Oodles of Poodles (A PET RESCUE MYSTERY)

by Johnston, LindaO.

  Maybe she was laying it on too thick, but I smiled back. “All of it is true.” I saw Grant hand the clipboard back to Nina, who gave a half-salute to show that everyone had signed in. “And now you can see for yourself.” I gestured toward the hall to the kennel area. “You all head that way and I’ll meet you outside. I want to leave Zoey with Nina.”

  And to get Nina’s initial impression. But, as she shepherded Zoey into the area behind the welcome desk, she just gave a tiny shrug. She had no insight for me, at least not yet.

  I’d already talked things over with Antonio and Brooke. They’d be watching the security camera in real time, as would the EverySecurity operative, wherever he was.

  I would watch in real time, too, to see Jerry’s reaction as he went into the shelter area.

  And we were going to do something I absolutely never did.

  Time to go see how it worked out.

  “They’re really cute,” Winna said as she peered into the first kennels on the left in our initial shelter area. A couple of the dogs were barking. Others were sitting behind their glass doors as if regally awaiting the notice of their subjects so they would be given the petting and other attention they deserved. “I see what you mean about a great shelter. Everything is clean, and they all look so well cared for.”

  “That’s for sure,” said Mamie Spelling, who had come to greet the Sheba’s Story folks along with the other volunteers I’d spoken with earlier. She sounded so proud it made me grin—both in affirmation of what she said, and because I remained glad that this former hoarder now helped so well around here.

  I remained behind the visitors, observing Jerry but also trying to keep close watch on them all.

  They all gushed over our highly deserving residents, but none gave any indication of having been here before.

  I admit that I’d really hoped it would be that simple. But I’m no fool. It had been a long shot.

  And that long shot appeared to be missing its mark.

  On impulse, I maneuvered around some of them to stand between Bev and Mamie. “I’d like to introduce you to some of the junior handlers on the set,” I told them. “This is Elena, and this is Jerry. And the senior handler there, that is Winna. This is the first time any of them have come to HotRescues.”

  Okay, I was being repetitious, but I was still watching for any change in attitude, anything at all to indicate that Jerry was hiding something.

  “Are you interested in becoming volunteers here?” Mamie asked.

  Good question. One that could possibly elicit some kind of helpful reaction.

  “Maybe,” Elena said. “I’m really impressed with it all.” She waved her hand dramatically around in a smooth, model’s gesture, as if attempting to encompass everything she saw.

  “Me, too,” Jerry said. “I can see now why some of the shelter scenes are being shot the way they are. I know Mr. DeFrancisco would want us to make a good impression on our film audience, and keeping things looking like HotRescues should do that.”

  Sounded as if they were trying to outdo one another so word would get back to Dante. It never hurt to have a wealthy producer on one’s side.

  But that wasn’t helping me.

  I herded the crowd through the rows of kennels. Pete came out of the ground floor of the center building. He looked at me quizzically.

  Brooke must have just spoken with him. I nodded.

  This group continued forward, at least one person pausing in front of each kennel to talk to the dog or two inside.

  That left the dogs in the kennels we passed alone once more.

  But not exactly.

  I turned slightly and nodded to Pete. He, in turn, did as Brooke had undoubtedly told him.

  Starting with the kennel nearest the entrance to the building, he first tested its door, which stayed shut. Then he started opening the kennel gates. Not all of them, but only those of dogs we already knew got along together.

  I’d already checked the gates nearest the rear of the shelter, around the storage building, and felt confident that everything was secure.

  Everything except the states of mind, I hoped, of our visitors—or at least one of them.

  In moments, the place looked as it had the night our intruder had been there, with dogs running all over the place.

  “Hey!” Grant Jefferly called out in alarm. Obviously he wouldn’t be able to verify that no animals around here were being endangered—not that he had to.

