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Authors: Linda O. Johnston

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BOOK: Fine-Feathered Death
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“It’s about time you showed up,” I shouted shakily to Detective Ned Noralles and his temporary partner of this night, Private Investigator Jeff Hubbard.
Chapter Twenty-nine
I WAS WIRED, of course, and I’d worn a bulky protective vest beneath my big sweater.
I’d had to practically tap dance to convince Detective Noralles to participate in what he called my latest “hare-brained scheme.” But he knew that, as a pet-sitter, I revered all species of domestic animals and therefore didn’t mind—much—being compared with a hare. I had, after all, tended bunnies near the beginning of my pet business.
He’d at least listened to me as I’d laid out my suspicions, and much as he hated to admit it, he saw where they’d started from and couldn’t completely discount them.
Ned had always acted fair to me—except when he’d considered me his main murder suspect—so even though, if I turned out to be right, he’d lose his big chance at avenging himself on Jeff for besting him way back when in L.A.P.D. history, Ned went along with me.
Jeff, too. He was harder to convince, since he asserted how much he abhorred the idea of my putting myself in so much danger. But with the borrowed vest and firearm, I’d felt pretty much protected.
Now, after Polly had been Mirandized and taken into custody by a couple of local L.A.P.D. detectives, including Candace Schwinglan, the three of us sat in the same booth where I’d been with Polly. Despite how late the night was now, Ned wore his typical suit. He didn’t appear particularly uncomfortable in it. In fact, I’d come to think of suits as part of this dynamic detective’s persona.
Jeff, on the other hand, had shown up in snug jeans and a denim jacket in a different shade of blue. He looked damnably luscious in them. Too bad we weren’t talking to one another.
“So you figured it was Ms. Bright how?” Ned demanded. I’d given him only pieces of the puzzle when I’d phoned and pleaded for his participation tonight.
“It was last week, when I met with Bella Quevedo-Jetts. Bella liked Ezra, even though she admitted he took great enjoyment out of threatening people, particularly regarding their livelihoods. Of course, Bella said that those who knew Ezra well knew better than to take him seriously.”
“But why Polly Bright?”
“Weren’t you listening to this?” I gestured toward the gadget they’d stuck on me to record the conversation.
He nodded.
“Well, then, you know. Bella mentioned how much Polly prided herself on being considered an expert. Polly didn’t know Ezra well. And I don’t know how thickly Ezra laid on his threats, but even I heard him threaten Polly’s future. She’d been around this office enough to get to know the players here, including some of our occasional visitors, like Jeff. Jeff started to get nosy when his own nose was on the line as a possible suspect, so to get him off her case, Polly decided he was the perfect person for her to frame. She stole Elaine’s keys one night and had them copied. And who better than a parrot person to train a macaw to make an unusual sound?”
“Damn,” Ned said. “We interviewed her, of course, but she appeared to lack motive and opportunity. And the means, guns—who’d have thought this crazy civilian would have a collection?” He ran his fingers through his short, dark hair, and stared at me, then smiled. “Hey, counselor. And Ms. Pet-Sitter. Care to take on a third career as an L.A.P.D. detective?”
I laughed, knowing full well he wasn’t serious. Was he? “I’m busy enough with two, but thanks, Ned.”
“Thank you, Kendra.” He stood. “Only, since you refused my offer, how about staying away from murders from now on?”
“Amen,” I answered fervently . . . while I wondered whether I meant it.
When he was gone, I was left in that same booth with Jeff. He reached across and took my hands in his, and it felt too damned good. I let mine rest there for a few moments, then gently pulled them away.
“Thanks aren’t adequate, Kendra, for all you did. But . . . thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” I sensed wetness welling up in my eyesockets and scowled. “So now that I don’t have to feel sorry for you anymore, I think it’s time we made it official. Goodbye, Jeff. Have a good life—you and Amanda.”
And with that, I stood and stalked off, figuring he could find his own way out.
 
LEXIE WAS NATURALLY waiting for me in our apartment. She seemed sleepy but pleased to see me. Not frantic, so I figured Rachel had done a good job tending her this evening.
