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  I came out from behind the bar and hugged Chuck, then my sister. She clung to me. “I’m so happy to see you, you have no idea. You can’t leave…”

  “Did you have a bad week, too?” I asked.

  “The worst,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I wanted to go on the cruise and get hitched, but then Chuck talked me into Vegas. When we got there all he did was work and gamble. He ignored me the whole time. I was bored to tears.”

  I stifled a laugh. “We were anything but bored here in Pacific Cove.”

  “I told him I needed more time,” Rachel whispered. “But I don’t think we’re going to last.”

  Chuck struck up a conversation with Max. “Looks like I might have found an angel investor in Vegas.”

  Max perked up as he mixed a pitcher of muttgaritas.

  Rachel came back behind the bar with us and began to mix cocktails like a pro. I brought her up to speed on the murders and the impending lawsuit as Brenda made her way toward us.

  “So, I think I have relatively good news,” she said. “I was able to reach your building insurance broker and I think I have grounds to argue that even though your payment is late, you’re still in the grace period, and if you pay the insurance premium within the next fifteen days—”

  “The check’s in the mail,” I said.

  Rachel blew a long rush of air out and thumped me on the back. “My sister, the accountant! We can count on her!” Then she glanced nervously around the room. “Now, if only we can figure out who among us killed Dan and Oscar.”

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Melanie’s brother, the magician, took the stage. He began by doing some simple card tricks. The patrons inside quieted down and watched him as they sipped their greyhounds.

  Meanwhile, outside, a crowd was forming on the patio: Mrs. Clemens, several of the ladies that I recognized from the Roundup Crew, and several other people that I didn’t recognize. Inside the bar, Yolanda separated herself from Mr. Roman Nose and sprang over to me.

  “Geraldine is here!” she hissed.

  Max looked up from his bar prep work. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” he said, tongue firmly planted in his cheek.

  Yolanda squeezed my arm. “You don’t understand. The woman is pure evil! We can’t have her in here. I’m sure she didn’t buy a ticket to the fund-raiser, because I wouldn’t have sold it to her for all the tea in China! Can you go and block her from coming in here?”

  I found myself ridiculously happy that Yolanda was speaking to me again. Even though it had only been a few minutes since I’d accused her of murder, it seemed like the Geraldine feud was worse. “Are we monitoring the door?” I asked.

  “Yes!” Yolanda shrieked. “She’s not allowed in here!”

  The bar door flung open, and before they could stream inside, I leapt toward them. “Tickets, tickets, everyone, I need to see the tickets.”

  As much as I hated playing enforcer, I was guilt-ridden over suspecting Yolanda and Beepo and wanted a chance to make it up to them.

  Mrs. Clemens patted my arm. “My dear! Certainly I don’t need a ticket. I’m the entertainment.”

  Evie overheard this, to which she loudly hollered, “No, I’m the entertainment. You’re a sideshow. Like in a circus. People gawk at you.”

  Mrs. Clemens raised a perfect pencil-thin eyebrow at me. “Oh dear!”

  “Don’t mind her,” I said. “Come on in, Mrs. Clemens.”

  Mrs. Clemens looked flustered. “I have to set up outside. I only came in for a glass of wine.”

  “Sure, sure. Of course.” I hailed a finger at Max, who smiled and took Mrs. Clemens’s arm.

  Abigail approached Mrs. Clemens. “Can I help you set up?”

  Brenda powered over to them. “Oh, no you don’t. You only want to help set up so Missy can be first with the paw-casso, but Mrs. Clemens already promised me Pee Wee is supposed to be the opener.”

  For the first time that evening, I noticed Brenda’s feet. Instead of flashy designer high heels, her feet were clad in suede Dog-Face shoes.

  I giggled. “Love your shoes.”

  Brenda twirled for me. “Aren’t they a hoot? They’re Shorty Suede Dog-Face Smoking Slippers, by Marc Jacobs. They’re so comfy, too. I can order you a pair, but don’t distract me now, I have to fight for Pee Wee’s rights!”

  Abigail feigned innocence. “No, no, no. That’s fine. Pee Wee can be first. I have to set up the baby pool.” They all streamed back out onto the patio landing in front of the bar. Rachel rushed out after them to supervise, and I was left to enforce the door policy against Geraldine.

