“If what you told me is true, I would like some answers as much as you—perhaps even more, for my reputation is on the line—and I’ll cooperate in every way possible to help you get those answers.”
“Thank you, Mr. Glade,” Kimberly told the man. “What do you think might have happened?”
“I don’t know, but I have a pretty good idea where you should start looking. Not many people come in here on their own, as you did today, when their pet dies. Most of the final arrangements for animals are handled by veterinarians. I know this sounds crass, but it’s industry practice for them to get a referral fee. In addition, some veterinarians bill their customers directly for the burial services. When they do, they’ll often mark up our prices and pay us the net amount.
“Most veterinarians are quite honorable. But in any group of people, there is usually a bad apple or two. One man even had the audacity to point to the veterinary license hanging on his wall and tell me it was as good as having a license to steal.”
“This matter has apparently been going on for quite some time,” Michael said. “More than a hundred animals are involved. Are you telling me no one has ever wondered why their dog or cat isn’t buried where it’s supposed to be?”
Glade nodded his head. “Yes, I am. It’s a sad thing, Mr. Kaplan. People profess to love their pets. They’ll spend, as you know, up to a thousand dollars to have them laid to rest. But then they never bother to come out to visit the burial site. Not even once. I suppose, though, it isn’t much different with human beings. The last time most people visit the grave of a friend or relative is when that poor soul is planted in the ground. You didn’t see anyone else visiting today, did you?”
“No,” Kimberly admitted. “We’ve been the only ones here.”
“I have only one client who comes here regularly,” Glade told them. “She visits the grave of her dog at least once a week and always brings flowers, as you did today. But then, her animal’s burial was a little different. I’ve never had anyone else bring a clergyman to administer last rites for a pet. I suppose most members of the cloth would consider religious services for an animal to be sacrilegious. But this woman brought a rabbi with her when her poodle was laid to rest.
“Rabbi Hellmann conducted a small but very dignified service, and he shed as many tears as the woman. It was very touching. I’m not Jewish and I know next to nothing about the faith, but I wasn’t aware the Jewish religion required funerals for animals. Do you know if it does? I don’t mean to be personal, but Kaplan is a Jewish name, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I’m Jewish,” Michael stated. “And no, there’s nothing in the Torah requiring funerals for animals. But then, there’s nothing in the Torah prohibiting a funeral service for a pet, either.
“No funeral—regardless of the religion—ever helps the deceased. For the departed, it’s too late. That’s not what funerals are for. They’re to help ease the pain and suffering of the mourners. Apparently Rabbi Hellmann saw nothing wrong with helping the woman endure the loss of her dog. For that, I give him credit.”
“You’ve made a valid point, Mr. Kaplan. Now, is there anything else I can do for you?”
“No, Mr. Glade, not at this time. You’ve been most forthright and helpful. We’ll be on our way. I may need to ask you some more questions later, however.”
KIMBERLY POINTED HER PORSCHE towards town. “Well, what do you think, Michael?”
Michael laughed. “I think you should be nominated for an Academy Award, Kimberly. When we were talking about poor Spot your eyes started running and you were sniffling like you were going to burst into tears at any moment.”
“I wasn’t acting—that was for real.”
Michael looked at Kimberly. She seemed to be completely serious. “You were crying over the impending death of an imaginary dog?”
“No. Of course not, Michael. You know I have allergies. Something in Glade’s office was causing an allergic reaction.”
“I hope you’re not allergic to the red roses I bought you.”
Kimberly smiled. “No. You can buy me roses any time the mood strikes you. But—I’d better warn you about something—”
Michael raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s that?”
She looked at him with a pixieish grin. “If you keep buying me flowers and telling people I’m your wife, I’m going to start believing you really are my husband and insist on my marital rights.”
“I don’t have the slightest idea what you mean,” Michael laughed.
Kimberly was driving south on I-15. The skyline of downtown Las Vegas was straight ahead. “Do you think Glade was telling us the truth?” she asked.
Michael nodded. “Yes, I do. He seemed very sincere. We’re going to have to check further, though. The total amount of the burial fraud could be well in excess of a hundred thousand dollars, and that will definitely make a good news story.”
Kimberly spotted a highway patrol car ahead. She checked her speedometer and slowed down to sixty-five. “Are we still going to Desiderata for dinner tonight?”
“Yes. I’ve made reservations for the nine-thirty seating. We do have to make a couple more stops to make first, though. I want to go to the Royal Animal Clinic and ask Dr. Rex a few questions. Then, if it’s not too late, I’d like to drop by the office of a friend of mine, Bill Dover. He’s a surveyor. I want him to take a look at the wooden map we found.
“There are a lot of numbers written on the map—degrees of latitude and longitude, I suppose, and what appears to be a metes and bounds description of the mine boundaries. I’m hoping Bill will be able to interpret the figures and pinpoint exactly where the Lost Doberman Mine is located.”
“What are we going to do about the gold ingots?”
“They’re safe in the bottom of your closet. I think that’s where they should stay for now.”
