“Another why comes to mind here. What was the killer’s motive to grab them from the cat in the first place? ”
“Only a guess, but what if the white collar became covered in blood after the killing? If it was only Margaret’s blood, that wouldn’t be a big deal to the killer. But what if he or she wasn’t sure whose blood it was?”
“The killer’s own could be a possibility,” Dante acknowledged. He had exited the freeway on Laurel Canyon and was now waiting for a light to change. He looked at me grimly, and I looked back.
“Exactly. So …”
“So you’re going to use these new ones to watch your suspects’ reactions to seeing the collar and tag.”
“You got it,” I said, smiling at him.
“I just hope what you’ve got isn’t going to hurt you.”
DEAR DARRYL HAD set things up by the time I got to Doggy Indulgence.
I didn’t see Lexie at first, and after Kiki’s recent nasty pranks, I had some concerns whether she had somehow gotten the word about what I was about to do. But then Darryl’s office door opened, and both Lexie and he emerged.
Near the main desk at the entry, he greeted Dante and me. He gave me a hug, and at the same time whispered into my ear, “Kiki’s on assignment in the kitchen. I’ve taken the liberty of borrowing her purse. It’s in my office, and once you’ve stuck your little present into it, I’ll make sure it’s returned to the area where employees keep their belongings.”
“You’re a dear, Darryl.” I kissed him on the cheek, then glanced at Dante. He didn’t seem daunted by the show of affection. But then, he already knew I had a thing for Darryl—namely, long-term and really deep friendship.
In a while, everything was set up. I went into the kitchen while Darryl worked the magic of returning Kiki’s purse to its original location. Meantime, I’d transferred my little present into it.
“Hi,” I said to Kiki, who was busy scrubbing a small area of the floor. Beside her was a big plastic garbage bag that didn’t smell especially good, and I assumed that Darryl had somehow gotten one of the doggies to leave its duty where it didn’t belong.
Kiki turned to glare up at me, as if I’d done whatever caused her to be on cleanup detail. She wore a Doggy Indulgence knit shirt—this one a shocking pink—over skinny jeans. Her bleached blond hair appeared a trifle damp—from either cleaning or perspiring.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” I asked.
“No.”
I pulled a chair from behind the table where employees ate lunch and sat on it, watching her. “Guess what. I’m going to talk anyway. I’d really like to know why you’re so upset about Wanda, and therefore about me.”
“Not your business.” She returned to her scrubbing.
“Oh, but I think it is. Wanda’s my friend. Besides that—well, as I’m sure you know, she’s on the Burbank police’s suspect list for the murder of Margaret Shiler, who lived in her condo complex. They were arguing over pets. But I’m certain someone has set Wanda up. I don’t know why yet, but there’s a particular clue that’ll at least help me find out who.”
I proceeded to tell her all about the disappearing Lady Cuddles. Interestingly, she turned around, sat on a dry area of the floor, and listened. Nodded her head, as if this wasn’t a new story to her.
Might my original suspicions about her actually be correct?
I then got into my theory about the killer taking Lady Cuddles’s collar and name tag because they contained a clue about that person’s identity. “So far, the police aren’t convinced, but I’m trying to rule suspects out.”
Darryl and Dante wandered in just then, as if their timing was one big coincidence. I’d asked for exactly five minutes before their big entrance.
Darryl held Kiki’s purse.
“I’m sure Kendra’s told you her theory by now,” Kiki’s calm employer said. “Please empty your purse so we can be sure you aren’t hiding the missing stuff.”
“How dumb!” she exclaimed with a sniff, standing at last. “Number one, it’s not me. Number two, whoever killed that woman would have gotten rid of the collar by now if it could point to them.”
“Humor us.” Dante had been here with me before, so Kiki knew who he was. Otherwise, since he tended to eschew on-air media interviews, or even paparazzi photos in the papers, she’d certainly have heard of him but wouldn’t have known what he looked like.
