Feline Fatale (21 page)

“Absolutely,” she said. “I can’t forget anything about that evening. It was one of the times Lady Cuddles had gotten out of here, and I was hunting for her. I found her.” Wanda shuddered. “I also found Margaret Shiler’s body. Of course I told you about that,” she said to the Gustins, “since the reason I was even in her unit was because the door was open and I was afraid Lady Cuddles had gotten inside. Which she had, the poor thing.”

The Gustins were suddenly close together, looking sad and solemn and supportive of one another, which was sweet. They, unlike almost everyone else in the complex, weren’t on my suspect list. Far as I knew, they had indeed been on their extended trip to Hawaii when Margaret was killed.

“I’m just glad she was okay,” Trudy said. “She might have seen the killer, right?”

Wanda nodded. “As I told you on the phone, she seemed freaked out. Even scratched me a little when I picked her up. I had to leave her for a while when the police came, since I was supposed to keep the crime scene just as it was when I entered.”

“My poor baby,” Trudy said.

Said baby seemed to snuggle even closer into Trudy’s arms, as if she understood the conversation, the cute kitten.

“But when you first walked in, saw Margaret, and found Lady Cuddles in her unit,” I prompted, “was Lady Cuddles wearing her collar then?”

“No, that’s what I meant, Kendra. I won’t forget anything about that night. That’s the first I noticed that the collar and name tag were missing.”

“Did you tell the police?” I asked.

“Sure, when they questioned me that night—not that they seemed impressed. I can’t imagine it had anything to do with what happened to Margaret, either.” She looked earnestly toward Trudy. “But I do feel responsible that it was missing. I’m still looking for it, and I’ve asked around the condos, too. No one seems to have seen it. I even asked Detective Melamed again yesterday if they happened to find the collar and name tag in the unit when they investigated the crime scene. She looked at me like I was crazy for asking anything about their investigation.”

“Did she happen to answer?” I inquired.

Wanda shrugged. “No, and I got the sense that she thought I was insulting her by suggesting she hadn’t done a thorough search of Margaret’s unit.”

Had she, and had the crime scene techs?

The idea niggling at the edges of my brain was now swirling full-force through my consciousness.

It might be utterly asinine, and get me nowhere because the doggy sense inside me was barking up an absolutely wrong tree.

But I’d never know unless I tried.

 

WE SOON LEFT the Gustins’ unit. Wanda had animals in other units to check on before heading out to see more pet-sitting clients, and I needed to get on with my critter visits, too.

I stopped at her unit, said ’bye to Darryl and Basil, and picked up Lexie.

Wanda accompanied us out. As we walked, with Lexie on the leash at my side, I got further input from Wanda about what the police had actually asked her. She’d shown she was attempting to cooperate by answering as well as she could, not simply clamming up because her counsel was present.

“Esther encouraged me, though I know she was worried about what I might inadvertently say that could hurt me.”

“What all did they go over?”

“Same as before. They wanted my time line, what I’d done before, why I happened to go into Margaret’s unit, how Margaret and I got along, and why we weren’t best buddies. They didn’t get into pushing me harder for a confession, so I assume they were still fishing for inconsistencies. I don’t think I gave them any, at least none of significance.”

“Did Esther tell you afterward that anything seemed off to her?” We’d reached my Escape, and I encouraged Lexie to get in the backseat.

Wanda shook her head, her pretty face looking utterly downcast. “But I’m getting so frazzled by all this, Kendra, I’m liable to turn everything upside down if they question me again. They’ll think that’s a sign of guilt, not nervousness. And Darryl—well, he’s been such wonderful support. But our relationship’s so new . . . I’m afraid of what the stress will do to it. That’s why I wanted to talk to you alone, not in front of him. Give him time to think of something else for a few minutes.”

“Darryl’s a special guy,” I assured her, but she already knew that. “He’ll be there for you.”

I hoped. My own experience with men hadn’t been so wonderful. But then the men I’d fallen for weren’t as steadfast as my fast friend Darryl. Or at least the way he used to be toward me.

