Oodles of Poodles (15 page)

Hope was ready to be discharged from The Fittest Pet Veterinary Hospital.

I hadn’t heard from Matt about her, though. I’d bring Hope to HotRescues, but would I be in violation of some regulations?

I decided to call to find out.

Matt answered right away. “Good timing,” he said. “The supervisor here at Animal Services who I wanted to talk to just called me back. Your taking Hope is fine. As far as we’re concerned, since her apparent owner—per her microchip—didn’t want her back, she’s an owner relinquishment.”

“Yay!”

I kept smiling for most of my drive to the veterinary
hospital and back again, with Hope protectively secured in the back of my Venza.

I’d had a chance to talk to Carlie at The Fittest Pet, but only briefly. She was in a good mood. No one had come to arrest her or even interrogate her further.

That made me happy. In fact, this day had been a good one.

But it wasn’t over yet.

Chapter 15

I took Hope inside to meet Nina first. Zoey remained in the welcome area, too, and she got to greet the cute spaniel-poodle mix. They sniffed each other’s noses, both wagging tails, and I knew they’d get along fine.

But Zoey would get to go home with me. I had to arrange for a kennel here at HotRescues for Hope. Our facility was clean and loving and an all-around great pet rescue shelter, but even with all the attention our animals got from staff and volunteers it still wasn’t the same thing as going to a permanent family.

I’d try to make sure Hope was adopted as soon as possible.

Even so, I decided to hang out at HotRescues late enough that day to chat with Brooke in case she’d taken the walk she’d promised. I wasn’t sure where Councilman Randell
lived, but Brooke, with her P.I. ingenuity, would have no problem finding out.

“Come on, sweetheart,” I finally said to Hope and snapped a leash on the Martingale training collar I’d given her at The Fittest Pet. She glanced up at me with sad, astute eyes that told me she knew her current fun and games had ended and she would wind up alone again.

Impulsively, I knelt and hugged her. “It’s not what you think,” I promised her. “You’re here to stay until we find the right home for you. You’ll get a lot of loving here. You’ll see.”

As if to bolster what I said, Zoey came up beside us and stuck her muzzle over my arm as I held Hope. That’s when Nina joined our hugfest, too.

“She’s right, Hope,” Nina rasped, and I knew her emotions were as engaged as mine.

I sighed as I unwrapped myself and stood. “I’m going to put Hope in one of the kennels in the old shelter area rather than around the corner.” Even though the new area was as delightful as the old, it was a little farther from the entrance—and I wanted Hope to be among the first dogs a prospective adopter saw.

Nina smiled as she, too, rose to her feet. “I thought you would. Thanks to our recent adoptions, there’s one available near the storage shed in back that I think would work well.”

“Sounds good.” I left Zoey up front while walking Hope into the kennel area. She did well on a leash, which suggested she’d been trained. And that suggested she’d had a home.

With the councilman? If so, why had he denied it?

On the way back to Hope’s new quarters—temporary, if all went well—I passed Mamie Spelling. She was sitting on a stool inside one of the front kennels, playing with Miracle, the part Basset hound and part Lab pup who’d been brought in to HotRescues with parvo a few months ago. Miracle had done fine after veterinary care, and now we were showing her off for adoption as quickly as possible, too.

“How’s she doing, Mamie?” I called through the glass and fencing at the front of the kennel.

“She’s just great!” Mamie picked up a stuffed toy from the ground and threw it. Miracle leaped after it and worried it in her jaw, which made me laugh. “Who is that?” Mamie pointed toward Hope.

My onetime mentor looked especially happy today. Sitting there, she didn’t seem as frail as usual, and there was no confusion on her face or in her words.

“This is Hope. She was—” I almost said she was a stray that I’d found not far from here, but I caught myself. “She’s an owner relinquishment, and we’re going to find her a new, much better owner.”

“Amen to that,” Mamie said emphatically.

I laughed and continued on. Pete Engersol came toward us with a large bag of food in his arms, handling it as easily as he always did notwithstanding his advancing age. “I heard you say that’s Hope,” he said. “Welcome, young lady.”

I laughed. “Let’s give Hope some extra love and attention,” I said.

“Along with Miracle and Shazam and—”

“Point taken,” I said. “Let’s give her as much as we do all our animals.”

“Will do.” Pete continued on.

Dogs barked in the kennels on either side of us as Hope and I walked by, then only on one side as we passed the center building on the right. I always discouraged their noise, but dogs would be dogs, which meant they protected whatever turf they happened to have by barking at other canines.

We finally reached the empty kennel and I opened the glass front door and walked inside with Hope. The outer, outdoor area was clean. I went to the end and peeked into the enclosed portion of the kennel, which was inside a building so the dog could decide whether to be in or out. A fresh, clean doggy bed was already in place.

“Here you are, Hope,” I told her. “Your new home. For now.” I again knelt to hug her, and only looked into her sad eyes for a moment after I rose. “You’ll like it here.” I didn’t promise, though. No matter how much love and attention we provided, who knew how happy she’d feel?

But what I could promise was that we would make her stay as warm and loving as possible.

It was already getting late, which was a good thing. My decision to stay at HotRescues until Brooke arrived meant that Nina and most of the rest of the staff and volunteers had left.

She arrived at nearly seven o’clock, dressed in yellow T-shirt and jeans instead of her usual black security outfit. Zoey and I had been listening for her and we exited my office immediately when we heard her enter the welcome area.

