The More the Terrier (17 page)

Chapter 22

Zoey was eagerly awaiting me when I got home that night. The kids had been in and out of the house, but she’d been alone most of the day. I gave her a big hug, then took her for a nice long walk.

I’d gotten a call from Matt on my way home. We met for a drink after I fed Zoey and myself, but only a drink, since my kids were in town. Matt told me about the kind of demonstration he was working out for HotRescues. “But before we schedule anything, I need to take another look at the new construction, and how it’s progressing.”

Since he wanted to see it during daylight, I arranged to meet him there the next day, after I had brunch with the kids.

Brunch, by the way, was outstanding—and not just because Tracy and Kevin picked out one of my favorite family restaurants to have it at. The company couldn’t have been better. Summer classes were going well for both of them. They enjoyed their jobs.

And they both seemed happy to spend some time with their lonesome mom.

Both were eager to pop in at HotRescues, so I brought them along for my session with Matt. I took the whole group over to see the progress on the new building. I even led them up to see the outer balconies on the second floor.

“This is cool, Mom,” Kevin said, walking outside and leaning over the short concrete wall to gaze toward the ground below. Which made my heart stop. Eventually, there would be safety railings out there, but for now it looked like too easy an area to fall from.

“It’s perfect!” Matt said, earning a confused look from Tracy that probably resembled mine. “For the demo, I mean. You know that the SmART team practices sliding down mountainsides on ropes, using all kinds of mountain rescue equipment. The idea is to be prepared for any kind of small animal rescue, no matter how difficult.”

“They did a great job rescuing those beagle puppies from where they’d been tossed down a storm drain,” I remarked.

“Their preparedness training definitely helped with that. So why not give them an exercise in sliding off a building? They could start right here, and you could have a crowd below watching them. They’d be able to rescue MARTE just fine from this location.” He looked at my kids. “That’s their little stuffed animal who’s always getting into a lot of trouble and needing to be rescued in training sessions.”

“Cool,” Kevin said. Tracy just smiled. They had both met Matt before, knew we were seeing each other, but I’d made it clear we were just friends. I didn’t want them to think I was about to present them with another father substitute, even though Matt was a whole lot nicer than Charles had ever been.

“I like the idea,” I said. “When could they do it?”

“I’ll talk to the team leader a little more about dates and times, then you and I can coordinate it.”

“Perfect.” I’d let Dante know right away that his fund-raiser-publicity event was going to be awesome.

The kids left to return to their schools a few hours later. I’d gone home with them to watch them pack, and I even drove Tracy to Bob Hope Airport.

I felt pretty lonesome as I headed back to HotRescues. Matt had left at the same time the kids and I did, so I didn’t have his company. I did, however, visit with our residents and a few dedicated volunteers for a while, not even heading to my office to address mounting paperwork.

Good thing I didn’t. A lady around my age, in fraying jeans with a nice umber-colored shirt tucked into them, arrived wanting to pick out a cat to adopt. “I live in Northridge,” she said. “Near the Tarbets. They told me that the best place in the area to find the ideal pet is right here.”

“They’re really nice people, aren’t they? Oh, and by the way, they happen to be right.”

She laughed, and I accompanied her personally into one of the cat rooms in our middle building—where mostly young adult kitties were housed. One of our volunteers, Sally, a student who only worked on weekends, came along. The woman—Trix, she said her name was—laughed at the felines’ antics on the miscellaneous stands and other recreation equipment we’d obtained from HotPets and installed to keep our cats exercised and occupied. In only a few minutes, she’d narrowed her choices down to two: a calico and a yellow kitty.

“Maybe . . . do you think it’s a good idea to adopt two at the same time?” She looked at me with troubled brown eyes. “I just lost my only cat about a month ago, and it’s been so hard adjusting. If I get two, I might not wind up all alone this way—but only if it’s okay for them, too.”

“Let’s let them help with the decision, okay?”

With Sally’s assistance, I moved the two she was considering into an otherwise empty room. We put them down on the floor and watched them. They didn’t exactly bond right in front of our eyes as lifelong friends, or if they were they didn’t show us. Neither did they display hissy fits.

