Home Is Where the Bark Is (9 page)

Sure it did. Did the mutt have its personal soda fountain, too? Soft-serve ice cream on call? Twizzlers, anyone?

Joe nodded. “You know, I’m not sure that it’s about the actual movie. I think she just likes to hear the human voices. They comfort her.”

Serena turned to Nick. “Freya’s very old, past sixteen. She’s going blind and she’s a bit deaf but she’s the sweetest thing you ever met.” She turned back to her other client. Her voice gentled. “Freya’s had a good day, Joe. As good as can be expected.”

Her client’s Adam’s apple jerked convulsively. “One of her last days here, I’m afraid, Serena.”

Serena’s face crumpled; she snatched her hand to her mouth as she stared at Joe. “Oh no. Not that. The vet hasn’t said to euthanize—?”

Nick immediately felt like a prize jerk. The poor animal was being pampered because she was on her last legs. If he’d sounded forth about the popcorn and the soda fountain, right now he’d be wrenching his size-thirteen foot out of his mouth.

But Joe made a waving-away motion with his hands. “No. Thank God. We’ve been spared that. With everything else at least we’ve been spared that.”

Serena’s brow furrowed. “Then I don’t understand. Why would this be one of Freya’s last days here?”

“I’m sorry, Serena. I’m giving you the week’s notice I know you require,” said Joe, obviously having difficulty with the words. “We have to . . . to take Freya out of Paws-A-While.”

Emotions rippled across Serena’s face. Shock. Hurt. A flash of panic. “But, Joe, I thought you and Rosemary were happy with the way we look after Freya?”

Joe groaned. “I’m not doing this very well, am I? We couldn’t be happier with Paws-A-While. Freya will miss coming here and so . . . so will we. I know I also speak for Rosemary on that.”

“So why—?”

“To be blunt, we can’t afford to keep Freya with you any longer. We’re broke, Serena. Lost everything.” Her client’s mouth set in a grim line.

Serena didn’t do a good job of hiding her bewilderment. She was either an excellent actor—as the best con merchants were—or she was genuinely distressed.

“But, Joe, you’re a doctor . . . So’s Rosemary. You have your own business. How do doctors lose . . . ?”

“Identity theft, Serena.” He spat out the words as if they were some bitter substance he had inadvertently swallowed. “That’s how people like us, who have worked so hard to get everything we have, can lose it all.”

“Identity theft,” she said, as if she was only barely aware of the term. “Isn’t that when someone steals your credit cards, then uses your name?”

Joe nodded, obviously too shattered by the event to say much more.

Oh yes, Nick recognized Joseph Godfrey, all right. His file was in the third drawer down in the secure filing cabinet in the S&W Investigations office in South Beach.

Drs. Joseph and Rosemary Godfrey, San Anselmo, Marin County. The bearded doctor’s photo was scanned into the report from the insurance company. Along with the details of the massive fraud perpetrated on him and his wife. Credit cards run up to the max. Bank accounts cleaned out. Debts all over the state. A massive mortgage taken out using their properties as collateral. All orchestrated by a scammer who had assumed the identities of this eminent pediatrician and his psychiatrist wife.

Serena was reeling, obviously having trouble taking in what her client had told her. “Joe, this is terrible. I . . . I can’t say how sorry I am.”

Joe shook his head. “It’s a mess like you wouldn’t believe, Serena. And now our poor, innocent dog will suffer, too.”

“But . . . she’s so frail. Who will look after her when you and Rosemary are at work?”

“We’ll have to leave her at home by herself.” His mouth twisted. “That is, if we get to keep our home. Not that we feel the same about it since it was burgled.”

Serena’s lovely, full mouth was trembling. “But Freya hates being by herself. She’s too old. She . . .” She bit down on her bottom lip. Nick had the irrational urge to take her in his arms and comfort her.

She twisted her hands together and Nick got the impression she was fighting tears but was determined not to fall to pieces in front of her clients. “I’ll . . . I’ll go get Freya,” she said, turning on her heel.

An awkward silence fell between the two men.

