Howl Deadly by Linda O. Johnston Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Linda O. Johnston
“I’ve got a meeting early tomorrow on our next Animal Auditions season, so I need to get some sleep tonight.”
I said goodbye to him, then looked idly around for Dante. Didn’t see him, but I did note that Wagner was leashed beneath a shady tree in an area of the sanctuary distant from the wild animals. Where had Dante gone without his best friend?
A couple of questions had come to me about the mama wolf’s disappearance, but when I dropped into Megan’s office to ask them, she wasn’t there.
The day was drawing to a close. We would probably hurry back to Dante’s cabin, pick up our stuff, and return to L.A. within the next hour, before the sun set.
I just might have one more opportunity to hug, and feed, a wolf pup. I wasn’t sure when we’d be back—especially without additional clues to mama wolf’s whereabouts. Maybe not till after the babies were weaned—and they’d be more active then, with eyes open and looking around for regurgitated prey.
The crowd of visitors had thinned. Not many around now. I took the opportunity to slip into the infirmary to see if I could beg anyone to let me feed the babies.
And noticed Jon Doe in the area behind the nesting place once more. Good. I’d ask him.
As I glanced beyond the enclosure where the pups slept, I saw that Jon was sitting on the floor. That seemed a bit strange, but maybe he was getting his second wind after all his work that day.
I went to the entrance of the back room and opened the door. Walked inside.
And gasped.
Jon Doe wasn’t simply resting on the floor. He was covered in blood. Unmoving. At an odd angle.
“Damn it,” I muttered to myself as I approached and said aloud, “Jon? Jon, can you hear me?”
When I touched his neck, searching for a pulse, there was none.
Jon Doe appeared to be dead.
Chapter Five
I’VE OFTEN SAID I’m a murder magnet, and it’s true. As a result, I know what to do besides scream when I stumble upon a dead body.
Of course I screamed, as I stepped back on the hard concrete floor, stopped touching things that could possibly be evidence, and extracted my cell phone from my pocket to call 911.
Then I called Dante, in case he was too far away to hear my screams.
Megan must have been closer, since the sanctuary’s director was the first to run into the infirmary. Strange, all the stuff I noticed. Her hair was still clipped into the same barrette, but she had changed clothes, and was again wearing her beige vest with multiple pockets. What was she doing that evening—giving a lecture on wildlife somewhere?
And was that the reason she had changed clothes, or had she gotten Jon Doe’s blood on her earlier duds?
Okay, I had no particular reason to suspect her, except that she was here and had known Jon Doe.
“What’s the matter, Kendra?” she immediately demanded, then followed my line of sight along the back room’s floor, and gasped.
She hurried toward the body. “Jon? Jon, are you okay?”
I grabbed her as she started to kneel. “Don’t touch anything,” I said in a quivering voice. “We don’t want to destroy any evidence.”
“Evidence?” She stood up again and looked at me with shocked, enormous eyes. “Is he—did someone—?”
I finished it for her. “Yes, it looks like someone stabbed him, and I think . . . he’s gone.”
No, my initial reaction hadn’t been to believe that a wild animal, in this sanctuary for feral creatures, was the killer.
Not with a bloody knife lying on the floor beside Jon. And I had to assume that the suspect watched at least some of the same crime shows on TV that I did. I’d have bet a week’s worth of pet-sitting proceeds that there were no fingerprints on the weapon.
I heard sounds from inside the infirmary, including the shrill cries of the wolf pups. Oh, heavens, were they okay? I hadn’t noticed anything wrong with them as I’d dashed in. They’d seemed to be sleeping. But had anything happened to them, too? Although I heard
I said goodbye to him, then looked idly around for Dante. Didn’t see him, but I did note that Wagner was leashed beneath a shady tree in an area of the sanctuary distant from the wild animals. Where had Dante gone without his best friend?
A couple of questions had come to me about the mama wolf’s disappearance, but when I dropped into Megan’s office to ask them, she wasn’t there.
The day was drawing to a close. We would probably hurry back to Dante’s cabin, pick up our stuff, and return to L.A. within the next hour, before the sun set.
I just might have one more opportunity to hug, and feed, a wolf pup. I wasn’t sure when we’d be back—especially without additional clues to mama wolf’s whereabouts. Maybe not till after the babies were weaned—and they’d be more active then, with eyes open and looking around for regurgitated prey.
The crowd of visitors had thinned. Not many around now. I took the opportunity to slip into the infirmary to see if I could beg anyone to let me feed the babies.
And noticed Jon Doe in the area behind the nesting place once more. Good. I’d ask him.
As I glanced beyond the enclosure where the pups slept, I saw that Jon was sitting on the floor. That seemed a bit strange, but maybe he was getting his second wind after all his work that day.
I went to the entrance of the back room and opened the door. Walked inside.
And gasped.
Jon Doe wasn’t simply resting on the floor. He was covered in blood. Unmoving. At an odd angle.
“Damn it,” I muttered to myself as I approached and said aloud, “Jon? Jon, can you hear me?”
When I touched his neck, searching for a pulse, there was none.
Jon Doe appeared to be dead.
Chapter Five
I’VE OFTEN SAID I’m a murder magnet, and it’s true. As a result, I know what to do besides scream when I stumble upon a dead body.
Of course I screamed, as I stepped back on the hard concrete floor, stopped touching things that could possibly be evidence, and extracted my cell phone from my pocket to call 911.
Then I called Dante, in case he was too far away to hear my screams.
Megan must have been closer, since the sanctuary’s director was the first to run into the infirmary. Strange, all the stuff I noticed. Her hair was still clipped into the same barrette, but she had changed clothes, and was again wearing her beige vest with multiple pockets. What was she doing that evening—giving a lecture on wildlife somewhere?
And was that the reason she had changed clothes, or had she gotten Jon Doe’s blood on her earlier duds?
Okay, I had no particular reason to suspect her, except that she was here and had known Jon Doe.
“What’s the matter, Kendra?” she immediately demanded, then followed my line of sight along the back room’s floor, and gasped.
She hurried toward the body. “Jon? Jon, are you okay?”
I grabbed her as she started to kneel. “Don’t touch anything,” I said in a quivering voice. “We don’t want to destroy any evidence.”
“Evidence?” She stood up again and looked at me with shocked, enormous eyes. “Is he—did someone—?”
I finished it for her. “Yes, it looks like someone stabbed him, and I think . . . he’s gone.”
No, my initial reaction hadn’t been to believe that a wild animal, in this sanctuary for feral creatures, was the killer.
Not with a bloody knife lying on the floor beside Jon. And I had to assume that the suspect watched at least some of the same crime shows on TV that I did. I’d have bet a week’s worth of pet-sitting proceeds that there were no fingerprints on the weapon.
I heard sounds from inside the infirmary, including the shrill cries of the wolf pups. Oh, heavens, were they okay? I hadn’t noticed anything wrong with them as I’d dashed in. They’d seemed to be sleeping. But had anything happened to them, too? Although I heard