Eighteen
THE PLATE GLASS WINDOW on the front of Royal Animal Clinic had been replaced, and there was no sign of the break-in that occurred a few days earlier. Dr. Royal was between patients and busying himself by taking an inventory of the bags of kibble, cases of canned food, vitamins, and other nutritional items he stocked as a convenience for his customers. When he heard the little brass bell tinkle at the entrance door, the veterinarian stopped his count and stepped to the front of the clinic.
“Hello, Dr. Rex,” Michael greeted the smiling doctor, with a wave of his hand. “How are you today?”
“I’m fine, Michael. And you?” Royal did not wait for an answer. “I’m hoping you’re here because you’ve recovered the Blue Goodness.”
Michael shook his head. “No. Unfortunately, nobody’s turned it in yet. I’m here on another matter.” He gestured toward the woman at his side. “Dr. Rex, I’d like you to meet Kimberly. She’s my—”
Michael was going to say “assistant,” but he didn’t get a chance to finish the introduction. The telephone rang, and Royal held up one hand to cut Michael off while he picked up the phone with his other. “Royal Animal Clinic,” he announced into the instrument. “Oh, hello, dear … Yes, I’ll be leaving on time … No, I won’t forget … I love you, too.”
After replacing the phone on the hook, Royal apologized to Michael. “Sorry for the interruption. That was my wife. We’re leaving for California right after I finish work today, and she called to remind me that she wants to get an early start because it’s a long drive. Mrs. Royal’s into horses, you know, and we’re taking two mares to a show near L.A. We’ll be gone for nearly a week, but another veterinarian will cover for me while I’m away.”
Royal shook Kimberly’s hand. “Nice to meet you,” he acknowledged tardily. Then, he turned toward Michael. “Let’s go into my office and you can tell me why you’re here today.” He led the way down the short hall and motioned for Michael and Kimberly to be seated.
Michael told Royal about the dead animals he’d found at the bottom of the mine shaft and about his talk with Forrest Glade at the Fairlawn Pet Cemetery. The veterinarian liste
ned intently without interruption while Michael was talking. When he was sure Michael had finished the story, he offered his opinion.
“Glade was right. Most likely, the dead animals were dumped into the mine by someone—probably an unscrupulous veterinarian, I’m sorry to have to admit—who charged the owners for a cemetery lot and proper burial and then pocketed the money. I’m sure he believed he would never get caught.
“You said you have some of the animals’ ID tags. Are any of them rabies tags? If so, they’ll be stamped with the name of the doctor who gave the inoculations. Of course, that doesn’t really prove anything. Someone else could have been treating the animals when they died.”
“I removed only a few of the tags,” Michael said. “It was a foul, gruesome, grisly task; the animals were badly decomposed. Most of the tags had the dog’s name, the name of its owner, and a phone number. There was one rabies tag. That dog was given its shots by Dr. Gunther Hogg. Do you know him?”
Royal’s mouth twisted in disgust. “Yes, I’m sorry to say. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Hogg turns out to be your man, Michael. I don’t know of a worse veterinarian, nor one more unprincipled. Fortunately, Hogg may not be permitted to practice here in Nevada much longer. Stewart Lamb—a very fine doctor of veterinary medicine—has filed a formal complaint against Hogg with the Veterinary Board. As a matter of fact, I read about the forthcoming hearing in your newspaper. It was part of the same article that told of Hogg’s arrest for immoral conduct with a teenaged girl. Aarrgh! What’s this world coming to, anyway?”
“Do you know what prompted Lamb to file the complaint against Hogg?” Michael asked.
“No, but I have a pretty good idea. Lamb and Hogg were planning to merge their practices. When Lamb learned how unprofessional Hogg is, he backed out of the deal. The gossip is, he became so incensed when he learned about the sloppy way Hogg operates his clinic he felt a moral—if not a legal—obligation to report him to the Board. Perhaps you should talk with Lamb. He might have actual knowledge of whether Hogg’s your culprit.”
“That’s a good idea, Dr. Rex,” Michael agreed. “Do you have Dr. Lamb’s phone number handy?”
“Yes, I do. Better yet, I’ll call Stewart right now and introduce you.” Royal picked up his telephone and punched the buttons. When Lamb came to the phone, Royal briefly outlined their suspicions before handing the receiver to Michael.
“This is Michael Kaplan, Dr. Lamb.”
Lamb was straightforward and professional. “Mr. Kaplan, I don’t have an immediate answer for you, but I think I can tell you how to find the information you need. I’m looking forward to talking with you. I want to see Hogg put out of business, and if he’s been taking his customers’ money under false pretenses, that’ll be one more nail in his coffin. When would you like to get together?” he asked.
Michael looked at his watch. It was nearly four. “Would it be possible for us to meet this afternoon?”
“I have an emergency house call to make now, but I should be back in an hour or two. Can you be at my clinic around six?”
“Yes, sir. Six will be fine. I’ll be there.”
“In case I should be delayed, I’ll leave a key in the fuse box by the back door. Please let yourself into my clinic and make yourself at home. I’d hate for you to wait outside in this heat wave.”
