Hounds Abound Read online

  “Lauren Vancouver is a likable, efficient amateur sleuth, passionate about her work and smart about how she goes about her investigation.”

  —Mysterious Reviews

  Praise for

  Beaglemania

  The first Pet Rescue Mystery

  “Gutsy Lauren Vancouver easily wins over the hearts of animals in need—as well as readers … [Vancouver is] an ardent advocate for homeless pets.”

  —Rebecca M. Hale, New York Times bestselling author of How to Moon a Cat and Adrift in St. John

  “Animal lovers will delight in a new series filled with rescued dogs and cats needing loving homes. Lauren Vancouver is a determined heroine who will solve the intriguing mystery at her private shelter.”

  —Leann Sweeney, author of the Cats in Trouble Mysteries

  Praise for Linda O. Johnston’s

  Kendra Ballantyne, Pet-Sitter Mysteries

  “Humorous, cleverly constructed.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “A brilliantly entertaining new puppy caper, a doggie-filled who-done-it … Johnston’s novel is a real pedigree!”

  —Dorothy Cannell

  “A fabulous series.”

  —The Best Reviews

  “Animal lovers will adore this series for the mystery as well as the animals.”

  —CA Reviews

  “An incredible writer who creates believable, intelligent characters … [A] fun-filled, suspenseful story line that contains intrigue, mystery, murder, lots and lots of animals, and humor.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Fast and fun.”

  —New Mystery Reader Magazine

  “The author has done a great job of making the reader care about the animals. Plus their personalities really shine through.”

  —Mystery Lovers Corner

  “Johnston’s ability to blend pet love, mystery, and romance into one well-wrapped package makes this a summer treat for mystery and pet lovers alike.”

  —Front Street Reviews

  “Exciting … Johnston is a creative storyteller who not only writes a fascinating mystery but also creates a deep character study.”

  —Books ‘n’ Bytes

  Berkley Prime Crime titles by Linda O. Johnston

  Kendra Ballantyne, Pet-Sitter Mysteries

  SIT, STAY, SLAY

  NOTHING TO FEAR BUT FERRETS

  FINE-FEATHERED DEATH

  MEOW IS FOR MURDER

  THE FRIGHT OF THE IGUANA

  DOUBLE DOG DARE

  NEVER SAY STY

  HOWL DEADLY

  FELINE FATALE

  Pet Rescue Mysteries

  BEAGLEMANIA

  THE MORE THE TERRIER

  HOUNDS ABOUND

  Hounds

  Abound

  LINDA O. JOHNSTON

  BERKLEY PRIME CRIME, NEW YORK

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) • Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England • Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.) • Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.) • Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India • Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.) • Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  HOUNDS ABOUND

  A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / April 2012

  Copyright © 2012 by Linda O. Johnston.

  Cover illustration by Jennifer Taylor/Paperdog Studio.

  Cover design by Rita Frangie.

  Interior text design by Laura K. Corless.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  ISBN: 978-1-101-56145-4

  BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME

  Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  ALWAYS LEARNING

  PEARSON

  This book is dedicated to all the pets out there who need good and loving homes, particularly those who are older or who have special needs.

  I also want to thank, and dedicate this book to, the many, many people who care about homeless animals. I have been delighted and amazed to see how many selfless animal lovers there are, and I’m proud I’ve gotten to meet some of them both in person and online via blogs and Facebook. Kudos and hugs to you all.

  As always, I thank and dedicate this book to my husband, Fred, who encourages me no matter what my endeavors.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 1

  It’s not always easy to be a pet rescuer.

  I find it particularly hard when I go to a high-kill shelter to save animals in immediate danger because of lack of space. I have to pick and choose those I think are most adoptable. That almost always includes young dogs and cats in good health.

  It too often excludes seniors, and those with infirmities, no matter how adorable or endangered they are. Or how sad it makes me to leave them behind.

  That was one reason I was so excited about where I was headed that September day.

  The other was that I was spending a whi
le in the company of my dearest friend, Dr. Carlie Stellan, an excellent veterinarian who travels a lot thanks to the TV show she hosts on the Longevity Vision Channel, Pet Fitness. That makes me value our time together even more.

  I’m Lauren Vancouver, director of HotRescues, a wonderful no-kill pet shelter in LA’s San Fernando Valley. I love animals and would do anything I can to save as many as possible.

