Oodles of Poodles (A PET RESCUE MYSTERY)

by Johnston, LindaO.

  I felt a little sorry for myself as Zoey and I got out of the car and entered the welcome area but immediately pasted a smile on my face. Nina was there, and she looked worried.

  “You heard about what happened here last night?” I could have made that a statement rather than a question, too. She had risen from behind the desk and approached to give me a hug.

  “I got here early and talked to Brooke and Antonio. Plus—well, it was on the KVKV news this morning.”

  She listened to that station—the one where Carlie’s Liam worked? Well, why not? He’d been helpful to me, and he was obviously a pet-lover. Although most of the broadcasts on that channel were typical snoop-into-the-life-of-uncooperative-celebrity types, so were nearly all news shows these days.

  “We’re still waiting to hear what the contents were of the food bags the intruder brought,” I said, “but all the animals seemed fine when I left, and, more important, when Dr. Cyd came to check them out.”

  “They all seem fine now, too,” Nina said. “But I’m glad they had a vet checkup.”

  Zoey and I went down the hall to my office, where I put my purse into a drawer and changed into my blue HotRescues knit shirt, an extra one I kept there for emergencies. Then we went out for our first stroll of the day through the kennel areas. Or the official day, anyway. We’d done plenty visiting of our inhabitants in the wee hours this morning.

  It was late enough that the kennel area was fairly busy with staff and volunteers. I didn’t see any potential adopters being shown around yet, but I had hopes for this Thursday.

  If nothing else, the mention of HotRescues on the news might remind people to come here if they’d otherwise been considering a visit to check out pets they might like to adopt.

  A number would come out of sheer curiosity. But even some of them could make potentially suitable adopters.

  My normal greetings from Pete and Bev and other volunteers were fairly poignant instead of the usual wave and cheerful good morning.

  “Are you okay, Lauren?” asked Mamie. She had just exited one of the kennels, where she’d let one of the bigger dogs, Rottweiler mix Hale, slobber all over her. Even this sometimes confused senior citizen had heard about what had gone on here.

  “I wasn’t here when all the excitement happened,” I told her. “I’m fine. More important, all our residents are fine, too.”

  “I’m glad.” She gave me a huge smile beneath her red, curly hair, then turned to enter the next kennel, where Shazam, the Doberman, had sat down to wait for her. He was one well-behaved dog, and I was always surprised he was still with us.

  Zoey and I continued on, although I stopped to say something encouraging to each of the dogs we passed, even those who kept barking at us.

  Then I stopped. I had just noticed someone at the end of this row of kennels, near the large storage shed. A volunteer. Or was she?

  It looked like Cathy Thomas, which meant it was Katrina Tirza, Councilman Randell’s ex-girlfriend who had accused him of abandoning his dog, Hope. And, yes, that was where she now stood, right outside Hope’s kennel.

  She’d apparently spotted me, too; she started to turn as if to run out the driveway to the side of the storage building.

  “Wait,” I called to her.

  Her back still toward me, she lifted her shoulders as if waiting for a blow.

  I wouldn’t hit her any more than I’d strike a dog. But if the blow she expected was an interrogation, then she was right to worry.

  “Hello, Katrina,” I said.

  She turned toward me. She was apparently in her Cathy persona, since she wore a yellow HotRescues volunteer shirt. It was snug on her and showed off her cleavage. I’d noticed before, when she was here as a new volunteer, that she was quite pretty, with pouty lips and long, dark hair and huge brown eyes embellished with long lashes.

  I hadn’t realized that could be a reason she attracted politicos, like Councilman Randell.

  “Hi, Lauren,” she said. “I—I saw you the other day in the audience when I was being interviewed by Marissa Karigan.”

  “I saw you, too. So…who are you, really?”

  Instead of responding, she turned and looked inside the kennel, where poor, sweet Hope gazed out at us, sitting at attention with her tail wagging tentatively. The adorable cocker-poodle mix would have a new home soon, but I still felt obligated to make sure that there’d be no repercussions from the councilman who denied ownership—or anyone else.

