“The drug screen found Telazol in her bloodstream.”
Telazol was the tranquilizer loaded into dart guns to subdue large wild animals. Like tigers. “Someone shot her with it? Was a dart found or the wound where it entered?” When Greene pressed his lips together and didn’t answer, Blake turned to Jane with bewilderment. “I don’t understand.”
“The dart wasn’t found, not yet. But there was a puncture wound on her neck where the dart went in. We’re going to need your cooperation.” She nodded toward Greene and his team. “Please show the detective where you store your drugs and the equipment. I’d suggest you move all visitors away from the area and any surrounding spots where a shooter might have a line of sight into the tiger enclosure. How far does the dart shoot from one of the guns?”
“Let me ask the questions, Dixon,” Greene snarled.
She leveled her gaze back his way. “Then ask them yourself but in a civilized manner. Mr. Lawson is not under arrest.”
“Maybe not yet, but he clearly had access to the murder weapon.”
“As did a significant number of his employees. Do your job, Detective.”
Greene turned an arrogant sneer toward Blake. “From how far away can an animal be sedated?”
“Depends on which tool we use. A pistol will handle distances under a hundred feet. The rifle can be used as far away as two hundred feet. We’ve also got a blowgun for short distances with smaller animals.”
“Show me,” Greene ordered.
Blake caught the sympathy in Jane’s eyes as he turned to show Greene and his entourage the equipment.
The mewing was the first sign of disturbance. Paradise heard it in the recesses of her brain as she comforted the Benson family over the loss of their dog. Willow had been struck by a car, and though Paradise tried her best, she’d been unable to save her. She held the sobbing daughter against her chest while Mr. Benson comforted his wife.
It was after five and her assistant had already left. The mewing intensified as she showed the bereaved family out the front door. A box with holes poked in the lid sat to the right of the door.
“Kittens!” The ten-year-old Benson girl sank to her knees beside the box and lifted the lid.
Paradise counted four tiny furballs loudly protesting the indignity of being cooped up. “What do we have here?” Her knees scraped the pavement as she knelt and lifted one of the kittens out of the box. “I think they’re about six weeks old.”
They would have been better off to have been allowed to stay with their mother another four to six weeks, but their coats were shiny and their eyes were bright. She placed the gray kitten back in the box.
The family left with the little girl looking back longingly. Paradise picked up the box when they were gone. “What am I goingto do with you?” The kittens didn’t answer—they simply sat and mewed pathetically. This was a question she’d have to answer for herself. They were very cute though. One gray, one black-and-white, one mostly white except for a black spot on its face, and one all black. Quite the menagerie.
She made a stop inside and grabbed a bag of Evanger’s Rabbit & Quail canned food for kittens. Her other supplies would need to be found at a pet store or a big-box store. She ticked them off mentally—litter and a box for it, a scoop for waste, bowls for food and water, and cat toys.
Whoa, hold on there.She couldn’t keep four kittens. Maybe two. They were littermates after all, and she didn’t want them to be lonely. All she’d have to do was find one other family to take the other two. Or two families to take two kittens each, though the thought of giving them all away didn’t appeal to her. She imagined nights spent shining a laser light for them to leap after and cat toys strewn around her living room. The boys would love them too.
She exited the clinic and started for the steps to her apartment before pausing. What if someone was up there? Blake hadn’t come by to change the locks or install cameras. She frowned at her watch. He’d promised to come by around four thirty. A shower and a change out of hairy, smelly clothes sounded much more appealing than hanging out in her office waiting for Blake.
She turned decisively toward the stairs and headed that way. Halfway to the landing, she spotted her green Kia coming her way. She waved at Blake as he parked in the alley, then went on toward the door. The bolt of relief she felt at seeing him startled her. For all her determination to stand on her own two feet, she wasn’t as self-sufficient and independent as she’d always thought. Or maybe that was something that came with love.
The smile that curved her lips fell away when she turned to watch him come up the steps. His mouth was set in a grim line, and fatigue pulled at his lids. She took a step down toward him. “What’s wrong?”
He gestured toward the door. “Let’s go inside. I need coffee.”
She unlocked the door and carried the box of kittens inside to set it on the floor. The furballs were all sleeping, and the black one cocked open one blue eye before going back to sleep. Poor Blake. The last thing he needed was another problem.
She washed her hands to make coffee. “I’ll make a whole pot. I could use some too.”
He shut the door behind him and locked it before he dropped onto a stool at the counter. “Kittens?”
She turned on the grinder and raised her voice over the noise. “Left on my doorstep at the clinic.”
“There’s nothing cuter than a kitten. The boys will want them.”
“I think I might keep two of them.” She filled the carafe and poured the water into the pot, then turned it on before joining him at the counter. “Tell me.”
“Raj didn’t kill Ivy Cook. Someone shot a tranq dart into her and made it appear like a mauling.” He went on to lay out what he’d learned about the murder.
