occurred.
“So this Jon Doe was an employee there?”
I confirmed it.
“Do you know anyone who had anything against him?”
“Not unless he’d located the missing mama wolf and whoever took her was peeved about it.” I’d filled Ned in on that angle of what was going on, too. And I purposely didn’t mention how I’d sensed an undercurrent that seemed generated by Dante and Brody. And my wondering why Brody so conveniently was here just now. Or had he ever left?
“Okay, I’ll call one of my buddies there. I’ll ask him to keep an eye on whoever questions you. Just be as candid as you were with me, and you should be released fairly soon.”
Which I knew, in cop time, could be anywhere from an hour to a few days, but I hoped for the former.
As I hung up my cell, I started meandering through the crowd toward Dante and Brody. Brody spotted me first and lifted his hand in a wave. When I reached them, I basked for an instant under Dante’s warm smile, then said to Brody, “What are you doing here?”
“Dante called when he heard what had happened. I hadn’t gotten far, so I came back to see what was going on.”
And help Dante with whatever investigation he intended to conduct, I suspected. One of these days, I really had to get a grip on their mutual background.
I immediately recalled what I’d seen on the computer after Brody’s search last night. Stuff I didn’t understand.
And stuff about Jon Doe.
Very convenient that Brody hadn’t gotten too close to L.A., and was able to return here at Dante’s call.
Unless he hadn’t gotten far at all for some other reason. Like something to do with Jon Doe’s death?
Damn! I absolutely hoped not. I liked Brody. And if he’d been involved in killing Jon Doe, that undoubtedly meant Dante was an aider and abettor . . . or worse.
WITH THE LARGE crowd at HotWildlife, the local authorities had to make do with the available facilities. I watched as most people were sorted into groups in the warm September air. Sanctuary visitors were herded to several areas, and those with presumably closer ties to HotWildlife were shown to others.
As a person who was present mainly because of close acquaintanceship with the place’s chief money source, I didn’t fit neatly into any characterization. Then again, I had a credential more exciting than most: the person who’d discovered the body. Lucky me.
I mentally kicked my behind for my silent sarcasm. I, in fact, was lucky—compared with poor Jon Doe.
I was soon debriefed by a professional and particularly curt woman in a suit. She said she was a detective with the Homicide Detail. But before I’d related the entire story—excluding my concerns and suspicions about Dante and Brody, of course—we were joined by a large guy, also in a suit, whose dark complexion and features suggested Hawaiian extraction.
“I’m Sergeant Frank Hura, Kendra,” he said, holding out his beefy hand to me. His smile suggested I should know him, but I didn’t.
“Hi,” I said tentatively as we shook.
His round face folded into a hint of a frown. Not a good sign, since this cop just might be in charge. “Didn’t Ned Noralles tell you about me?”
I hid my sigh of relief. “No, but I called him to ask his advice a little while ago. He said he had some friends in San Bernardino. You’re one of them?”
“Sure am. I know some of your background with Ned, too, and how irritated he used to be with you—till you helped him out of an ugly situation.” He glanced at the lady detective from the Homicide Detail. “Thanks, Liz. I’ll take over now.”
She seemed to work at erasing an even more annoyed expression and said, “Of course, sir,” before moving off.
“Let’s take a walk,” Frank Hura said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been here, and I like to look at the animals.”
“Me, too.” And the idea of strolling made me happy; much more relaxed than standing, or sitting, face-to-face during an
“So this Jon Doe was an employee there?”
I confirmed it.
“Do you know anyone who had anything against him?”
“Not unless he’d located the missing mama wolf and whoever took her was peeved about it.” I’d filled Ned in on that angle of what was going on, too. And I purposely didn’t mention how I’d sensed an undercurrent that seemed generated by Dante and Brody. And my wondering why Brody so conveniently was here just now. Or had he ever left?
“Okay, I’ll call one of my buddies there. I’ll ask him to keep an eye on whoever questions you. Just be as candid as you were with me, and you should be released fairly soon.”
Which I knew, in cop time, could be anywhere from an hour to a few days, but I hoped for the former.
As I hung up my cell, I started meandering through the crowd toward Dante and Brody. Brody spotted me first and lifted his hand in a wave. When I reached them, I basked for an instant under Dante’s warm smile, then said to Brody, “What are you doing here?”
“Dante called when he heard what had happened. I hadn’t gotten far, so I came back to see what was going on.”
And help Dante with whatever investigation he intended to conduct, I suspected. One of these days, I really had to get a grip on their mutual background.
I immediately recalled what I’d seen on the computer after Brody’s search last night. Stuff I didn’t understand.
And stuff about Jon Doe.
Very convenient that Brody hadn’t gotten too close to L.A., and was able to return here at Dante’s call.
Unless he hadn’t gotten far at all for some other reason. Like something to do with Jon Doe’s death?
Damn! I absolutely hoped not. I liked Brody. And if he’d been involved in killing Jon Doe, that undoubtedly meant Dante was an aider and abettor . . . or worse.
WITH THE LARGE crowd at HotWildlife, the local authorities had to make do with the available facilities. I watched as most people were sorted into groups in the warm September air. Sanctuary visitors were herded to several areas, and those with presumably closer ties to HotWildlife were shown to others.
As a person who was present mainly because of close acquaintanceship with the place’s chief money source, I didn’t fit neatly into any characterization. Then again, I had a credential more exciting than most: the person who’d discovered the body. Lucky me.
I mentally kicked my behind for my silent sarcasm. I, in fact, was lucky—compared with poor Jon Doe.
I was soon debriefed by a professional and particularly curt woman in a suit. She said she was a detective with the Homicide Detail. But before I’d related the entire story—excluding my concerns and suspicions about Dante and Brody, of course—we were joined by a large guy, also in a suit, whose dark complexion and features suggested Hawaiian extraction.
“I’m Sergeant Frank Hura, Kendra,” he said, holding out his beefy hand to me. His smile suggested I should know him, but I didn’t.
“Hi,” I said tentatively as we shook.
His round face folded into a hint of a frown. Not a good sign, since this cop just might be in charge. “Didn’t Ned Noralles tell you about me?”
I hid my sigh of relief. “No, but I called him to ask his advice a little while ago. He said he had some friends in San Bernardino. You’re one of them?”
“Sure am. I know some of your background with Ned, too, and how irritated he used to be with you—till you helped him out of an ugly situation.” He glanced at the lady detective from the Homicide Detail. “Thanks, Liz. I’ll take over now.”
She seemed to work at erasing an even more annoyed expression and said, “Of course, sir,” before moving off.
“Let’s take a walk,” Frank Hura said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been here, and I like to look at the animals.”
“Me, too.” And the idea of strolling made me happy; much more relaxed than standing, or sitting, face-to-face during an
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