The More the Terrier (11 page)

“They do as long as their arguments were around the time of the murder,” Brooke amended.

“True. Anyway, anything you can learn would be helpful.”

I called Mamie a while later, just to say hi. She sounded sad but was able to hold a relatively normal conversation, perking up for only a moment as I told her about how her animals were doing.

“Mr. Caramon is putting together the paperwork for me to surrender them.” I heard her sob.

“This is so wonderful of you, Mamie,” I said. “The animals would thank you if they could.”

She had little to say after that, so I ended the call.

Matt came by around six o’clock. Nina had already left, as had many of our volunteers. Pete Engersol was still around, helping the remaining volunteers serve dinner to our residents.

And, yes, the family Nina had mentioned earlier had come in and fallen for one of the toy dogs in our center building, a little Maltipoo—a mix between a Maltese and a poodle. Their answers and paperwork had seemed impeccable, but they promised to come back to be interviewed by me before taking home their probable new family member.

“Can I see Shazam?” Matt asked after Zoey and I greeted him in our welcome area. He’d called me on my cell to let me know he was here. We walked him through the shelter area right away to the enclosure where our newest arrival, the sweet-tempered Doberman, was hanging out. Shazam reveled in the attention and the petting we both lavished on him.

“Okay if I feed this guy?” Pete Engersol asked. “He’s next on my list.”

“You found him, didn’t you?” Matt asked.

“Joint effort.” Our handyman nodded at me.

“Sure, go ahead and feed him,” I told Pete. “Still no indication of who left him in our parking lot?”

“Nope, but I’d like to meet them sometime.” Pete’s expression was grim. He was always such a nice guy, but I sensed he wanted to wring the abandoner’s neck.

He could stand in line behind me. At least whoever it was should have had the guts to dump the poor dog in person.

“But he’ll be okay here,” Pete went on, his eyes on Matt as if daring him to say we had to turn Shazam over to a city shelter.

“Good thing he was an owner relinquishment,” Matt said with a nod. Pete visibly relaxed.

I felt pretty good about it myself.

A short while later, Matt and I sat at a table in a local British pub. We both had ordered beer and shepherd’s pie.

He’d followed me home first, and I’d left Zoey. Matt would drive me back when we’d finished our dinner and drinks.

“So you and Gavin got along okay?”

I hadn’t so informed Matt, which meant he’d undoubtedly spoken with the trainer. “Remains to be seen, but I think we reached an understanding. I liked his technique, and his attitude. We’ll see if he works out.”

We chatted about the pet rescuers who’d met up with me at the Northeast Valley care facility earlier, and Mamie’s soon-to-be-former wards.

We also talked about Mamie. “Have you heard anything about what’s going on with her?” Matt asked.

I told him about our earlier conversation. “She’s inching closer to signing documents to surrender the animals, even with everything else going on with her.”

“I hope, for your sake, that she’s innocent,” Matt said.

“My sake?”

“You seem to be taking her on as a cause, Lauren. That’s one of the things I like about you. Especially when your cause is animals. But people are okay, too.”

I smiled at him. He smiled back.

“The food’s pretty good here,” I said, taking a bite of the rich shepherd’s pie.

“The company’s even better,” Matt replied, keeping his eyes on mine.

I’m not the kind of person who blushes, but I felt my cheeks redden. “I can’t argue about that,” I said. I straightened in my chair. “I enjoy trying out different places to eat, especially with you. We seem to have similar tastes.”

“In a lot of things,” he agreed.

I thought about what Brooke had said earlier, implying that I might bribe Matt with my middle-aged body to secure the release of some of the hoarded animals faster.

But there were no strings attached when, after Matt drove me home, I found myself in his arms—and he found himself in my bed. Definitely not for the first time since we’d met a few months earlier.

And, I hoped, not for the last.

Chapter 14

Matt left around eleven o’clock. I wouldn’t have minded if he’d stayed the night, but I was okay with it this way.

He had to go home to take care of Rex. And I had to stay here and think—more than I wanted to—about where we were going with this growing relationship. If it was, in fact, a relationship. I pondered it while I lay in bed, alone, before falling asleep.

