Hounds Abound (26 page)

But he had undoubtedly wished Miles dead. That might have lent him the strength and cunning to become a murderer. Besides, the large, general-purpose kitchen knife Miles had been killed with had probably been sharp enough for nearly anyone to use.

And getting me to back off, letting him take the lead in the unofficial investigation, could keep anyone from taking him too seriously as a possible killer.

“Got it,” I said as if I believed him. “And I apologize—sort of. I think I got the information I was looking for here, and that means eliminating you from my suspect list, Kip.”

Yes, I lie when it makes sense to do so.

I still couldn’t prove it was him. Nor could I prove it was—or, better yet, wasn’t—Bella.

“How does tomorrow look for you for Carlie to visit here again?” I asked Bella a short while later.

She’d retrieved her dog, Sammy, from her house, and accompanied me into the part of the main building reserved for special-needs dogs. She had sent Kip back to his office to work on some accounting info she’d claimed to need finalized.

More likely, she wanted to separate Kip from me so I couldn’t accuse him of anything else. Of course I’d finished doing that. For now.

We took Soozle from her kennel and let the now three-legged spaniel, who’d been healing well from her hit-and-run car accident, hobble gamely around the central area with Sammy and us.

“It’s a Saturday,” I continued as we meandered slowly. A number of volunteers were there, too, inside the kennels petting and hugging the dogs who inhabited them. “We’re usually pretty busy at HotRescues since people who work during the week either volunteer or come in to consider adoptions. Is that the case here, too?”

“Not really. As you know, with our special-needs pets we don’t have nearly as many adoptions as you. Tomorrow would be all right, but I would actually prefer Sunday.”

“I’ll check with Carlie,” I told her. “I know she’s eager to film Soozle, not only as a prime example of one of the animals you take care of here but also to demonstrate other special help that’s available. She intends to finish the show on Save’Em as quickly as possible so she can air it soon.”

Which would be a good idea. Maybe it would capture more attention than the dog theft and parvo relinquishment at HotRescues, which had become a minor media event.

Who had first suggested that to some reporter? That was something I really wanted to know. It might be the key to the whole thing.

Did Kip Schaley have media contacts?

“Do check with Carlie about Sunday,” Bella said. “If that works for her, it will work for us as well. Won’t it, Soozle?” She bent down and carefully hugged the three-legged dog, who wagged her stubby tail.

Oh, yes, Soozle would make an excellent doggy star on Carlie’s
Pet Fitness
show.

Carlie was pleased about filming on Sunday. She said so when I called her from my HotRescues office late that Friday afternoon. Zoey fell right to sleep at my feet. Nina had already told me that one of the newest volunteers was nuts about my dog and was permitted to take her on walks—but only on the HotRescues grounds. And then only after staff and other volunteers were notified.

Everyone remained on high alert after the parvo incident.

“I have some things to set up first,” Carlie said, “so I’ll call Bella, maybe go visit her tomorrow, but I’ll make sure it all comes together the next day.”

“Great,” I said. “How’s Miracle, and when can we pick her up?” I’d worked things out with Matt and Animal Services so she could become a HotRescues rescue.

“She’s doing really well. I’d say you can bring her to HotRescues on Monday. Even before might be all right, but I’d rather have my colleagues stay in charge of watching her for the weekend, okay?”

“That’s fine. I’m so glad she’s okay.” I said good-bye then. Another call was coming in on my phone—Matt.

“I’d hoped to ask you out to dinner tonight,” he said, “but the North Central Shelter put out an alert. They’re overcrowded and will have to start euthanizing a bunch of otherwise healthy animals tomorrow unless someone picks them up in the morning.”

“Why did they wait till the last minute?”

“It wasn’t intentional. Sounds as if they got deluged over the last few days by some relinquishments, plus they’d gotten in a bunch of strays before that weren’t claimed, and—”

“Business as usual,” I muttered.

“Exactly.”

I knew what I’d be doing tomorrow. After some great adoptions this week, I did have kennel room available, as well as some openings in our cat enclosures.

But I gathered that the need was for more space than I had. I posted on the Southern California Rescuers Web site that it was an emergency. And even though I knew that the Pet Shelters Together group monitored the site, I sent a personal e-mail to its current chief administrator, Cricket Borley.

By the time I was ready to leave for home that night, I felt reasonably certain that all the endangered pets would have someplace to go.

I was exhausted. I was also keyed up with happiness.

Tomorrow was going to be a big day for rescuing pets.

. . .

Sometimes people—like my kids, or my parents and brother in Arizona—ask if I’m a slave to my job. If I was hired to work seven days a week. If I ever aspire to having a real life outside HotRescues.

My answer is yes to all those questions, and more.

I admit that I’m an addict of sorts—to situations when I can pick up dogs and cats that are otherwise going to die if not rescued, then bring them to a new, temporary home while they await wonderful futures.

That’s what made my voyage to the city care center that Saturday so poignant. It was the kind of event I live for these days.

Plus, I got to share it with administrators of other shelters. Nearly a dozen showed up, some good friends of mine, others acquaintances, all participants in the SoCal Rescuers Web site and quite a few members of Pet Shelters Together, an affiliated group of shelters that had been the crux of my second murder investigation when its chief administrator had been killed. Her successor, Cricket, seemed more … well, human. And definitely involved in saving as many endangered pets as she could, too.

Matt was there. It wasn’t part of his job with Animal Services to pay attention to this kind of situation, but he did. Often. That was one of the things I especially liked about him. That, and the fact that he had let me know so I could put out the word.

I owed him. Plus, I was so happy that I wanted to celebrate. He and I made a date for dinner that night.

