Hounds Abound (16 page)

“Fine,” she said, not surprisingly since she had requested my help to do just that.

But I wanted to catch her a little off guard. “First, though, tell me all about Dr. Victor Drammon.”

Mistake. Though the light had changed and she had started moving ahead with the flow of traffic, she slammed on the brakes. Fortunately, no one had been tailgating us, so we merely stopped just beyond the intersection.

She slowly pressed on the gas again. Without looking at me, she asked, “Why do you want to know about him? He’s not who you’re looking for.”

“You don’t consider him a suspect in Miles’s murder? Okay—maybe. But I saw that there was something between you, even though you didn’t talk to him much. He obviously wanted to talk to you, and you shunned him. I already know that he was the first vet you considered for Save’Em before he started saying nasty things about the shelter on TV. So tell me about him.”

“And if I tell you that isn’t your business?”

She might be right. There appeared to be something personal between them, and I didn’t need to know about it. Except that he could be a factor in hurting innocent animals despite being a veterinarian, and I couldn’t rule him out completely as a suspect in Miles’s murder.

“It is my business because you asked me to look at every angle to help find out who killed Miles,” I contradicted her. “And my life revolves around saving pets’ lives, and that vet might be intentionally killing them—or at least discouraging people from trying to allow them to live out their lives as long as reasonably possible.”

Her shoulders drooped beneath her black designer dress. “That’s exactly the problem.” Her voice was so low that I had to strain to hear it over the outside ambient noise of rushing air and traffic. “I’d thought—well, all right. Here it is.” She pursed her lips as if considering what to say, then continued. “Vic and his ex-wife were good friends of Miles’s and mine for years. In fact, Vic’s veterinary clinic is just outside Beverly Hills, not far from Miles’s offices. We all got together for dinner now and then, that kind of thing. He divorced first but remained friends with Miles and me. And when things really started getting terrible with Miles …”

Though she let her voice trail off, I guessed what she was thinking. “He was there for you. Tried to help you through it.”

“Exactly.” We were stopped at a traffic light near a turn onto a freeway on-ramp, and she looked at me. Her lovely features looked both pained and sheepish. “We never talked about the future, of course, but when I finally made the decision and left Miles, I thought Vic would still be
there for me. The one thing we had talked about was how to help special-needs pets, and I had assumed that, when I started Save Them All Sanctuary, he would be our veterinarian for the long haul. I don’t know why he changed his mind about helping the old and infirm. And when he made his opinion so public … well, it really hurt.”

“I see.”

“He sided with Miles about Save’Em. Became his good friend again instead of mine. But that’s behind me. I don’t want to talk to him ever again, and I can’t wait till Carlie’s episode on how wonderful things are at Save’Em airs. That will show him. Now, let’s discuss some of the others. I don’t know who might have killed Miles, but we can brainstorm a bit.”

“Fine.” I had another question for her first, though. “Do you know the Traymores, the people Dr. Renteen mentioned?”

We were now cruising along the 405 Freeway, headed north. Her brow wrinkled slightly, as though she was thinking. “No, I’m afraid not. But let me know if you find anything out about them, will you?”

I agreed.

For the rest of the ride, we did a kind of debriefing, where we discussed the people Miles had worked with, and the likelihood of the guilt of each one of them in his death.

“I kind of like his assistant Keara for it,” I said, not necessarily believing it but wondering how Bella felt about the young lady who’d obviously had a crush on her boss.

Bella didn’t immediately dismiss the idea, which interested me. “Maybe,” she said pensively. “She comes across as such a sweet young thing, doesn’t she? But before Miles
and I split, there were times that she just seemed to drip honey all over me yet somehow be critical all the same. I neither liked nor trusted her. But as a killer … well, don’t cross her off the list just yet.”

“I won’t.”

