Howl Deadly (7 page)

“I know that tone,” my former nemesis and now buddy—since I’d helped clear his sister and him from being murder suspects recently—said to me. “Don’t tell me you’re involved in another murder.”

“I can’t not tell you,” I grumbled as quietly as I could so those around me couldn’t easily eavesdrop. “I need your advice.”

“Where are you?” he asked in apparent resignation. Or so it sounded, as best as I could hear amid the hubbub in the parking lot and the static in our connection. “Do you want me to join you?”

“Not necessarily,” I said. “I’m at HotWildlife.”

“If it’s where I think it is, that’s the jurisdiction of the San Bernardino County Sheriff-Coroner’s Department, right?”

Looking toward the nearest uniformed cop who was engaged in crowd control, I studied the official green and yellow patch on the sleeve of her khaki-colored cotton shirt that was tucked into deep green slacks. “Seems so,” I agreed.

“That could be a good thing. I’ve got a couple of buddies there. Tell me what happened.”

I eased my way to the perimeter of the crowd, earning a glare from the same exasperated cop. I smiled as disarmingly as I could, then told Ned what had occurred.

“So this Jon Doe was an employee there?”

I confirmed it.

“Do you know anyone who had anything against him?”

“Not unless he’d located the missing mama wolf and whoever took her was peeved about it.” I’d filled Ned in on that angle of what was going on, too. And I purposely didn’t mention how I’d sensed an undercurrent that seemed generated by Dante and Brody. And my wondering why Brody so conveniently was here just now. Or had he ever left?

“Okay, I’ll call one of my buddies there. I’ll ask him to keep an eye on whoever questions you. Just be as candid as you were with me, and you should be released fairly soon.”

Which I knew, in cop time, could be anywhere from an hour to a few days, but I hoped for the former.

As I hung up my cell, I started meandering through the crowd toward Dante and Brody. Brody spotted me first and lifted his hand in a wave. When I reached them, I basked for an instant under Dante’s warm smile, then said to Brody, “What are you doing here?”

“Dante called when he heard what had happened. I hadn’t gotten far, so I came back to see what was going on.”

And help Dante with whatever investigation he intended to conduct, I suspected. One of these days, I really had to get a grip on their mutual background.

I immediately recalled what I’d seen on the computer after Brody’s search last night. Stuff I didn’t understand.

And stuff about Jon Doe.

Very convenient that Brody hadn’t gotten too close to L.A., and was able to return here at Dante’s call.

Unless he hadn’t gotten far at all for some other reason. Like something to do with Jon Doe’s death?

Damn! I absolutely hoped not. I liked Brody. And if he’d been involved in killing Jon Doe, that undoubtedly meant Dante was an aider and abettor . . . or worse.

 

 

 

WITH THE LARGE crowd at HotWildlife, the local authorities had to make do with the available facilities. I watched as most people were sorted into groups in the warm September air. Sanctuary visitors were herded to several areas, and those with presumably closer ties to HotWildlife were shown to others.

As a person who was present mainly because of close acquaintanceship with the place’s chief money source, I didn’t fit neatly into any characterization. Then again, I had a credential more exciting than most: the person who’d discovered the body. Lucky me.

I mentally kicked my behind for my silent sarcasm. I, in fact,
was
lucky—compared with poor Jon Doe.

I was soon debriefed by a professional and particularly curt woman in a suit. She said she was a detective with the Homicide Detail. But before I’d related the entire story—excluding my concerns and suspicions about Dante and Brody, of course—we were joined by a large guy, also in a suit, whose dark complexion and features suggested Hawaiian extraction.

“I’m Sergeant Frank Hura, Kendra,” he said, holding out his beefy hand to me. His smile suggested I should know him, but I didn’t.

“Hi,” I said tentatively as we shook.

His round face folded into a hint of a frown. Not a good sign, since this cop just might be in charge. “Didn’t Ned Noralles tell you about me?”

I hid my sigh of relief. “No, but I called him to ask his advice a little while ago. He said he had some friends in San Bernardino. You’re one of them?”

