Could I state with absolute certainty that none of those who’d had pets napped hadn’t done it themselves to throw the authorities off the track?
Not really.
Well, then, could I say for certain that none had been the one who’d attacked me?
Nope.
But the main things of which I felt reasonably certain were my relief and delight that the missing pets were found and returned home safe and sound . . . and that Nya’s killer, and my attacker, were probably the same person, and that he or she remained on the loose, quite possibly plotting more mischief against pets and their sitters.
Chapter Twenty-three
OKAY, SO I still didn’t know whodun anything. Neither the pet-napper nor the Nya killer had been outed by the finding of the missing pups and kitty.
But I nevertheless had a bit of good news worth sharing with the world.
And so, even before Jeff and I departed from the police station, I stood in the large reception area, turned my back toward the big desk where a cop in uniform usurped the role of receptionist, and made a call on my cell phone.
To whom?
To Corina Carey, of course.
“What do you have for me, Kendra?” she asked immediately.
“A scoop, if you want it.”
“Do dogs pee?”
“They sure do when I’m watching them. And not so coincidentally, my info is about dogs.” I proceeded to enlighten her about the Loving Friends Animal Shelter, and how its people had, intentionally or otherwise, decided not to check for owners of its latest group of dumped pets. And how I’d seen their sad faces on the Internet. And how Jeff and I had gone to check them out . . . and now three more dogs and a cat were home with their loving families.
“You rule, Kendra!” Corina cheered, making me feel all the more cheerful.
“Thanks,” I said in a quietly modest tone.
“I don’t suppose you’ve solved Nya Barston’s murder, have you?”
Nothing like a truthful dig to knock me down a peg. “No,” I admitted, sounding somewhat churlish. “Not yet.”
“Well, you’ll tell me when you do, won’t you?”
“Do dogs fly?”
“Hey, Kendra.” Now it was her turn to sound touchy. But I didn’t hear the rest of her chiding. I’d hung up.
Almost immediately, my phone rang again. I considered jamming it deep into my purse, assuming it was Corina calling again to goad me or get more info. I didn’t want either one.
Fortunately, before I jammed, I peeked at the caller ID.
Tom Venson.
I smiled as I answered—until I realized that this was late on Sunday. He’d promised to call me to plan an outing sometime this weekend.
Never mind that the almost-date had entirely slipped my mind until now. I was immediately miffed. And hurt.
“Hi, Tom,” I said in a tone that bespoke friendship but no romantic attraction. Which was when I saw Jeff finally emerge from the innards of the police station via a doorway off the main reception area. Great timing.
“Kendra, I’m really sorry I didn’t call sooner. There was so much going on at the clinic this week . . . can we get together for dinner tonight so I can tell you all about it?”
By then, Jeff was nearly nose to nose with me. His grin was nasty. “That your boyfriend?” he asked.
“I thought you were my boyfriend,” I whispered sweetly.
“Really?” Tom said, sounding really happy about the idea.
I forbore from rolling my eyes. Men.
“Tell him you’re busy tonight,” Jeff said sotto voce. “Unless you want me along to chaperone. I’m not letting you out of my sight yet.”
“How sweet,” I said, ensuring that the receiver was covered. “I didn’t know you cared.”
Which earned me a glare. And a forceful rebuttal. “Yeah, I care. I care whether you get attacked again by some maniac with a baseball bat. And now that word’s likely to get out that you’ve found the stolen pets and gotten them home, our theft suspect, assuming he or she’s one and the same as the killer, may be a little miffed at you. So you’re stuck with me for now. We’re stuck with each other.”
With that, Jeff trod off to the police station door, where he pivoted and stood, arms folded, glaring at me.
“Er . . . Tom,” I said into the phone.
“What’s going on there, Kendra?” My friendly vet no longer sounded so pleased to be talking to me.
“Long story,” I said with a sigh. “I want to hear about your week, Tom, and tell you about mine, but I’m afraid it can’t be tonight. Can I take a rain check?”
