Feline Fatale (3 page)

But it was concern, not only potential costs, that made me double- and triple-check on Lady Cuddles between visits to the rest of the additional Brigadoon units where I tended to other pets on Wanda’s behalf.

I didn’t need to stop in at Wanda’s apartment, though, to care for her pup, Basil, a Cavalier like my Lexie, but of the Blenheim—auburn and white—coloration. Basil was beloved enough to be invited along on the humans’ weekend outing.

I returned to Lady Cuddles’s abode a final time before I left the Brigadoon complex altogether that day. She was still there, thank heavens. And I was doubly blessed by not running into Margaret Shiler or the Bertinettis again before my departure.

In my car, a blue Ford Escape hybrid, I used my hands-free device to call Wanda as I drove away. I hoped I’d just get her voice mail. I wasn’t one for wanting to interrupt a romantic tryst, especially since the male involved was an even dearer friend of mine than the female one.

But Wanda picked up on the second ring. “Hi, Kendra. Everything okay?”

I filled her in on the best parts of my visit to Brigadoon first: how the pets were getting along without her—basically fine.

Then I told her about my run-in with Margaret and her pet-despising buddies. I finished with my concerns about Lady Cuddles. “I did my darnedest to find and close off other possible ways for her to get out, but if you have any suggestions, just let me know and I’ll go back.”

“Oh, Kendra, I’m so sorry you had to deal with all that.” I heard a male mumble somewhere in the background. “Darryl says hi, and thanks, and it’s time to hang up.” Wanda laughed, then grew serious again. “I don’t know what else to tell you about Lady Cuddles’s escape routes. And I really, really appreciate this, Kendra. Please do feel free to call if there’s anything else I should know.” Another mutter from Darryl, and she finished, “As long as it’s really important.”

“Tell Darryl he owes me, too,” I said with a laugh of my own. “Give him a hug for me, and Basil, too.” I ended the call.

I went next to visit a longtime client, Stromboli, who also lived in Burbank. Stromboli was a good-natured shepherd mix, and I always enjoyed sitting for him. I especially liked the fact that he was the next-door neighbor of my good friend Maribelle Openheim and her energetic terrier mix, Meph—short for Mephistopheles. Maribelle and I had become buddies after I’d chided her about leaving Meph neglected in his yard while I watched Stromboli. She’d been going through a difficult time in her life, but she’d pulled through fine and now treated Meph like the pampered family member he should be.

Maribelle wasn’t home this afternoon, though, so I spent a significant amount of time playing with Stromboli after feeding him.

I decided to head next to North Hollywood, not far from Burbank. There, I stopped at a modest house and used a key to get in. I went immediately to the living room and looked into the huge double-sided aquarium that occupied its center.

“Hi, Py,” I crooned to the beautiful ball python that resided inside. Pythagoras was a stunning glossy blue, patterned all over with beautiful magenta swirls. He’d gotten a little larger than when I’d first met him some time ago, but he remained utterly tame.

At least I thought so. I didn’t take him from his tank much now when his owner, Milt Abadim, wasn’t around—although when I’d first cared for him, I had carried him around with me now and then.

Today, I did the standard cleanup and care that Milt liked me to do. Unfortunately, that involved feeding Py a mouse. Fortunately, Py was used to eating frozen rodents that Milt bought in bulk. I defrosted one first, then made certain that the microwaved mouse wasn’t too hot for Py to handle.

I placed it in his habitat, watched Py happily slither toward it, then turned away. I didn’t enjoy watching. But a while later, when I turned back, there was a bulge in Py that hadn’t been there before.

“See you tomorrow,” I told him, then left.

More stops, to see pups who required two visits a day, including a couple at Brigadoon, plus a last check to ensure that Lady Cuddles was where she belonged.

Finally, my pet-sitting ended. Time to go pick up my own adored pup, Lexie, who’d been pampered for the day at Darryl’s place, Doggy Indulgence Day Resort.

 

I LOVE DOGGY Indulgence. It’s even open on weekends, mostly to accommodate customers who work in the entertainment industry, so I’d happily brought Lexie there on this Saturday while I was tending to other pets at their homes.

