Double Dog Dare (24 page)

“Nope,” I said. “Most likely a nasty human or two whom I’ve somehow rubbed the wrong way, possibly in my quest for justice on Lois Terrone’s behalf.”

“Any ideas about who killed Earl Knox, if it wasn’t her?”

After this afternoon, I feared I had too many ideas in that direction, but I decided not to inform my dear friend Darryl just yet. Not till I’d had an opportunity to digest what I’d learned, mix up my suspicions, and see where it all led.

Which, unfortunately, still might not point away from the very-much-alive Jeff, wherever he happened to be just then.

“I’m working on it,” was all I said.

I saw Darryl glance often into the passenger side mirror, as if seeking someone following us. I smiled to myself— more in irony than humor. And hoped he’d see it, or I would, if someone actually was in pursuit.

After taking the 5 Freeway north, we arrived in Valencia, and I headed toward the soundstage-like edifice that housed Show Biz Beasts.

As I’d hoped, the parking lot was filled with vehicles whose drivers milled about outside.

I parked, got the dogs’ leashes, and exited the car as the small crowd approached.

I grinned at the group. “Hi, everyone. Good to see you all.” I completed whatever introductions hadn’t yet been made, including Darryl, who’d heard of them all but hadn’t necessarily met them.

Among those present was the current tenant of my rented-out mansion, Russ Preesinger, the redheaded, nice-looking guy who was dad to my Critters TLC, LLC, assistant, Rachel. Right now, I really appreciated his vocation as a location scout for a major studio. And I particularly appreciated that he’d happened to get back to town just in time for today’s activities.

Then there was his predecessor renter, Charlotte LaVerne, my very first tenant, whom I’d helped to clear from a suspicion of murder that occurred right in my own leased-out home. She squealed upon seeing me and dashed in my direction, swathing me in a huge, habitual hug. “It’s so great to see you, Kendra,” she gushed, baring her toothy, white smile. Charlotte looked the same as when she’d rented from me, with a pretty face and a long black braid down her back. As always, she appeared youthful and slim—today, in slinky, tight slacks and a top that bared her midriff. “I’m so excited about seeing this idea of yours.”

Since she was the one likely to have the most useful contacts, I hoped she would hang on to that opinion after I proposed my idea to this great group who could turn it into reality—and I did mean
reality
.

I glanced around quizzically.

“If you’re looking for Yul,” she said in a chilly voice, “he stayed in Nevada with his ferrets.” She didn’t sound extremely pleased about it. Her boy toy Yul’s ferrets had once resided in my house, too—illegally, here in California. They’d been among the murder suspects I’d succeeded in clearing.

Finally, there was Charley Sherman, a law client of Borden’s and mine who, in puffy, faded jeans and red plaid shirt, retained a resemblance to the Pillsbury Doughboy. I’d helped to negotiate a fair settlement for him in a suit that turned into a class action. He and his wife were plaintiffs who’d sought compensation after a resort up the coast made promises of luxury accommodations that were patently false. But he wasn’t here because of that. Charley was a nearly retired executive of Hennessy Studios— where he had been a trainer of exotic animals.

Soon, we all trooped inside. Shareen and Corbin Hayhurst hovered anxiously around the entry, obviously aware of the conclave in their parking lot. Their assistant and greeter, Larry, stood there, too, appearing ill at ease in his Show Biz Beasts T-shirt, with the resident dog, Dorky, on a leash.

“Did you bring in some neophyte animals the way I told you to?” I asked them.

“We sure did, Kendra,” Corbin responded.

“Good. I’ve brought a couple more.” I handed them Lexie’s and Odin’s leashes. “Here’s what I have in mind.” And I proceeded to explain to the people I’d asked to meet us here, all in different areas of the industry, my idea for a TV reality show involving animal training.

Charlotte was an alumna of a major reality show who’d gone on to excel in the industry. She was now the producer of several reality show hits. She had contacts. She had clout.

And despite the fact she wasn’t a dog lover, she sounded absolutely delighted to participate with the Hayhursts to train some untrained dogs—including my charges, since at least Lexie pretended not to remember her previous lesson—in the basics of sitting, staying, and lying down. Once they had mastered that, the idea I had was for contestants to utilize props from potentially exotic locales— like the sled dog scenario I’d seen here. That was where Russ’s contacts could come in.

