Howl Deadly (16 page)

When I was nearly done with my pet-sitting stuff for the evening, I called Doggy Indulgence to ensure that my dearest buddy was still indulging doggies. He was, and he promised to wait for me.

I soon parked and rushed inside the building, where some of his human staff members were still signing doggies out and into the custody of their owners. Lexie leaped toward me from where she had probably been sleeping—on one of the people-type furnishings at one side of the large play facility.

I picked her up and walked toward Darryl, who was just saying farewell to a cute cocker mix and her middle-aged owner. He lifted his hand in greeting, and in a moment motioned me to follow him to his office.

“You look awful, Kendra,” he said without preamble, which made me feel even worse. “What’s going on?”

Lexie lay down in my lap as I sat facing Darryl’s desk and let him know how frustrated I’d become. “It’s hard to look into a murder from an hour or more’s ride away. And when the suspects I want to prove innocent remain uncooperative, it’s even worse. Plus, what little info I’ve learned is likely to be inaccurate, but even if it’s true, I’m not in the inner circle to be able to understand what it means.” I explained the fingerprint fiasco.

My loving, lanky friend peered at me over his wire-rims. “I see two options, Kendra. Number one, go to HotWildlife for a week or so, do your investigation, and see if you can figure out who killed Jon Doe. For your own satisfaction, if not Dante’s and Brody’s. It’s something you’re good at, like it or not.”

I let my mind swirl around that possibility, watching my friend for a sign of sarcasm. None. “But my law work. And my pet-sitting.”

“You’ll need to figure out if you can afford the time from your attorneying. I’m sure Wanda would be glad to continue helping on the pet-sitting front. She’s doing fine with her own clients, but she’s always willing to help a friend.” The sweet and sappy expression on Darryl’s face confirmed how proud he was of her, and how much they were in love.

Which made me utterly happy for him . . . despite my ugly jostle of jealousy due to my current Dante-related predicament.

“And door number two?” I inquired.

“Just drop it,” he said. “One way or another, the authorities will decide who killed Jon Doe, and why. They solve a lot of situations. And I gather Dante and you are currently not quite as close as you’d seemed, so even if they zero in on him, that might be the long-term answer for you.”

“I can’t say I like that alternative,” I grumbled.

“I doubted you would—but you don’t have to decide now. Think it over. And be sure to let me know the way you go.”

I gently set Lexie on the floor, stood, and hugged Darryl. “Thanks for always being there for me,” I said.

“Even if you don’t like my advice,” he responded with a grin.

 

 

 

BY THE TIME Lexie and I Escaped to our home, I realized Darryl was right. There were only two possibilities: dig in and find the killer, or get out of it and stop stewing.

As if I could do the latter. Stop stewing, I mean. But the idea of butting out had started to sound pretty good.

Except . . . When I pushed the button to open the security gate outside my driveway, I felt my jaw drop nearly to the floor.

Dante’s silver Mercedes was parked inside.

Not that it had never happened before. Rachel knew Dante, and had sometimes let him in so he could wait for me, but not for the past few weeks.

Probably because Dante hadn’t shown up on my doorstep, except in my company.

But now . . . What was he doing here?

Guess I had to go in to find out.

I parked in my usual spot at the side of the garage. Dante was with Rachel, both of them watching Beggar and Wagner romp on the roomy lawn of my rented-out mansion. Lexie joined the pups as the humans both approached me.

“I hope it’s okay that I let Dante in,” Rachel said anxiously. “I saw him waiting outside.”

“It’s fine,” I said, hoping it was true. My eyes were glued to Dante’s chiseled features and his dark, unfathomable eyes. He had put an office-type white shirt on over his tight, casual jeans. Was this visit business or pleasure or both?

“See you both later.” Rachel hastily made her getaway. Guess she had sensed the tension in the air.

She went into the main house with Beggar, while Lexie joined Wagner on the lawn.

“So, what brings you here, Dante?” I asked oh, so casually. Not that we’d actually been arguing, but the tension that had somehow grown between us seemed to be reaching a palpable crescendo at this moment. I considered clapping to see if the air would explode around us.

