Beaglemania Read online

  I sent her off with the couple, who seemed emotionally overwhelmed about seeing so many homeless animals here. I had the impression they’d never visited a shelter. Did they want a pet? Maybe they would now, even if they hadn’t considered one before.

  The area was crowded now with people who didn’t stay on any paths but approached the dog enclosures and cat crates with oohs and aahs I could hear from far away. Surely some of them would fall immediately and madly in love—hopefully good people who’d pass our adoption scrutiny. At least the weather was on our side, which it usually was in LA. Not too hot and not too cold; just right for attracting people to stroll around and, hopefully, fall for the pets of their dreams.

  Our animal shrink, Dr. Mona Harvey, was there, flitting from one enclosure to the next. I was able to chat with her along with our vet tech, Angie Shayde, giving them similar spiels to what I’d talked with Nina about. They hadn’t liked Efram—or at least what he’d done—any better than I had. Admit here to killing him? Not quite.

  I saw Captain Matt Kingston approaching from the side of our festival. He was another person I’d intended to sound out about how he felt about a memorial for Efram—and whether he could have been involved in the event that generated it.

  He, even more than Nina, seemed to have no alibi for the night Efram was killed, or for the ensuing dangerous situations at HotRescues. He clearly had despised Efram as much as I had. But kill him?

  Well, someone had, and the thing I was surest of was that it wasn’t me.

  Matt had come in his official Animal Services uniform—khaki shirt, green slacks, and jacket with appropriate badge and patch.

  He stopped long before he got to me and knelt outside one of the fenced-in areas. I stood. As I’d thought, that was the place that the animals from the puppy mill were now enclosed. I guessed he was doing his official duty and making sure they were well cared for.

  Motioning to Bev, who’d just finished walking a sheltie mix, to take my place at the table, I headed toward Matt. He was still on his knees, his hand inside the enclosure where Missy and Sweety vied to sniff it. He turned his too sexy grin from them toward me.

  “Glad you could make it,” I told him. “There’s been some interest in adopting those guys, but it’s too soon. I’ll let you know if anything comes of it.”

  “Great.” He stood to face me. I’d noticed before how much taller than me he was, but he now seemed to marshal his height and stare down. “What’s this really about, Lauren? A memorial for a guy you despised?”

  “It’s intended to send a message,” I said coolly. “That even if he couldn’t be rehabilitated while alive, at least there can be happy endings for some of the animals he abused. You know HotRescues would love to take in more of the moms, dads, or pups that were saved from the puppy mill, when Animal Services is ready for them to leave.”

  “Right.” Matt cocked his head slightly, watching as if attempting to read what was actually inside my brain.

  I could give him a hint . . . “Don’t you think that might be what the person who killed him intended? I mean, to teach not only him, but others who abused animals a lesson.” My turn to scrutinize him for a reaction.

  “Sounds like a stretch,” he said. “But even so, I hope you’re successful here today.”

  Me, too, I thought—in both of my endeavors.

  Matt’s attitude and words had neither made him more of a suspect or less. I still had to mistrust him, for reasons including the Animal Services paperwork found near the back entrance on the day the pit bull had mysteriously appeared, but I didn’t really want to.

  A tall, thin guy in shorts and sleeveless T-shirt jogged up to us. His dog, too—a leashed and panting Border collie. “Hi,” the guy said, addressing Matt. “What’s going on here?”

  Matt quickly explained the adoption event while I bent and petted his companion. She looked up at me, and I smiled back. This obviously was a loved dog, and I sensed she understood how much better she had it than her enclosed cohorts around here.

  As the two loped off, I watched, then realized Matt was watching me. “Cute,” I said. “And smart.”

  “Border collie,” he responded. I nodded, hoping my wistfulness didn’t show. There was something about that kind of dog that spoke to me without saying a word. If ever I were to adopt a dog again myself . . . but not now.