“Here’s what we’ll do,” I said to Trix. “If you’re interested in adopting them, come back to our welcome area and fill out the paperwork. I require an application so I’ll know the kind of environment you’ll provide—a house or apartment—and a contract where you’d make some promises about how you’ll treat them. Also, you’d give permission for someone from HotRescues to drop in and visit now and then to be sure everything is going okay. I may want to see your place first, but if you could bring back any pictures of your home, that would be fine, too.” The knowledge that she was another in a list of referrals from the Tarbets worked in her favor. “Assuming everything pans out, you can adopt them both, but if there’s ever any trouble between them, or otherwise, you can bring one or both of them back.”

I went into my office and called Margie Tarbet while Trix filled out the forms. “Oh, yes, I know her, Lauren,” Margie said. “Not well, though. She lives a few blocks from me. I wasn’t aware that she’d lost her cat, poor thing. I didn’t refer her to you, but I would have if I’d known she was looking. Must have been Davie. Hold on a sec.”

It was over a minute before Davie got on the phone. “I’m the one who sent her there, Lauren,” he said. “I hope that’s okay. I take Moe and Beardsley on lots of walks, so I know what’s going on with people and pets around here. Sometimes I—I mean, I stopped to talk to Trix the other day and she really seemed to want a new cat after losing hers, so . . . I knew you’d do a great job of helping her.” He paused for a moment, then said, “She seems like a nice lady to me. I know you check references and all that. It’s one of the really great things about HotRescues.”

I smiled at his enthusiasm, said goodbye, and hung up, then went back into the welcome room.

Trix’s paperwork passed muster with me. She invited me to go with her right away to her place, but I declined—instead just looking the house up on Google Earth as she watched and pointed out its features. She promised she would keep both kitties indoors—a major consideration before I permitted any cat adoptions.

I called and made an appointment for her to talk to Mona the next day. Assuming our shrink had the same opinion I did, this lady would be able to pick up her new kitties within a couple of days. She seemed thrilled.

When she left, after hugging her prospective kitties, I went back into the shelter area, found Sally, and we highfived. More HotRescues residents had most likely found what I hoped would be a good home.

A little later, I called Dante about Matt’s idea. He loved it. I called Matt with some dates and times Dante suggested. We picked a couple that he thought matched SmART’s availability, but he’d double-check.

He also told me that a few more animals rescued from Mamie’s were finally available to private shelters. Otherwise, due to an influx of other animals at city facilities, their lives might be in danger. Fortunately, no euthanasia would occur at least for another couple of days if no one took them in.

“I’ll take some,” I assured him. “And I’ll be meeting with other rescuers tomorrow. One way or another, I’ll make sure to find a place for all of them.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.” I heard a note in his voice that suggested more than relief.

Turned out that neither of us had any plans for that evening . . . until we spoke. We decided to grab a light dinner together. Brunch was still taking up room in my stomach, so I didn’t want anything heavy.

We rented a DVD of a movie we’d both missed, a romantic comedy, and he accompanied me back to my home.

The rest of the evening? Well, it turned out not so lonesome after all.

The PST meeting wasn’t until seven the next evening, which gave me a lot of time to anticipate what would happen.

After getting to HotRescues that morning, and doing my first walk-through, I phoned Cricket to confirm I’d be there, and also to ask that she put into the agenda a request that everyone take in more rescues from the hoarding situation.

She sounded thrilled. “Of course, Lauren. I’m sure we’ll be able to accommodate all of them. That’s what a network like this is for.”

I intended to use it to try to find a murderer, but I didn’t tell her that.

However, the conversation reminded me of the number one suspect, and if I’d understood correctly, today was when her next police interrogation was scheduled. I’d no idea what time, so I called Mamie.

“It’s at eleven o’clock this morning, Lauren.” Her voice was soft and choked and scared. “Mr. Caramon is picking me up soon. Have you figured it out yet?”

“You mean what happened to Bethany?”

