Howl Deadly (6 page)

“Can I see the wolf pups first?” Rachel asked.

“Sure,” I said. “We’ll all go to the infirmary, where they’re being cared for. That’s where Wagner is most likely to pick up the scent of their missing mama. Right, Dante?”

“We’ll start there,” he confirmed, “to see if he senses anything. If not, we’ll go to the enclosure where she stayed when she first got here, before the pups were born.”

We passed the main office building, just as Megan Zurich exited, clad in casual jeans and a HotWildlife T-shirt. She smiled at Wagner but warned, “Better try to keep him calm and not too close to the habitats, or we’ll have a lot of stressed-out animals here.”

“Got it,” Dante agreed.

At the infirmary, I accompanied Rachel inside, and we watched while Dante and Brody encouraged Wagner to sniff around the comfortable enclosed area where the mama had given birth. The pups were nearby, in an even more comfy nest where a warming pad had been added below the surface, in a simulation of mother’s heat. At the moment, the babies were alone, but I noticed Jon Doe in the rear area, apparently concocting their next nutrition.

I oohed and ahhed over them for a few minutes along with Rachel, while Dante and Brody followed Wagner, whose nose was to the concrete floor. His presence was duly noted by other infirmary inhabitants, judging by the nervous reaction of the aging coyote and young raccoons. He soon headed toward the rear exit, and I followed. Was he tracking mama’s scent as she slipped out of HotWildlife?

Could be, since he continued down the main outdoor path between the large habitats of the other wild inhabitants. We passed some visitors who eyed us curiously, but we offered no explanation for the German shepherd or his entourage. I heard lots of rustles and growls from beastly residents as they, too, noted the presence of the calm, tracking canine.

At the far end of the sanctuary, Wagner stopped at the closed gate and growled. It was a locked barrier, but Megan, who’d also trailed us, used a key to get it open.

To no avail. Once Wagner was outside, he apparently lost the scent. Maybe someone with a car had scooped up mama wolf. Maybe there were simply too many other aromas that confused poor Wagner. He sat down and stared up at Dante in seeming dejection, as if aware of how important his assignment had been to the man he adored.

We all trooped back to the infirmary, Wagner included. “In a few minutes, I’ll take him to the area where the wolf was before giving birth,” Dante said. “But first I’ll let him retrace this path in case he missed an area where she veered off.”

When we got back inside, Jon Doe, Krissy, and Anthony all held wolf pups and their bottles. A crowd of visitors had gathered to watch outside the glass, all with emotional smiles. Jon gave what seemed like an impromptu educational lecture.

“In a few weeks,” he said loudly, to be heard where we were, “if their mother isn’t located, we’ll have to prepare special food to wean them. Wild wolves eat meals generally composed of their own prey, then regurgitate it so their pups can start learning the tastes. I’d rather let my own food digest, so we’ll try something else to feed them.”

“I’ll bet the suppliers of HotPets products can come up with something,” said Krissy, who’d spotted Dante, and smiled at him as if he could do absolutely anything.

Which, maybe, he could—at least when it came to finding ideal animal supplies.

He smiled back at her. For an instant, I wanted to kick him so he’d remember my presence. But if he wanted to react to Krissy’s obvious adoration, that was between them.

Even if it irritated the hell out of me.

Anthony had apparently been primed to participate in the lecture, too, since he inserted some comments about how the baby wolves felt in his arms. It seemed utterly adorable to me to see this large high school football player type being so sweet to such tiny animals. In fact, I’d learned he actually was a football player who was hoping for a college scholarship soon.

Anthony compared the wolflet he held with a domesticated canine pup. He was large enough that hanging onto the small animal seemed nearly a juggling act to him, a little awkward but absolutely tender. “When they’re this little,” he announced, “they don’t know they’re wild animals yet. Or at least they don’t act any wilder than the babies of any pet dog. But when they start getting weaned, they sometimes bite the face that feeds them. Of course their wild mothers quickly show them who’s the alpha of their little pack, but she wants them to learn to fend for themselves.”

