by Paige Sleuth
“Hmm.” Picturing the scene in her head, Kat had to admit it didn’t look good for Dr. Mark.
Ivy stiffened, as though she could read Kat’s mind. “But he didn’t do it. The police are only targeting him because they think he’s an easy scapegoat.”
“Who do you think killed Xander?” Kat asked.
“Like I said before, it could have been anybody. The back door was propped wide open.”
“It was?”
“Yup. Any Tom, Dick, or Harry could have strolled inside and found Xander with that syringe ready and waiting.”
Kat’s gaze drifted to the metal, windowless door sporting the words ‘Ritter Veterinary’ and the practice’s logo of a cat silhouette. It had been closed and cordoned off with yellow crime scene tape, but that didn’t stop Kat from imagining the chilling scene being processed on the other side.
“You don’t keep the back door locked?” she asked.
“It locks automatically, but it’s possible someone didn’t pull it completely closed.” Ivy seemed distracted as she set her hands on her knees and twisted her torso sideways. “Hey, Spock is under that Dumpster there.”
Kat crouched down to get a better look. Sure enough, a brown tabby cat had taken refuge in the shadows underneath the garbage bin. He watched them with bright, yellow eyes.
“Here, Spock.” Ivy extended her hand. “Come on out of there.”
Spock wrapped his tail around his body, making it quite clear he didn’t plan on going anywhere.
Ivy sighed. “Spock doesn’t like me.”
“Why’s that?”
“He only ever sees me here. I’m pretty sure he thinks I enjoy sticking him with all those needles.”
When she put it that way, Kat couldn’t blame the feline for refusing to budge.
Kat looked around, wondering how many other animals from Ritter Veterinary were out here hiding from Ivy.
More importantly, who had let them out?
CHAPTER THREE
After Ivy wandered off to chase after a runaway dog, Kat managed to coax Spock out from under the Dumpster. In the sunlight, she could see his coloring was really quite fetching. His white chest and underbelly reminded her of a penguin, and the brown stripes decorating his face and the rest of his body were so sharp they looked to have been painted on.
He started purring as soon as Kat touched him. She stroked him for a minute before he relaxed enough for her to hook her fingers under his chest and lift him up. He snuggled against her body, and Kat got the sense he was grateful for the protection. He obviously wasn’t a cat who spent a lot of time outdoors.
The brunette Kat had seen earlier came into view. She looked to be around Kat’s age, in her early thirties. A tiny, golden Pomeranian trotted ahead of her. Kat presumed the dog was the animal she had witnessed streaking through the parking lot earlier, except now he had a leash attached to his collar. The little dog held his head high, as if he were the one leading this walk.
The brunette stopped when she spotted Kat. “Is that one of our cats?”
Kat gave the tabby’s chin a scratch. “Ivy said his name is Spock.”
The Pomeranian barked as though to introduce himself. But Spock wasn’t feeling nearly so friendly. Kat felt him stiffen in her arms as he pinned his ears to his skull and let out a hiss.
“I thought he looked familiar.” The brunette studied Kat. “I don’t remember you though.”
“I’m not his owner. I came here with Maura O’Malley.”
“Oh, right. Stumpy’s mom.”
“Yes.” Kat cocked her head, prompting the Pomeranian to do the same. “Do you work here?”
“I’m the receptionist. I just started a couple months ago.”
“That would explain why we haven’t met yet.” At the brunette’s puzzled look, Kat added, “I’m the Furry Friends Foster Families treasurer. We’re an animal rescue, so at some point I’m sure our paths will cross.”
The brunette snapped her fingers. “Oh, right, 4F. We have one of your cats here now.”
Kat nodded. “Clementine.”
Clementine was a beautiful Himalayan cat someone had noticed cowering beneath a bush in a local park the day before. Kat had been working when he was found, but Imogene Little, the 4F president, had notified her of the situation and texted her a picture of the animal. Even in the grainy photo Kat could make out the fear in Clementine’s eyes and the tangles in her long, chocolate-tinged fur. But Imogene’s most pressing concern had been how disoriented the cat had seemed. Luckily, Dr. Mark thought she was merely dehydrated. The feline had been left overnight at Ritter Veterinary with an IV to get some fluids back into her system.
