Read Meow is for Murder Online
Authors: Linda O. Johnston
Meow is for Murder (9 page)
“No, he didn’t. Let’s sit down, and you can fill me in.”
“It’s Sugar,” she wailed. She settled back in her chair while removing the fluffy pup from under her arm and sticking her back on her ample lap.
“I’ll leave you ladies to your legal discussion,” Darryl said from the doorway and hastily retreated. Okay, he was a guy and so far this promised to be a girl thing, a session simmering with emotion. Only, I wished he’d stayed, at least till I understood the issues. I might be the one seeking emotional support. And a graceful out, if I didn’t decide to take the case.
Sugar sat on Mae’s legs, staring morosely. I admit to having an overactive imagination, especially when it comes to assuming I understand what an animal is attempting to convey, but I swear that Sugar was glumly attempting to tell her side of the story. Whatever it was.
I soon learned it from Mae, who had no compunction about revealing the terrible truth: “Sugar has been spayed,” she moaned, as if that was the most horrifying sentence in the English language. Or in Pomeranian.
Mae stared with teary eyes as if anticipating my equally appalled reaction. But so far, I’d heard nothing especially revolting. In fact, pet neutering was usually considered to be necessary, both for ultimate health reasons and because of the excess of unwanted pups in shelters everywhere.
Not that I’d neutered Lexie yet. I still harbored hopes of her having baby Cavaliers someday. But I’d need to plan that day soon, if at all.
Unsure how to react, I simply reflected the woman’s words back to her. “So Sugar has been neutered. I see.”
“No, you don’t. She’s had three litters so far, and several of her puppies were promising show dogs. I’d hoped for more.”
“So you had her spayed . . . why?”
“I didn’t,” Mae barked. “That’s the whole point. That horrible vet operated on her without even asking me. Look, my daughter is watching Sugar’s latest litter now. They’re at my house—three of the cutest little Pomeranian puppies imaginable. I wanted to hurry home to them, but I stayed a little later because Darryl said you’d pick up your dog around now, and I wanted to meet you. Long story short: I had to take Sugar to the vet this time to have her puppies since they were coming out slowly and I was worried about her. I left her overnight, and when I returned the next morning, there she was, nursing her pups—but she’d also been spayed!” Mae’s eyes watered up all over again.
“If her birthing was especially difficult, maybe she needed the surgery for health reasons,” I suggested reasonably.
“Did he talk to you already?” she spat. “That damned vet? That’s what he said, but I know better. He did it out of spite. I’ll tell you more about it later. But that’s why I need a lawyer. That horrible doctor sawed my poor Sugar open and put her through all that trauma for no reason, and I want to sue the bastard.”
“SORRY ABOUT THAT, Kendra,” Darryl said a short while later. He had reclaimed his office, and I sat in a chair across from him, observing him over the mounds of materials cluttering his desk. I’d left Lexie outside the door before so as not to disturb Sugar and her overemotional owner, and now my little Cavalier curled contentedly on my lap, resting after her active day at Darryl’s resort.
“I’m still unsure why Mae’s so upset,” I said.
“She obviously loves Pomeranian puppies, and now her little Sugar won’t be able to have any more.”
“Yeah, I got that. But since the vet said it was for health reasons—”
“She insists there’s more to it. Look—” My lanky dog-loving friend leaned across his overcrowded desk and regarded me over his wire-rimmed glasses. “She’s a relatively recent customer and has brought some of her other Poms in—older ones, not puppies. She was so excited about this impending litter, and then when things went wrong afterward, she started crying on my shoulder—figuratively, thank heavens. But she was really upset and asked if I knew any lawyers who understood dog lovers. Who would I recommend besides you?”
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll look into it more, though I’ll reserve judgment about whether I’ll take the case. If there was a nefarious reason, and not just the poor mama-dog’s health involved, as Mae implied, she might have a valid legal claim.”
“And if it involves someone making a pooch suffer, I know you’ll take it on. You’re the world’s greatest champion of pet problems, you know. The go-to attorney for animal dispute resolution.”
“Flattery won’t earn you forgiveness if this is a total fiasco of a case, Darryl, my friend. Right now, I don’t have time to waste on frivolity and debacles.”
