Nothing to Fear But Ferrets Page 7

  I chose not to pursue questions about where they’d been or what they’d been doing. A picture glowed graphically in my mind, though, till I switched to something else. “Did you have any idea Chad would be in the house when you were gone?”

  She shook her head so vehemently that her long braid gave a whiplike lash. Her ensuing unsteady blink suggested her drinking, plus her head movement, had made her dizzy.

  “And do they know how he got in?”

  “The police shed … er, said, that some of the plastic stuck to the wall that the Hummer smashed in was loose.” She slurred an occasional word despite the clarity of what she said.

  When I’d arrived, the front door was ajar. How had it gotten open in the first place? Maybe the killer and Chad came in through the plastic and only the killer exited from the front …

  “Chad had no business being there,” Charlotte continued. “He knew I never wanted to see him again, and I told him that once more at the party. But he wanted to ruin everything, out of revenge. Only he was the one who hurt me, you see?” She paused till I nodded. “Never mind that he’d planned all the time to stay with his girlfriend. He was so pished … pissed off after I dumped him on the last show that he made it clear he’d do anything to convince the producers I was really madly in love with him and intended to see him secretly. And he knew full well that my seeing him would mean I wouldn’t get to keep the money or be able to help develop new shows. Spite, that’s all it was.”

  “And a good motive,” I muttered.

  She shot me a horrified, if fuzzy, stare. “You don’t think I did it, do you, Kendra?”

  “Of course not.” I wished I was as convinced as I hoped I conveyed.

  “Honest,” she said, holding up some fingers unsteadily, as if she was either attempting a Girl Scout oath or was too soused to sense that the bird she flipped me wasn’t flying. “I didn’t know Chad was there the night he died. Neither did Yul. He must have sneaked in to try again to sabotage everything for me.”

  “So you killed him. Okay, okay, I’m just playing devil’s advocate,” I said in response to the look of horror on her face.

  “You’ve got to believe me.” Charlotte’s grasp was firm, her unfocused blue eyes beseeching. “The ferrets may have been framed, but if those sweet little guys get off altogether, we’ll be framed instead. Please help us. I’ll hire you, because I know that, of all people, you’ll understand. You went through the same kind of thing, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” I admitted reluctantly. “And I agree you need a lawyer. I can give you a referral, but you can’t hire me, Charlotte. Even if I had my law license back, I’m a civil litigator, not a criminal defense attorney.”

  “We don’t need a lawyer, at least not yet. You solved the murders in your own case. Can’t we hire you to find out what really happened?”

  “I’m not a private investigator, either.” Although I knew a damned good one. One whom, if I asked, would help me figure out what really went on among Chad, my tenants, and their ferrets.

  Hey, I was actually considering it. Did I buy her story?

  My pondering must have been legible in my expression, for Charlotte cried, “You will help us. I know you will. You believe me, don’t you?”

  “What I believe is that I’ve got a lot of questions that need to be answered before—”

  Before I knew what she was doing, Charlotte had sprung to her feet and drawn me into one of those hugs that had so repelled me when I’d first rented my adored house to her.

  The movement must have startled Lexie awake, and she leapt up, woofed, and lapped excited circles around Charlotte and me.

  My mind began to churn inside my skull. When, over the last few months, had I actually begun not to loathe my bubbly lessee? And when, over the last few minutes, had I started to sincerely entertain that she might be telling the truth?

  “No guarantees, Charlotte …” I finally said to her slowly, my mouth muffled against the thin shirt over her bony shoulder. She was at least five inches taller than my five-five. “But I’ll try to help figure out who really killed Chad.”

  Even as I said it, I wondered what the heck I was letting myself in for.

  Chapter Ten

  MY ANXIETY WAS as high-strung as a tennis racket by the time I reached Jeff by phone that evening. Or rather, he reached me, on my cell.

  I’d planned on an intense night of study at home alone, since the ethics exam was only days away. But right now, my head was too hyper to let me focus.

