Synopsis |
Reviews |
Excerpt
Lights! Camera! Murder!
A star-studded fundraiser to help provide service dogs for wounded warriors sets tongues wagging . . . about Caro Lamont, pet therapist to the stars.
Caro’s ex-husband Geoffrey is spreading rumors about her competence and snuggling up to the biggest stars, including Purple - the temperamental diva, who's the lynchpin of the celebrity line-up. All too soon, Caro is losing clients, her reputation, and patience with Geoffrey's shenanigans.
More trouble is unleashed when the high-strung headliner is found dead and Geoffrey was seen leaving her hotel room. With a potential killer on the loose, Caro is hounded by questions about who had reason to want Purple out of the picture. Though all the evidence points to her ex, Caro believes the police are on the wrong trail.
Even if her sleuthing puts her in the doghouse with Detective Judd Malone, Caro must dig up the truth before the real killer gets away with murder.
Sparkle Abbey is the pseudonym of two mystery authors (Mary Lee Woods and Anita Carter). They are friends and neighbors as well as co-writers of the Pampered Pets Mystery Series. The pen name was created by combining the names of their rescue pets—Sparkle (Mary Lee’s cat) and Abbey (Anita’s dog). They reside in central Iowa, but if they could write anywhere, you would find them on the beach with their laptops and, depending on the time of day, with either an iced tea or a margarita. Visit them at sparkleabbey.com.
"Such a cute series!” — Polished Nails and Puppy Dog Tales blog
Chapter One
I SHOULD HAVE known something was up by
the way folks were looking at me. The sideways glances and the subtle turning
away should have given me a clue. But the swirl of chatter, the yips and barks,
and the swell of people and pets, surrounded me as soon as I walked in.
Still, I haven’t
always been a pet therapist, I was trained as a clinical psychologist, for
Pete’s sake. You’d think I’d have a little bit of insight.
But there’d been
a fender bender in the southbound lanes of PCH and traffic had been backed up
so I was running late. I’d skidded into the hotel in a big ole hurry, gotten
directions, and raced to the volunteer check-in at greyhound speed. Then in
such a tizzy over my tardiness, I just assumed that was the reason for the
stares. I’d failed to catch that there might be something else going on.
"Oh, there you are.” Rufus McGrill, the onsite
organizer for the star-studded event, hurried up, his tablet at the ready, his
face nearly as red as his hair. "People have been looking for you.”
"I’m so sorry.” I dug in my bag for my
credentials which the volunteer packet I’d been given said I needed to be
wearing at all times. "Traffic was awful.” Ah, there it was. I slipped the
lanyard over my head and adjusted the tag, which proclaimed, "Barking with the
Stars Official Pet Liaison.”
My friend Diana Knight had been the one who’d
gotten me involved in the celebrity fundraiser which would benefit a group
called Warriors for the Paws, but I have to tell you, convincing me had not
taken a ton of arm twisting.
When Sunny Simone, the CEO of Warriors for the
Paws, had told me that every day twenty-two veterans take their own lives, I’d
felt sick. Twenty-two. What a shocking number. That’s a suicide every
sixty-five minutes. Her group matched trained therapy dogs with veterans who’d
developed post-traumatic stress disorders from the horrors they’d experienced
in combat zones. Too many soldiers came back with PTSD, and these dogs could be
just what the doctor ordered for so many—from waking their human from night
terrors to helping the veterans remain calm in stressful situations to helping
with episodes of depresssion. I’d checked them out and Warriors for the Pawswas making a difference. I was in.
"Yoo-hoo, Caro.”
Hearing my name, I looked for the source.
I spotted an arm waving from across the room.
Diana Knight was so petite that I couldn’t see the rest of her, but I
recognized the blond hair and the flash of hot-pink nails. And, well, who could
miss those diamonds?
Once Hollywood’s darling in a series of classic
romantic comedies in the fifties, Diana was a classic herself. Now, in her
eighties, she had not slowed down one bit. As she parted the crowd and headed
toward me, I could see she had her rescue puggle, Mr. Wiggles, tucked close to
her. Diana’s heart was as big as her fame, and she collected strays like she
collected fans. I guess in a way you could say I was one of those strays.
