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Authors: Linda O. Johnston

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I nodded. “Okay.”

“Will you be able to get everyone there at HotRescues on Sunday?” Brooke asked.

“I’m pretty sure of it,” I said, “as long as Dante backs me up.”

We enjoyed our dinners, then went back to HotRescues. From there, we all headed home.

But Zoey and I perked up awhile after we got to our place and the doorbell rang. I knew who it was.

Matt had gone home to get Rex. Now, they were going to stay the night.

I was getting tired of this. Not just trying to prove who killed Hans Marford, but also spending so much time at Solario Studios and other filming locations.

It wasn’t as if I hadn’t plenty to do at HotRescues, which was where I was at the moment. Temporarily.

At least today promised to be interesting, since Dante was also going to be at the studio again.

Yes, he’d returned my call early that morning just after Matt and Rex had dashed out of my place. I’d told Dante about that strange gesture the kid Jerry Amalon had made—again. “I’d like to get him to come to HotRescues tomorrow to see his reaction to being back there once more. Maybe he’ll repeat that move out of nervousness, or just for fun, to taunt us in case we hadn’t seen it the first time.”

“Maybe,” Dante had agreed. “Tell you what. I’ll meet you at the studio today and make sure you get your wish. All the dog handlers from the production will come to HotRescues tomorrow so you can observe Jerry’s reaction.”

“Really?” I exclaimed so enthusiastically that Zoey, who’d been lying at my feet at my office desk, sat up and woofed. I laughed.

I stopped laughing, though, when Dante laid out the conditions under which he would decree that everyone—including Jerry—show up at HotRescues. One: I had to promise to stay around other people the entire time the handlers were present—staff, volunteers, whoever. Two, I had to call EverySecurity before anyone showed up and
have them make certain that all the security cameras were working and that they would watch those cameras in real time. And, three, Brooke’s Antonio had to be present, too, or have someone else there from the LAPD undercover and immediately available.

“You’re always provoking people,” Dante finished. “That’s a good thing if those people are abusing animals, of course, and I applaud it. I can’t fault you for solving murders, either, if that’s your hobby.”

I felt stung. It was definitely not my hobby. “Like your Kendra’s, you mean?”

He laughed. “Don’t let her hear you say that.”

“I don’t like it any more than she does.”

“Okay. Forget it. But I’ll see you later at the studio.”

Sure enough, just after I showed my ID and stepped through the gate I spotted Dante standing in the street in front of the nearest building, talking to Mick Paramus and Morton Lesque.

Not wanting to interrupt anything despite my raging curiosity about their conversation, I dodged a few slow cars and headed down the busy studio avenue to the building where the animals were kenneled. No one was around. They had to already be on the set.

I went there next, in time to watch another scene being rehearsed under the direction of R. G.—a fairly bland scene where the dogs were all in a large room together, communicating.

I knew that when this scene was shown in the final movie the dogs would be conversing by telepathy in English, talking over whether they should stay in this place or run away. The Sheba dog would already have bonded with the Millie
character, and all the dogs now had a roof over their heads and enough food to eat—plus they had shelter volunteers giving them a lot of attention. In the script, they wondered why things had suddenly gotten so good for them. They didn’t trust it.

None of them but Sheba, who told the others to give this new situation more of a chance.

I could hardly wait to see the final product.

Meanwhile, I watched the rehearsal scene, with Cowan giving hand signals to the dogs. He’d brought a couple of assistants whom I’d seen before. The choreography of the scene was a little tricky considering that all the dogs had to act right on cue, but, surprisingly, it started to come together. The animal handlers, including Jerry Amalon, were at the far side of the set. So were Dr. Cyd and Grant.

I had a sense of isolation, as if I was quarantined from the other animal people. Or being avoided by them. I shrugged it off. Loneliness isn’t my style. Besides, I’d come in late. That was all.

I joined the others as soon as the scene had played out. Everyone was friendly and acted as if they were glad to see me. I smiled, chatted—and watched Jerry as he hurried to check on the dogs along with Winna, Elena, and the other handlers.

He wasn’t avoiding me more than any of the others.

Dante and those he’d been conversing with eventually came in, too, and Dante made his pronouncement. Gathering up the same animal people, he took them, and me, off to one side. “You know, as much as I’ve loved seeing how you all treat the dogs here, and how your shelter set looks, I want to make sure you’re aware of how real shelter dogs
are treated. I’ve talked it over with Director Paramus.” And the head of the studio, although he didn’t say that. He didn’t have to. He had walked in with both of them. “I’ve also talked it over with Lauren.” He looked at me, and I nodded.

I saw Grant’s double take. Did the American Humane rep think he should have been consulted, too? What did he anticipate Dante would be saying?

“You’re all invited to tour HotRescues tomorrow. You’ll be shown the best of the best.” He looked at Winna, who stood near me. “I definitely want all the handlers to attend.” When Dante said he definitely wanted something, everyone listened. I wasn’t surprised when Winna nodded, then turned to her assistants as if to make certain they got the message.

“Should be fun,” Jerry said. Was he just trying to cover himself?

One of the handlers said she already had plans for the next day, which was Sunday. The others all seemed eager to go.

I could hardly wait until tomorrow.

Chapter 27

Tomorrow did arrive, as always, right on time. I got to HotRescues early—not unusual when I didn’t have something else interrupting me.

Dante had requested that the dog handlers appear there around ten
A.M.
, which was fine with me. That was after the shelter opened for potential adopters to come and meet our residents. Not that we often had a crowd lined up waiting to get in, but this timing would let us prepare for our expected visitors.