“It’s over, girl,” I told her. If she’d spoken English, I knew she’d ask
what
was over, so I explained the whole murder scenario, with Jeff as suspect. “And now that I’ve cleared him, I figured I didn’t need all the confusion in my life. I’m still a mess about picking men,” I ended with a sigh.
Lexie wasn’t in my life when I’d made the miserable mistake of sleeping with Bill Sergement at my old law firm. I’d hoped I’d made a better choice when I’d fallen—hard—for Jeff Hubbard, but now I knew the sad truth about that sexy fiasco, too.
“Who needs a relationship anyway?” I asked Lexie when I was in bed and she’d nested at my feet. “I’ll settle for some good, no-strings sex again one of these days, and that’ll be enough.”
Or it would be when I finally erased Jeff from my system.
 
THE NEXT MORNING was Wednesday. I knocked on the door to my main house, and Rachel responded, ready to go pet-sitting at my side. I brought Lexie along, and after we’d visited and cared for all of my charges, I dropped Rachel back at home.
“My dad’s here,” she said. “Why don’t you join us for dinner tonight?”
“Okay,” I said, only slightly reluctant. I liked Russ. Maybe I’d target him for that no-strings sex one of these days.
The Yurick firm was abuzz with rumors about last night’s arrest of Polly Bright. It had hit the news, too, but fortunately my role in it hadn’t been found out by the media vultures. At least not yet.
But Corrie’s body would soon be released for burial. Unlike with Ezra, we’d all be given the chance to say goodbye. Whether or not she’d become a blackmailer by opportunism, she hadn’t deserved to die.
“You’re okay, Kendra?” Borden demanded.
“I sure am. And I owe an awful lot to Gigi.”
That beautiful macaw was back in Elaine’s office. I told her what a brave bird she had, and the older attorney smiled. “I think she’s settling down now, don’t you? I’ll try taking her for rides soon, and then I’ll see how she does at my home.”
“As long as you bring her here often for visits. She’s part of the firm family now.” I approached Gigi and grinned. “Gorgeous girl,” I said.
Which was when Gigi started shrieking her new noise: the siren that I’d taught her by repeatedly playing the sound of a toy police car to her at night.
Elaine covered her ears. “Thanks a lot, Kendra,” she said with a laugh.
“Any time,” I replied and escaped from her echoing office.
In my own, I found a message from Brian O’Barlen. “You did it!” he exclaimed.
“Well, it wasn’t just me, but the police—”
“What do the police have to do with it?”
That got me realizing that our ramblings were on different topics. He wasn’t calling to congratulate me on my part in Polly’s arrest.
“Let’s start over,” I suggested. “What did you call about?”
It turned out that the T.O.-VORPO discussions I’d suggested had come to pass and had turned out better than either side had envisioned. They’d come to an agreement about how dense the density would be, how beautiful and abundant the buildings would be, nearly everything. And all pieces of property would be part of the development.
“So no more legal fees on this one,” he said with a self-satisfied chortle.
“Well, a lot fewer,” I agreed. “You still need to have the settlement agreement written to memorialize your accord. That way both sides can review it in black and white to ensure they’ve got a true meeting of the minds.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said snappishly. “Go ahead and deal with the details.”
“Sure will,” I said. I called Michael Kleer. “Have you heard?”
“On the news?” he said. “Oh, yeah. You’re one brave lady, Kendra.”
He sounded admiring, but I didn’t want to take time to preen. “No, I mean about the T.O.-VORPO accord.”
“No. Really? They’ve reached a settlement?”
“Sounds that way. Go ahead and check with your client. Oh, and is it okay with you if I call Millie Franzel? I won’t push her, of course, but I’m eager to find out if she’s been included and voluntarily agreed to sell her site.”
“Go ahead,” he said, and I did.
“Oh, it’s wonderful, Kendra,” Millie said when I had her on the phone. “I’ll be provided a temporary, rent-subsidized shop across the street in one of the empty stores. Then, when the project is built out, I’ll lease another, prettier store at a low rent for years. Plus, I’ll live in one of the penthouse apartments—also at a low rent. I’m so pleased. Thank you. Come to my shop, and I’ll give you a special treat for Lexie.”
I beamed as I hung up. There was even a pet-happy ending in my non-pet law litigation matter. And I’d helped to end Polly Bright’s reign of macaw-involved mayhem. I rocked!
