Howl Deadly (28 page)

“Keep going,” he whispered, then slipped into unconsciousness.

 

 

 

NO SENSE GOING any further into the emotions of the next few hours. Suffice it to say that I was a wreck.

I almost welcomed the inquisition Sergeant Frank Hura laid on me much later, at the hospital, after Krissy was taken into custody. By then, I’d already ascertained that Dante’s wound was, in fact, not life-threatening, like he’d said. No major organs had been punctured, although he’d lost even more blood by the time the EMTs arrived, despite my stanching efforts.

Brody had given me his shirt to wear. He and I had followed the ambulance to the local hospital, and we did all we could to ensure Dante was treated well. Jeff met us there. I had to admit that he had been not only an excellent backup, but also utterly emotionally supportive. He was really there for me, even as he had to realize he was helping me cope with an injury to his rival for my affections.

But Jeff wasn’t stupid. He left as soon as the doctors assured us that Dante would be okay. “I’ll call you, Kendra,” he said.

Brody was there till Frank Hura arrived. Frank took him aside first for his statement. And then he asked for mine.

We sat in the lobby area outside the emergency room; Dante was in a small room for treatment.

“So you did it again, Kendra,” Frank said with a frown. The large Homicide Detail detective appeared a bit deflated. “Ned Noralles warned me it would happen—that you’d solve this murder case before I did.”

“I’m just lucky that way, I guess,” I answered with irony I hoped was obvious.

“I’ve gotten a little about what went on from the others who were there—Megan Zurich, Anthony Pfalzer, and Brody Avilla.” He glanced down at a pad of paper in his lap, as if to assure himself he had gotten their names right. “They’ve all said that you were instrumental in getting Ms. Kollings to show her hand that way.” He aimed an angry glare at me. “Foolish, you know. You could have gotten killed. As it is, Mr. DeFrancisco was wounded.”

I noticed that he had spoken Dante’s name formally and with obvious deference, now that the megamillionaire was no longer a murder suspect. I kept myself from smiling at that. I didn’t need to antagonize this cop, even now.

“I’m not sure I was instrumental in anything,” I said, not trying to be modest—just diplomatic. And careful. I obviously couldn’t reveal the entire story, since it could give up the identity of someone I’d promised to protect from the news media, at least as much as I could. And he’d earned my compliance. “I simply was fortunate enough to find our missing wolf. I didn’t know for certain that the person who had taken her away without authorization had also murdered Jon Doe, but by not revealing her return to the sanctuary ahead of time, I was hoping to get a reaction from the thief that would give him or her away. And that worked.”

“Did you know who it was in advance?” Frank asked, making notes.

“Not really, although I had my suspicions.”

“So how did you know where the wolf was, so you could go retrieve her?”

Now I was in delicate territory. “I got an anonymous tip, in a phone call.” Okay, so I lied to a cop. And I knew he’d have ways to check calls that had come in to any and all of my phones.

Sure enough, he asked, “On which phone? Was caller ID blocked?”

I told him it came in on a landline at my law office, and, yes, there was no way I could see who it was or where it had come from. And, no, I didn’t really know why anyone would call me at all, let alone there, with the information. Shouldn’t it have come in to the sanctuary itself?

Anyway, I explained how I’d followed up, found mama wolf, then come up with this way of getting the perpetrator to react in a way that gave away her guilt, which had happened.

“And you’re right,” I remarked remorsefully. “It was foolish, in a way, even though I had a P.I. friend outside for security. I feel responsible for Dante’s getting stabbed.”

I must have looked as guilty as I honestly did feel, since the sergeant said soothingly, “It’s not entirely your fault. Dante’s going to be fine. And you did manage to get our suspect to confess, and not just to stealing a wolf.”

I nodded. “As much as I like that mama wolf, I’m even prouder of helping to unearth the murderer.”

“You’re everything Ned said, Kendra,” said Sergeant Hura. “I have to chew you out for your interference of course, and for not keeping us fully informed, but unofficially, I want to thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, purposely not tossing out the common response of “any time.”