“One final question, then I’ve got to go,” I told her. “Lady Cuddles’s collar and name tag. I gather the cops either aren’t attaching any significance to their disappearance, or they’re not letting you in on it. Do you recall any reaction at all when you brought them up?”

“Well . . . in some ways that Detective Melamed reacted less to it than to anything else I said.”

Which could mean she was hiding what she really thought.

“I can’t promise anything,” I told Wanda, “but I’ve an idea that just might help us find who killed Margaret.”

ON MY WAY to my next pet-sitting place, I got a call. “Hi, Kendra,” said Althea’s familiar voice. “I’ve found some stuff for you.”

“On Kiki?” I inquired, stopping at a red light. I glanced into my rearview mirror and saw that Lexie was lying down. Evidently her stay with Basil had worn her out—not a bad thing.

“That’s Kiona Kistner to you.”

“No kidding? That’s her real name?” The light turned green, and the Escape headed forward, with my assistance. Only a few more blocks, and we’d be in the Encino residential area that was our goal.

“Assuming she’s the employee of Doggy Indulgence Day Resort, and she’s also an actress represented by the Imminent Stars Film Agency, that’s her.”

“I don’t know the name of her agent, or even if she has one, but I know she’s a wannabe actress. And, yes, she unfortunately works for Doggy Indulgence. So . . . I guess she is—what was it?”

“Kiona Kistner. I’ve got a bunch of additional info on her for you—address, phone number, and all of that—the easy stuff to find, and even more, though I don’t think you need her Social Security number. But there’s something else.”

I was always curious about how Althea made finding anything on anyone so easy. Superhacker? Sure, but I suspected there were some resources available to those in the security industry that, if the rest of us knew the extent of the supposedly private info they could access, we’d feel far from secure.

“Like what else?” I asked her.

“She’s been talking to some real estate agents in the Valley about a commercial site.”

“Interesting.” I drew out the word, wondering what the woman was up to. And why it caused her to resent Wanda’s getting close to Darryl. I still wasn’t sure if she had any romantic interest in my good friend. “What kinds of property is she looking at?”

“Still checking, but it seems to be storefront property in visible locations.”

I’d reached the curb outside the home of Mountie, a Greater Swiss Mountain dog who’d been my client for a while. I especially liked Mountie because his coloration was similar to Lexie’s—black and white with auburn trim—but he was a whole lot bigger. Fortunately, he was a sweetie, so I intended to bring Lexie in while I tended to and played with him.

I waited for a minute, though, since I was still speaking with Althea. “Kiki—Kiona—wants to open a store?”

“Unfortunately,” said Althea in one of her driest tones, “even my best research doesn’t give up what’s in someone’s mind, unless they’ve conveyed the information in a manner I can find.”

Something I’d have to check into. Did it have something to do with Kiki’s recent snit, her obvious irritation with Wanda, her fear I’d found out something about her—and the seed she’d planted in my mind about possibly being so riled that she’d even considered killing a person Wanda didn’t get along with, like Margaret, to frame her for it?

Far-fetched? Yes, but feasible.

“Thanks, Althea,” I finally said. “As always, I owe you.” I cringed slightly, awaiting her usual fee these days: insisting that I get together with her boss, Jeff Hubbard, for a meal, in case seeing him again made me yearn for the old days when he and I were an item. She wasn’t the one necessarily exacting that payment. I knew that Jeff had told her to insist on it. Even if he was out of town, I might still be obligated on his return.

“Yep, you do,” she said—but she didn’t add a demand on Jeff’s part.

I wondered why.

“Bye, Kendra,” she finished, and was first to hang up.

Leaving my curiosity hanging. But Lexie and I needed to go in to see Mountie, so I didn’t worry about it . . . much.

 

AFTER FINISHING OUR sitting, standing, walking, and playing with the rest of my pet charges for the day, Lexie and I headed somewhere I’d visited only infrequently: Dante’s corporate headquarters in Beverly Hills.

I needed something from him. Mostly information this time, but I figured he, or his company, would be the perfect source.

So what if it was Saturday afternoon? That’s where he was. I called from my car, just in case, and he confirmed his official location.