“How’s Clem doing?” Kat asked.
“Okay, I think. She might have been scheduled to go home tomorrow but I’m not sure.”
“I’ll find out from Imogene. I’m Kat Harper, by the way.”
“Winona Oren.” Winona looked around. “Where did Ivy go? I saw her with you a second ago.”
“Spock didn’t want to have anything to do with her, so she went to hunt down some of the other escapees.”
“She sure was making a big stink about Dr. Mark,” Winona said.
“She’s convinced he’s innocent.” Kat paused, realizing this would be a prime opportunity to get another Ritter Veterinary employee’s take on the murder. “What about you? Do you think Dr. Mark could have killed Xander?”
Winona shrugged. “I don’t see why not. He’s familiar with the medications here and has access to all the euthanasia drugs. But it could just as easily have been Ivy.”
“Why Ivy?”
“You saw how emotional she is. Somebody like that is liable to snap. Plus, I think she was jealous of Xander.”
“Yeah?” Kat stroked Spock, hoping she didn’t look too eager to hear more.
“Xander was Dr. Mark’s right-hand man. He’d been here longer than any of us, and it drove Ivy nuts that Dr. Mark relied on him more than he did her.”
Kat considered that. Ivy had been rather adamant that Dr. Mark hadn’t murdered Xander. Was she so sure because she was the real killer? But if she were guilty, why protest so much about the police taking Dr. Mark in for questioning? Wouldn’t she welcome any opportunity to cast suspicion on someone other than her?
“But I’ll tell you,” Winona went on, “I’m not yet convinced Dr. Mark didn’t kill Xander himself. He looked pretty scary standing there with that syringe in his hand.”
“That’s how you found him?”
“Yup. They were in the back room where Dr. Mark keeps the animal drugs. It gave me quite a fright to see him like that. That’s when I rushed up front and called 9-1-1.”
“Did you see anything else unusual?”
“No. Why?”
“Ivy said the back door was open, that perhaps the killer came in that way. I thought maybe you saw somebody or a car or something.”
Winona frowned. “I don’t remember the back door being open.”
Kat looked at Spock nestled in her arms. “Isn’t that how the animals escaped?”
“Huh. I guess so.”
From Winona’s bemused tone, it seemed as though this might be the first time she were putting together a connection between the open door and the runaway animals. In light of what had happened to her coworker, it wasn’t surprising that she might be more focused on whodunit than on the logistics of how the animals had gotten out.
“Where were you when Xander was killed?” Kat asked.
“Behind the reception desk talking to a client of ours. Mr. Pedapudi. Do you know him?”
Kat shook her head. “Can’t say I do.”
“Count yourself lucky. He’s a real pain in the rear end.”
“Ivy said he was upset about his bill.”
“Yeah, he got a duplicate invoice by mistake. But instead of just accepting our apology he started going on and on about how Dr. Mark was trying to rip him off and how he didn’t do a thing for Fritz the last time he brought him in.”
<
br /> “I take it Fritz is Mr. Pedapudi’s pet,” Kat said.
Winona nodded. “His cat. Fritz had started turning his nose up at his regular food, but I guess Dr. Mark couldn’t find anything wrong with him. According to his file, Mr. Pedapudi was advised to try some different brands and flavors of food to see how Fritz responded. I’ve heard Dr. Mark say sometimes it’s just a matter of mixing up a cat’s diet to get them interested in eating again. If that doesn’t work he refers the animal to a specialist.”
“Given how finicky cats can be, that seems like a sound recommendation,” Kat said, thinking of her own cat Tom. Tom only deigned to eat certain flavors of wet food, as she had discovered fairly quickly after adopting him ten months ago. He hadn’t been with her more than two weeks before he’d made it abundantly clear he would rather starve than have a shrimp touch his lips.