  As a result, I was delighted about our upcoming visit.

  Carlie and I had just arrived at our destination and gotten out of my car. “This must be the place,” she quipped as we walked up the wide paved path toward the two-story boxy building in front of us. It resembled a huge, remodeled stable. Over the door hung a large sign that read SAVE THEM ALL SANCTUARY and was decorated with cartoonish dogs and cats.

  Yes, our destination was the new animal shelter that was already nicknamed “Save’Em.” We had come to Shadow Hills, in the northeast part of Los Angeles, to visit—and to make our own evaluation about whether Save’Em, which had only opened a few weeks ago, was as outstanding a facility as this kind of shelter needs to be.

  As Carlie reached for the elongated handle on the glass door, it opened. “Hi!” said the smiling girl who stood inside holding the door so that we could enter. The thin teenager wore a red shirt that proclaimed she was a volunteer. “I’m Peggy. Bella’s in the office. Come in.” That would be Bella Frankovick, who had just opened this very special pet shelter.

  Peggy led us inside. A dog came up to us immediately, though slowly—a waddling dachshund whose muzzle was gray despite the darkness of the rest of his coat. “Hi, sweetheart,” I said, kneeling to pet him. The little hound waggled all over, obviously happy with the attention.

  “That’s Ignatz,” Peggy said. “He was our first rescue, so he’s kinda like our mascot.”

  With a final hug and a pat on Ignatz’s head, I stood again. I was interested to see that the floor was of irregular tile—probably easy to clean, but also helpful in keeping an unsteady dog like Ignatz from slipping. The entryway was small and, except for the archway through which Ignatz headed, surrounded by doors.

  Peggy led us to the closest door on the left—and knocked before turning the knob and opening it.

  The room looked more like a parlor than an office, with comfy chairs in a burgundy and deep forest green plaid scattered all around. There was a desk, and that’s where the woman who now approached had been seated, but it was small, positioned unobtrusively in a corner.

  An attractive room, yes. Appropriate for a very special pet shelter? Well, maybe, if it helped to keep Bella in the right frame of mind to take the best care of all her charges.

  Now that I could see her close up, Bella appeared to be near my age and Carlie’s—mid-forties, which indicated she was sufficiently mature to take on the high-stress responsibilities that were now hers. That was a good thing. She was also as attractive as Carlie. My good friend is slim enough to look right at home on TV, with blond hair that skims her shoulders and well-defined facial features.

  I admire her but am glad I don’t have to go out of my way to impress people with my looks—which fortunately aren’t too bad anyway. I’m fairly well preserved for a forty-something woman, with a pleasant face and black hair cut into a short cap so I don’t have to pay much attention to it.

  Bella Frankovick was even more model-like than Carlie, with long brown hair, lovely blue eyes emphasized by perfect makeup and curved brows, and full lips that didn’t appear to have the ugly plump that suggested collagen enhancement. Which was interesting, if true, since her ex-husband was a cosmetic surgeon.

  I had done my research before coming here. Not that I had to do much digging. For anyone who watches just regular TV news, and not even those paparazzi-driven celebrity reality shows, it would have been hard to avoid seeing something about their difficult divorce.

  “Thank you for coming,” Bella said in a delightful British accent, her large smile revealing—of course—perfect teeth. She wore a denim work shirt that said SAVE THEM ALL SANCTUARY on the chest, over slimming blue jeans. She shook first my hand, then Carlie’s, as we introduced ourselves. “I’d love to chat with you, but I’ll bet you’d like a tour first.” Her quizzical expression raised her perfect brows.

  “Absolutely,” I said and Carlie agreed.

  As we exited the office, I let Carlie take the lead, walking beside Bella and asking questions. They’d no doubt work out a symbiotic relationship of sorts. Carlie could provide not only veterinary care but promotion of this facility, too, which could bring in both substantial donations and needy residents. Bella could provide a wonderful topic for one or more of Carlie’s upcoming shows.

  I had a purpose for being here that could also help Bella. I had a lot of contacts within the pet rescue community. If I liked this new facility, I’d get the word out. Between my acquaintances and me, we could help Bella keep Save’Em filled. Maybe even send potential adopters her way, but that could be difficult. The kinds of pets she was taking in were largely unadoptable—or at least less likely to be chosen over puppies and kittens and fully healthy adult animals.

