“Okay…” I lean to capture her attention again, but she keeps her gaze firmly on my husband, appraising. “But have you seen her?”
“It’s hard to see much of anything of help here with those new trees going up between our yards,” she says, and I roll my eyes. Betty reaches for his arm again. “How haveyoubeen, dear? I hear you were injured. Though I was under the impression you were sick.” She glances pointedly in my direction.
Luca nods and touches his thigh. “All better now.”
“I’m so glad to hear it.” She gives him one last squeeze and then turns her pruney expression back to me. “I’m sorry to say, no, I haven’t seen your pet.”
“Have you seen anyone around the neighborhood that you didn’t recognize?” I ask. “Someone who might have taken her?”
She chortles. “You think it was dognapped? It didn’t appear to be purebred.”
“She,” I say defensively, “is a very smart, very good—”
“We’re just trying to cover all the bases,” Luca cuts in gently, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me closer.
Betty tracks the movement, her mouth pursing with disapproval. “Yes, I have seen a few unfamiliar cars on the street lately,” she says. “And of course, your shirtless friend took your work truck.” She says this last part while looking at Luca, as if gauging whether this will surprise him.
“Because I couldn’t use it for a few days. He took it so it wouldn’t be in the driveway, bothering you.”
“You’renever a bother,” Betty says warmly, her emphasis clear.
“What did the unfamiliar cars look like?” I ask.
“Well, let’s see.” Betty turns to reach for something just inside the door and then produces a well-worn notebook. Obviously, I’ve never been inside her house, and I try to catch a glimpse before she very pointedly pulls the door closed again. She flips through several pages full of tidy handwriting. “There was a red sports car… that one was quite loud. I think it belonged to a friend of Daniel Grandin, and why anyone would buy a teenager a car like that is beyond me.”
“Great. Any other cars…?” Luca gently prompts.
“Let’s see. A few delivery trucks that parked on the street for longer than the approved time… A blue SUV. A black pickup truck. A white sedan—”
“White? With a strand of wood beads or something on the mirror?” Luca asks.
Betty looks at her notes. “Why, yes.”
“I saw that one, too,” he says. “Was a man driving?”
“Yes,” Betty says.
I reach for his forearm. “When was this?”
“On my walk,” he says. “I forgot to tell you because when I got home the police were there.”
I give Betty my own pointed look. Two can play at this game. “Right.”
She ignores me and continues to have a conversation only with Luca. “I’ve seen it two or three times in the past week.”
“I spoke to the man in the car,” Luca says. “He said he was considering buying in the neighborhood.”
“Well, good luck to him,” Betty scoffs. And when Luca doesn’t return the derisive response, she prompts, “Don’t you remember our conversation a couple of weeks ago?”
His smile turns tight. “Which one was that?”
“About there not being a single house for sale in Rancho Amaro?”
“Oh, yes, that, of course.” Luca nods, too quickly. My husband could never do my job; he’s a terrible liar. “Well, maybe he’s hoping one will open up.”
“Not with interest rates being what they are. No one is moving.” Betty sniffs, looking down the street. “Though I wouldn’t mind a few folks finding somewhere they like better.”
Luca smiles warmly at her, deftly avoiding this. “Thank you for your help, Mrs. Campbell. I’ll let you know if we need anything else.”