  “Where’ve you been?” I demanded without preamble when he finally responded to my multiple messages. Lexie and I were just scaling the steps again to our apartment after her latest evening constitutional. And mine. Walking was supposed to have helped me clear my chaotic mind.

  Right.

  “I’m delighted you’ve missed me.” Jeff’s reply was far from an answer to my inquiry.

  “I need to talk to you,” I said.

  “Good. I need to talk to you, too. Why don’t Lexie and you come over to my place and plan to spend the night?”

  “Why don’t Odin and you come to my place?”

  “Uh-oh. A power struggle. Want to compromise and book a hotel room?”

  “With the dogs?”

  He laughed. “Obviously I can’t win. I’ll come there.”

  “No,” I grumbled perversely, “I’ll go there.”

  “Okay.”

  The fact he let my offer stand elevated my dander even higher. But I was tired of this discussion and let it drop.

  Besides, I needed a change of scenery. What if I ran into Charlotte and Yul before I’d had a chance to vent about my quasicommitment to them?

  “I’ll bring takeout,” I said. “Thai?”

  “How about … Never mind. Throwing in another nationality for consideration will only start us off again. Thai it is.”

  Forty-five minutes later, Lexie and I parked my Beamer in Jeff ’s driveway, and I bent back in to pick up the bags of aromatic Asian dinner delights. I knew Jeff ’s preferences in Thai foods, as he knew mine.

  Odin wagged his curled tail as Jeff let us in the door. Our host’s cargo shorts did justice showing off his hairy male legs, and his snug black Malibu T-shirt made me feel glad I hadn’t changed from the similar stuff I’d thrown on in anticipation of studying. Only my shirt said CABO SAN LUCAS, it was green, and the bulges it hugged on me were boobs, not biceps and pecs.

  I caught Jeff ’s appreciative ogle as he took one of the bags from me, and I figured my bulges blossomed in all the right places.

  The two pups sniffed each other, then swooshed off for a romp through the house. I knew they’d end up in the kitchen with us. The aroma of food would be too hard to resist, even if the nasty old humans refused to share.

  Which we didn’t. Not totally. I’d opted for our usuals of pad Thai and mee krob, but had also gotten an order of barely seasoned sticky rice thrown in. Rice is good for a sick doggy’s stomach. Neither of our pets needed that kind of pampering, but I nevertheless figured I’d let them join us for more than their usual food.

  Over dinner on Jeff ’s round kitchen table, I related my conversation with Charlotte, finishing with the pièce de résistance: my promise to help find who killed Chad and tried to frame the ferrets—and thereby, at least peripherally, Yul and her.

  “Did she give any details about how the cops think Chad really died?” Jeff asked when I was finished.

  “No details, I gathered. Only innuendoes.”

  “Okay, so some unidentified suspect did something to Chad, then let the ferrets out to hide what really happened. Why wouldn’t that be Charlotte or Yul?”

  “Because,” I said, “Charlotte wants to hire me to figure out who it really was.”

  Jeff laughed. “Maybe that’s because she figures you’ll fail.” I stood and scowled, till Jeff threw his hands up. “Okay, let’s assume you’re right and they’re innocent. How did you plan to figure out who the real killer was?”

  I
sat once more, but stayed on the edge of my seat. “The way I did it before—make a list of candidates, then go corner all of them and see where it leads.”

  “It nearly led to your own murder the last time.” It was Jeff ’s turn to scowl, and it had nothing to do with the fact he’d just swallowed a big bite of the sweet-and-sour noodle concoction that was mee krob.

  “But I survived. Not only that, I figured out who was framing me.”

  “And that makes you an expert.”

  “No, but I have one who could advise me, if he decided not to be an insulting and conceited jerk about the whole thing.”

  “What if he’s a concerned jerk?”

  I sighed as our eyes caught. His were blue and shadowed by his straight brows, and right now they radiated the concern he’d chucked out between us. He had me there. My righteous irritation puddled into a big glob of gooey happiness. “No need to worry about me, Jeff,” I said softly.