“She was murdered.”

“Yes, I know,” I said patiently, although I was a little confused. “What do you want me to figure out?”

“Who killed her. I didn’t like her, I yelled at her, but I didn’t kill her. So, who did?”

“I’m still working on that,” I said. A thought occurred to me. “But if you really want me to try to help, you can’t tell the police I’m doing anything. It’s our secret, okay?” I wasn’t sure she even knew what a secret was, at least with her once more befuddled state of mind.

“Okay,” she said.

“I’ll call you later,” I told her.

Which I did, mid-afternoon, but got no answer. Nor did I reach her an hour later. I went out to the welcome area, where Nina was holding down the rescue fort, and asked her to check on the Internet to see if she could find a “Mr. Caramon” who was most likely a public defender in L.A. She did, with no trouble. I called his office and was told he was out with a client, and had been all afternoon.

That didn’t bode well for poor Mamie, or so I figured. Which made what I intended to do that evening potentially more important. Could I preserve her freedom?

Could I prove her innocence by figuring out who killed Bethany?

Or was Mamie in danger of imminent arrest—for something she had actually done?

Chapter 23

Once again, I felt as if I’d relocated to the southeastern United States of a century and a half ago as I walked up to the huge, ornate gate at Better Than Any Pet Rescues. I arrived at the same time as a couple of other people who looked familiar both from Bethany’s funeral and my visit here for the hoarder discussion, but I didn’t recall their names. Even so, since I was here under somewhat false pretenses as one of them, I smiled and held out my hand.

“Hi, I’m Lauren Vancouver.”

“We know,” said a young African American woman with light-toned skin and a solemn expression I couldn’t read. “I’m Sylvia Lodner. I understand you’ve decided to join PST.”

“That’s right.”

“Why?” asked the other woman, taller than me with puffy golden hair. “You run HotRescues, don’t you, and you’re funded by the guy who owns HotPets? I’m Raelene Elder, by the way. I’m the chief administrator of Redondo Rescues.”

I’d already thought of an answer, but the gate opened and all three of us headed inside.

Instead of Bethany greeting visitors from the top of the stairs leading into the plantation house, Cricket stood there. She didn’t look as fashionable or elegant as her predecessor—and didn’t wear the antique-looking gown she’d had on at Bethany’s funeral—but she seemed to be an enthusiastic hostess, smiling and ushering us all inside. She wore a peachcolored suit with a floral blouse, business-like yet not especially formal.

“I’ll address your wonderful news first, Lauren,” she told me after waving us all toward the first-floor conference room where the prior meeting had been held.

Which item of news? I wondered, but I didn’t have long to wait.

I slid into an aisle seat halfway down the group of mostly occupied chairs, and saw I was right behind Darya and Lan Price. They both turned to say hi, just as Cricket took her place at the front of the room and began speaking.

“Welcome to the regular monthly meeting of Pet Shelters Together, everyone. Some of you already know her, but I want to introduce you first thing to Lauren Vancouver. She’s the head of HotRescues, and she is interested in joining our network. Please stand, Lauren.”

I tried not to roll my eyes as I complied. Being singled out and applauded wasn’t something I enjoyed, but I could understand why she did so.

“Lauren also has some other good news for us. A bunch more of the animals rescued from that”—she made a face that probably curled my hair as much as hers—“terrible hoarding situation need to be rescued from the city shelter system within the next couple of days. I’ve assured her that our network will find room for every one of them. Right?”

“Right!” came the enthusiastic reply. Okay, I’m not a particularly emotional person, but their response made my eyes tear up.

“I’ll pass around a sign-up sheet. Everyone write down your shelter and how many animals you could take in, if necessary.” Cricket waved a spiral notebook in her hand, opened it to the first page, and handed it to a person in the first row.

I wondered how many rescue organizations belonged to PST. Judging by this group, there had to be nearly two dozen.

Unsurprisingly, some of the people I wanted to hear more dirt about—the men who’d been part of Bethany’s life—were not here.