I stayed with Rachel in the observing crowd as Dante and Brody left once more with Wagner. They soon returned, just as the pups finished their bottles. I watched as Dante took Wagner into the room behind the nesting area, where supplies were kept. Jon Doe was there, too, and Krissy and Anthony joined them.

Only, Anthony looked pissed. He aimed a glare toward Doe, and I saw his fists clench before he stomped away.

“What was that about?” I asked, curious, as I caught up with him.

“The guy’s nuts,” Anthony responded, not, at this moment, the easygoing big guy I’d thought he was. “He’s told me I can’t feed the pups anymore. Said I’m too big, liable to drop one. But I’m always careful.”

“I’m sure you are,” I soothed, but when I looked around to see if I could smooth things over with Jon Doe, I saw him exchange a look with Dante that I simply couldn’t read. I wasn’t exactly sure why, but I suspected he wasn’t conveying the same message I’d intended.

Brody stayed in the observation area with Rachel and me and the rest of the onlookers, who had just started to disperse. “I’m heading back to L.A. tonight,” he told us.

“Me, too,” Rachel said.

“So are we,” I told Brody. “Or at least Dante said we’d go home if Wagner didn’t come up with something for us to follow up on. From what I saw, he didn’t.”

“Finding something else is my assignment, too.” Brody sounded grim.

“Do you think there’s something going on around here that resulted in the disappearance of the wolf?” I attempted to assume an air of total innocence. “I mean, a wolfnapping or someone trying to make HotWildlife look bad . . . or anything else?”

Brody shrugged his movie-star shoulders beneath his green knit shirt. “Who knows?”

You might know
, I thought, but he clearly wasn’t going to give me any guesses.

We hung around through most of the day. Dante only became more frustrated as he attempted to use Wagner’s services to find a mama wolf clue. I accompanied Rachel to the paths outside the various wild animals’ habitats, and we both had an enjoyable time observing. Midday, I slipped back into the infirmary and successfully begged Megan to let Rachel and me give the pups their bottles.

I didn’t pay a lot of attention, but I noticed Jon Doe moving all over the sanctuary, doing his caretaking duties.

By the end of the day, a lot more visitors had come through the sanctuary’s gates. Rachel left, wanting to hurry home to retrieve Lexie from doggy daycare and help with the evening’s pet-sitting, and I thanked her again for all she’d done.

A while later, Brody, whom I hadn’t seen much of during the day, said it was also time for him to go. “I’ve got a meeting early tomorrow on our next
Animal Auditions
season, so I need to get some sleep tonight.”

I said goodbye to him, then looked idly around for Dante. Didn’t see him, but I did note that Wagner was leashed beneath a shady tree in an area of the sanctuary distant from the wild animals. Where had Dante gone without his best friend?

A couple of questions had come to me about the mama wolf’s disappearance, but when I dropped into Megan’s office to ask them, she wasn’t there.

The day was drawing to a close. We would probably hurry back to Dante’s cabin, pick up our stuff, and return to L.A. within the next hour, before the sun set.

I just might have one more opportunity to hug, and feed, a wolf pup. I wasn’t sure when we’d be back—especially without additional clues to mama wolf’s whereabouts. Maybe not till after the babies were weaned—and they’d be more active then, with eyes open and looking around for regurgitated prey.

The crowd of visitors had thinned. Not many around now. I took the opportunity to slip into the infirmary to see if I could beg anyone to let me feed the babies.

And noticed Jon Doe in the area behind the nesting place once more. Good. I’d ask him.

As I glanced beyond the enclosure where the pups slept, I saw that Jon was sitting on the floor. That seemed a bit strange, but maybe he was getting his second wind after all his work that day.

I went to the entrance of the back room and opened the door. Walked inside.

And gasped.

Jon Doe wasn’t simply resting on the floor. He was covered in blood. Unmoving. At an odd angle.

“Damn it,” I muttered to myself as I approached and said aloud, “Jon? Jon, can you hear me?”

When I touched his neck, searching for a pulse, there was none.

Jon Doe appeared to be dead.

 

 

I’VE OFTEN SAID I’m a murder magnet, and it’s true. As a result, I know what to do besides scream when I stumble upon a dead body.

