Howl Deadly (9 page)

But I was just accepting a platonic embrace from my closest bud, not intruding on his relationship with his girlfriend. As I backed away slightly, I said, loud enough for her to hear, “How’s Wanda?” That would be Wanda Villareal, a fellow pet-sitter and now Darryl’s significant other. “She’s been great about filling in for me when I’ve been out of town.” We chatted briefly about Wanda and her Cavalier, Basil. And then I let him know I had to leave. “Lots of pet-sitting clients to visit,” I told him. “See you and Lexie later.”

First thing, when I returned to my Ford Escape to escape to my next pup to care for, I used my hands-free phone system to make one of a couple of pending calls. “Mignon, it’s me,” I said to the receptionist at my law firm. “I’ll be in later, I promise, but I have some things to take care of first.”

“Animals always come first, don’t they, Kendra?” she said in a giggly, nonjudgmental voice. Like Borden Yurick, the senior partner of our firm that specialized in practicing law for senior citizens, she understood my priorities. “Want me to check your calendar and call you back if there’s anything pressing later today?”

“Yes, and please ask Borden, too.”

When I hung up, I took a deep breath and called Althea Alton for the second time in only a few days. I kind of regretted having had her check her unusual online sources for the missing wolf mama—since I was about to ask her for an even huger favor.

“Hi, Kendra!” she greeted me effusively. “Sorry, I haven’t found anything on the sudden appearance of a loose wolf in the area. I wanted to touch base with you, though, to let you know.”

“Thanks,” I said as I stopped for a traffic light and saw a cop in the car in the next lane staring at me. Better that it appear I was talking to myself than violating the California law against use of hand-held cell phones in automobiles. “But I have another favor to ask.”

“Oh?” I heard her backing-away tone. I was pressing my luck in pushing for more help, especially under the current circumstances.

“Check with Jeff, of course, but . . . well, I’m looking into who could have committed another murder.”

“Another one? Oh, Kendra, that’s so weird. Unless—did you go looking for this one?”

“Hardly.” The light changed, and I accelerated slowly, not wanting to give the cop a reason to harass me. He went on ahead, and I sighed in relief. “Anyway, I would love it if you could find out all you can about a man named Jon—that’s J-O-N—Doe, who worked at HotWildlife. I checked with the director, and she said he applied with excellent credentials. He’d worked at zoos and other animal sanctuaries. But I’d really, really appreciate a whole history of the guy.” Like anything that gave me insight into why Dante and Brody were so interested in him.

“You know what Jeff’s going to say, don’t you?” Althea’s young but grandmotherly voice was filled with warning.

“Yes, and you can tell him I’ll schedule a lunch with him soon. I’ll even come to your office.” Which was located in Westwood, not exactly convenient to my mostly San Fernando Valley pet-sitting, nor my Encino-area law office. Worse, I’d have to deal with the hunky guy, once my lover, as he tried to convince me, yet again, to give him another chance. But, hey, it’d be worth the hassle if Althea, using her amazing Internet skills—and hacking abilities—got me the info I sought.

“Okay, I’ll check with him and let you know,” she said. She added, in a kinder tone, “It’ll be great to see you again, Kendra, and to catch up with what’s going on in your life.”

“Besides my still being a murder magnet?” I asked, attempting to punctuate it with a laugh.

“Yes,” she said. “Besides that.”

 

 

 

IT WAS MIDMORNING by the time I’d cared for and played with my remaining pet-sitting charges. I jotted the last info into my pet-sitting journal. I felt both exhausted and exhilarated. I loved this part of my life!

But maybe I was schizophrenic, since I also loved my other major career: lawyering. I happily headed my Escape toward Encino and my law office.

Mignon was, as usual, at the large front desk to greet me. The law offices were located in a building that had once been a restaurant, so the reception area was essentially where hostesses once hung out to seat guests.

Mignon could have fit that role, too, with as much ease as she did that of receptionist for a small law firm. She was the perkiest person I’d ever met. Almost always cheerful. Incredibly cute, with her bobbing auburn curls and constantly waving fingers. “Hi, Kendra,” she chirped as I walked in the door. “You’re not nearly as late as I thought you’d be. That’s a good thing. Borden said he really needs to talk to you as soon as you get in, but didn’t want me to call and bother you.”