Even more important, Lexie likes it, too. She plays with other pups there when she wants to, sleeps in the area filled with people furniture when she doesn’t.

She always dashes over, from wherever she is, to greet me.

That day, I walked into the facility filled with pups, interspersed with staff members. I headed for the desk at the front of the mostly open main room, but didn’t see Lexie at first.

I didn’t see her at second, either.

Puzzled, I approached the nearest staff member. Unfortunately, it was Kiki, the employee I liked least. The blue-eyed bombshell was a wannabe actress—who in L.A. isn’t? The good thing about her was that she was great with dogs, gushing over them as if she adored them all.

The bad thing about her was that she was awful with people.

“Hi,” I said, pasting on a perky smile. “Where’s Lexie?”

She shrugged skinny shoulders beneath her lacy shirt. “Oh, I’m sure she’s around somewhere.” Her glance over my shoulder suggested she really didn’t give a damn. Had she stopped caring for her canine charges? If so, why was she still employed?

“Yes, but where?” I asked slowly, as if talking to someone who didn’t understand the language.

“Ask Darryl. Or his dear Wanda. Your friend, isn’t she?” Kiki started to walk away. “It was so nice of you to introduce them.”

“They’re not here,” I reminded her through gritted teeth.

“What a surprise,” she tossed back. “That means we can’t talk to either of them.”

Every muscle within me tensed up. Oh, how I wished Darryl was there!

Of course, if he was there, Kiki wouldn’t dare be this offensive to a client.

I blocked her path. “Let’s find Lexie, right now,” I said as calmly as I could. Inside, I was really worried. It wasn’t like Lexie to ignore me this way.

“Oops,” Kiki said, “I think I’m needed in the kitchen.” She slithered away from me even slicker than Py did, and headed for that part of Doggy Indulgence.

What was that all about?

Speculation about Kiki’s feelings for Darryl suddenly shot through me. Did she have a crush on him? Was his tryst with another woman—whom he had met thanks to me—making Kiki even crazier than usual?

But she hadn’t seemed that attached to him before. She’d even teased me about the ID of Darryl’s new main squeeze when he’d first taken up with Wanda.

Who knew what stick had slid up Kiki’s spine now?

And most important, where was Lexie?

I hurried to one of the other attendants, an older lady named Lila who wore a Doggy Indulgence green knit shirt like the one Darryl usually wore. Her ample curves made it look substantially different from the way it looked on Darryl’s skinny bod. I asked, “Have you seen—?”

“Lexie? Sure, Kendra. She was in the kitchen last time I saw her. And . . . well, I heard that scene with Kiki. She’s . . . well, it’s not my business, but I think she needs a talking-to by Darryl when he gets back. She’s been acting really weird, like her hormones are out of kilter or whatever.”

“Whatever.” I hurried to the kitchen, but it was empty of anyone—dog or person—other than Kiki, who stood staring out the window over the sink. She seemed aware of me when I walked in, and glanced up, giving me a nasty, yet somehow smug, glare.

Did she know where Lexie was?

Had she harmed her?

My panic increased. “Where’s Lexie?” I demanded again.

“Like I said, she’s around somewhere,” Kiki said. “Maybe she interfered with some other dog and got snapped at.” She smiled remotely, barely budging the smoothness of her overly made-up face.

I felt certain that cryptic remark was intended to tell me something, but I had no time to figure out what it meant. I hurried back to the main room. “Lexie!” I shouted.

A few of the other dogs—a Yorkie, a Lab mix, and a pit bull—dashed over as if to let me know of something amiss.

“Where is she?” I asked them.

But none of them answered.

Neither did any of the human attendants.

“Lexie!” I wailed. “Where are you?”

TO MY RELIEF, I heard an answering bark. But from where? I stared all around the pine-patterned linoleum floor from one large playroom zone to the next. No Lexie. I inhaled deeply, as if I could scent her over the usual disinfectant smell. But as much as I adore dogs, I don’t share their acuity of senses.

I called her again, listening carefully for her location.

Sure enough, the smart pup barked back once more. From the direction of Darryl’s office? That seemed odd. I knew he kept it locked when he wasn’t around.