Nick cleared his throat. “Sorry to hear what’s happened to you,” Nick said to Joe Godfrey. “It’s a bad business.”

He would have liked to say,
Don’t worry, we’re on the case
. But his company’s involvement in the investigation had to stay confidential. And he had to remember he was working for the insurance company, not the victims.

“We had no idea what was going on until our credit cards were refused,” said the older man. “Then the notices started coming from the bank, from companies we’d never heard of, debt collectors . . . It’s a nightmare.”

Nick made gruff, sympathetic, man-to-man-type noises that he knew were totally meaningless. But he could not just ignore Joe Godfrey’s pain. Anger at the type of scum who would do this damage to innocent people churned in his gut.

This decent, caring man was the human face of the victim—the reality behind the cold, hard facts of his briefing. And Nick could not discount for one second that Serena Oakley—alias St. James—could be the beautiful face of the perpetrator.

When she came back, leading an ancient yellow Labrador, her eyes were red; maybe she’d scrunched her hands into fists to wipe away tears. But she had a decisive air about her, as if she’d spent her time in the doggy TV room thinking.

She had to guide the old dog with its leash as, on unsteady legs, it had trouble walking in a straight line and veered off the path of painted paw prints. The Lab’s muzzle was silver and her eyes milky. But Nick could see the joyous expression in those tired old eyes when she realized her master was there. She tottered up to Joe Godfrey and simply laid her head against his leg.

Nick could hardly bear to look. The emotion between dog and man was palpable. He remembered how wobbly Fella had gotten toward the end. But how he had refused to slow down. Funny, he hadn’t thought of that for a long time. How upset he’d been when he’d come home from college for the summer to find Fella gone.

His parents had not thought to tell him his dog had died. Not that they were harsh or cruel. An old dog’s death was just a fact of farm life. They’d soon gotten another puppy. The pup grew up into a nice dog. But it wasn’t his dog. And there’d been no opportunity since in his life to have one.

Until now. If things went well with S&W Investigations, he might settle down in San Francisco. Not settle down in the get-married-and-have-kids-type meaning of the term “settle down.” No way.
He who travels fastest travels alone.
And he had a new career to establish. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t commit to a dog of his own.

Yeah. A dog might be good. Maybe someday sooner rather than later.

Joe squatted down to the level of the ancient Labrador. “Hi there, old girl,” he said, with obvious affection. He patted and stroked her head. She licked his hand, her tail wagging as slowly as the rest of her. “So you’ve been watching your favorite movie? And I bet Kylie gave you some special time, too.”

Serena watched them, her hands shoved into the pockets of her baggy jeans. “Kylie loves Freya. So do I. You can’t take her away from here,” she said. “It wouldn’t be right.” Her voice wasn’t quite steady.

Her client got up but kept his hand on his dog’s head. “We have no choice, Serena.”

“Yes, you do,” she said.

What was her game? Nick could not figure out where she was going.

“Serena, I don’t think you understand,” said Joe, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “We can’t afford to pay you any longer.”

“I don’t want payment. Freya can stay here as . . . as my guest.”

Joe shook his head. “That’s so sweet of you, Serena. But I can’t let you—”

“I insist. Please let me do this for you, Joe. For you and for Freya. You were my very first clients. You referred so many people to me. Keep Freya at Paws-A-While.”

“But, Serena . . .”

Serena refused to hear his protest. “Freya is too old to change. She has her routines here, her doggy friends. Us to keep an eye on her. Imagine if she was home by herself all day and had another stroke. I would never forgive myself. Please let me keep her here.” Her eyes were urgent with appeal.

“Serena, heaven knows how long it will take for us to prove that someone else took out the loans in our names, ran up the debts. I don’t know when we could pay you back. Months. Years. Maybe never.” Joe Godfrey’s mouth twisted in a bitter line.

“Joe. Listen to me. You won’t be running up a tab. Freya will be my guest. For free. Gratis. No charge.”

Joe swallowed hard. “Serena, this is incredibly generous of you. I know leaving Freya here is the best thing for her. But why should you suffer financially because of our misfortune? If we leave her here, rest assured, we’ll pay her fees as soon as humanly possible.”

