Howl Deadly (18 page)

As Lexie leaped in joy to have us back with her in the kitchen, I said to Warren, “You know, in a way you were right in the first place. I wanted to find out how you’d gotten charge of the mama wolf and confirm you didn’t take her back. With all your charges here, well—”

“I didn’t take her back!” He stood beside me, and his infuriated glare made me uneasy. “I wouldn’t. I care too much about her offspring, let alone—”

“I get it,” I said as I slipped a few feet sideways. I believed—maybe—that his indignation was genuine instead of a reflex of guilty defensiveness. In fact, he looked a little sheepish as he settled back down on a kitchen chair.

But I wasn’t through with him. “And I also wanted your opinion of Jon Doe. And to learn all I could, so I could eliminate you from the list of possible suspects.”

Warren rose again, slowly. “Thanks for being honest.” His tone indicated that he struggled this time to maintain his cool. “I didn’t really know him. Sure, with my interest in animals, I visit HotWildlife a lot. Even bought a membership, and I contribute what additional money I can—not, of course, on the scale of that Dante DeFrancisco. He’s your friend, so I won’t say anything against him. But the guy is a control freak.”

I opened my mouth to point out the discrepancy.

But he clearly knew what I was about to say. The catch in his voice was replaced by a laugh. “Okay, I did say something against him. Anyway, I didn’t know Jon Doe well, but I saw him around a lot during the past few months. Far as I could tell, he stayed in the background, caring for the animals. Seemed to do a good job. I had no reason to dislike him, let alone kill him.”

Lexie and I left shortly thereafter. Was I certain about eliminating Warren Beell from my suspect list? No. But I sure liked the guy more now than after the first couple of times I’d seen him at HotWildlife.

How could I not at least have some affinity for a man who clearly cared as much about animals as he did?

Only . . . well, what if he had, despite what he’d said, seen something indicating that Jon Doe wasn’t as nice to the animals in the sanctuary as he should have been?

Warren Beell had shown a hint of temper when I’d suggested I’d considered him as mama wolf’s abductor and, maybe, as having had something to do with Doe’s death. He’d certainly shown his temper about Megan’s earlier questioning of him. Had Doe done the same: Pressed him so he’d resorted to murder?

Maybe.

 

 

SO WHERE DID we head next? HotWildlife, of course.

On the way, my cell phone rang. Despite the hands-free stuff, I checked caller ID.

Dante.

Well, he wouldn’t know I’d disobeyed his direct orders and come here without him, would he? I didn’t imagine Warren Beell would have called about my visit. And unless he’d put some kind of tracking device in my Escape . . .

Heck, that whole concept about any covert government stuff he might have done in his early days was getting to me.

Even so, I decided to let him leave a message. That’s not like me. I hate not to respond to a call that is coming in.

But at the moment, that simply seemed the best idea.

I soon pulled into the parking lot at the sanctuary. The volunteer at the gate recognized me, and I assured her that I’d leave Lexie in the front office if I went wandering.

But my real intent wasn’t to enjoy myself by watching the animal inhabitants.

I intended to talk to Megan. Although, of course, I realized she might be unavailable. I purposely hadn’t called to arrange a meeting, partly because she might mention it to Dante.

I also thought that making this conversation impromptu might be best. Responses to the topics I wanted to deal with would be less likely to be planned and more likely to be the truth.

“Kendra, hi,” Megan said immediately as I walked through the door of the building where her office was located. “And Lexie. What brings you here?”

“Wolf pups, for one thing,” I said. “And also I wanted to talk to you about a conversation I just had.” Bringing up Warren Beell and his single-handed saving of a few wild animals would be a good way to segue into any inquiries about Megan’s relationship with her staff . . . including Jon Doe. Or so I hoped.

“Sure. I was just about to take my late-morning stroll around the place. Would you like to come?”

I wanted to, as much to stay at Megan’s side as to see the animals. However . . . “I’d love to, if it’s okay to leave Lexie here.”

“Of course. She can stay in my office, and I’ll make sure one of my assistants checks on her every few minutes.”

