Howl Deadly (17 page)

 

 

 

OKAY, SO HE didn’t mean immediately. And in actuality, he abhorred the idea. Which annoyed me.

But I believed he told the truth. At least a taste of it.

“I think I’m beginning to know you, Kendra,” he told me the next morning, snuggled up against me in bed. “Sergeant Hura called to let me know about your latest questions—and made it clear that your interfering wouldn’t sway him from arresting Brody or me if he felt like it . . . or at least if he thought he had adequate evidence, and he implied he was getting there. I’m sure my begging you to butt out won’t get me anywhere. Plus, you’re smart, and you’re experienced in murder investigations. I’ve learned in business to always take advantage of whatever assets drop into my lap—and you’re definitely one of those.”

I didn’t want to start my day being annoyed at this hunk—but it was time to tell him off, at least a little. “So you made those interesting but incomplete revelations last night, and invited me to save your butt—a really nice butt, by the way—just to keep me from contacting that cop again?”

His nod sent shivers through me.

“I’d also appreciate it if you’d tell Ned Noralles to back off. I’d do it myself, but he’s more likely to listen to you.”

“So what evidence do you think Frank Hura has against you? And against Brody?”

“Tell you what. This isn’t exactly a time I want to get down to those cold non-facts. Let’s get up and get dressed—much as I regret the idea—and we’ll talk over breakfast. I’ll take you out to a place we can bring the dogs.”

But talk about regret—I had to pass on the idea of eating out. Our delightful activities had made me get out of bed later than I’d intended, and I had pet-sitting to do.

So, instead, after showering, dressing, and walking our pups, we grabbed a quick breakfast of cereal and coffee at home.

And all I learned from Dante about any evidence against him, as we sat once more at my small kitchen table with Lexie and Wagner watching our every move, was that he really didn’t know.

“They seem to be aware that Jon Doe had a criminal record, despite their denial of learning of it through his fingerprints. You’d think they’d know his real identity now, but there’s still apparently some confusion. They haven’t found family or anyone else to claim Doe’s body. I couldn’t get from Hura why they’re suspicious of Brody and me, but whatever they think they’ve discovered somehow involves us. That underscores my belief that Doe’s being here was a setup, but I still don’t have concrete information. If it’s true, looking into Doe’s death could be damned dangerous—and since I don’t think I can convince you to stay out of it altogether”—he looked at me hopefully, but scowled when I shook my head—“I want you beside me every moment that you’re sticking your nose into this situation. Got it?”

“I hear you,” I said. And wanted to believe him. I really did. But all this talk of covert stuff and conspiracies made me wonder about this amazingly sexy guy’s sanity. Even as it stoked my curiosity even more. “Did Frank Hura ask you whether you knew Jon Doe before?”

“Yes, but I said I wasn’t sure. And that’s mostly the truth. All I’ve actually got is suspicions—albeit strong ones—and your buddy Esther Ickes told me never to speculate. She’s a great criminal attorney, by the way. I love the way her mind works—nice and devious for such an innocent-looking little old lady. Anyway, Jon Doe didn’t really look much like the guy with the same initials I used to know. If it was him, he’d lost a lot of weight, grown a lot older, and his hair got really gray. And long. And that goatee—that was definitely not part of the fellow I thought he might be.”

I moved my cereal around in my bowl with my spoon, looking for some that had stayed crunchy despite the generous helping of milk I’d poured on. “So did Frank Hura even give you a hint of what could possibly lead to arresting Brody and you?”

“No, but I’m afraid that time is coming soon, unless I solve Doe’s murder myself.” I must have made some kind of irritated sound that reflected my annoyance, since Dante caught my eye over the cup of coffee he’d lifted to his lips. “With your very able assistance. Or, more likely, the way things go with you, you’ll solve the murder with my minor help.” He moved his cup and grinned.

I couldn’t help grinning back—confidently, of course.

I really wanted to believe in Dante’s innocence. After all, I was sleeping with the guy.

I only hoped I’d be able to find the real killer—and that it really wasn’t this man who had so gotten under my skin.

