get to port. There's no cell phone coverage onboard.”

But the ship certainly had phones or radios.

Maybe there was a way to reach her after all. I'd have to go ask around at Soleado Cruise Line for a number. Surely that would endear me to whoever was interviewing applicants for the purser position. I could see it now:
“Please, I have to get an urgent message to my sister—who's eloped and said nothing to me—that a man was found dead in her bar. Oh, and, by the way, have you had a chance to review my résumé
yet?”

I pressed my fingertips to my temple, trying to fend off the headache that threatened.

“It was very nice to meet you, Maggie,” Abigail said, reminding me she was standing in the doorway.

I stood. “Right, right. Sorry. I was distracted. Thank you for taking care of the plants for Rach.”

Abigail nodded absently. “What happened at the bar tonight? Why were the police there?”

I bit my lip. I was under strict orders not to talk about Dan, but really, what would it harm? Maybe Abigail knew something. As I was about to speak, someone knocked on the door. Abigail gave a start and Missy began to bark.

I crossed the room and opened the door. Officer Brooks filled the hallway. “Good evening, Maggie. Is Rachel here?”

Abigail peeked out at him and Missy gave him an appraising sniff. “Hi Brad,” Abigail said.

He nodded at her.

“Rachel's out of town,” I said. “I thought I told you that already.”

I suddenly felt protective about her again. Why was this cop, handsome or not, snooping around her place?

“She's off and eloped,” Abigail chirped.

The fact that Abigail was so willing to spread gossip about my sister irked me. Although, if it was technically true, did that make it gossip or news?

Either way, I didn't like it. The elopement was Rachel's business, not this Officer What's-His-Name's or Abigail's.

Brooks raised an eyebrow. “Eloped, eh? When?”

“First thing this morning, they took off on the Mexican Riviera Cruise,” Abigail said.

“Who's the lucky guy?” Brooks asked.

“Chuck Hazelton,” Abigail said, proceeding to chat at length and fill Officer Brooks in on Rachel's private dealings.

I fought the overwhelming desire to throw them out into the hallway. Did I really have to stand here and listen to my little sister's love life be dissected?

“They'd only been dating a few weeks, can you believe it?” Abigail said.

Was it my imagination or was Abigail suddenly standing taller? Almost as if she was thrusting her well-endowed top half right under Brooks's nose.

“A little wild and crazy, wouldn't you say?” Abigail continued. “I don't suppose you do that sort of thing? Hey?” She poked at Officer Brooks's shoulder.

His eyes were on mine. He didn't seem to hear Abigail when she said, “Anyway, if you ever want to do coffee, let me know.”

At that Missy barked—she probably didn't want Officer Brooks in her life. Could dogs sense flirting?

“Hush now, baby,” Abigail said, then she regarded Brooks and me for a moment and realized that neither of us were speaking.

“May I come in?” he asked. “I'd like to ask you a few more questions.”

“Oh? Is that about what happened at the bar?” Abigail asked. “What did happen? A robbery? Are we unsafe here in Pacific Cove?” She clutched at his bicep.

He looked at her and said politely, “If you don't mind, Abigail, I'm not at liberty to discuss the details of an ongoing investigation.”

Abigail's eyes widened, but to her credit she didn't shriek like I figured Yolanda might when she repeated, “Ongoing investigation?”

Officer Brooks broke free of her hold and stepped in through the apartment door, smiling tightly at Abigail as he firmly closed the door behind him.

He pressed his back against the door and stayed next to it like a stanchion. “I came to inquire about Rachel. Do you have a way to reach her?”

“No, not yet,” I admitted.

He nodded. “Also, you left without giving Officer Ellington your statement.” Something flashed through his eyes that I read as anger. I only hoped it was directed toward Ellington and not me. “I can take that now,” he said.

I hesitated. I still didn't have a great statement to make.

What did I know?

Not much.

Brooks seemed to read my hesitation.

“It doesn't hurt. I promise.” He pulled out a notebook from his front chest pocket and flipped to a blank page.

“Do you want to sit down?” I asked, motioning to the couch.

He shook his head. “Not necessary. I'd just like you to take me through your paces starting with last night.”

“Last night? Do you have the time of death already?” I asked.

He poised his pen over the blank page. “Could you kindly tell me your whereabouts last night?”

Now I felt like a loser. For some strange reason I wished I'd had a hot date to report to him, I wanted to see if jealousy would flash across his masculine face, but my love life was deader than Dan.

“I was home last night,” I said.

“Did you have any company? Talk to anyone? Can anyone vouch for you?” he asked.

“Am I a suspect?” I replied.

“Well, I'm not putting you in handcuffs yet.”

A shocked expression must have crossed my face, because he gave a little self-satisfied smile, then said, “These are standard questions, miss. I'm not accusing you of anything. I'm only getting the facts.”

He was calling me
miss
now. We'd backtracked.

“Would you like something to drink?” I asked. “Coffee?”

He shook his head.

The thought crossed my mind to offer him a doughnut, but I figured it was too cliché.

“Mind if I have one?” I asked. Then immediately regretted it. Why was I asking for permission?