"Oh, my.” She stopped in front of me and took a
deep breath. "What an unbelievable turnout of volunteers.” Dressed to the
nines, as always, she sported an icy-blue pantsuit with a brightly colored
scarf thrown over her shoulders and wrapped around the pup like a sling. "Mr.
Wiggles is glad to see you. Aren’t you, buddy?” She picked up the pup’s paw and
wiggled it so it looked like he was waving at me. "Say good morning to Caro.”
"Good morning.” I gave the pup a nuzzle.
"Don’t you look amazing, as always?” she
continued. "Is that a new Stella McCartney?”
I nodded. Diana loved fashion and kept up with
the latest designers. She hardly ever guessed wrong. I’d picked up the top
recently and loved the dog-print motif.
"If I had your height and gorgeous red hair, I’d
wear her, too.” She continued without taking a breath, "Have you seen Armand
and Elizabeth? They were looking for you. And that nice Rebecca Tyler was
name-dropping your name all over the place and bragging about how wonderful you
were during the Pet Intervention project.”
Mr. Wiggles pushed against the scarf/sling and
gave a little yip.
"The crowd is a little overwhelming for him. He’s
not used to not being able to run around at will.” She placed him on the floor
but kept her hand on his leash.
"But a crowd is great for the cause, though,
right?” I smiled at Rufus who waited for Diana to finish, though I couldn’t say
he waited patiently. In fact, his red hair now stood upright, making it appear
as if his forehead was on fire.
"You were saying...” I threw
the conversation back in his direction.
"Sunny would like for you to take a look at the
accommodations for our headliner, Purple, and her dog, Lavender. I know you’ve
already been working with them. Anyway, Sunny said you had to approve the
dressing room setup.” He glanced down at the screen. "And then, if you could,
check on... uhm... Babycakes?”
I nodded. "That’s Shar Summer’s Chinese Crested.”
Shar was a hit sensation on a popular television show about triplet sisters who
perform magic. In reality, all three triplets were played by her. I’d known
this type of event would be right up her alley.
"That’s right.” Rufus clutched the tablet to his
chest.
"First, I have to check in with Kristen Karmania
and her teacup Chihuahua. I promised I’d let her know when I got here.”
"No.” I wasn’t sure who said it first, Diana or
Rufus, but they both said it with force.
"What do you mean, no?” I looked from one to the
other.
"Well...” Rufus stood poised
like he wanted to make a run for it. "You see...” His voice
trailed off and he looked down at his tablet.
"Oh, for Pete’s sake, just tell her.” Diana
rolled her eyes. "KK and her band of bimbos have been led astray by your ex and
have said to tell you your services are no longer needed. They don’t even have
to chutzpah to tell you in person.”
"Geoff is here?” I wasn’t as worried about being
dumped as I was about my ex-husband. I should have expected it, but I hadn’t
heard from him recently so I’d wrongly assumed he had moved on. "That...”
I couldn’t think of a term for Geoffrey that I could say in polite company.
"I’m afraid, it’s worse than that.” Diana took my
arm and steered me away from Rufus and the group of people who had slowly
inched closer in an attempt to hear.
"You see, he has not only inserted himself into
the Barking with the Stars event and ingratiated himself to some of the
celebrities, but he’s also been spreading rumors.”
"What kind of rumors?” I didn’t care so much
about losing Kristen Karmania, or KK as the press referred to her. She hadn’t
been a client for long and in the short few weeks I’d been working with her,
I’d had my doubts about whether she really had any interest in following my
advice. Chihuahuas can be high strung, but Scamp, her teacup, was Zen in
comparison to KK herself.
"Well, hello there, Ms. Lamont. Do you care to
comment on the all the buzz?” Callum MacAvoy, ace reporter for the local
television station and a constant thorn in my side, inserted himself between
Diana and me.