“Enough stuff of your own going on? I figured. Pet-sitting without being sure of your assistant’s assistance. A full plate of legal cases from your boss, Borden. And . . . any idea yet who slew Amanda Hubbard’s stalker?”
Of course, the murder had already made the news. But I’d divulged it to Darryl first, while driving here earlier.
He, of all people, was well aware of my murder-magnet status. And I’d wanted him to learn of this latest one from me, not some terrible tabloid news-type.
“Not yet. And despite what I’ve said to my buddy Ned Noralles, I can’t completely rule her out yet.”
Darryl smiled a toothy grin that lit up his whole lean face. “Well, whoever dunnit, I know that my buddy Kendra Ballantyne will figure it out.”
“THAT’S NOT EXACTLY a reputation I want to have,” I told Lexie in the Beamer heading back toward home. “On the other hand—” I considered the deep satisfaction I felt when I ferreted out a murderer ahead of Detective Ned Noralles, who’d been so set on seeing me prosecuted for a couple of killings of which I’d been innocent. And—
My phone started singing “It’s My Life,” and I grinned. It sure was my life, and these days it was a pretty good one—with some obvious love-life and murder-magnet exceptions.
I immediately regretted having tempted fate by such a positive cogitation when the person who called—with a caller ID I didn’t recognize—identified herself. “Hello, Kendra. I’m so glad I caught you. This is Corina Carey.”
Oh, shit. She wasn’t someone I’d ever met—nor had I ever wanted to. But I knew her only too well.
She was a news reporter on a local network affiliate TV station who seemed to hog air time by taking on the world’s most notorious stories. Plus, she often wrote articles for local papers that were picked up by national news services.
I chose to stay silent. Hanging up might only result in another call. Or multiple messages if I chose not to answer.
And maybe on-air insinuations I wouldn’t even be able to sue about, since they’d doubtless fall short of the legal definition of defamation.
But I did pull the car to the nearest curb. If my wrath rose as it was apt to, I didn’t want to add a car accident to elevated blood pressure.
“Kendra? We must have a bad connection. Kendra Ballantyne? Can you hear me now?”
Unfortunately, I could. “Hello, Ms. Carey,” I finally responded frostily.
“Oh, good. I’m a reporter, largely for the
National NewsShakers Show
.” As if I didn’t know. “I’ve started a story on police investigations in L.A. and your name came up regarding a homicide that just occurred today. You’ve been mentioned in broadcasts before, plus I looked you up on the Net and . . . well, this isn’t the first murder investigation where you’ve been involved. I gather you’re a lawyer but not in law enforcement. I’d love to come and interview you. Can we set up a time and place?”
National NewsShakers Show
.” As if I didn’t know. “I’ve started a story on police investigations in L.A. and your name came up regarding a homicide that just occurred today. You’ve been mentioned in broadcasts before, plus I looked you up on the Net and . . . well, this isn’t the first murder investigation where you’ve been involved. I gather you’re a lawyer but not in law enforcement. I’d love to come and interview you. Can we set up a time and place?”
Hoping my voice didn’t shudder as much as my body, I searched my mind for an immediate reason to be unavailable for the next fifty years. Well, hell. I was a litigator. And a former murder suspect myself. I was used to unpleasant surprises, and knew how to handle every situation.
Almost.
My experience with the raft of reporters who’d covered my circumstances before had been anything but pleasant. Same went for those who’d sniffed around and spouted stories when I’d looked into murders to help friends.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Carey, but I’m really not interested.” As if this pushy reporter—a redundancy in expression, of course—was prone to take no for an answer.
“I understand,” she said much too smoothly. I stared at Lexie, who sat shotgun and regarded me with sympathetic yet curious brown eyes. “But if I don’t get to talk to you, I’ll only have your story from other people, who’ll give me their perspectives, which may not be yours.”
“If the story you’re talking about concerns the apparent murder that occurred earlier today in Sherman Oaks, then I really don’t have a perspective. Goodbye, Ms. Carey.”
“Goodbye for now, Kendra,” she responded, and I heard a smile every bit as snide as one of Amanda’s in her voice. “I’ll talk to you soon. Count on it.”
MY CELL PHONE didn’t ring again until we’d reached our garage-sweet-home and I’d settled down after organizing what apparel to take along for the next day and taking time to veg out in our compact living room.