Cheyenne was with her, of course, and she went over to
say hi to Zoey right away. Brooke carried a tote bag. “Hang on a minute,” she said. “I need to change clothes.” She hurried to the rest room at the end of the hall, leaving Cheyenne with Zoey and me.

She returned in a few minutes looking a little flushed, which worried me considering her earlier medical issues. But she sat down at the table beneath the window, took a deep breath, then smiled.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi back. Did you—”

“Yes, I found where Councilman Randell lives. Nice neighborhood, if you like large estates separated by attractive fences that make a definite statement about uncompromising privacy. Fortunately, there are wide sidewalks plus a lot of people who walk their dogs. Cheyenne and I weren’t alone.”

“Did you learn anything?” I hurried to sit across from her at the table. I looked at her eagerly while our dogs settled down on the floor. “Is Hope his dog?”

“Yes,” she said. “At least I think so. Here’s what I found out, both online and while taking a walk around there.”

I’d already known that Councilman Guy Randell was a bachelor, although not necessarily an eligible one. From what Brooke had determined, he’d had a longtime girlfriend named Katrina Tirza.

“They recently broke up, though,” Brooke said. “That may be how Hope got loose. The neighbors saw Katrina walking a dog who looked like Hope during afternoons for several weeks a while back. Katrina was known from parties and tabloids, so people recognized her. She stopped to ask other people about their dogs and sometimes mentioned
that the dog she was walking—she called her Ginger—was the councilman’s dog but he only exercised her by playing with her inside the house. Katrina thought the poor thing needed more attention, so that was why they were out walking. I’ve nothing but a gut feeling to say that Katrina may have let poor Ginger outside the grounds out of spite when they broke up, but it’s certainly a possibility.”

“Then why wouldn’t the councilman have been thrilled to get her back?” I wondered aloud.

“Good question. Embarrassment?”

I shrugged. “Maybe. Does he have any staff who can confirm that Ginger was his?”

“Yes and no. Yes to the staff part, but no one who works for him will talk to the media or anyone else. The councilman himself may be a media personality but he likes to control what’s said about and around himself. He’ll fire anyone who speaks out of turn and maybe even sue them. He only hires people under a contract with strict terms.”

“Interesting perspective for someone in the public eye. How far away is the councilman’s neighborhood?”

“That’s another interesting thing. He lives in Beverly Hills.”

Which was quite a distance from Granada Hills—where HotRescues was located, and where Carlie and I had found Hope running loose.

“Another one of those situations where I wish an animal who comes to stay with us could talk about what happened to her.” I sighed. “Well, the good thing about what you learned is that we can genuinely continue to consider Hope an owner relinquishment.” I told Brooke how Matt had finagled that a bit through Animal Services.

“Another good thing about it,” Brooke said, “is that obviously the councilman didn’t give a damn about Hope or Ginger or whoever. We do.”

“Yes,” I agreed, “we do.”

I wished there was some way of making the councilman’s horrible treatment of his dog public without getting HotRescues into a media hassle.

Maybe I’d talk to Dante about it and find out his opinion.

I’d definitely think about it some more myself.

Chapter 16

The next day was Saturday. I supposed that the film industry, like animal shelters, never really had days off, since Niall had told me about the scenes that were to be shot that day at Solario Studios.

Dante had sent me a text message that he’d be there. His subtext meant I didn’t have to go.

I, to the contrary, wanted to be there. I had a lot to talk to Dante about, both regarding
Sheba’s Story
and the Councilman Randell situation.

Plus, maybe I could learn something about the proposed filming of
A Matter of Death and Life
and whether Erskine Blainer remained involved.

And whether he’d wanted to be involved enough to kill Hans to secure the opportunity.

I pondered whether to leave Zoey at home or at HotRescues, since I was heading there anyway for a shortened morning visit. I decided on the former. Zoey wouldn’t be alone too long. I didn’t intend to stay at the studio for more than an hour or two.

Plus, Kevin had confirmed that he’d be home for a short while over the weekend, starting that afternoon. He wouldn’t be coming far, since he was a sophomore at Claremont McKenna College, and Claremont was only about fifty miles east of the San Fernando Valley.

Too bad Tracy couldn’t come home as well. I’d called my daughter as soon as Kevin let me know, but Tracy, who attended Stanford, had plans—both social and academic. She sounded happy, which made me glad. But I missed her.

At least I got to see both my kids on holidays. My parents, and my brother and his family, lived in Phoenix, and although I talked to them at least weekly I hardly ever got to see them.

Today, after my quick trip to HotRescues, I headed to the studio. When I arrived at the entrance gate with its huge Solario Studios sign, I saw a familiar silver Mercedes in front of me. Dante showed his ID to the guard and was waved inside.

My entry didn’t take much longer, and I caught up with Dante’s car in the parking lot.

He approached as I exited my car. “I thought that was you, Lauren.” He was dressed casually in a white knit shirt with a HotPets logo on the pocket over black jeans. His wavy, dark hair was a bit askew, and his intense, deep brown eyes stared questioningly at me. “Why are you here? I told you I’d be here for this day’s filming.”

“There are a couple of things I wanted to run by you. Plus—well, I’m actually enjoying watching the filming of
Sheba’s Story
, at least as long as the animals really aren’t being endangered.”