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Authors: Linda O. Johnston

BOOK: Never Say Sty
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“Wishful thinking on my fellow detectives’ part,” Ned said with a shrug. “I’m better at this than they are, so why not get in their digs while they can—till the real killer is ID’d?” Like . . . your sister?
“Which is where I come in.” Jeff also joined us.
“You’re on the case?” Dante inquired.
“Sure am.” Jeff’s tone held a note of belligerence, as if he anticipated Dante’s disapproval. But I knew why our
Animal Auditions
backer was asking while obviously knowing the answer. His sidelong glance at me suggested I was right.
He wanted to point out again to me that a pro—a real P.I.—was investigating the murder on behalf of the same suspects I wanted to help. So why should I interfere, especially at my possible peril?
Because I wanted to. Because I’d all but promised Ned. Because I’d sometimes proven myself better at badgering out killers than the professionals did.
And mostly because I wasn’t about to buckle under to Dante DeFrancisco’s issuance of orders. Okay, I liked the guy. A lot.
But he wasn’t the boss of me.
And so I said, “Like I’ve said, Jeff, I’m glad you’re on it. Two heads are better than one, though, so I’ll keep digging to see what else I can learn about Sebastian’s enemies. I’ll give you what I find, as long as I can continue to use Althea as a resource.”
“You got it,” Jeff said, looking particularly pleased as he aimed a small smile in Dante’s direction.
“Four heads are even better than two,” Brody broke in before said Mr. DeFrancisco could say something nasty. “Dante’s a good sounding board, and I like to butt in, now and then, when I’m not wanted.” His big grin was intended to be disarming. And it was . . . to some extent.
I still wanted more details about the backgrounds of Dante and Brody. But I certainly wasn’t going to get my answers now.
I was, however, the center of attention as both Jeff and Dante walked me to my car. Fortunately, Ned and Nita distracted Jeff with questions on how his inquiry on their behalf was progressing.
“That guy still wants you, Kendra,” Dante observed with obvious displeasure as he stood beside me.
As do I
, his heated gaze asserted.
“We’re just friends,” I responded with a sadistic smile.
“Could be. In any event, have a good evening.”
But would I, when I’d obviously be spending it alone?
 
 
ALL THE BETTER for digging into my murder inquiries, I recognized a short while later.
Which meant reliance on some of my usual sources. One in particular: Althea. I called her on my short journey from the soundstage to Doggy Indulgence Day Resort.
“Jeff sounded pretty pleased this afternoon when he called,” Althea said. “He told me to continue to cooperate with you if you asked for information. You interested in some of the additional data I found about Sebastian? Jeff will look into it, too, but there are a couple of people he now thinks you’d be better questioning—Sebastian’s ex-wife, for one.”
“Really?” Sounded like Jeff was going all out to impress me. Which made me smile. But didn’t make me think I’d let him back into my life for anything but investigating.
I pulled to the side of the road and grabbed the list of stuff to look into concerning Sebastian’s murder that I’d already started. Althea gave me the data I needed to contact Sebastian’s ex, and I gave her some additional things to look into for me, mostly about Sebastian’s dog agility training academy and his reputation as an agility judge. I also requested a little background check on Nita Noralles and Rick Longley, just in case.
“Thanks, Althea,” I told her. “I owe you. As usual.”
“What you owe me is to stay on Jeff’s good side. I know better than to warn you against getting too close to Dante DeFrancisco, but . . . well, I haven’t completed my own kind of research into his background, Kendra, but I’m getting discouraged. Sure, he’s ruthless at times, when it suits him, but I haven’t found anything too awful. And I’ve found oodles of stuff on how he started from nothing but a love for animals, built a magnificent empire selling pet-related products, and expends tremendous amounts endowing pet shelters and wildlife rescue organizations.”
“Right,” I said, expecting her, with the repetitious buildup, to say something nasty about the guy.