  “Please come this way.” Bella led us into the entry area and toward the open archway through which Ignatz had disappeared.

  Peggy emerged from another door. “Want me to staff the entry?” she asked Bella.

  “Oh, yes, please, dear,” Bella responded, her smile appearing grateful. Interesting, that despite her elite background and power here at Save’Em, she seemed like a genuinely nice person. At least so far.

  As we went through the arch, we emerged into a huge, two-tiered room with an upper balcony perched above the lower floor. Each level appeared to be lined with kennels much larger than those we had at HotRescues—large enough to accommodate the staff members inside who were attending to one or more dogs.

  “The people who help me here are wonderful,” Bella said. “Though we’re new, I’ve enlisted both staff and volunteers. They all go through a tremendous vetting process to ensure that they not only love animals but will do everything required to take care of them.”

  We stopped at the first enclosure. Inside were two senior women. They sat on plastic stools on the tile working with three dogs that seemed equally elderly for their species. One dog appeared mostly Basset hound, another was a small golden Lab. The third had ancestry I couldn’t guess but he had long and floppy ears and a relatively short muzzle.

  The women teased their charges with rawhide bones and gave commands to sit, lie down, and more. The dogs obliged, acting quite lively considering how aged they looked.

  “Are they as senior as they appear to be?” I asked Bella.

  I didn’t think I’d spoken very loudly, but even so, “Yes, for all of us,” cried the nearest of the women inside the enclosure. The other one laughed as their canine charges continued to play at their feet.

  “Then I applaud all of you,” I said, and both Carlie and I clapped. The woman who’d spoken wore a black shirt that read SAVE’EM STAFF, and the other wore a red volunteer shirt that matched the one Peggy had on. The staff member stood, bowed, and used a treat to get one of the aging dogs to dance on his hind legs with surprising ease.

  “As I said, I have a good group of people who come here to help,” Bella said. “They are appreciative of the dogs who show them that getting older, for one’s species, does not mean one should give up and feel sorry for oneself.”

  “And they show the dogs something similar,” Carlie pointed out as we walked away from the enclosure. “I’ve learned, working with animals, that so many are highly perceptive. They may not fully understand our spoken language, but our body language can be interpreted by a lot of them. A person who’s a bit stiffer than the kids who come here can still play, and I’m sure your senior dogs recognize that on some level, right?”

  “Absolutely,” Bella responded.

  We had reached another enclosure, as large as the first, with the ubiquitous tile floor, and a big plastic-and-metal crate
at the rear with towels fluffed up in its base. This kennel had only one dog in it, an apparent Rottweiler mix with sagging jowls and lots of graying fur edging the black-and-red coloration of his face.

  He ran up to the fencing and nosed at it, as if he wanted us to pet him. I glanced at Bella for permission.

  She nodded. “Dolph could use some attention.” I went inside for a love fest of licks and hugs and nose-butting. I laughed as I played with him, enjoying every minute of it.

  But I did exit after a few minutes. There were other dogs to visit, other parts of the shelter to see.

  When I’d carefully latched the kennel behind me, Bella petted Dolph through the mesh gate. “Poor fellow was kept outside in his owner’s yard,” she said. “Lived there, I gather, for eight years, with his only shelter a drafty doghouse—until a neighbor who moved in next door had a young Lab that liked to jump. He got over the fence and attacked Dolph, who fought back and … well, the Lab survived but Dolph’s owners dumped him at a public shelter. I hated that story—so unfair to poor Dolph—and so I took him in.”

  “Poor Dolph,” I echoed. “Before. But he seems to be doing well now.”

  We continued walking through the kennel area. Save’Em’s facility was as huge inside as it had looked from the exterior, clean and attractive and filled with kennel enclosures. Not all were occupied—a good thing, since I’d already decided to make my contacts at the Southern California Rescuers Web site aware that Save’Em was open for business for special-needs pets.

  And we hadn’t even reached the area where the neediest were.

  Before we got to the end of the kennel area, a man with glasses and a distracted look on his flushed, narrow face walked up to us, hands filled with papers. “Oh, sorry, Bella,” he said. “I didn’t realize you were showing people around.”

  “I’ll stop in your office and talk to you just as soon as I can, Kip,” she told him. To Carlie and me she said, “This is Kip Schaley, Save’Em’s accountant and my excellent financial advisor.” The smile she turned on him was warm and made his complexion redden even more.