Hounds Abound (27 page)

“Sure,” Carlie said. “I’m going to interview him here on camera for the show on Save’Em. His earlier interview was pretty nasty. I want to film what his reaction is when he sees how the animals here are thriving, that none is suffering and ready to keel over in pain because of your keeping them alive past their prime. Right, sweetie?”

We were passing a kennel in which an Afghan hound with more gray hair than black was standing, watching us go by. Carlie reached in through the wire gate and stroked him. If he’d been a cat, I suspected he’d have purred. Instead, he rubbed his long, thin muzzle against Carlie’s hand.

“I … I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Bella said. She had stopped walking and faced Carlie.

“Of course it is. We’ll show him, for all the world to see, just how wrong he was about your place here, Bella.”

I’d recognized before that Carlie loved to take on controversial subjects regarding animal health. Sometimes I thought she went too far.

Was this one of them?

“I’ve left him a phone message, which he’s ignored. I’ll try again. Maybe even drop in on him,” Carlie continued.

I recalled my own visit to his Beverly Hills–adjacent
veterinary clinic. How I’d left still angry about his explanation of why he had chosen to be so nasty on-camera about Save’Em. He hadn’t given me any useful information when I’d called him after the parvo dump, but I’d admitted to myself later that my questions hadn’t been particularly incisive. This would give me another chance to interrogate him if I could come up with the right angle.

“I like this idea,” I said, planting myself right between Bella and Carlie. Kip remained behind Bella, but I didn’t need to address him. “It’ll probably reflect even better on Save’Em. The guy can’t help but look really dumb on camera faced with all the great stuff you’re doing here, Bella. Carlie’s show will make you famous anyway.” I looked toward Carlie, who beamed. “But having the person who criticized you so publicly reamed in front of an even bigger audience should be amazing, don’t you think?”

“Maybe.” Bella sounded unsure, though. Her face was pale beneath her makeup.

“The guy’s a miserable bastard.” Kip inserted himself into the middle of the three of us. “He was even supposed to be the shelter’s main vet until he started acting that way. Bella was afraid he’d hurt the animals to make his point. Right, Bella?”

“Well … I didn’t think so, but—”

“Not that I’m glad he made threats,” Carlie said, “but I have to admit that I’m happy he ruined his chances of working with you guys. His Santa Beverly Animal Hospital has a great reputation in the veterinary community. I know one of his partners, and I’ve heard how successful they are. They’ve been around for years and are still a reputable practice. I can’t say I’m sorry he shot himself in the
foot, though. I’m thrilled that my Fittest Pet Veterinary Clinic is your vet. And to be able to help special-needs animals this way … fantastic!”

I grinned at her enthusiasm. Even Bella managed a tiny smile, though she still didn’t look happy.

“Imagine how wonderful it’ll feel to make sure the guy gets his comeuppance in front of thousands of viewers,” Carlie added.

“It may not be a bad idea,” Kip said tentatively to Bella. “If you can stand seeing him again.”

For an instant, an almost grieving expression passed over Bella’s face. “Maybe you all are right,” she finally said, sounding brave. “I’d love to see Vic eat his words about Save’Em.” Her pursed lips turned into a hint of a smile. “I’ll be surprised, though, Carlie, if he agrees to come here and take you on like that. But … go for it!”

There wasn’t a lot of traffic on the freeway on my way back to HotRescues, usually a good thing. A truck passed by even faster than I was going, and I inhaled its noxious fumes. Ugh. That was worse than the kennels at my shelter before we cleaned them each day.

I slowed down so I could vent the smell out of my car.

I realized then that something was niggling at my mind, and it wasn’t a hallucination due to breathing in something potentially toxic.

No, it was a scratching on the edges of my consciousness, from things that had been said while I was at Save’Em.

I needed to get back to my computer files and type in my thoughts. See if putting them in a semi-tangible form gave them more sense than the whirling haze constituting my unfettered brain waves.

But when I pulled into the parking lot and ran into the welcome area at HotRescues, I was greeted by a tearful Mamie. The senior citizen volunteer who’d once been my mentor loved to come in on weekends and see all the extra activity when even more people came in and met animals they might want to take home with them.

Small, red-haired Mamie had some psychological issues—the ones that had turned her into an animal hoarder. But she was usually happy at HotRescues.

“What’s wrong?” I asked her.

She sat behind our leopard-print welcome desk as our greeters usually did. I assumed she had also been answering phones, and her reply confirmed it.

“There was a call,” she gulped out. “It was terrible.”

“On the answering machine?” I could only hope, since I wanted to hear it.

“No. I answered. The person on the other end …” Tears rolled down her wrinkled, papery cheeks. I almost hated to prompt her to go on.

But I did. “Did they say who they were?”

“No. And I couldn’t tell if it was a lady or a man. But whoever it was threatened you, Lauren. And HotRescues.”

I froze. “Mamie, tell me exactly what you remember the person said.”

“Something like you’re too nosy for your own good, and also for the good of the HotRescues animals. Parvo’s not the only thing that can go wrong. You should watch your back.”

I called Brooke right away from my office, knowing she would contact not only Antonio, but also EverySecurity,
the outfit that was supposed to be handling all HotRescues safety issues.

“I’ll have them drive by more often, both during the day and at night,” Brooke assured me. “But you’ll need to be careful, Lauren. Maybe hold a short meeting with everyone there, warn them to be careful, too, not accept any relinquishments or take anyone into the shelter area without your okay. And then you—”

“Will do like the creep said,” I finished. “Watch my back.”