  “What’s happening?” Winna was the next one to apparently freak out. Her subordinate handlers looked dazed, then upset. “Cowan,” she shouted, “how do we get these dogs under control?”

  Pete and the rest of our kennel staff and volunteers were suddenly in the midst of things, snapping leashes on the eight or nine dogs that were dashing around.

  Mick Paramus and R. G. looked shocked, but they did attempt to grab some of the dogs’ collars to catch them, too.

  “Sit,” Cowan said to Shazam, the Doberman who’d run up to him. Of course well-behaved Shazam obeyed.

  Not so all the other dogs, though. But once they were leashed, they were all okay.

  I’d been worried about all the animals, but I also trusted my staff and volunteers, who’d been let in on what was about to happen and given instructions on how to help.

  I’d been watching the dogs carefully anyway, in case we had any real problems, which we didn’t.

  But neither did we have anyone make the gesture we’d seen on the security footage the night of the break-in.

  Not even Jerry Amalon.

  Chapter 28

  I wasn’t happy.

  Never mind that the killers in the murders I’d previously solved didn’t just appear on computer monitors waving at me or making strange gestures. I’d wanted an easy answer this time.

  Not that I’d have had foolproof evidence of Jerry’s guilt in killing Hans, even if he’d stared at the running dogs and gotten discombobulated enough again to make that odd motion. But at least it would have given the authorities reason to interrogate him for the break-in here and ask why he’d chosen HotRescues—like, if he had a grudge against me for asking if he was guilty of Hans’s murder. Or because I’d asked a lot of people that…and got them thinking more about who else could be guilty.

  For now, I calmly helped our staff round up the dogs and return them to their kennels.

  “Everything all right around here, Lauren?” asked Grant. I’d just returned Hope to her enclosure and took an extra minute to stay near the poor, sweet thing who watched me soulfully, as if she accepted without question this additional oddity in her life.

  “You mean, are all the animals okay?” I responded. “Yes, they’re fine. We just had a bit of a miscommunication.” That was my overt excuse.

  “You know,” he said pensively, “I’ve heard so many good things about HotRescues’ reputation as one of the best pet shelters around. I’d never have thought a mistake like that could be made.”

  I looked into his narrowed blue eyes. I had the uncomfortable feeling that he was attempting to read my thoughts.

  “Not usually,” I said with a rueful shrug. I wanted to make it clear that my facility was every bit as good as what he’d heard. Even better. Instead, I continued, “We’re all just a little flustered over that break-in. I’ll be talking to our people about taking extra care. You can be sure of that.”

  “But I noticed…”

  “What?” I prompted.

  “I thought you’d be a lot angrier over something like those dogs getting loose. It was almost as if you expected—wanted—it.”

  I’d be upset if I believed that Grant had been our intruder and had analyzed me so correctly. Right or wrong, I believed I could trust the American Humane representative. Maybe that was because of how much he clearly cared about animal welfare.

  Even so…“Of course not,” I said, although my tone remained light. I wasn’t admitting anything.

  Neither did I show any anger at what amounted to an accus
ation from him. Not when he was right.

  “Well…” He smiled, revealing his white teeth. “Keep me informed.” He turned and followed the group of Sheba’s Story folks being shown into the newer area of our shelter on a continuation of their tour.

  I didn’t ask what he meant, but I sort of admired Grant for his intelligent grasp of what I hadn’t said. I also didn’t like it.

  What if he was more involved than I’d thought?

  Folding my arms, I followed Grant.

  One group of our visitors had already turned the corner into the kennel area within the newest part of HotRescues. Grant caught up and followed Mamie into the building where our smaller dogs and puppies were housed downstairs, with offices above. Cowan was with them. Mamie was so short that I could barely see her, despite Cowan’s not being much taller.

  Bev and our other volunteers remained with the rest of the visitors. I stayed far enough back that I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but everyone seemed to be separating into smaller groups to look in the nearest kennels.