And then there was the idea of using Charley’s contacts to eventually sign up each week’s contest winner for a genuine role in some upcoming TV show or film.

Everyone could profit. Everyone could win. And if these folks could put something together, that’s what the Show Biz Beasts staff could offer to their disgruntled clients as a compromise. No guarantees of getting on the show, but they could audition at the front of the line. And certainly no guarantees of winning if they got on.

Just what I especially liked: a win-win-win-win, etc., situation, potentially to an infinite number of wins.

And our small sample this afternoon, with Lexie, Odin, and the four other dogs the Hayhursts had assembled— Dorky, plus two middle-size mixed breeds and a golden retriever—made it look like one super suggestion. All six pups, put in a scenario of pretending to be service dogs for some humans who’d forgotten how to walk, did an outstanding job of finding and fetching for them on the hastily constructed pseudo set consisting of a home’s living room and kitchen. Even Lexie! Not that she’d have won the top prize in a genuine contest, but perhaps Odin would have.

I was absolutely excited and ecstatic when we were done, since the three Hollywood types were already discussing getting their people to talk with each other and with the Show Biz Beasts representatives.

“If you’d like to do any filming in a doggy day care center, or if you have animals come to visit from other locales in the future and need a place for them to hang out during the day, you have an unequaled resource right here,” I told them all, passing out some of Darryl’s Doggy Indulgence business cards.

“What about you, Kendra?” Charlotte asked. “What will your cut of this whole thing be?”

“Well, my legal fees,” I said, stealing a glance toward the Hayhursts. “And if I can get a screen credit, and some small stipend for the idea, that would be wonderful. But let’s see first if it helps to settle the pending lawsuit.”

“We’ll probably go forward even if it doesn’t,” Charley Sherman said.

“If you don’t have an agent, Kendra, I can get mine to call you,” Russ said.

“I’m an attorney,” I reminded him, then stopped. “But I don’t know a lot about negotiating this kind of contract. And then there’s the old adage, ‘The attorney who represents herself has a fool for a client.’ ”

“Good thinking,” Russ said. “I’ll give my agent a heads-up. ”

And as I retrieved Lexie and Odin, I gave them a huge grin.

I WASN’T SMILING later, though. The Show Biz Beasts situation could be progressing toward a happy ending. But it wasn’t the only scenario into which I’d stuck my nose, and the other main situation wasn’t settling down.

I’d dropped off Darryl at Doggy Indulgence and had no sooner gotten back into my car with the dogs than my cell phone rang. Caller ID revealed it was Lois Terrone.

I hadn’t spoken with her since finding out for certain that Jeff was alive. Not that I feared a skilled litigator like me might misspeak and give his secret away, but heck, I wasn’t an actress. My words might be perfect, but would my demeanor be?

And besides, I believed she deserved to be told the truth.

Turned out my lack of acting ability didn’t matter. Lois was the one who set the emotional scene for us. Hysteria shrieked out from her shrill tone. “Kendra? Thank God I reached you. I’ve been told to come back to the Glendale Police Department for further questioning this afternoon— in an hour.”

“That might be a good thing, Lois,” I lied. “If they told you to come without sending someone to bring you in, maybe they do just have additional questions. Have you called Esther Ickes?”

“Of course I’d call the lawyer I hired first, but could you come, too?”

I stared out the windshield, attempting to ignore how Lexie and Odin leaped around beside me, eager to exit the car if we didn’t get on the road.

Well, hell. Darryl’s was still open for a while. They’d have fun playing here while I headed toward Glendale.

Was I really considering showing up at the cops’ latest confrontation with Lois? Only partly. “I’ll meet you there,” I said. “Got the address?”

She gave it to me. “Thanks, Kendra. I know you have experience convincing cops about people’s innocence in murders.”

“Not because I have superior knowledge about criminal law,” I told her. “Only because some of my closest friends and I have been accused. You’re in great hands with Esther. And we can confer ahead of time. Maybe discuss some potential exonerating scenarios that Esther and you can suggest. Or if nothing else, come up with the best defense.”

“I shouldn’t need a defense,” Lois wailed.

“Unfortunately, you may,” I said. “I’ll meet you outside the police station in about forty-five minutes, okay?”