As I considered often, I’d been married twice. My dear Kerry had died when the kids were young. My second husband was a disaster. Charles Earles had no interest in my children, only in accessing my already meager bank account—to help pay for his flings with younger women. Our divorce had been a huge relief, in more ways than one.

And now there was Matt. He’d made no demands, but he’d started being there for me when I’d needed guidance regarding the official L.A. Animal Services system. Plus, he’d found the perfect rescue dog for me—Zoey.

He hung around for dinner and drinks and some fooling around that took my breath away—even though, initially, I hadn’t wanted even that, despite how tempted I’d felt. Now, I lay there in bed, wondering. I guessed it was okay. I wasn’t leading him on. As we spent more time together, I’d been honest with Matt, that as attracted as I was to him, I wasn’t looking for a deep, meaningful relationship.

I’d had that with Kerry. I know logically that there’s no loyalty required to a dead man, even my husband. Kerry would probably have wanted me to find someone to care about in his absence. And I had come to care for Matt. More each time I was with him.

But I wasn’t looking for something permanent. Not now. Not ever. Probably.

Somehow, I finally drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, I arrived early at HotRescues. When I let Zoey out of the car, I watched her with some trepidation. Had another pet been abandoned on our property?

But Zoey didn’t pull on her leash as we walked to the side door to the main building. All was well, at least for now.

No one was in the welcome area, which wasn’t a surprise at this hour.

Zoey and I took our first walk through the shelter. Our presence caused some of the dogs to bark in greeting, and to let their unofficial pack know the area had been invaded—even though, by now, they surely recognized the scents of both Zoey and me.

We ran into Pete Engersol nearly immediately. He always arrived early and stayed late. He considered it his responsibility to make sure all our residents were well fed, and I didn’t suggest otherwise. Instead, I relied on him.

“Good morning, Lauren,” he called from the far end of the main pathway. “Everything okay with you?”

“Sure thing.” I joined him. “Is Brooke still here?”

“No, she left about the time I arrived.”

I heard a hammering noise from the adjoining property. “Sounds like the contractors are already at work.”

“Yep, I saw them, too, when I got here. The guy in charge said they’re putting finishing touches on the exterior and working on the interior today. He said they should be finished there soon and ready to take on the remodel of the center building.” He nodded toward the structure near where we stood.

“I hope so. I’ll be glad when we’re all done.” Which I knew would be soon, thanks to Dante’s paying a lot to make sure the construction would be accomplished fast and right.

“We all will,” Pete said. “Got to get back to our hungry horde now.” He hurried toward the rear storage building where all the food was kept.

I kept going around our outside enclosure area, then into the back door of the center building where Zoey and I could check in on the cats and toy dogs. Finally, we returned to my office.

My BlackBerry was ringing, and I dragged it out of my purse, which I’d shoved into a drawer. It was Mamie’s number.

“Hi, Mamie.” I sat as I answered. I watched Zoey do a circling gig on the rug beneath my desk, then lie down, obviously not interested in the conversation.

Silence for a few moments. “I just will never get used to these modern things, like you seeing my number on your phone and knowing it’s me.”

“I kind of like it,” I said lightly. “How are you doing?” Like, have you signed papers to relinquish the animals? Are the cops still questioning you? Have they said your arrest is imminent?

“I’m okay, I guess. But Mr. Caramon tells me that we have to go back to the police station. The detectives have said they want to talk to me again.”

I wanted to advise her not to say anything they could misinterpret as a confession or could otherwise use against her, but she had Mr. Caramon for that.

“Interesting,” I said. “Be sure to let me know how it goes.”

“Then you’re still trying to help me, Lauren?” Her voice had perked up into what sounded like utter relief.

“There’s not a lot I can do, Mamie. But if you have any more ideas about who could have killed Bethany and why, you be sure to tell the cops, and let me know, too.”

I’d said that before, in different iterations. But I still sometimes felt as if I was talking to a grumpy and forgetful child when I spoke with Mamie. Maybe she wasn’t as psychologically fragile as I believed . . . but she had been a hoarder, and she clearly wasn’t a normal, sane human being—assuming such creatures even existed.

