Howl Deadly

by Linda O. Johnston

  Well, I could choose the time, at least. Not too soon.

  We picked our way through the crowded, dim restaurant. Outside, we turned our tickets over to the valet and awaited delivery of our cars.

  “Thanks,” I said. “To both of you. And if you happen to think of any other leads, Althea, please let me know.”

  “I will, sweetie.” Her car was the first to come out, so she gave me a hug, tipped the attendant, and departed.

  “You know what I think this may mean, don’t you, Kendra?” Jeff asked when she’d gone.

  “No,” I said, although I was afraid I knew what he was about to say.

  “It’s not just sour grapes,” he said. “You know that I still care about you.” But you hadn’t believed in my innocence in a nasty situation a while back, I thought silently. “And I know you’re now involved with Dante DeFrancisco. He’s got everything—including a ton of money. But … well, he also founded HotWildlife. I understand he was around when this Jon Doe was killed. Not that I’m accusing him of anything.” He lifted his hands in a gesture erasing any such accusation. “But … okay, I want him to be involved somehow. Like I did when your Animal Auditions judge Sebastian was killed. But this time feels different. He may not be someone you can trust. In any event, Kendra, be careful. And remember, I’m still around.”

  “Thanks, Jeff,” I said, not revealing that I shared some of his concerns. I returned his quick kiss on the lips as my car was the next delivered.

  I had a lot to think about as I drove toward the 405 Freeway and the San Fernando Valley.

  And my mind continued to churn around our mutual questions about who Jon Doe really was and who might have killed him.

  So, I decided to call the object of my concerns. I used my hands-free car device to place a call to Dante.

  “Hi,” I said perkily when he answered. “I learned some interesting things about Jon Doe this evening from a friend who does computer research. Will you have any time tomorrow for us to get together so I can fill you in?”

  “’Fraid not, Kendra.” His voice sounded unusually grim, which got me all the more worried. But only a fraction as worried as I became at his next words. “I have to go back to HotWildlife. The sheriff’s detectives are coming back to meet with me. Maybe even to arrest me. I have the feeling that I’m now their number one suspect in the murder.”

  Chapter Eleven

  THOUGH IT WAS late, my next call from my car phone was to my dear friend and legal colleague, Esther Ickes.

  Esther had represented me when I’d required a criminal law guru. Since then, I had referred her to my friends and acquaintances who’d become suspects in the killings I had investigated.

  I’d mentioned her to Dante, and he seemed relieved at my potential referral. He had an attorney who represented him in business transactions, but no contacts in criminal defense. But one of the first things he’d asked me was “Is she discreet?”

  Which led me to believe he’d have to confess some stuff to his counsel to get the best representation possible. That he’d actually committed the killing? Something more about the mysterious stuff in his past? Both?

  And the lousy thing was that attorney-client privilege would prohibit Esther from telling all to me.

  The last time I had suspected Dante capable of murder, hardly anyone else had—except Jeff, but he had motivation of his own. This time, the authorities appeared to agree. Did that make it true?

  Not judging by my past investigation history, thank heavens. So maybe there was hope for Dante’s innocence after all.

  “Hi, Esther,” I said when she answered. “Sorry to be calling outside business hours.”

  “All hours are business hours for lawyers. You know that. Or maybe that mostly applies to criminal attorneys.” I could hear the grin in my good friend’s voice.

  Esther did not resemble the stereotype of a brilliant and nearly always successful criminal counsel. She was a gray-haired little old lady, the kind the opposition could easily dismiss as elderly, incompetent, or confused. Till they came up against her.

  Or saw her at the helm of her sporty Jaguar convertible.

  We chatted cheerily for a couple of minutes, then I asked, “So, are you up for taking on a new client?”

  “Depends.”

  “Well, it’s an interesting case. And I’m sure he can pay your most outrageous fees.”

  “Ah, I think I know what you’re talking about. I saw something on the news about a murder at HotWildlife. And I know that’s a place your new sweetie supports. But … who’s the potential client? Surely it’s not him.”