  “I’m Katrina,” she said with a sigh. “I just…well, things are complicated. I don’t want to say anything else to get Councilman Randell in trouble with his constituents or otherwise, but I fell in love with his dog. And then when Hope—I mean Ginger—wasn’t there anymore, I wanted to make sure she was okay. I’d been able to track her down—and I can’t say exactly how, but I knew she was at HotRescues. That’s why I became a volunteer, so I could confirm that she was all right.” She seemed to hesitate, and looked down at the ground. “If I were in a position to, I’d adopt her. But I’m not. I just want to make sure she gets a good home—no matter what Guy…er, never mind.”

  “She’s one of ours now,” I said, trying to keep anger out of my voice. What had really gone on with poor Hope? Was she being used in some kind of tug-of-war between these two people?

  “I heard on the news about what happened here last night.” Katrina had taken a step forward, holding out one hand as if trying to soothe me. “I needed to come and check on Hope.” She hesitated. “Could the trespasser have been sent here to steal her? Or to do something to make sure no one would ever find out where she came from?”

  I felt startled. I wasn’t the only one to have those suspicions cross my mind. But Hope hadn’t been singled out.

  It could still have been a warning to keep quiet about things relating to the filming and Hans’s murder. Or something else altogether.

  “Has anyone from the media asked you for an interview about the break-in?” she persisted. “If you do talk to anyone publicly, you might at least hint about the connection to a politician, just to make Guy back off in case he was involved.”

  I had no intention of talking to anyone in the media or otherwise about what had happened, especially with our residents potentially in danger again.

  But if Councilman Randell had had the break-in staged to somehow keep me quiet because he really had owned, then abandoned, poor Hope—or Ginger—he’d done everything all wrong.

  If I got any evidence that the break-in was his doing, I’d be the first to step in front of a camera and make sure that all his constituents knew it before they considered reelecting him again.

  Chapter 24

  Katrina left after our discussion. And my direction to her that Cathy Thomas was no longer welcome at HotRescues.

  She looked sad but didn’t argue.

  Though she’d gone through our orientation to become a volunteer, that had apparently been a ruse so she could come into the kennel area and check on Hope. Which continued to puzzle me. If Hope had been the councilman’s dog and his abandoning her had triggered Katrina’s worry, why hadn’t Katrina simply taken in the poor stray—even just to find her a new, appropriate home?

  Something didn’t sound right. I continued to muse about it as Zoey and I finished our rounds and headed back to my office.

  I got another surprise—sort of—when we reached the main building. Dante was there. Not that his visit was anything but welcome, and it certainly made sense after the break-in. But he wasn’t alone. He had his German shepherd Wagner with him, not to mention his lady friend, Kendra Ballantyne, and her tricolor Cavalier King Charles spaniel, Lexie. They stood in the welcome area chatting with Nina when Zoey and I entered.

  “Hi, Lauren.” Kendra was the first to greet me as the two dogs came over to sniff noses with Zoey. Kendra was thirtysomething, pretty, with shoulder-length brown hair, and well dressed for a pet-sitter in a button-down pink shirt and black slacks. Or maybe not dressed well enough for a lawyer. She was b
oth. She was also smart, and the combination had been enough to attract rich, good-looking Dante. “Good to see you, but what happened here last night?” She was also direct, probably an offshoot of the lawyer part of her.

  I could see from the proud yet irritated look in Dante’s eyes that he’d intended to ask that question himself. Oh, well. Didn’t matter who asked, or at least I didn’t think so. I’d answer as best I could.

  “Let’s go into my office and I’ll tell you about it,” I suggested.

  In about a minute all three people sat on the sofa and chairs in my conversation area. The dogs were friendly enough to just lie down at our feet.

  I started the discussion. “Dante, do you happen to know Councilman Guy Randell?” Dante knew everyone—everyone important, that is. Maybe he could help sort out what was really going on with Hope.

