Nonstop Spaniels Part 5

"We've had major contributions lately, and not from the veterinary practice?" That was Mort's question, and he looked angry.

"Ia"er, Dr. Ideman was in charge of that," Spencer said.

"But you just said you knew it all," I reminded him. "Where did that money go?"

"I don't . . . It wasn't . . ." He pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at it. "Sorry, like I said, I have to go. We can talk about this later, but I really don't have much to tell you. I just crunched the numbers that were there."

Okay, maybe it was premature, since I hadn't seen Antonio arrive, but I decided it was time to press.

As I looked toward the open kitchen door, though, I saw a uniformed cop standing there already. Apparently, Dante had gotten word to Antonio quickly, and my detective friend had sent a preliminary contingent of whatever officer happened to be in the area just to make sure all was well. Or not. Maybe, since PetForYou was already on the police radar, the authorities remained on standby in the area. I'd ask Antonio when I could.

But no matter why the cavalry had arrived so fast, I could do what I wanted with some degree of safety.

Following up on the accountant's words, I said, "I have a feeling, though, Spencer, that you also crunched Dr. Ideman." I heard the collective gasp in the room and saw Ellie start to rise, then sink back into her chair. "Rather, you stabbed him. Is that true?"

Apparently Spencer had been preparing for an accusation, or at least a way to fight back if anyone tried to stop his pending departure. He obviously knew the layout of the kitchen, since suddenly he was standing near the sink. He opened a nearby drawer and extracted not a scalpel this time, but a large, vicious-looking knife with a serrated blade, perhaps one that was used to slice meat for animals or humans.

"I think we have an answer," I said. As he lunged toward me, wielding it, the cop and a couple of others who'd been behind him dashed into the room.

"Drop it," the first one said. All had their guns raised and pointed toward Spencer.

The accountant looked around frantically as if begging help from Ellie or anyone else here. Or maybe he was looking for an exit or some other way of saving himself from arrest.

But unsurprisingly seeing none, he knelt, put the knife on the floor, and started weeping. "I didn't mean it," he cried. "But he . . . I . . ."

I started breathing again, no longer in danger. One of the cops started reciting his rights to him, and Spencer shut up.

That was when someone else appeared in the doorway. "Hi, everyone," he said uncertainly. He looked geekish, and that was confirmed when he said, "I'm Howard. My office isn't far from here, and Dante DeFrancisco asked me to come right away to conduct an audit. And since it was Dante, I dropped everything, and . . . Is this a good time?"

I couldn't help it. I started to laugh, partly out of sheer joy that all was under control, and partly because of the comic relief provided by Howard.

The board members joined in.

All except a crying Ellie.

Chapter 9.

I didn't hear much over the next few daysa"except what was in the media. And what the overzealous reporters thought they'd learned might be only somewhat accurate, if at all.

The good thing was that there was a general consensus that a suspect was under arrest, and that person's name was Spencer Quivara.

Not Ricki Robard. The vet tech student, our volunteer, was in the clear, and I was delighted.

While my curiosity burned about the hows and whys of the situation, things went great, as usual, at HotRescues. For one thing, I approved Warren Bartt's adoption of Ivo, and he couldn't have been nicera"even when I informed him that I knew the finances of PetForYou were being audited but I wasn't being kept in that loop.

"That's okay," he told me as we sat in the HotRescues welcome area while he finished signing our forms. "I'll check with the shelter when things have had a chance to settle down. But I did achieve the most important thing by my donation." He glanced down. Ivo was on the floor at his feet, staring at his soon-to-be new master, love and trust just beaming out of the Brittany spaniel mix's eyes.

It was going to be a good rehoming. I was sure of it. And we also had applications in on two of the other PetForYou dogs and one of the cats, too, already.

I doubted we'd be taking any more animals in from that shelter, since Ellie kept me informed about her contacts with NKLA and the process she had begun to have PetForYou join the coalition. She was distraught about Spencer but was apparently throwing herself wholeheartedly into her new responsibilities at the shelter her grandfather had founded.

Another really good thing? We adopted out Shasta, the little c.o.c.ker spaniel who'd needed Ricki's ministrations to remove the cat toy from her throat.

And Ricki? She still was spending a lot of time volunteering at HotRescues, but she also kept me informed that her advisor Frank Ellingsone was at least a little ashamed of how things had gone for her with PetForYou and his now-deceased buddy Dr. Dan Ideman.

One day, when we were both in the cat house changing the litter containers and playing with some of the kitties, Ricki thanked me yet again. She'd been doing that a lot since Spencer's arrest. "I don't know what I'd have done without you, Lauren." She looked relaxed in her HotRescues volunteer outfit.

"You'd have been fine," I a.s.sured her. "You were innocent."

