I glanced at Pete. He was grinning, too, the louse. He found this amusing.
“I honestly don’t know yet. Mamie’s not off my list, and I’ve barely scratched the surface of looking at other possibilities. But I’m really hoping to find the truth.”
“Before the cops do?”
“If they do.”
“Well, just remember the thing you learned the last time you got involved in an investigation that shouldn’t have been your problem.”
“It was my problem. The cops suspected me.”
“Whatever.”
“And what do you think I learned?”
“That you can’t ever cross the least likely suspect off your list.”
Of course I didn’t know who the least likely suspect was. I pondered that as Pete drove us all to HotRescues. I wasn’t certain who the most likely suspect was, either. Mamie, I supposed.
Pete and I discussed the care of these new residents, how long they’d be in quarantine, and the likelihood of when, and if, we’d get more of the hoarded pets to take care of. The discussion occupied my mind during most of the drive.
I also had no time to think more about suspects when we reached the parking lot. Dante DeFrancisco’s car, a late-model silver Mercedes, was parked there. Why had he come? He hadn’t called first—or at least he hadn’t spoken to me.
No need for me to get all angsty. It could just be a social visit. Or, he might be here to check out where all his money was going, since he largely funded HotRescues. And the purchase of the adjoining property and the construction going on there . . .
That had to be why he was here—to check on the progress of the new building.
Turned out that was correct. Nina, in the welcome area, told me that Dante had stopped in, said hi, then went next door to examine the work.
I’d sent some volunteers to help Pete bring our new residents inside to the quarantine area. I was free to rush over to say hi to Dante.
I heard voices as I slipped through the gate dividing the two properties. Sure enough, one was Dante’s.
He was dressed in a crisp blue shirt and black trousers, which told me he’d come from his office and had doffed the jacket and tie from his suit. Dante was a tall, good-looking guy with dark hair and a darker expression if people crossed him. Which I never did if I could avoid it. I might be in charge here when it came to everyone else, but Dante, our chief benefactor and chairman of our board of directors, was my boss. Period.
He now seemed engrossed in conversation with Halbert, the chief construction contractor for the new building. Big contrast there. Halbert wore jeans and a ratty blue T-shirt. But Dante wasn’t wielding a hammer that day, far as I knew. Halbert probably was—or at least holding one over the heads of his employees charged with finishing the building as quickly as possible.
I strode toward them. “Hi, Dante and Halbert,” I said cheerfully. “How are things going with our new building?” Like, had Dante made it clear exactly how much longer Halbert and company had to finish up?
“Fine, Lauren,” Halbert said. “I was just telling Dante that we’re pretty much done with the exterior, and a lot of the interior, too.”
Amazing! They’d only started a few weeks ago. But Dante’s money obviously dictated their speed.
“Want to join us on a tour?” Dante asked.
“Absolutely!”
It really was amazing. The building had a lot of similar amenities to our current central building. The offices upstairs were nearly complete except for details like painting walls and finishing floors. Downstairs, the kitchen and areas to house toy dogs, cats, and other small animals were still mostly just framed in so far.
I especially liked, upstairs, the balconies we’d added into the architectural detailing. That way, we could bring some cats outside in crates to get them fresh air. Smaller dogs, too, when they weren’t being walked. It would be easier on the wide patio areas, even lugging them up the steps, than it would be to take them outside to our park a couple of times a day.
There were belt-and-suspender safety measures as well, including folding screens that could be secured to ensure that, even if any animals got out, they’d be confined on the balconies till someone came to put them back. The screens were still boxed, though—not yet installed.
The place looked wonderful. But I didn’t offer an opinion until Dante, too, gave a verbal pat on the back to Halbert. “Good job. Just step it up a little, will you? I want you to get to the remodeling of the existing central building on the other property as soon as possible.”
“Sure thing, Dante,” Halbert said.
We returned downstairs. “Do you have a few minutes?” Dante asked as we headed to the main HotRescues facility.
“Sure.”
We talked over the hoarding situation. He didn’t seem upset that I was in the news because of coordinating private facilities to take in the hoarding victims that Animal Services gave up. “I want to meet your three new residents,” he said. I led him toward the quarantine area, on one side of the downstairs area of the central building, far from where toy dogs and cats were currently housed. I assumed that Pete and the volunteers would have situated them there already, which they had.
Dante was one really nice guy, not only because he gave us all the money we needed to keep HotRescues going, but also because he genuinely loved animals. He opened their enclosures. While petting them, he talked fondly to our new rescuees, welcoming them as much as if I were the one speaking to them.
In a few minutes, he secured the locks again, used the hand sanitizer we always kept in the area, and turned toward me. “I’ve got an idea to take advantage of the publicity you’re getting for bringing these guys to HotRescues. How about a fund-raiser—not that we need a few extra bucks, but that kind of thing often brings people in—where the public will be invited to come in, meet our residents, and maybe see some kind of show.”
“Show?”
“I don’t know—do you have a new trainer yet who can perform something with some of the dogs?”
“I’m just hiring someone, but it’s premature to have him show off our current residents.”