  Geraldine was dressed in a stunning sweeping black gown. The top was beaded and it had a full pleated skirt, making her look regal as she clutched the leash of her perfectly coiffed black show poodle. She pushed her way past the crowd and up to the door.

  I gave her my best smile. “May I please see your ticket?”

  She frowned. “Ticket? Oh my, I don’t have one. Can I buy one here?”

  “I spoke with the lady in charge. I’m sorry, we’re all sold out.”

  “That’s nonsense,” Geraldine insisted. She waved frantically at Yolanda, who turned her back on us.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Fire marshal and all…”

  “Tell Yolanda, I’m not going to be turned away!” Geraldine said.

  I glanced over my shoulder to where Yolanda stood at the bar. She was whispering something to Max, who came around from behind the bar and approached us.

  We waited for him expectantly.

  He cleared his throat. “Last minute ticket purchases are five hundred dollars.”

  Geraldine stomped her foot, alarming the poodle, who howled. “That’s highway robbery!”

  “It is for a good cause,” I said.

  Gus appeared by my side and waved a platter of the salivation-inducing pizzettas under Geraldine’s nose. The poodle barked ravenously at the tray of food and Gus smiled.

  More guests arrived behind Geraldine, and Mr. Roman Nose began to hand out the bidding paddles.

  “Oh all right!” Geraldine said. She reluctantly opened her black beaded pocket purse and wrote me a check.

  Max gripped my wrist. “It’s her,” he said suddenly.

  I looked out at the crowd streaming in now in time for the auction. There was a woman, with a helmet of gray hair, dressed in an explosion of black sequins. Resting on her chubby wrist was a leash attached to one very familiar beagle with a pink plush bunny in his mouth.

  Uh oh. Mrs. Murphy!

  The auctioneer’s booming voice silenced the crowd just as Brenda was about to intercept Mrs. Murphy. “Get out there!” I said to Max. “Now, before…”

  Max rushed out to the patio and distracted Brenda as Mrs. Murphy came inside and handed me her ticket. I sat her in front for the auction, hoping that would buy Max the necessary time with Brenda.

  Mrs. Murphy stroked the dog’s head. She looked up at me and said, “Max has told me so much about you! I’m Patty Murphy.”

  “Yes, of course,” I said. Bowser dropped his bunny at my feet and I picked it up for him. “And this is Bowser.” I rubbed his ears. “I know him well.”

  Various dogs began to swirl around, barking and sniffing each other. The auctioneer’s voice bellowed, announcing the next item. Mrs. Murphy leaned in and said to me, “I hope you don’t think me too cruel for showing up with Bowser. I know what the girl means to Max, and I figured the only way for them to start up a real relationship was to end the charade.”

  I watched my sister come back in through the bar doors and figured now was as good a time as any to end another charade. I smiled at Mrs. Murphy and patted her on the back before I left. “You may be right.”

  * * *

  Yolanda and Abigail flanked the bar.

  “Two greyhounds! One for me and the other for Mrs. Clemens,” Yolanda said.

  “How about a pitcher of salties?” Rachel asked. “You can take it to the patio. If we keep th
e drinks up, the auction might be more profitable.”

  Rachel whipped up a quick pitcher and I hovered next to her. I was dying to ask her some questions, but there were so many ears around it hardly seemed possible. I closed my eyes and thought, Rachel? Where did you keep your gun?

  Any hope or faith I’d had in our sibling ESP evaporated as Rachel said, “I just had one of the pizzettas; can that guy cook or what? I heard you two are having a fling.”

  I made a gun out of my pointer finger and my thumb.

  “Oh, would you stop it,” Rachel said. “I’m sure he’s not a killer, just like I’m sure Yolanda isn’t, either.”

  I shook my head and pointed at Rachel.

  Rachel thumped a hand across her heart. “Are you accusing me now? For God’s sake, Maggie, what’s wrong with you?”

  Patrons crowded around the bar, and Rachel thrust the pitcher into Yolanda’s hands. “Will you take this out to the patio for me?”

  I leaned in close to her ear and hissed, “Where did you keep your gun?”