 

 

DANTE KEPT IN close touch that day, which was Friday. He was reorganizing his extraordinarily busy schedule to be able to spend next week at his hideaway in the San Bernardino Mountains, checking into who had slain Jon Doe.

He expected I’d be doing the identical thing. Which I was. I lined up Rachel and Wanda and another couple of backups from the Pet-Sitters Club of SoCal, ran around introducing human clients who weren’t yet away from our area to any sitters they might not have met, and tried to swallow my sorrow at not currently being as reliable as I’d like. But I’d fix that once this murder was solved.

I also met with Borden and other Yurick firm attorneys to ensure that any legal issues that might arise next week were well handled. Fortunately, Borden had hired a bunch of good people. I especially liked Elaine Aames’s attitude. She was a senior attorney who had inherited Gigi, the Blue and Gold Macaw who often hung around the office to speak her mind.

As part of Dante’s preparations to get out of town for the next business week, I knew he was crowding a bunch of meetings into the weekend. With his money and authority, no supplier or store manager would dare to say no to spending their weekend that way.

Which meant, when Saturday morning rolled around, I had no plans to see Dante that day. Probably not Sunday, either, but I’d deal with one day at a time. We talked often, confirming our plans for the following week. And, gee, I never got around to divulging my designs on this weekend.

And so, without telling him, Lexie and I headed to HotWildlife right after completing our Saturday morning pet-sitting. I intended to return in time for the evening’s duties, and, as usual these days, Rachel took over any midday dog walking—fortunately, there was only one taker at the moment.

I wasn’t idle on the way there, either. Sure, I drove and talked to Lexie, who sat safely in the back seat, behind the divider I’d gotten along with my Escape. But she wasn’t the only one I spoke with.

Hands free, as we sailed east along the freeway, I used my electronic system to call Althea. Yes, I had her cell number. She wasn’t always chained to her computer at Hubbard Security.

“Hi, Kendra,” she answered immediately. “And the answer is no. I’d have called if I’d learned what you asked me yesterday—the name of an inmate who’d escaped or been released from the federal prison system recently whose initials were J.D. I still wish you hadn’t been so closemouthed about it. I assume this is related to the murdered Jon Doe, but—”

“You’re right, but I promised my source not to discuss it. And I haven’t confirmed a thing—right?—in case you’re asked.”

“Correct. I’m intrigued, though, and will continue looking. But since I’m spending so much time, I’ll have to tell Jeff.”

“Sure, but no details, please.” I rolled my eyes, but not too far—I had to keep them on the road.

“And as far as the rest of our deal . . . ?”

“Yes, I’ll agree to see him again. But I’m really busy at the moment, and probably all of next week.”

“Okay, as long as I can tell him you’ll see him soon.”

“Absolutely,” I said as I hung up, wishing it weren’t so. Jeff Hubbard was not a martyr sort, nor a glutton for punishment. I had to somehow discourage his futile hope of winning me back. I’d never consider him my guy again.

And not just because Dante was in my life. Especially since, at the moment, I wasn’t sure how long that might be.

Not only was Dante a murder suspect, both in my estimation and in the San Bernardino County Sheriff-Coroner’s Department’s, but he was used to wielding absolute authority.

And at the moment, I was disobeying what amounted to a direct order from him. I was working on my own investigation of Jon Doe’s death today without staying in Dante’s presence. Yes, it was sweet of him to attempt to protect me. But he’d warned me, and I would be careful, and that would be enough.

Besides, if he asked, I could say that, today, I really wasn’t working on the Jon Doe murder. I was after whoever had wolfnapped the missing mama.

Which meant that I intended to visit Warren Beell, who’d dumped her at HotWildlife.

I’d Googled him further than I had before, confirmed the info on where he lived, and called to make sure he’d be home and not at the car dealership where he worked. I’d told him some of the truth—that I was still damned concerned about mama wolf’s whereabouts, and wanted to see where he’d found her. Especially since I understood how much he cared about animals. I didn’t tell him so, but that was the fruit of my earlier Internet search of his name.