“Unfortunately, Mr. Pedapudi didn’t think so,” Winona said. “He was yelling about how expensive our services are and insisted he talk to Dr. Mark. So I went to go get him. That’s when I saw him standing over Xander’s body with that syringe in his hand.”
Kat shivered despite the day’s warmth. “That must have been awful for you.”
“It was.” Winona rubbed her thumb against the leash, looking pensive. “Come to think of it, I don’t remember seeing Mr. Pedapudi after that.”
“What do you mean?”
“After I found out Xander was dead I forgot all about Mr. Pedapudi. I think he was here when I called 9-1-1, but he must have left as soon as he heard about Xander and deduced that Dr. Mark wouldn’t be talking to him anytime soon. He was gone by the time the police arrived.”
The hairs on the back of Kat’s neck stood on end as her eyes moved toward the building’s rear entrance. Could Mr. Pedapudi have been the person to leave that door open? But if he had killed Xander, why would he have gone inside afterward to complain about his bill? Wouldn’t he have simply fled the scene?
Unless someone had spotted him and he had needed to pretend to be on the premises for another reason. Maybe he had been ready to run when another client had driven up. Then, desperate for an excuse to be at the clinic that didn’t involve murder, he had ducked into the lobby and caused a scene to make sure everyone knew he was there and why.
“Winona,” Kat said, her heart beating a little faster, “do you think Mr. Pedapudi could have killed Xander?”
“Could be. He certainly has a temper. Hey.” Winona shaded her eyes with her leash-free hand. “I think that’s one of our dogs over there.”
Kat spotted the copper-colored mutt just as he lifted his leg to the side of the building.
The Pomeranian raced forward, pulling the leash taut and nearly sending Winona crashing headlong onto the pavement. He let loose a series of sharp yips as though to scold his brethren for such a shameful display of public urination.
The mutt slunk back around the corner, his tail between his legs. Watching him, Kat couldn’t help but wonder if he was following the exact escape path a killer had taken earlier that afternoon.
CHAPTER FOUR
After all the Ritter Veterinary animals were secure and accounted for, Andrew dropped Kat off at the DataRightly building before continuing on to the police station to talk to Dr. Mark. Kat had tried to get him to discuss the case during the drive, but he had remained tight-lipped. She wasn’t surprised. Despite how she seemed to find herself embroiled in crime with unnerving regularity, Andrew didn’t like to discuss police business with her.
She climbed into her own car and drove to the Cherry Hills Food Mart. The grocery store was an easy walk from her apartment, but her work shoes weren’t the most comfortable and popping upstairs to change meant having to face Matty and Tom and their demands for dinner. They wouldn’t be happy to find out their evening meal would be delayed tonight. They were out of wet food, the whole reason for Kat’s trip to the grocery store in the first place.
Another man was already in the pet food aisle. He stared at the vast display of cat food that stretched across several shelves, looking overwhelmed by the selection.
“Excuse me,” Kat said, reaching around him to grab several cans of whitefish pâté.
The man watched her with interested brown eyes. “Your cat likes that one?”
“They both do.” Kat tossed the cans into her handbasket. “It’s one of their favorites.”
“And it’s two cents cheaper than these other ones here.”
Likely in his sixties, the man had dark skin, rich black hair, and a thin frame. When Kat realized he was Asian Indian, she straightened with a start. Could this be Mr. Pedapudi?
“Your cat doesn’t happen to be Fritz, does he?” she asked.
The man’s head jerked back. “Yes, he does. How did you know?”
“I was at Dr. Mark’s veterinary clinic earlier. I heard you were too.”
He squinted at her. “Are you with the police? Did they send you to locate me?”
“No. But I do find it strange that you didn’t stick around after you found out someone had been murdered in the back room.”
Instead of replying, the man took two giant steps away from her and picked up a bag of kibble. Turning it around, he scrutinized the nutritional label as if he’d never seen anything so fascinating.