  She frowned. “My gun?”

  “The waiter, Oscar, was killed with a Ruger P45,” I said. “Someone broke into your apartment, did you keep it there?”

  “I don’t remember the last time I even used it. Probably some silly target practice at Stag’s Leap, but I haven’t been there in ages.”

  “Did you use Dan’s picture for target practice?” I asked.

  Rachel’s face registered confusion. “What? What are you talking about?” Before I could answer, some patrons pressed up against the bar and ordered wine. Rachel uncorked a bottle and asked me out of the side of her mouth, “Are your sure it was my gun?”

  “No,” I admitted. “I just heard it was the same type of gun.”

  Someone called out an order for a mutt-tini, and Rachel shooed me, with a worried look on her face. “Let’s talk more,” she said.

  * * *

  The auction was well under way: doggie jewelry, sweaters, beds, and bowls were being sold at scandalous prices. The bidding paddles flew around the room as fast as the drinks. I retreated to the relative safety behind the bar.

  Bishop was stationed there, consuming a worrisome amount of alcohol. “Are you still going to be able to play?” Max asked as he topped off another drink for him. “I know Evie doesn’t like you to—”

  Bishop waved a hand around, annoyed. “I don’t care what she says.”

  “How long have you two been dating?” Max asked.

  Bishop looked surprised. “We aren’t dating.”

  “Really? I thought you were,” Max said.

  “We always fight.”

  “That’s why I thought you were dating,” Max said.

  I poked Max in the ribs.

  Bishop laughed. “You’re probably right. I’d like to get with her. But she’s still hung up on the guy who died.”

  “Is that right?” I asked.

  She hadn’t seemed all that interested in Dan when she’d spoken to me.

  Bishop finished up his cocktail and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “She’s been hung up on that guy for ages. Ever since they took that trip together to the hunting lodge. I don’t think he was all that interested in her, though. He was more into your sister. Broke his heart when she showed up with that Chuck guy.” Bishop looked around as if he was suddenly worried about being overheard. “No offense, man,” he said.

  Max laughed. “It’s okay. Chuck’s an odd duck. We’re business partners, but even I don’t know how long that will last. We’re running out of money fast.”

  “Anyway,” Bishop said, “I’d been hoping that after the guy died and all, you’d think she’d be ready to move on.”

  “It’s only been a week,” Max said.

  “Yeah, well, I think they only dated a short time, so it should be easy enough to get over him, right? I mean, you can’t date a dead guy.” He ordered another round of salty dogs, which I noticed Max watered down significantly.

  “What happened with Brenda? What did she say when you told her Bowser wasn’t your dog?” I asked.

  Max smiled widely. “Oh, she knew!”

  I laughed. “All this time, hiding and sneaking around, and she knew?” I asked, incredulous.

  Max grinned. “Yeah, we’re going to the movies tomorrow night.” He winked at me and said, “Don’t wait up, Mom.”

  The bar was getting overheated, and I felt the need for fresh air. I glanced out at the patio; it seemed hectic out there. “I’ll take a pitcher outside, keep the refreshment flowing,” I said.

  Max handed me a pitcher of muttgaritas and sent me on my way. I emerged out on the patio with the pitcher in hand and felt like downing it myself. Dogs were lollygagging poolside with chew toys and floaties, while others were busy getting their paws dipped in colorful paint.

  I looked around for Officer Brooks, but he and Sizzle were gone. Disappointment dragged me down. Had I completely alienated him?

  Evie was sitting alone at a patio table that had been pushed to the side to make room for the pool. She was smoking, and I envied the peace she seemed to be enjoying.

  Ah heck, with Rachel back, I supposed I was allowed a break. I took the pitcher over to Evie and poured her a glass. “Can you have a drink before you take the stage?”

  She blew out a smoke ring and studied me. Her eyes were ringed in heavy black eyeliner that gave her a wolfish appearance. “Maybe just one,” she said, glancing back toward the bar. “Is Bishop drunk?”

  “Not really,” I said.

  She shook her head. “Smasher went off to get stoned and Bishop is drunk. Tonight is going to be a disaster, not that it matters. What with all the hoopla going on around here, who cares what we sound like?”