“Well . . . Think about it. Maybe there’s some other kind of event we can hold. We’ll give out free food for pets. People can pay for theirs, but I’ll donate the proceeds. We’ll also give special prizes to those who decide that day to adopt a pet—as long as they meet with your approval, of course.”
“Of course.” His tone was teasing, but I knew he liked my attitude—and wouldn’t have left me in charge here if I’d done things much differently.
“Anyhow, I’d like to have something going on here that’ll attract as many people as possible.”
I smiled. “Love the concept. Let me think about possibilities.” Something had just crossed my mind, but I wasn’t sure whether it would work—or even be a good idea.
I’d have to ask Matt.
We went out the back entrance and took our time before heading back to the main building. Dante knew Pete and some of the long-time volunteers, like Bev.
Ricki was there, too. Her veterinary tech school would not start until fall, and the recent college graduate was spending more time at HotRescues for the summer. Wanting to branch out from just walking and cleaning up after animals, she was brushing teeth, grooming, and performing basic health assessments in anticipation of her soon-to-be new career.
Dante and she greeted each other and started talking about a new line of dog food Dante had recently begun to stock at HotPets stores. We all slowly walked by the outside enclosures where our middle- and large-sized dogs were housed. A few barked greetings, which started others responding. Noisy, yes, but usual. And heartening. All our charges were healthy and normal.
Eventually we reached the welcome area. I heard voices from inside and hoped that Nina was speaking with some possible adopters. I always liked to impress Dante that way, although he knew how successful we were. I sent him reports weekly in addition to those we disc
ussed at monthly board meetings.
I was surprised, though, to see that the person standing at the tall reception desk facing Nina behind it, and barely able to see over it, was Mamie.
Nina caught my eye, and her expression was a combination of irritation and frustration. Mamie must have noticed it, because she turned. She appeared upset, until she saw it was me.
She hobbled over, threw herself into my arms, and said, “Lauren. I did it. I made it over the hill without driving on the freeway. I heard that you have some of my babies here now, and I want to see them.”
“Okay, Mamie. But you—”
“And now that I know I can get here by myself, even though it takes forever—Lauren, I want you to give me a job.”
Chapter 17
Okay, what should I do now? A confirmed hoarder who undoubtedly loved animals—and just might be a peoplemurderer—had just asked me for a job.
At least she’d come here at a reasonable time during the day to make this pronouncement—rather than early in the morning, as she had done the day Bethany had been murdered.
Yes, she had been stable enough to give up the hoarded animals for their sakes, and for her own. And, I wanted to help Mamie. To clear her name, if it turned out she hadn’t been the one to kill Bethany.
But have her here? Around all the creatures I love, when she was definitely someone who’d abused pets in her care . . . intentionally or not?
I glanced at Dante. He stood behind me, arms crossed, looking amused. With his eyebrows raised that way, he also appeared as if he wanted to know how I’d handle the situation.
So did I.
Of course Dante had met Mamie before, when she had interviewed for running HotRescues. She looked different now, but I was certain he knew who she was—if for no other reason than her picture had been on the news a lot lately.
“Let’s talk about this,” I said to Mamie. I turned my gaze on Nina at the other side of the counter—entreating her nonverbally to find me a distraction—then back on Mamie. Mamie was smiling, but her gaze looked challenging, as if daring me to say no. What would she do then?
I heard a “woof” from down the hall. The distraction I needed! Nina had shut Zoey into my office while I was gone, and I hadn’t let her out yet. I’d wanted to take the tour of the site next door without bringing her. Now, I wanted to hug her. Of course, I always wanted to hug her.
“Tell you what, Mamie. That’s my dog, Zoey, calling me. Why don’t you come along on a quick walk, and we’ll discuss whether it’s a good idea for you to make a commitment now to work here.”
“Okay.” She didn’t follow me, though. I turned back to see her standing in front of Dante. “Hello, Dante. Remember me?”
“Yes, I do, Mamie.” He held out his hand formally, for a shake.
She complied, but her hesitation suggested it was an effort to touch him. With dignity, she said, “I know things don’t look good for me now, but I love animals. I’d have been a real asset here if you’d chosen me to run HotRescues. I really . . . Well, since you didn’t, maybe you could convince Lauren to hire me now.”
“We’ll see,” he said. “Lauren and I can talk about it.” He shifted his gaze toward me.
“You’ll say no.” Mamie sighed. “But I’m not a hoarder, wouldn’t have looked like one if . . . I can show you here, I promise. It’s so lonely at home—my shelter—without any of my babies around. Someone who didn’t know what happened tried to do an owner relinquishment yesterday, and I was so tempted . . . but until I know I won’t get arrested for killing Bethany—which I didn’t do—I can’t try to get my shelter back.”
“Mamie, you know you’re still subject to prosecution for animal abuse,” I said gently. “You can’t even think about starting your shelter again. Not now. Maybe not ever.”
“No babies, no fur babies either . . .” She stopped and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were wet and mournful. “Please, Lauren, let me work here. I can’t be alone.”
I wasn’t sure I understood all she’d said, and I absolutely felt sorry for her. But this wasn’t a good time for her to start working, or even volunteering, here. Not until all the issues surrounding her were resolved—if they ever were.
