Howl Deadly (27 page)

Dante definitely obeyed, pulling into the parking lot of a nearby convenience store and parking. We exited our vehicles, and he aimed a perfectly luscious, sexy smile in my direction and said, “I can see those wheels turning in your head. I don’t suppose your idea would be broad enough to encompass catching a murderer, too, would it?”

“I wouldn’t be entirely surprised,” I said with a smile of my own.

FORTUNATELY, MEGAN WAS on board with my odd idea. That was a good thing, since it involved closing down HotWildlife the next day—Saturday, a busy day for visitors—and telling all the staff to stay home till called. We’d accompany her back to the sanctuary a little later to assist her with the calls. We would give everyone the excuse that the sheriff’s investigators were going to be around in the morning, and we’d let people know when things were back to normal and they could report in.

I drove to Dante’s to leave Lexie and my car in charge of the household help he had called in for the occasion.

Then, since we hadn’t wanted to have mama wolf restrained overnight in the back of the truck, we contacted Warren Beell without explaining why. I wanted to see his reaction when we pulled up at his mini rescue facility with the wolf he purported to have saved. We ascertained he was home and not at the car dealership where he worked.

First, though, we took mama wolf to the closest all-hours emergency veterinary clinic to check her health and ensure she wouldn’t bring some contagious sickness back to her babies. She came out with a clean bill of health—and a hefty bill for Dante to pay.

We pulled onto Warren Beell’s residential street, with the Angeles National Forest forming an appealing background, about an hour later. Dante parked in the driveway, and we all got out. I was the one to go up to his door.

I didn’t need to ring the bell. He was waiting for us, and opened the door. “What’s going on, Kendra?” the stocky guy demanded, once again his belligerent self. His uniform at home appeared to be casual unchic, ratty jeans and an even rattier T-shirt.

“We need to board a friend with you for a few hours,” I said. Our plan was to bring mama wolf back to the sanctuary in the wee hours of the morning, once all the usual staff had departed.

“Who’s that?” he asked.

“Come here and see.” I beckoned him to follow me to the enclosed bed of the pickup truck. Dante waited there, standing beside the window. I led Warren to the window, too, and watched him while he looked inside. His reaction, whatever it might be, could tell me whether he did steal mama back and drop her at the Amazing Animal Farm for a while.

“You found her!” His exclamation was full of excitement. “Where was she? Is she okay? Hey, this is great! Of course, I’ll watch her for a few hours. But why aren’t you bringing her right back to her babies?” At the last, he turned to glare at me as if I was mistreating mama wolf even more. Which, sad to say, I might be doing, but there was a good reason for it, and the additional delay would amount to only a short while.

“Have you ever heard of the Amazing Animal Farm?” I asked without exactly answering his question directly.

“I think so. Don’t they provide a petting zoo of sorts for local events?” His puzzled expression could be feigned, of course, but I didn’t believe it was.

“That’s it. Anyway, mama wolf has been there all this time.” I had no answers to his demands about whether the owners were alive, hadn’t they listened to the news about the missing wolf, and the same kinds of questions that I had tried to obtain answers to from Esta at the farm. And what little I did know, or suspect, I wasn’t about to enlighten him with.

Instead, I encouraged him to prepare a place for mama for a little while. Dante and Warren carried the crate, and we used the same kind of treats we had used previously to lure this suspicious, wild canine out of the crate and into her fenced temporary motel.

And then, after again thanking Warren profusely, Dante, Megan, and I headed to HotWildlife.

 

 

 

WE MADE OUR calls quickly and calmly, waking up nearly everyone except the staff already onsite. And then I made an extra call.

Brody, who’d gone back to Dante’s to rest after their grueling session with the sheriff’s department, soon showed up at HotWildlife to help us see to the animals’ needs without the people who were usually there.

Just before dawn, Dante and Megan headed back to Warren Beell’s place for our newfound rescue wolf. When they returned, we immediately put her in the infirmary enclosure with her babies, who’d only recently been fed.

“Is she likely to have any milk to feed them?” I asked Megan.

“Doubtful, after all this time not having them nurse. And we need to keep them under strict observation to ensure she isn’t going to harm them. She may not relate to them as hers anymore.”

But, thankfully, that did not turn out to be the case. Mama looked suspicious when the little ones squeaked their ways over to her. Their eyes were open now, but they would recognize their mother by her scent instead of by sight.

She sniffed them, too. Nuzzled at them. Growled a little as they nipped at her.

And then she lay down and started licking one after the other.

“That’s so beautiful,” I said with a sigh.

“And a big relief, too,” Megan agreed.

 

 

 

THE FIRST EMPLOYEES we summoned back to HotWildlife were some of Jon Doe’s closest coworkers—the other caretakers. On their entry into the sanctuary, Megan sent them to the infirmary, saying there was some work to do there, transporting some food for the sometimes ailing inhabitants.

Three of them arrived at the same time. More would come later. The only one I’d talked to directly was Paul, but Dante and Brody, who were also present, had spoken with the other two about their opinions of Jon Doe.

The men entered the outer area of the infirmary in their work clothes, chatting quietly among themselves, obviously uneasy and a little curious about what was going on. I motioned them to the glass outside the baby wolf habitat.

All three looked inside. “Hey!” Paul said. “She’s back! Where was she?” A familiar question, and it was repeated by the rest. “She looks good. Did someone take care of her?”

“We think so,” I said, without answering the rest.

I watched them all carefully for any sign of discomfort or knowledge or fear, but everything appeared aboveboard in their reactions. Each seemed pleased to see mama, and all were eager to get back to helping care for her.

“Nothing there that I could see,” I said to Dante and Brody after they’d left.