  “Yeah, there is. Besides, I’m going out of town again tomorrow, unexpectedly. Can you stay here and take care of Odin?”

  I nodded. “I’ll get your advice by phone.”

  “You’re not a licensed investigator, Kendra.” He’d dredged up another dilemma in his attempt to dissuade me. “There’s a lot of looking around that you can’t do.”

  “A P.I.’s employees who are learning how to become the real thing don’t need their licenses right away,” I reminded him. “You even suggested hiring me before, when I successfully investigated my own case.”

  “But you said no. And now you want to be a P.I. rather than an attorney?” He shook his head in skepticism.

  “No, but I can say I’m on your staff if anyone questions me.” Before Jeff could craft a denial, I continued, “The thing is, if Charlotte and Yul are being framed, directly or indirectly, well … after what happened to me, I can identify with their fear, the sense of fatalism, the whole scary scenario. I have to help them, Jeff, assuming they’re innocent. And even if they’re not, either way I’ll hand over whatever evidence I find to Noralles.”

  “But—” Jeff bit off whatever he was about to blurt out, replacing it with a bite of rice. “Okay. Whatever I say, it won’t change your mind. So all I can do is to tell you again to be careful.”

  “I will.”

  Later, we both rinsed dishes, stuck them in the dishwasher, and went outside for our final romp with the dogs for the night.

  And then it was time for bed.

  When I’d first started pet-sitting for Jeff, my space had been a guest bedroom he also used for storage. The boxes he kept there had stoked my curiosity. Still did, truth be told. One of them was labeled PHILIPE PELLERA, and now I’d actually met—well, seen from several feet away—the Latin singing sex symbol.

  But my legal ethics, though unjustly besieged, hadn’t let me look in those boxes before.

  And now my spot in Jeff ’s home was with him, the dogs resting near each other on the floor by the bed.

  We showered together, then dove headlong into bed for recreation of the most creatively sensual kind.

  Later, worn out, we wound limbs around each other and waited for sleep to snatch us mentally apart, but physically, for tonight at least, we were together.

  “Where are you going tomorrow?” I asked.

  “Chicago,” he murmured drowsily into my ear. His breath against me there made me consider waking once more, but I was too drained to tender the idea. “You’ll stay here with Odin?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” I assured him sleepily. “Or I’ll bring him home with Lexie and me.”

  “Why don’t you just move in here?” he asked. “And not just while I’m away.” He sounded a little less dream-beguiled, and I froze, priming myself for the punch line.

  It didn’t come.

  “Did you hear me, Kendra?” he asked. “This isn’t just pillow talk. I’ve been thinking about it. You know there’s plenty of room even when I’m here, and it’ll give you distance from your new sort-of investigative clients who happen to be your tenants, too.” Not even a hint of haziness remained in his tone.

  He was serious.

  I didn’t let myself move, for fear I’d roll away so far we’d never come together again. “We’ve only known each other a few months, Jeff,” I reminded him.

  At the same time, my own mind reminded me that I’d finally begun to feel that my taste in lovers had vastly improved lately.

  Yeah, but was I ready to make it permanent?

  Moving in didn’t make a lifetime commitment, announced my bold internal devil’s advocate.

  But it did imply some kind of commitment, my shivering sense of self-preservation countered.

  “It’s been an intense few months,” Jeff said, starting to nibble my neck all over again.

  “That’s for sure,” I agreed.

  “You don’t need to give me an answer now,” he said, still nuzzling. “Just think about it.”

  “Oh, I will,” I said, and turned to meet his mouth with mine.

  Between kisses, Jeff murmured, “I love you, Kendra.” At least I thought he did. He didn’t repeat it. I didn’t meet it with a pronouncement of my own.

  But even long after, when we’d made luscious love yet again, that soothing dream state I’d been in failed to return.

  And it wasn’t just whether my tenants’ ferrets were being framed that frazzled my wide-awake mind.

