Free Get Fluffy by Sparkle Abbey

We’re here to see Darby.”
    Missy twirled in a half circle, changing directions. Fluffy on the other hand, fixed her eyes on the Bow Wow door and barreled her way past me and toward her target.
    I stopped so abruptly my purse slid down my arm and hung on the leash, halting Fluffy in her stubborn tracks. I swore under my breath.
    “Listen. We have got to come to an agreement,” I demanded.
    Her Highness turned in my direction. A wisp of fur fell into her eyes. She flipped it back with the shake of her head. Doggie language for “I’m not listening to you.”
    “Google alert, Fluffy. It’s not all about you anymore.” By the time my dog-sitting stint was over, I’d have an ulcer.
    Missy sat on the sidewalk, her tongue hanging out. If she could talk I’m sure she’d want to know why we were just standing there. My little Miss Congeniality. I loved her more than an A-list celeb loved their Hermes Birkin bag.
    “Let’s go.” I headed toward Paw Prints, and the dogs followed—one happy-go-lucky, the other as pretentious as a bed-hopping politician.
    We strolled inside the studio. “Guess who?” I called out.
    Paw Prints was as unique as its owner. The studio was an unfinished high-end warehouse. Except for the lobby. It was straight out of the Victorian era, including a silver antique tea set on a side table.
    The working portion of the studio was wide open with a variety of adorable and goofy pet portraits hanging on the walls, props stored on metal shelves, and a handful of lights and umbrellas.
    Darby, in her bohemian wrap skirt and white, lacy sleeveless top, dragged a second Adirondack chair to her staging area.
    “Hi,” she said as she turned around. Her white beret slipped off her head. She caught it one-handed. “Ah, you have Fluffy.”
    “It’s my curse.” I unhooked the dogs and dropped the leashes on the front desk.
    Missy bumbled over to the box of toys Darby kept for her clients. She rummaged around and pulled out a rubber chicken and immediately demonstrated she was the alpha dog.
    Fluffy, on the other hand, sniffed the velvet covered couches in the lobby, not entirely sure of where I’d taken her, and if she was staying.
    “I thought you dropped her off last night.” Darby pulled down a swimming pool backdrop, which set off her scene perfectly. All it needed was a couple of umbrella drinks.
    “I tried.”
    “So she stayed with you?” Darby asked, with a small disbelieving chuckle.
    “Yeah.” I fumbled for what to say next. “Who’s coming?” I pointed toward her set-up, eager to change the subject while I searched for the right way to break the news about Mona.
    “Mandy Beenerman’s bringing in her Lhasa Apso.”
    I shook my head. “I can’t place her, but her name sounds really familiar.”
    “She owns the fitness company, Mandy’s Place.” Darby continued to arrange and rearrange props as she talked. “Apparently Nietzsche has agoraphobia. Since your cousin has taken them on as clients, he’s gotten better, and this is his reward.”
    “You’ve talked to Caro?”
    Darby stood back and studied her masterpiece. “No. Mandy. But Caro did recommend me. I need to call and thank her. Unless you want to?” She grinned at me over her shoulder.
    “You’re such a comedian.”
    “So what’s going on?” she asked.
    I walked over to one of the chairs she’d just positioned to picture perfection and sat, dropping my purse between my feet. “I’m taking the day off.”
    She swiveled in my direction. “Why?”
    Sometimes the direct approach was best. “Mona’s dead.”
    Eyes wide open, Darby looked horrified. “What do you mean, dead?”
    “Like someone whacked with her Fluffy’s Emmy. Gone. Dead.”
    She tripped over the light stand making her way to me. “She’s been murdered? Are you sure?”
    “Trust me, she’s dead. I’ve seen her.” I shuddered, remembering Mona’s awkward pose.
    Darby shook her head, obviously confused. “When?” her voice cracked. I