Double Dog Dare (23 page)

The first thing I noticed about Clark Weiss was his huge eyes magnified by his small, black-rimmed glasses. He stood behind his crowded but immaculately organized mahogany desk, and seemed almost scrawny in his baggy white shirt tucked into pale blue trousers.

“Hello, Ms. Ballantyne,” he said immediately. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

That caused me to blink in surprise. “From who?” I asked, complying with a wave from his long fingers to sit in the single, awkward-looking leather chair that faced his desk. To my surprise, it enveloped me quite comfortably.

“I’m interested in The Clone Arranger,” he answered obliquely. “I know what happened to Earl Knox from the news. And I’m aware of your involvement with the suspect, Lois Terrone.”

The guy might look rather ordinary in his nerdiness, but the look was clearly deceiving. He was alert, sharp . . . and potentially dangerous. I’d watch my step around him.

I was doing that around a lot of people lately, so he could join that list.

“Involvement isn’t exactly—” I began, only to be interrupted.

“Because of my interest, and the fact there’s reason, however tenuous, for authorities to consider me a suspect, I’ve dived right in to figure out everything I need to know about what happened. That means I’m aware you’ve solved murders before. I’ll tell you right off that it looks like I had reason to kill Earl, but I didn’t do it.”

I opened my mouth again to try to say something, but once more he stopped me from speaking with his own speech.

“You’ve learned somehow that I was mad at Earl. And I was for a while, I admit it, but not lately.”

“Why is that?” I couldn’t help asking.

“Let me tell you a little bit about us first,” Weiss said, settling further into his stiff-looking desk chair. “CW Ultra Technologies is, unsurprisingly, a company specializing in technology, the more offbeat the better. We have labs in various secret locations.”

“None right here?” I managed to inquire.

“This is an office building, Kendra,” he pointed out unnecessarily. “We mostly keep our management away from the front lines of research to let our scientists feel free to go in as many potentially fascinating—and lucrative— directions as possible.”

We
, I figured, meaning
him
.

“In any event, some of our medically oriented scientists got interested in cloning. Tried to find a way to make it work easily and inexpensively. Yes, yes, I know about the controversies surrounding cloning, but we didn’t let that stop us. We got going in some interesting directions. Put together a really nice protocol that seemed quite exciting, in fact—a whole lot of cloning potential. Earl was head of the team that included that group. He spent more time in the labs than we like our managers to do. And then he left CW. Went to work for The Clone Arranger, and suddenly they’re doing exactly what we intended, cloning pets. The timing pretty much clinched things. I was certain that Earl took our scientific breakthrough and sold it to that scum-bag outfit he started working for.”

“Then you
are
still angry,” I surmised.

Weiss’s open-mouthed smile occupied most of his face. “Not at all. Well, okay, maybe still less than thrilled, but after Earl left, my scientists took that little germ of an idea and started to really run with it. We’ve had a major breakthrough, in fact. By the end of this year, maybe middle of next, we’ll have a much superior method of cloning cheaply. And that’s where this is all going, you know. It’s entirely possible these days to clone animals at outrageous prices, but to make any money at it? Maybe you’re aware that one leading organization involved with cloning pets went out of business.”

I nodded and tried to comment, again to no avail.

“I don’t know the facts, but I surmise that it cost way too much, they had too few clients who could afford them, whatever. They were affiliated with another company that clones livestock, which is a great fit, because keeping up a good gene pool in production of animal food products can lead to lots of profits. Those clients are willing to pay a lot more than the folks who might want duplicates of Fido or Fifi in the future. Then there’s The Clone Arranger, not totally outrageous but still aiming for either high-middle incomes or above, or people who are willing to go into debt to duplicate their favorite pet. And then there’s us. Oh, I know it’s just talk right now, but soon I’ll achieve my mean-spirited little goal of putting The Clone Arranger out of business—not by suing them or killing their people, but by stealing their thunder. Cloning pets for affordable prices. The fact that Earl bounced out of here with some stuff he shouldn’t have? Irritating, sure, but ultimately irrelevant. Does that convince you I had no motive to kill Earl?”