“Sure am. I know some of your background with Ned, too, and how irritated he used to be with you—till you helped him out of an ugly situation.” He glanced at the lady detective from the Homicide Detail. “Thanks, Liz. I’ll take over now.”

She seemed to work at erasing an even more annoyed expression and said, “Of course, sir,” before moving off.

“Let’s take a walk,” Frank Hura said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been here, and I like to look at the animals.”

“Me, too.” And the idea of strolling made me happy; much more relaxed than standing, or sitting, face-to-face during an interrogation.

We skirted some pockets of people and headed down the main HotWildlife path, staying on the slightly shadier side, although there were few trees in the sanctuary. We stopped outside the liger enclosure and stared over the moat at the mostly striped feline that was a cross between a lion and tiger.

“So tell me what happened,” Frank said.

I did so, repeating what I’d told the Homicide Detail woman, and then some. I described the disappearance of mama wolf, our worried attempts to find her, and more—up through my entering the infirmary and finding Jon Doe’s crumpled, bloody body.

“So you’re here with Dante DeFrancisco and Brody Avilla?” For a Sheriff’s Department sergeant, he sounded rather star-struck.

“Yes. I’m sure they’re being questioned by someone from your department, but I’d be glad to introduce you to them.”

“Let’s go!” But then he stopped and looked down at me. “They’re potential murder suspects as much as everyone else around here, at least till they’re cleared. But Dante DeFrancisco and Brody Avilla—a megabillionaire and a movie star—how likely is it that either would come here and kill a guy who cleaned animal enclosures for a living?”

“Not likely,” I agreed, hoping it was true.

“Do you know if they knew Jon Doe?” I could tell from his tone that he was hoping I’d say no.

“Well, they talked to him here, of course,” I dissembled. “Jon was helping to nurture the baby wolves and teach everyone how to care for them.”

“I mean other than here,” Frank said.

“Not that I’m aware of,” I said. I crossed my fingers behind my back, just in case. I wasn’t exactly lying. I didn’t really know why Brody had been Googling strange stuff on the Internet and also looking up Jon Doe. And the fact that Dante and Brody exchanged unreadable looks didn’t mean they knew him. Did it?

I intended to assume all things positive. I had no reason to believe Dante or Brody could have harmed the senior citizen who cared for HotWildlife animals.

And even if my murder-magnet mind made me wonder
if
, there was no reason to mention that to this deputy sheriff. Not yet, at least.

I had some checking to do.

 

 

BUT THE CHECKING would have to wait till later, when I could follow up on it.

In a while, Sergeant Hura conducted his own informal follow-up interview of Dante and Brody. I don’t know what the official session was like, but this one was uneventful for the two interviewees, who were absolutely polite and cooperative like the good citizens they were. All their answers supported the position that they were both appalled at Jon Doe’s untimely death, and that they had nothing to do with it.

We all stood in the shade beside a coyote compound at the far end of the sanctuary as the three of them talked and commiserated. Wagner lay down on some grass-covered earth and panted as he watched each of us in turn.

Frank Hura acted utterly star-struck while questioning the two men deferentially, his tone apologetic, as if he had to do this to fulfill his duty while knowing full well they were absolutely innocent. He had spent only a few minutes alone with the detectives who’d done the formal sessions, so for all I knew, this could be a Columbo kind of intended trap. But I didn’t think so.

And me? It was all I could do not to roll my eyes in exasperation at this whole absurd exchange. I certainly didn’t want Dante or Brody to have had anything to do with the ending of Jon Doe’s life, but my suspicions remained that they out-and-out lied about not knowing him.

Or maybe it was simply a matter of semantics. Maybe they didn’t actually
know
him, but I believed they knew something
about
him. Especially since Brody had looked him up on the Internet.

But, okay, even if they were absolutely guilty, I didn’t want them arrested right then and there. I needed to conduct my own inquiry. Hopefully, it would exonerate them as fully as their own proclaimed innocence. If it didn’t? What then? I’d really come to like Brody a lot, especially as an
Animal Auditions
judge with a star’s appearance and a droll and delightful sense of humor.

