"That's right, chota," Xochitl mocked.
Lowell gingerly walked toward Captain Burch. She was favoring her left leg, and she gasped when she put too much weight on it.
"Captain. This is my CI, Xochitl Magaña. This is her bar," Officer Lowell said. "Officer Torres has sustained a bullet wound. We're waiting for EMTs to arrive. ACTF should secure the dogs."
Captain Burch mulled over Lowell's report. He leaned into her and whispered in her ear. Lowell nodded, turned and slowly walked toward Xochitl.
"Why is everyone standing around," Burch yelled. "Do your jobs!"
The cantina was buzzing with activity once more. Paramedics equipped with a gurney rushed in, nearly bowling Xochitl over. Deciding it would be better to get out of the way, she waved Officer Lowell over to the bar.
Lowell winced as she approached the counter. She motioned for Xochi to turn around. Xochi was confused. Lowell rolled her eyes and pulled out a pocketknife.
Oh.
Xochi turned around and held her arms out as Officer Lowell swiftly cut her ties.
"Thanks." Xochitl rubbed her red wrists.
"Captain Burch wants you to give a statement down at the station. I'll see someone gets you there." Officer Lowell began walking toward the door.
Xochitl didn't move. "Wait, what about Memo?"
"I'm not sure. Just a minute." Lowell pulled her radio off her belt. "Anyone see Guillermo Morales, a.k.a. El Gallo?"
"Tell them he went out the window in the ladies room," Xochi said.
Lowell raised her hand to quiet Xochi and spoke into her radio again. "A witness saw him escaping out the ladies room window of Xochitl's Cantina."
Xochitl waited anxiously for someone to respond. There was static and then a male voice.
"No. Morales escaped. We have an APB out on him."
"What!" Xochitl couldn't contain herself. She turned to the police officers who had taken over her bar. "How could you pendejos miss him! He went out the back! You were there! God damn it!"
From across the room Captain Burch yelled, "Officer Lowell, take your CI outside. Now!"
Lowell pulled Xochitl toward the door.
Xochi reared on her. "You said you'd get him. You said we'd be safe."
Xochi could see the shock and hurt on Lowell's face. She knew the cop had been through the wringer tonight. But she couldn't bring herself to care. Not now. Not while Memo was still out there.
Oh, God. Miguel.
Xochitl struggled to walk. The thought of her little brother in danger was enough to bring her to her knees. But Officer Lowell had a tight grip on her and kept her from falling.
Lowell stopped, transfixed on Officer Torres who was strapped to a gurney, being wheeled out by the paramedics. Without another word, Xochitl and Lucy slowly followed behind her wounded partner into the early morning darkness.
Chapter 3
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"Hanna's almost done reading me the riot act," Lucy said, taking her mouth away from her cell phone. Xochitl turned left onto Doheny Drive and made the yackety-yack hand gesture.
"She's looking up the declawing doctor." Lucy adjusted the sun visor.
"¡Órale!" Xochitl shouted and pointed to a quaint faux-French coffee house nestled beside an upscale day spa. "They have the best vanilla lattes!" Xochitl pulled over and jumped out of the car, leaving Lucy to wrap up her call.
"The dogs miss you." Hanna's soft words drifted into Lucy's ear like spoken in a dream. Lucy gazed at the tall cypress across the street. A large crow hopped from treetop to treetop.
"It's time," Hanna continued when Lucy didn't respond. "We'll talk later." Hanna hung up before Lucy could get out the "yes" caught in her throat.
Feeling a burst of joy, Lucy scooted over and settled behind the wheel of the orange Toronado.
This is gonna be a great day. Everything is gonna be all right.
"Gotta keep up appearances for the folks," she said when Xochitl returned with two large coffees and a white paper bag. Xochi jangled the rooster key chain, clearly reluctant to hand it over.
"The Werewolf Whisperer has to be in the driver's seat." Lucy shrugged as if to say "it's beyond my control."
"What's in the bag?" Lucy asked, accepting the delicious smelling vanilla latte gratefully.
"Croissants," Xochitl taunted. "But you can't drive and eat croissants at the same time." Xochi mimicked Lucy's "it's beyond my control" shrug.
"Just to be clear, chica," Xochitl handed over the keys but kept the croissant bag out of Lucy's reach, "deal's only good 'til Greystone." Xochi fished only one croissant from the bag. "Don't get too comfortable."