“Well, he allegedly did steal from you in the first place.”

“If I intended to dispose of him for that, I’d have done it long before this. Now, anything else you’d like to know, Kendra?”

“I don’t think—”

“Well, if you have money to invest, you’ve come to the right place. We have some really exciting technologies coming up in addition to cloning that will make our investors fortunes—private equity money, so not much government interference. Interested?”

“You lost me when you asked if I have money to invest.”

“Oh.” That was the first thing that appeared to take the wind out of his overinflated sales pitch.

“But may I have your card and call you if I think of anything else?”

“Sure, Kendra. Anytime. And if any of your friends are interested in an exciting investment . . .”

“I’ll keep CW Ultra Technologies in mind, Clark.”

MY THOUGHTS TURNED slow and complicated somersaults as I headed back toward my office.

Oh, yeah, I remembered to check my mirrors for any new and dangerous entourage members on my tail. Didn’t see any, nor any protectors—which didn’t, of course, mean neither was there.

But I multitasked in my mind along with driving slowly and carefully. I rehashed all that CW had said.

His company had made cloning breakthroughs of its own but hadn’t yet implemented them.

Earl Knox had been right in the center of them, and then he left and joined The Clone Arranger.

The Clone Arranger’s breakthroughs were, in their way, astounding . . . weren’t they? Immediate reproduction of pets at high, but somewhat manageable, prices—better, I believed, than anyone else had accomplished so far in this limited market. But who knew what would happen when CW Ultra Technologies introduced their even newer processes?

Were The Clone Arranger’s successes wholly based on something Earl Knox had absconded with? And was Clark Weiss consequently lying about killing the thief? Or had he perhaps told the literal truth, yet known who committed the murder because he had commissioned it? Or at least sanctioned it?

I considered much of what he said on the way west to the office. And still wasn’t satisfied with what I knew—or suspected. But how could I find out more?

I eventually reached Encino and pulled once more into the busy parking lot outside the building that housed Yurick & Associates.

“Hi again, Kendra,” Mignon chirped as I slipped through the front door. “There’ve been more calls from the Hayhursts. I forwarded them to your voice mail.” She regarded me assessingly, with her large blue eyes beneath her bobbing auburn curls. “You look . . . well, better somehow. Are you feeling okay?”

“Well enough.” Uh-oh. Was I already starting to look less morose because I was aware of Jeff’s survival? I couldn’t let anyone know that yet. “I’m trying to get my mind curled around some stuff besides my troubles.”

“Oh, I get it,” she said, and I headed for my office.

On the way, I all but ran into my boss, the firm’s sweet senior partner, in the hall. As always, he was clad in an aloha shirt—bright red today, with birds of paradise adorning it. He peered at me over his bifocals. “You look—well, less awful today, Kendra. That’s good.”

“I’m trying to get over it, Borden,” I said. “Thanks for caring.” I gave him a hug, then sidled by. It was a wonderful thing to have so many people worried about me, but it also meant I had to exercise my acting abilities so they wouldn’t figure out how I really felt.

Assuming
I
could figure out how I really felt.

I headed into my cluttered office and sat down on my comfy, ergonomically correct chair. I had to admit to myself that somehow my depression of the past days was easing a bit.

Because of Jeff’s return? Sure, to some extent. But I also felt as if I was taking an active role in determining what really had happened. Now, if only I could actually figure it all out. . . .

I turned my desktop computer back on and waited for it to boot, determining what to research now. The logical thing came immediately to mind: I’d look at the CW Ultra Technologies website again.

I saw the now-familiar face of Clark Weiss smiling on several of the web pages, talking up how wonderful the company was, without saying much about what it did.

Very familiar. But he didn’t get into the supposed cloning technology, or its possible theft, online.

Well, then, the next place I headed was The Clone Arranger’s website. I’d been there before, too, of course. But this time I searched for something specific. Sort of. Something that might help me determine whether some of their technology had originated elsewhere.

Yeah, right. As with most websites, this one was designed for the best possible promotion. Nothing specific was said about the cloning process, only that it was one of the most sophisticated used anywhere, which allowed them to keep costs more reasonable than most competitors. Competitors? Heck, according to them, there were none anywhere within reach. The Clone Arranger ruled!