“Not exactly the most scientific or legally admissible evidence,” Brody said dryly, “but I have to concur.”

Dante just nodded. “Who’s next?”

A few of the off-and-on employees were asked to come in, and their reactions turned out to be similar.

Which left the entire roster of frequent sanctuary visitors—and the volunteers. Of course we’d start with the latter, since they were easiest to identify and contact.

We had confirmed that mama had no milk to feed her babies, so I happily stepped in to assist in that task.

They were furrier now, and squirmier, too. Sitting in the back room, I hugged my sweet puppy charge. I knew she would not be handled so much by people as soon as she was weaned. She’d revert to wildness. But for now, I basked in her playful puppy warmth.

It was midafternoon by the time the regular volunteers started trickling in. The first to arrive was Irwin Overland. As a visitor-turned-volunteer, had he developed a belief that he knew more about how to care for the animals than the real staff did?

But his delighted reaction on seeing mama reunited with pups took him off the top of my list. And this sweet, gangly guy didn’t seem the type to have offed Jon Doe for any reason, even considering their minor disagreement. Once again, not exactly the most useful opinion for exoneration, but that was how my instincts led me.

Anthony Pfalzer, the guy with the football player physique, came in along with Krissy Kollings. He could have wrestled a wolf into a crate to take her to the Amazing Animal Farm. He’d already been questioned in depth by the sheriff’s department, who seemed not to consider him a significant suspect in the slaying—even though he, too, had engaged in a minor verbal disagreement with Doe. Even so, the two crimes could actually be unrelated, despite what I had assumed from Gibson Callaway’s otherwise useful clue.

And Krissy? She bugged me, but mostly because of the way she hung on Dante’s every word, not to mention his hand. I didn’t think she’d have either the interest or the stamina to steal a wolf, let alone kill a man. She looked like a pretty airhead, even carried a bigger purse than mine, probably full of makeup instead of stuff to care for pets and take notes with (like me).

But I watched them both as Dante motioned them to look inside the glass-fronted enclosure. I edged closer to him, considering taking his hand to irk Krissy.

“Is that the missing wolf?” Anthony asked. “Awesome!” was his response when I confirmed it. He put his nose to the glass and observed the ongoing reunion inside.

But Krissy . . . Her pretty twenty-something face froze. “Where was she?” she demanded, obviously attempting to get her expression under control. But as I watched, she seemed to melt. Even her curls seemed to come unglued.

“Why don’t you tell me?” I asked, oh, so casually. I darted a glance at Dante and Brody. Had they gotten it, too?

This was our wolfnapper. Could she be a killer, too? Guess we’d have to figure that out.

“How would I know?” she asked with a shrug. And then, edging past me, she slinked her curvy body, clad in tight jeans and an even tighter yellow knit shirt, toward Dante’s. “Isn’t it wonderful that she’s back? I can’t wait to watch her play more with the pups. We could watch her together, Dante.”

“Oh, I doubt it,” he said. “I suspect that Sergeant Hura will be talking with you for a while about her disappearance.” Dante’s smile toward her held absolutely no warmth.

“What do you mean?” Krissy demanded, all defensive huffiness all of a sudden. “Why would he want to talk to me?”

“I think you know that, too,” I said. “Since you’re the one who got the wolf away from here in the first place. I’d love to know how you did it. And why, as well. Oh, and did Jon Doe happen to see you? Was he trying to blackmail you, or—”

“You’ve got it all wrong!” she screamed. “I only wanted Dante to notice me, and I thought that he and I could ‘find’ the wolf together. Only, you were so pushy, Kendra, and he couldn’t see past you. And then I learned that Jon Doe was here for all sorts of underhanded reasons, so I had to protect Dante.” She had reached his side, and looked up at him beseechingly. “I did it all for you.”

“You should have asked me if I wanted you to,” he said calmly, shaking his head. “You could have saved yourself a lot of trouble.”

“You bastard!” she screamed. “You only wanted her! That’s why I decided to make it look like you killed Doe.” And before any of us realized what she was doing, she extracted a wicked-looking knife from her purse and drove it into Dante’s chest.

 

 

“NO!” I SCREAMED.

“Hell, no,” shouted Brody, bounding toward us, aiming a gun.

My scream must have sounded outside as well, since Jeff, too, lunged in with a weapon pointed. Yes, my extra phone call had been to him, requesting his assistance with the animals, if needed—he’s an all-purpose handy sort, in addition to his security expertise.

Good thing they were both armed, since Krissy next seemed interested in stabbing me. I tried to ignore her as much as possible, though, as I sank to the floor beside Dante. The two armed guys immediately got her under control, facedown on the floor, as she shrieked obscenities and attempted to roll away.

“I’m calling 911!” shouted Anthony, bless him.

And beside us, from inside the glass enclosure, came a series of eerie wolf howls.

Dante was bleeding, but his eyes were open, and he smiled at me as I started unbuttoning his shirt. “Keep going,” he said. “Oh, and by the way, she just grazed me. I anticipated who we were after and what she might do, so I moved just enough to prevent being badly hurt.”

I blinked at him. “You knew who it was, and didn’t tell me?” Well, hell. There was a lot that he’d known that he’d chosen to keep to himself. But why this?

“I didn’t know, but I did suspect.” His voice was weaker now, and I saw he was fighting to stay conscious. The brave S.O.B.! Maybe he didn’t think he was
badly
hurt, but that term was definitely relative.

“Why?” I demanded. “And how?” I was no longer watching his face, though. Instead, I bared the big slash along his side—how deep was it?—and peeled his shirt further away. I grabbed onto the only thing I could think of to stem his bleeding. No time to find something sterile, but I’d put on my white T-shirt only that morning. I lifted it quickly over my head, and held it against Dante’s wound.