Teacup Tubulence

by Linda O. Johnston

  For just an instant, I thought I saw an expression of shock pass over his face, although it didn’t last long. “Sorry,” he said. “Onyx? What do you mean?”

  But I did see some looks I couldn’t interpret exchanged between his friends.

  “Did you adopt Onyx?” Mamie asked, excited. Her eyes glowed in her lined face, and she clapped her wizened hands together. She loved animals, especially her own dog, Herman, and every one of our pets was important to her. She got so attached to some that she even cried while she smiled when they went home with new families.

  She hadn’t had time to get so close to any of the teacup pups, but that didn’t mean she didn’t care about them.

  “I don’t know anything about some onyx,” the guy protested, but I still thought I saw a hint of fear in his eyes.

  Something was going on here. I wanted to pump them for more information about who they were and why they were here, but I didn’t get an opportunity to.

  Dante had arrived.

  He had turned the corner from the older part of our shelter. With him was Kendra, but neither had their dogs with them this time.

  Also walking near them were others from HotPets, pretty much the same crew who’d been here for the last party, I believed, but some additions, too. The Faylers, both of them. Also Chris Mandrea, and Dante’s assistant, Sheila. Others I’d seen at the HotPets Bling factory, including designers who worked with Chris, and even some who might be part of the assembly-line crew.

  Interesting.

  And who among them knew about the genuine jewels in some of the collars? All of them? One or two? What was the reason?

  Leaving Kendra with the rest of the group that crowded together in the swarm of other people, Dante approached me. He had clearly come from his office, since all he needed was a jacket and a tie to be completely dressed up for business.

  I wove my own way through the masses, smiling at anyone who met my eyes. These people could be future parents of HotRescues residents. Or they could be contributors. Or both.

  No matter what concerns were gnawing at my insides, I wasn’t about to act unfriendly to our invited, and uninvited, guests.

  “Good morning, Lauren.” Dante raised his voice to be heard above the noise around us. But then he drew closer and lowered it as he spoke into my ear. “How are you going to play this?”

  “Honestly? I haven’t come up with any great ideas. Have you?”

  “Just talk generally about the collars and how they apparently raised people’s awareness about shelters in general and saving small dogs in particular.”

  “Right. And . . . ?”

  “That’s all for now. I’ll keep an eye on my crew, and you can, too. If nothing else, I want whoever’s doing this to know we’re watching the collars and how they sell, as well as the little dogs we’ve helped to promote.”

  “You really think anyone will give himself or herself away by some kind of horrified reaction?”

  “No. But I know these people fairly well. And I also have another idea if we don’t make progress with figuring this out today.”

  “Glad someone does,” I retorted.

  He backed away and gave me a smile that looked full of irony. “I never thought you’d admit you had no ideas about anything, let alone a solution, Lauren.”

  “I admit nothing.” I crossed my arms and ignored his laugh as he strode back toward his crowd, the rest of the people apparently recognizing him or sensing his power, since they got out of his way.

  I noticed that the rest of my crowd had just arrived. Carlie and Liam had just entered our side plaza, and Matt was with them. Somehow seeing all of them boosted my morale, especially since Carlie, too, wore her Bling necklace that resembled the collars. I didn’t know yet what I was going to say, but I’d figure something out—and watch Dante’s people as I did so.

  I waved as I edged my way through the crowd toward the building that housed our small dogs. Carlie and Liam headed in the same direction. Good. I’d have some help.

  I saw that Pete must have anticipated what I was up to, as our senior handyman also drew near the building I was aiming for. Ricki and Nina, too.

  In a short while, I met up with my group inside the small-dog house. Some of the little pups were yapping, apparently with glee that there were finally people around them.

  I grabbed some leashes off the hook near the door and passed them around. “It’s about that time,” I said to the people, then repeated it, in more of a baby-talk tone, to the dogs. “You’re about to be introduced to the world as their potential babies,” I explained to them.