Sure it did. Even so . . .

I looked over the testimonials from satisfied clients. Unsurprisingly, Beryl Leeds was there with her golden Labs, daddy Churchill and clone Cartwright. Nothing yet about the latest procedure with chocolate Lab Melville, but that might yet follow. And hadn’t she mentioned pending infomercials?

There were other clone endorsements, too. I didn’t recognize the humans, but their pets clearly were adorably duplicated: a couple of standard poodles. Some Shih Tzus. A pair of pit bulls. Chihuahuas. And even a Siamese cat, a couple of Persians, a chinchilla, and a ferret.

The babies I saw while at The Clone Arranger hadn’t made it to the website yet—another Lab, a Yorkie, a boxer—but maybe they’d be here, too, someday.

I thought of poor Lois and her lost part-Akita Flisa. And wondered whether, if I’d been there for a genuine procedure, I could have presented adorable Meph’s owner Maribelle with a duplicate adorable wiry terrier mix. I couldn’t say that Earl Knox had been a particularly pushy salesman with me, but he had been an absolute advocate of The Clone Arranger’s abilities.

Hmmm. My mind was definitely on an upswing today, since some ideas I’d not even considered before had started flooding in. I was developing an honest-to-goodness, truly exciting theory that might provide a motive. For whom? I wasn’t sure yet. But could it be that . . . ?

My office phone rang, and I reached to answer it.

“Kendra, this is Shareen Hayhurst. Please, Kendra, isn’t there anything you’ve come up with yet to help us out of this awful situation? We’ve had more potential students cancel. Some trade publications got wind of the situation, and it’s starting to snowball. If this keeps up, even if we wind up winning the lawsuit, Show Biz Beasts could go out of business.”

My brain changed direction yet again, but it still was working well. In fact— “I’ve made some of the phone calls I promised to make last time we spoke, Shareen. But I need to lock in a time to come to your classroom. Just hang in there, and I’ll get back to you soon.

I hoped. But the way things seemed to be going, attempting to schedule something a day or so away sometimes was harder than working it out immediately. Assuming that the people I called weren’t suddenly on location somewhere far from L.A.

I made those follow-up calls, and was almost astounded that my surmise, at least for today, was correct.

I called Shareen. “Expect a bunch of visitors at Show Biz Beasts in three hours.”

Chapter Nineteen

WHILE DRIVING DOWN Ventura Boulevard a little later, I supposed my lucky stars were all in alignment, at least with respect to setting up this potential ADR solution. Otherwise, it would be amazing that everyone whom I needed to be in town actually was.

Even so, would this scenario evolve into something useful?

Maybe not. Maybe my clients from Show Biz Beasts would have to await their day in court and hope the system worked for them. Which couldn’t be guaranteed, even with my excellent and experienced litigation skills on their behalf.

Instead, I aspired to achieve some successful ADR for them. And I had to adopt optimism about the possibility. This was Hollywood, after all, and my concept involved the film and television industry. But whether my offbeat seed of an idea would bear TV fruit remained to be seen. And, hopefully, aired all over the place.

I went out of my way to pick up Darryl before heading to Show Biz Beasts. After all, he’d evinced some genuine interest in my potential animal dispute resolution idea.

And Odin and Lexie? Well, they joined us. I hoped they would cooperate in this completely speculative little venture. At least, I figured, Odin might.

“So what’s really going on?” Darryl inquired after I’d shoehorned him, along with the dogs, into my little rental car.

“Well,” I said, “you can be on the lookout for stalkers pursuing me. Especially in little silver hybrid cars.”

“Like aliens from outer space?” My long and lanky friend, who barely fit into the passenger seat, peered at me over his wire-rimmed spectacles.

Lexie and Odin didn’t seem dismayed by this conjecture, perhaps because they both stood on the backseat, attempting to smell awful automobile aromas that wafted to their nostrils from the back windows that I’d cracked ajar. I’d also locked the doors, of course, using the switch up front so they couldn’t inadvertently push the handles and open them.