The man had a magic way with women. Maybe it was his absolutely sexy male looks. Or their knowledge that this guy had a whole lot of money.
Whatever it was, Kiki said, “Well, all right. For you, Dante.”
Just like that, she took the purse and turned it over, dumping its contents on the floor. Out rained makeup, a comb, a wallet, and lots of not-unexpected stuff.
Almost last, the collar and name tag slid out and sat on top of the rest.
I watched as her eyes widened. And blinked. Then narrowed. “You set this up, Kendra. I know you did. Well, here’s my answer, even though it’s not what you’re looking for. I was serious when I said I didn’t know anything about that damned cat or its missing collar and stuff. I didn’t kill that Margaret woman. As much as I’m angry with Wanda for interfering with what I’ve been trying to discuss with Darryl, it’s a real stretch to think I’d kill someone I didn’t even know, in the hope that the cops would blame her, don’t you think?”
“Exactly what did you want to discuss with Darryl?” I asked before anyone else—including said Doggy Indulgence owner—could do so.
“I want a lot more responsibility, since I’m around here more than getting acting gigs. I want to become manager. I’m good with dogs, and he knows it. I need more money. That’s it.”
“We’ve talked a little about your latest ideas,” Darryl said. “How did Wanda prevent you from discussing the rest?”
“She’s either here with you or you’re on the phone with her. Or thinking about her. The few times I’ve tried to talk to you about everything, you were in a hurry to see her and seemed too distracted to really listen to me or to take me seriously. So … Here’s the thing, Darryl. I didn’t kill anyone. I didn’t do anything to hurt Wanda. But I will hurt you.”
“What!” I exclaimed, leaping to my feet, ready to defend my dear friend from whatever this woman had in mind.
“Not physically,” she said scornfully, standing there with hands on her hips. “If I don’t get what I want from you, Darryl, I’m starting my own doggy day care facility. A lot of your customers really like me, so you’ll lose business. It’s as simple as that. You can ignore me to go snuggle with your Wanda, or you can talk to me.”
With that, she stalked out of the kitchen.
I looked from one of the men to the other. “Well,” I said, “the good thing is that we learned what she wants from you, Darryl, although why she’s blaming Wanda for any of it doesn’t exactly make sense.”
“I suspect she needs a scapegoat,” Dante responded wisely.
“The other good thing is that I did get a reaction from her about my fishing for a suspect in Margaret’s murder—and the items I used as bait.”
“Do you think she did it?” To my surprise, Darryl sounded almost hopeful as he stared at me through his wire-rims.
“Nope,” I said. “I’m still looking. Kiki’s first reaction convinced me she isn’t guilty—not that I really suspected her. But as silly as my set-up is, I believe it’ll catch a killer.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
“INTERESTING SCENARIO YOU came up with,” Dante said when we were again in his car.
Lexie was lying in the backseat, evidently exhausted despite her day at Doggy Indulgence having been somewhat abbreviated. Either that, or she’d been freaked out by the kitchen scenario. Or maybe she simply hadn’t finished her afternoon nap.
We were heading back to my office, already on the freeway heading west.
Then Dante said exactly what had been on my mind. “But do you think it’ll really be effective in helping you find
the killer?”
I shrugged sadly. “Honestly? I don’t know. But I’m hopeful, and I’ve got to do something.” We went over the short list of persons I wanted to attempt to unnerve with the collars and tags, and how I’d maneuver each into a position of vulnerability. I could only hope that if the guilty one was among them, he or she would go bonkers when the cat stuff mysteriously reappeared.
Assuming he/she had made it disappear in the first place.
A single replacement set might have sufficed, but I’d wanted extras in case someone kept one—or in case I needed to modify the appearance now and then for my scenario to get serious. If, of course, one could ever look at something so off-the-wall as serious. But I’d used others equally strange and gotten useful results.
Dante, of course, attempted to insist that he be present each time I experimented. “We’ll see,” I said.