One by one we dissected the others, too. I likened Dr. Serena Santoval to a conniving witch. So far, she was my favorite suspect. Keara or not, I believed that Serena had considered herself Miles’s next main squeeze once Bella was no longer his wife. Had he agreed? If not, would rejecting her have made her angry enough to kill him?

But Dr. Abe Renteen was a close second. He’d been outspoken about despising the negative publicity Miles’s divorce fight had engendered for their medical practice. Had he thought that getting rid of Miles would somehow improve their reputation?

There were a couple of other doctors we examined, too—including the newest guy in the practice, that Dr. Pass Pearson. Bella hadn’t known him before she separated from Miles, so she had no idea if there’d been any animosity between them.

Then there was Kip Schaley. He was so enamored of Bella that he might have wanted to help her by getting rid of her argumentative ex. That might be why he didn’t want me to try to find the killer. I didn’t mention him to Bella, though. I felt that, even though she’d recognized he might have done something rash to help her, she’d have defended him now.

We had already turned west on the 118 Freeway and were getting close to the exit she would take to get me back to HotRescues. “One last thing,” I said. “And this could be the most telling information of all. We touched on it before.
Who might inherit from Miles on his death, now that you were divorced—those relatives at the service today?”

“Quite possibly,” Bella said, her tone once again pensive. She made a turn onto the Hayvenhurst exit. “Miles’s parents are from New England and still live there, too infirm to travel, unlike his brothers. Some or all of them are definitely his most likely heirs—but of course I don’t know whether he drew up a will that left money to them or to someone else. I may be able to find out who inherited from him when I talk to my divorce lawyer. He’ll need to figure out who it is and whether they’re going to argue the same way about our marital money and property as Miles did.”

“Good thing to know,” I agreed.

Yes, I was curious about the Traymores and why Dr. Abe Renteen had tried to sic me on them as the possible murderers.

But, no, I didn’t try looking them up that late afternoon. Our trainer, Gavin Mamo, was at HotRescues for a special session with a few of our dogs who needed a refresher on how to act at least somewhat obediently—and therefore become more adoptable.

We always had Gavin do a private session or two with our newest canine residents when they first came out of quarantine. He also worked with our staff and the volunteers who helped to socialize dogs, to at least attempt to reinforce that training.

Since it was Saturday, a lot of our help was around, and I’d put out an edict that as many as possible were to be there to participate in Gavin’s session.

He had set things up in the center court in the new part of HotRescues, between rows of kennels. Mostly medium and larger dogs were housed in that area, and each had been taken out of their enclosure and tethered on a sturdy leash. Volunteers and staff members had been directed to hold the leashes so no dog could get more than a couple of feet away.

So many of our volunteers were present that I had to smile. Even our most senior, Bev and Mamie, were participating. The dogs they’d been assigned to were not among the most rambunctious, but the training refresher would do them as much good as the younger folks like Ricki, the future veterinary tech; Sally, who volunteered at HotRescues only on weekends; and Margie Tarbet, who was there with her son Davie, a teen who’d needed some training to lasso in his keen interest in pet rescue.

Participating staff members included Pete and Nina. And me, of course. Dr. Mona wasn’t there, but she didn’t usually work directly with the animals. And although our new groomer, Margo, was around, she didn’t get involved with training, either.

I had put Zoey in the office, but she knew all this stuff and did it well. I didn’t need for her to get better trained. But other dogs around here definitely needed it.

I had Dodi on a leash—an adorable sheltie mix who had been at HotRescues longer than almost any other resident. I needed to make sure she was trained well enough to find a new home, although I doubted her behavior was a factor in no one having yet chosen her. Sometimes, people and pets just have to jell, and the right combo hadn’t yet worked out for poor Dodi.

“Okay, now, everyone listen up,” called Gavin. He was a large guy and liked to flaunt his Hawaiian extraction by wearing colorful muumuu shirts. Today’s was bright green with magenta flowers. “We’ll just go through the basics today. First, we’ll walk in a circle, and I want you to give the command ‘heel.’ You’ll make sure your dog obeys by how closely you hold the leash and how often you reward them with a treat. Then we’ll go through ‘sit,’ ‘down,’ and ‘stay.’ Everyone ready?”