Cricket next gave a short eulogy of Bethany, although I thought that most, if not all, of these attendees had been at her funeral. This would have been a good time for me to talk, but I didn’t want to interrupt whatever program Cricket had devised for this evening. My intent wasn’t to incur her wrath—at least not any sooner than necessary.

She moved into some business items that sounded as if they were left over from Bethany’s tenure.

Discussion ensued. Some of it was interesting, including the suggestion that their current provider of supplies might need to be replaced with a more reliable source of good food and other items for less money. Perfect opportunity for me to jump in to show I could be a valuable member of the group. I raised my hand.

“Lauren?” Cricket called on me with a smile. “Are you going to suggest HotPets as our supplier?”

“We know you have an in with the owner,” Raelene said dryly. She’d taken a seat in the front row and had turned to look at me. “Will he sell us great stuff cheap?”

I laughed. “I can’t guarantee anything other than the quality of the products I get from HotPets, but I’d definitely suggest that you get a proposal from them along with whatever other sources you’re looking at. I’ll put in a good word for Pet Shelters Together.”

That earned a group laugh in response.

Other discussion ensued, including suggestions on other pet rescue organizations people knew about that might be good fits as new members. That earned me a number of glances, too—as if some of these people welcomed me, and others were questioning my attendance. Oh, well.

Finally, the meeting appeared to be drawing to a close. “Is there any more old business we should discuss?” Cricket asked.

Silence.

“Any new business?”

My turn. I raised my hand.

“Lauren?” Cricket sounded surprised as she recognized me.

“May I join you up there?” I asked. “I have something I’d like to discuss with everybody.”

She didn’t say no, so I joined her at the front and turned toward the crowd.

“I may be speaking out of turn, but there’s something I’d like to do, to recognize and thank Bethany. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be here. And”—I didn’t need Mamie’s approval or forgiveness for what I was about to say, and I intended not to criticize her here . . . too much—“a lot of animals would want to thank her, too, if they could, especially the ones recently saved from a terrible hoarding situation.”

That earned me some applause again. These people were definitely enthusiastic. Maybe that would help with what I was about to do.

“In recognition of Bethany, I’d like to do something special. What I have in mind is to create a Web site in her honor, or maybe just a separate Web page for the Pet Shelters Together and Better Than Any Pet Rescues sites.” They were separate, but already linked together. “I want to collect any photos all of you have of her, and have some of the best posted. Also any recollections you have of her. I’m going to pass out my e-mail address for HotRescues, and I’d like for every one of you to send me at least one quote I can use, preferably more.”

I paused but made sure my expression didn’t waver—even though the crux of my request was pending.

“It doesn’t have to be all pats on the back,” I continued. “I’d like to know your recollections of her, good and bad. I’ll edit them, but I want to include a genuine snapshot of who she was. How did you meet her? When did you join Pet Shelters Together? Which seemed to be her favorite member shelters and why? Which of you administrators did she seem to favor, and why? Did she give you any directions to change your approach to pet rescues? Did you know her personally? Did she ever talk to you about her love life?” I laughed at that, even though I was serious. “Did you meet people she’d selected for adoptions of animals from Better Than Any Pet Rescues, and what did they say about her?” Did any complain . . . enough to sound as if they had a motive to kill her? “Whatever.”

Their responses, and attitudes, might give me a lot to look into . . . but these people, as a group, probably knew Bethany well. At least a few might have disliked her, or have valid suspicions about who disliked her more.

“Should we throw in anything about how we saw her get along with your friend Mamie Spelling?” Sylvia called. Her snide expression suggested that she was determined to become a thorn in my side. On the other hand, facing issues head-on was always my style.

“Why not?” I responded. “I don’t want to libel anyone with what I put together to remember Bethany, but if you have an interesting anecdote, send it along.” Even if it was about Mamie. I couldn’t rule Mamie out. If I got enough evidence against her, I’d let her lawyer know, at least, before turning it over to the cops. I turned to Cricket, whose smile looked thin as she watched me. “Thanks,” I said.