I wasn’t sure if he meant the event or the rumors
being spread by my ex. Either way the answer was the same.
"No, I don’t.” I looked behind him and didn’t see
a camera crew so he wasn’t really reporting on anything at all. Plain and
simple, MacAvoy was on a fishing expedition.
"Excuse us.” I scooped up Mr. Wiggles, linked my
arm with Diana’s, and moved us to a corner that seemed semi-private. "What is
Geoff saying?”
"He’s telling people, your clients, that you are
taking some time off. That you’re on the verge of a nervous breakdown since
being held hostage by that crazy man you helped capture a while back, and
you’re going to give up your practice and move to England.” Diana’s voice
quivered with disgust.
"What?” I couldn’t wrap my head around Diana’s
words. "I’m what?”
"There you are.” Of course, his voice projected
from across the room.
Speak of...
Though it was a sad cliché, "speak of the devil”
was exactly what popped into my head as Geoffrey Carlisle, my ex-husband,
slithered up and put his arm around my shoulders.
"Are you okay, my dear?” Gloriously handsome on
the outside and rotten to the core on the inside, Geoff’s fake worry might have
sounded sincere. To someone who hadn’t been emotionally destroyed by him. "I’ve
been hearing the most awful things. Like you’re losing it.” He smiled but more
at the nearby eavesdroppers than at me.
"I am about to lose it, but not in the way you
mean.” I kept my voice low. "Remove your arm from me. And don’t touch me
again.”
He dropped his arm and took a step back. The man
had movie-star looks and played them. His dark hair a perfect foil to his
expensive custom-made charcoal suit—blue tie chosen to complement his vivid-blue
eyes. Contacts.
"You look good, Carolina.” His tone was pleasant
but dripped with insincerity.
I glanced down at my jeans and the designer
dog-print top. There was a time when Geoff’s polish would have caused me to
feel inadequate. Not anymore. I knew who I was and I liked my bohemian look.
Besides, my clothes were all washable, and when
you’re dealing with wound-up canines, that trumps fashion any day. Somehow, I
didn’t think his high-priced Tom Ford suit would fare so well when someone’s
puppy peed on it.
Chapter Two
DOWN, GIRL. I walked away
from Geoffrey without another word. I’d learned there was nothing to be gained
from engaging with someone who wouldn’t know the truth if it hit him upside the
head. The last time we’d talked, I’d told him in no uncertain terms that I
hoped we never crossed paths again. Ever. And I’d meant it.
Now, here he was. Smack dab in the middle of my
world again and, from what Diana had shared, not only attempting to take over
my clients, but this time he also seemed intent on trashing my reputation.
As I stomped back to the dressing rooms, I was
pretty sure everyone I passed could see the steam coming out of my ears. I
stopped and took a deep breath. I’d deal with the rumors and lies later, but
first I needed to check on Babycakes. That was, if Shar Summers hadn’t also
fired me.
It was easy to find Shar. I simply followed the
trail of pink. The television star was looking over what would be her dressing
room. I poked my head in the door. It was already awash in pink satin, pink
pillows, and pink clothes.
She looked up from where she sat at a sparkly
dressing table draped in pink beads. "Hello, Caro.” She waved a hand decorated
in multiple pink rings. "Come on in.”
The petite star had her dog tucked under one arm,
and with the other hand she was flipping through what I assumed were the
program notes. The little Chinese Crested was high strung. And, in the sequined
doggie coat and hat, looked more like a well-dressed alien than a canine.
"Did you need something?” I took a deep, calming
breath. No need to bring my own unresolved Geoffrey-tension into the situation.
"I just wanted to know if there was something I
should be doing with Baby. You know, to get her to be okay with this. I can’t
have her nipping at the other celebs or their pooches. I haven’t had a problem
with her lately but this will be a lot of people and a lot of puppy dogs.”
"That’s why I suggested you bring her today. So,
she can get acclimated and once she’s used to the place she won’t be so
nervous.” I’d also thought maybe Shar wouldn’t be so nervous as well. Nervous
owner translates to nervous and unstable dog. But I hadn’t said all that aloud.