“If not me, then Brody.” He stopped speaking then, as if he’d had the last word on the subject.
The last word? Perhaps. But not necessarily the final result.
We chatted about other stuff on the drive to my office. I wasn’t certain what Dante was doing while I finished the rest of my day there. He spent it in the bar-conference room with his smart phone, since there were no meetings scheduled there for the afternoon. Lexie seemed eager to check on him, so now and then she and I would walk there to say hello.
While I was in my office alone, I went through some files I needed for the upcoming week, including a motion and supporting documents that I’d need for a scheduled court appearance.
I also stewed over the situation with Pierre and his breeder’s overreaching contract. I even did some initial online research, although I didn’t want to spend a lot of time on it and have to bill Joan.
It didn’t necessarily matter how any similar disputes had been resolved in court, since there was a pretty strong arbitration provision in this particular contract. Fortunately, arbitrators had more latitude in resolving a dispute, needing to consider the law but also attempting to ascertain the parties’ intentions and consider that information as well.
They could follow the actual language of a disputed contract, or make a Solomon-like attempt to “split the baby”—in other words, reach a compromise that most likely neither party would be entirely pleased with.
This agreement’s arbitration provision stated that it was binding, so even if Joan, not liking the result, wanted to incur the time and expense of attempting to prevail another forum, a successful appeal was unlikely, absent something egregious on the arbitrator’s part.
As I read again through the contract language, it appeared fairly clear—and not in my client’s favor. The best course would be a settlement that both sides agreed to.
I thought hard, made notes, and arrived at suggestions that, maybe, Joan could at least live with instead of being forced either to follow everything in the contract exactly … or to wind up having to return adorable Pierre to his breeder.
I called Joan and somberly told her the direction of the dilemma I’d now zeroed in on.
“Oh, Kendra, I was afraid of that.”
“But compromise is always possible, if we come up with a settlement proposition that Elmira would agree to.” I didn’t mention that I hadn’t completely hated Elmira, despite her being our opposition. Maybe, unlike most people on the opposite side of a negotiating table from me, she’d actually be reasonable.
I told Joan the way my other thoughts had been heading. When I was done, I asked, “Do you think you could live with that as a compromise?”
“It’s a lot better than most of the other possibilities,” she said. “And it might actually be of some benefit to me. Let’s give it a try.”
I called Elmira’s attorney, Cornelius Eldt, and left a message asking if we could set up another meeting.
DANTE DID MORE than stay near me for the rest of the day. That evening, he had Alfonse, his personal assistant, deliver his doggy Wagner to my place so the four of us could spend the night together. Dante, Wagner, Lexie, and me, that is. Alfonse returned to Dante’s Malibu digs.
While engaging in delightful conversation with Dante, before and after dinner, I silently pondered my next move in the Margaret murder investigation. I definitely intended to impose my scenario on all suspects on my list. First one—second, if I counted Kiki—would most likely be Margaret’s ex-husband. He was less likely to be in contact with any of the other suspects to give them a heads-up about what I was doing.
When bedtime rolled around, my mind, and the rest of me, were absolutely focused on other activities …
I WOKE FIRST in the morning, even before my clock radio startled me. I was locked in Dante’s arms—not a bad place to be.
But I had a big day ahead of me, and so I stirred. That, of course, woke him. Our nearness suggested getting even closer, and soon, as my body sang, angels also started singing in my ear. No, that was a current music sensation. My clock radio had finally gone off.
“Good morning, Kendra,” Dante said as he nibbled my ear.
I purred, then pulled away. “Time to get dressed.”
“Too bad.”
But dress we did. We took the dogs out for a short but energetic romp along my street, ate an abbreviated breakfast, and then it was time to go our separate ways.
“Are you going to pull one of your capers today?” Dante stood beside my Escape, Wagner at his side. He wore the same clothes as yesterday. No spares at my home. Yet. Although he had moved miscellaneous items in, like an electric razor and a toothbrush. I knew he kept extra stuff at his office, so he’d be able to change there.
