Never Say Sty (15 page)

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Authors: Linda O. Johnston

BOOK: Never Say Sty
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“I’ll give you what I’ve got if you’ll do the same,” he replied.
“Do you have anything?” Howard demanded.
Ned turned to face him. “Do you?” he countered. “Besides hope, that is.” Ned looked at me. “Howard and I were partners, as you know. We aren’t any longer, and not just because of this case. We aren’t the best of buddies these days, though that’s still no reason to try to pin a murder on me.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“Oh, just some backstabbing.” Wherlon’s voice had grown hard, and so had his glare. “But I agree that’s not relevant here. As one of us, though, Ned, you know that obstruction of justice is a crime. If you know anything about this case, you need to tell us.”
“And I will,” Ned said agreeably. “But the condition is that you share anything helpful with me, too.”
Detective Schwinglan slammed her hands on the table and stood. “We’re just going in circles. Detective Noralles, you know we don’t share information with civilians—and before you say anything”—Ned had also risen and now faced her—“until you’re fully cleared, if you are, we’re not telling you anything regarding yourself or your sister. On the other hand, if you withhold information vital to this case, not only will your suspension become permanent, but we’ll also make sure you’re prosecuted for obstruction of justice. Do I make myself clear?”
Ned now faced her. He wasn’t a whole lot taller than the willowy bitch, but she managed to appear on his level. And absolutely uncowed by his obvious anger.
“Yeah, you’re clear, all right. Clear”—he obviously swallowed his intended epithet—“clear cop, all the way through. So, let’s go, Kendra, and hand these . . . professionals”—his tone suggested they were anything but—“the resolution of this case on a silver platter. Soon. See ya.” He stomped out.
I looked from one to the other. Both appeared furious. Which made me grin. “It’s times like this,” I said to neither in particular, “that I’m glad I’ve become a murder magnet.” Not true, of course, but they didn’t need to know that. “I’ll take even greater pleasure in solving this one and rubbing it in your faces because of the way you’re treating your own colleague.” Before they could remind me of their prior warnings, I followed Ned’s lead and added, “See ya . . . soon.” Then I, too, was gone.
Ned was waiting for me in the small parking lot. He appeared absolutely steamed. “Those damned . . . Never mind. We need to do something, Kendra. Fast.” He appeared to wilt before my eyes. “I know how these things go. I always attempted never to stomp on the wrong suspect, but when evidence seems to point in one direction, that’s the way you go. They obviously think it’s pointing toward Nita or me. I can see Vickie Schwinglan coming after me like this. She’s really hard-nosed. But Howard? Sure, I didn’t give him the best rating when he was up for a promotion, but that was right around when his girlfriend dumped him and he was too preoccupied to do a good job.”
“He had a girlfriend?” I knew I sounded amazed, but I didn’t exactly consider Howard Wherlon dating material.
“Yeah. I never met her, but I heard she was okay. Then something happened that he never talked about, but I gathered she died. Or nearly died, then left him. Whatever, she was gone.”
She probably wised up and realized what a snail Wherlon was.
“Anyway,” Ned continued, “I’m too close to this to conduct a perfect investigation. You’ll still help, won’t you?”
“Sure,” I said. “But I really want you to meet with Esther Ickes. You need a real criminal attorney, and you’ve seen in the past that she’s the best. Nita needs an attorney, too.” I considered how to suggest this. “She sounded even angrier than you that day, and there were lots of witnesses.”
“You, too, Kendra? Nita’s innocent. Period.”
But I did think this devoted brother did protest too much.
“Got it,” I said. “Meantime—”
“What?”
“We’re doing another test
Animal Auditions
show this afternoon to conduct—what else?—an audition, this time for a replacement judge. If you happen to appear at the studio to watch, maybe you’ll see something or someone that’ll give you ideas for where to search for additional evidence.”
“See you later,” he said, a small smile returning to his face. “And thanks, Kendra. I mean it.” I was only a little surprised when he bent down and gave me a soft kiss on my cheek.
 