  Unsurprisingly, each group was comprised of the people who worked most closely together. Mick and R. G. stayed close to Bev, who showed off the enclosures back here, which were of a different design but equal quality to the ones in the front. The gates here were chain link instead of glass.

  All the animal handlers except Winna were as youthful as Sally and Ricki, who acted as their tour guides. This group stayed in the courtyard. Sally pointed out our picnic area, where people interested in adopting could visit and bond with the dog they wanted to get to know better.

  Jerry looked interested, as if he were seeing this all for the first time. That could in fact be true for this part of HotRescues, since he’d been seen only in our older area.

  But I wished I could hear what he was saying. What they all were saying.

  I knew I’d be told if any of the Sheba’s Story people happened to mention anything looking familiar. Our volunteers had been primed to listen for that.

  But I wanted more.

  Watching from this distance didn’t do me any good. I decided to go inside with Brooke and Antonio. Our security cameras didn’t have sound, but they could zoom in on an area.

  Would that help me learn something useful? Or was today just a total waste?

  No, it couldn’t be. If nothing else, we had a lot of new visitors to HotRescues who were involved with a movie where rescued dogs were stars. That could only help publicize us and our inhabitants who needed new homes.

  Although word could also get out that our staff was careless, and I was indifferent, and—

  Damn! I had to stop this!

  I turned abruptly and started walking back toward our older shelter area—and nearly ran into Pete, who was hurrying toward me. We both stopped without colliding.

  “Everything okay, Lauren?” The expression on the handyman’s face looked guilty, as if he anticipated that I was about to chew him out for letting the dogs loose—despite my telling him to do so in the first place.

  “Everything’s fine,” I told him. “You did the right thing.” I hesitated. “Everything is okay, isn’t it? I mean, all the dogs are back where they belong?”

  “Sure. I checked. And then I checked again. But you looked so upset that I was worried.”

  I made myself give a quick laugh. “Then you’re always worried,” I joked. “Don’t I always look upset?”

  He laughed a little, too. “If you say so. Mostly, I’d say you almost always look stern, like you take everything around here seriously. That’s the right way to be.”

  I wanted to hug him. Instead, I shot him a genuine smile. “You looking for a raise, Engersol?”

  “You giving me one, Vancouver?”

  “Tell you what. Be my extra set of eyes there, where our volunteers are still giving tours. I’ll be back outside soon.”

  I edged around him, then turned to see Pete approaching the nearest group, the animal handlers.

  He had helped my mood, at least a little. But I still wanted another perspective on this crowd.

  Maybe, somehow, I’d still get the view I wanted.

  “So how are the cameras working?”

  Brooke and Antonio sat side by side on chairs, arms touching, at the small desk in the downstairs security office, watching a computer screen. I felt a bit like an interloper as I joined them. But I had only caught them doing security work, nothing racy. Besides, they knew I was coming.

  I took a position behind them, peering over Brooke’s shoulder at the black-and-white pictures. The controls allowed the observer to choose which camera to monitor, or even post several of the videos on the screen at one time. That’s what they had going now—the pictures from both cameras panning over the newer area of HotRescues.

  “They’re doing a good job,” Brooke said. “We watched the dogs get loose, with Pete’s help. If he hadn’t been under orders to do that, we’d have been on his case pretty much instantaneously.”

  “Great. He seems worried now, so give him a pat on the back when you see him.” I leaned over to look more closely at the screen. “Nothing looks much different from when I left.”

  Brooke looked up with her smiling amber eyes. “You expect all hell to break loose when you walk away?”

  “No. I was just hoping that a certain visitor would look up toward the camera and shout that not only had he been here before, but he’d let the dogs loose last time. And then confess to murder.”

  Antonio laughed. “Good thing cops don’t have your kind of expectations, Lauren, or we’d all be nuts in no time.”

  “Isn’t that a given—to become a cop, you have to be nuts?”