“It’s never a bother to talk to him,” I chided, but she lifted her hand into the air.

“I know that. But that’s what he said.”

“Got it. Please let him know I’m here, and if it’s convenient, I’ll come right over, soon as I drop my purse in my office.”

It must have been convenient for Borden to see me immediately, since he was waiting at my office door when I got there. I’d strode through what had once been the restaurant’s elongated dining room, hustling along the open corridor between doors to attorneys’ offices along the outer walls, and secretary and paralegal cubicles in the center. Hustle? Heck! I had given as many greetings as I got, so my dash to my office had been on the slow side.

“Hi, Kendra,” our senior partner said in his high-pitched voice, with one of his characteristically lop-sided smiles on his long face. His hair was silver, and he wore one of his usual bright aloha shirts, orange and gray today. “I hear you have yet another murder under your microscope.”

“Yes, I’m looking into it,” I said as I led him into my perpetually messy office. Well, maybe it was just lived-in—with paperwork piled here and there on my desk and credenza. Borden had, bless him, furnished it with an ergonomically correct chair, so it was absolutely comfortable, easily my second home. I had a window overlooking the parking lot and a high-tech computer at my side on the desk. Who could ask for more?

I sat in that pleasingly comfy desk chair, and Borden took a seat facing me. “So,” he said, looking slightly ill at ease, “do you by any chance have time to take over a senior law case for me? I know you’re busy with your pet-sitting, and that missing wolf, and now another murder, so I really hate to—”

I practically pole-vaulted over my desk toward him, and stooped to give him a huge hug. He smelled like sweetened tea. “Borden, of course I have time. I’ll
make
the time. You made me a partner here, even with the stigma still swimming around me from those bogus ethics violation accusations. You’ve been so understanding of all the extra stuff I get myself into. But you know I intend always to practice law, too, and I’ll drop everything”—well, I might have to rebalance instead, since dropping pet-sat doggies wasn’t exactly an option—“to take on anything you need me to.”

I moved back and aimed what I intended to be an utterly sincere smile at him. He grinned back, and I knew he’d intentionally teased me into making such a groveling statement. Maybe. “I figured,” he said softly.

“So what’s the case you want to toss my way?” I said, bracing myself for a bombshell.

“Do you remember Alice Corcorian?”

“Ellis Corcorian’s mother? Sure.” Ellis had been of-counsel at the law firm of Marden, Sergement & Yurick, the high-powered firm where I’d been employed before those awful ethics issues forced me to resign. Borden was that Yurick, and he’d left the firm at the same time, after traveling the world and deciding he’d had enough of huge firm nonsense and stress.

An “of-counsel” attorney was one who was generally too experienced to be a simple associate, yet not on partnership track at a firm. Ellis had specialized in entertainment law. He’d been single, so he’d brought his mama, Alice, who’d acted in films in the seventies and eighties, to a lot of the firm’s affairs like parties and retreats.

“Well, she’s been in our conference room all morning, waiting for you. She remembered you, too, and all you went through. She figured you’d understand, so she asked if you’d represent her.”

Sounded like I’d been set up . . . kinda. Borden had already decided I’d take this case. So had Alice Corcorian, apparently.

Only . . .

“What kind of legal problem does she have, Borden?”

“She says that her son is attempting to obtain a conservancy over her and all her assets. She wants us—you—to make sure he’s the one to go to hell.”

 

 

ALICE CORCORIAN LOOKED older than when I’d last seen her. Even so, she was one sensational middle-aged mama. She was probably my height. Her wavy hair skimmed her shoulders, a sleek, sensuous auburn that, at her age—maybe mid-sixties—might emanate from a darn good beautician’s bottle.

“Kendra, my dear, how good to see you,” she said as I entered the firm’s conference room that was the restaurant’s former bar. She rose from her seat at the elongated table in the room’s center—between the big wooden bar still along the inside wall and the booths beneath the windows—and glided in my direction. She was clad in a red wraparound dress and matching shoes with slight heels.

