The Fright of the Iguana (32 page)

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Authors: Linda O. Johnston

BOOK: The Fright of the Iguana
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Still nothing.
It got late. My planning had been for naught, at least that night. More likely, I had to be gone altogether for it to take effect. After all, all the other pet-nappings had occurred in empty homes.
I called the cops who’d been on call outside the house, staking out the place, thanked them for their help so far that evening, and requested that they stay on watch, just in case. I called Charley Sherman to thank him again and let him know that his trick animal Impressario remained intact and right in place.
“No one tried to snatch him?” Charley sounded disappointed over my cell phone. “I told the security staff to talk up the fact they had a night off. And Impressario’s aquarium was bolted down, so the thief would have had to have put his mitts inside the glass—and my untrainable iguana would have chewed off a finger or five.”
“I don’t imagine Fabrizio Fairfax would have liked the blood all over his guest house,” I said, smiling despite the picture that created in my imagination.
“We’d have cleaned it before he returned. He’s always happy to let people use the place while he’s on the road—preferably filming for some show, of course, but using it for guests or whatever is fine with him.”
“Trapping a pet-napper and possible killer?” This was territory we’d gone over before, or I wouldn’t have attempted to set things up here this evening. Even so, I remained both grateful and incredulous that I’d gotten a vicarious okay from the famous director to use his home for my attempted setup.
“Yep, but I guess it didn’t work out anyway.”
“Not yet,” I acknowledged. “And even though I’m going home, I’ve got Jeff Hubbard—he’s a P.I. and security expert—hanging around here to ensure that Impressario’s okay in my absence, and Mr. Fairfax’s home as well.” Yes, I’d eventually chatted more with Jeff, who’d chastised me but good but still went along.
“Good deal. But you’ll be back tomorrow?”
“That’s the plan.”
Next, still sitting in the quiet den, I called Jeff. “You’re all set to ensure there’s nothing bad happening here tonight?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He sounded curt and irritable. He hadn’t liked my setting myself up like this, even with all the official observers, my own pepper spray easily accessible and ready to spritz a snatcher in the eyes, and a snappish iguana as the pet-napping target.
“Okay. Good. Thanks. I’m going to Darryl’s to get Lexie, then heading home. Call me if anything happens tonight. If not, we’ll do this again tomorrow.”
“You’d better be damned careful, Kendra,” Jeff said.
The moment I hung up, I got another call. “I’ll be fine,” I said as I answered, forgetting to check caller ID. But I knew who it had to be—the same guy who’d just been giving me orders.
Which actually was sweet. Showed he cared.
“Glad to hear it,” said a familiar female voice. “What’s going on, Kendra?”
It was Corina Carey. Damn! With an opening like that, I knew her curiosity would be on overdrive.
“Nothing yet,” I answered evasively. “But keep your phone handy over the next few days. I might break a big story for you.”
“Really? You’re that close? Damn, you’re good, Kendra.”
Yeah, I thought as I picked up my bag and dumped my phone into it.
Or at least I’d believe so if this nutty plan of mine bore fruit.
I headed out of the house to where my Beamer was parked in the driveway, all the while carefully scanning the yard for motion. It was always possible that the pet-napper had slipped inside despite all the cops and Jeff surveilling the place.
But I saw nothing at all untoward.
I unlocked the car and opened the door, hefted my bag onto the floor, and slid beneath the steering wheel.
Which was when I heard something in the backseat, and the cold feel of metal was suddenly pressed against my chin.
Trying not to shriek or shudder, knowing I was a whole lot more vulnerable here than I’d have been if this had been pulled off while I was inside and in control, I glanced into the rearview mirror.
Sure enough, there was the face I felt I’d most likely see as a result of springing my trap.
Chapter Twenty-eight
“HELLO, ALLEN,” I said softly, turning ever so slightly, with that chilly gun barrel hard against my shivering chin. “Fancy meeting you here. Not interested in pet-napping another iguana?” I slowly and carefully set my fingers to rooting around in my big bag, which I’d placed on the floor beside me instead of in its usual place on the passenger seat.