  “Sure. I’ve contributed to his campaign. Why do you ask?” He didn’t look pleased about what he obviously considered a non-sequitur to what he was here to talk about.

  I briefly explained the situation with Hope, or Ginger, and what Katrina Tirza/Cathy Thomas had told me. “She seemed to think that the break-in had something to do with the councilman wanting to tamp down any negative publicity about the dog he allegedly abandoned.”

  I glanced toward Kendra, who was seated right beside Dante on the sofa, as I used the word “allegedly.” I wasn’t a lawyer, but I knew enough not to directly malign someone unless I was certain of his guilt.

  I caught the brief smile in her sparkling blue eyes. “What do you think?” she asked. Wasn’t that more like something a shrink would say than a lawyer?

  Nevertheless, I answered. “I don’t think so, although I’ll reserve judgment. Especially because—well, I’ve been wondering if the person who broke in here is someone involved with the Sheba’s Story filming.”

  “Why do you think that?” Dante asked in a skeptical tone that iced its way up my back. I didn’t want to look stupid to the man who was, in essence, my boss, even though I ran things around HotRescues—and did a damned good job of it.

  And I wasn’t stupid. Not about this or anything else.

  I kept my voice level as I explained how I’d been asking questions around the set.

  “So you think someone’s trying to warn you off?” Kendra asked. Her tone sounded more interested than skeptical. Good. Dante might listen to her.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I also realize that I might be attempting to read meaning into the break-in that’s not there. I suspect the cops won’t spend a lot of time on investigating. It’s probably not high on their agenda, since no one was hurt, not even any animals, for which I’m really grateful. We don’t know yet what that supposed food was composed of, but it apparently wasn’t poison.”

  “You could be right, Lauren,” Dante said slowly. His skepticism seemed to have evaporated. Or maybe he had just wanted to see my reaction to it. “I’d thought it could have been a message for you. I heard from Niall about your foray into accusing everyone in the production of killing Hans—or asking them all to reveal their own suspicions. And Niall wasn’t the only one. We decided to stop here this morning to make sure everything’s okay, but Kendra and I are on our way to a meeting.”

  Dante had never struck me as the dramatic type, but he stopped as if challenging me to ask something about that meeting.

  No need to disappoint him. He’d stoked my curiosity.

  “What kind of meeting?” I asked.

  “We’re getting together with Niall, Morton Lesque, and maybe others at Solario Studios. I thought I might need legal advice, but rather than hiring someone official I’m bringing Kendra along for her take on what happens.” They shared fond looks again, then Dante turned back to me. “None of the people working on the movie seems thrilled right now with your being my agent at the filming sessions. I may need to convince them to let you back on the lot on my behalf. Do you think I should do that?”

  The stare in his dark, intense eyes was challenging.

  I glared back. Without reservation, I said, “Hell yes, if you want to make sure your investment in Sheba’s Story is being protected. I’m your extra set of eyes. And if solving Hans Marford’s murder also helps to protect the production, well—there’s no one better than me to figure that out, Dante.”

  I caught the look shared between Dante and Kendra but was unable to fully interpret it. Doubt? Irony? Pity? A combo?

  I started to rise. The dogs sensed my movement and all three sets of eyes opened and focused on me.

  “Kendra has a good reputation in that arena.” Dante smiled at her.

  “Oh, but Lauren has been doing such a good job on her own that I don’t want to interfere,” she said.

  I ignored her irony and sat back down. “Tell you what.” I looked straight at Dante. “Give me a call after your meeting with Morton and the others. I really think I’m contributing a lot as your representative. It won’t hurt the production if I also keep the killer on his toes and prevent him from harming anyone else because his guilt would be too obvious.”

  “Okay,” Dante agreed. “I’ll call you.”