I drove north of the 210 Freeway around the town of Muscoy and to the edge of the mountainous Angeles National Forest. Beell lived in a nice enough housing development, and I parked on a paved residential street.

He answered the door almost immediately when I rang the bell. “Hello, Kendra,” he said, as pleasantly as if he had invited me. The short, stocky guy, dressed in a ratty T-shirt and jeans, looked down along the leash I held. “That’s a cute dog. A Cavalier King Charles spaniel?”

I acknowledged that indeed was Lexie’s breed. “I hope it’s okay that I brought her. I didn’t want to leave her home alone.” Of course, I’d fretted about what to do with her here. What if Warren Beell had some kind of big dog around who ate little pups for lunch?

Or even a hungry mama wolf . . .

“No problem at all,” he said. “We’ll shut her in the kitchen when we go outside. I have things to show you so you’ll understand why I had the wolf here in the first place.”

Interesting
, I thought.

We went through his living room and into his kitchen, all of it messy. I supposed the guy might clean it now and then, but this was absolutely way past “then.”

He moved newspapers from a couple of chairs around a crowded table and invited me to sit. “I was afraid, when you called, that this had something to do with poor Jon Doe. Rumor has it, around HotWildlife, that your hobby is investigating murders.”

“Not exactly,” I said with a rueful shake of my head. “But I’ve been around more than my share of that kind of nightmare.”
And if you happen to want to confess to the killing, that would save me a potentially unpleasant time with Dante in this area next week
. But I didn’t say that.

“Anyway, like it or not, I have a similar situation, where I don’t exactly seek something out, but I’m still saddled with it. In a nice way.”

“What’s that?” I inquired, my curiosity piqued.

“It’s why I had the wolf here. You know they’re not native to California—at least not this part.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“And anyone who keeps a wild animal as a pet is supposed to have a license for it. But my suspicion, especially because the lady wolf was fairly calm around people, is that she was someone’s pet, and whoever it was, dumped her when she got pregnant.”

Which was what the speculation had been about Warren himself.

“Somehow, she knew to come here for help. And she was even tame enough to be coaxed easily into a crate so I could transport her. But the kinds of animals I generally care for—well, come on outside, and I’ll show you.”

Lexie looked dolefully after me as I walked through the door without her, but the instant I was in Warren’s backyard, I was happy she’d stayed where she was.

There were small fenced-in enclosures all over the moderate-sized yard. And there were small animals inside each.

Raccoons. Opossums. A couple of foxes. Even some squirrels.

“I don’t know how it happened, but whenever a creature around here is injured, it shows up on my doorstep. Maybe my neighbors help these days. I’m not sure. But of course I try to take care of them. And, no, before you ask, I’m not licensed, so I’m sort of throwing my life, and theirs, into your hands. If you turn me over and I get arrested or anything, no one will care for these guys. I could ask Megan, of course, but HotWildlife’s full of other, more visible kinds of animals, more endangered than my little buddies.”

I spent time oohing and aahing over nearly every enclosure. Warren hadn’t seemed the nurturing type to me at HotWildlife, especially when he’d been so defensive about dropping mama wolf off there, and being questioned about her. But he appeared awfully caring now. He related stories about how each of his visitors had come for help, and what he had done.

And that’s what they were, visitors. He said he always took care of them till they were healthy enough to release back into the wild.

“Thank heavens that’s the case with all these guys here now,” he said. He got a little teary-eyed. “Sometimes, though, I have to have one euthanized. I have a friendly vet who helps at reduced rates, and no questions asked.”

These temporary visitors were apparently Warren’s family. He looked a little dismayed, running his fingers through his gray hair when I asked if he was married, and, if so, how his wife felt about his avocation.

“No woman around here.” He grinned. “None could live with me.”

When I was done communing with Warren Beell’s version of nature, we walked back inside the house. I felt fairly certain he indeed had nothing to do with mama wolf’s disappearance. He clearly cared about animals, and wouldn’t have done that to her or her pups. Plus, where would he have put her? He had a full house of animal charges.

But I still didn’t feel I’d gotten answers to all I’d come here for.