 
AFTER CHECKING IN at my law office to be sure nothing dire would occur if I didn’t appear that day, I headed toward nearby Studio City and Doggy Indulgence Day Resort.
Darryl was there. My long, lanky pal greeted me nearly as effusively as Lexie usually did when I entered. “Kendra, glad to see you—although you usually don’t come here this time of day.”
I quickly looked around for someone who could be his new and secret lady friend. Someone I knew. . . . Was her presence why he brought up my unexpected appearance? But all I saw was his regular staff and a bunch of contented canines.
“I’m off to another test filming for
Animal Auditions
,” I told him, “and this time I want Lexie to have the pleasure of participating.”
“Another dog scenario?”
I nodded. “Wanna come?”
“Wish I could, but I’ve got too much going on here.” Everything appeared under control, but this was his business. Perfect care of its patrons was absolutely vital.
“Okay. I’ll let you know how it goes.” I took Lexie’s leash as she eagerly wagged her long, furry tail. She appeared surprised to see me, too, and perhaps delighted about it. “Oh,” I said as I started toward the door, “say hello to her for me.”
His initially puzzled expression turned suddenly horrified. “To who?” he asked, much too casually.
“Your girlfriend. Who’s also my friend, right?”
“Who told you . . . ?”
“Aha!” I sang triumphantly—not that I’d won much of anything. “I surmised as much, thanks to all your secrecy.” Only then did I dare darting a glance toward the inimitable Kiki, who watched this exchange with daggers darting from her eyes toward my vulnerable throat. Much as I didn’t like her, I wouldn’t give her away to her boss and possibly deprive her of her job. She was an excellent care-taker of the dogs in her charge, no matter what else she might be.
“You know a lot of people, Kendra,” Darryl said smugly. “Have you figured out which of them I’m seeing?”
“Possibly, but I’ll confirm it with her first.” With that, I turned my back and led Lexie out the door.
Let Darryl stew on that for a while. He deserved to worry after keeping me in the dark over so important an identity.
 