“Sure,” he said, and I suddenly heard not rain showers but an ice storm fall over the phone. “I’ll call you.”
SO I WAS stuck with an irritable Jeff that night. Heck, if he was irritable, I was utterly cantankerous.
Which didn’t bode well for a fun evening.
At least Lexie and Odin, whom we’d had to leave in the Escalade parked, supervised, and in the shade, shared enough goodwill for all of us.
We did my final pet-sitting rounds of the day, and while sitting in front of the last house on a narrow residential street I called Rachel to ensure all was well with her, too.
“That guy from Jeff’s office, Buzz, came with me, like you said,” she informed me, with a barely hidden wail in her tone. “But my dad’s really mad about all the stuff going on. He wants me to stop pet-sitting because it’s too dangerous. And since I’ve been kicked out of Methuselah Manor and don’t have any acting gigs going on . . . Oh, Kendra, what am I going to do?”
What was she going to do? What was I going to do if my star employee quit? I’m sure the look I tossed to Jeff looked horrified, since he said, “What?”
“We need to get back to my place right away.”
AT LEAST ALL the confusion kept me from having to share an intimate and uncomfortable dinner with Jeff. Instead, it was an uncomfortable dinner party that included Rachel and her dad, Russ, Buzz Dulear, Jeff, and me.
We ate alfresco, on a picnic table outside the fence around the swimming pool that I’d once adored diving into when this delightful large place was all mine. Now, I didn’t use it much since it went with the house, and I always felt I’d need to ask permission, even now, with tenants with whom I was friends.
Or had been.
I assured Russ, who’d purposefully set his muscular self beside me, that the once-missing pets were all home now.
“Does that mean you’ve caught the person who stole them? And that you can guarantee my daughter’s safety?” His green Irish eyes flashed over one of the steaks we’d grilled on the outdoor built-in barbecue that also went with the house.
“No, but we’ll catch that miserable marauder,” I assured him. “And with Buzz around, Rachel will be fine.” I hoped.
“Well, I’ll give this a few more days, and that’s all,” Russ said, his face nearly as ruddy as his red hair.
“Sure,” I said, my heart sinking. I’d already taken on a few of Tracy’s pet-sitting clients. I’d hate to have to dump them back on her and still not be able to service all of my own—an excellent possibility if I lost Rachel. Unless I gave up practicing law and went back to pet-sitting full-time.
No way. I loved them both. Needed them both to fulfill my current crazy life.
“Kendra also said she’d clear my name at Methuselah Manor,” Rachel piped eagerly from across the table. She sat beside tall, excellent-postured Buzz, who remained quietly eating as if he hadn’t indulged in days. Jeff was on my other side, also staying somewhat quiet as I thrashed things out with my tenants.
And Beggar, Lexie, and Odin? At our feet, begging as pups always do.
“I’ll try,” I agreed weakly. I figured I’d better do my tap dance there tomorrow. If I wasn’t successful, then I feared the whole house of pet-sitting cards I’d built that included my friend and protégé Rachel would start to tumble into total chaos.
JEFF AND I remained peeved with one anoth
er that night. Maybe my peeve was somewhat manufactured. I did appreciate all he’d been doing for me, even if he did prevent me from getting together with Tom that night.
Which I couldn’t have done anyway, considering the Rachel crisis brewing at home.
At least this way, while we silently stewed at one another, I didn’t have to worry about whether we’d go to bed together.
All I had to worry about, as I lay in my own bed solo, except for Lexie, was whether I should leap up, call a truce, and jump Jeff’s bones.
I fortunately forbore.
I’D LOVE TO say that everything was fixed by Monday night. But it wasn’t.
No further word on who’d stolen the returned pets, though Corina’s story again called attention to the heinous crime now that it was resolved favorably. But no one leaped out of the woodwork to confess, or to turn in a neighbor who’d been harboring some strange animals for a few days.
Nor was Nya’s murder suddenly solved, nor the attack on me.