"They smell like warm butter," Lucy said, her mouth watering.
"Don't they though," Xochitl replied and took a careful bite.
"You're just afraid El Gallo will like me better," Lucy said and adjusted the rearview mirror just to be annoying.
"Ni lo pienses," Xochitl said, patting the dash lovingly. "When pigs fly, gringa."
Lucy pulled into traffic behind a white Jaguar.
"So, Hanna says the declawing thing is actually old news," Lucy said while Xochitl fastened her seat belt in a hurry. "West Hollywood has had a ban on declawing cats since way back in 2003." Lucy took a sip of her coffee and rode up behind the Jag, which was climbing up the hill so slowly she had to wonder if the octogenarian driving the car was in fact pedaling.
"Hey, following distance!" Xochitl remarked. "But wasn't there some bill that prohibits local government from interfering with veterinarians? We studied that in my pre-law class." Xochitl took a paper napkin from her vest pocket.
"Right," Lucy agreed. "So then it turns out the declawing doctor was a vet, not a people doctor." Lucy swiftly pulled around the Jag and scooted into the left turn lane at Sunset Boulevard. An annoyed honk sounded from the Jag.
"Hanna said both PETA and the ACLU got on the doc when he opened his clinic specializing in 'Hound Accommodations.'" Lucy drained her coffee. "Somebody firebombed the clinic Halloween night. End of story."
Xochitl whistled between her teeth. "Guess Jimmy's dad isn't up on the latest developments."
"Hanna said to let the Stantons cool off for a few days. She'll call next week and offer long-term boarding for Jimmy."
"By the way, Hanna says 'hi!'" Lucy said innocently as they waited at the long light.
"Doubt it," Xochitl said and checked the time. "Sometimes I think Hanna forgets I exist."
"Doesn't forget to pay you." Lucy winked.
The light changed, and Lucy instantly blew past the corner liquor store. "So, where's my croissant?"
"I always liked that place." Xochitl pointed at a pizza parlor with a large open front and sidewalk seating.
"Pizza would be great right now." Lucy salivated. "So, where's that croissant."
"No croissant. Driving, 'member?" Xochitl looked wistfully at the pizza parlor. "We'd get the best 2:00 A.M. pizza over there after hitting the Sunset clubs."
"2:00 A.M. pizza?" Lucy smirked. "I thought you were this serious goody-goody with your fancy scholarship in your fancy UCLA days. You partied on Sunset?"
"Well, you can't study all the damn time when the Sunset Strip is your backyard." Xochitl grimaced. "Second quarter was crazy fun. So, I repeated a class or two," she said with no trace of regret. "I made the Dean's List my third quarter. And then, well, you know the rest. Dad got sick. Adiós La Uni. Hola cantina."
Lucy turned onto Doheny Road, passing the Hamburger Hamlet and Sierra Towers before winding up Loma Vista Drive. "Sorry you didn't get a chance to finish," she said to her friend. Xochitl nodded. "Shit happens," they said in unison and started laughing.
Greystone Mansion sat nestled in the verdant hills above Sunset Boulevard, blocked fr
om sight by gated estates and high stone walls that reminded Lucy uncomfortably of Folsom State Prison.
From Greystone Chapel in Folsom Prison to Greystone Mansion in Beverly Hills in less than two years. I'm movin' on up.
Steering El Gallo up the long, curving driveway, Lucy couldn't look on the stunning estate without being impressed by its beauty and grandeur. The layout of the big square main building included several wings, many of which were topped by orange brick chimneys. The bulk of the manor seemed to have a limestone façade, with some of the grey stone that gave the estate its name making up the walls and many levels of the gardens.
Lucy remembered glancing at the brochure sent by the Beverly Hills Chamber of Commerce when they booked "The Werewolf Whisperer" for their annual Family and Wellbeing Expo.
"What does it say?" she asked Xochitl who had her nose buried in the booklet.
"Just a sec." Xochitl stopped flipping through the pages and stared out at the estate sprawling before them. "Sorry, I'm just amazed. I went to La Uni right up the street. Never knew this was here." She shuffled back to the beginning of the book.
"Estate belonged to Edward Doheny, a 19th century oil man. Bad things happened. His son was murdered on the property." Xochitl looked over at Lucy and made a face.