  “If they convince you not to let me back, please give me one more shot at persuading you otherwise. I really think it’s in your best interests to have me there. Niall’s your friend but he has his own agenda. My agenda is twofold: to be there for you, and to be there for the animals, too. Nothing there about benefiting me. And if you make it clear that you’re backing my presence, you shouldn’t have to waste time on meetings like this one unless you choose to. You can just watch filming when you feel like it.”

  I waited to see if he agreed. I guessed that he did, because he rose, and Kendra and the dogs followed his lead.

  “I’ll talk to you later, Lauren,” he said, and they all left HotRescues.

  I did get a call early that afternoon—not from Dante, but from the Barancas, asking how their adoption of Hope was progressing. I told Judy that we were still confirming Hope’s availability, but that so far everything looked good.

  After all, even if the story had occurred as Katrina described it, no one had placed dibs on the poor canine who’d been affected, one way or another, by becoming a stray.

  I was just being extremely cautious. Maybe too cautious.

  Or was I just using Hope as bait to get the truth?

  Probably both.

  But at the moment I didn’t see any reason these people shouldn’t be able to become family to the dog.

  “One more thing I have to do,” I said, thinking about how Dante said he’d make some inquiries. “If it turns out the way I think it will, I’ll give you a call and you can come get her.”

  If it didn’t, it would subtract some brownie points from their daughter’s boyfriend, my son—but nothing I could do about that except try.

  My second call came while Angie Shayde and I were in the cat house playing with some adorable, young kittens. I heard my name called on the intercom and ran back to my office to answer. I sat back down at my desk and picked up the receiver for the shelter’s landline.

  It was Carlie. “What did you do, Lauren?” she asked.

  Confused, I said, “I visited all the animals here with Cyd when she was checking on them last night after the break-in. Is something wrong?”

  “I mean about Hans’s murder. I’ve been hearing all sorts of angry stuff from people who said you’d accused them in order to try and help me. Did you do that?”

  The answer was yes, but considering her accusatory tone I wanted to soften it a bit. “I was playing a game of sorts to see how all the players reacted. I was hoping to get a good clue about who might have done it. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the result. Not yet, at least. But the break-in could be related.” Or not.

  “Well, thanks. I guess.” Her tone had softened, although this conversation was bothering me enough to motivate me to start doodling on a pad of paper on my desk, and I never doodle. I realized I was drawing a lot of question marks of many sizes and
thicknesses, and made myself stop. “But be careful, Lauren. Even though you mean the best, I’d hate to see someone like that intruder harm you or any of your HotRescues people or animals, especially if it has something to do with helping me.”

  “Me, too,” I assured her. “And, yes, I’ll be careful.”

  My next phone call was one I’d been waiting for. This time, I was just about to leave my office to go visit the building that housed small dogs to go check on some puppies we had recently rescued from a high-kill shelter. I grabbed my smartphone when it rang, though.

  It was Dante. I sank back onto my desk chair, with Zoey watching me with concern. I waited for the worst.

  “Well, Lauren,” he said. “We’ve had our meeting.”

  At his pause, I asked, as I was sure I was meant to, “How did it go?”

  “Were your ears burning? You were definitely a subject of conversation.”

  “Yes, they’ve been tingling all day,” I said, rolling my eyes but glad he couldn’t see that.

  “There’s going to be a filming of a major scene at the studio tomorrow,” he continued. I waited for the other shoe to drop: he either had to be there himself or send someone else. I wasn’t allowed to be there. “I’m going to attend.”

  Was he angry with me for his having to interrupt his regular work schedule that way? Hell, attending on his behalf disrupted my usual routine at HotRescues. It would be good if I could get out of it—sort of.

  “Okay,” I said, waiting for him to tell me to butt out.

  “You’re going to attend with me,” he finished.

  I grinned in relief.

  Chapter 25

  I spent a fair amount of time at HotRescues the next morning. For one thing, I wanted to assure myself that none of our residents was suffering a delayed reaction to whatever food had been dropped on the grounds two nights before, when they’d also been let loose.