It took me a moment to figure out that “our original conversation” meant her warning to me about my friend, Beverly. I sat in my car, checked my phone messages, and returned calls for a few minutes. If what Paige had told me was true, that explained why Cheshire seemed to act so drugged-out whenever her husband was there to witness her behavior around other people. Ty’s lawsuit never had a chance of succeeding, though, because Chesh had dropped her ruse every time he wasn’t present.
But some of Paige’s assertions made no sense. Beverly Wood would never send me to work with a dog owner who’d brought a spurious lawsuit against her. She would have known that he could have found some cause to sue me, as well. And, once again, Ty Bellingham wouldn’t have said, “I’m suing you, but I’ll happily hire a friend of yours to work with my dog.”
Still, what reason would Paige have had to lie to me about this? Whether or not someone had an active lawsuit against them would be an easy thing to check. Not that I knew how to go about doing so—but I could always call a lawyer friend to ask how.
For the sake of our friendship, I needed to sit down with Beverly and have a long chat. My desire to learn what had happened to Ty’s adopted pit bull had fallen by the wayside during my conversation with Paige, and I decided to let the issue wait. Right now, I desperately wanted to see Russell Greene and remind myself what it was like to be with a nice, normal human being. Even if that particular nice normal human didn’t want anything to do with me.
I headed off for my office, wondering what I’d say to Russ when I saw him. If a little time had brought him back to his senses, he’d be chagrinned at his own pouting and his stubbornness, and we’d be able to chalk this one up to experience and move on. There was probably a change or two that could be made in my behavior, too, but it was much easier to see what Russell needed to do.
Russell was one of the finest human beings I’d ever met. He wasn’t dashing or adventurous, but steady, loyal, and amazing. I would never forget how he tried to act as my shield when my desperate attempts to save Sage’s life had put me in a collision course with a murderer. Russell had done so even before we were officially dating. He was everything I’d ever wanted in a man…with the exception of our lack of some key common interests.
But, so what if I loved animals and he was afraid of them? So what if he had a passion for rock climbing that I can’t begin to understand? Nobody ever said love was supposed to come in a perfect package. He could go off and climb his rocks while I went off to run my dogs.
I reached my office on Mapleton in downtown Boulder. I parked, my heart thumping in nervous anticipation as I spotted his car in the space beside mine. He’d gotten into the habit of working on Sundays, claiming that he could get more work done then because his phone wasn’t always interrupting him. I never called him out on the matter, but had noticed that his working Sundays only began once we started dating, after he’d seen how busy my weekends were with work.
Our offices were on Broadway, in a semi-basement—”semi” because the building was partially carved into Mapleton hill. His office had a view of our cars’ tires; my office, which he had to pass through to en route to his office, had a view of passing pedestrians’ ankles.
I trotted down the steps and into my office and was greeted by the sweet fragrance of flowers. On my desk sat a vase filled with a dozen long-stemmed red roses. There was something about a gift of roses that immediately made me feel like Audrey Hepburn. When she was alive, that is. I glanced over at Russell’s door. It was closed, which was somewhat unusual. He only closes it when one of us has noisy, barking customers.
Next to the sweet-smelling roses was a small card that read: I’m sorry. I acted like a jerk. Please forgive me, Love, Russell.
Pocketing his note, I rushed over to his door and knocked. He opened it and we stood there smiling at each other for a moment. Together we must have looked like a couple of overgrown children on Christmas morning. Wounded overgrown children, that is, for Russell’s upper body was in a nasty-looking sling that kept his upper right arm pressed against his side, and my left hand was still in its impressive bandages.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I was being a jerk. Do you forgive me?”
“I’m sorry, too. I think we both said some things we didn’t mean.”
He said nothing, simply caressed my cheek with his unencumbered hand. “Rules are meant to be broken,” he murmured, referring to our no-fondling-etc. policy. For obvious reasons with regards to a couple with occasional drop-in clients, we’d decided on a strict no-kissing-and-so-forth policy while we’re in our offices. He kissed me gently. I felt distracted by not knowing where to put my own hands for fear of aggravating his injury, and we cut the kiss short.
