Howl Deadly (2 page)

“Sure.” Megan moved to allow Krissy and Anthony to draw closer to the vast window opening onto the wolf habitat. “We haven’t had time to do that yet, not even with our little mother. She was brought here only last week, and gave birth almost immediately.”

I knew. Thanks to Dante staying in close touch with the people in charge of the facilities he funded, he’d learned immediately from Megan about the secretive, dead-of-night deposit here of the very pregnant gray wolf. He’d told me about it, and the instant I expressed an interest in being there for the big event, we were in his car, heading to the sanctuary. For that day, I’d left my adorable Cavalier King Charles spaniel, Lexie, in the charge of my assistant at Critter TLC, LLC.

Dante had staff in his home—his Malibu home—who could care for his smart and sweet German shepherd, Wagner. He also had part-time staff at his additional home near here, at the base of the San Bernardino Mountains. How many other houses did he maintain? Damned if I knew.

We’d been here to witness the miracle of the wild wolves’ birth. Then we headed home—and planned to come back for this long, lovely weekend, staying in Dante’s local residence with our pampered pets and visiting HotWildlife a lot, keeping an eye on the sweet wolf pups.

“I’ll bet Dante will come up with the greatest names, won’t you, Dante?” Krissy asked. She now stood on his other side, and she looked up adoringly into his eyes, one hand resting on the sleeve of his blue work shirt.

Krissy had been here during the birth, too. I’d seen how she stayed way too near Dante. Obviously had a crush on him, even though he had to be at least fifteen years her senior. I figured her for mid-twenties, and Dante was forty-two.

Me? I’m thirty-six. Not cute like Krissy, but okay to look at.

“Oh, I think I’ll leave that to others with more imagination than me,” Dante said, smiling sexily in my flattered direction. Guess he agreed with my assessment of my appearance.

But I wasn’t about to spout out a slew of perfect names. Instead, I asked Megan, “Why not hold a contest for the public to provide possible names? Maybe people could make a contribution that would entitle them to suggest something.” I glanced back at Dante, unsure whether he liked the idea of assistance in his charitable endeavors. He just winked at me.

A wink from those deep, dark, delicious eyes could have made me melt if we’d been alone. I caught Krissy’s sad-eyed gaze at her hero, as if he had dared to ignore her. Which he kinda had.

“Great idea!” Megan said. “We’ve done that before when rescued animals have been brought in. A mini wolf pack like this should draw a bunch of media attention, get us lots of donations.”

“I know a reporter who’d love something like this,” I said, hoping it was so. My sometimes-friend, tabloid reporter Corina Carey at
National NewsShakers,
was right on the spot when there were little things like petnappings from Hollywood notables, or—better yet, from her perspective—unsolved murders happening around me. A sweet thing like a rescued wolf and her new pups might not be as exciting.

And, yes, in case you haven’t watched Corina’s awful TV show or seen the other stuff in the news about me, in addition to being a lawyer and pet-sitter, I am, most unfortunately, also a murder magnet. I’ve been involved in solving a lot more killings than I like to think about. But surely that trend has to come to an end eventually.

Preferably immediately.

“Hey, how’s it going?” A skinny senior citizen with a goatee as gray as the hair on his head strolled in. He wore denim overalls with a white T-shirt beneath the bib as well as large bifocals perched on his parrot-beak nose. I’d met him before. He was a caretaker here at HotWildlife. His name was, incredibly, Jon Doe.

“Really well, Jon,” Megan told him. “Once she’s done nursing, though, I’d like to add some softer substrate for her to lie on with the pups. Any ideas?”

They talked it over for a while, discussing materials ranging from purified mulch to a fuzzy bathmat. The decision, though, was to mix some straw with the cedar chips. And if they happened to throw in some indestructible towels, too, that was fine. It would still be close to a natural habitat. Wolves in the wild might drag the softest stuff they could find into their lairs. With the way people disposed of their discards, that might, now and then, include toweling.

By the time they were done with the discussion, mama wolf was also through. She stood and strode away from her little balls of fur—two black and one gray—who squealed unhappily at the abandonment. Still too small for their eyes to open, they didn’t see that mommy was only a few feet away, regarding them with both interest and exasperation in her intense wolfen eyes.