I had laid my cell on the coffee table near my comfy beige sectional sofa and it both sang and vibrated on the glass surface, startling Lexie and me.
I peered at it suspiciously, having hated to hear from the last caller. This time, though, I nearly grinned in pleasure.
Jeff.
“Hi,” I said perkily after flipping the phone open. I eyed the table where I’d balanced my dinner, knowing that Lexie’s nose would nudge it, followed by her eager tongue, if I didn’t watch it. “Did you see that you missed my call before?” He could have called back earlier. “There’s some stuff I wanted to tell you about, but right now Lexie and I are heading to your place to keep Odin company tonight. How are things?” Like, are you surviving Chicago alone now, without having Amanda there to comfort?
“What the hell is going on, Kendra?” he demanded, startling me. “How did that jerk Leon wind up dead in Amanda’s house? And with all your experience dealing with such things—not to mention the fact you’re a goddamned lawyer—why the devil aren’t you helping her?”
Chapter Seven
I COULDN’T QUITE respond for a few appalled instants. Then my words dripped so frostily from my lips that I might have been sipping a Frappuccino. “I’m delighted to speak with you, too. I really don’t have any specific information to impart to you about the recently departed Leon and your dear Amanda. I merely attempted to call you earlier to let you know what had occurred. And even though Amanda isn’t exactly my favorite person, if it appears that she didn’t commit murder, then I’ll commiserate with her—figuratively. I’m not exactly eager to subject myself to her difficult presence again. You’re the investigator, Jeff. Utilize your license and come back to L.A. to help your beloved ex, if that’s what you want.”
This time, the pause wasn’t from my perspective. Back stiff despite the comfortableness of my soft sofa cushions, I waited for Jeff to jump in and say he’d take control. Or better yet, to apologize.
And waited.
And was finally rewarded with something substantially less than an admission of contrition. But at least it wasn’t accusatory this time, either.
“You’re right, Kendra,” he said slowly. “That wasn’t fair. After all the good work you did to help me clear myself of murder, I guess I started taking too much for granted.”
I’ll say
. But I kept that thought to myself.
. But I kept that thought to myself.
He continued, “You know how I feel about Amanda now, and—”
“No, Jeff, actually I don’t,” I interrupted. “So what if you made a huge pronouncement telling her to use another P.I., presumably choosing me over her? Talk, as they say, is cheap—and my pet-sitting and legal services aren’t. I’ve only acted as an intern P.I. when it was the only way I could get information to assist in cases
I
chose. Amanda’s isn’t one of them.”
I
chose. Amanda’s isn’t one of them.”
“I understand.” His soft voice smacked of remorse at last. “And I will be home soon. I only hope you’ll understand if I try to help Amanda through this. It doesn’t mean there’s still anything between us—”
“Except history. I get it.” But I didn’t believe it.
As we hung up a minute later, after goodbyes that were more uncomfortable than amatory, I couldn’t help recalling all over again what a loser I was in the long-term lover selection process.
WELL, ODIN WASN’T to blame for his master’s treachery in dealing with females. That was why I gathered my clothing and Lexie within the next five minutes and hustled us out the door and down the steps from our apartment.
Just in time to see Rachel pull her small, recently acquired blue sedan through the security gates and into the driveway. The new, used car had been her dad’s gift to allow her to assist me in pet-sitting. She opened the garage door remotely and drove inside, and was out of the car almost immediately.
“I did it, Kendra!” she shouted with exuberance that left no doubt what she was talking about. She’d landed a speaking role in a film—major or minor, it didn’t matter. In her mind, at least, she was on her way to a substantial starring career.
“I’m so happy for you,” I gushed, almost meaning it, as she stopped near enough to bend and stroke Lexie, then rose with a huge grin. She squeezed me in a healthy hug, bumping her huge shoulder bag against my side.
Other books
The Thorn by Beverly Lewis
In a Dark, Dark Wood by Ruth Ware
The Last Olympian by Rick Riordan
Love Me by Gemma Weekes
Uncrashable Dakota by Marino, Andy
Golden Ghost by Terri Farley
La vendedora de huevos by Linda D. Cirino
These Honored Dead by Jonathan F. Putnam
The Trap by John Smelcer
Demons are Forever: Confessions of a Demon-Hunting Soccer Mom by Julie Kenner