Though I knew it wasn’t the romantic statement the situation called for, I couldn’t help but ask, “Is that sling as uncomfortable as it looks?”
“Yes, but at least I can take it off whenever the need arises.” Russell returned to his chair, which was sitting suspiciously close to the door, as if he’d wheeled it over there to listen for my reaction to his flowers. “Is today going any better for you than yesterday?”
I pondered the question. Yesterday I had been attacked by a wolf, saw a gruesome murder scene, and argued with Russell. Today I’d been given reason to suspect my friend was guilty of that murder. Also, though, Russell had given me flowers. “Yeah, it’s a little better.”
“Good.”
We both turned at the sound of the squeak my door makes when it’s opened. It was just enough noise for me to hear most of the time but not so loud as to agitate a nervous canine. “Somebody’s just entered my office. I’ll see you later.”
He gave me a wink and a smile and gingerly began typing on his computer keyboard. Watching him, my cheeks warmed and my heart felt as though it were doing some sort of tap dance. I wished yesterday had never happened—that I could have just said yes and spent the rest of the day with him.
I leaned through Russell’s door to announce my presence.
To my surprise, it was Damian Hesk, the illustrious wolf owner. He looked, well, gorgeous in his tight-fitting jeans, loafers, and a green-and-brown plaid short sleeved shirt, the top two buttons open. Seen in the daylight, he had a fabulous physique, and his blond hair looked newly washed.
I started to shut Russell’s door behind me, but he called, “Leave it open, Allida. It’s getting a little stuffy in here.”
“Allida?” Damian said, smiling slowly. He was standing with his hands in his back pockets, a step from the exit.
“Yes, hi, Damian. Come on in.” I smiled, but inwardly felt like an idiot for noticing how attractive he was. Just an instant ago I’d been admiring Russell. I made a mental note to check my breakfast cereal’s ingredients for Spanish fly.
“I got your business address from the directory.” Damian seemed to have an interest in looking everywhere but directly at me. My office really wasn’t all that interesting—the standard-issue filing cabinets, desk, chairs. It was strange how forceful and self-assured he’d been yesterday in dealing with the catastrophe, and how he seemed a little nervous now. Maybe he was the type who was only comfortable when he was outdoors. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior last night.”
“Oh, you don’t have to apologize.”
“Yes, I do. Good God. I made you crawl through a dog door and caused you to get bitten by my wolf.” His eyes finally met mine. His were very attractive dark brown, despite the blond hair. “I was just…so determined to get Atla out of there, I couldn’t think straight.”
Behind me, Russell cleared his throat. I turned and saw that Russell had followed me and was now standing in his doorway. “Hi, uh, sorry to interrupt, but I couldn’t help overhearing.” He furrowed his brow and studied Damian. “Did you just say that you were responsible for Allida’s getting bitten?”
Well, if “true love” meant having schizophrenic mood swings, I was in love, because I immediately bristled at Russell’s having interrupted some
one giving me a private apology. Nonetheless, my upbringing took hold and I opted to introduce the two men. “Russell Greene, this is Damian Hesk. Damian owns the wolf.”
“He owns the wild animal that viciously attacked you and killed your client?”
“Russell, that’s—”
“Nice to meet you,” Russell said, ignoring me. Despite the sling that his right arm was in, he started to extend his hand toward Damian, then winced. “You’ll have to excuse me for not shaking hands.”
“Quite all right.” Damian straightened his shoulders. He probably outweighed Russell and me combined, yet he was perfectly fit. He turned his gaze to me. “Anyway, Allida, I realize I was out of line yesterday. I don’t let my wolves into Boulder neighborhoods, and I’m completely opposed to suburbanites owning wolf hybrids. If I’d had any idea what my employee was doing behind my back, I’d have fired him on the spot. Maybe, if I’d caught on to him sooner, none of this would have happened.”