“Okay,” she said with a sniffle.

I walked the dogs right back inside Doggy Indulgence, where Darryl indulgently said, “You just can’t stay away, can you, Kendra?”

“Lexie and Odin can’t. I’ve got someplace I need to be fairly shortly.” When he opened his mouth as if to ask a question, I headed him off by saying, “I’ll fill you in later.” And then I hurried out.

Once again I sat in my rental car without driving. I needed to make a phone call. Unfortunately, I didn’t have Jeff’s current number—one he would actually answer. I’d failed to save it when it was captured on my cell phone. And so, I used what resources I could to track him down.

“Hi, Rachel,” I said to my pet-sitting assistant. “Do you happen to have a card from What’s the Scoop? I need their phone number.”

“Right now?” she said. “It’s probably buried at the bottom of my purse, and I’m in line at a Starbucks.”

“What better time to dig for a card?” I inquired, unsure about any rationale for her hesitation.

“I’m right by the CBS Studios, talking to a sexy guy who works there,” she hissed almost inaudibly into my ear. In other words, I’d interrupted a potentially important flirtation.

Well, tough. Still, I needed her continued cooperation in many things. And so I said, “Show him how important you are. Say I’m your agent, and I need you to provide a phone number for someone you recently auditioned with from a card you’re carrying.”

“Oh, right,” she said a lot louder and much more happily. “Great idea. And they’re interested in calling me back? Then how could you lose their number?” She soon rattled off a phone number in the 818 area code—San Fernando Valley and vicinity—that I assumed was the right one for the poop-scooping and snooping associates.

“Thanks, Rachel,” I said. “I owe you.”

“You certainly do,” she said sweetly, and we both hung up.

The next conversation was almost as odd as that one.

“What’s the Scoop,” answered a familiar, but obviously disguised, male voice. It was higher, with a hint of an indistinguishable accent.

“Mr. Scoop . . . er, Juan,” I started, unsure how to address this alternate version of Jeff, especially since my insides somersaulted just because he was alive and I was talking to him again. Or because I despised him for distrusting me? Probably a bit of both. “I have a situation that might require your services,” I said. “A good friend of mine suggested that the area around the Glendale Police Department needs a good cleaning.” Was that too oblique? Too obtuse? But I knew Jeff in his former incarnation, pre-drugging and near drowning, would have gotten it.

“I see,” he said quickly. “And how soon do you need my services?”

“Right away,” I said.

“Got it.” And he hung up.

I FELT UNEASY on the entire drive to Glendale. Not that I noticed any hybrid cars, or any other kind of vehicle, subtle or not, stalking me. But I knew that the reason Jeff acted as he did on the cell phone was that he was unsure if we were being monitored. And since his company phone number and cell phone were new, that meant the person being eavesdropped on would be me.

Could my cell phone be bugged? But how? I never left it far from my person, just in my purse, which was substantial enough in size to be obvious if anyone messed with it.

My car, then? This wasn’t my very own bashed Beamer, which I felt almost sorrowfully certain by now was going to be proclaimed a total loss by the auto shop where it had been towed after my non-accident several weeks ago. It was unlikely that the rental car company placed conversation monitors in its vehicles. GPS systems to track them if stolen, perhaps, but bugging their products didn’t seem like a good business practice.

Or maybe there wasn’t an actual bug anywhere, but Jeff was still being exceedingly cautious, aka paranoid. Which made me want to strangle him. And soothe him—not to mention myself.

In any event, I didn’t shout any of my suspicions or anything else into my empty car as I drove to Glendale. There, I parked at a meter on the street, being careful to feed it enough since I was alongside the home of the local police.

Wow! Jeff was fast. By the time I arrived, my fallen, frustrating hero was already there, in his little-old-man-in-a -big-hat disguise, treading slowly, while stooped, along the little bit of lawn near the substantial bureaucratic-style building of the Glendale Police Department. It appeared more elaborate than some of the LAPD edifices I’d seen, larger and with a lot more style. One side was decorated with long, narrow windows. The entry area, not far from Jeff’s lawn patrol, had a metallic sculpture sort of thing adorning it, and three flags flapped on the nearby poles: the country’s, the state’s, and, gosh darn if the City of Glendale didn’t have its own official banner!