  Move in with Jeff?

  Love?

  Oh, Lord, this freight train was moving too fast!

  WE SAID GOODBYE with another big kiss the next morning before Lexie and I headed for our day’s pet-sitting assignments.

  It hadn’t been just pillow talk, since Jeff pressed me with a reminder after escorting us to the Beamer. “I could always move in with you,” he said, “but we’d be a little cramped.”

  “Say hi to Chicago for me, Hubbard,” I countered.

  “I won’t tell you again to think about it,” he said. “You will.”

  “Yeah,” I admitted, “I will.” And then I backed the Beamer out.

  I stopped home to change my clothes.

  My home. My little apartment beside the big house that had been my home. The big house now occupied by Charlotte and Yul, who needed my help to seek out who’d really killed Chad Chatsworth—if it wasn’t them.

  That’s what I needed to concentrate on.

  And having Charlotte come dashing out of that very house in a slinky peach silk nightgown was a good reminder. She wore matching floppy mules trimmed in feathers, too.

  “Have you found anything helpful yet, Kendra?” she began breathlessly. Her hair wasn’t braided at this hour, but its black length was held back from her face by—what else?—a matching peach ribbon. I had never seen her without makeup before. She was still pretty, but didn’t appear as glamorous as usual.

  “No,” I admitted, “but I’ve gotten expert advice from a private investigator I’ll be sort of working for while I help the ferrets and you. Right now, I want you and Yul to make lists of people who don’t like you much. You don’t have to focus on bitter enemies, though you can asterisk their names so I’ll know.”

  “The bitterest was Chad himself,” Charlotte said gloomily.

  “Well, think about who else. Leave the list in my mailbox. I’ll come back for it later, though I’m going to be spending the next few nights at a client’s, watching his dog.” Or a lover’s, deciding whether his home would become my concurrent castle …

  Lord, Jeff hadn’t lied. His unanticipated invitation was already messing with my perturbed mind.

  Chapter Eleven

  AS SOON AS I’d hurried through my early-morning routine of rounding up cats, raking out their litter boxes, and feeding them, plus walking dogs and watching them inhale morning meals, Lexie and I sped toward Darryl’s doggy spa.

  Lexie was full of extra exuberance since I’d mostly left her locked in the car, parked in the shade, windows carefully cracked, during my morning pet encounters. The problem was, her presence, t
hough always a pleasure, never failed to impede my intended quick progress.

  I figured she’d dash around Darryl’s and work off some of the energy that caused her to bounce from one side of the Beamer to the other. More often than not, she landed smack on my lap, mostly while I attempted to navigate the most challenging of turns on San Fernando Valley streets. At least, with my current cadre of clients, I mostly steered clear of freeways.

  But it wasn’t only because of Lexie that I needed a Darryl fix. I craved his company. I required his counsel. I was the lawyer, but he had more common sense than a courtroom full of arguing attorneys.

  It was okay for me to say that, since I was previously a proud member of that much-maligned clan. And I intended to engage again, as soon as the ethics exam allowed.

  The ethics exam. Oh, heavens, it was coming up in just days, and I was far from comfortable that I’d do well, and—

  At the same moment I was angsting over that thought, I negotiated a left turn on a yellow light through a well-traveled intersection onto Ventura Boulevard, Lexie leapt on my lap, and my cell phone signaled a call coming in. My cell used to sing the “Ode to Joy,” but I’d grown jaded about so much joviality. It now blared a rousing rendition of Bon Jovi’s “It’s My Life.”

  Fortunately, there was a gap in the parallel-parked cars along Ventura, and I slid the Beamer into it. Phone still shrilling, I gently shoved Lexie onto the passenger’s seat and said, “Stay.” Only then did I feel undistracted enough to reach for the phone. The caller ID showed a local number but I hadn’t an inkling whose it was.

  “Kendra Ballantyne,” I answered as smartly as if I’d slid back a few months and sat in my law office accepting client calls.