"That doesn't mean I wouldn't have been arrested," she said, teasing a lion-toned kitty with a toy that resembled a feathery fish, of all things. As she leaned over, her dark ponytail slid forward, and the cat, whose name was Raja, took a swipe at it with her left paw. We both laughed.

"Will you still intern at the PetForYou veterinary clinic?" I asked.

"Frank is now looking for an even better situation for me," she said, smiling. "He told me that, after all I'd been through, I deserve it."

"You sure do," I agreed, and went back to playing with a black cat named Omni.

a a a As the time pa.s.sed, I kept in as close touch with Antonio as I could. I could hear the laughter in his tone a lot when I called him. He apparently found my frustration amusinga"which might have been why he didn't tell me much.

At least, not until he invited Matt and me to join Brooke and him for dinner on Sat.u.r.day night. Our dogs were invited, too.

It wasn't the first time this group had gotten together for what appeared to be a double date. We chose a nice steak joint not far from HotRescuesa"one that, of course, had an outside eating area so the dogs were welcome. That was generally our number one criterion when we decided to try a new restaurant.

This place had a reputation, though, of being a little more formal than our usual hangouts, so the guys had both worn nice s.h.i.+rts and sport coats. I hadn't had time to return home to change, but I always kept a snazzier outfit at HotRescues, just in case. I wore slacks, but a dressier pair than usual, and a blouse also with a jacket over it. Brooke was most appropriately clad in a slinky black dress, and I watched Antonio's dark eyes as they stared at her appreciatively.

Three dogs accompanied us, since Matt had taken the time to go home for Rex and his change of clothes. Brooke's Cheyenne and my Zoey sat at our feet on the concrete patio. None of them seemed inclined to lie down yet in the crowded eating area, since there were lots of people around us whose food had been served, so doggy noses remained happily in the air.

We'd given our orders and were sipping on wine from a bottle that Antonio had selected for the table. All our discussion had been small talk, and I was getting antsy.

"Okay," I finally said to Antonio. "Tell us what's going on, Detective." I a.s.sumed it was good stuff, or he wouldn't have ordered such a nice wine.

"I was wondering how long it would take for you to start pus.h.i.+ng me," he said, smiling.

Brooke nudged him with her shoulder in gentle rebuke. I, in turn, glanced toward Matt, whose expression was amused. And when Matt looked amused, his great-looking features got even more handsome. And s.e.xy. I suddenly looked forward to some alone time later.

After we got some answers.

Antonio took a sip of wine. Since he was a cop, I'd have expected him to order hard liquor or beer instead, but he didn't fit into any kind of mold. "Here's what's going on," he finally said.

Murder suspect Spencer Quivara remained in police custody, without bail. He continued to give the impression of being a young guy who got in over his head when he started trying to help his girlfriend Ellie out at PetForYou.

On the other hand, he didn't really have to do more than help with bookkeeping. If he'd been genuine, he would have reported to the board about how Dr. Dan Ideman was stealing a lot of the shelter's donations for his own use. Apparently Ideman thought he was ent.i.tled since a percentage of the veterinary clinic's profits also went to support the rescue facility.

Spencer had apparently been shocked at first, but Ideman had gotten him over it by giving him a percentage of everything the vet stole.

But Spencer's conscience eventually began to kick him in the gut, especially as he was preparing to ask Ellie to marry him. He'd told Ideman he wanted out.

The vet hadn't exactly been thrilled. He'd apparently worried that Spencer would tell all to the board, and they'd both be arresteda"only Spencer, by turning on him, might get off free.

Ideman told Spencer he would be the one to go to the boarda"but he wouldn't confess. No, he'd fix things first so it would appear that Spencer, who'd been in charge of the bookkeeping for nearly a year, had been the one to engage in all the thievery and make it look like the innocent vet, who'd only wanted to help animals, had been framed.

In the ensuing argument, Spencer had grabbed one of the scalpels at the veterinary clinica"after donning sterile gloves. Heat of the moment? Maybe. But there was at least some degree of premeditation, too.

"At least that's the department's speculation at this point, and there's enough evidence to start the criminal process against the guy," Antonio finished. "He didn't exactly admit all that, but he's been having a hard time denying ita"and he does have a good lawyer who has gotten him to invoke his Fifth Amendment rights against self-incrimination even when he's asked simple questions, like does he like to drink wine." Antonio took another sip just as our entrees were served.

I asked a few questions, but Antonio had told us what I'd hoped to learn. "Is it okay for me to tell Ricki?" was my main inquiry.

"Sure, as long as you make it clear that, like all defendants, Quivara is innocent until proven guilty in a court of law and all that."

I'd already undergone my regular scolding from Matt, but when I again, on prodding, described how I'd gotten my own near-confession from Spencer, he once more told me I should have called him. Better yet, I shouldn't have been involved with yet another murder investigation.

"You're right," I told him, and in atonement invited Rex and him home with me again that night.