"My angel-baby seems a-okay.” She set aside the
notes. "Right, girlie-wirlie?”
I knew from the baby-talk she was addressing the
dog and not me. "Ri—”
"What the hell is this?” A voice screeched from
the dressing room next door.
We all three froze.
"I said, What. The. Hell. Is. This?”
Each word was punctuated with something hitting
the wall. More really bad words followed at the same volume, and Shar sat
mid-sentence—her mouth open, blond curls frozen, her blue eyes wide. Babycakes
began to shake.
"This is not what I asked for. I asked for
pomegranate juice. POM-OH-GRAN-IT! Got it?”
The door opened and then slammed shut, rattling
the sparkly pink beads draped on Shar’s mirror. I opened the dressing room door
and peeked out in time to see Purple, the event’s headliner and biggest star,
stomp down the hallway toward the exit.
"Wait!” A Keith-Urban-look-alike in faded jeans
and spiky blond hair followed her. A roadie maybe? Or one of her musicians or
technical crew?
Purple didn’t turn around, but raised a hand over
her head and made a smoosh of dismissal. "Later.”
"Come on.” The guy slapped his leg with
the paper he held and retreated.
Rufus and his clipboard attempted to intercept
Purple at the end of the hall, but she pushed him aside and continued.
"Wow, and I thought I was high maintenance.” Shar
had come up behind me. She played a bit of a ditz on her TV show, and sometimes
I wasn’t always sure it was acting, but in this case, she was spot on with her
assessment.
"Wow, is right.” I didn’t know who Purple had
been yelling at but whoever it was certainly had not deserved such an abusive
dressing down.
"That’s Diva with a capital D, or I guess P in
this case.” Shar giggled at her joke as she continued to stare down the hall
where Purple had disappeared.
I was thinking a different word entirely, but my
mama raised me better so I didn’t say it aloud.
Purple was an amazing singer, but she was even
more famous for wearing wigs that obscured her face. The wigs varied in style
and color, though mostly a white blond with some sort of bow or hair ornament
and a vivid streak of purple down the right side. They always completely covered
her facial features except for her mouth, thus creating an irresistible air of
mystery.
No doubt about it, the look was very effective
marketing. You couldn’t argue with that. The singing sensation had become much
more than a talented vocalist. The enigma she created with the mystery
surrounding what she really looked like and why she covered her face was the
stuff of legends. She’d topped the charts, filled stadiums, and was a
much-sought-after late-night talk show guest.
And her fans. Well, they were something else.
They bought her music, they followed her from venue to venue, they dressed like
her, they collected Purple t-shirts, Purple dolls, Purple posters, Purple key
chains, and Purple underwear. I swear I am not making that last one up.
Shar and I ducked back into her dressing room.
"How do you think she sees?” Shar tipped her
head.
"I’ve wondered that myself.” I’d been working
with Purple and her dog, Lavender, at the house she’d just purchased in one of
Laguna Beach’s gated communities, and in the half-dozen or so times I’d been
there, I’d never seen her without the wig. It seemed to me that always wearing
a wig would be beyond uncomfortable, but you couldn’t argue with the fame the
image had created.
"Thanks for getting me involved with Barking with
the Stars.” Shar set Babycakes down carefully in her pink puppy stroller.
"I’m glad you were able to do it.” I handed her
the list of tips I was sharing with everyone. "It’s such a great cause.”
"There’s something I need to tell you.” Shar
looked up from the paper, her blue eyes blinking furiously.
"What is it?” Shar and I had some history and her
nervousness could mean a number of things.
"It’s just that I don’t know if you know it, but
there are some online sites with bad reviews about you and your business,” she
said in a rush. "Some of the others were talking about it earlier. No one
believes them, of course, but I thought you should know.”
Geoffrey.
Apparently not content to simply spread lies
about my mental health, he’d also taken advantage of other ways to trash me and
my business. What a jerk.
"Thanks for letting me know.” I unclenched my
fists and concentrated on breathing normally. "I really appreciate it.”
