Feline Fatale (25 page)

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 pet-sitting 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 afternoon 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.”

“I’ll let Lexie loose,” I told him. “Mind sitting over there for a little chat?” I pointed to a bench that wasn’t far away, and we three humans all headed there.

As he had the last time, Paulino put his backpack on the ground. “What’s up?” he asked. “I haven’t seen anything new on TV about the investigation into Margaret’s death.”

I shook my head sadly. “They don’t exactly keep me in the loop.” I didn’t even know what they’d said or done to Paulino in response to his raiding Margaret’s condo unit, but doubted he was about to tell me.

I noticed a guy come through the gate with a German shepherd resembling Wagner. The dog stayed at his side despite the distraction of all the other pups in the park, obviously well-trained. Like a K-9. Had Candace Melamed sent him as an undercover observer?

We chatted a little more before I said, “I mostly just wanted to touch base with you, see if you had any more ideas about who might have wanted to hurt Margaret. The police haven’t let go of the idea of my friend Wanda, and though it’s really up to them to solve the case, I still would like to help.”

“I’ve told them all I know. And you, too.”

“That’s what I figured. Look at our dogs.” I pointed a little distance away, where his pups seemed to be playing a game of keep-away with Lexie, using a rag toy as bait. “That’s so cute!” I reached into my purse and brought out my cell phone. “I’ll get a picture. Hey, come over here and you can help me pose them.”

Which he did. Both of us played for a short while with the dogs, tossing the toy between us so the pups kept dashing from one of us to the other.

They eventually grew bored, and so did I. Besides, I believed my objective had been achieved. I led Paulino back toward the bench, where Brody had remained, cheering us on.

“There’s one more thing I wanted to run by you,” I told Paulino. “Did you know there was a runaway kitten that was in Margaret’s apartment before anyone found her body?” He didn’t. I explained the whole bit about the missing collar and name tag. “Her name is Lady Cuddles. It just seemed much too coincidental that her identification disappeared around the same time Margaret died. There’s some speculation that the killer stole them. Maybe they contained a clue, like a bit of blood.”

“Strange,” Paulino said, not sounding especially interested.

We talked for a little while longer, Brody easily answering Paulino’s questions about his acting career—and, yes, he already had an accountant, so unfortunately didn’t need Paulino’s services.

Then I said, “Know what? I forgot to bring any treats for Lexie. Do you have any extra in there?” I motioned toward his backpack, which was still on the ground.

“Sure.” He lifted it and unzipped the top.

I leaped up and sideways and said, “Hey, look at that!” as I shoved my way toward Paulino, my hand beneath his backpack. I upended it, and a bunch of contents tumbled to the ground.

Including a small white cat collar with a little blue name tag.

“What’s that?” Brody asked.

I gasped. “It looks like Lady Cuddles’s!” I pulled a tissue from my purse and picked it up, as though attempting to ensure I didn’t erase any evidence. I’d been observing that guy with the shepherd staying somewhat nearby, so I spoke loudly enough to provide a clue, if needed. I checked the name tag. “It says Lady Cuddles,” I confirmed, sounding quite shaken. “Paulino, I thought you said you didn’t know the kitten. And—”

“I didn’t. I don’t. And I don’t know how that got there.” He sounded panicked. Was this proof—or at least an indication—of his guilt?

And then he looked at Brody and grinned. “How’d I do, Mr. Avilla? Did I pass your audition? I assume you stuck it there to see how I’d react, in case you needed someone to act in one of your films. Or an
Animal Auditions
show. ’Cause I didn’t put it there, and I certainly didn’t kill Margaret.”

Thing was, I believed him. About not killing Margaret, I mean. I already knew he didn’t shove the collar into his backpack. Brody had done that while Paulino and I were playing with the dogs, using one of the new ones that I’d stuck into my purse.

Interesting reaction, though. I caught the disgusted sneer and shake of the head on the guy I figured was sent by Detective Melamed. He and his dog headed toward the exit.

So did Brody, Lexie, and I, soon afterward. We didn’t exactly admit our rationale to Paulino. Maybe he guessed the truth but decided to turn it around in his favor.

Brody, good sport that he was, even said he’d keep Paulino and his excellent reaction in mind for future productions he was involved in.

So far, I’d gotten two entirely different reactions by using the new collar for bait. Would it really help me figure out who’d killed Margaret?

At this point, I didn’t know. And I still had a cast of thousands—well, at least several other potential suspects—to try it on.

PROBLEM WAS, MY scenario could get awfully time-consuming. But till I figured out the actual killer, I’d need to stay involved.