With Jeff sometimes hovering ominously over my shoulder, I did my delightful duties as a pet-sitter. I loved the little bit of law I practiced, particularly when my self-styled bodyguard allowed me to stay at the office on my own.
Then, without telling Jeff my immediate plan, I hied myself to Methuselah—er, Medicure—Manor with Lexie. It was a three-story, homey-looking home, and I held my breath as I walked in.
The people I saw might have had some age, but they all looked well tended. And even somewhat spry. And the place even smelled good—like lemon, but not overdone.
After asking to speak to whoever was in charge, I introduced Lexie and me to the African-American headmistress, Delia Underwood. She appeared a little overwrought and flighty to be the person in charge of the care of a bevy of elders with varying needs, but what did I know? She was shorter than me, and a whole lot thinner, and I gathered that she, too, bordered on senior citizen status. Her face was wrinkly, her forehead set in a frown, and she tended to wave her hands as she spoke.
“I’ve heard you’re looking for volunteers for people to bring their dogs to help perk up the people who live here,” I said, sounding as perky as I could.
“Well . . . yes, but the last person we had who did that didn’t work out. Where did you hear about us?”
“Oh, a newspaper mention a week or two ago that requested people with pets to volunteer.” Not something I’d read, but Rachel had described it as her impetus to bring Beggar here. “Can we give it a try? Lexie just loves people.” At which cue, aided by a tiny tug on her leash, my adorable Cavalier stood on her hind legs, put her front paws on Delia’s knees, and wagged her tail enthusiastically in a request for a pat.
Delia complied, and we got our feet and paws, respectively, in the door.
Delia was too busy to act as our guide, so she introduced us to a couple of other volunteers who came almost daily to help deal with residents—feeding, washing, dressing, entertaining, and whatever was needed. Sally and Shannon were closer contemporaries to Rachel than me, and both claimed to be preparing for careers in health care.
That first visit was both delightful and depressing. Some residents were in full possession of their senses, but their bodies’ abilities were waning. Lexie immediately charmed them, allowing them to pet her as well as their limbs would allow.
Others’ minds and memories were fragile, but all appeared to appreciate cute canines. They sometimes said odd things, but all seemed charmed as well.
I was glad to leave that evening. Promised to be back the next day.
WHICH VISITS WENT on for four days.
Okay, I admit it. I used Rachel’s problems at the senior citizens’ residence as a distraction from all my own issues.
Which served to drive Jeff crazy, an added bonus.
But I informed Borden I was working on a personal issue and had to slack off my legal matters for a short while. Adorable man that he was, and so devoted to the idea that we all should love our law practices, he had no problem with my disappearing each afternoon for a couple of hours, then returning for a short while until I had to leave for my pet-sitting stuff.
During those times on hiatus from the Yurick firm, I hied Lexie and me to Methuselah Manor.
And damned if I, too, didn’t get a whole lot of satisfaction in watching the elderly residents perk up as my loving Lexie leaped up onto their laps—with my assistance, or that of my usual accompanying volunteers Shannon and Sally, after assuring those laps weren’t too fragile to accept her.
My entourage and I, including a pet-loving aide or two, usually meandered from one tiny room, each with two occupants, to the next. I especially enjoyed an elderly lady named Agnes. She was in her nineties but as spry as someone a couple decades younger, and her mind was totally with it. She appeared to be Shannon’s pet resident, too.
Then there was Bill, a boy at heart despite his aging body. He appeared to be Sally’s favorite. Delia, who came along at times, too, was most fair, not showing favoritism to any of them. Nor did she seem partial to dogs, although she was absolutely delighted to have us around to stimulate the seniors in her care.
I also especially liked—well, let’s just say there were a lot of people there whom I immediately adored. Lexie and I enjoyed entertaining all of them, as well as some of the other aides, both old and young. Unfortunately, the rest of my life sometimes interfered, and I both gave and received calls on my cell phone, but, hey, everyone appeared to understand.
Lexie and I left each day with smiles on our faces—well, Lexie’s was more a canine tongue-lolling pant, but she certainly looked happy after we both received final hugs from those whom we’d visited.