As I’d hoped, my request generated some comments as we all trooped out of the room. Sylvia Lodner was the first to join me. “Bethany wasn’t always easy to get along with,” she said. “You know that your attempted pat-on-the-back to our deceased leader may bring up a lot of bad stuff instead.”

“I think it’ll be a good thing to get a full perspective,” I said. “I may even write a biography of her. She was certainly an interesting person, with her starting and selling a successful cosmetics company, then taking charge of pet rescues that way.” I stopped on the porch. “I’ll bet you’ll have a lot to contribute about her. I’d love to quote you on the site and, maybe, in the book.”

The face I’d considered unreadable before now looked as pleased as if I’d offered to write a flattering biography of her. “I’ll be in touch,” she said, waving one of the business cards I’d handed out.

Good, I thought. She didn’t seem the type to mince words.

I noticed the Prices exiting the door, talking to one another. “How about you?” I asked. “Can I count on you to send me some quotes about Bethany?”

“Good or bad?” Lan laughed. “I don’t get why you’d want anything less than happy stuff, but I’ll bet that, if people are honest, the bad’ll way outweigh the good.”

“Lan!” Darya sounded upset. “Bethany was a nice enough person. She had a kind heart for animals, at least.”

Her attitude was the same as I’d heard before. Nevertheless, I’d follow up with this couple to learn more about their time with Bethany.

I talked to some of the rest, too, as they left, including the other person I’d walked in with, Raelene.

As the place emptied out, I found myself standing on the porch with Cricket. “Great meeting,” I said. “I’ll look forward to many more.”

“Will you?” she asked, much too shrewdly for my comfort. “What’s that Web page thing really about, Lauren? Are you still trying to help that lunatic Mamie?”

I didn’t try to defend Mamie. Didn’t even want to, since she genuinely might be a lunatic. She’d definitely harmed animals, which made her repugnant to everyone who’d been here tonight. Even, in that respect, me.

“I’m not trying to help anyone,” I said, which was largely true, since all I might do is underscore all the evidence against Mamie. “But I feel bad about my attitude toward Bethany before she died, and this is the only way I can think of to make up for it.” Especially if I happened to figure out who killed her.

Cricket shook her head slowly, but even so her curls bounced around her face, looking too perky for the sorrowful expression she wore. “Bethany was a complicated person, Lauren. I suspect that, once you start receiving the quotes you asked for, you’ll drop this project for lack of nice things to say about her.”

I couldn’t resist—especially since I deemed Cricket to be one of my best suspects. “How about you?” I asked. “Will you have anything nice to say about her?”

“Me?” She looked shocked. “Of course. She was my friend. My boss. She taught me so much about pet rescues. I just hope to do an adequate job of filling her shoes.” I thought this lady did protest too much.

“And is there anything not so nice you can add to that?”

Cricket just glared at me. “No one’s perfect. Good night, Lauren.”

She nodded in the direction of the parking lot, obviously intending that I head that way.

Perversely, though I didn’t want to hang around, I walked slowly, not wanting her to feel in control. Never mind that I’d encouraged her somewhat by indicating I would join the network of pet rescuers she now ran. Before I descended more than a couple of steps, I heard a noise behind me. I turned back.

Miguel Rohrig was there. Where had he come from? Once I’d learned that Bethany had lived in an apartment upstairs, I’d assumed Miguel stayed there with her . . . while she was alive. I’d no idea where he lived now. Here, still?

And where had he been on the night of Bethany’s murder?

He suddenly joined me on the step I’d reached. “Lauren. Hi. Got a few minutes? I’d like to chat with you.”

I glanced up toward the porch where Cricket remained. She glowered at me, her look stating that she wanted me gone. Immediately. Just as her words and actions had suggested only a minute ago.

Only one response I could make. “Of course, Miguel. I’d like to talk to you, too. Where—here, on the porch?”

He glanced at Cricket. “Why don’t we go grab a drink?”

His meaning was obvious. He didn’t want her to listen in.

“Fine with me,” I said. “See ya.” I waved to Cricket and walked down the steps more spiritedly, Miguel beside me.