  Even if they didn’t understand my words, my tone must have resonated for them, since even the ones who’d remained still and quiet started to jump behind the glass doors to their enclosures.

  It didn’t take long to get them out and leashed. We all held more than one leash as we returned to the door.

  “Will you make a speech again this time, Lauren?” Carlie appeared to beam, and I knew that this animal champion was as glad as me that this latest group of little dogs was healthy and ready to find homes.

  “I sure am.” But I didn’t mention that it might sound a bit odd when I got on to the subject of the collars. She’d figure that out for herself.

  “Everything okay?” Matt bent over to ask quietly. He was at my side, dressed in his L.A. Animal Services uniform. At the same time, the little Pekingese whose leash he held, Chai, started pulling to catch up with the other dogs.

  I held the leashes of two small pups: Lemon, one of the Chihuahuas, and Oolong, the Maltese. They, too, were tugging, although not in the same direction.

  “I think so,” I replied. “Ask me again in about twenty minutes.”

  I immediately regretted that I’d said that. He probably would. I might not have an answer for him, any more than I’d have answers to all the questions doing backflips in my mind.

  But I did pull gently on the leashes I held and led my charges out the door. I was followed by everyone else who was in control of, or was controlled by, some of the little dogs.

  I stood just outside the building for a few moments before starting to yell, “Hey, everyone. Listen up! I really want to get this party started—the right way.”

  Other people started repeating my request until the idea finally went viral enough to get the crowd quieted somewhat. Then I began a spiel like the one I’d done at our last party.

  “Okay, everyone. Thanks for coming. This time, I want you all to welcome to HotRescues our latest teacup rescues.” I pulled notes out of my pocket and looked at them, then read off the names of the types of tea we had named the dogs in this group after. “They’re really ‘teacup’ this time. This latest gang is out of quarantine now and ready to find new forever homes. Time once more to celebrate. I have a few things to say first, though.”

  I watched as the people who’d looked like they were ready to walk off mostly stood still. At the same time, I noticed that the crowd now contained two new arrivals—Mark Black and Elsa Martin, Teresa Kantrim’s people. What were they doing here?

  Was it because Teresa had been killed after my last party?

  Were one or both planning on killing someone else—or was I just hoping they were the guilty parties?

  “I want to especially thank Dante DeFrancisco, CEO of HotPets, who is an invaluable asset to HotRescues,” I continued with no hesitation, despite my gaze pulsing back and forth along the crowd. “Although it’s his fault that the little teacup dogs are so much in demand. Everyone in L.A. loves the ads with those little dogs wearing HotPets Bling collars.”

  I waited for a few seconds as people nodded and smiled and otherwise acknowledged what I’d said.

  I tried not to be obvious as I centered my gaze on the gang from HotPets, but they all appeared as interested as everyone else. No one seemed concerned at all.

  That was when I went into an ad-lib description of the collars. “For any of you who haven’t seen them in person, they’re absolutely ama
zing. We have some of the designers here today.” I pointed in the general direction of the HotPets crowd. Now, at last, some of them appeared to squirm. But that didn’t necessarily mean they were admitting to doing something strange to the collars. “I mean, they’ve come up with symbols that really lend themselves to being captured on dog collars in brilliant stones that look like real jewels.”

  I noticed how Dante, though grinning at his staff, also seemed to be scrutinizing them. But was this doing any good whatsoever in figuring out who was involved?

  I didn’t think so.

  I went on like that a bit longer, praising the collars and how they looked and how cute the designs were . . . and how real the jewels looked. That should have evinced a reaction from the culprit, but I didn’t see it.

  Whoever it was, was good. And maybe I was just getting frustrated enough to want answers to everything immediately, but, right or wrong, I was sure that Teresa Kantrim’s death was somehow linked to this additional mystery.

  Not that I understood how . . . yet. But I’d figure it out.

  I had to, for Tom and Naya’s sake. And, more important, Dante’s.

