The Girl With the Dachshund Tattoo by Sparkle Abbey

about the missing gun? Would the girl with the dachshund tattoo come back? And if she did, would she have Betty’s gun?
    I heard my cell phone ring. It had to be Betty. I rushed to the couch where I’d left my bag. I managed to pull out my cell as the ringing stopped. Dang. Within seconds, a notification popped up that I’d missed a call from my mama.
    I gripped the phone tighter. She never called to chat. I loved the woman, but she was a drama queen with an agenda. And usually the agenda was about what she wanted. The woman had a knack for finding a way to make any situation or circumstance, whether good or bad, about her. It was a true talent.
    My cell chirped again. She wasn’t giving up easily. I took a fortifying breath before I answered. “Hey, Mama. I was just thinking about you.”
    Her soft Texas sigh settled in my ear. “If that’s true, Melinda Sue, tell me—why did I have to hear from your brother that you and Grey were talking about a wedding date? Why do you hate me?”
    I rolled my eyes. “I don’t hate you, Mama. By the way, I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”
    She paused, then inquired in a polite, but overly sweet voice, “How are you, darling? How’s Grey?”
    “I’m fine. Grey’s fine. How are you and Daddy?” I continued the charade. If my tone were any sweeter, I’d give myself a cavity.
    “I’m busy as ever. Your daddy keeps to himself. Locked away in his office, planning who knows what without me. If you’re considering a fall wedding I need to know. The country club books years in advance. Although, if that’s what you really want, I can call in a few favors. Lord knows I’ve bailed out that Lydia Marshall more than a handful of times. Her society contacts are rather lackluster. She owes me.”
    I returned to the kitchen for my wine. I’d need more than one glass for this chat. Membership at the Dallas Country Club was a long-standing tradition in the Montgomery family. One joined by invitation only, and to my knowledge, there hadn’t been a Montgomery yet that hadn’t been invited. It was the last place I’d choose to get married. I’d left that life behind and could honestly say I didn’t miss it. Not one iota.
    I drank deeply before replying. “I don’t know what Mitch told you, but Grey and I have not set a date.” Heck, at this point, we couldn’t even be in the same room without arguing. Not that I’d admit that to her.
    “Melinda, you listen to me, sugar. You must get a ring on his finger before you do something stupid. You know how you are. You’re a lucky girl, Grey seems enamored by your impulsiveness.”
    I guzzled the last of the wine in my glass, then refilled—to the rim. “Thanks for the support, Mama.”
    “Support is what you get from your friends. Truth is what you get from me. Now, when are you two picking a date? And do not even think of robbing me of a wedding. My heart couldn’t take another elopement. I can’t believe your brother was so selfish.”
    I dropped to a bar stool and pretended to listen as she continued to prattle on about Mitch and his bride’s, Nikki, disregard for tradition. I liked to call this, “Confessions of a Drama Queen.”
    I smiled wryly. Thank the good Lord, Mama didn’t know how to Skype.
    I FINALLY GOT THE hot shower I’d been daydreaming about. It was exactly what I needed to wash away depressing thoughts of Grey, my crazy mother, and worrying about Betty, who, for the record, I still hadn’t heard from. I’d left her three messages to call me. Nothing. I had to believe that no news was good news.
    I pulled on my favorite pair of yoga pants and an oversized T-shirt that read, “Don’t judge the dogs.” I grabbed a large glass of water, then sank onto the couch. Missy was still in her bed where I’d left her hours ago.
    It was time for the news, and I was curious if MacAvoy had filed a report. I flipped on the TV in time to see his face pop up on the screen. Damn him. He looked refreshed and polished. He