Okay, so my trap hadn’t sprung exactly as I’d planned. But I still had a trick or two up my short T-shirt sleeve . . . or at least in my big, concealing bag.
Too bad it didn’t happen to be my pet-sitting client Py, the python. Nor was it Impressario, the iguana. But it would have to suffice.
Right now, Tracy Owens’s sleazy significant other simply laughed, a deep, vicious sound that set my teeth on edge and my heart thudding. How had I ever thought his looks ordinary? From what I could see from the edge of my eye into the backseat where he perched, he appeared as scary as some shadowy figure in a Stephen King story. His eyes were glazed and staring, his smile so crocodile-like that I nearly felt his jaws snap around my vulnerable flesh.
“I knew it was a trap,” he said as his nasty laughter ended. “You weren’t exactly subtle about it, Kendra.”
“No, I guess I wasn’t. So what now, Allen Smith?”
“Now, I think you’re going to follow that meddling Nya Barston to wherever pet-sitters end up after they’re dead.” That scary laughter again, echoing all over the insides of my Beamer.
Surely my comfy leather seats couldn’t absorb that awful sound. But even so, if I survived this, I’d want to have my poor car detailed with utter diligence, to scrub out every iota of Allen and his laughter that might remain behind.
Which
if
seemed like a big one just about then.
“I didn’t think you were so stupid, Kendra,” he continued. “I mean, you stuck yourself tonight right into the middle of a dangerous situation, knowing that whoever was stealing pets and killing pet-sitters could come after you. Yeah, I know the cops were around, but that didn’t stop me before, and you knew it. You could have been hurt, or even killed. Why did you do it?”
“To help my friend Tracy,” I said coldly. “Which should have been your responsibility, not mine. I thought she was supposed to be the love of your life.”
The gun jammed even harder against my throat. “That’s exactly what I was doing, bitch. I wanted her out of that stupid pet-sitting business. It took up too much of her time and energy. I make enough money for both of us. I wanted her to marry me, and I’d take care of her forever.”
Which had kinda been the direction my thoughts had been going as I’d assessed him as a possible suspect. Hurt feelings and more—like, a potentially abusive domestic relationship. That’s why I’d narrowed my suspicions down such that I’d all but assumed Allen was the thief . . . and Nya-slayer.
Now, I just needed to keep him talking, which didn’t appear to be difficult at all. Seemed like the guy wanted to spill his guts before spilling mine.
“I also wanted her out of that stupid Pet-Sitters Club of SoCal, even though she helped to form it,” he continued. “It took up too much of her time, so if its members all had pets stolen while they watched them, who the hell would hire them? No one, that’s who. The whole thing would fall apart, and—hey, what the hell are you doing?” he shouted in my ear. Without withdrawing the gun, he leaned his unbuff body over the seat and my own shaky and unprotected self, and grabbed my bag. “You still have pepper spray in there? Well, you’re not going to use it on me again.” He pulled the bag into the back with him. “You’re not so tough, even though I’ve followed all those cases of yours where you solve murders and get all that media attention. Even if you figured out Nya’s murder, you won’t be alive when the person I intend to be blamed for it is caught—and, believe me, it won’t be my Tracy. I don’t know why the cops could be so stupid, trying to pin it on her just because Nya and she had a little argument and Nya happened to be killed at one of her customer’s homes.”
“How did that happen?” I asked in as conversational a tone as I could muster. “Did Nya suspect that a pet-napping would occur there that night and figure she’d be there to stop the thief?”
“Yeah, the interfering bitch. She didn’t know it was me, of course. She thought I was just there trying to help Tracy with the damn dog in that house . . . at first. But she kept asking questions, like where Tracy was, and did I know the first thing about taking care of dogs, and she said she wasn’t sure I was even good enough for Tracy. I had one of Tracy’s bats with me to use on the dog if it gave me a hard time, so I used it on Nya instead. As soon as I raised it in the air, she knew the truth and screamed out that I was the pet-napper and that she’d tell Tracy . . . which she never had the chance to do.”
