One of Laguna Beach s best-known plastic surgeons may need a new leash on life. Unless he s just taking a very long nap on the bench outside Melinda Langston s Bow Wow Boutique . . .

Dr. O Doggle continued to give us the silent treatment. Fluffy eyed him intently. I studied him too. Tova Randall wasn t my BFF, to say the least, but I didn t wish her boyfriend any bad luck.

My neighbor, Darby, relaxed her grip on Fluffy s leash. The big Afghan lunged toward Dr. O and knocked him over.

Tova s handsome hunk rolled off the bench and dropped with a thud at our feet.

Darby gasped. My stomach knotted. "No, no, no." I shook my head. "Not again."

I knelt down and shook his shoulders. "Dr. O Doggle?" I grabbed his suit lapels and yelled, "Jack?"

No response. No, "I m fine." No, "Stop yelling in my face." No, "Get your hands off me."

No, no, no.

I checked his throat for a pulse. Nothing. But he was still warm. My fingers brushed against something knotted around his throat, and I m not talking about his tie. I pulled back his shirt for a better look. I sucked in a breath, my nose filled with a light female perfume I didn t recognize. A thin dog leash was wound tightly around his neck. Identical to the kind I sold at the shop.

This was not an accident.

"Is he . . .?" Darby asked softly.

I looked up at her. "Dead. No more late night walks for him."