“Any of your staff around, too?” I inquired as I entered a ramp onto the San Diego Freeway heading south.

“A few. I cracked my whip a couple of times, so those wanting to get furthest in the company decided to drop in to humor me.” His tone made it evident that he was attempting to be funny, not some hard-hearted executive who expected his peons to be at his beck and call at every moment.

In his retail business, I knew it wasn’t unusual for employees to be busy on weekends. He’d even confirmed it. On the other hand, I was talking about the main office, not a store that the public would soon stop patronizing if its hours weren’t convenient.

In any event, Lexie and I soon arrived at his building, parked in the nearly empty underground garage, and headed up on the elevator. In the lobby, I was quickly permitted in by the security guard, whom I’d met before and who expected me. Lexie and I headed for the next bank of elevators and were soon at the door to the headquarters of HotPets.

I pushed the button on the security system outside and gave my name when someone responded. A guy I hadn’t met before immediately opened the door. He was young and smiling, dressed in a white shirt and black slacks despite this being a weekend, and all but bowed to me. “Kendra? I’m Stan. Dante told me to let you in. Can I get you coffee? What a cute dog. Can I get her a biscuit? Some water?” I figured he’d go far in the HotPets organization, assuming no one despised him for trying too hard.

I said yes to everything offered, then let him usher me to the office I knew was Dante’s.

Unsurprisingly, the gorgeous guy was inside. Also unsurprisingly, he was on the phone. He smiled as I entered and waved his hand toward an antique chair facing his elegant desk.

I glanced around the room before obeying, in case he happened to have some suppliers’ catalogs on the polished wooden shelves along one wall. That would probably have been too tacky, though—or more in the realm of some underling purchasing agent. Instead, there were framed photos of lots of HotPets stores, most likely taken on their opening days.

Then I took a seat, and Lexie lay down on the floor beside me.

I blatantly eavesdropped, but the conversation wasn’t especially interesting. I gathered that Dante was talking to the manager of an Arizona store about a complaint the company had received. He clearly wasn’t pleased, but kept his cool while saying firmly that a dissatisfied customer was unacceptable. The manager needed to check into the situation, fix it if possible, and report back either way.

He hung up his landline and looked at me with those deep, dark, delectable eyes. “This is a pleasant surprise, Kendra.”

“I called first,” I reminded him.

“Sure, but that was the surprise—that you wanted to get together this afternoon.”

“Right now, it’s business,” I informed him. “Later, though . . . well, I wouldn’t mind a little pleasure.”

I felt myself flush at his sexy smile. “Same here. Okay, let’s get the business out of the way.”

“You came through before, when I needed some specific animal gear to help solve a murder,” I told him.

“This is about the Margaret Shiler situation.” That wasn’t a question but a statement.

“That’s right.”

He shook his head slowly, his lips folding into a straight line that I wanted to kiss to unravel. Or to kiss just because they were there and attracting me. The rest of his chiseled features seemed almost to freeze while he clearly weighed his words. “Kendra, I care for you because of who you are. Everything about you. But I worry about you when you’re out solving murders as a sideline. I know you’ve even helped absolve me. But—”

“But you’re going to tell me again to butt out this time.”

“Exactly.”

“You also know what I’m going to say.”

This time those lips pursed ruefully. “You’ll tell me to do the same.”

My turn to smile.

“You know I was in a dangerous game in the past,” he said, “and I got out. I knew how to handle myself, and it still became too hot for me. Some day . . .” He stood and approached me around his desk. Lexie sat up and watched him.

Me, too.

“The thing is,” he continued, “now that I love you, I want to take care of you. I hate the idea that you might get hurt.”

I stood, and was soon in his arms. “I appreciate that, Dante,” I told him. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

“So did . . .” He stopped speaking.

“The woman you cared about who got into a car accident? ”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not her, Dante. And this is a very different situation. I’ll be fine.” Interesting that he’d alluded to her. Kinda supported my theory of the timing of his concern. Was it due to his own now-healed injury? Because his feelings for me were growing?