“What did Larry Cunriff have to say for himself?” I asked.
A flicker of anger passed across Damian’s handsome features. “Nothing. I can’t find the guy.”
“He’s missing?”
“Hasn’t been back to his apartment since yesterday, so far as I can tell.”
I had the feeling that Russell was glowering behind me, but ignored it and asked, “Is that unusual? Did you notify the police?”
“No, and yes. It’s not at all unlike Larry to disappear for a few days without telling anyone. But I did talk to the police about it, just because somebody had to have gotten Atla out of her cage last night, and if it was Larry, he’s partly responsibility for a man’s death.”
My conscience gnawed at me. Damian apparently still believed his wolf had killed Ty Bellingham, but the police had asked me not to refute that for the time being. I said nothing, merely nodded.
“I’d better be going.” He looked past my shoulder. “It was nice to meet you, Russell. And again, Allida, I truly am sorry. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to make it up to you.”
“Could you possibly give me a tour of your facilities sometime?” I blurted out.
He smiled. “Anytime.” He reached into his back pocket, grabbed his wallet, and gave me his business card. “Just call. I’ll introduce you to my dogs, too.”
“What kind of dogs do you have?” I couldn’t help but ask, though I could feel Russell grimacing behind me.
Damian grinned. “Two black labs and four mixed breeds.”
Six dogs, plus however many exotic animals. Must be quite the menagerie. Mostly in jest, I said, “If you have any trouble handling the dogs, be sure and let me know.”
He chuckled and said, “If I do, you’ll be the first person I call. Hope to see you again soon.”
Russell had returned to his office by the time I turned around. The air had a certain electric quality to it that reminded me of how things felt just before my former fiance and I were about to erupt into a big fight. I counted to ten, trying to put myself in Russell’s place. If somebody had come into his office apologizing for urging him to crawl through a small opening with a wolf on the other side, I’d probably intrude on the conversation as well.
He was sitting at his desk, but had pushed his chair back from the keyboard when I entered his office. He didn’t look up at me. “Allida, I wish you wouldn’t flirt when I’m standing right there.”
“I wasn’t flirting!”
“At least be honest about it!” His eyes met mine, now, and they showed more hurt than anger. “You have the hots for this guy, and he’s obviously everything I’m not! There’s no way I can compete with”—he gestured in the direction Damian had gone—“the Brawny Paper Towel Man, short of joining the circus as a lion tamer.”
“Well, before you do, you might want to note that all I said was that I wanted to come see his facilities. I was talking about the animal cages. I did ask him what type of dogs he had, but that just doesn’t qualify as flirting in my line of work!”
“I heard every word you two said. I’m talking about the subtext. You’re not being honest with yourself or with me if you think that’s all that was going on. Didn’t you notice the way he…?”
Russell stopped and combed his fingers through his hair. He winced as the action caused him to move his right arm. He kicked the drawer of his desk shut with a force that knocked his lamp over and rattled the picture frame above his desk. “I hate this. I hear words coming out of my mouth, and I don’t like the guy saying them.”
He paused and searched my eyes. With a sigh, he continued, “Maybe it would be best if we stopped seeing each other for a while.”
“You want us to stop seeing each other?” I felt torn halfway between despair and fury. What was the sense in all these words we have at our disposal when I was incapable of expressing my feelings? “Then why did you give me the roses? Why did you kiss me ten minutes ago?”
“Why did you give another man all those longing gazes immediately after you kissed me? You obviously want the freedom to be with other men, so I’m making it easy for you.”
“You don’t know what I want!”
“Then tell me.”
I hesitated. My throat was tightening and I doubted I could keep my voice steady if I tried to explain. The truth was, I wanted Russell, but with Damian Hesk’s appreciation for animals. That wasn’t going to happen, and it wasn’t fair to either of us for me to wish it so. Instead of being honest, I called his bluff. “If you want to take a break, that’s fine by me.”
“I’ll keep the door shut between our offices whenever possible.”
“Good idea.”