  “Surely it is,” I said with a sigh. I’d just finished my winding climb up residential roads in the Hollywood Hills, and my Escape sat waiting, as I remained in the driver’s seat, for me to push the button to open the security gate.

  “And the local authorities think that someone as astral as Dante DeFrancisco killed a lowly park employee? Why? Because the guy didn’t feed the lions on time? Or didn’t keep the place smelling clean enough?”

  “That’s the thing I don’t know, Esther,” I said after getting my finger on the right button. The gate swung open. “I’ve no idea—yet—why they’re glomming on to Dante as a major suspect. I just talked to him, and he said he’s cooperating, heading to HotWildlife tomorrow to talk to them.”

  “Before hiring a lawyer and consulting with her?” Esther sounded mightily miffed. “Didn’t you instruct him better?”

  “I tried, but he’s powerful enough to think he can handle everything himself. The only concession he made was that he’d not meet with them till the afternoon. I hate to ask, but do you have time to help on such short notice?”

  A moment’s silence, as I drove the Escape into my parking space beside my garage, and parked it.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ll make a couple of calls tonight and defer some meetings. Fortunately, I’m not scheduled for court tomorrow. But you can tell your friend Dante that my fees will include something for this inconvenience. Better yet, I’ll tell him. Give him a call and tell him to phone me right back. Tonight. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I agreed, smiling. I adored Esther’s attitude.

  And I was sure there was no one better to represent Dante in this difficult situation.

  I only hoped I wasn’t doing Esther a disservice by getting her involved in a situation where I didn’t think I had all the facts—and some truly important ones could be eluding me.

  And I also felt really irritated that, maybe as soon as tomorrow, Esther would know more about Dante’s undisclosed past than I did.

  FORTUNATELY, MY CLIENTS’ okays to substitute Rachel or Wanda as those who cared for their beloved pets had no time limit. Not the most professional thing to do, and I felt awful about it. But, hey, I hadn’t counted on needing to travel to San Bernardino County so much.

  Also fortunately—for me—Rachel was waiting for the result of her recent audition, so she had time available.

  I cared about Dante and I wanted to be there for him during the sheriff’s interrogation. I doubted they’d allow me to sit in, but at least I could hang out to provide some support.

  And, just maybe, I might learn something new about Jon Doe and his murder. And about what Dante did or did not actually know about him.

  So the next afternoon, after dressing in a nice pantsuit in case I had to appear professional, I headed toward the new Arrowhead View sheriff’s substation.

  It sat at the base of the mountains, not far from HotWildlife. It was blah beige in color, its stucco somewhat textured. At least a couple of odd angles gave it character. When I went inside, it looked similar to other law enforcement venues I’d visited. The reception area was staffed by a woman and man in uniform, and they had to buzz people through a locked gate before they could enter the station.

  I’d tried calling Dante on my way, but he hadn’t answered. Was he already under interrogation? I wasn’t sure, but his silver Mercedes was in the substation’s parking lot.


  I certainly hoped he hadn’t been arrested.

  I’d spotted Esther’s unmistakable Jaguar convertible in the parking lot. Whatever was going on, Dante wasn’t facing it alone.

  I approached the facility’s greeters. “Hello. I’m Kendra Ballantyne—a lawyer. May I see Sergeant Frank Hura?” It wouldn’t do me any good to ask for Dante, but perhaps I could get to see his inquisitioner.

  “Sorry, but he’s in a meeting,” said the lady deputy. No hesitation at all, which led me to believe that, in a substation as small as this, they all knew each other’s business. Especially when that business involved browbeating someone as well known as Dante DeFrancisco.

  “Do you know how long he’ll be?”

  “Sorry, no. I’ll leave word for him that you’re here, though, if you’d like to wait.”

  I considered that, but only for a minute. “No, I don’t think so,” I said. I had a better place where I could hang out while waiting to hear what happened.

  And so, a short while later, I headed my Escape into the parking lot at HotWildlife.