For the next ten minutes, that was exactly what we did. Dodi obeyed perfectly. Most other dogs did, too, although we had a few who tried to assert their canine pack alpha-ness over the people holding them. Even they became highly obedient, though, in exchange for treats.

When we were finished, I bent down and hugged Dodi. “You need your forever home soon, girl,” I said. She panted her agreement.

I congratulated my staff and volunteers, then shook hands with Gavin. “Thanks,” I told him. “On behalf of all of us, most especially our residents.”

His toothy grin split his round face as he embraced me in a hug. “Why so formal, boss lady? You know what to tell me.”

Actually, I did. “Gavin, you rock!”

The pups were back in their kennels, most exhausted enough to nestle right down on the wonderful bedding from HotPets. The human gang had dispersed, almost all leaving HotRescues for the night.

I was still here, though. Zoey, too. My sweet pup hadn’t
complained about being locked in the office by herself for nearly an hour, so I’d taken her for a walk outside our grounds in the pleasant commercial neighborhood. She now lay by my feet as I worked on the computer.

My door was partly open and I was startled when someone knocked on it. I looked up. Brooke stood there, Cheyenne at her side. Zoey rose, and the two dogs exchanged nose sniffs.

“Hey, I ran into Nina as she was leaving,” Brooke said. “She told me about the good training session Gavin led. Wish I’d been here.”

“You’d have had to arrive for work early,” I reminded her. “I’ll give you notice next time, but you don’t have to attend. You’ve already got Cheyenne trained as a security champion.”

“I know.” She walked farther into the room, skirting the dogs. She looked ready to patrol our grounds in her black security staff shirt and jeans. She looked as great as she usually did lately. A good job, adequate income, and happy love life apparently all agreed with her.

I decided to shelve my annoyance with her that reappeared in my mind from our last get-together.

She settled into a chair across from my desk and swung one leg nonchalantly over the other, revealing her short-topped boots. “So, did you find anything interesting online just now about Miles Frankovick’s murder?”

I glared. “What makes you think I was looking into it now?”

“The expression on your face. Plus, I know you, Lauren. When you get something on your mind, you obsess about it. Yes, you let things interrupt—especially things relating
to HotRescues—but now, alone in your office, you looked so absorbed. I know that’s what you’re up to. Besides, there was something on the news today about a memorial service for Miles, and I’ll bet you were there. Right?”

“Could be.” I ignored her self-satisfied grin. But I had a thought. She had a good mind for solving puzzles, especially those relating to crimes. Did I dare try to utilize it? “If I did happen to be doing some checking,” I said, as nonchalantly as if I was discussing whether I’d been cleaning out cat litter, “are you going to give me a hard time about it?”

“Would it do any good?”

I shook my head.

“I figured. So … did you find anything interesting?”

“Maybe,” I said. “Care to brainstorm?”

She laughed. “So tell me who your latest suspect is and why.”

I brainstormed a lot with Brooke before I’d left for home last night. Had even gotten her to call Antonio on my behalf.

That was why I’d left Zoey at HotRescues this Sunday morning and headed for the L.A. Sheriff’s patrol station in West Hollywood.

I had learned online that Al Traymore, the guy Dr. Abe Renteen had suggested as the ideal suspect in Miles’s killing, was a deputy sheriff. Despite being one of the three-against-me department the other night, Antonio had been nice enough to schedule me for a meeting with Deputy Traymore.

Not that they were colleagues, exactly. The Los Angeles Police Department was in charge of everything within the
city of L.A., whereas the Sheriff’s Department took care of all the rest of Los Angeles County, including some small towns like West Hollywood that were carved out of the main city’s boundaries. Confusing.