  Matt began to walk away, glancing back as if he assumed I would follow. I didn’t—mostly because I’d just spotted another of the people I’d hoped would be here that day, Ed Bransom of EverySecurity. He didn’t look as if he was there in any official role for his company, since he wore an LA Dodgers T-shirt over jeans. Since I’d seen him most often in his dark green uniform, I was a little surprised to see that he had well-toned muscles. I supposed that made sense for someone who was in the business of keeping customers safe.

  It also moved him higher in my suspect assessment. The knife that had killed Efram was sharp, but even so, the person who’d wielded it needed strength behind it. Plus, it had taken some strength to move those pet food bags around for the Honey incident.

  Whatever his reason for being there, it apparently wasn’t because he intended to adopt a pet. Nor had I called him to help with any security here.

  “Hello, Lauren,” he said. “What the hell is going on? I’ve heard from our main office that Dante DeFrancisco is considering other security companies for HotPets and your little shelter. Is that your doing?”

  Yes, I’d finally had a conversation with Dante. Despite his long-term friendship with the EverySecurity CEO, he’d promised to consider alternatives . . . under the circumstances.

  “I think it’s a wise course of action,” I told him. “You seem to have the idea that everything your company should have prevented at HotRescues was my doing. It wasn’t. A parting of the ways is more than appropriate.”

  I still hadn’t heard a viable explanation or excuse for the slipup in the Honey matter—except to blame me. Plus, Bransom also blamed me, vocally, for the unwelcome pit bull visit. Even if he was innocent of everything that had happened, he couldn’t have been surprised that I wanted his company gone. But the fact that Dante so far was on my side and was looking at other options for his entire business empire? That might have annoyed this dismal excuse for a security advisor, more than a little.

  Another reason for him to become an even weightier suspect. Yet why would he have killed Efram in the first place? Just because the guy had shown up at HotRescues in the middle of the night? Bransom didn’t appear to care whether someone was abusing animals, unless he was paid to pretend to give a damn. But to protect his own butt, or his job . . . ?

  He took a step toward me. Maybe I should have acted cowed and stepped back, but I didn’t. I stared him right in the eye.

  “You’d better watch what you say. We’ve had this account sewed up for a long time, and you’re not going to ruin it.”

  “I think that you’ve managed to do that yourself,” I said, then turned and walked away.

  And practically felt the daggers from his glare piercing my back like the HotRescues feed knives.

  Oh, yes, this man was one person I definitely suspected.

  I took a quick potty break and returned to the adoption area near the far side, where that very pit bull was in a nice, roomy crate—all by himself, of course. Si was near him, sitting on a folding chair. As I approached, he jumped to his feet.

  “Lauren, I’ve been hoping to get you over here. I want to show you my progress with Perry.”

  “Perry?”

  “I thought that Perry the pit bull mix would sound cute and not especially scary.”

  “Got it.”

  As Si bent to open the crate and leash Perry, I looked around. The park was still full of visitors. I crossed my fingers, hoping that Perry wouldn’t attack anyone else. Including me.

  I noticed Matt watching from a distance. He hurried in our direction as Si brought the nearly all white dog out. I appreciated Matt’s concern.
Was it for me or for everyone here, as part of his Animal Services responsibilities? Probably both. Whichever, it made me feel good.

  Si noticed him, too, and glared. “Please stay back,” he said. “Everything’s under control.”

  And it was. Si put Perry through an amazing array of commands, from the usual “sit” and “down” to “shake” and even “beg.”

  “You did this in a week?” I said in amazement.

  “He knew some of it. Whoever his owner may have been before, he’d apparently had some training. I’ve found that the more I work him out, the less aggressive he is. He’s not for a household with kids or other pets, but he’s a good candidate for adoption.”

  “One more test.” I’m not usually wimpy when it comes to being around any kinds of animals, but Perry had been one nasty canine to me before. I approached him slowly, my hand out in a nonthreatening manner, but half expected him to go back into snarl and growl mode.

