Hounds Abound (9 page)

She’d obviously seen my name on her screen since I’d
called her smartphone with mine. “I’m at Save’Em,” I said. “Miles Frankovick has been murdered.”

“Did Bella do it?” Carlie’s voice was stronger, and I pictured her sitting up in bed, now wide awake. She had heard Bella’s threat over the phone when we first met her, too, so I wasn’t surprised at her question.

“No,” I said firmly, because I was pretty much convinced of her innocence. I quickly related to Carlie the call I’d gotten from Bella and what had happened since then. My voice grew raspy as I described finding Miles in his car and seeing the knife in his chest.

“I’ll be there in about half an hour,” she said.

“That doesn’t leave you much time to get dressed,” I said. She lived not too far from her veterinary clinic in Northridge.

“I’ll just throw on some clothes. It’s not like I’ll be going in front of a camera.”

I wasn’t sure why I felt a little relieved as we hung up. I was a mature adult who was comfortable being in charge not only of herself but dozens of dogs and cats needing homes, plus the staff and volunteers who helped to care for them. The prior situations I’d been involved in where people had been murdered in my vicinity also gave me experience in dealing with this kind of situation.

But I was as uneasy as if I was a suspect.

Maybe people who dealt with murders all the time never got used to them. I intended not to find out any more than I already had.

This time, the cops would surely find the perpetrator, and soon. The LAPD had a good crime-solving record. My assisting by directing them to the right suspect twice was
probably a fluke. Well, based on intelligent analysis, but still …

As I returned to the parking lot area, I considered what to do for the next half hour till Carlie arrived. If anything was different from the way it had been before I made my call, I couldn’t tell—except that Miles’s body had been removed by the coroner’s office. Matt was still near Miles’s parked car, talking to some guys in suits, including Detective Garciana. They were all probably trading information. Matt was, after all, an officer of the law, but the laws he was in charge of enforcing involved animals more than people.

I didn’t see Bella but figured she was inside her house being interrogated about her deteriorated relationship with Miles, and whether she had killed him.

I hoped she, too, watched cop shows—enough to know not to answer incriminating questions without a lawyer present.

For now, I decided to let the cops who were near the entry to the back part of the property know that a vet would soon be arriving to make sure that any animal here that needed attention would be cared for. Carlie could do that, of course, if necessary—even if that wasn’t her real reason for coming.

Then, I would interrupt the official conclave among Matt, Garciana, and the others. As I drew near, I saw Matt scowl in my direction. Apparently he didn’t want me to butt in.

I pondered a few seconds, then decided to trust him. Since he wasn’t part of LAPD, he wasn’t likely to be included in anything too confidential. Whatever they let
him in on should, therefore, be something he could impart to me. I could then let Bella’s lawyer know.

For the moment, I had nothing to do. I hated to feel as if I was extraneous, with no way to help.

Time for me to go visit some special-needs pets.

I had to show my HotRescues ID to a couple of uniformed cops, and explain that Detective Garciana knew me and I was there to look in on the animals. After a quick phone call or two, presumably to Garciana, I had no trouble going into the rear part of the main building, into the area where pets with disabilities were housed. I’d check on them first, then head for the other end of the building to look in on the senior dogs.

About a week had passed since my first visit. Unlike with HotRescues, where we tried hard not to keep residents any longer than it took to find them wonderful new homes, these were almost the same animals that had been around when I was last here. A couple seemed unfamiliar and had possibly been added since then, but I recognized the three-legged pup I had seen before, as well as the deaf one, the blind cat and the one with spinal curvature.

I especially recalled the Basset hound mix who had captured my attention and sympathy most during my earlier visit, the dog who had no use of his back legs. I checked the slip at his entry gate to confirm that I remembered his name correctly: Nifty. Most of the other dogs were barking as I entered, and on seeing me they aimed their irritated comments at me. Not Nifty. He just sat and watched me with interest, as if I was the one inside an enclosure waiting
for attention and he had to decide whether I was worthy of his giving me any.

Ignoring the others’ barks, I opened Nifty’s front gate and slid inside. I noted the shelf of cloth and paper towels and plastic bags above him and the fact he had soiled the area behind him. I did a quick cleaning job and noted that he had moved away soon enough not to dirty himself.

“You’re such a good dog, Nifty.” I sat down on the clean tile to give him a hug. He gave me a lick on the cheek. I again considered what would happen to him and the others now. If Bella was even arrested, let alone convicted, for Miles’s death, were there other people who could step in and take charge of Save’Em?

What if that horrible vet who had been interviewed on TV—Drammon—got his way, and all the senior and disabled pets here were destroyed simply because whoever took over here assumed they were suffering?

I felt wetness on my cheeks that wasn’t solely due to the kisses Nifty was deigning to give me. I hugged him closer.

“You’ll be fine, boy,” I said. “I promise.”

I felt a lot better about having given that promise after I finished walking through the main building and checking on the other inhabitants. When I went back outside, Carlie was there.

If she did what she’d said and featured Save’Em on her show, she could put out a plea for donations. I’d also approach Dante for help. I would suggest that at least some of the participants in the HotPets marathon that I was
going to run with Matt designate Save’Em as the charity where their sponsored donations would go.

But I really hoped that Bella remained in charge. She had been the one to dream of, then implement, the Save Them All Sanctuary model.

Carlie must have been there for a while since she was surrounded—not by paparazzi, who had not yet infiltrated the parking area, but by cops.

She couldn’t be a suspect. I wouldn’t be interfering with an investigation by joining her—so I did.

So did Detective Garciana. Matt remained near the car where Miles’s body was found, still talking to other guys in suits.

“So you’re just here because you’re a veterinarian?” Garciana was asking. Carlie and he were at one edge of the parking lot, close to Bella’s house. He was scowling, as if he wasn’t happy about the interruption caused by her presence.