“Okay,” she said.

After another pause, I asked, “Did you get the paperwork yet for giving up the animals?”

“Yes.” She sounded despondent. “It came by messenger this morning and I signed it.”

“Great!” I exclaimed. “You’re super, Mamie.” More silence. “So . . . did you call for any particular reason, or just to say hi?”

“Oh . . . There was a reason.” Her tone had become hard. “Only . . . I don’t want to talk about it now. Bye, Lauren.” She hung up.

What had that been about? Would I ever be able to read Mamie’s ephemeral moods?

All that ambivalence that had been rocking me lately once again shot through my mind. I’m not an ambivalent person. I always take a stand. And yet, helping Mamie was driving me nuts.

I wished I could drop the whole idea, but I knew myself better than that. I had taken this on as a responsibility and wouldn’t stop until I knew the truth—no matter what Mamie’s attitude was.

For now, I assumed that Brooke, after catching up on sleep, would get in touch if and when she had any information on Bethany’s exes or her last boyfriend.

Meantime, I had to do something positive toward finding Bethany’s killer—for my sake almost as much as for Mamie’s. I decided to do what I always did with problems, how I kept track of all of our rehomings and all other administrative details.

I would come up with a detailed plan—as I had not long ago when I’d been the one suspected of committing a murder. In fact, I would use that investigative plan as a model.

At that time, I’d started with an organizational chart and added information, as I’d found it, about other potential suspects. It had worked to help me clear myself.

It would also help me look into Bethany’s murder and figure out whether unpredictable Mamie was guilty . . . and, if not, who was.

I booted up my now-ancient desktop computer. We’d been friends since I helped to start HotRescues six years ago, and though I could have talked Dante into funding a newer one, I didn’t want it. I had Internet access, and I had usable word processing and accounting programs. That was enough.

I opened, then copied, the main file I’d made. I went through it and cleared out all the items relating to the other murder and its suspects. Oh, did that bring back memories. Not that I’d forgotten that really awful time. It had only been a few months ago. But now that it was over, I’d stopped focusing on it and gone on with my life.

I started the plan with a brief description of Bethany, what I knew about her and her businesses. About her officiousness that had so grated on me, and her egotistically bragging about stopping Mamie’s hoarding. I added what I recalled about her actually quite helpful program on hoarding, and Mamie’s appearance there.

Then I started subfiles on everyone whose names I remembered from that night: Mamie, of course, and Cricket and Darya and a few others. I’d get the rest from Cricket, if she decided to cooperate. If not . . .

I didn’t actually have to wait, as it turned out. I Googled Pet Shelters Together and found the Web site that had been created for Bethany’s network. It mentioned about a dozen pet rescue organizations besides Better Than Any Pet Rescues and provided links to their Web sites.

It was easy enough to find out who their respective administrators were. But on the main PST site, there were all sorts of testimonials about Bethany, attributed to each of the other administrators. Would any of them have had a reason to hurt her?

Maybe, maybe not. But even if they didn’t, each might have other suggestions about who could have hated her that much.

I’d finish devising the beginnings of my plan today. And then the first person I would call would be the new administrator of both of Bethany’s organizations—Cricket.

But before I got very far, my BlackBerry rang again. It was Matt.

“How are you today?” he asked first thing, and the sweet gruffness of his voice reminded me of last night.

“Full of happy memories,” I said.

“Which we’ll add to one of these nights soon,” he said with a laugh. “But I need to talk business with you now.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing you can’t help with. Mamie’s lawyer called to say he has the signed document for her surrender of the animals. Their relinquishment will be official today. I’ve gotten word that some of the animals will be available tomorrow for private rescuers to take in.”

“Are they in immediate danger?” My tone must have reflected my concern, since Zoey sat up and put her head on my lap. I petted her distractedly as I waited for Matt’s response.

“No, but unless you hear otherwise from me, you and any others you choose should come to the Northeast Valley Animal Care Center tomorrow afternoon to pick up the first batch.”