"Crap. That sucks." Lucy shook her head with dismay. "Bad things come knocking whether you live in a castle or a shack."
"Anyway..." Xochi continued. "Tudor revival...eighteen acres...stables. You'll like this. Kennels...tennis court, bowling alley, gatehouse, pavilion, greenhouse, lake, waterfalls. Blah, blah, blah. Gorgeous." Xochitl shut the brochure. "What more do you need to know?"
Lucy smiled at Xochitl's exaggerated brusqueness. She could tell the opulent charm of Greystone was not lost on Xochitl; she just refused to make a big deal about it.
Lucy pulled up to the valet stand at the front of the large upper parking lot.
"Hi, we're here for the event. Lucy Lowell and Xochitl Magaña." She smiled broadly. "I have to keep my keys, boss."
The young valet's eyes got a little bigger at that request. He seemed to weigh his options, and then chose to go with the authoritative and unyielding approach.
"I'm sorry, ladies. We park all the cars today. Greystone Mansion requires—" He would have gone on if Xochitl hadn't leaned over from the passenger seat and looked right into his eyes.
"This, my young friend, is not a car. This is a 1966 Olds Toronado in mint condition. The original fly ass ride. His name is El Gallo." She reached into her vest pocket and pulled out a business card. "And this lady is Lucy Lowell, The Werewolf Whisperer." Xochitl settled into her seat again as if there was nothing else to say on the subject.
The valet's bravado turned to confusion. He looked at the business card.
"I can't let you have the keys, boss," Lucy said again, shrugging as if the decision was out of her hands, which it sort of was.
El Gallo was loaded down with a number of special "toys" — as Xochitl liked to call their collection of knives and firearms. Giving the keys to a stranger was out of the question.
"Call Mr. Soroush from the Chamber if you have any questions," Lucy suggested. "In the meantime, why don't I just park it somewhere. The line behind us must be getting long. This isn't worth holding anyone up." She indicated to the two identical Mercedes SUVs that had pulled up behind her during their last few sentences. "You know how people around here can be."
Looking like he'd rather be anywhere else, the valet made a decisive arm gesture, directing Lucy to pull El Gallo to the edge of the lot.
"Good boy," Xochitl mumbled.
Lucy backed El Gallo into the parking spot a little more rapidly than Xochitl would have liked, judging by the small squeak she let out when the back tires bumped against the curb.
"Easier to get out later." Lucy tried to appease her and grabbed the box of dog toys and the package of blue Werewolf Whisperer slip leads from the backseat. Xochitl flipped Lucy the bird.
Elaborately fabricated pavilion booths lined the area, creating a miniature maze of temporary Hound-centric shops. Hound treats, Hound leashes, Hound clothing, Hound beds, Hound food, Hound toys; there was no end to the creativity of the offerings, though Lucy suspected many of the articles "specifically designed" for Hounds were in fact repurposed dog items.
Mr. Soroush, head of the Beverly Hills Chamber of Commerce, met them at the massive, double-tiered fountain set toward the back of the formal garden. Lucy had never seen such a perfectly manicured lawn — lush, greener than green and wreathed by a myriad of white roses on a second tier slate walkway just a step up from the grass. The cascading fountain looked like something from Greek mythology.
Oh, pretty.
Mr. Soroush smiled beatifically and greeted Lucy and Xochitl as if he'd known them for years. A photographer jumped out from behind a group of volunteers and snapped pictures of Soroush and Lucy shaking hands. Clearly photo-ready, Soroush's grey curls had been brushed back into a kind of helmet. Standing close, Lucy even detected a touch of powder on the man's face. Lucy wondered if her own stick-straight copper streaked hair would look flat in the pictures. She'd grown it out to her shoulders but hadn't had it shaped since the prison barber had buzzed it.
"Can that fountain be turned off?" Xochitl asked after listening to Soroush drone on about his involvement in the charitable Beverly Hills Chamber Expo. "People should be able to hear Lucy during the presentation."
Mr. Soroush was obviously used to people being enchanted by a visit to Greystone and unquestionably believed himself to be charming and attractive to the ladies, judging by his meticulous grooming and expensive looking suit. Xochitl's matter-of-fact request — while perfectly reasonable — appeared to cause him some discomfort.