Lexie didn’t seem to like the idea much, but we left her there anyway, after I gave her a reassuring hug and told her I’d be back soon.

We headed first toward the infirmary, where we peeked in on the wolflets. They were sleeping behind the glass of their airy enclosure, and didn’t stir.

I waited till we were outside again before my usual oohing and aahing, since I didn’t want to disturb the sleeping pups. “They’re so adorable,” I gushed, and Megan agreed. “It’s such a good thing that they’re here, so they can have constant care. I’m really glad that Warren didn’t try to handle the pregnant wolf himself.”

“Yeah, I’ve looked into the guy a little more,” Megan said. “He visits here frequently, but I didn’t know at first that he also does his own rescues of some wild animals.” She sounded mightily displeased.

“I just learned that, too,” I admitted. “I visited him at home to try to get a better feel for whether he might have taken back the mama and be hiding her.”

We were outside the first outdoor habitat. Megan stopped dead in front of me and stared. Her golden brown eyes were huge, and she looked almost like a feral feline as she frowned. “You went to Warren Beell’s place alone? Kendra, I’d gotten the impression that you’re one smart and savvy lady. But you saw him here yelling at me. The guy’s got a temper. He could have hurt you—or worse.”

I felt justifiably chastised. Yes, I’d thought of that, and I’d told Rachel where I was going, so if anything had happened to me, word would have gotten out. But that could, of course, have been after the fact, which might not have done me a hell of a lot of good.

“You’re right,” I said solemnly. “It wasn’t my smartest move. But he seemed much milder on his home turf—most of the time. And he genuinely seems to care about animals. He may have been mad at you out of fear for the missing wolf.”

“Which we all feel,” Megan said, out of my face and once more starting to stroll. “At least I’m fairly convinced Beell didn’t take her back. Right?”

“I honestly don’t think so. There wasn’t room in his yard, and he convinced me pretty much of his concern for her.”

“And what about . . . well, he was here the day Jon Doe was killed.” Megan’s tone was stony. “Did he know him?”

“Hey, that’s exactly what I was going to ask you.

He claimed he knew him mostly by sight, from his visits here. Do you recall anything that might suggest otherwise?”

Megan seemed to hesitate just as we got to the liger enclosure. The wonderful mix-breed feline, lying on the ground beyond the moat, stopped grooming her huge paw. She stared back at us with eyes that, from this distance, sure enough suggested that Megan was a relation.

The sanctuary director stared at her sort-of look-alike as she spoke. “I’ve thought long and hard about this, Kendra. I have some ideas about who might have hurt Jon, but they’re mostly niggles brought about by feelings instead of any actual evidence I could give to the authorities.”

“Me, too,” I agreed. “Maybe we could share them and see if brainstorming helps solidify any suspicions.” Not that I’d be entirely honest. But I sure hoped she would.

Especially since some of my suspicions centered on her.

But she started playing my game even before I passed the ball to her. “Who do you think did it, Kendra?” she asked, leaning on the concrete wall topped by a chain-link fence that surrounded the enclosure, and looking at me.

“I’m not really ready to point to any one person,” I said cautiously. “For example, I haven’t eliminated Warren Beell from the killing, only from the wolfnapping. How about you?”

“No, but I think you’d have a better idea than I do. How likely do you think it is that he did it, compared with anyone else?”

Was she fishing to see where she sat on my suspect list? I wasn’t about to divulge that—especially since I wasn’t exactly certain.

I shrugged. “I really haven’t narrowed things down enough to determine who I think is the most likely culprit. Warren’s not as high in my suspicions now as he was when I headed here this morning, though. So tell me something about your niggles. Who’s your number-one suspect?”

Megan laughed, and we once more started walking through the sanctuary. The late September day was delightful, although the sun beating down could grow uncomfortable if we were outside too long. Our next stop was coyote heaven—with three pacing inhabitants. Once again, the enclosure had a concrete wall around it topped with a tall wire fence. The animals were also safely ensconced behind a moat that kept them separated from visitors.