  MEGAN ZURICH WAS in her roomy office when I knocked, then walked in. She appeared exhausted, her complexion even paler than I’d seen it before.

  “Kendra! How good to see you,” she said.

  “How are the wolf pups?” I inquired without preamble, taking a seat facing her desk. I’d just strolled briskly through the sanctuary, peering at many inhabitants who appeared as calmly wild as always. But the infirmary was locked. For security after the murder? On sheriff’s orders?

  Whatever the reason, I’d missed out on visiting the baby wolves.

  “They’re doing well, though we’ve had to ask our staff and volunteers to put in lots of hours to help out—which isn’t our usual policy for animal care. I just wish we knew what happened to their mother …” Her voice trailed off, and she stared out the office window behind me as if hoping to spot mama wolf walking around outside.

  “Before I leave here today,” I said, “I’d be more than happy to take a turn feeding them.”

  “That would be wonderful.” Megan acted nervous as she ran fingers over her blond hair, pulled back in a barrette as always. She gazed at me unhappily with her golden eyes. “Dante was here earlier. For a little while. He had someplace to go …”

  “Yes, I know he’s being questioned again by the local authorities. Do you think they suspect him in Jon Doe’s death?”

  “That’s what he thought. He said his new lawyer was meeting him, and he had no problem going there. He had nothing to hide.”

  Right. If I believed that, I could also believe mama wolf would walk through the office door at any moment.

  “Well, just in case, I’m hoping to get some answers myself. Anything you can tell me about Jon Doe that could help me figure out who might have killed him?”

  “Oh, right—you have a sideline of solving murders, don’t you? Er—I assume you don’t kill people yourself to get the credit for supposedly solving the crimes?” Talk about nervous. Now she appeared downright agitated. Her hand moved somewhere below her desk. Seeking a button to call for some security—or to whip out a weapon?

  “Nope,” I assured her. “I was actually accused in only two related killings, and that was the first time I found the real culprit. Since then, I’ve become what I call a murder magnet. People around me … well, you get it. And since I don’t think Dante did it”—I hoped—“and because I really like HotWildlife and all it stands for, I’d love to get to the bottom of this murder, too. Fast. Although—”

  “What?” she asked as I broke off.

  “You didn’t do it, did you, Megan?”

  She laughed uneasily. “The sheriff’s detectives asked me that, too. The answer’s no, but I know I’ll remain under suspicion till the killer is caught. I hired Jon Doe. I was his supervisor. I was around when he died. I had no motive to kill him, but I guess the authorities need to be sure of that before eliminating me from their suspect list.”

  “I’ll put in a good word for you if you convince me.” I smiled as if I were joking—which I wasn’t, not completely.

  “How can I do that?”

  For the next hour or so, I had her tell me all she knew about Jon Doe and go over his employee file. “I probably shouldn’t let you see this because of privacy laws,” she said, “but if you’re acting sort of as the sanctuary’s attorney …”

  “Let’s say that’s so,” I agreed. “At least for the moment.”

  What I saw only confirmed the stuff I’d already seen thanks to Althea. Jon Doe had a wonderful employment history of being hired to take care of wild animals at places like this.

  Nothing to indicate it might all be an assumed identity.

  Megan described Jon’s work in glowing terms. He’d seemed to love what he did, thrived on caring for the animals. Was never tardy or irritable or anything out of the ordinary.

  “And was he often around when Dante visited?” I asked casually, well into our conversation.

  Megan pondered for a moment. “Maybe. Probably, at least recently. I can’t say I remember them ever speaking to each other … at least I don’t think so. Not until the last few times Dante was here, when you were along, too.”

  And noticed some … well, tension between Dante and Jon Doe that seemed exacerbated when Brody was about.

  That didn’t exactly exonerate Dante, or Brody, in my estimation. Nor did any of what she said or showed me seem to implicate Megan in the murder.

  As we were finishing up, a knock sounded on the door. “Yes?” Megan called.

