As I hung up with Grant, I saw the Great Dane’s owner peel away from the reception desk. Sher was looking out the door toward me. I went back inside.
“Dr. Andelson can see you now,” she said and had one of the other techs show me to an examination room.
Cyd Andelson popped in about a minute later holding a clipboard as if ready to take notes on a veterinary case. “Hi, Lauren,” she said. I’d met her and probably all of the vets here at one time or another when I came in with animals from HotRescues for exams and shots. Cyd was in her fifties, a little overweight, with long, nondescript hair fastened at the nape of her neck. “What’s up?” She looked around as if searching for a dog or cat I’d brought in.
“First thing—I meant to ask Carlie. Is the diarrhea epidemic here at Fittest Pet taken care of?” Or would I have to tell Matt to have closer watch kept on Hope to make sure she didn’t come down with anything?
“Of course.” Cyd looked insulted that I would even ask. “All the dogs are doing just fine now. What’s second?”
“Well…Carlie mentioned treating a number of dogs lately who were hit by cars.” I’d wondered, though, if she had made it up to help explain the extent of her anger—without revealing what was actually behind it. “She’d said they were okay. Are they still doing all right?”
“Fortunately, yes. We were very lucky that none had been badly injured—and of course our veterinarians are the best.”
I smiled at that, nodding my agreement—and encompassing her in it as well as Carlie. “There’s one more thing,” I said. “It’s actually a heads-up. Filming’s going to resume on Sheba’s Story tomorrow morning at eight A.M. I don’t know whether you’re aware of it, but Carlie’s…well, she probably won’t be able to attend. She may not be easy to reach to check on her availability, so I figured I’d let you know. Can you be there, or can you get someone else?”
“Sure, I can come. I’m on standby for the production, and I can just let the staff know to get someone to cover for me here—although we might be pretty shorthanded tomorrow.” Her round face looked drawn all of a sudden, and tears appeared in her light brown eyes. “Word’s gotten out that the police are questioning Carlie about the death of that jerk Hans Marford.” Surprise must have shown on my face, and she gave a bark of a laugh. “We’re a pretty close-knit group here at Fittest Pet. We saw Carlie leave with that guy in a suit. We also knew when Marford was hanging around her Pet Fitness set and when she finally had the sense to dump him.”
I wasn’t sure who dumped whom, but that didn’t really matter. The problem was that it seemed clear that people knew about their aborted relationship. And that they’d been in contact again. And argued.
I suspected that the investigation I was about to conduct was even more imperative than I’d first thought.
It might be the only way to keep my dear friend Carlie out of jail.
Chapter 9
As soon as I got back in my car, but before I started driving away, I made a phone call—one I didn’t really want to make but felt I should.
I called the local TV station, where Carlie’s boyfriend worked. The relationship was only a few months old but I figured that Liam Deale should at least know what was going on—if he didn’t already. The media had jumped on reporting Hans’s death. Maybe they were following the situation closely enough to know when a “person of interest” was being interrogated, and I assumed that was what the authorities would call Carlie, at least for now.
Watching the parade of animals being led in and out of the busy veterinary clinic from the lot where I was parked, I used my smartphone to find the number, then called KVKV.
Liam responded almost immediately. “Lauren? What’s going on with Carlie? One of our reporters was at the Devonshire station and said she was brought in there a minute ago. He wasn’t allowed to speak with her, and her phone is turned off so I can’t talk to her either. I assume this is about the death of the director of that movie she’s providing veterinary care for. Did she see something?”
Good. He knew about the film and Carlie’s connection to it, and he apparently didn’t suspect her of anything.
“Not that I’m aware of,” I answered, “but even so, the detectives looking into the director’s death want to talk to her some more about it.”
“Is she a murder suspect?”
“Possibly,” I said slowly.
“Ridiculous! Hell, I’ll get my reporters on it right away and find out what’s really going on. Meantime—are you looking into it?”
Liam had been dating Carlie during the last bit of investigating I’d done so he knew about my past involvement in investigations.
“I might be, but that’s not for publication.” I certainly didn’t want him to get any of his crews to interview me.
“Whatever you say. But let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help.” Another pause. “I know Carlie’s protective of animals, not people so much…She couldn’t really be involved, could she?”
I didn’t like his changed tone—too much speculation and not enough denial.
“Of course not.” That must have come out pretty loud, since a woman passing by with her corgi on a leash looked in at me with a startled expression. “Of course not,” I repeated more quietly. “Keep me informed if you learn anything, and I’ll do the same.”
My irritation with Liam didn’t spill over into my driving as I headed to HotRescues.
I thought about it, though—a lot. But my poor friend had enough to worry about without my suggesting that she upend her current love life. Once she was free and clear of suspicion, I might find a way to hint that a change might be in order. She shouldn’t stay with a man who didn’t fully trust her, and might even consider using her as the focus of a reputation-damaging story. Did Liam suspect, or even know about, Carlie’s past relationship with Hans? Of course I didn’t know that he would do something to harm her—but I had seen stories he had worked on for his station and some had seemed less news and more sensationalism.