"I don’t know what you can do, but thought you’d
want to know.” She went back to reading through the list.
Once I’d finished up with Shar and Babycakes, I
moved on to my next celebrity check-in. I shared my tip sheet and then spent
some time with Armand and Elizabeth Watts, who’d just had their first child.
I had been working with them for months. Their
little Skye Terrier, Plucky, had initially had some difficulty in dealing with
the idea that he was no longer the center of their world. But they had been
great to work with and things were going well now. Armand, a superhero movie
actor, and Elizabeth, a romcom darling, were the latest Hollywood "It” couple
and the people-watching magazines followed their every move, so lending their
support to Barking with the Stars would add even more press interest in the
event.
As I was leaving their dressing room, I saw Rufus
down the hallway chatting with Diana, and decided to check in. I knew she
understood, but I’d sort of left Diana standing when I walked away from
Geoffrey.
"How do you think things are going?” I asked.
Rufus’s color seemed to have calmed, so I hoped
that was a good indication his blood pressure had returned to normal and that
things were going smoothly.
"Well, our celeb-who-shall-not-be-named has
apparently calmed down.” He tapped his tablet and looked around. "At least for
now.”
"I was going to check out her dressing room next,
but I really wanted to do my assessment with her and the dog present. Maybe
I’ll stop by her place on my way home.” Perhaps I could help in providing some
calm or at least figure out what had her so on edge.
"Oh, she’s not there.” His smile seemed like more
of a grimace. "We’ve put her up in the Starfish Suite here at the hotel.”
"Really?” The woman had just purchased a fabulous
house in Laguna Beach. The drive to the hotel was ten, maybe fifteen, minutes,
tops. "Why would you need to do that?”
"She’s having some remodeling work done on her
house and the noise is, quote, driving her up a wall, unquote.” He made
air-quote hand gestures as he spoke.
"Then it makes it even easier for me to stop by.”
I patted his arm. "Hang in there, Rufus. You’re doing great. Besides, in a week
this will all be over.”
"Thanks, Caro.” He smiled, this time a genuine
smile. "You’re right. Just so many egos in one place. Sometimes I wonder what
we were thinking.”
On my way back to the lobby, I ran in to Mandy,
Purple’s assistant, who was pushing a luggage cart through the courtyard and
toward the westward wing of the complex.
"Can I get someone to help you with that?” I held
the door for her to pass through. "I’m sure the hotel staff would be happy to
assist.” In fact, I was pretty sure they would be appalled that she was doing
it herself.
"No, I’m good.” Mandy was smaller than I was in
stature, but she clearly worked out. She wasn’t having any problem maneuvering
the overloaded cart. "Thanks, though,” she added as an afterthought.
I followed her to the next doorway and held it as
well. "I’d heard you and Purple were setting up here for the duration.”
"Yep, the noise the contractors were making in
doing the demo work was awful.” She stopped in front of the elevator and pushed
the button.
"Listen, I was hoping to check in with Purple and
Lavender.” I realized Mandy, much like Rufus, kept everything running. "Would
now be a good time?”
"I can check.” She pushed the button again. "It’s
been a stressful day.”
I wanted to ask about the earlier incident but it
was really none of my business. "I don’t want to put you in a bad spot, so if
she’s not up to it, that’s fine. I can come back. But it might be a good idea
if I see how Lavender is doing. Especially after a day in all the chaos.” The
elevator had arrived and I held the door for her. "The problems she’s had I
understand have mostly been in hotels when you all were on the road.”
"You’re welcome to try.” Mandy pushed the luggage
rack into the elevator. "Follow me.”
The elevator stopped on the sixth floor and we
got off. Again, I held the door so she could push the cart through. As she
turned it toward the hallway leading to the rooms, one of the boxes shifted and
I reached forward to grab it.
"Holy Guacamole! Don’t run me over.” A voice from
the other side of the cart sounded all too familiar.
"Betty?” I leaned around the cart to see Betty
Foxx, who worked at my cousin Melinda’s pet boutique.