But there were multiple reasons why it might not be locked. He’d forgotten. He’d given someone a key. He’d hidden a key that someone had found.

Or someone with no right to be there had broken in.

At least I no longer felt like following my first instinct, which had ordered me to call the guy most important in my life at the moment—Dante DeFrancisco. The megamillionaire was powerful as well as sexy, but there wasn’t a damned thing he could have done to fix this for me, even if I’d wanted him to.

Except be there for me . . . Only, he was out of town.

“Over there!” Lila pointed unnecessarily in the direction I was heading. I seemed to have turned into the Pied Piper, in fact, since canines and staff members all were following me.

I got to the door of the office that jutted into one side of the playroom and tried it. The knob turned. And as I pushed the door open, Lexie leaped out. She danced on her hind legs as we were finally reunited. I knelt to throw my arms around her and let her lick my face. Other doggies joined us on the floor, and I petted as many as possible, then laughingly stood up.

I glanced at the beaming human faces around us.

“Anyone have any idea how she got in there?” I asked with a smile intended to be disarming and relieved, not accusatory. But no one admitted to knowing anything.

I saw Kiki near the big front desk, greeting an owner who’d come in to retrieve his pet. That was part of her job. But she was definitely not expressing the joy and relief that the other staff members showered over Lexie and me.

When she shot a gaze in our direction, she did smile, at least. Only . . . from that distance, it seemed more snide than joyous.

Had she done this on purpose to make me squirm, in retaliation for whatever harm I’d allegedly done her by bringing Darryl and Wanda together? Or had she just snapped altogether?

Just in case, I’d have to watch out for Kiki.

 

A LITTLE WHILE later, Lexie and I were in my Escape, heading home. I had her blocked in the backseat for her safety, but I glanced often into the rearview mirror, reassuring myself that she was there and okay.

It hadn’t really been a big deal, after all. All along, Lexie had been where she was supposed to be—kinda. But I still felt utterly frazzled.

“I don’t suppose you’d explain, in Barklish, exactly how you wound up in the office, would you?” I asked when we stopped at a red light. “Like, who opened the door, why you headed in there, and who shut you inside?”

My Cavalier just sat there looking cute, keeping it all to herself.

“Was it Kiki, on purpose, with a key she’d stolen somehow?” I sounded as if I was playing a game of Clue.

Still no response from Lexie, so I gave up.

We soon headed up the narrow, twisty road in the Hollywood Hills that led to the lovely mini chateau I’d bought several years back when I was a high-paid associate at a major law firm. I adore that place.

Lexie and I live in the apartment over the garage. I’d been renting out the main house for a while, ever since I lost my lucrative job because of being unjustly accused of an ethics violation. I’d cleared myself, but by then I was supporting Lexie and me by pet-sitting. And once I got my law license back, I kept up my new career and also became a partner at a small elder-law firm started by another escapee from my former employer, a senior attorney named Borden Yurick. I brought in some pet-law cases of my own, too. But I didn’t make as much money.

Even so, I loved what I did now—most of it. Because my friends, acquaintances, and I have the unfortunate habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, I’d also found myself in the middle of a lot of murder investigations, sometimes as the accused. And it seemed like an inordinate number of people I knew also became suspects in murders. Having been there myself once—twice, actually—I invariably assisted them. Even Dante, whom I’d recently helped to clear from a nasty situation that had partly resulted from his secret past . . .

But being a murder magnet wasn’t an avocation I’d chosen. If it never happened again, I’d be more than happy.

I stopped the Escape at the gate in the wrought-iron fence enclosing my property and pushed the button on the visor that opened it. As I drove in, I saw my tenant, Russ Preesinger, on the walkway that crossed the wellmowed lawn between the main house and the driveway. With him was his sweet Irish setter, Beggar—short for Begorrah.

Russ’s daughter, Rachel, is my employee and assistant at Critter TLC, LLC. She is also a hostess on
Animal Auditions
, a TV reality show I’d helped to create, which was produced by Dante. It was between seasons now, though the next one was well into its planning stage.

At this moment, Rachel was on rounds visiting the Critter TLC, LLC, clients that I’d assigned to her for the day.