I said hi to Nina, then took Zoey on a regular walk-through of my shelter. All the animals looked fine, for pets without their own homes. At least they had people who loved them, including me, my staff, and our volunteers.
Usually, just visiting them was enough to distract me from whatever problems were on my mind. But not today.
My disquiet must have been obvious. Volunteers with dogs on leashes drew close but just said hi and walked on rather than engaging me in conversation about their wards, which was the norm.
Fortunately, Dr. Mona wasn’t there. I didn’t want to have to explain my distress to her, and I had no doubt she’d read it on my face.
Eventually I returned to the welcome area and talked to Nina about some potential adopters who’d come in, fallen in love, and filled out forms. I’d have to meet them before deciding whether the animals they’d chosen were good matches.
My mood for now was such that I’d probably hate every human who came in, so I needed to wait.
Maybe I was wrong about Liam.
And maybe helping Carlie would be easier than I anticipated. I hoped.
It was late, time for Nina to go. “Are you okay, Lauren?” she asked first. “I’m going to the East Valley Animal Shelter to volunteer for a few hours tonight, but I could stay here with you.”
“I’m fine.” I tried to convince her as much as myself.
She still looked dubious but she left.
At least I didn’t have to wait long before our overnight security guru, Brooke, arrived.
I realized that I’d subconsciously planned for Zoey and me to wait till she got here. I needed to talk to the former P.I.
Even more, I wanted to talk to her significant other, Detective Antonio Bautrel of the LAPD.
Brooke popped in right on time, at six o’clock. Zoey and I went to greet her in the welcome area.
Brooke looked bright and energetic and happy, the way she usually did these days despite her earlier health issues. The
narrowness of her face was pretty, not gaunt, and her highlighted brown hair created an attractive frame for it. She wore a uniform consisting of a traditional black T-shirt that read SECURITY STAFF over matching black jeans.
She’d brought her golden retriever Cheyenne, and Zoey hurried over to trade sniffs.
One look at me, though, and Brooke’s smile fell into a concerned frown. “What’s wrong, Lauren?”
“Any possibility of Antonio coming to see you this evening?”
“He’s on his way. Is there a police matter you want to discuss with him?”
I motioned for her to follow me to the small kitchen, where I handed her a bottle of water from the fridge and took one for myself. We returned to the small table in the welcome area where prospective adopters filled out applications. After closing the window blinds, I sat on one side and Brooke took the other. She remained patient, but her expression was full of concern.
“You know my friend Carlie,” I said. Like most people here, she now used The Fittest Pet veterinary clinic for her own pet.
“Yes. Is she—” Her phone beeped. She pulled it out and read the text message. “It’s Antonio. He’s in the parking lot.”
“Go let him in,” I said. “It’ll be better if I tell you both at the same time.”
She unlocked the door from the welcome room to the parking lot, and Antonio strode in.
Antonio Bautrel was an LAPD detective in the Gang and Narcotics Division. He must have just come from work since he was in a dressed-down suit, wearing nice trousers and a shirt but without jacket or tie. He wasn’t a traditionally handsome man, since his nose was rather large and he had a jutting brow, but his demeanor was arresting—in more ways than one.
He gave Brooke a kiss in greeting. They broke away after several long, intense seconds, and he then looked at me.
“Hi, Lauren.” Antonio’s deep voice was breathless, edged in laughter.
“Hi, Antonio.” I smiled back. “Hey, have a few minutes? I need to run something by you.” The recollection popped the balloon of lightness around me, and I motioned for them to join me at the table.
They were both aware, of course, of my affiliation with the Sheba’s Story filming. They’d also both heard about director Hans Marford’s death. Antonio, like Brooke, knew Carlie socially, thanks to me, and professionally thanks to accompanying Brooke and Cheyenne to The Fittest Pet now and then.
I told them the latest about Carlie.
I also considered mentioning her earlier relationship with Hans to get Antonio’s reaction but didn’t want to make that revelation if Carlie was able, somehow, to downplay—or even hide—it. Besides, what she’d told me was probably some kind of legal hearsay, the way I understood it. I’d heard her say it, but it wasn’t my own knowledge.
“Want me to find out what’s going on with her?” Antonio asked.
“Yes,” I said in relief. “Please.”
“Then excuse me.”
Brooke and I left Antonio alone in the welcome area while I joined her initial walk-through of HotRescues for the evening. Just knowing I had someone with clout on my side, someone who’d at least tell me what he could without breaching the official confidentiality shroud of the LAPD, made me feel better. I stopped in a few of the kennels and cleaned them as needed. I also spent some pleasant minutes hugging and playing with a few of our dogs while Brooke continued through to ensure that all looked secure.
That meant I was first to spot Antonio come through the door from the main building.
I quickly hugged the dog I was playing with, the Rottweiler mix Hale, and hurried to the pathway to meet Antonio.
“Did you learn anything?” I said eagerly. But my mood tensed and flattened just at the look on his face.
He nodded, his expression hard beneath his short, black hair, and I expected the worst.
And got it, or at least a close facsimile.