“I think you know, Kendra,” Dante responded, his sexy voice in a quite canine growl. “We need to talk.”

 

 

HE’D BROUGHT THE fixings for dinner! How could I refuse?

He had done that before, when he’d initially intended to impress me: acted as top chef right in my own kitchen, more than once. As if someone of his wealth, power—and sexiness—needed to do more to be impressive.

And he’d succeeded.

I helped him retrieve a couple of grocery bags from the trunk of his car and carry them upstairs. I unlocked my apartment door, and we all went in—Dante, our doggies, and me.

We put the stuff on the kitchen counter—what little there was of it in the small room in which I cooked and ate at a tiny round table.

“So what’s on the menu?” I inquired.

“Entirely up to you,” he said, and suddenly I was in his arms—and the subject of one really hot, sexy kiss.

“Oh,” I eventually whispered. I wasn’t sure I could say anything more.

“If you meant,” he whispered against my lips, “what food we’ll be eating tonight, I’m making beef stroganoff and a nice salad.”

“Oh,” I said again.

“And we’ll talk over dinner, okay?”

I thought about saying “oh” again, but decided against it. “Sure,” I said instead, attempting to put some nonchalance in my tone.

For a while, all we talked about was who was boiling the water for the pasta, who was stirring the stroganoff sauce, who was cutting which fresh veggies for the salad. Since this had been his idea, I suppose I could have adjourned to the living room and watched TV news while Dante did it all.

But staying in his company at this moment, with no nasty comments, innuendoes, or unanswered questions shouting between us . . . well, for now, it was bliss.

After checking with Dante, I fed Wagner along with Lexie—a whole lot more for the German shepherd than the sleek Cavalier. We both fed our babies nutritious stuff—from HotPets, of course, and I had plenty.

Dante had also brought wine—a nice Chianti that didn’t have to be refrigerated. And soon, we sat down at my tiny table, with our salad bowls and wineglasses before us, the scent of a potentially delicious dinner hovering in the air.

We looked at one another.

Lord, that man was one handsome dude! I still couldn’t believe someone so suave and rich could seem so attracted to me.

And I still didn’t know whether he’d murdered Jon Doe.

I suppose that reflection must have shown in my eyes. “Time for our discussion,” Dante said, the suggestive sexiness in his gaze suddenly replaced by total shuttering.

He was good at that, too.

“Sure.” I attempted to sound eager. “What are we talking about?”

He hesitated for an instant—not something Dante did often. “You know how I feel about you, Kendra,” he began, sounding simmeringly angry about it.

“Maybe,” I responded cautiously. He’d acted attracted to me since the instant we’d met, but was only sometimes happy about it. And the last few days, since the Jon Doe incident, he’d seemed withdrawn, perhaps because of my suspicions about him.

Although I hadn’t exactly vocalized them.

“I care about you a lot!” he all but shouted, as if he instead was chewing me out for some infraction of the man-woman rules. On the tiled floor below us, the dogs shifted and even cowered a bit. “Sorry,” Dante finished, aiming his apology at me—or the dogs?

“I . . . care about you, too,” I said in a much more subdued tone.

“I knew, during the last murder you investigated, that you thought for a while I could have killed our
Animal Auditions
judge Sebastian. But I didn’t, and I also didn’t take your suspicions very seriously. You kept them discreet, and didn’t let them interfere in our relationship. But now—”

He stopped, and a slew of unspoken words seemed to swirl around my head.

He knew I suspected him in Jon Doe’s death. What could I say to that—except, perhaps, to admit it?

“Now,” I said softly, “there’s another murder on my radar—someone else we were both acquainted with. You, perhaps, better than I . . . ?”

Okay, there was his opening, if he intended to confess all. Or even part.

“Because I care about you, Kendra, and because I don’t want you getting hurt due to things you don’t know about, I’m going to violate all sorts of oaths I took years ago and tell you a few things tonight—as long as you take an oath of your own, to me, that this will go no further. No matter what happens. Not even if I’m arrested for this murder. Or if Brody is. If that happens, we’ll take care of it. Got it? And also, you absolutely may not discuss it with Ned Noralles, or even your buddy the private investigator.”