“We’ll talk about it,” I said, repeating Dante’s comment. “Right now, let’s go walk Zoey.”
We soon passed through the welcome area again, with Zoey prancing beside me. Dante was still there, talking to Nina. “I’ll be taking off now, Lauren,” he said. “Let me know your ideas for some kind of event here.” He smiled at Mamie. “I hope everything works out well for you.”
“Thanks,” she replied in a tone that suggested she wasn’t optimistic.
He exited through the door to the parking lot. I gestured for Mamie to join Zoey and me as we headed for the nearby door to the shelter area.
My old mentor oohed and aahed over each of the residents as we passed their enclosures, including Babydoll, Dodi, and Hannibal. She reached in to pet them, and every one of them closed their eyes in apparent ecstasy at her touch.
She’d always had a way with animals . . . until she wound up abusing them with her love.
Zoey danced at my side until we reached the visitors’ park at the far end of the rear storage shed. There, she fulfilled her restroom duties, and I used one of our recyclable bags to pick it up.
“Good dog.” Mamie patted her again, too.
I knew how lonely she was, and how the absence of pets around was hurting her. Even so . . .
I waved her to a seat at a picnic table where our visitors could sit and watch their prospective new pets romp and play and, with luck, win their hearts. Mamie sat down across the table, looking at me expectantly.
“Mamie,” I said, “I don’t think it’s wise for you to commit to be here any particular days or hours, but you’re welcome to visit, and to help us take care of our residents, whenever you’re able. I have a budget for regular employees, though, and don’t think I can hire you under these circumstances, but—” Okay, I might be able to squeeze a small hourly rate out of our funds, thanks to Dante’s largesse. But I wanted to see how things worked out first.
Things like how often Mamie would actually show up. And whether she was about to be arrested.
“But I can come here to help? Whenever I want?” She sounded thrilled. “And I can pet the dogs, and hug the cats, and there’ll be plenty of food for them, and—”
She looked almost childlike in her glee, clapping her hands enough that some of the dogs nearest us started to bark.
I laughed. “Yes to all of that.” I had to ask, though. “You do collect Social Security, don’t you? I mean, you have enough money on your own to survive, right?” Otherwise, I’d rethink everything.
“Of course, dear. It’s enough for me. I just couldn’t stretch it enough to make sure that all my sweet rescues had enough to eat. That’s part of what led to my difficulties. That, and not many donations. But you don’t have that kind of problem, do you?” Her gaze turned shrewd. “Not with Dante’s money.”
“No, thank heavens.” Was she blaming me again for her problems? Or just reminding me?
“Oh, coming here often—it’s wonderful! Thank you, Lauren.” The shrewdness left her face, and her eyes, among all the surrounding wrinkles, seemed to glow.
All right. Maybe she had no hidden agenda. And I had planned to keep an eye on her anyway. This could be a good idea. Maybe.
“Don’t thank me yet,” I said. What she’d said earlier kept circling through my mind, and I had to ask. “What did you mean before by, ‘no babies, no fur babies either’?”
“I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I was hoping to make you feel sorry for me, but . . . did I tell you, back when you helped me at my shelter, about my failed marriage?”
I shook my head. I also held my breath. I’d heard that when people became hoarders, it was sometimes the result of a highly emotional event in their lives. I’d assumed, if that was true with Mamie, it was because she
hadn’t been chosen by Dante to run HotRescues. She had apparently started bringing in more animals to her shelter after that. But maybe it wasn’t the only reason. And maybe I’d had nothing to do with it. Or at least not much.
“It wasn’t too long before I met you.” She tried to keep her tone casual, but her voice hitched and I knew it was something that had affected her significantly. “I’d had two miscarriages and was told I probably couldn’t carry a baby to term. My husband and I had been married for a few years, and I started talking adoption. That’s when he told me he was divorcing me to marry a woman he’d been sleeping with. She was pregnant. She didn’t miscarry.” Mamie’s laugh was forced. “I didn’t care about him after that. But I had a lot of love to give somewhere. That’s when I really started concentrating on pet rescue.”
“I’m so sorry, Mamie,” I said.
“I’m not. Or at least I won’t be, when I can start taking in my own fur babies again.”
I didn’t reiterate that her wish might be impossible. I understood that the recidivism rate for hoarders was astronomical. To avoid being prosecuted for animal cruelty, she and her lawyer might have to cut a deal in which she’d promise never to take in any animals, or maybe she’d be allowed just one or two.
“Well, we’ll have to see how things go. Did they recommend that you see a counselor when you were at the facility where the police had you checked out?”
“Yes, and I’ll be seeing her, about once a week. When I can.”
Which made me think she wasn’t seeing the therapist at all.
“But I promise, I won’t even think about taking in animals—well, I’ll think but I won’t do it—till things are resolved about Bethany’s death. And as long as I can come here to hug your pets.” She bent to pat Zoey, then looked up at me once more. “Are you going to find out who killed Bethany, Lauren? I swear it wasn’t me.”
The More the Terrier Page 13