I could only hope I’d look as good at her age. Sure, a few wrinkles edged her eyes, and parentheses-like divots emphasized her mouth, but she was still a great-looking example of the human race.

“Great to see you, too, Ms. Corcorian.”

“Oh, I’m Alice, dear. You and I are friends, and I think—I hope—we’re going to get even closer.” Her voice was warm and husky, not a hint of middle age sneaking into it. “Did Borden tell you my dilemma?”

“He hinted at it, but why don’t you explain?” Her son sought conservatorship of a woman as together as this one? On what basis? She certainly wasn’t
that
old.

“Let me make a phone call first.” She headed back to where she’d been sitting at the table, and I noticed the magazine she must have been reading:
Modern Bride
.

Hmmm. That provided a hint.

She spoke low into the cell phone she’d pulled from her purse. I couldn’t quite hear what she said. She hung up quickly and motioned for me to sit at the opposite side of the table.

“I assume this won’t be any conflict of interest for you,” she began. “You know my son Ellis, of course, but you don’t work at his law firm any longer.”

I nodded. “I doubt that’ll be a problem, even though your matter apparently concerns Ellis.”

“It definitely does,” she said grimly as the conference room door opened.

Mignon stood there with a tall, good-looking guy about her age—early twenties. “Can Mr. Guildon come in?” she asked.

Mr. Guildon didn’t wait for my answer. He strode right to Alice, who’d stood again. In an instant, she was in his arms and the recipient of one hell of a sexy kiss.

And I’d no doubt about why Ellis Corcorian wanted conservatorship over his mom.

When they broke away, they still regarded each other like they were lovers who’d been separated for ages. I’d little doubt about the first part. But I suspected they hadn’t been apart for more than the part of the morning Alice spent at the law firm.

“Kendra, this is Roberto,” Alice finally said, sounding, unsurprisingly, a bit breathless. “Roberto, this is the wonderful attorney I told you about, Kendra Ballantyne. I’m sure she’ll be able to teach my son Ellis to mind his own business, and not mine.”

“How do you do, Roberto.” I shook the hand he held out to me. He’d gallantly come around beside the table, away from his apparent lady love—who was nearly old enough to be his grandma. “Please sit down, both of you, and tell me what’s going on.” As if I hadn’t already guessed.

Alice took the lead in the conversation. Sure enough, what I’d surmised was their reality. They’d told Ellis Corcorian that they intended to marry. He had gone ballistic, calling his mother all kinds of names, not the least offensive of which was “you senile old bag.” He’d tried to convince her that Roberto was simply after her money—a substantial fortune, since she had invested her money wisely after a shining silver screen career.

Roberto’s turn to talk. “I’m not dumb, Ms. Ballantyne,” he said.

“Kendra,” I corrected him, as Alice had done with me. I had a feeling we’d be working together for a while, assuming I agreed to take what appeared to be a difficult, emotional case.

“Kendra. Anyhow, I know how this looks. I’m a graduate of the USC School of Cinematic Arts. I do some acting, hope someday to get starring roles. But the thing is, I love films, especially some of the older ones. I think I fell in love with Alice long before I met her. And when she came to our school to talk about her films . . . well, I had to introduce myself. Now, I can’t imagine life without her.”

She rose and was back in his arms instantaneously. Apparently, the feeling was mutual.

After the latest kiss, and once they sat down, Alice said, “I’m not dumb, either, Kendra. You know that. But Ellis thinks I’m an aging, gullible fogy who’s been taken in by a young cad who just wants my money. He wants to protect me from myself.”

More likely, he wanted to protect his potential inheritance from the likes of this young star-struck stud.

But if Alice was sane and unsenile, then Ellis Corcorian should have no recourse even if she chose to convey every cent she owned to saving the cats of the world.

Or to supporting this youthful stud muffin into his twilight years.

“I see,” I said. “Well, you seem pretty much with it to me. Let’s chat a bit, and we’ll see if we need to take any preemptive legal action to prevent Ellis from doing anything rash.”

 

 

 

OUR CONFERENCE WENT on for another hour. I saw nothing in Alice’s demeanor to suggest she had any mental impairment, and sixties weren’t an especially advanced age.