"We can turn the fountain off when you start your class." He forced a smile.
"Great, thanks." Xochitl nodded and then continued in one breath. "But before we start, you know we only take cash." She looked at the man calmly. "Up front."
Lucy cocked her head at the spontaneous change to their payment policy, but remembering how close she'd been to leaving the Stantons without collecting payment, couldn't argue.
"Cash, of course...I just need to..." Annoyed, Mr. Soroush struggled with his cell phone. "My assistant Nicolette will be with you in a second." Soroush waved his arms as if performing semaphore and caught the attention of a young woman directing volunteers to the courtyard. She carefully made her way down the stone stairs and crossed the lawn with measured steps.
The thin woman looked very young despite her constricting pencil skirt and sky high Louboutins, which Lucy recognized by their red soles.
"Hey look, Xochitl. Louboutins," Lucy said, eager to prove that she had in fact retained Xochitl's fashion 411.
"Good girl," Xochi replied. "You're not a total lost cause."
Mr. Soroush's assistant's dark hair was piled on her head in a gravity-defying chignon, and the beads of her tailored jacket sparkled in the sun. She moved with confidence and grace, swooping next to Mr. Soroush as if she were the boss instead of the assistant.
"Let me introduce Nicolette Artashesian, my right arm," Mr. Soroush said and leaned toward Nicolette, placing a familiar hand on her tiny waist. "Nicolette, please make sure our Werewolf Whisperer can start on time." He nodded toward Lucy and Xochitl and then excused himself.
"Creepy old man," Nicolette said before Lucy could be sure Soroush was out of earshot. A smile played across Nicolette's full lips. "I know what you're thinking."
Lucy dug through the box of dog toys, pulling out a can of brand new tennis balls. She tried hard not to think anything.
"He's okay." Nicolette handed Xochitl an envelope of cash. "But, I wanted to ask you something." She bit her lip. "My boyfriend came down with...you know. His whole family rejected him, and he's been living with me for a few months now." She searched Xochitl's face for sympathy.
"What are you asking?" Xochitl counted the bills in the envelope, seemingly giving Nicolette onl
y a fraction of her attention until she was satisfied the entire amount was there.
"He's so...I mean, he looks so...Is he still my boyfriend, or do I treat him more like, you know, a pet?" Saying it out loud made the girl looked very vulnerable and suddenly unsure of herself.
Lucy straightened up, changing places with Xochitl who by the look on her face was letting her imagination get the better of her.
"Before all of this KV business," Lucy said, keeping her voice low, "would you have wondered if your dog was your pet or your boyfriend?"
Nicolette's paradigm shifted visibly, and she took a step back, mortified. "Of course not!"
"I'm sorry. It's no different," Lucy said. "Your boyfriend, the man he was, is gone. If you want to keep taking care of him, you have to make that distinction clear in your mind."
Nicolette nodded once, recovering her confident grace.
"Book Stew is setting up for the book signing up there." She shifted to business mode seamlessly and shuffled through her portfolio. "The owner brought a couple of crates full of pre-sales for you to sign." Nicolette pointed to a tall man with Civil War-era sideburns. He stood by a long table covered with a white tablecloth and decorated with Book Stew signage.
Two volunteers fiddled with folding chairs behind the table.
"Book Stew?" Xochitl strode over to the tall man, who was now testing a number of ink pens on a yellow pad. Lucy followed, untangling the knot of slip leads Xochitl had thrown at her.
"Book Stew. That's me." The man pointed to the name tag stuck to his navy T-shirt.
"Hello my name is Stew," Xochitl read out loud. "Okay. Hello, my name is Xochitl. This is Lucy. Nice to meet you. Can we get started?" She pointed to the people lining up at the edge of the grass.
"Let's do it now, if you're ready." Stew smiled a goofy smile at both Xochitl and Lucy.
"Born ready," Lucy said, slipped behind the table, took a copy of Hounds, and Ferals, and Werebeasts! Oh, My! and wrote her name on the title page, leaving a looping ampersand and room for Xochitl's name. Xochitl breathed out sharply through her nose, but Lucy could tell she was pleased.
"You have to write more than your name, you know," Xochitl teased.
The Werewolf Whisperer (The Werewolf Whisperer Series Book 1) Page 4