Kat stepped in front of him. “Mr. Pedapudi.” She let a pause elapse in case she’d gotten his name wrong. When he didn’t correct her she continued. “You really should talk to the authorities. I’m sure they want to hear your take on things.”
“For somebody who claims not to be affiliated with the police, you sure do seem invested in their business,” he said, his voice tight.
“A man was killed just down the block. Doesn’t that bother you?”
“I do not dwell on things over which I have no control.” He returned the cat food bag to the shelf and regarded her. “But you, you’ve obviously lived in America your whole life and believe it is your duty to have a reaction to everything that happens in the world.”
Kat firmed her grip on her shopping basket. She wasn’t sure if she had just been insulted, but it didn’t sound as though Mr. Pedapudi was trying to pay her a compliment.
“I’m not surprised you’ve taken to adopting this country’s narrow-minded ideals,” Mr. Pedapudi continued. “You Americans view death as a curse. Your society treats it as something to be avoided at all costs. But let me tell you, death can be a blessing.”
“That may be true under certain circumstances, but Xander didn’t die from a long, painful illness. He was murdered.”
“Even so. He is at peace now.”
Kat didn’t know how to respond to that. It struck her as something a person might say if they were trying to ease their own guilty conscience. And the way Mr. Pedapudi was carrying on, maybe he really was the person who had killed Xander.
“Why didn’t you stick around to talk to the police?” Kat asked.
“I didn’t see the point, and I know how your government organizations can be. They think nothing of wasting everyone’s time with their maddening inefficiencies, nonsensical laws, and endless regulations.”
“I wouldn’t call helping the authorities solve a murder a waste of time.”
“I would agree with you if I had something to tell them. However, I assure you that in this case I don’t have anything to share.”
“So you don’t know who might have wanted to harm Xander Holliwell?”
“No.”
“I heard you were upset over how Ritter Veterinary handled your concerns about Fritz’s recent appetite loss,” Kat commented.
Mr. Pedapudi’s face reddened. “Who told you that?”
“I overheard it while I was at Dr. Mark’s.”
“Are they revealing confidential information about their clients?” He planted his palms on his slim hips. “Don’t they know that’s a violation of HIPAA laws?”
For someone who had been complaining about government laws and regulations not two seconds ago, he certainly seemed
interested in them now. “I don’t think health care privacy laws apply to felines,” Kat said.
“Be that as it may, but I must say I’m disappointed in Ritter Veterinary’s lack of discretion. After that fiasco with my bill the least they could do is keep my private matters private. Oh, but for all their blabbering I bet they didn’t say anything about their screwup, did they? About how they sent me an invoice I had already paid?”
“Actually, they did mention that.”
“I’m surprised. It seems all they want to do down there is cast blame. There must have been a glitch in our database,” he mimicked in a falsetto. “We’re so terribly sorry for the inconvenience.”
“I’m sure they were sorry,” Kat said.
He scoffed. “Of course they were sorry—sorry I didn’t fall for their tricks.”
“Were they at least able to fix things?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but once I showed Winona my receipt she took care of the mistake posthaste. Of course, she had no choice. My receipt clearly indicated I’d paid them the full amount due after Fritz’s appointment last week. It’s a darn good thing I saved it too. Since I gave them cash that receipt was the only record of my payment in existence.”
It seemed to Kat as though Mr. Pedapudi could have resolved his issue with a simple phone call or email. His decision to stop by the practice in person made her think again of that open back door and whether his real motive for going down there might be more sinister than he was admitting.
Mr. Pedapudi regarded her. “You probably think I’m terribly old-fashioned paying cash for everything.”
Figuring he wouldn’t appreciate what she had really been thinking, Kat merely shrugged.
He wagged his finger in her face. “I’ll tell you, I hear too many stories about credit cards these days. Only a fool would use them. Oh, they try to lure you in with their rewards points and their sign-up bonuses, but they’re all trouble. Just the other day I was reading an article on those skimming devices crooks are using now. They’re everywhere. Gas pumps, ATM machines, restaurants. You can’t avoid them.”
