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Authors: Linda O. Johnston

BOOK: Never Say Sty
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Leaving me standing there and wondering why she hadn’t invited me in, even for a minute.
Was there something she hadn’t wanted me to see?
 
 
LEXIE AND I stopped for fast food on the way home. For me—not her. Even if I dined at times on stuff that could clog my arteries, I wouldn’t do that to my dearest companion. She would get specially prepared dog food when we got home.
Although I’d inevitably save a taste for her. . . .
After we made our way along the drive-thru line, my cell phone sang. I shoved the button for my hands’-free gadget and said hello.
“Kendra? It’s Esther.”
“So Ned’s been in contact again? I knew he felt uncomfortable as a potential suspect, and his former colleagues were on his case again at our filming today.”
“They want Nita and him to come in for further interrogation tomorrow,” Esther said. “Anything useful you can tell me—like your opinion on who’s really guilty here?”
“I wish,” I said as I pulled my car onto our street and headed up the hill. “But it’s really silly to consider Ned a suspect. Nita, too.” I hoped. “What’s their motivation? Revenge for on-air ridicule of their pet pigs?”
“People have killed for less, as you know, Kendra,” Esther said softly. “I’ll defend them with all I’ve got, although of course I’ll warn them that if their interests start diverging, I’ll need to withdraw from representing at least one of them. Since you think they’re innocent, that goes a long way in convincing me, too. Not that it entirely matters. I’d have taken their case even if I thought them guilty; even the worst rats deserve a good defense.”
“Their pets are pigs,” I teased her, “not rats.”
“Got it.”
I thought for a second how to phrase what I wanted to say. “Regarding diverging interests—you might want to confirm that neither truly suspects the other.”
After a contemplative pause, Esther inquired, “You think that’s the case?”
“Unlikely,” I said, “but it’s something to consider.”
I soon said goodbye and pushed the button to open our front gate. I touched base with Rachel about the day’s pet-sitting. Tomorrow’s, too. The outside lights were on, so Lexie and Beggar got in their last rambunctious romp of the evening. And then I went inside, wanting to veg out before bed.
When I checked my e-mail, I’d gotten one from Althea, with attachments. She hadn’t yet researched all the new people I’d requested, but she’d sent some interesting info on Sebastian Czykovski and his known friends and foes—at least known to her after her computer research both licit and illicit. They included not only agility cronies, but also his ex-wife.
And what was absolutely interesting was that said ex happened to be a store manager.
At a HotPets.
 