“Don’t you get it now?” she exploded in obvious exasperation. “You did before. This is all PR hokum. It may be true. In fact, it most likely is. But Dante DeFrancisco’s life appears to have begun when he was in his twenties or so, in the military. I’ve found nothing on his childhood, where he went to college, or anything else about how he really started out.”
A sudden insight started tugging at my brain synapses. “Did Jeff give you a request similar to mine—but tell you to make sure to find out lots of awful stuff about Dante?”
Althea’s hesitation shouted her response. Jeff, suspecting I had a romantic interest in Dante, would want to discredit the guy in my eyes, maybe so I’d come running back to him.
Not gonna happen, even if Dante was as disreputable as Jeff wanted him to be.
Even so, I remained intrigued. And damned curious. And if anyone could get answers, it would be Althea.
“Can I give you a similar track to follow without your spilling it to Jeff?” I asked. “I hate to put you in that position, though, so if you have any qualms—”
“No, it’s okay, Kendra,” she told me. “Jeff said I should do any research you wanted. He wants me to give him any new results on Mr. DeFrancisco, but he also said he figured you’d tell me not to do that—and he agreed even before the question was asked.”
“Really?”
Jeff was actually being reasonable. He must really want me to return to him. Which made me feel flattered. But still not inclined to bolt back into his arms.
“Yes,” Althea said.
“Okay, then.” Still, I felt a clarification was in order. “But, Althea, if at any time you feel you can’t keep a confidentiality promise to me, tell me before you continue with any research assignment I give you.”
“Will do.”
That was when I asked her to search deeper into her magical Web sites—in other words, hack into secret government stuff—to dig out more about the way Dante’s path crossed Brody Avilla’s somewhere in the military. And more . . . before.
 
 
BEFORE COMPLETING MY regular rounds, I picked up Princess and Lexie at Darryl’s Doggy Indulgence, and drove all the way almost to Thousand Oaks. I confirmed first that Wanda Villareal, my friend from the Pet-Sitters Club of Southern California, would meet us there.
She was sitting in her car, awaiting our arrival. She gave me a hug in greeting, then fussed over her new friend Princess, who leaped around, then settled down to lick Wanda’s face.
Wanda was a petite person who favored flowing, gauzy tops. The one she wore today over blue jeans was lime green. Her face was pretty, her huge brown eyes enhanced with green shadow, and her mouth was turned up in a radiant smile. “Great to see you, Kendra,” she said. “And thanks for the referral. My pet-sitting practice is doing well, but I like to broaden my horizons.”
“Princess’s people will be thrilled you’re here,” I told her. I was, too. If only I could converse in Barklish with Princess to reassure her when she was alone . . . but since I couldn’t, ensuring she had constant company was the best alternative for now. “The Jeongs are at wits’ end trying to keep Princess from crying out and disturbing the neighbors. She’s got the world’s worst case of separation anxiety.”
“Not on my watch, she won’t.” Wanda’s smile grew even broader. “You just brought her from Doggy Indulgence?”
I nodded. “I think she had a good time there.”
“At our daytime competition’s?” Wanda was teasing . . . wasn’t she? “Doggy day care’s a good thing, though,” she finished.
“And Doggy Indulgence is the best,” I added.
“Could be. Anyway, I’ve arranged to have my Basil visit his breeder some evenings this week while I come out here, but I miss him. Come here, Lexie. I need a Cavalier hug.”
When Lexie had completed licking Wanda’s cheeks, we located the set of keys Annie, the live-in sitter, had stashed for us, and Lexie and I left Wanda and Princess to their evening together till Annie returned.
We were on the freeway, on our way home, when my cell phone rang. I used the hands-free gadgetry to answer, hoping it was Dante.
It wasn’t. In fact, it was difficult to hear exactly who it was, thanks to the loud siren shrieking in the background.
“Kendra?” shouted a voice—female, I figured. That was soon confirmed. “This is Matilda Hollins. I . . . I don’t want to call the police. Not yet. But I thought you, as a lawyer and investigator . . . well, could you come to my house right away? I think someone has broken in.”