“You mean with the collars?” I asked innocently.
“Exactly.” His glare suggested I didn’t dare do it without him.
Thing was, I’d contemplated how to achieve my objective all alone, and realized how hard that might be. I needed a distraction.
And there was no better distraction than Dante.
“I hope to,” I admitted. “I’ll have to make a call first. If it works out and I can schedule something, I’ll let you know. Then, it’ll be fine if you can make it.” I acted as if I was granting him a favor, when actually he’d be doing the favor for me.
“If I can’t be there, I’ll make sure Brody is.” He leaned in my open window and gave me a kiss—just missing Lexie’s eager face as she tried to stick her nose between us from the backseat.
Dante laughed, and I drove out, waving at Rachel. I spoke to my assistant on my hands-free device as I cruised toward my first petsitting of the day, to make sure we were in sync about who was caring for which animal clients. All was well on that front.
I decided to keep Lexie with me at my office, in case what I hoped to accomplish at short notice happened to materialize.
It did. I reached Margaret’s ex, Paulino Shiler, when I called him first thing from the office. Since I had to look up his phone number, and knew I’d need to concentrate on what he had to say, I hadn’t wanted to phone him from the car. Turned out he intended to take his beautiful part-boxer pups to the dog park that very afternoon, since rain was predicted for the next couple of days.
I told him I had a couple more questions, so I’d be there, too. Would even have my own pup along, so maybe the three canines could cavort around the park together.
Neither of us mentioned our ugly little interlude in Margaret’s apartment.
I quickly called Dante. He sounded a little distracted—gee, did he actually have to run his business empire even when I called him?—but confirmed that either Brody or he would be there on time.
I also let Detective Melamed know what I was up to. She muttered something, then thanked me—and said she’d spoken again with Ned. She only hoped he wasn’t just yanking her chain about me—and could keep his mouth shut so she wouldn’t look like an ass to her coworkers and superiors for agreeing to such lunacy.
Unless, of course, it garnered quick results.
I soon said good-bye, then I waited for afternoo
n to arrive.
TURNED OUT IT was Brody who joined me. I liked Brody, especially since he was an amazingly popular judge on Animal Auditions. I remained terribly fond of that show, since I’d helped to found it.
I tried hard not to show my disappointment that he wasn’t Dante.
We’d both parked on the hillside leading down to the park. Even in grungy jeans and a T-shirt with the sleeves torn out, the guy was movie-star gorgeous. Or maybe the casual clothes enhanced his he-man appearance.
I’d purposely worn nice slacks that day and exchanged my nicer shoes for sneakers I’d stored in my Escape. Lexie leaped excitedly at my side, clearly knowing where we were, whether from the scents of other doggies in the air or the occasional excited barks from the fenced-in area where canines roamed free.
“Hi, Kendra.” Falling into step with my pup and me, Brody gave me a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Dante made it clear I’d better do a great job of helping you this afternoon. He told me what it would entail, but you’d better fill me in on details.”
Which I did. Fast. We’d already reached the entrance gate, and we carefully edged our ways inside, ensuring that it latched behind us so no dogs could escape.
I looked around and saw that Paulino and his boxer-mix pups were already there. “Let me introduce you,” I told Brody.
We approached Paulino, and I saw that the thin forty-to-fifty-something guy, again in workout clothes, once more wore his large, dark backpack. He was engaged in a game of catch with his two dogs, who excitedly dashed after each ball he threw.
I smiled as we drew close. Paulino clearly recognized Brody, since he grinned broadly, revealing the gap between his front teeth, and extended his hand for a substantial shake. “It’s really great to meet you,” he said. “I like your attitude on Animal Auditions. I’ve also seen your movie about K-9 Marines probably a dozen times.”
Feline Fatale Page 19