“That’s mostly right,” she said.

Despite the fact she had done as promised on the phone and hurried here, apparently taking enough time only to put on a Longevity Vision Channel T-shirt, jeans and sneakers, and no makeup, she looked pretty good.

“I’m also concerned about the ongoing condition of this pet sanctuary,” she continued. “With a homicide here, it could be subject to negative publicity. And since what I heard was that the victim is the ex-husband of Save’Em’s founder Bella Frankovick, it’s a logical conclusion to think that Bella may be considered a suspect. If so, her attention may be diverted from Save’Em while the investigation is going on.”

“It may be really diverted if she’s arrested,” I added.

“You’re that veterinarian who’s on TV,” one of the three uniformed cops who remained near Garciana said to Carlie. She looked about as young as my college-age daughter, and her brown eyes were open in a wide stare that looked admiring. Her nametag read Wilfred. “I like your
Pet Fitness
show. I watch it all the time. I heard on the last one that you plan to do a feature on this place. Right?”

Carlie nodded. “That’s my intention.”

“Wait a minute,” Garciana said. “You’re on TV? I told my officers to make sure that all media people were kept out of this crime scene.”

“I’m not a reporter,” Carlie said. “My show is about animal health.”

“And you’re going to contradict everything that other vet said in his TV interview about what a bad idea this kind of pet sanctuary is, aren’t you?” asked Officer Wilfred.

“What are you talking about?” Garciana growled.

The young officer told him about seeing the interview of Dr. Victor Drammon on television, and how he’d said that Save’Em’s policy of keeping older and infirm pets alive was abusive.

“Dr. Stellan’s show about this place hasn’t aired yet,” she concluded, “but when she mentioned it she hinted about how wonderful a place like this is, and how good it is for special-needs pets.”

“That’s something the victim and his ex-wife were heard arguing about.” I was surprised both that Garciana knew about that already and that he mentioned it in front of Carlie and me. But I recognized the look of speculation on his dark-featured face that changed immediately to an innocently sincere expression—the way he looked when
interrogating someone he thought could be a suspect. I’d learned that the hard way.

But Carlie, a suspect? No way.

“You didn’t know Miles, though, did you, Carlie?” I quickly interjected.

“No, and I’d only recently met Bella.” Her worried glance at me suggested she understood why I’d asked.

“I’d like to take you into the main building, Carlie.” I nodded in its direction. “There are a couple of dogs I think you should examine.” Not really, but I hoped that would put her visit back into perspective.

“Sure.” She stole a glance toward Garciana. He didn’t object.

“It’s okay if you both go there,” he said. “I’ve already put the word out that Ms. Vancouver can look in on the animals and make sure they’re all right as long as she stays out of the way. But I’d like some contact information from you.” He nodded toward Carlie. “We may want to interview you.”

“And I may want to interview you, Detective,” she said. “On my show. If there’s anything about your investigation that might endanger the operation of this sanctuary, I’d like my viewers to know about it.”

Don’t push your luck
, I wanted to shout to Carlie. Apparently Garciana, despite his speculative look, was willing to let Carlie go about her business without subjecting her to an interrogation—for now. But if he thought she was somehow going to interfere with his investigation—or if he thought there was any teensy but real possibility of her being a suspect—antagonizing him by suggesting she wanted to interview him on-camera might only make things worse for her.

“That might be interesting for both of us, Dr. Stellan.” Garciana eyed the card she’d pulled from her purse and handed to him.

From the corner of my eye, I saw that Matt had left the group of investigators he had been talking to and was approaching us. He wasn’t looking at me, though.

Instead, his gaze was aimed beyond where Carlie, Garciana, and I stood, toward the house.

I turned to see what he was so focused on.

Bella Frankovick had just come through the door. Another uniformed detective emerged behind her.

She moved slowly. An exhausted, ragged expression made her usually lovely face sag.

And she was crying.

Bella apparently wanted to talk to me then as much as she wanted to be confronted by the media. Or maybe she simply couldn’t talk. Her smile was brave as she came over to where we stood, but her face and demeanor made it clear how unhappy and scared she was. She didn’t meet my gaze.

Since the door had been left open, Sammy had followed her out, and the alert Malinois sat obediently at Bella’s feet, ears moving as he obviously listened to what was going on around him.

“Has anyone checked on the animals?” Bella asked, making it clear that, despite the hell she must be going through, her priorities were not affected.

“I walked through the main building a little while ago and everyone looked fine,” I said. “I haven’t checked on the cats, though.”

“I’ll do that now,” Carlie said. “And I’ll take another look at the dogs and special-needs animals as well.”

“I’ll come along. We’ll probably leave after that.” I looked at Bella quizzically, ready to change my mind if she needed us to stay.

She gave a quick nod. “I need to take care of a few things,” she said. “But I’ll be here tomorrow.” That said a lot. Apparently she didn’t believe she was in danger of imminent arrest. A good thing. Maybe she wasn’t at the top of the suspect list.

Even so, I wondered if she had called her lawyer. She at least had someone on call for matters relating to her divorce. If whoever that was didn’t do criminal work, Bella still might be able to get a referral. If not, I knew someone I could recommend.

“I’ll talk to you then,” I told her. I’d ask, when we spoke, what her attorney situation was.

I hoped she wouldn’t need one, but suspected she already did.

I called Brooke Pernall from the car as Matt drove me home from Save’Em. Since our security director was on duty that night at HotRescues, she wasn’t soundly asleep. I told her what happened, asked her to get whatever insight she could the next day from her boyfriend since Antonio was a detective with the LAPD Gang and Narcotics Division, and requested that she hang around until Nina arrived and was in charge for the morning. I wouldn’t arrive as early as I usually did.