“Oh, and by the way,” he said, “we’re looking into it further, but we understand that the owners of the Amazing Animal Farm, where the wolf was stashed, are distant relatives of Ms. Kollings. So far, they’re not cooperating much in our investigation, but hopefully that will change.”

Interesting. No wonder Esta didn’t cooperate much with me, either. I’d imagine, though, that the worst she thought she had gotten herself into was wolfnapping, not being an accessory to murder.

Frank left soon afterward, and I assured him I’d be available whenever he needed more official statements, or testimony at Krissy Kollings’ trial, whenever that might be.

I had a sense that the sergeant was satisfied with what he had found out from me, at least for now.

But I still had a lot of questions I intended to lob at Dante as soon as he felt better.

In a way, he owed me a whole slew of answers.

 

 

 

BUT NOT NOW. Taking a deep breath, I headed back to the emergency room, afraid of what I might find there.

Was Dante really okay? Surely someone would have come to get me if there’d been any change in his condition. Brody, at least. I wasn’t a relative, so the hospital staff wouldn’t especially care whether I was worried about the man who’d been stabbed.

I recognized then how worried I actually was. Like it or not, Dante had become damned important to me. He could have died when Krissy stabbed him. And then what would I have done?

Thank heavens, I didn’t have to think about that. He was still propped up in the same tiny examining room’s bed, and he grinned broadly when I burst in. Brody sat in a chair beside him.

“Kendra! You’re back. I thought you might have left.”

“Only to answer Frank Hura’s questions,” I said. Dante’s color was good, and he looked essentially okay, if I ignored the white hospital gown and the IV stuff stuck into him. He had a sheet up around him, so I couldn’t see the bandage on his side. “So, what’s next? Are they going to admit you to the hospital, or release you?”

“I’m staying at least overnight for observation,” he said, not looking particularly pleased about it. “They want to make sure there’s no infection, and all that.”

“Good idea.” I considered bombarding him with some of the questions I still had about the situation, but figured they’d wait till he was out of there.

“You ready to leave, Kendra, and let this malingerer rest?” Brody asked, his face as expressionless as if he was serious. But, hey, he was an actor.

“Yeah, let’s let this big baby play his crying games with the hospital staff. See you tomorrow, Dante.”

And only when I was in the car with Brody did I let loose and cry.

 

 

 

THAT NIGHT, IN Dante’s classy cabin near the mountains, Lexie hovered near me as if she knew exactly how upset I was, sweet pup that she is.

I was so exhausted that I actually got a little sleep. Brody and I headed back to the hospital fairly early, and I saw that Dante was in pain despite his meds. I hung around to give him moral support, and decided my questions could still wait.

In the afternoon, he was doing much better—so well, that relief made me feel like pirouetting in pleasure.

I even decided I could run by Dante the ADR idea my brain had begun to ponder. I wanted to resolve the situation at HotRescues before the lawsuit was actually served by Efram Kiley’s lawyer, James Remseyer. And now that mama wolf had been found and Jon Doe’s murder had been solved—even though I still hadn’t all the background details I intended to demand—my subconscious had returned to the other main unfinished matter on my mind.

Brody had already headed back to L.A., and I had driven to the hospital, again leaving Lexie with Dante’s household staff. I sat on the chair beside his bed and pressed the button on the remote to mute the business news on the TV.

I told him what I wanted to talk about, and he agreed—probably relieved that I wasn’t pressing for the missing details about Jon Doe. Yet.

“It’ll take a bit more settlement money,” I told him, “and more effort from Lauren Vancouver, but I suspect she’ll consider it a win-win situation.”

When I’d explained, Dante was on board—even to the tune of expanding on the funds he would commit to make the case go away. Together, using the speaker function on Dante’s spiffy super-techno phone, we spoke to Lauren. I wasn’t sure whether she worked at HotRescues twenty-four/seven, but with her commitment, I wouldn’t have been surprised. She sounded pleased by the settlement possibility we presented, if not extremely excited.