That was my answer to the last of those questions:
wanting another life outside pet rescue. I’d socialize with people I liked or cared for—but of course they had to love animals, too.

The shelter administrators like me were met by some of the city care center staff, who took us to the area where they had put the animals in most critical need of saving. Sad-faced dogs seemed to know things were different around here and looked at us with hope as we looked back at them.

Pete attended this rescue with me. We’d brought the large HotRescues van. It was filled with four cats and a half-dozen dogs when we left.

And both of us were smiling.

I was still smiling the next day. Yes, I admit I wasn’t always aware of my expression over the last twenty hours or so, but I know I felt gratified as Pete and I took the animals to Carlie’s veterinary clinic to have them checked out. Carlie was around and said hi, then got her staff busy, and Pete and I left.

The prognosis later in the day was that all our new prospective residents were healthy, except for a few fleas, some mange, and other minor kinds of issues that could be resolved with medicines and determination. I’d send a crew to pick them up on Monday so they could remain under observation for a couple of days.

Then there was my evening with Matt. Rather, Zoey’s and my evening, and night, with Rex and Matt. We ran, practicing for the marathon. We ordered in pizza so our bodies wouldn’t assume we were fully turning over a new leaf in
our attempts to be fit. Matt and Rex stayed the night, and that definitely inspired me to smile, too. Our increasingly athletic bodies made for some interesting exercises together.

Matt had Sunday off. I theoretically did, too. Instead, I popped in at HotRescues after sending Matt and Rex on their way. And then it was time to head to Save’Em to watch Carlie in action.

“Soozle, you’re one sweet spaniel.” Carlie was in the Save’Em infirmary’s examination room with her film crew hovering around, probably making sure that all angles possible were captured. “You remind me of my Max.” Max was also a cocker spaniel, the first dog ever to be adopted from HotRescues. That was how Carlie and I had originally become friends.

Carlie, in a white veterinary jacket, her blond hair arranged carefully around her face, stood by the gleaming metal table in the center of the room. Soozle, the ginger-colored cocker mix, was on it, standing on her three legs and turning this way and that to lick Carlie’s face.

I’d shoehorned my way into a corner—a dark one, out of the way. I didn’t want to be filmed for Carlie’s show. I just wanted to watch what she was doing. Some of the Save’Em volunteers and staff hovered in the background with me, including Peggy, Daya, and Neddie.

Bella, though, stood right beside Carlie, clad proudly in her Save Them All Sanctuary work shirt and wearing tasteful but exaggerated makeup. She was a minor star of this show, after host Carlie and the animals she would feature on
Pet Fitness
. Today’s filming was all about Soozle.

Kip was with us, too. He observed mostly from outside the infirmary. I figured he was even less eager to get captured on camera than me.

I saw the admiring, caring look on his face, though. The guy definitely had it bad for Bella. So bad he would kill—and menace a great shelter like HotRescues with parvo?

Yes, he still headlined my list, notwithstanding his denial and Bella’s siding with him.

Especially when, after joining us briefly, he edged over to me and got in a dig. “So … it’s been a while since this all started. Have you cleared Bella yet?”

“Working on it,” I responded.

“Maybe I’d better take over your investigation after all.”

I just shrugged and continued watching what was going on. He once again moved out of the infirmary.

“Here’s what we’ll do,” Carlie said from the middle of the room. “I’m going to take all sorts of measurements. Can you see us?”

That last question was directed to a laptop computer that was sitting on the examination table, its cover open and against the wall. On its screen were a couple of youthful, earnest guys in white coats—people from the company ProsthaPetics whom Carlie had interviewed a while back on her show featuring animal orthotics and prosthetics. One was Paul, the guy who had come here about a week ago to help fit Nifty, the Basset hound mix, with a wheelchair.

“Yes, Carlie.” The voice sounded nearly as good as if the pair were in the room with us instead of talking from the screen. “We’re ready to write down the parameters as you tell them to us.”

Soozle was about to be fitted with a bionic leg.

I wished whoever had hit her with a car and just left her there to die knew about it. Could see that, instead of the poor dog just dying because of the S.O.B. driver’s actions and failure to try to help her, she would be a TV star. An example of renewed dog mobility, filmed for posterity.

Much more important than her tormenter would ever be.

Once Carlie got all the measurements and gave answers to each of the questions posed by Paul and his colleague, the three of them bantered over the Internet for a few minutes. Bella joined in about how wonderful the situation was, how pleased she was that they were all involved in helping Soozle not only just survive, but thrive with a new leg up on life.

When the chatting ended, so did the filming. Before shutting off the screen, though, Carlie obtained a confirmation from Paul and his buddy that the device they were putting together for Soozle would be finished within a couple of days and shipped by overnight delivery. Carlie would then arrange to come back to Save’Em and fit the gadget onto Soozle here, on camera. Afterward, she’d send a vet tech or two to work with Soozle, make sure the dog acclimated to the device without hurting herself.

“I’m hoping to have someone else here with me, too,” she told Bella, Kip, and me as we started walking toward the front of the main building. The camera guys were left behind for a while to take location shots for the show.

“Who’s that?” I asked. We were just meandering along the first floor of the two-story housing area for senior dogs, and I’d been peering into the kennels. As I’d seen each time I was here, there were a lot of volunteers giving each one individual attention.

“You remember that veterinarian Dr. Victor Drammon, who was so against what Bella was doing here at Save Them All?”

Bella drew in her breath so sharply that I turned toward her. “You … you invited Vic?” Her voice was tiny and shrill.

Kip planted himself beside her. He looked uncertain. I saw his arm rise as if he wanted to put it around her, but he dropped it again.