At the moment, I sat at the table beneath the window in our welcome area. Nina sat across from me. “Do you really think this is a good idea?” she asked. Her frown drew additional lines on her forehead and at the sides of her eyes. She was younger than me, but always used to look frazzled because of what her abusive marriage had done to her.
Now, she didn’t look frazzled very often, but the wrinkles hadn’t completely gone away.

“Don’t know,” I admitted. “But if that kid Jerry was our intruder, he’ll have a hard time pretending he’s never been here before.”

“Maybe, but if it was him I’m sure he’s already thought of a way to disclaim or explain it. He’s certainly had time to consider what to do.”

“Thanks for your perspective,” I said, meaning it. “He could be an actor like everyone involved with the movie. If so, he’s a good one. He appears too nice to be a menace who threatened to poison our dogs. And whoever it was probably had no motive to be here if he wasn’t involved in Hans’s death—unless it had something to do with Hope and Councilman Randell instead. So…”

“So, we’ll just have to see,” Nina finished, smiling. “You’re in the right profession, Lauren.”

I frowned at her, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“You’re always so dogged about anything you get involved with.”

I grinned. “Punning becomes you.” Standing, I looked at my watch. Yes, I still wore one of those old-fashioned gadgets on my wrist, even though my young adult kids considered me woefully ancient in my worldview—and my failure to use my smartphone for every waking need.

It was nine fifteen. The
Sheba’s Story
folks would start arriving soon, but I was already itching to get them here to start my observation.

“Come on, Zoey.” She’d risen to her feet in anticipation as soon as I got up, and looked at me expectantly. “It’s time to go visit everyone again.”

“The dogs and kitties could hardly have forgotten your last visit,” Nina said, “since you just got back here ten minutes ago.”

True, but I figured that checking out everything again would take just enough time.

I hadn’t counted on receiving a call, though. That smartphone I’d ignored when I checked the time rang in my pocket. I pulled it out.

“Hi, Carlie,” I said. Zoey and I still walked down the hall toward the door to the shelter area. “How are you today?” I was being either mean or overprotective. Or both. But I hadn’t told Carlie what I was up to today, or why.

“I’m okay,” she said. “I’m working on editing a
Pet Fitness
show—one that has nothing to do with the film industry. It’s about how pets do after surviving a life-threatening disease. I’ve interviewed families of some of our clinic’s patients for their perspective, and I wondered whether we could talk to Miracle and you on camera about how she got over parvo a while ago.”

“Absolutely,” I said. “She’s been here long enough.” The sweet Basset-Lab had been here for quite a few months. “Maybe the exposure will help her find a new home. When would you like to do it?”

“Sometime this morning?”

“Let’s make it late this afternoon.” I hoped she wouldn’t ask why this morning wouldn’t work. I wasn’t really sure of my availability this afternoon either, but I could get someone else to show off Miracle. I didn’t want Carlie here this morning, especially with a camera crew, while I laid my potential trap for the HotRescues intruder.

“Okay.” We talked a little more about timing. Carlie
said, “I’d imagine that if you were working on any more ideas about catching whoever killed Hans, you’d let me know.” It wasn’t a question. We were good enough friends that she certainly made that assumption.

Even though at the moment it wasn’t true.

“You know I’d keep you in the loop if there was anything important going on,” I responded, sidestepping a direct answer.

But she did know me well. “Then there’s something that’s not important going on?”

I didn’t want to lie to her, even if I didn’t want to tell her the whole truth. “Honestly? I’m spending more time trying to catch the person who broke into HotRescues the other night. If that person turns out to be Hans’s killer, I hope to figure that out, too. Either way, soon as that’s resolved I’ll concentrate more on your situation, Carlie. I promise.”

By then, Zoey and I were outside. The dogs in the first kennels we passed had had volunteers inside with them, but the next group were alone and started barking—a behavior I normally discouraged, but it gave me a good excuse to end my conversation with Carlie. We could no longer hear each other as well.

I then asked all the volunteers to join me outside the kennels, in front of the storage building at the rear. Our handyman, Pete, too. I couldn’t help smiling at Hope as we walked by. The poodle-cocker mix looked at me quizzically but stayed silent.

I checked my watch again. Nine thirty, closer to the time the film personnel would arrive. I looked at the group of volunteers, who included Bev and Mamie, some high school kids doing community service for credit, young
ladies Sally and Ricki, and others whom I also wouldn’t want to endanger. Including Pete and the rest of our staff.

Heck, I didn’t want to endanger anyone, including our resident pets. But what was about to happen here was just for observation. No reason for anyone to get hurt.

I told this group we were about to have visitors and asked the volunteers to act as tour guides, showing off our dogs and cats to these people. They wouldn’t necessarily be interested in adopting but were involved in a film production that could really help draw attention to shelter animals.

Everyone seemed excited. I certainly was.

That was when I heard a page from Nina. “Lauren, to the front, please.”

Let the games begin.

The first arrivals were, fortunately, those we’d intended to bring in and hide—Antonio and Brooke. I caught up with them just outside the door to the main building near the first group of kennels.

“I just talked to the operative on duty from EverySecurity,” Brooke told me quietly. “They’ve checked out the cameras remotely, and all seem to be working fine.”

The three of us turned to look toward the cameras mounted on poles outside the kennel runs. The one on the right just to this side of the center building had caught the view of Jerry wandering through HotRescues a few nights ago. We knew that one worked well, but it hadn’t given us enough information to get our intruder arrested.

Not yet, at least.

We briefly discussed what I’d told the volunteers to do.
“I sure hope we get something useful after all this,” I said fervently.

“Amen,” Antonio agreed.

“I didn’t get a chance to talk to Pete, though, about what we expect of him.”

BOOK: Oodles of Poodles
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