Until that Thursday. When an outcry arose in Agnes’s room not long after Lexie, Sally, and I had left. The elderly dear suddenly stood in the doorway, glaring at my dog and me. “My diamond necklace is gone,” she cried.
“My baseball autographed by the Pittsburgh Pirates, too,” shouted Bill from his door. “Someone stop those thieves!”
Chapter Twenty-four
LEXIE AND I halted immediately. “I assume you’re not accusing us,” I said swiftly.
“You were in my room,” Agnes asserted.
“Why would you have a diamond anything in a public place like this?” I asked, drawing closer to her. She hadn’t struck me as senile but I had to inquire, just in case.
“Because it’s precious to me,” she said sadly. Her wrinkle-surrounded eyes were a brilliant blue, enhanced by the sheen of tears that threatened to spill down her wizened cheeks.
“Same goes about my ball,” Bill said. “We never had any trouble here at all till we started having people with dogs come in to play with us. Do you know Rachel? She had a really nice Irish setter, but she stole from us like you.”
I gritted my teeth but forbore from defending our maligned honor. Yet. Meantime, a throng of residents and workers including volunteers and aides started to gather around.
“Actually, yes. I know Rachel. In fact—” I motioned to one of the middle-aged aides who wore a yellow uniform and white sensible shoes. “Here she is.”
The aide in question stripped off a salt-and-pepper wig to reveal Rachel’s short, sassy black mop beneath. From a pocket she pulled out a tissue and wiped some of the thick makeup from her face, immediately revealing its real youthfulness.
“Hey!” shouted Bill. “What’s she doing here?”
“Helping me unmask your thief,” I replied as Rachel withdrew, from another pocket, a teeny digital camera.
“Who did you get?” I asked her.
“Sally,” she said with a snort of disgust. “You?”
“Same goes.” I drew my handy-dandy multitalented cell phone from my pocket. “This takes photos, too. And some are bound to show Sally snitching the missing items. I shot some pictures without watching as Lexie entertained on one side of the rooms and Sally stood behind us doing whatever she did. I checked some of the photos, and a few show her rooting around in drawers while our attent
ion was diverted. How about you?”
“About the same, after I pretended to be enthralled with your entertaining but instead palmed my camera and kept pushing the button to shoot photos.”
“Hey!” Sally said. “I didn’t do anything. You’re blaming me just to hide your own stealing.” She was as falsely blond as she was an honorable volunteer at this facility. She’d claimed she’d all but decided on a career as a practical nurse.
Practical pilferer was more like it.
“You can lie all you want,” Rachel said. “Our cameras will tell the truth.”
Which was when Sally started to make a run for the door—only to be stopped by a uniformed cop.
Yes, headmistress Delia was in on our charade. She had to be, so that Rachel could use her acting and accompanying makeup skills to hang around when Lexie and I did, being our backup and co-camera person. We’d signaled Delia to call the cops as soon as we’d determined that today was the day, and the real culprit was about to be caught.
And Rachel cleared.
“I’m sorry!” Sally sobbed. I noticed she held a tote bag over her shoulder, ostensibly filled with large-print books and magazines for the sometimes myopic inmates. As she cried, the bag slipped not too surreptitiously to the floor. I’d no doubt the authorities would find inside, at a minimum, Agnes’s diamond and Bill’s ball. “Please let me go. I’ll never do it again.”
“Not here you won’t,” I said. “We have the evidence, and it’s my opinion as an attorney that charges be pressed. What if we let you go and you decide to pull this at some other unsuspecting elder-care facility? Unless you’ve a record of some kind, you’re much too likely to be allowed inside other doors.”
Okay, I’d been unjustly accused in my day of something a lot more heinous than cadging a signed baseball, or even a costly diamond. I sided with the innocent, at least till proven guilty. But this young lady had thought nothing of stealing, then allowing my own pet-sitting protégé to suffer the consequences.
The Fright of the Iguana Page 20