"Carmen, what are you doin’ here?”
Betty never called me by my given name. I’d given
up on figuring out whether it was due to not actually remembering it or if she
was messing with me. Clearly her loyalties lay with my cousin, Melinda, so I
was guessing the latter.
"I could ask the same of you,” she shot back.
Betty, as usual, was dressed in what some might
call satin pajamas but what she’d determined was fashion-forward day wear. This
matched set was a hot pink with big white polka-dots. As always, the look was
finished off with a single strand of pearls and eyebrows painted on with
lipstick.
You heard that right. Lipstick eyebrows. In this
case, neon pink.
On this foible as well, I’d given up on trying to
figure out the logic.
"Well, I got this here bow. Made special for that
big star Purple’s dog.” Betty held aloft what looked like a corsage box. "I
gotta deliver it to her and when I went by the house, the lady there told me
she was living here. Temporarily.”
"I can take that.” Mandy held out her hand.
"No way, Jose’, lady.” Betty shook her gray curls
and held the box out of reach.
"Purple is not seeing anyone right now,” Mandy
said firmly. "She’s resting.”
"Well, it looks like you and Carol are goin’ that
way so I’ll just tag along.” Betty shifted her white patent-leather pocketbook
and crossed her arms. "I’ll hang out until she’s rested and ready to see me.”
"Fine.” Mandy seemed to know she wasn’t going to
win this one. "Follow me.”
When we reached the Starfish Suite, Mandy took
out a key card, swiped it, and opened the door. "You two wait here.” She held
up her hand.
I hated being lumped in with Betty, and the fact
was I was still plenty upset with her and the problems she’d caused my cousin,
Mel, and me over a family brooch. Mel and I had been on the outs for a while
over our Grandma Tillie’s brooch, and just when we were getting close to a
truce, well, let’s just say Betty stepped in and made things worse. And now
neither of us had the brooch.
Mandy motioned us into the room.
Referring to the space as a "room” was a pretty
big understatement. The suite was probably on par with my house in terms of
square footage.
Purple was ensconced in a large royal-blue
high-backed chair. She was draped in a black-and-white satin robe, and her
Lhasa Apso, Lavender, sat on a small settee by her side. Although I’d met with
the pop star many times, I was always disconcerted by being unable to make eye
contact.
Her platinum-blond wig completely obscured the
top half of her face and the usual vivid streak of purple accented the right
side. What I could see of her face was smooth and flawless, her jawline
delicate. Her lips, the deep hue of a classic red rose, were perfect.
In the short time I’d known her it always seemed
to me Purple was forever on stage. Setting the perfect scene. Playing a part.
As a psychologist, I found it fascinating. As a person, I found it concerning.
Mandy had pulled the luggage cart into the room
and had begun taking the boxes off one by one. Her movements were swift and
efficient, like the woman herself. Pick up a box, pull it off, drop it. One
after another.
"Would you like something to drink?” Purple
raised the crystal glass she held, her voice soft and nothing like the strident
tone I’d overheard when I’d been in Shar’s dressing room. "Perhaps some
pomegranate juice? It’s very good for you.” She set the glass down on a small
white satin-draped tray on her lap. More of the staging. "Mandy, would you get
these lovely ladies something to drink?”
"No, thank you,” Betty and I answered at once.
"Please have a seat.” The singing sensation made
a regal gesture in the direction of the couch.
Betty and I sat down side by side on the
blue-and-white striped sofa. I looked over at Betty and her odd outfit and
bizarre hot-pink eyebrows. Somehow it didn’t seem quite as crazy in the
presence of a pop star with a wig covering her most of her face.
"What’s with the wig?” Betty asked, always to the
point. "Can you see outta that?”
"You’ve brought the bow?” Purple ignored her
question and held out her hand. Slim and elegant fingers tipped in a dark
magenta.
Betty scooted forward and handed the box to her.
Purple opened it and held it out for us to see. A
big purple hairbow with tufts of wide gold.
"Perfect.” She stroked the shiny ribbon. "Look,
Mandy. This will be perfect.” She held it high over her head so her assistant
could admire it.