 
“CONSIDER THE SOURCE,” I said to Lexie a short while later.
She was paying utter attention to me, her sweet black nose on my lap, and her fuzzy black-and-white tail wagging wildly.
Not because she was fascinated by my fractured logic. No, I’d fed her a doggy food dinner and was now engulfing my own hamburger and fries. That left Lexie in the role of abject and adorable beggar.
I didn’t intend to encourage bad habits like begging at the table. But I ate while sitting on my living room sofa, TV news on in the background. She was begging on the floor. I saved some choice but teensy morsels for her, awful human that I am.
But I also allowed my mind to wander. Jeff Hubbard knew of Dante DeFrancisco’s involvement with
Animal Auditions
. He knew how important that show was to me. He knew that Dante was of importance, too. He’d encouraged me to use his greatest information resource, Althea. Could he have planted this data for her to dig out?
Hell, that was a stretch. Jeff’s alleged intention, that is. I could verify the truth easily enough.
And even assuming Sebastian’s ex was employed by Dante, that still didn’t mean she killed the guy. Or conspired with her boss to do so.
As I finished eating and continued pondering, my cell phone rang. I checked caller ID.
It was Dante.
“Hi,” I answered much too perkily.
“What’s wrong, Kendra?” he asked, obviously recognizing something off in my tone.
I tucked my feet underneath me, attempting to convince myself to be casual. “Nothing,” I lied. Well, fibbed. There really wasn’t anything wrong, was there?
“Okay, let’s assume that’s correct. What’s going on that causes that too-cute tone in your voice?”
“Well . . . I just found out some interesting information.” I wondered all of a sudden why the media hadn’t picked up on it. This connection wouldn’t exactly be confidential—would it?
“Which is . . . ?”
“Sebastian Czykovski’s ex-wife—”
“Is a manager at a HotPets,” he finished. “I only recently learned the connection.”
“How?” I asked, sure it wasn’t the same way I had. And was he lying anyway? How long had he known? Had he tried to hide it? Why?
“Long story.” Which he obviously wasn’t going to reveal. “Let’s just say that Brody has his sources.” Oh. Did he hack, too? “And, yes, I’ve met her, but I don’t know her well. I have staff members who choose and manage the managers.” Dante gave a huge sigh into the phone. “I still wish you’d back off and let other people look into this, Kendra,” he said. “Even more, I wish I was with you right now, looking into your gorgeous blue eyes while I try again to convince you. But that would be futile. So, I’m convinced we need to work together on this.” I’d opened my mouth to insert a comment, but he didn’t stop long enough for me to interrupt. “Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll make some calls tonight, then get in touch with you first thing tomorrow to tell you the time.”
“Time for what?”
“For you to join me at the Long Beach HotPets store to meet the former Mrs. Sebastian Czykovski.”
Chapter Twenty-one
WHEN I HUNG up, my heart rate hammered in anticipation of meeting Sebastian’s ex, not to mention a personalized visit to a HotPets—oh, yeah, and seeing Dante.
It was nearly ten o’clock. That was the time the Jeongs’ live-in pet-sitter was due home, so Wanda could leave Princess’s company for the evening and go home to her Cavalier, Basil.
With Lexie on my lap as I sat on the sofa, I called Wanda’s cell. “It worked out fine, Kendra,” she told me. “I had a good time with that sweet Princess. I’ll bring Basil and do it again a couple more evenings this week when Annie will be late.”
“Did you meet the nasty neighbor?” I inquired.
“Once, briefly, when I walked Princess just before dark. The woman made a point to come out and say something snide about Princess’s shrieking. She mentioned that a conversation between her attorney and the Jeongs’ is long overdue. Better yet, a court appearance. I tried to get her talking, involved in a nice, neighborly conversation, and she almost bit—but then she started complaining again. I wanted to say something especially nasty, but I held my tongue—this time. Anyhow, good night, Kendra. And now that I know where Princess lives, I’ll be glad to pick her up at Doggy Indulgence on the evenings I’ll be watching her, if you can bring her in the mornings.”
“Excellent!” I said. “Do you know where Doggy Indulgence is?”
“Sure. Annie will be home tomorrow evening, and she has a friend looking in on Princess during the day, so our next round of Princess-pampering isn’t till Wednesday. Talk to you then.”
 