Next, as the lawyer for HotRescues, I called James Remseyer from my own cell, got his voice mail—it was Sunday, after all—but got a call back fairly soon. He agreed to meet the next day, as long as it was in his office.

“Your settlement offer better be a lot better than your last suggestion, Kendra,” he asserted. “You know the last time—”

“It is, you’ll see.” I cut him off before the assertive attorney allowed his words to run rampant over the phone lines. “Just be sure to bring your client.”

 

 

 

LEXIE AND I had headed back to L.A. that evening, too late for me to pet-sit, but I picked up keys from Rachel the next morning to hit a few of my favorite charges’ homes.

And then I headed for Remseyer’s Northridge office.

Lauren was already in the suite’s reception area. Efram Kiley was waiting with Remseyer in the same small conference room where I’d convened with the attorney the last time.

I hadn’t met Kiley before. Couldn’t say he looked especially abusive, but his snide glances from Lauren to his lawyer suggested he was visualizing lots of dollar signs. He looked to be in his early twenties, perhaps an exercise addict, with lots of brawn outlined by his sleeveless T-shirt.

My idea might be an ideal use of all those muscles, I thought.

“Glad you could join us, Ms. Ballantyne, Ms. Vancouver,” Remseyer began. “Now, you know, we’ve been holding off serving the complaint in our action only to give you another chance to propose an acceptable settlement offer. I hope this one is better than the last one. Of course—”

“Of course,” I interrupted. This guy, with his perfectly tailored suit and shaved head, still attempted to assert control over the meeting by never shutting up. I wondered how he fared in court, if he tried the same kind of manipulation with judges as well as opposing counsel—and hoped I wouldn’t have to find out. “And here it is.”

I laid out the proposal, in which Kiley could earn a heck of a lot of money without worrying about the iffy nature of a lawsuit—but, yes, he would have to earn it by working at HotRescues and being tutored in animal care and kindness by the staff. He had claimed a misunderstanding, after all. Not cruelty to his dog, but failure to keep him from injuring himself. Efram would commit to a minimum number of hours over an agreed-on time period—an amount that allowed him to keep whatever other job he might have. From what I’d gathered, he was an air-conditioning repairman, and this idea was not incompatible with his schedule.

He would help in all aspects of animal care, and if at any time he did anything that resembled cruelty, he would be kicked out and have to refund half of what he had earned.

His efforts would be monitored by a neutral third party—well, neutral as between HotRescues and Kiley, but an animal advocate who wouldn’t put up with any nonsense or nastiness from him. At the end, assuming he never did anything wrong at the rescue facility, he would get a lump-sum bonus.

And, with luck and perseverance, Lauren would get some feel for, and assurance that, this guy would learn enough not to harm any hounds again.

“If you agree, we’ll memorialize this in a settlement agreement, of course,” I finished.

There was silence from their side of the table as I described all this. Yes, silence from Remseyer. I exchanged glances with Lauren. Maybe we’d need to go to trial on this case after all.

“Can I talk to you?” Kiley whined to his attorney. They rose and started talking in whispers near the window at the end of the conference room.

“What do you think?” Lauren asked. “I love the idea, especially if we can get some publicity for it.”

“I’m sure we can,” I said, thinking of my friend Corina Carey. I’d called her last night as soon as I was sure Dante agreed I could give her the down-and-dirty details—as far as they could be made public—about mama wolf and Jon Doe.

In about five minutes, the two men sat down across from us. “Depending on the details in the settlement agreement,” Remseyer stated formally, “throw in another five thousand dollars and we have a deal.”

I didn’t tell him that Dante had authorized up to an additional ten thousand dollars.

 

 

LAUREN AND I called Dante from outside the office building. He sounded extremely pleased by our news. And then he asked, “Will you be back here soon, Kendra?”

“First thing after my pet-sitting tomorrow,” I told him.

“There’s some more news,” he said. “Megan figures that, with all the less than stellar publicity HotWildlife is getting, it’s a good time to announce the winners of the contest to name our wolves. She got some good entries right away—along with some contributions—and always made it clear that the contest wouldn’t go on very long.”