  He didn’t. In fact, his tongue flopped out of his mouth as I petted him.

  As I stepped back, I smiled at Si and gave him a brief hug—making sure that Perry didn’t take it as a threatening gesture toward his new master. “You’re fantastic!” I told Si. “Don’t you think so, Perry?”

  The dog I’d feared so much previously just seemed to smile.

  I visited the cat area next and was thrilled to learn from Nina and a couple of our volunteers that half of the kitties we’d brought here were likely to be rehomed, once I approved the applications. I wanted to hug them all in congratulations. But that was when I spotted two more people I’d hoped would show up that day, thanks to my e-mailed invitations: the Shaheens.

  Patsy and Bradley looked bemused when I greeted them, then showed them the two parent dogs from their puppy mill. “We haven’t found new homes for them yet,” I told the couple I despised. “Too soon. But we will when it’s appropriate.”

  Patsy again put on her act of loving them all and missing them. And blaming Efram for everything.

  I again thought how convenient, since he was dead. Possibly at her hands, or her husband’s.

  We were joined then by Efram’s stepmother and girlfriend, whom I’d also invited. Apparently the Shaheens knew Mandy Ledinger and Shellie Benudo. Maybe they’d met Efram’s stepmother and girlfriend at his funeral, if not before.

  Smiling a lot and keeping my digs at them ambiguous, I told them my reason for holding this adoption event in Efram’s honor. Did they buy it? Maybe.

  The Shaheens still seemed affronted that I would equate their actions with Efram’s supposed really bad animal abuse in throwing puppies into a storm drain. After all, they’d merely tortured dogs and their offspring by untenable conditions.

  Mandy and Shellie seemed to accept the situation with more grace, although they still maintained that Efram had done nothing wrong. Holding an event like this to help counter anything he had allegedly done was insulting to his memory.

  Had any of them killed him? A definite maybe, considering their respective attitudes—although they seemed more angry with me than with Efram. Could any of them have tried to cover it up by the ensuing shenanigans that had taken place at HotRescues? Yes, if Efram had demonstrated how to get in and circumvent the security, including the cameras.

  But no one yet knew where Perry had come from or how he’d gotten loose on the premises. That could be the key.

  Or not.

  Later, we returned to HotRescues with all the animals, including those who were likely now to be adopted. I helped to get them into their enclosures once more, then started the administrative work to sign them each back in again.

  We’d had a fairly successful day, with quite a few potential rehomings—although I would definitely follow up as quickly as possible with visits to make sure the adopters were as kind and caring as they’d professed on their applications and in person. I’d also make sure they had the suitable facilities they’d described for their new pets.

  I realized several things as I returned to my office and collapsed.

  A few people I’d hoped to see there, including James Remseyer, Efram’s attorney, hadn’t shown up. That didn’t gain him any brownie points with me. He was still a suspect.

  The other thing that I found particularly interesting—and disturbing? Well, I’d heard stories of how Dante’s lady friend, Kendra Ballantyne, the lawyer, had solved quite a few murder cases. She’d done it in odd ways, setting things up, often, to have animals she was pet-sitting involved in the resolution.

  I’d done something similar today. I’d hoped for an equally good result, determining once and for all who’d murdered Efram.

  But despite such a good day in so many other ways, especially for some of our former HotRescues animals, I still felt no closer to determining the killer.

  Chapter 29

  I was about as happy that evening in my office at HotRescues as one of our pet residents who’s just been relinquished here permanently by his former owner.

  First, I noticed I’d missed a call on my BlackBerry from Detective Garciana. Usually, I was perturbed if I didn’t hear my phone ring while easily accessible, in my pocket. Not this time. I’d even missed its vibration with all the excitement of the adoption event going on around me.

  That was the only good thing about the call.