 
I LED LEXIE inside the back building at SFV Studios. As soon as we entered, I heard a lot of barks. Wasn’t this audition supposed to be a demonstration of ideal doggy training?
In this instance, there wouldn’t be a series of shows like in our usual
Animal Auditions
scenarios, nor would there be a weekly narrowing down of contestants till we wound up with a winner.
No, this time, the winner would be our new judge—although the doggies who did best could be invited to participate in a genuine
Animal Auditions
production.
As Lexie and I entered the sound stage, I understood what had excited all our day’s participants. A whole bunch of dogs and their owners had formed a circle around the two contenders for the open judgeship, and each seemed to vie for everyone’s attention. To my utter amazement, one of those with a dog on a leash was Corina Carey, the assertive reporter. A cameraman stood on the sidelines, filming her. Her energetic pup was an adorable Puli—a medium-size black bundle of fur that looked like moving dreadlocks.
Charley Sherman, the former trainer for Hennessey Studios who resembled the Pillsbury Doughboy, appeared to conduct a canine orchestra with his arms waving in the air. And of course his unmusical band would bark in response, since instead of a baton he waved a huge bone.
As if not to be outdone, his rival, whom I recognized from movies such as the
Rin Tin Tin
remake, was likewise brandishing a bone, pretending to gnaw on it. Brody Avilla was a muscular man with a gorgeous square jaw and an understated acting style that drove female audience members mad.
The heartfelt, hungry woofing that surrounded the men was definitely deafening. And both of them shouted as well.
“Vote for me, all of you,” Charley barked in a strong voice for a seventy-year-old.
“I’m the one,” countered Brody, in a much deeper and stronger tone that seemed to brook no resistance—at least to those of the human persuasion. I had to assume that dogs, too, wouldn’t be inclined to oppose him.
Lexie leaped at the end of her leash, obviously eager to join the fray. I restrained her, even as I couldn’t help laughing aloud at the absurd excitement of the situation.
The audience seemed to be composed of people I’d seen around the studio before. This event wouldn’t be aired on TV, but was just for judge selection. Even so, Charlotte LaVerne seemed to be in charge. She stomped to the middle of the floor—although not where the doggy teasing took place—and clapped loudly. “Okay, let’s get down to business, shall we?”
She was followed by our official show host, Rick Longley, as well as by Rachel, dressed in a snazzy outfit as if this was the real thing.
Rick spoke into his microphone. The former weatherman looked fully at home in front of the camera, a huge smile gracing his model-perfect face. “It’s time for our owners to take lessons from our trainer, Corbin Hayhurst.” He waved toward the side of the stage, and Corbin stepped forward. Rachel led the audience in applause.
The would-be judges dutifully exited center stage and took their places at the table reserved for them. Matilda Hollins and Eliza Post already sat there. I’d sidebar Matilda later to set up a time to talk to her about doggy separation anxiety from a veterinary psychologist’s position—and ask my own questions about Sebastian’s demise.
Chubby Corbin, in jeans and an
Animal Auditions
T-shirt, had the canines line up with their owners. What the hell? Lexie and I joined them. This wasn’t for real, and we’d get a kick out of it. We edged in beside Corina. She had dressed for the occasion in a shocking pink shirt over casual beige slacks.
“Fancy seeing you here,” she said with a smile.
“Ditto. How’d you learn about the judge’s audition today?”
She inclined her head to one side. “A hunky bird told me.” I saw Dante enter from stage right with Wagner. They must have just arrived. Otherwise, I would absolutely have noticed them. He caught my eye and gave me a huge grin that I took as a challenge. He looked a whole heck of a lot better than Corbin, in tight jeans and a plain navy T-shirt.
“Dante called you?” I asked Corina in surprise. He’d seemed inclined not to encourage the avid reporter.
“On condition that I not interview him.”
“Got it.” Obviously, he wanted to remain on Corina’s good side but still stay offcamera.
What was he really hiding?
No time to ponder that puzzle just then. “Introduce me to your pup,” I told Corina. “You know Lexie, of course.”
As the two dogs sniffed each other with interest, she said, “This is ZsaZsa. I thought that was an appropriate name for a Hungarian sheepdog. She’s really smart. She’ll show up all the other dogs today.”
“Hmmph,” I said to her as I knelt and muttered to Lexie, “You’ve got to forget all the times I let you get away with not listening.”
Rick Longley walked down the line, introducing handlers and dogs. Some had been there before. One other I especially noticed was an adorable fuzzy beige pup with floppy ears, whose name was Mooch. I gathered that she might be a schnauzer, from her soulful brown eyes and fluffy mustache, but she also seemed somewhat like a terri-poo mix. I’d seen her doing an excellent job while the judges played. She clearly could dance on her hind legs like a pro when a bone was held above her head.
The scenario for that afternoon was relatively simple. The dogs were to pretend to participate in Doggy Olympics. They would compete in a canine version of softball.
Corbin Hayhurst of Show Biz Beasts made the instructions easy. He would roll the ball, and the dogs, one at a time, were to catch it and carry it to an improvised base, where Corbin himself headed. The winners would tag him out.
Each pup and owner were given time to train, and then to test their abilities. “Come on, Lexie,” I urged her as she followed the ball, then scooped it up in her eager mouth.
She didn’t seem inclined to carry it to where Corbin waited to be tagged out, so I encouraged her by tugging on her leash. She finally got the message . . . sort of. She dropped the ball at Corbin’s feet and stood wagging her tail, waiting to be petted.
“Close enough,” I said to her with a sigh. She surely wouldn’t be champion of this competition.
Mooch did a much better job, playing chase as if she did it all the time. So did ZsaZsa.
And, unsurprisingly, Wagner performed like a pro.
Then it was time for the actual contest to begin. I went through the same scenario with Lexie, but she seemed more inclined to seek attention than to play doggy softball.

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