Heck, I'd have invited them anyway. And enjoyed all Matt and I did into the wee hours.

And when he once more demanded that I never again get involved in a murder investigation, I a.s.sured him I wouldn't go looking for one. I appreciated his concern, even if I didn't like being told what to do.

But if another one came looking for me?

Well, on that I made no promises.

Though I did kiss Matt again . . . and again . . . for caring.

Keep reading for a special excerpt from Linda O. Johnston's next Pet Rescue Mystery . . .

TEACUP TURBULENCE.

Coming in paperback January 2014 from Berkley Prime Crime!

"But I was here first!" The senior lady with frizzy yellow hair stood in front of me on the crowded sidewalk. She placed her hands on her hips and looked up with her lower lip jutting belligerently.

I tried to smile, in case this woman was a better potential dog adopter than she initially seemed. "That never matters in pet adoptions. What's important is finding the right home for each of our wards."

That's my job. My pa.s.sion. I'm Lauren Vancouver, chief administrator of HotRescues, a wonderful shelter in L.A.'s San Fernando Valley.

"Well, I'd give the best home to Marvin," the woman said. "I'm sure of it." Now she sounded almost desperate.

We both turned to look at the long row of temporary wire enclosures that ran along the HotPets storefront behind us. Most contained dogs of all breeds and sizes. Farther away were crates that held cats.

I was happy to see lots of people staring into the fenced areas and crates, talking to the HotRescues staff and volunteers who'd come to help at this mobile adoption event, and petting leashed dogs brought out at an interested person's request. An occasional round of barks hid the happy exclamations of potential adopters.

The closest pen held the miniature pinscher Marvina"along with some medium-sized terriers and a French bulldog mix.

Beside me on the other side, Naya Fayler regarded me with a worried expression. "I don't want to cause you any trouble, Lauren," Naya said. "But I really love Marvin."

I'd gathered that. It was why I'd accompanied her and her husband Tom out here so quickly. I had sensed a pending adoption.

"And in fact, we were here first," Naya continued. "I filled out the application to adopt Marvin before we went inside to the party."

Naya appeared fiftyish, with short chestnut hair framing her face. Laugh lines crinkled at the edges of her blue eyes, but her skin was otherwise smooth and flawless, possibly the result of an excellent makeup job. She wore a dressy white tunic top over a long black skirt.

Tom stood talking with Bev, a senior, experienced HotRescues volunteer who had come along to help at this mobile event. Tom's hair had receded from his forehead a bit, and what was left was salt-and-pepper and short. He had wide cheeks and a broad smile revealing slightly yellowed teeth. He was the manager of the new subsidiary, HotPets Bling, and I had just met him and Naya at the party taking place in the store's back room to celebrate the HotPets empire's fifteenth anniversary.

Dante DeFrancisco, the company's owner, was also HotRescues' generous benefactor. After he'd introduced me to Naya and Tom, they'd told us about their immediate bonding with Marvin, and that's when I'd accompanied them outside.

Not that I generally liked to okay a same-day adoption. But Dante had vouched for them. And they clearly were animal lovers.

Bev had handed me the Faylers' adoption application that they'd filled out before. I, too, was dressed up, in a s.h.i.+mmering blue s.h.i.+rtwaist dress and low heelsa"very different from my usual HotRescues knit s.h.i.+rt, jeans, and athletic shoes.

I skimmed over the form, very aware of the still emotional woman at my other side. I had an idea how to handle her but needed to deal with this first.

Everything on the application seemed in order. The Faylers owned their home, had no other pets right nowa"they'd lost an aging dog a month agoa"and were empty nesters.

As I was, sort of. My daughter and son were away in college, although Kevin's school, Claremont McKenna College, wasn't too far from L.A.

I noticed something of particular interest. "You used to run your own pet grooming chain?" I asked.

"That's right," Tom said, joining us. "But we sold out a few years backa"nice profit, too, I might add. I already knew Dante from the pet industry, and he offered me a job with HotPets."

And under hobbies . . . "You fly a plane?" I'd seen all kinds of hobbies listed on our application, but this was the first time I'd seen that the potential adopters were pilots.

"Yesa"it helped us visit our grooming shops all over the western U.S. before. Now we just do it for fun."

All seemed fine. In fact, it was better than a lot of applications I reviewed and approved.

That was a relief, since I would have had a difficult time vetoing an adoption by an executive of HotPets.

But that woman remained at my side, eagerly awaiting my decision on Marvin. I motioned for her to join me, and we meandered toward the parking lot at the far side of the walkway.

"I'm really sorry," I lied. I'm seldom sorry about anything, and finding a great home for one of my shelter dogs was not something I ever regretted. "But there are extenuating circ.u.mstances beyond who saw Marvin first." I didn't need to explain that the Faylers had seen him first anyway. "Have you looked at any other dogs here?"

She shook her head sadly. "I just really liked him."