“Is her food ready to put inside the enclosure?” Megan asked Jon.

“Sure is,” he replied.

“Let me do it, please,” interjected Krissy. “I’d love to get closer to the mama wolf.”

“Not a good idea,” Megan chastised. “You know our routine. Only Jon or one of the other caretakers feeds our charges, so we don’t confuse or upset them with a lot of intruding humans or scents.”

Krissy appeared ready to protest, but she backed off when Dante shot her a stern look. She instead smiled and said, “Sure thing.”

We all stood around enjoying the scene a little longer, including when Jon Doe slipped into the enclosure via the back door and left a bowl of what Megan described as a nutritious packaged doggy food enhanced with stuff wolves might find in the wild.

I didn’t want to know more about the latter or how it was supplied. I had no doubt, though, that Dante had all the knowledge needed. And supplier sources. After all, he also owned HotPets, the biggest and best chain of pet supply stores in the country. It was how he’d made his millions.

Maybe. Despite the relationship I’d recently started with Dante, I knew there was a lot about him that I didn’t know. Secretive stuff about his past.

That perhaps was better left there.

No matter, for now. It was time for us to leave the sanctuary, but we’d be back tomorrow before heading to L.A.

 

 

 

AS WE DEPARTED in Dante’s sleek silver Mercedes, I called my pet-sitting assistant, Rachel Preesinger, who also happens to be the daughter of the tenant in my Hollywood Hills home.

Me? I live in the apartment over the garage. I moved in there over a year ago when I had problems with my law career that left me unable to pay the mortgage without assistance. I’d been accused of unethical conduct, and consequently fired from my high-powered L.A. firm. Of course I’d been exonerated, but I’d come to enjoy my revised lifestyle, so Lexie and I still reside in our home sweet garage.

“Everything okay with our clients, Rachel?” I asked, watching as Dante and I moved from the narrow drive leading to HotWildlife onto the highway. Lots of cars around, even in this rural area.

“They’re all just fine,” she told me. “Wanda’s checked in with me, too, about the couple she’s taken on till you get back.”

“Great.” Wanda Villareal was a fellow member of the Pet-Sitters Club of SoCal who also owned a Cavalier King Charles spaniel, Basil. Plus, she was the girlfriend of my dearest friend in the world, Darryl Nestler, owner of Doggy Indulgence Day Resort. I’d been able to take the weekend away after getting the okay from my clients to substitute sitters. Even so, taking such time away was a real rarity for me. “See you tomorrow,” I finished, and hung up.

I glanced at Dante and found his gaze on me for a moment; then it returned to the road. Lord, he was one handsome dude, even dressed casually in an ordinary blue work shirt and jeans, with his well-defined features, deep brown eyes, and black, wavy hair. And a smile that was especially smoldering just then.

“Everything okay?” He repeated the question I’d asked Rachel. He’d never met me during my high-powered law days, when my hair was highlighted and my garb was usually lady-lawyer dressy. Now, I kept my untouched-up brown hair shoulder length and wore suits only during my less frequent forays to legal meetings and court.

“Sure thing,” I said, and sat back, crossing my blue-jeaned legs—still observing him from the corner of my eye, one of my favorite pastimes these days.

I’m not going to give any details about our excellent evening. Not many, at least. Suffice it to say that our dogs were delighted to see us. This time, we had brought them both to the area and left them in Dante’s home. Before it got dark, we all four took a walk in the thick, fresh-smelling woods surrounding Dante’s rustic mountain cabin.

Well, kinda rustic. It looked like hewn logs from the outside, but it was big and had all the amenities imaginable inside.

Including household help who ensured we all ate well after our walk, doggies included.

And despite its locale off the beaten track, the cabin was behind a big gate in a fence surrounding the property.

Lexie on my lap and Wagner on the floor beside the comfy leather sofa at Dante’s feet, we watched business news, including the behavior of the big, bad stock market, on the large HD TV in the den. Dante was apparently a substantial investor, hopefully sprinkling his huge fortune around wisely. He didn’t seem especially upset that night, and when we went to bed . . .