“That’s very considerate of you, doctor,” Michael said.
After Michael hung up the telephone, Kimberly asked him, “If we go to see Dr. Lamb, will we still have time to meet with your surveyor friend today?”
Michael mulled over her question for a minute. “There’s a way we can do both and still make our dinner reservation in plenty of time. If you’ll drive me home now, I’ll shower and get dressed for dinner, then take a cab to Lamb’s clinic. Meanwhile, you can drop the map off at Bill Dover’s office.”
“That’ll work,” Kimberly agreed. “I should even have time to do a little shopping at the Boulevard Mall before I go home to shower and change.”
“Good. If I finish with Dr. Lamb early, I’ll meet you at home. Otherwise, I’ll see you at the restaurant at nine-thirty.”
All the while Michael and Kimberly were talking, Royal’s head swiveled back and forth between them, like a spectator at a tennis match. “If that’s all settled,” he grinned, “I have a suggestion for you, Michael.”
“Certainly,” Michael said. “What is it?”
“I, uh, I don’t mean to criticize,” Royal said hesitantly. “But … Well, as I told you before, we veterinarians refer to our euthanasia solution as Blue Goodness—regardless of the brand, and, sometimes, even when it’s a different color. And that’s what you called it in your Times article. However, the name Blue Goodness doesn’t appear anywhere on the product itself, so someone may have the bottle that was stolen from me in his possession and not realize it’s the same thing you wrote about.
“I just used up the last of a bottle of Blue Goodness this afternoon. Would you like to take it with you and publish a photo of the product?” Royal handed Michael the emptied container.
Michael was embarrassed. “Thanks, Dr. Rex. I feel really stupid. As you may have gathered, I don’t have much experience as a reporter. I shouldn’t have used the term Blue Goodness in my article at all. I should have realized the euphemism—as catchy as it is—doesn’t mean a thing to anyone who isn’t a veterinarian. I’ll get the matter clarified in tomorrow’s edition.”
They shook hands and said goodbye. As Michael and Kimberly were going out the front door, Royal called to Kimberly, “It was nice meeting you today, Mrs. Kaplan.”
Kimberly waved back and smiled. Michael pretended he didn’t hear what Royal had said.
THE TAXI RIDE from Kimberly’s house to Lamb Animal Hospital on East Flamingo Road came to eight-fifty. Michael handed the driver a ten-dollar bill and told him to keep the change. He tried the front door to the clinic, but it was locked. Michael checked his watch and noted it was five minutes before six. He decided to wait until after six before letting himself in.
Still using crutches, Michael hobbled around the small strip shopping center. It was remarkably similar in appearance to the center where Royal Animal Clinic was located—a single-story building of five commercial units, with a modest-sized parking lot in front of the stores. In addition to the animal clinic, the center had a take-out restaurant that specialized in Buffalo chicken wings and pizza by the slice; a nail salon; a Mid-Eastern grocery; and a consignment clothing store. At five minutes after six, Michael went around to the back of the building and retrieved the key from the fuse box, then returned to the front of the clinic, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.
He had barely entered when he heard the door open again behind him. Expecting to see Dr. Lamb, Michael turned around, but was greeted by the sight of bright orange hair in a pixie cut.
“Michael!” Soozie exclaimed. “I thought that was you. What are you doing here?”
“I, uh, I’m still working on the lead you gave me. I have an appointment with Dr. Lamb. He said he might be a little late and left a key for me so I wouldn’t have to wait outside in the heat.” Michael didn’t know why he was giving Soozie such a detailed explanation; she certainly wasn’t entitled to it. “What are you doing here?”
“I was next door at the nail salon. I’d just broken a nail,” she pouted, and held up her hand to show Michael the repair job. The color of her polish matched the color of her hair. “I was so surprised when I happened to look out the window and saw you walk by, sweetheart. I had to come and say hello.”
Michael propped the crutches against a wall and eased onto a couch in Lamb’s waiting area. “Yeah, well, hello.”
Soozie sat down next to him. “I hope you’re not upset because of what happened at lunch today. I’m not. It didn’t bother me a bit. So your wife knows about us. So what? She’s a real bitch, sweetheart. I don’t know how you can stand living with her. If you don’t want her to give you any trouble, I guess we’re going t
o have to be more careful where we meet in the future.” She rested her hand on his leg.
Michael was in a state of shock. He’d believed the Soozie problem had been solved, but the woman was acting as if nothing that happened at lunch mattered. Michael wasn’t sure how he should play his cards now. At the luncheon charade, he had come on to Soozie very strong. If I change my posture now, she might become suspicious, thought Michael. I’ll continue to pretend to be a lecher. At least I no longer have to worry about Soozie threatening to send Myra the tape of us having sex—that powder keg has been defused.
“Uh, now that Myra knows about us, she’s going to be watching every move I make. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already hired a private detective to follow me. We’ll have to cool it for a while, Soozie. As much as I want to, we won’t be able to get together anytime soon. Myra’s too dangerous. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you because of our relationship.”
Blue Goodness (Michael Kaplan Mysteries) Page 15