“Good. See ya.” He shut the door.
I dropped down into my chair at my desk. The fragrant roses were making a mockery of me. In the short time since I’d left my desk, they seemed to have spread out to take every available inch of space. There was no sense in pretending to work, and I had over an hour till my first customer call was due at my office.
I decided to go to visit Cheshire Bellingham and ask about their missing pit bull. I stormed to my car, positively fuming. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, it occurred to me that none of this was the way I’d wanted or expected for the conversation with Russell to turn out.
Or was it?
Part of me wanted to know more about Damian. Was I going to deny to myself that I was both attracted to and intrigued by the man? Maybe he was every bit as decent, gentle, and loving as Russell. Or maybe he was just a handsome, shallow guy who happened to love animals. Russell was right. It wasn’t fair for me to be supposedly in an exclusive relationship with him, while secretly enticed by another man. I couldn’t be truly in love with Russell and still have all of these doubts. That didn’t mean I never would be in love with him, but I had a wandering eye that he’d picked up on. However lousy that might make me feel about myself, it was there and was undeniable.
While driving across town to Way Cool Collectibles, my spirits were sagging. I couldn’t seem to shut out my thoughts about Russell. I decided to drown them out instead and tuned in my radio to Tracy’s station.
“…that we’re devoting this show to discussing wolves…”
“Damn it, Tracy! You drive me nuts!” I hollered and banged my steering wheel. This was so typical of her. There were a lot of things I truly liked about Tracy Truett, but her tendency to exploit local news for the benefit of her ratings was definitely not one of them.
“…have any right to own wolf hybrids. This comes on the heels of all the news about a wolf mauling a Boulder man, Tyler Bellingham. I understand our next caller has quite a personal connection to the story. Hello, Janine. You’re on the air.”
“Yeah, hello, Tracy.” The woman’s voice had a deep, almost reedy quality to it. “My ex-husband, Damian, is the owner of the wolf that killed that man. I just want to say that it wasn’t the wolf’s fault, it was Damian’s.”
“You blame your ex-husband for the man’s death?” Tracy asked in incredulous t
ones.
“This whole thing was bound to happen, sooner or later. He never should have kept such a vicious animal alive in the first place.”
Chapter 10
I turned up the volume of my radio so that I wouldn’t miss a word.
“So let me get this straight, Janine,” Tracy said. “You both knew that this wolf was dangerous, yet your ex-husband insisted on keeping him?”
“That’s right. The wolf that did this, Kaia, was a vicious animal, yet Damian insisted on treating him like a poodle. He’d bring him practically everywhere he went. That’s what busted up our marriage. The wolf bit my arm one day for no reason and should have been put to sleep. Damian refused to do it.”
This had me so puzzled I pulled over rather than try to concentrate on both the conversation plus my driving. What I knew, but Janine apparently didn’t, was that Ty Bellingham’s throat had been cut with a knife, and that the wolf in question was a female named Atla, not the male named Kaia. And Kaia hadn’t struck me as “vicious.” Certainly not when compared to Doobie after Ty whipped him into attack mode.
“How did Kaia get into the victim’s house?” Tracy asked next.
“You’d have to ask Damian that question. All I know is that the man is irresponsible. Now his inactions have led to somebody’s death. My break’s over. I’ve got to get back to work.”
“Can I just—” Tracy paused. I got the feeling she was listening to a dial tone, which we in the radio audience couldn’t hear. “We’ve got to take a commercial break now. My last question to Janine would have been ’Where is the wolf that did this right now?’ For all we know, that wolf could be running around loose in Boulder. Perhaps that’s a question we will all have to worry about, next time we’re out walking the dog.”
“Jeez, Tracy!” What a load of crap! Talk about playing up to people’s fears and emotions. In a foul mood, I clicked off the radio, signaled, and pulled back into the traffic that snaked around the 29th Street Mall. I wondered idly where Janine Hesk worked, but reminded myself that locating her wasn’t my concern.
4 Woof at the Door Page 10