That smug, spine-chilling laughter burst through the Beamer again, and I gritted my teeth, which was a good thing, since it kept them from chattering, as scared as I was.
Were the cops still around? Outside the gates and still on duty, sure, but they might have relaxed and dozed off assuming all was okay after our last little recap.
How about Jeff? He was a much better bet. In fact, with luck, he was lurking around outside the Beamer, trying to figure out a way to stop Allen before he could slam a bullet into me.
“What about the pet-nappings?” I inquired conversationally. “What were they all about? And why did you only collect ransom on the Dorgans’ animals?”
“I wanted to discredit that whole damned club of yours,” Allen said with a growl. “Show how inept all its members were. Even cause it to disband. But you were too nosy, Kendra. I figured you’d back off asking all your damned questions once the pets you were caring for were back home. Do you know how hard it was to arrange for that garbage truck to rumble down the alley that night to hide the time when I grabbed the money?”
“I can guess,” I said. “A bit greedy, weren’t you?”
“I didn’t demand ransom for any of the other animals,” he responded as if insulted. “And it wasn’t like I needed that fifty thousand—although I have it put away as a nice nest egg for Tracy and me, after we get married.”
“Right,” I responded, attempting to sound fascinated. “So how did you pick the drop spot?”
“Good location, wasn’t it? My insurance company paid a claim on the burned-out building beside the alley. Worked out relatively well. The hard part was when I found I had to hand-carry that damned iguana into the Sepulveda Basin park in the middle of the night since the gates were locked at that hour.”
“I’ll bet,” I said. “I hope you’re interested in publicity, by the way. Hillary Dorgan said she’s going to do a screenplay on that whole pet-napping scenario.”
“No way!” Allen yelled. “No publicity. I already wanted to strangle her and that Corina Carey when they started blabbing on TV about the lost animals. I’ll stop the Dorgan bitch if she dares to publicize anything else.”
Oops. I certainly hadn’t intended to endanger Hillary. I needed to move Allen’s mind in a different direction. “But what about the other animals? How did you steal them—and why did they wind up in Bakersfield?”
His laugh sounded complacent once more, giving me goose bumps. “It’s surprising how much an insurance salesman gets to learn about people’s security systems when they’re robbed—helped me break into all sorts of places, including getting in here tonight without attracting the attention of any of the cops watching outside. And when Tracy traded off with other sitters, I made sure to copy down their clients’ security codes. No problem getting into the shed behind that pigsty Jerry Jefferton lives in to plant those bats. And even though I’d been renting a house way out in the desert, I figured someone would catch on so I decided to dump all the animals in one spot fairly far away. Bakersfield should have worked—if you hadn’t been so damned nosy. I tried to stop you in so many ways, but you just didn’t listen.”
Like attacking me with a baseball bat? Yeah, I’d figured that out already.
“Okay, I’ve another question,” I said, trying to keep him talking. “Why was there a discrepancy in what the notes left at the sites of the pet-nappings said? I mean, everyone at first was told not to tell anyone at all, but I was only instructed not to tell the cops.”
“And did you listen even to that, bitch? No.” The gun at my chin pressed harder, and I attempted not to move a hair, despite my body’s tendency to quake. “I never imagined the others would really pay attention and not tell anyone at all. I wanted all the club members to know and get scared, which was why I changed yours and the ones after that, so it was okay to tell other stupid pet-sitters, anyone but the cops. And now you’re going to pay for telling
them
. Here’s what we’ll do. I’d rather drive, but you need to be at the steering wheel in case someone’s still outside watching. So, I’ll duck down—still aiming at you, of course—and you’ll drive us to this address.” He rattled off something near mid-Wilshire, and I recognized it as the one where Tracy had taken me when she’d asked me to help her by taking on some of her clients.

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