Well, that’s the part that’ll remain private.

 

 

 

NEXT MORNING, SUNDAY, we headed back to HotWildlife. I loved the look of it from the outside, a wrought-iron fence surrounding a huge sanctuary containing lots of habitats, each designed specially for each species of inhabitant. Inside, I meandered along the walkway and glanced in at sleeping tigers, standing lions, and pacing coyotes, Dante holding my hand. In the distance, I noticed Jon Doe head inside a nondescript building. “That’s where supplies are stored,” Dante responded to my inquiry.

Then we headed for the attractive critical-care structure. The wolf pups were nursing yet again. Surprise! At their young age, I assumed they did a lot of that. Today there were dozens of observers standing outside the glass, viewing them. Members of the public were encouraged to visit. And to contribute.

Several volunteers, including Anthony and Krissy, were leading tour groups of ten visitors each. Most seemed eager to stay and watch the wolves, but the tour guides were adept at encouraging them to move on.

“Hi,” Anthony said as he led his gang to the exit. I gave my own greeting back, as did Dante.

Two more groups departed while Krissy and her gang remained. She soon sidled in our direction—especially toward Dante.

“How are you this morning, Krissy?” he asked her in a pleasant tone.

“Wonderful!” she gushed, looking as happy as if he’d asked her out on a date.

“Glad to hear it,” I interjected. “I just love to watch that mother wolf and her pups, don’t you?”

She tore her gaze from Dante, shot me a brief smile as if I didn’t exactly exist, then said, “Well, gotta go. I have visitors to show around.” She leaned conspiratorially toward Dante. Standing on her toes despite her open sandals beneath her capri slacks, she said, “I’ll try to get them all to give HotWildlife lots of money. They seem interested in paying to try to name the baby wolves.”

“Great!” I said as Dante nodded his approval.

She soon departed, and Megan joined us near the wolf den. Most of the crowd was gone now.

“They look like they’re thriving,” I said, my tone a little quizzical.

She nodded. “They’re getting along just fine.”

We observed for a few more minutes.

“Ready to head home?” Dante eventually asked, sounding as reluctant as I felt.

“I sure am,” I said anyway. “I need to take back my pet-sitting tonight.”

“Oh, yes—Dante told me you’re a pet-sitter,” Megan said. “I guess you understand what it’s like to want to take care of all these animals this way.”

I nodded. “But I doubt I’d do as well with so many, especially wildlife, the way you do.”

She smiled and accompanied us as we walked out of the building.

Jon Doe came up to us, pushing a cart laden with containers of animal food. “Hey, thanks for stopping by again,” the grizzled older guy said. He was dressed once more in a T-shirt and grungy overalls. “Guess we’ll be getting in some more high-quality stuff for these creatures’ habitats pretty soon. Beats the wilderness, doesn’t it? Shelters from bad weather and enemies—whoever they may be—and at least what feels like safety to them. Love ’em all, don’t you?”

“Absolutely,” I said. I noticed a strange look pass between Dante and Doe, but only for a second. Might even have imagined it, since afterward they shook hands.

“Keep up the good work,” Dante told the caretaker.

“Count on it,” was the enthusiastic reply.

We took one more meander around the compound, avoiding the gangs of visitors whenever possible. I particularly paid attention to where Krissy was with her crowd, so we could go the other way.

And then we left, drove to Dante’s “shack,” and picked up our pups. Dante’s part-time housekeepers were there, and we soon said goodbye. We were back at my place about two hours later, after stopping for supper.

“Care to come in?” I asked Dante, bending down to pat Wagner’s smooth-furred head.

To my delight, they stayed the night. Never mind that my digs would have fit in the foyer at Dante’s Malibu mansion. We were definitely comfortable here. As we’d been in the mountains. Or wherever.

 

 

 

I WASN’T SURE what time it was when a song startled me awake. Not my cell phone.

Dante’s. Ringing at not quite five in the morning.

He groped from where he lay near me in my small but comfortable bed. His phone was on the table by his side.

“Hello?” he grumbled with obvious irritation at being awakened this way. Had he recognized the number? He sure had. “This better be important, Megan. You know how early it is?”