  We all shared a laugh, but only momentarily. I’d noticed something and bent over Brooke’s shoulder, staring at the screen.

  “Did you see that?” I all but gasped.

  “Well, hell. You may not be getting your entire wish, Lauren,” Antonio said, “but looks like at least part of it’s coming true.”

  Jerry Amalon was standing beside Elena, right outside the last kennel run before the cat house. Inside was Fletcher, a Lab mix we’d recently rescued from a high-kill shelter.

  Jerry wasn’t looking at Fletcher.

  I wasn’t sure what he was looking at. Maybe nothing.

  But he’d just looped his arm over his head in the same gesture I’d seen him make at Solario Studios.

  The same one, too, that our intruder had made on our security tape a couple of nights ago.

  Chapter 29

  We all stood at once.

  Antonio shot a glare back at Brooke and me. “Let me handle this.”

  That was all right with me. He was a cop. He knew the drill as far as approaching a suspect and arresting him.

  But wasn’t that premature?

  Antonio didn’t look official that day. He wasn’t wearing any kind of uniform, not even a suit. But his T-shirt and jeans could work as an undercover uniform, couldn’t they?

  Besides, I was sure he had his badge with him. Wouldn’t he always? That would make him official enough.

  I followed the others out of the apartment and down the stairs, then toward the area where Jerry had been captured on the security video.

  Antonio’s long legs caused his stride to be a lot faster than either Brooke’s or mine. He was also agile in the way he maneuvered among the Sheba’s Story visitors and the HotRescues volunteers. Soon, Antonio reached the kennel housing Fletcher. Jerry still stood there with Elena. They were so involved in a heated conversation that they didn’t seem aware of either the nearest dog—or the arms of justice that were about to embrace Jerry.

  “Hi, folks,” Antonio said, interrupting them. He planted himself so close that they couldn’t avoid being aware of his presence. “You’re with that Sheba’s Story production, aren’t you?”

  “That’s right.” Elena’s expression looked quizzical. “Do you work here at HotRescues?”

  “No,” Antonio said. “I’m with the Los Angeles Police Department.�
�� He pulled the badge I knew he’d have with him from his jeans pocket and flashed it. “Are you Jerry Amalon?”

  Jerry’s complexion, reddened by whatever Elena and he had been talking about, suddenly faded to blizzard white—an even starker contrast with his black Solario Studios T-shirt. “Yes,” he croaked. Then, more strongly, he asked, “How do you know my name?”

  “Why don’t we go somewhere private to discuss that?” Antonio reached to grasp Jerry’s arm.

  “What’s this about?” Jerry looked frantically toward me as he resisted Antonio.

  “It’s about the last time you were at HotRescues,” I answered coldly, getting an angry glare from Antonio. I suppose he would have preferred that I said nothing. Since I had, Jerry might now have a little more time to come up with some flimsy excuse.

  But Jerry undoubtedly knew just what this was about, so he’d already had plenty of time to come up with whatever story he thought would work.

  “Like I told everyone before, this is my first time at HotRescues.” His words ended on a sob, and I noticed he had tears in his eyes.

  As much as I like to pride myself on my expertise in reading people, I was taken aback. He sounded, and looked, really genuine.

  On the other hand, he was in the film industry. I hadn’t originally thought him to be a wannabe actor, but my opinion had wavered. Even so, he was putting on one heck of a convincing act.

  “Why do you think he was here before?” Elena had taken a step forward as if she wanted to protect her coworker. I’d already figured there was something more between them than handling animals together.

  Antonio shot me a fierce glare. So did Brooke, who stood behind him. They must have thought I was going to say something about that tell-all gesture.

  I knew better.

  “That’s something I need to discuss with him,” Antonio said to Elena. Then, directed at Jerry, “Will you please come with me?”

  Before he responded, two guys in suits strode up from around the rear corner of the shelter. They were followed by Nina, who looked relieved to see me. She joined me as the two men started talking to Brooke.