  Krissy poked her head inside. Her smile froze as she saw me. I didn’t exactly extend a welcoming hand to her, either. “Sorry to interrupt,” she said, “but the greatest thing—we’re going to be on National NewsShakers again. That cool reporter, Corina Carey? She’s here with a photographer.”

  CORINA HAD COME here before, after I gave her the exclusive initial news of Jon Doe’s death—only two days ago. I’d not been around when she’d arrived. Dante and I had already headed back to L.A. But I’d seen her report, and since she was a tabloid-type reporter, it had definitely been over-the-top.

  There hadn’t been a lot about HotWildlife in her late-night story, other than as the locale of the latest killing I’d told her about—not that I, fortunately, was mentioned.

  She had promised her audience, and me, that she would come back and focus on the wonderful facility. If nothing else, her presence might have the good result of bringing in additional visitors—and donations.

  Megan and I hurried outside to greet her.

  “Kendra! I didn’t know you’d be here!” Her exuberant hug earned me a baleful gaze from Krissy, who stood off to the side.

  Corina Carey always favored bright colors to set off the cute shagginess of her dark hair. Today, she wore a shocking pink dress. Her soft brown eyes tilted enough to suggest some Asian ancestry. She was taller than me, probably because she wore much higher heels. I wondered whether she’d stay on the occasionally uneven paved pathways at HotWildlife, but she’d covered so many different kinds of stories, she surely knew what she could handle.

  “I didn’t, either,” I told her. I started to introduce her to Megan, then recalled they had met when Corina interviewed Megan on her news segment after the murder.

  “So, have you figured out who killed Jon Doe?” she asked.

  “No, but I’m working on it.”

  “So is the San Bernardino County Sheriff-Coroner’s Department,” said a deep, familiar voice from behind me. I turned to see Dante approaching from the area of the office. “I hope you do a better job of figuring it out than they seem to be doing.”

  “Well, Dante DeFrancisco!” exclaimed Corina. “I didn’t figure on seeing you here, but I’d love to interview you about the terrible things that have happened at HotWildlife. Did you just say you don’t trust the local sheriff’s department to get it right?”

  I hadn’t particularly focused on Corina’s cameraman, but she alwa
ys had one with her. The guy stepped out from behind her and aimed his equipment toward Dante, who said, “Hell, no,” with so much fervor I almost figured he’d attack the shooter. “You want to interview me, Corina? Fine. But it’ll be off the record. Off camera. Or I won’t talk to you at all.”

  “Whatever you say, Dante,” she responded.

  They had met before, at Animal Auditions tapings. Dante had made it clear then that he did not like to be photographed.

  Once again, I wondered why.

  Chapter Twelve

  GETTING DANTE ALONE for a few seconds, I learned that Esther had headed home to L.A. Unfortunately, Corina stayed too close for me to ask any telling questions—like, did the deputies discuss placing him under arrest, and if so, what was their alleged evidence?

  Since Dante clearly wanted nothing to do with Corina at this moment, Megan and I meandered with her and her camera guy all over HotWildlife—notwithstanding that Dante had, weeks ago, offered Corina a private tour. The tabloid reporter stopped often to ooh and aah over the animals, and lots of film clips about the inhabitants were the result.

  So were some snippets of comments from the sanctuary’s numerous visitors who often impeded our path as they, too, drank in the outstanding sights. Everyone gushed enthusiastically about how well the animals were treated. Espoused wildlife conservation. Applauded Megan and benefactor Dante DeFrancisco for their foresight in putting this place together.

  Now and then the awful event of a couple of days earlier was mentioned, and I all but hugged Corina when she signaled her cameraman to turn off his equipment. Good thing I didn’t. Her rationale wasn’t as benevolent as I’d have liked. After the fourth time, she explained that it wouldn’t make exciting news to get the opinions on who’d offed Jon Doe from people who hadn’t even been around for the occasion.

  I wondered, as I inhaled the growingly familiar scents of this animal sanctuary, whether Dante was still here or whether he had headed home. I hoped the former, since I’d come all this way to be supportive while he dealt with his summons to the sheriff’s department.