Chapter Twenty
AS I’D SOMEWHAT anticipated, Dr. Matilda Hollins lived in Eagle Rock, the same area as her office was located—the easier to deal with emergencies. What I hadn’t expected was her home’s almost Victorian look—not huge, yet turreted and somewhat ornate, set off the street behind a decorative metal fence. Though it was turning twilight, I could still appreciate the pretty green lawn with a walk lined with low bushes. Charming, as befit a shrink whose practice was entirely veterinary. A Dr. Doolittle kind of feel to it.
After parking, I looked around. And listened. No sound of a security system’s siren, at least not now. I heard a couple of dogs barking nearby. No other cars drove by along this side street near Eagle Rock Boulevard. All appeared serene—except for Lexie leaping around the car in excitement because we’d stopped. She obviously hoped for a walk. At least there was no sign of the break-in that had terrified Matilda, but I’d be careful—especially with Lexie along.
I exited the car, my pup’s leash in my hand, and slowly opened the gate.
As we inched up the walk while I looked around and listened, the front door opened and Matilda emerged. She was alone. Lexie lunged in her direction as a black cat scooted behind her in the doorway. I held Lexie’s leash taut and she settled down while remaining alert.
Matilda’s smile appeared forced. All color had drained from her round face, which looked nearly as pale as her bleached blonde hair. She wore a nice yellow shirt tucked into navy slacks, not as dressy as oncamera but not especially casual for an evening at home. Of course, she might have worn this outfit to her office and not had a chance to change upon arriving home to find her security alarm screaming.
“Kendra, thanks for coming.” She stopped in front of us on the walkway. “I apologize, though. Guess I keep panicking after what happened to Sebastian. I’ve been on edge, which isn’t surprising. But I checked inside, and everything’s fine. I might just have set the alarm this morning without making sure all doors were firmly closed. My kitty, Midnight, may have pushed one open and set off the alarm.”
Sounded possible.
But I still felt there’d been more behind Matilda’s previous panic and otherwise odd behavior than was warranted by an accidental tripping of an alarm.
“Is your system hooked up to a security company?” I asked. “Did anyone call to make sure you’re all right?”
Her shrug told the story before her words. “I have only an alarm,” she said. “The neighbors around here are nice, and would call 911 if they thought the alarm wasn’t a false one.”
I slowly scanned the neighborhood. Couldn’t tell if anyone was home—or if they’d choose to get involved if they were. I supposed I had to take Matilda at her word.
“Then you didn’t call the police yourself?” I asked. She certainly had sounded terrified when she’d called me. I pulled my cell phone from my purse. “It wouldn’t hurt even after the fact, in case there’s something you’ve overlooked.”
“No need to bother them,” she said somewhat stiffly.
“Then you don’t think a fan of
Animal Auditions
tried to break into the house of one of our nicest judges for a souvenir?” I kept my tone light, but the small amount of color still in her complexion drained away. Or maybe that was partly because daylight had continued to wane and streetlights had gone on behind me, washing out Matilda’s hue even more.
“Of course not,” she said, “although I’ve half expected someone to show up at my front gate with a trained dog or other pet to try an end run to get on the show.” She was obviously attempting a joke, so I played along.
“Well, I happen to have brought my brilliant dog, Lexie,” I said. “Lexie, sit.” My adorable Cavalier actually obeyed. Guess she’d given up attempting to see Matilda’s cat inside the house.
Matilda laughed. “I hope to see her around the set. But, seriously, Kendra, I apologize again for calling you; I’m fine. So’s my home. No need to worry about this anymore. I’ll see you at the next filming—our first official dog scenario on Friday, right?”
“That’s my understanding,” I agreed.
“Thanks for coming so quickly to my rescue. Good night, Lexie.” Matilda knelt to give my pup a pat. “Good night, Kendra.” No pat for me, thank heavens—just a half wave. And then she hurried into the house.

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