Beaglemania
Page 26
“Sure,” I said, puzzled yet smiling as I hung up.
What company was he talking about?
I heard some additional voices as I returned to the welcome room. A couple I’d met before were there. Were these the people who’d expressed an interest in adopting Honey?
They were!
The Lees had been waffling before about if this was the right time for them to bring a dog into their lives. Then Mr. Lee had gotten a stomach virus and they’d had to contend with getting him better. Then—well, they had lots of reasons why they hadn’t made an immediate decision. But right now, they both seemed thrilled that Honey was still here and available. They’d answered our questions before and brought along proof that their apartment building allowed pets, so I believed I’d be able to approve this adoption.
Smiling at Carlie, I excused myself and Nina to go with the Lees back to the shelter area, where Honey remained in the first kennel. She leaped at the gate and seemed utterly in heaven when Mrs. Lee took her into her arms, closed her eyes, and hugged the small white dog.
“Come with me so we can go over the paperwork,” Nina told them. “Assuming everything checks out, you’ll be able to take her home today.” She looked at me, and I nodded my approval. This adoption had been pending for a while.
“Thank you!” Mrs. Lee murmured into Honey’s neck, and her husband embraced them both.
Nina told me she’d handle the details. She ushered them all—adopters and pup—upstairs to the more private area there for filling out forms.
Carlie was still in the welcome area when I returned.
So was Brooke Pernall, with her dog Cheyenne. Oh, no. Was this upbeat day about to be ruined because the poor, sick woman was here to leave her beautiful golden retriever after all?
But Brooke looked a lot better than the last time I’d seen her. Her hair was styled, complete with highlights. She wore a businesslike suit jacket over dressy slacks. And she was smiling. Except for some tiredness behind her eyes, there was no sign of illness now.
“Hi, Lauren,” she said. “Congratulations on solving that guy’s murder and the other junk that’s gone on around here. Won’t happen again. You can be sure of that.”
“I can?”
Carlie, who’d been standing, sat back down at the table, regarding us with interest. She reached over and started petting Cheyenne, who stood near her.
“Didn’t Dante tell you?”
I recalled that he’d said I should expect company soon. Brooke? “No, but—”
“He’s one great guy, isn’t he? Rich, and he knows how to use money to get the most good out of it. Here’s the story.”
But before telling me, she glanced down quizzically toward Carlie.
“She’s cool,” I said, and I waved Brooke to join us at the table.
“Here’s what happened,” Brooke said. “I’m now an official employee of HotPets—security director. I may have mentioned to you that I have a background as a private investigator. After checking me out, Dante hired me to supervise security for all of his organizations, and that will include HotRescues. I now have an income and medical insurance—and he also sent me to the cardiologist with the best reputation in LA. I’m on meds now that started helping immediately. I’m not cured, but the doc I’m seeing is hopeful that I’ll at least keep my heart issue under control, and if things change, he has other medications he can prescribe or possibly a type of surgery that’s successful a lot.”
“Wow,” I said. “That’s great!”
“It sure is. Plus, Dante had the clout to get someone at my bank to pay attention, so now my mortgage is manageable. Cheyenne and I can stay in our home.”
“This is really something,” Carlie said. I could almost see her thought process. How could she work this into one of her TV shows?
“I think we need to keep this private,” I cautioned her.
“I recognize you.” Brooke smiled at Carlie. “You’re the star of Pet Fitness. That’s a really cool show. But, yes, none of this is to become public—not with Dante involved.” She turned back toward me. “I’ll be making sure that EverySecurity does its job right, or they’ll be gone. Plus, I’ve got a couple of former coworkers who can moonlight and stay here at HotRescues overnight sometimes to make sure the animals are okay and to keep EverySecurity on its toes. I may even stay here myself now and then as time goes on—we’ll see. In any event, the security for HotRescues—and for HotPets, and even the wildlife sanctuary Dante funds, HotWildlife—is going to get a whole lot better.”
“That’s great!” I exclaimed.
She stood. “I just wanted to drop in and tell you this, Lauren,” she said. “And to thank you. If it weren’t for you . . .” Her eyes welled up, and I again saw the fragile, desperate woman she’d been when she had come here the last time.
I stood, too, and gave her a hug. “I’m really glad it all worked out,” I said.
Giving Cheyenne a quick tug on his leash, she hurried toward the door. “See you again soon,” she said. “We’ll work out a good security plan then.”
I stared after her with a grin on my face so wide that I felt as if it was becoming etched there permanently.
“What a day you’re having,” Carlie said.
“I’ll say.” It had been amazing. Perfect. I’d been exonerated from committing murder and the rest, Honey had found a home, and HotRescues’ security issues were resolved . . . not to mention Brooke’s health problems. Could it get any better?
Maybe I should go home and not tempt my luck.
“Too bad I can’t use that stuff about Brooke and her dog on my show,” Carlie said. “I’d have had fun figuring out how to work it in. Oh, well. I need to get back to my clinic now, but I’ll call you later. Maybe we can get together for dinner.”
“Sounds good.” I heard a noise behind me, as if the door to the parking lot was opening. Had Brooke forgotten something?
Before I turned to look, Carlie said, “Well, hi, hero.”
I knew who it was, of course. Rolling my eyes at Carlie’s attempt at humor, I turned again. Sure enough, it was Matt.
He wasn’t alone. He held a leash, and on it was a beautiful, beautiful dog, mostly black and white, with some merle gray. She—I believed, at first glance, it was a she—appeared to be mostly Border collie, perhaps with some Australian shepherd thrown in. My favorites.
“Well, hi, sweetheart,” I said, slowly kneeling.
“I didn’t know you cared that much,” Matt countered. I looked up to see a twinkle in his brown eyes, and I laughed.
“Sure, I care. But I care more about your friend.”
“Oh, my heart.” Matt bunched his fist over his chest, as if I’d struck him there. I laughed.
He took a few steps toward me as I rose again. Our lips met in a quick, friendly—yet strangely tantalizing—kiss.
“Gotta run,” Carlie said. “I’ll definitely talk to you later, Lauren.” She left.
I was alone in the reception area with the guy who’d been so great and accommodating and even protective last night, when I’d needed his help.
And with this wonderful dog.
“Who is she?” I asked.
“She was called Zoey by her owner, who was, from all reports of her neighbors, one really nice senior citizen who died a few days ago from a heart attack. She didn’t have any family around. The locals weren’t sure what to do with Zoey and brought her to the East Valley Shelter earlier today. She’s been processed in, but . . . Well, I thought of you right away. And I don’t mean HotRescues. You ready to adopt a dog yourself, Vancouver? If not, I’m not leaving her.”
“I didn’t . . . I mean, I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it seriously, and . . .”
I looked down. Zoey was staring up at me, looking utterly serious. And lonely.
I had a feeling that the good stuff of this day was about to be topped with the greatest part of all.
I looked back up at Matt.
“You want to go to lun
ch with Zoey and me now to talk about it before you make this huge decision?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. I bent again to hug the pup. She was warm. Substantial. Snuggly. And she seemed to lean into me. “How about it, Zoey? Do you want to have lunch and talk about it?”
As if she understood our words—and I had an utter belief that she did—she barked.
I had a feeling I knew what my answer would be.
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