“I honestly don’t have one person in mind, Kendra,” Megan finally said. “And I have a feeling that what you’re really trying to get from me is a sense of whether I might be the guilty party. The answer’s no—although my saying so won’t necessarily make you believe it.”

My turn to laugh. “You’re right, but your sense of humor just moved you a lot farther down on my little list.”

She again turned to look at the closest animals who were her charges. Two coyotes ignored us, and the third didn’t seem impressed by our presence. He looked in our direction, then snootily stared the other way.

“I hate that Jon was killed here, Kendra,” Megan said seriously. “I hate that he was killed at all, in fact. He was fairly quiet, but he always did his job well and seemed to care a great deal about the animals. Only—”

“Only what?” I prompted, somehow seeing, in the wild and carnivorous coyotes, the specters of Dante, Brody, and whatever name Jon Doe went by in the old days working together, yet ready to tear each other apart if it suited them.

“I don’t know,” she finally said with a sigh. “There was something about him—watchful, I guess. He was so silent at times that I had a sense he was absorbing everything he saw and heard, to use it all later for some purpose of his own. But that’s just pure fantasy on my part, I’m sure.”

I wasn’t so sure, though, and thought more highly of Megan for her apparently excellent perception.

I had to assume that what little Dante had revealed to me was right. Jon Doe could have been here seeking revenge. He might have been attempting to learn all he could from this place Dante funded so he could use it against the place’s benefactor, who was less than his friend. He wouldn’t learn much, if anything, about Brody here, but maybe that was next on his list.

“Anyway,” Megan continued, “he never argued with me. If he seemed put out by any instructions, he sort of shot me a momentary glare, but it went away as quickly as it came, and he always did as I requested.”

I wondered if that kind of response had been learned in the federal penitentiary . . .

“And though he occasionally criticized other people, I never really saw him arguing with anyone else,” she finished, saving me from asking her that question.

“So no other ideas about what happened to him?” I asked somewhat sadly. I hadn’t gotten much from Megan, and was unlikely to get any more.

“Unfortunately, no. But I’m still thinking about it. I told Sergeant Hura I’d let him know if anything else came to mind, and I’ll do the same with you. I Googled you, Kendra.”

We were now closest to the mountain lion’s den—a real cougar, not like my senior client Alice Corcorian. I’d been staring into her lair, but now looked back at Megan’s somewhat smug face.

“I’d heard a lot about you from Dante,” she continued, “but it was even more interesting reading online about how you stick your nose into so many murders. That reporter Corina Carey—she’s on the TV a lot, and they pick up her stories on various Web sites as well. She seems very impressed by your murder-solving prowess. So . . . well, I figure you have some ideas by now of who killed Jon, but you’re not ready to share them with someone you’ve barely met who’s not in law enforcement. I get it. But once the culprit has been arrested, I’d love to hear your thought processes.”

I was definitely taken aback by this, but didn’t let it show—I hoped. With what aplomb I could muster, I said, “Let’s see how it goes. If I actually do solve this case, of course. There are never any guarantees.” But I certainly aspired to do it this time as well. And I also realized that it was entirely possible that Megan was indeed the killer, and had taken this tack to throw me off her track.

I considered asking for her opinion of Dante and how he appeared to get along with Jon Doe when I hadn’t been around, but didn’t want her to know that Dante remained on my list alongside her. And I’d seen Dante, Doe, and Brody all here together, so I could probably gauge that myself—all utterly calm on the surface, but I’d seen something boiling beneath. Something, at the time, that had seemed somewhat inexplicable, but now I at least had some teensy yet undetailed understanding of why it might have existed.

We walked for a while more, and I again just soaked in all the sights and scents of the sanctuary. More visitors appeared and sauntered around us as well. I saw volunteers Anthony and Krissy leading tours, as well as others I’d come to recognize. Even Irwin Overland, who’d previously been a visitor himself, was now heading a tour group.

A few of the visitors seemed to be there more to walk than to see the inhabitants. A group of nicely dressed men just strolled slowly along the path, conversing quietly. There were also a couple of large guys in jeans who seemed more interested in roughhousing than in viewing animals, and Megan went over to ask them to save it for outside.