  I realized, though, that I’d gone on long enough. Time to wind down—and let this enthusiastic gang meet some teacup dogs. Especially since the ones I’d been holding, now under Matt’s control, looked as antsy as the rest of them. Some probably needed a good walk to relieve themselves. Others were sniffing the crowd and wanted to go visit.

  And since they all needed good homes, it was time to let our nice, big crowd get to meet them, too.

  “Thank you all for coming,” I finished. “Now, come meet our latest rescued dogs.”

  I told Matt to let my volunteers and staff work on those introductions, but, nice guy that he is, he started talking to some folks about the little dogs whose leashes he still held.

  Slowly, I made my way toward Dante and the rest of his group.

  They were all talking, and I thanked them for coming. I couldn’t resist saying that I was eager to sell more HotPets Bling collars as we placed these dogs in new homes.

  I didn’t catch any more reaction then than I had while gushing over the collars in front of the throng watching me.

  But I wasn’t through. “Okay, which of you is going to admit that the HotPets Bling collars, or at least some of them, contain real bling?”

  “You mean actual jewels?” Dante’s assistant Sheila, who stood near Kendra and him, appeared stunned. She, too, was wearing a HotPets Bling necklace over a nice black dress. She looked at her boss. “Shouldn’t HotPets be charging a lot more for them?”

  Dante laughed. “Maybe so.” He kept his tone light, as if he thought what I said was a joke. But I noticed his eyes shift among his staff.

  I just smiled at the group, too, as I regarded them. But I kept irony in my smile, so whoever was involved would hopefully suspect that I did, in fact, know the truth.

  Which also meant I’d better watch my back. I didn’t want to wind up like Teresa if the two issues were, in fact, related.

  But no one leaped forward and admitted to the truth of the bling, let alone to being a murderer. Dante eventually dismissed them with a suggestion that they, too, take a look at the latest group of little dogs.

  I eventually got Dante and Kendra off alone. I knew she wasn’t guilty. She didn’t work for HotPets, she loved Dante, and she was a lawyer as well as a pet-sitter. Not that I believed all lawyers were good people, but I’d always found Kendra to be fairly down-to-earth.

  “Anything seem helpful to you?” I asked quietly.

  A look of anger passed over Dante’s face. “No,” he said. “If whoever’s involved is here, he’s damned good at hiding any reaction.”

  “Then we’ll just have to figure out something else,” I said. I wasn’t about to tell him what I had in mind, but I did have a thought.

  Maybe now that these guys were out of quarantine, it would be a good thing to do another airplane rescue.

  I noticed then that Mark Black and Elsa Martin were making their way toward me.

  “Nice party,” Elsa said. I listened for sarcasm in her voice but heard none. “Even though Teresa wouldn’t have been glad to have more of her dogs brought here, she’d have been happy that they were likely to find good homes quickly.”

  “That’s right,” Mark agreed. “But . . . well, I believe she was killed here right after your last group of little dogs came out of quarantine.” He looked at me for acknowledgment, and I gave it. “I assume you have a lot of security here tonight, right?”

  “Is that a threat?” I asked.

  “No, just a suggestion.” But his grin made me shudder.

  Chapter 30

  Just in case, we did have extra security at HotRescues that night. Not only Brooke and Antonio, but EverySecurity sent additional patrols to our facility after the one at the party.

  No one came by who shouldn’t have. There was no danger.

  But I still felt relieved when all was fine at my shelter that night and the next day.

  I also felt angry. And frustrated. I really needed to solve that murder before we could go on with things as they used to be.

  And I wanted to help Dante and his mystery about the HotPets Bling real, live jewels.

  I still figured the two issues were related. If I solved one, would I have a solution to the other, too?

  I was determined to find out.

  My best idea about how to deal with them required another rescue from Missouri of at least some of the remaining teacup dogs. Since the latest batch here at Hot-Rescues was out of quarantine, I called Juliet Ansiger first.