Though I felt somewhat unnerved, I also had a sense that what my mind had been circling around as I drove had more substance now. I could be getting nearer to zeroing in on, and proving, who had killed Miles Frankovick.

I also felt more vindicated that the situation with Miracle being left here with parvo had something to do with the murder.

I sat at my computer, the files I had created with separate pages for everyone whom I remotely suspected of killing Miles in front of me.

I’d indexed them at the front, listed by name, from most to least likely.

I went over what I’d heard today at Save’Em. Sweet, loving, newly sarcastic and dedicated—too dedicated?—Kip remained at the forefront. I just couldn’t bring myself to move him farther down despite the conversations I’d had with him and with Bella. Too many factors pointed to him to shuffle him lower in my complicated and unstable deck of cards.

Bella, too—as much as I wanted to clear her and believed in her innocence, the authorities might still be
correct in thinking she was the most likely suspect. Her asking me to help could have been a way of obfuscating the truth. Maybe she’d put me in front of her to trip the detectives and earn their rage rather than doing it herself. But how would the parvo situation fit in?

Then there were those I hadn’t yet discarded, thanks to my glomming onto Detective Stefan Garciana’s precept of thinking about the least likely suspects: Al or Clara Traymore. Miles’s relatives. Dr. Victor Drammon.

Also … I still felt I was right about linking the parvo incident to the killing—and the person who’d dropped Miracle off at HotRescues had obviously been in disguise. Who better than a cosmetic surgeon to know how to do that well? Dr. Abe Renteen? Maybe. With her medical connections, Dr. Serena Santoval might have been able to find an ill dog when she needed to. Plus, she had apparently been Bella’s successor in Miles’s love life. A jilted or unhappy lover was always a good suspect.

On the other hand, how would she, or anyone else from Miles’s medical practice, know that dogs with parvo were being dropped off at Carlie’s, let alone decide to steal one and leave it at HotRescues as a warning?

Then there was Miles’s young assistant Keara, who might also have considered herself a jilted lover. But the dog connection? And could she really have killed him? I doubted it.

Still too many questions, and not enough answers—or evidence—for me to zero in on a suspect.

And until I figured it out, yes, I would be watching my back.

. . .

I was nearly ready to go home that Sunday night. I took my last walk-through around HotRescues with Zoey. Brooke and Cheyenne were with us, too.

We walked out the door and into the shelter area, where dogs in kennels on both sides of our paths came to the gates, some leaping, others barking; hardly any were nice and calm. Despite our encouragement of good behavior, dogs would be dogs.

“I’ve been in close touch with the EverySecurity guys,” Brooke said above the din, pulling her cell phone out of her jeans pocket. “All I need to do is call and they’ll storm in here. Do you want me to have them do the same thing at your home?”

“No.” I patted my thigh to get Zoey’s attention on me and away from one of the enclosed dogs who was asserting alpha-ness. “I just wish Bella had something like that for Save’Em. Someone may be threatening HotRescues and me, but the reason appears to be making sure that Bella remains the primary suspect in her ex’s murder.”

When we’d checked in on all the dogs and cats and found everyone looking healthy and ready to find new homes, I left Brooke at the middle building and returned to my office.

Yes, it was late. But I went through my files yet again. Did some further online research. Stretched my fingers on the computer and my thoughts on everyone I’d been considering a suspect. Rearranged their order again. Or at least some of them.

Eventually, Zoey and I left for home. But I didn’t sleep well.

I wanted answers—especially since HotRescues and I had been threatened again. I realized I should tell Matt about that sometime soon. Tomorrow, maybe.

But so far, I was still as much in the dark about who killed Miles as I was while lying there sleepless in bed.

I called not Matt but Carlie almost as soon as I arrived at HotRescues the next morning—even before Zoey and I took our first walk-through. I sat at my desk, ignoring the computer … for now. I didn’t want to add anything from last night’s near all-nighter.

“How’s Miracle?” I asked first thing, hoping for the most favorable response.

I got it. “She’s fine. Ready for someone from HotRescues to come pick her up today, in fact.”

“I’ll do it,” I said immediately. “Can we grab lunch together first? I’ve got something I want to run by you.”

I’d gotten an idea how she could use her filming tomorrow to either prove, or disprove, the culpability of one of my primary suspects: Kip Schaley.

If I was wrong, there’d be no harm, no foul. And I’d be able to lower him down on my suspect list.

We met for a quick bite at a sandwich shop not far from Carlie’s Fittest Pet veterinary clinic.

“What’s up?” she asked as soon as we’d placed our orders at the counter. I liked the place’s turkey, sprouts, and cheese sandwich and had the self-control to order low-fat chips and a bottle of flavored water to drink.

I led the way to a booth. We both carried our drinks—Carlie had ordered iced tea—and metal sign holders with
numbers showing so a server could bring our food when it was ready. Then I answered.

“A couple of the people who’ll be at your filming tomorrow could be Miles’s killer.” I’d pondered whether to let her know, too, about the latest threat that included me personally and decided I’d better. She might be adding herself to the list of those in the killer’s crosshairs, so to speak—if she wasn’t already.

“Who?” she asked immediately, leaning over the table with her eyes large and her expression excited.

“I’ll tell you when it’s over,” I said, then told her about the call. “Right now, let’s finish eating so I can follow you to your clinic and pick up Miracle.”