“We’ll see about that at the time,” she said, a stubborn set to her mouth. “Just promise me that you or Rosemary will still drop Freya off to me as always.”

Nick could not help admiring Serena’s generous response and the passionate way she presented her argument. It was difficult not to believe that she was genuinely shocked by the position her clients had found themselves in. But was she able to afford to make such a gesture because of the proceeds of her crimes?

He wanted to believe in her. But in his years at the FBI, Nick had come across ruthless characters who were so convincing in their assumed personas that no one had seen the king hit coming, least of all their victims. No. He had learned how cunning criminals could be in making themselves appear the most kind, generous, and altruistic people to the marks they were aiming to scam. Just like Serena right now appeared to be the most appealing of guardian angels to Joe Godfrey.

Dr. Godfrey reluctantly accepted her offer. “I promise. But only until we can make other arrangements. Maybe Rosemary’s sister can help out. And the meter will be ticking, whether you like it or not.”

Serena leaned down to pet Freya. “That’s settled, then,” she said. Then she hugged Joe. “We’ll look after Freya for as long as you need us.”

It was only for a moment that Serena stood there with her arms around another man in a hug that was nothing more than an act of friendship. But Nick was shocked at the jolt of jealousy that seared him. A fierce surge of possessiveness made him want to shove this nice, distressed man away and warn him never to lay his hands on Serena again.

He forced himself to mentally chant the mantra of his business.
Stay detached. Remain focused. Maintain suspicion.
Serena was being benevolent to her client and his dog. But it could all be part of a calculated act to divert attention from herself.

Back off, Whalen
.

At least until there was proof Serena had nothing to do with this fraud. Soon he would meet with Joe Godfrey and his wife on a professional basis to interview them. But not right now in the initial stages of the investigation. Not when he was working undercover at Paws-A-While.

After Serena said good-bye to Dr. Godfrey and watched him and his dog go through the door to the exit, she turned to Nick. Her face was drained of all color and her mouth was trembling.

She slammed one fist into another with a force that made Nick wince. “Talk about bad things happening to good people.”

Nick opened his mouth to try for a soothing kind of response, but she didn’t give him a chance to utter it.

She started to pace the floor, unconsciously following the trail of painted paw prints. “The Godfreys are
such
good people.”

She spun to face him. “Those two run a clinic for emotionally disturbed kids. They’ve devoted their lives to helping young people. And the tragedy of it is they couldn’t have children of their own. Now they can’t afford to look after the dog who is—for all intents and purposes—their baby. And who—by the way—also used to work with those kids as a therapy dog before she got too feeble. Why has this happened?”

Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparked with emotion.

“I don’t have any answer to that,” was all he could say.

He felt an overwhelming urge to pull her into his arms and soothe her. To praise her for her generosity of spirit. To reassure her that, if he had anything to do with it, the bad guys would be caught and punished. But he could not. Not when there was still a very real chance that she herself was one of the bad guys.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Me?”

“Don’t you need the revenue? Can you afford to keep Freya here for free?”

If she wasn’t so upset, he was sure she would tell him to mind his own business. “Of course I can’t,” she said. “I have a limit to the dogs I’m allowed to have here. This is a new setup, in an area where there are a number of similar centers. But Joe and Rosemary need my help. Wouldn’t you do the same?”

Nick wasn’t quite sure how to answer her. But he decided he had done enough lying for the day.

“I have to be honest and say I don’t know,” he replied. “I guess if my business was in jeopardy, I might have to weigh up what the right decision was at the time. Short-term loss that led to long-term gain. Or vice versa.”

Had she made that decision and decided to go for huge gain counted in the hundreds of thousands against the risk of getting caught and spending the rest of her youth behind bars?

“And what about Joe and Rosemary?” she said. “Not to mention Freya?”

“If they were my friends, I guess I would be doing everything I could to help them,” he said.

And from his point of view that meant tracking down the scum who were responsible for the crime that had these good people forced to accept charity.