Of course I screamed, as I stepped back on the hard concrete floor, stopped touching things that could possibly be evidence, and extracted my cell phone from my pocket to call 911.

Then I called Dante, in case he was too far away to hear my screams.

Megan must have been closer, since the sanctuary’s director was the first to run into the infirmary. Strange, all the stuff I noticed. Her hair was still clipped into the same barrette, but she had changed clothes, and was again wearing her beige vest with multiple pockets. What was she doing that evening—giving a lecture on wildlife somewhere?

And was that the reason she had changed clothes, or had she gotten Jon Doe’s blood on her earlier duds?

Okay, I had no particular reason to suspect her, except that she was here and had known Jon Doe.

“What’s the matter, Kendra?” she immediately demanded, then followed my line of sight along the back room’s floor, and gasped.

She hurried toward the body. “Jon? Jon, are you okay?”

I grabbed her as she started to kneel. “Don’t touch anything,” I said in a quivering voice. “We don’t want to destroy any evidence.”

“Evidence?” She stood up again and looked at me with shocked, enormous eyes. “Is he—did someone—?”

I finished it for her. “Yes, it looks like someone stabbed him, and I think . . . he’s gone.”

No, my initial reaction hadn’t been to believe that a wild animal, in this sanctuary for feral creatures, was the killer.

Not with a bloody knife lying on the floor beside Jon. And I had to assume that the suspect watched at least some of the same crime shows on TV that I did. I’d have bet a week’s worth of pet-sitting proceeds that there were no fingerprints on the weapon.

I heard sounds from inside the infirmary, including the shrill cries of the wolf pups. Oh, heavens, were they okay? I hadn’t noticed anything wrong with them as I’d dashed in. They’d seemed to be sleeping. But had anything happened to them, too? Although I heard multiple yaps, I couldn’t really tell if there were two or three yappers. As people started streaming in from outside, I hurried to the viewing area and checked our little charges.

Yes! All three stood on wobbly legs, eyes still closed, most likely shrieking from being awakened by my screams—and, oh, by the way, if we happened to want to feed them now, they’d be pleased.

No, I don’t know wolf-pup-speak any more than I can speak Barklish with Lexie, Wagner, or my pet-sitting doggy charges, but I’m often intuitive in discerning what animals attempt to communicate. Or at least I think I am.

I moved back the way I’d come, to block the hordes from heading into the back area. Not everyone would try it, of course, but among the crowd were Krissy, Anthony, caretakers and other employees, and volunteers. I took a deep breath and said, “There’s been an accident, folks. I need for you to step outside and hang around until the authorities arrive.”

Which was when Dante plowed in. I’d bawled enough into my cell phone to convey what I’d discovered, and he gallantly started backing up my orders.

Only later did I wonder where he’d been from the time I’d called until the time he arrived.

 

 

 

THE EMTS ARRIVED only a few minutes before the cops. I wasn’t sure what was communicated to the volunteer staffing the front gate, but presumably she knew better than to keep the authorities out. In any event, I was herded outside by the San Bernardino Sheriff’s Department to join the milling crowd I had commanded to wait there.

It was hot as the sun beat down. I longed to stroll the paths of the sanctuary, peek into the carefully constructed habitats, and spy on the cheetahs and coyotes and mountain lions. Predators all, they wouldn’t blink at the presence of a dead body. But they used teeth and claws, not a human-manufactured blade, to bring down their prey. They hadn’t had anything to do with Jon Doe’s demise.

I would rather have departed HotWildlife, but I knew the drill. No one could leave until the authorities had released them. And that wouldn’t occur until we’d all been interrogated.

I looked around in the crowd for Dante, wondering why he hadn’t joined me. Surprisingly, he seemed deeply engaged in a conversation—with Brody! I thought Brody had left a long while ago to head back to L.A. Why was he here?

Wagner sat at their feet. Krissy hovered nearby in the mass of people, as if she, too, was hanging on every word of Dante’s. Anthony was at her side.

I stood in a group of strangers. Maybe that was a good thing, for now. I used the opportunity to make a call.

“Hi, Ned,” I said when Detective Ned Noralles of the Los Angeles Police Department answered his cell. “Guess what?”