 
IT WAS TUESDAY, early afternoon. I’d driven down the Long Beach Freeway to the HotPets where I was to join Dante in a discussion with Sebastian Czykovski’s ex-wife.
Just before I left, I’d finally gotten a return call from the attorney representing the Jeongs’ nasty neighbors. The guy sounded as crazy as his clients, making all sorts of damage claims he intended to insert into the complaint he was drafting. Unless, of course, we came up with the perfect solution to placate those
poor people who kept losing sleep because of that awful, shrieking dog
—his description, not mine.
We agreed on a time to meet the following week. I was even cordial enough to capitulate when he suggested his office as the site. And I all but slammed down the phone. That was adding insult to Princess’s injurious loneliness. The Jeongs would be back the end of next week, but even if I could get this obviously litigation-minded lawyer to lay off now, it would at best be a temporary solution.
I’d suggest that my clients find Princess a beautiful boarding situation next time they left town—despite their earlier assertions that she became utterly depressed at such locales. But the problem also occurred when they were in the area but out of their house. Perpetual pet-sitters? Maybe. At least there were probably acceptable doggy day care facilities closer to them than Darryl’s.
Enough of that for now. I opened the door to my rental car that I was determined would leave my life soon, and looked at the exterior of this HotPets.
It sat in a nice urban strip mall, surrounded by complementary stores: a supermarket that catered more to people; a drugstore; a couple of fast-food restaurants.
HotPets seemed the second hugest, after the grocery store. It had several entrances, including one especially for the adjoining grooming facility.
Some people left just as I was entering, one holding a beautiful boxer’s leash, and the other hugging a Yorkie. I wished I hadn’t left Lexie at Darryl’s. She would have adored this outing.
Inside, I discovered that Dante hadn’t made that mistake. Wagner sat obediently beside him, no leash reminding him that he needed to be on his best behavior. Of course, the owner could get away with breaking the leash rule posted at the door.
Dante stood near the row of check stands, speaking earnestly with a short woman with medium brown, curly hair who regarded him as if he was a god.
Well, hell, most women looked at Dante that way. Even so, I suspected that this one was the store manager, wanting to earn brownie points with the company’s CEO.
Not to mention flirt with one darkly handsome dude.
As I approached, he seemed to sense me even though he faced the other way. He turned and shot me the sexiest welcoming smile I’d ever seen. Which reminded me of our previous bedroom encounter. And made me wonder when I’d get more.
Cool it, Kendra
. I wasn’t here to pant over Dante. I was on a mission to help Ned Noralles by soliciting information on murder suspects.
“Hi, Dante,” I said, then turned to the woman he was with. “I’m Kendra Ballantyne. Are you the store manager?” No need to belt her immediately with belligerent innuendoes or accusations. After all, she might have parted quite amicably from Sebastian and have had absolutely no motive to dispose of her ex. I’d heard of a few marriages that dissolved that way.
Very few.
“Hi, Kendra,” she said in an utterly friendly voice. She was dressed professionally in a pantsuit and incredibly skinny stiletto heels. “How can I make your shopping experience at HotPets outstanding?”
She was really buttering up the boss by behaving that way. But I decided to disabuse her of her impression that I was a customer with a complaint.
“I love these stores,” I said warmly and truthfully, darting a sidelong glance at Dante. “Especially the ones closer to my home in the San Fernando Valley. I’m not here to complain. Or shop. Did Dante tell you? We want to talk to you about your ex-husband, Sebastian Czykovski.”
I’d kept my voice relatively low, but wasn’t surprised to see her blanch and glance around to ensure no one had heard.
“How on earth did you find that out? I’ve kept it secret.” The hiss in her voice sounded almost feral. Frightened. “Come into my office. Please.”
Without waiting to see if we agreed, she turned and stalked in those high heels to the rear of the crowded store. Dante took his place behind me as we followed, and I felt his fingers touch my shoulders as if to steer me through the people, products, and pets filling the aisles between shelves filled with the greatest of pet delights.
Or maybe just to make physical contact with me. Which I didn’t exactly mind.
And Wagner? As always, that brilliant German shepherd stayed close to his master’s side.
The woman led us into a bright hallway beyond a door that closed automatically behind us. She entered the farthest office and stood at its entrance, glowering until we, too, came inside. Then she slammed the door.
“Okay,” she said. “Now, answer my question. How did you learn I was once married to Sebastian?” She motioned Dante and me to uncomfortable-looking seats lining one wall of the room and yanked another to face us, placing her back to her messy desk. Wagner lay down at Dante’s feet.
“I’m an attorney who’s assisting one of the alleged suspects in Sebastian’s untimely death,” I said, my statement full of euphemisms. “I’m trying to find out all I can about him before he joined the
Animal Auditions
show as a judge, which is when I met him.” I didn’t directly address her inquiry, and I wasn’t about to inform her that I was good buddies with a computer hacker. And Dante’s knowledge of her background was from an entirely different source, perhaps even her employment records.

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