He knew Jeff’s name, but who cared? He was going to entrust me with some secret, which made my insides sing with pride.

“I promise,” I told him. “I won’t tell anyone anything you say.”

“Good.” He suddenly wasn’t across the table from me, but right beside me, and once more I was in his arms. “This isn’t easy to talk about now,” he muttered into my ear. “And I’m not about to tell you all the details. It’s all on a need-to-know basis. Okay?”

“Yes,” I confirmed again, and then we kissed once more.

But in another moment, we were back at the table, eating stroganoff. And I was spellbound as Dante revealed what little he intended to say.

“Jon Doe wasn’t his real name,” he began. “I think you’ve figured that out. His initials were the same, though: J.D. Brody and I both knew him many years ago. We worked with him until things went south at the government agency where we all were employed. J.D. was sent to federal prison. He must have gotten out recently, one way or another, and gone undercover to get revenge against us, or at least that’s our speculation. His disguise was excellent. Neither of us recognized him, at least not at first, and we’re still looking into the situation. We’re pretty certain that the man you know as Jon Doe was determined to kill us.”

 

 

 

I’D PRIMED MYSELF for a whole passel of information. Instead, as we finished eating, Dante only passed along tantalizing bits of data.

Which I remained unsure whether to believe. At least some of it.

Number one: Dante would not divulge Jon Doe’s real name, only confirm he’d kept the same initials.

Number two: Dante, Brody, and the man recently known as Jon Doe did work together in the past, at a government agency, doing covert operations. Dante wouldn’t name further names, including which agency, but he revealed that Brody and he had discovered some nasty stuff going on at the top. They’d gone to other government sources and ratted out their supervisors. Jon Doe had sided with the slimeballs in authority—and those same slimeballs had repaid him nastily, by making him their scapegoat. The result: the guys at the top cleaned up their act and stayed where they were. Jon Doe got sent to a federal penitentiary for quite a few years. And Dante and Brody had been warned they were toast.

Brody’s way of dealing with it was to live his life in the public eye. That way, if anyone went after him, all he had to do was start talking to his adoring public.

Dante’s was to go public a different way—with lots of money and authority behind him, but with his face remaining out of the news.

His former cronies—apparently highly placed government guys—probably knew who he was, but also recognized how powerful he had become. And didn’t want to mess with him, at least not yet.

In any event, Jon Doe had recently weaseled his way into HotWildlife, probably seeking revenge. Had he finished serving his sentence first? Perhaps he was on parole, but Dante hadn’t been able to ascertain that yet. If he wasn’t, then he’d escaped from prison.

Either way, was he acting on his own or on orders from his former higher-ups, who also wanted to avenge themselves on the men who’d caught and stopped them?

And had they been the ones to dispose of Doe? Or had someone else learned who and what he was, and decided on his expendability?

Either way, that fingerprint stuff was interesting, though it did not settle the issue of who and why. The federal prisoner’s prints were clearly in the system, but the fact that his identity wasn’t disclosed could simply be a mix-up somewhere along the line.

Or it could have been an intentional cover-up to assist the man then known as Doe infiltrate HotWildlife and deal with Dante and Brody.

Then again, the murder might not have had anything at all to do with their hidden pasts.

And didn’t all these twists and turns sound like some kind of bizarre thriller novel instead of a murder mystery?

No matter. Dante and I soon finished eating. We decided to take the dogs out for a short walk before bed.

That was when Dante finished with what he had intended to say—still not answering any of my inquiries in depth.

“I want your help now, Kendra.” He kissed me beneath a streetlight as the dogs stopped to do their nighttime doggy duty. “I know the sheriff’s department thinks they have an exciting suspect or two, and they’re wearing blinders about the truth. Can you get some time off from your pet-sitting and law obligations, and hang out around HotWildlife with me till we solve Doe’s killing?”