  At our pet fair, I’d spoken with nearly everyone I’d wanted to talk to that day. Even so, I was no more ahead in figuring out what had happened to Efram than I had been before.

  At least the detective hadn’t shown up at the park. I definitely wouldn’t have wanted to talk to him then. Or now. Or ever. But I doubted I had a choice.

  He’d left me a message to call him. He had more questions. And, oh yes, it was fine for us to set up a meeting where my lawyer could be present.

  Those questions of his would go on forever. Or until he arrested me for Efram’s murder. Whichever happened first.

  I had a feeling inside—one that squeezed my lungs into a tight, constricted ball—that it would be the latter. Soon.

  At least it was too late to call the detective back now. Tomorrow? Maybe I would forget. Or lose my phone.

  I stayed at HotRescues long after my staff had departed. I used the excuse to them, and to myself, that I still had a lot of administrative work to do.

  That was true.

  It was also true that I didn’t have to do it all myself. Or that night. But I wanted the distraction.

  When the last to leave, Nina, got on her way, I waited for a few minutes, then walked through the shelter area, greeting all our residents who were still around.

  Was I nervous after everything that had been happening around here? I’d have been a fool not to be.

  But would I let it stop me? Never!

  I even smiled and waved at the security cameras, in case they were working and being monitored by someone under orders to watch my every move—and to pray I did something really awful that they could record and show to the cops and to Dante.

  I stopped to open gates and hug as many dogs as I could—and especially to commiserate with those animals who’d been at the fair and had to return here.

  Perry was among them. We were ostensibly boarding him now for Si, and if we happened to find him a good home that would be fine, too. I tempted fate—and Si’s amazingly excellent training—by first putting my arm through the fencing and petting the formerly vicious dog. I half expected him to bite a finger or two off. Instead, he came over and let me pet him. I went inside his enclosure.

  “You’re wonderful,” I verbally caressed him, too. “It’s so much better for you to be so calm and sweet. I wish we’d been able to learn where you came from. Well, if we can’t figure it out, we’ll find you a new, loving home that’s just right for you. I’ll make sure of it.”

  I hoped I could deliver.

  With a final hug for that night, I reluctantly slipped out, locking Perry’s gate behind me—making sure I’d done it securely. I always checked, or tried to, with all our res
idents. I especially didn’t want to take a chance on Perry’s getting out in case he reverted to his prior aggressiveness.

  The HotRescues grounds were fairly bright, thanks to our lighting. The dogs barked a lot, as usual. Now and then, I got a whiff of an enclosure that needed cleaning, and I stopped to take care of the offending piles inside—using that as an excuse to hug another lonely dog.

  I went into the center building and provided a similar pep talk to the smaller dogs and the cats who came back here. “I know you don’t show it as much on the surface,” I told a ginger and a Siamese cat who’d both been at the fair, and who deigned to look at me now, “but I’m sure you were hoping you’d find a new human servant to take you home with them today. It’ll happen.”

  My current round was over. I’d visited everyone who lived here.

  I stood outside the central building, close to the spot where Efram had died. It wasn’t far from where Perry had all but attacked me. From there, I went back to Honey’s enclosure. “I’m really surprised you’re still here,” I told her sadly. “I’ll bet you are, too. We’ll figure something out.”

  What I figured just then was that I needed to visit the storage building. I yanked the door open, flicked on the lights, and went in. I stomped through both floors and left again.

  Outside, I again walked from one end of the shelter grounds to the other.

  And then I realized what I was doing: tempting not only the security company, but, even more importantly, the killer, the person who’d been inciting all the mischief around here. My moving around the entire facility was a challenge. A dare. Here I am . . . again. Come and get me.

  Show your face, you damned coward.

  But except for the animals who watched me, sometimes barking, occasionally whining, and nearly always alert, I was alone. And disheartened.

  I needed answers. Right away.

  Before I was confronted once more by Detective Garciana.

  Before I lost my mind from frustration.