Free Meow is for Murder by Linda O. Johnston Page A

about her. I left her overnight, and when I returned the next morning, there she was, nursing her pups—but she’d also been spayed!” Mae’s eyes watered up all over again.

    “If her birthing was especially difficult, maybe she needed the surgery for health reasons,” I suggested reasonably.

    “Did he talk to you already?” she spat. “That damned vet? That’s what he said, but I know better. He did it out of spite. I’ll tell you more about it later. But that’s why I need a lawyer. That horrible doctor sawed my poor Sugar open and put her through all that trauma for no reason, and I want to sue the bastard.”

     
    “SORRY ABOUT THAT, Kendra,” Darryl said a short while later. He had reclaimed his office, and I sat in a chair across from him, observing him over the mounds of materials cluttering his desk. I’d left Lexie outside the door before so as not to disturb Sugar and her overemotional owner, and now my little Cavalier curled contentedly on my lap, resting after her active day at Darryl’s resort.

    “I’m still unsure why Mae’s so upset,” I said.

    “She obviously loves Pomeranian puppies, and now her little Sugar won’t be able to have any more.”

    “Yeah, I got that. But since the vet said it was for health reasons—”

    “She insists there’s more to it. Look—” My lanky dog-loving friend leaned across his overcrowded desk and regarded me over his wire-rimmed glasses. “She’s a relatively recent customer and has brought some of her other Poms in—older ones, not puppies. She was so excited about this impending litter, and then when things went wrong afterward, she started crying on my shoulder—figuratively, thank heavens. But she was really upset and asked if I knew any lawyers who understood dog lovers. Who would I recommend besides you?”

    “Thanks,” I said. “I’ll look into it more, though I’ll reserve judgment about whether I’ll take the case. If there was a nefarious reason, and not just the poor mama-dog’s health involved, as Mae implied, she might have a valid legal claim.”

    “And if it involves someone making a pooch suffer, I know you’ll take it on. You’re the world’s greatest champion of pet problems, you know. The go-to attorney for animal dispute resolution.”

    “Flattery won’t earn you forgiveness if this is a total fiasco of a case, Darryl, my friend. Right now, I don’t have time to waste on frivolity and debacles.”

    “Enough stuff of your own going on? I figured. Pet-sitting without being sure of your assistant’s assistance. A full plate of legal cases from your boss, Borden. And . . . any idea yet who slew Amanda Hubbard’s stalker?”

    Of course, the murder had already made the news. But I’d divulged it to Darryl first, while driving here earlier.

    He, of all people, was well aware of my murder-magnet status. And I’d wanted him to learn of this latest one from me, not some terrible tabloid news-type.

    “Not yet. And despite what I’ve said to my buddy Ned Noralles, I can’t completely rule her out yet.”

    Darryl smiled a toothy grin that lit up his whole lean face. “Well, whoever dunnit, I know that my buddy Kendra Ballantyne will figure it out.”
     
    “THAT’S NOT EXACTLY a reputation I want to have,” I told Lexie in the Beamer heading back toward home. “On the other hand—” I considered the deep satisfaction I felt when I ferreted out a murderer ahead of Detective Ned Noralles, who’d been so set on seeing me prosecuted for a couple of killings of which I’d been innocent. And—

    My phone started singing “It’s My Life,” and I grinned. It sure was my life, and these days it was a pretty good one—with some obvious love-life and murder-magnet exceptions.

    I immediately regretted having tempted fate by such a positive cogitation when the person who called—with a caller ID I didn’t recognize—identified herself. “Hello, Kendra. I’m so glad I caught you. This is Corina