"Very nice.” Mandy had all the boxes unloaded
from the cart and had begun to open them setting the contents on the large,
glass conference table. The boxes appeared to contain awards and other
memorabilia. I wondered why Purple would need those at the hotel. But then, I
wondered about a lot of things in this situation.
"What’s all this?” Betty had moved from the couch
to where Mandy worked. She picked up a trophy that looked a bit like an Oscar
but the figure was a woman whose face was obscured by hair. A Purple, maybe,
instead of an Oscar. "Man, that’s heavy.” She almost dropped it.
"Put that down.” Mandy’s voice was sharp as she
took the statuette from Betty and put it down carefully on the table.
"Fine.” Betty, not to be deterred, moved on to
another item. "Hey, this doll looks just like you. I guess it does anyway.” She
lifted up the doll’s hair to peer at the face. "Why do you cover your face? I
knew a lady once who had a bad accident and she kinda wore her hair over one
side. That what happened to you?”
Again, with a glare Mandy removed the item from
Betty’s hand and placed it on the table.
"Betty.” I gave the little senior a hard stare.
"Not appropriate.”
She shrugged her narrow satin-clothed shoulders
and moved on to another item. "Sorry. Just askin’.”
"What do you think, Caro?” Purple held the bow
out to me. "Would you try it on Lavender, please?”
I took the bow from her and turned it over in my
hand. "Custom-made by Kim’s Designs exclusively for the Bow Wow Boutique,” the
tag said. It was good quality and light enough it shouldn’t be a problem for
the dog.
I bent down and clipped it to Lavender’s top
knot. I stroked her back and she wiggled a little in answer. She didn’t seem to
mind the bow.
"After my parents were killed, my grandfather raised
me.” Purple’s tone was suddenly very serious. "He was a decorated veteran of
World War II and I always wear his Purple Heart close to my heart.” She tugged
on a chain that had been hidden by her robe collar. "That’s why I wanted to do
this event for the vets.”
"I’m sure Warriors for the Paws appreciates your
support.” I was feeling a little softer toward her. "Your involvement will make
such a difference in what they can accomplish.”
Mandy unclipped the ribbon from the dog and
placed it on the desk. "I’ll put this with the rest of her things for the
show.” She went back to unpacking the boxes.
I wondered what it was like having someone as
efficient as Mandy taking care of all the details of your life. There were days
when I needed someone like her.
"What’s this?” I could see Betty inching closer
and closer to Purple but I wasn’t sure what she was up to. She’d picked up a
plastic bag from Mandy’s cart.
"That is medication. Put it down.” Mandy was out
of patience with Betty. I understood. I’d been there myself from time to time.
"I’ll attach my gramp’s Purple Heart lapel pin to
Lavender’s bow,” Purple continued, oblivious to Mandy’s irritation, "and we’ll
both be honoring him when I go on stage for the finale.”
Betty moved back toward the couch but very close
to Purple, and as she did I saw something in her hand, and realized her intent.
The scamp was going for Purple’s wig.
"Betty!” I stepped forward to stop her.
As I did she tripped over my foot.
And ended up face first in Purple’s lap.
Red liquid flew everywhere. Purple’s white wig
was red.
The white on her black-and-white robe was red.
The dog was red.
"What happened?” Betty raised her head, the white
satin drape from the tray Purple had been holding had landed on Betty’s head.
It covered the top of her face, a satin mirror of Purple’s iconic look. She
lifted it up and peeked out. Red juice dripped from her hair, her eyelashes,
her nose.
"Are you okay?” I asked. She didn’t appear to be
injured but I wanted to be sure. "Is everyone all right?”
"What on earth?” Mandy had rushed over.
"I’m so sorry. Mrs. Foxx tripped over my foot.” I
had no idea why I was defending the elderly rabble-rouser. "Purple, are you
okay?”
Mandy picked up the small camera which had flown
out of Betty’s hand and landed on the floor when she tripped.
"Take her and get out.”