“I’m very sorry, Lauren.” His tone was formal. “Here’s the little I now know, and you’ll need to keep it to yourself. Evidence is still being collected so Carlie is not under arrest, at least not yet. It sounds as if there weren’t useful fingerprints in the vehicle that hit Marford—one connected with the filming—but it could have been wiped clean or the driver might have worn gloves. They are investigating this homicide as a probable murder. And there’s a witness who’s come forward about a relationship Carlie once had with the victim, one that apparently didn’t end well. She’s definitely at least a—”
“Person of interest,” I finished harshly as Brooke joined us once again. “But she didn’t do it.”
“I hope you’re right, but the investigation is ongoing.”
Who was the witness? How much did he or she really know? Could it have been one of the people at The Fittest Pet who’d admitted knowing about the prior relationship—like Dr. Cyd Andelson?
Had things between Hans and Carlie been even worse than she’d said?
No. I had to trust her. I did trust her.
Didn’t I?
“You don’t know for sure that she’s innocent, Lauren,” Brooke said.
“Please stay out of it,” Antonio said to me. “I know you’ve gotten involved in other cases lately and had good results, but—”
“But Carlie’s my friend,” I said. “And she’s asked for my help. I promise to keep you informed about everything I learn, Antonio”—at least all in her favor—“and I’ll be careful, but—well, thanks for the info. Hey, let’s order a pizza, shall we?”
As far as I was concerned, the discussion was over.
But I had a film shoot to visit tomorrow.
Chapter 10
Filming that Thursday was to take place just down the road from where the scenes for Sheba’s Story had been shot on Monday. It was in the same mostly commercial area, but less of the street was available for cars chasing dogs—whether real or set to be dubbed in later.
One block was still cordoned off with crime scene tape.
This scenario was actually pretty handy for me. In situations before when I’d tried to figure out the identity of a murderer, it was unusual to get a whole group of suspects together like this. Sometimes I got to assess several at once during the victim’s funeral. On one occasion there had been a group meeting of suspects—when the victim was the head of an organization of affiliated pet shelters.
I shook my head in disbelief at the way my thoughts were roaming as I walked quickly down the sidewalk from where I’d parked my car. I could see the line of large white trucks at the curb, surrounded by bustling people.
In a minute, I’d reached the perimeter.
“Hi, Lauren.” Dr. Cyd Andelson had approached from one side, and her smile looked relieved, as if she was glad to see a friendly face. The vet of the day hadn’t penetrated the filming area yet. Her mousy brown hair was loose, though I was used to seeing it fastened at her nape at The Fittest Pet. I also usually saw her with a clipboard in hand, but she was carrying a script. Her button-down pink shirt wasn’t tucked into her jeans.
I’d gotten used to dressing up a bit whenever possible when I’d come to a filming. Maybe it was because I represented Dante. It certainly wasn’t because I tried to impress members of the film industry with how professional I could look. Today I wore a woven beige jacket over a blue short-sleeved sweater and navy slacks.
“Hi,” I said to Cyd. “Have you seen Grant?” I figured on spending most of the day following him around—except when I got an opportunity to talk nonchalantly with people I thought could be murder suspects.
Of course, that included Grant.
“No,” Cyd replied, “but a lot of people are already gathering inside the secured filming area. Maybe he’s there.”
“Then let’s go.”
We approached the hired security guys standing at the barrier leading to where the shoot would take place. There were three of them now, but that was the only change I noted. It didn’t seem any harder to convince the guy we talked to that we were who we said we w
ere, and that we were cleared to be present at the filming. The underlying process hadn’t been changed despite the fact that the director had been murdered nearby. But even if he had been killed by someone not authorized to be present, tightening the screening process now wouldn’t resurrect Hans. Was anyone else targeted for murder? Since we didn’t know who’d done it or why, who could say?
It was something I’d consider as I asked my questions.
As soon as we’d gone through the makeshift gate, I saw Grant Jefferly standing nearby. Today he wore a teal blue T-shirt under his American Humane Association vest. He must have seen me at the same time, since his concerned frown as he surveyed the area turned into a huge smile that, as always, revealed his perfect white teeth. Maybe someone should cast him in a toothpaste commercial if he ever got a break from attending film sets. Even with that thought—or maybe because of it, I couldn’t help smiling back. I liked the guy, or at least what he did.
“Hi, Lauren, Dr. Andelson,” he said. “Glad you both could make it.”
“Has any filming started?” I asked.
“No. The new director has called a quick meeting for”—he looked at his wristwatch—“ten minutes from now.”
“Great. I’ll be interested in hearing what he has to say.”
We started walking along the sidewalk inside the area cordoned off for filming. There were a lot of people here, too. The first I recognized was Lyanne Shroeder. She sat on a folding chair on the sidewalk, and a couple of people were fussing over her makeup and hair.
Interesting. I didn’t think she was included in any of the scenes that would be shot today. We’d probably learn more before filming started, but I’d heard that the scenes in today’s takes were to occur prior to the time her character, Millie, even became aware of the dog who’d become Sheba.
Since she wasn’t in a position where she was likely to run off quickly, she could become the subject of my first inquiry. I eased my way through the crowd toward her.
“Good morning,” I said.
Oodles of Poodles (A PET RESCUE MYSTERY) Page 7