  Fortunately for me, but unfortunately for the poor little dogs, there were still another eight teacup rescues at the animal sanctuary. Some other groups, mostly in the east, had taken in the rest.

  “You’re prepared to bring in that many more?” Juliet asked. On the phone, I couldn’t tell whether she was incredulous or thrilled or both.

  “Yes,” I said. “I’ve a feeling that the dozen just let out of quarantine will find homes quickly.” That feeling was hope. And I also had some applications already that I would follow up on later today.

  Even so, we had room and could make more if necessary.

  She agreed to have them ready for Airborne Adoptions on the following Sunday.

  My next call was to Mike Relfer of Airborne Adoptions. “Sure,” he said. “We’ll do it. This is amazing—so many all at once like this. At least I think we’ll do it. I need to make sure we have enough pilots available and that they have enough fuel.”

  I crossed my fingers hopefully as I said, “You know, Dante DeFrancisco will probably help with the cost.”

  “Oh, yeah, Dante,” Mike said. “Nice guy. He’s been in contact with me about what we do, and what we need to continue to do it.”

  “I’m not surprised. He’s funded the last leg of our two previous rescues, and I know he’s happy with the results. I’ll check with him.”

  Which I did just after I hung up with Mike.

  I also told Dante my intentions of using this rescue to help figure out who was behind the Bling situation.

  He of course agreed and offered to pay for it. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Still working on that, although I have some ideas. Just make sure that the Faylers can do the flight segment again and that they intend to meet up with HotPets store managers to show off Bling collars.”

  “Which ones?” he snorted. “The ones with real gems, or our actual items for sale?”

  “Exactly,” I said noncommittally. “If it’s like last time, I suspect there could be some of both—or at least we’ll not tell anyone otherwise.”

  “Ah . . .” he said. “And that’s how you’re going to figure out what’s what?”

  “That’s how I hope to,” I acknowledged.

  After we hung up, I called Mike once again and told him the good news. “Your pilots on each of the legs can rest assured that at least their fuel will be taken
care of. Do you think you can put together a group?”

  “I’m fairly sure of it,” he said. “I’ll let you know if I have any problems.”

  When I hung up with him the second time, I felt pretty good. That was because I at least had plans in the works that might lead to some of the answers I sought.

  But I had other issues to contend with that day. And so, rather than just going out to visit our residents once more, as I probably would have on a normal day, I checked some computer files.

  What was the name of the guy who’d adopted little Onyx? My records showed he was Marshall Droven. I kept the file open on the computer and printed out his contact information.

  I didn’t intend to call first, but I’d go visit Marshall and Onyx. I recognized that, in the middle of the day, no one might be home, but he had said that he was in Internet sales, so, since he worked from his apartment, he could be there.

  I’d at least be able to check out his living situation to some extent. He’d said he lived in an apartment that allowed dogs, and he had shown me his lease to prove it.

  But an hour later, I wished I’d done as permitted by our adoption application and gone to see his home before letting him take Onyx.

  I’d driven to the address he had written down. It wasn’t an apartment but rather a mailbox drop-off location within a big-name printing and mailing store.

  “Onyx!” I whispered frantically, hitting the steering wheel of my Venza with the flat of one hand. Where was he?

  And what the hell was going on here?

  • • •

  I decided to wait till I was back at HotRescues and in front of the computer—and Droven’s application—before calling Brooke, but my anger must have shown on my face and in my attitude.

  “What’s wrong, Lauren?” Nina asked as I stomped through the welcome area.

  Zoey came out from behind the desk where she’d been with Nina, but even she didn’t get close to me.

  “I’m mad at myself,” I told Nina. I was even angrier with Marshall Droven. I almost never second-guess myself, but I was doing so now. That made the situation even worse. “I’ve been too lax in following up on applications lately. I used to go visit people’s homes a lot more before approving adoptions. Well, I’m going to do that again now. But I just hope it’s not too late for Onyx.”