  As she spoke, I tried to piece together an image of her with Dan. I’d already formed an opinion about him over the last few days. He was complicated. A gambler, a playboy. And Evie was such a brooder.

  I swirled my muttgarita in my glass, wondering how Evie and Dan could have ever gotten together.

  Evie suddenly realized that I was watching her in a very intense way.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I was just thinking about what an unlikely couple you and Dan must have made.”

  She swirled her drink around and took a sip. “Huh?”

  I leaned closer to her. “Do you like to travel?”

  She shrugged. “Travel? Yeah. I’d like to do that. I haven’t gone away in ages.”

  “But with Dan you got away, right?”

  Evie sat straight up as if I’d just electrocuted her. “What?” she demanded.

  “Oh, nothing. I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just that, well, Bishop mentioned you guys dated and you went to a hunting lodge.”

  She relaxed back into her chair and lit another cigarette. “Oh that. Well, Rachel told me I could use the cabin whenever I wanted. Fringe bennies from renting out the storage space. Anyway, about Dan, I wouldn’t say we dated, exactly. It was nothing serious. Just a little fun.” She took a drag on her cigarette and blew out a smoke ring. “It was never going to last, between us. I mean, even if he had lived, poor guy. He was too uptight for me.”

  Uptight? The gambler and playboy?

  The door to the bar flew open and Bishop stumbled out. “They’re wrapping up the auction now, Evie. If you want that fancy collar you better get in there.”

  Evie made a rude hand gesture at him and he laughed.

  “Seriously, we’re up in a few minutes,” he said. “Where’s Smasher?”

  Evie motioned toward the garbage alley and mimicked smoking a pot cigarette. I watched Bishop stalk toward the alley, goose bumps raising on my arms as I thought of poor Oscar shot dead there.

  When would there be justice for Oscar and Dan?

  Chapter Thirty-three

  As I thought over what Evie said, nausea threatened to overtake me again. I’d made a mistake. Yolanda hadn’t killed Dan, and neither had Max. It had to have been Evie. The hunting lodge Bishop
mentioned must have been Stag’s Leap, not a hunting lodge at all, but those were easy to confuse. If Evie was dating Dan and had visited Stag’s Leap, then that explained both the cigarette smell in the cabin and the corkboard with Dan’s image.

  The corkboard hadn’t really struck me as something Rachel would have done. Rachel was so go-with-the-flow it was hard to imagine her getting so caught up with some guy that she’d take the time to have target practice with his image. And the cigarette smell in the cabin had never added up for me. Rachel didn’t smoke.

  Also, Evie had access to The Wine and Bark. It explained why the doors to the bar were unlocked that night.

  A chill zipped across my back. I’d just given Brooks evidence against Yolanda and yet … I’d been wrong.

  How could I prove it’d been Evie all along?

  I watched her skulk around, getting the stage ready for the show. Now she seemed so obviously a murderer to me, but could I be wrong again?

  Gus found me and offered me some cheese and crackers. I grabbed his hand and pulled him out of earshot from the crowd.

  “It’s her!” I said. “Evie Xtreme. Did you know she dated Dan?”

  Gus frowned. “What?”

  “I think Evie killed Dan. I found out earlier that they’d dated.” I explained my theory to him, but before I could finish, Yolanda sauntered up to us.

  “Darlings! This is such a fabulous success,” she trilled. “I can’t thank you enough for helping me. Without you—”

  “Yolanda!” I interrupted. “I think I know who killed Dan.”

  She giggled, obviously drunk by now. “I know you think I did it but, darling”—she wiggled a finger playfully at me—“just because the pee-pee matches, does not a murderer make.”

  She swooned dangerously and Gus caught her. “Yolanda, I think you should have a seat. Can I get you a glass of water? Or food? Have you eaten anything tonight?”

  Yolanda waved him off, as Evie took the stage and screamed into the microphone like a madwoman, “Who’s ready to howl!”

  The dogs all picked up on her pitch and joined in an ear-shattering yowl.

  “Yeah, let me hear ya!” Evie screamed.

  Smasher banged on the drums and Bishop joined in with the guitar. They sounded hideously out of sync, but based on the crowd’s reaction, I suspected I was probably the only one who noticed.