 
MY DINNER THAT night with Russ and Rachel went well. Rachel’s dad had bought her a new, used car that day, so my pet-sitter protégée now had wheels.
“I’ve got an audition for a small role in a play tomorrow, Kendra,” Rachel said with an overjoyed glow in her big brown eyes. “But whether or not I get the role, can I do some pet-sitting for you on my own? I mean, now that I’ll be able to drive, I can do all the work for some of your customers. And you’ll be able to take on more, if you’d like.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I replied with a smile. I swiveled my head so that smile landed smack on her dad. “Thanks, Dad,” I told him.
“I had a method to my madness,” he said. “If I can free up some more of your time, maybe you and I can go out for dinner ourselves now and then. Take in a movie.”
“Or Rachel’s play,” I said, which made Rachel’s wide grin grow even greater. Where was the pout that had defined her face when I’d first met her?
I was definitely delighted that it had disappeared.
And I purposely left the response to Russ’s question hanging.
Question: Why was it I couldn’t get as excited about this nice, slightly older, and absolutely attractive man as I did about Jeff?
Answer: Because I’m a perpetual flop in the select-the-right-man-for-a-relationship department.
Question: Would that ever change?
Answer: Damned if I knew.
While Lexie and I climbed the stairs to our apartment at about 7 P.M., my cell phone rang. I noted the number.
Jeff.
I thought about letting it tumble into voice mail. Hadn’t he gotten
my
message, when I’d handed it to him face to face? Or at least face to back. Like, we’re history, Hubbard.
Well, obtuseness wasn’t this P.I.’s middle name, but obstinacy might be. I decided to answer.
“Kendra? Could you come over here? I’m going out of town on an emergency assignment and I’ll need for you to take care of Odin, okay?”
“Now? Tonight?”
“You know I prefer your staying here when you pet-sit Odin. And I always pay you extra for it.”
I considered saying no. But hey, I liked Odin. If I kept on pet-sitting for him, I could ensure everything stayed on a strictly professional basis.
I hoped.
I PACKED AN overnight bag and Lexie’s breakfast, then we were on our way.
We were soon on the flat Sherman Oaks street where Jeff lived. I didn’t park behind his Escalade but would pull my Beamer into the driveway once he’d departed.
I rang the bell and heard Odin’s responsive bark. That set Lexie prancing.
The door opened, and there stood Jeff. Looking every bit as good as last night.
“Thanks for coming, Kendra.” He motioned me to come in.
Which was when I saw Amanda sitting in Jeff’s sunken living room, looking as much like a slender, gorgeous fashion model as she ever had—not that I’d been informed of what the bleached blonde’s genuine career was these days. She was clad in a sexy form-fitting sweater and equally tight slacks—and looked about as thrilled to see me as I was to see her.
Somehow, I must have missed her red car outside.
“What’s going on, Jeff?” I demanded. “I thought you wanted me to stay overnight with Odin.”
“And me,” he said aloud—loud enough for Amanda to hear it.
She rose rapidly and hurried toward us.
Jeff turned toward her. “I wanted to make things clear to Kendra, Amanda. You and I are history. Our only relationship lately has been as customer and security consultant.”
“Right,” I said. “Like on those nights when she provided you an alibi.”
“Tell her the truth, Amanda. When was the last time you and I slept together?”
“None of her damned business,” Jeff’s ex spat from behind a sneer.
“I wanted to give you this right in front of Kendra.” Jeff reached into his pocket, then handed her what appeared to be a business card. “This is the contact information for a friend of mine who’s also in the security business. I’ve told him to expect your call and explained about your stalker. He’ll give you a discount on his fees, as a professional courtesy to me. But from now on, you talk to him, not me, if you need protection. Got it?”
She didn’t reply—verbally. But talk about vicious looks. And hers was aimed solely at little old me. She turned her back and without another word stalked from the house.
I smiled inside as I watched through Jeff’s front window to be certain she drove off. Sure enough, her car had been parked several doors down.
And then I hazarded a glance at Jeff.
His look was absolutely lustful.
“Er . . . I think Lexie and Odin need a walk,” I stammered uneasily, even as my own hormones started hustling up heat from way inside. “Care to come along?”
BOOK: Fine-Feathered Death
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