And Dante? Well, I was an attorney, an officer of the court, and I might owe it to the world to turn over any evidence I found of his guilt. But I was also a woman in deep infatuation, one who lusted after this gorgeous, rich, and powerful pet-supply magnate. And—

“Kendra?”

My name spoken by that very same magnate kicked me out of my reverie. I’d been staring at some pacing coyotes as I’d stood there thinking and listening to the guys chatter near me. But now I turned back toward Dante.

“Those coyotes,” I said. “They seem so grumpy, don’t you think, the way they’re acting?”

“I think you’re projecting ‘grumpy,’ lady,” he said in a tone so sweet that I couldn’t completely focus on his insult. “Anyway, Frank is done with us, at least for now.”

I aimed a glance at the deputy, who still smiled broadly, as if basking in having had the honor of interrogating Dante and Brody as potential murder suspects.

“With me, too, I assume.” I attempted to keep the aforesaid grumpiness out of my voice, although I wasn’t too successful.

“Of course, Kendra,” Frank effused. “I’ll want your contact information, all of you, as a formality and in case any further questions come up during our investigation, but you’re free to go. I assume you’ll head back to L.A., but be sure to get in touch with me next time you’re around here.” Something quizzical and perhaps defensive must have shown on my face, since as he watched me, his expression grew apologetic. “I mean, just so I can say hi. Show you around. Answer any questions you may have—as long as they’re not confidential because of our inquiries. That kind of thing.”

“Of course,” Dante said smoothly. “Let’s definitely stay in touch, Frank. We want to do all we can to make sure that whoever did this to Jon is captured and punished.” He pulled his wallet from his jeans pocket and extracted a business card, which he handed to the sergeant.

As long as whoever did it isn’t you
, I thought. To Frank, I said, “Thanks for your discretion and understanding.” I, too, handed him a card after waffling for an instant whether it should be my card as a partner of the law firm of Yurick & Associates or as the managing member of Critter TLC, LLC. I decided on the first, not that my playing the lawyer card would necessarily remove me from the suspect list. It was easier to field calls directed to my official place of legal employment.

Dante took my hand. “Let’s head back to L.A.,” he said. “We’ll stop at my place first, to pick up our stuff. Brody will leave straight from here.”

“Okay,” I said, suddenly especially eager to be as far away from HotWildlife as possible. For the moment. Murder magnet that I’d become, I knew I’d stay involved until the case was resolved.

And no matter how star-struck Sergeant Hura might be, I wouldn’t be swayed by the fact that these two guys with whom I was leaving happened to be celebrities.

Which meant I had a phone call to make to stay in the good graces of one of my contacts who’d become a friend: tabloid reporter Corina Carey. We scratched each other’s backs, so to speak, when expedient. I’d sometimes found that having a murder I was looking into show up in the media helped me figure out whodunit. Corina had been interested, but not overwhelmingly so, about the missing mama wolf. But she would never forgive me for failing to tell her of yet another situation in which I knew a murder victim.

I also knew a host of potential suspects, which could include myself . . . as well as Dante. Reporters would undoubtedly drool about a story that involved something more than that hot entrepreneur’s power, wealth, and benevolence to beasts.

And though I had no control over Corina, I could bargain with her to make her story an exclusive, at least for an instant, if she kept it less biased, and less sensational than other media slime might make it.

I decided not to make the call in front of Dante. He’d undoubtedly be at least somewhat displeased. Sure, he had come to know Corina during the murder investigation of an
Animal Auditions
judge. But talk to her now? I didn’t think so.

So, when we reached his mountain getaway, I got away from him while he readied his stuff to go. I went into the backyard, just my cell phone and me, to make my call.

“Hi, Kendra,” Corina said. She’d captured my cell number long ago. “How are things?” Her tone was as inquisitive as always, saying silently,
Have you come across any more murders
?

I stood near the trunk of a stately, sharp-scented tree—perhaps a ponderosa pine—staring toward the back door of the pseudo log cabin. Didn’t see Dante or any of the part-time housekeeping staff. I could talk.