Free Beaglemania by Linda O. Johnston Page B

publicity seekers. Not likely, either way, to be good candidates as new animal parents.
    With Officer Plummer at my side, I ventured through the crowd to the first enclosure. Elmer, the black Lab mix, lay dejectedly on a nice, fluffy dog bed from HotPets until he saw me, and then he dashed to the front of his cage, wagging his tail so hard it looked as if it could act as a helicopter rotor and lift him from the ground.
    “Hi, sweetheart,” I said, glancing inside. The surface of his habitat needed a good cleaning. His water bowl required a refill. And he was undoubtedly hungry.
    My responsibility—and pleasure—now. Pete would want to help, and so might any volunteers who got through, but I couldn’t wait to see if I’d have any backup. Physically, I’d have no trouble doing everything myself. But I hated to keep any of our residents waiting.
    Unless . . . “Officer Plummer, do you happen to like animals?”
    She was about my height and weight but only about half my age. Her previously blasé expression suggested that she wanted to appear as if this all wasn’t fairly new to her. But now her feigned nonchalance disappeared into a broad grin. “I have a golden Lab at home, Ms. Vancouver. Her name is Trixie.”
    “Great. This is Elmer. Can you help me take care of him? I’ll want to keep on the move, since he’s just one of a whole lot of dogs and cats who need some care right away.”
    “Sure!” She demonstrated her sincerity by talking softly to Elmer as she took the pooper scooper from me and slipped inside the enclosure when I opened it. She picked stuff up and placed it into the biodegradable bag I handed her. I wondered if she’d get in trouble for suddenly assuming the role of a HotRescues volunteer.
    I did the same in nearby enclosures, using only bags, not a scooper, for the initial cleaning. Hosing things down would undoubtedly have to wait until later. When I was able, I headed toward the back of the shelter area, skirting around where I’d seen Efram without looking down, as if he were still there. His crime scene outline might be. His blood . . .
    I needed to get food for the animals from our shed.
    Pete was still near there, talking with the probable lady detective. He looked up at me with concern adding new wrinkles to his already lined face. “Are you okay, Lauren?”
    “As good as possible under the circumstances,” I assured him.
    “We’re done, aren’t we?” he pleadingly asked the woman. “I need to help take care of the animals.”
    “All right.” But she didn’t sound entirely convinced. Even so, she let Pete go.
    Together, he and I took care of all our charges. A couple of cops besides Officer Plummer helped with the feeding, although no others assisted with cleaning.
    I assumed that no one else who belonged here had been allowed through the police lines yet. They were probably being interrogated as they appeared.
    Eventually, the cops apparently finished with all they needed to do. Detective Garciana again joined me. He asked if we’d covered a security camera for any reason, and gestured up toward one that had something tossed over it that appeared to be a dog blanket. Otherwise, it might have filmed what had happened here.
    Shocked, I said, “I’ve no idea how that got there. Maybe Efram did it when he broke in. He’d have known how to angle himself to stay out of the camera’s way until he covered it.” It certainly explained why the picture had suddenly disappeared at the EverySecurity offices.
    “Maybe.” Garciana didn’t sound convinced or enthused. Just skeptical. He didn’t ask any more questions, thank heavens. He didn’t assure me he’d never be in touch again, either. In fact, he gave me a business card, told me to call if I thought of anything he should know. I glanced at it, saw that his first name was Stefan. My assumption was that Detective Stefan Garciana and I would get to know each other a whole lot more than I’d ever want to do over the coming