Animal Instinct Rosenfelt, David (free books to read .TXT) 📖

us. He was obviously pissed that there was nothing he could do, and I let him know he couldn’t touch me.

“Anyway, this same cop showed up with a scary dog at my house tonight. He thinks I killed Yates because of what happened that night. Of course I told him I didn’t.”

“What was his response to that?”

“I think he believed me, but…” Kline caught himself, but realized he had made a major error.

“But what?”

“Well, I had taken some cash out of the bank, twenty-five grand, and somehow he knew about it. He must be the guy checking up on me, like you said.”

“Why did you take out that cash?”

Kline knew the question was coming, but he didn’t have a good answer for it. He was aware he was about to dig a deeper hole, but he had no alternative. “To pay some of my people. But I lied and told him it was to play blackjack in Atlantic City. He believed me.”

“We supply the funds. At this point you still do not know that?”

“No, I do.… I know that. But the money was late, and my people were getting anxious. I didn’t want to bother you, so I paid them and reimbursed myself when your money arrived.”

“Tell me everything you know about this policeman.”

“Well, for one thing, he’s not a cop anymore. I guess he retired or something. And he had a dog that looked like a police dog … scary as hell.”

“His name?”

“Corey Douglas.”

“I will be calling you very soon.”

“Okay.” Kline grew concerned; this conversation had not gone in a direction he had anticipated. “Is there anything wrong? I really think it’s under control.”

“Former cop Corey Douglas may have to be dealt with.”

I’M mostly resigned to the fact that I’m not getting anywhere.

Laurie is right; not only do we have little chance to nail Kline for the murder, but there is an excellent possibility that he had nothing to do with it. I know that I have been letting my dislike for him color my attitude.

I don’t feel bad about it; if I was still a cop, then having this kind of bias would be unacceptable. But in my current role, I can take a flier on something like this without causing any harm. But I should not be dragging Laurie and Marcus deeper into it.

I’ve got an already scheduled interview today, which I am going to keep, with Susan Redick. Redick was the fourth speaker at Lisa Yates’s funeral service; she worked with her at Ardmore Medical Systems.

I take Simon on our morning walk, and when I get back, the phone is ringing. It’s Dani calling from Miami; we’ve only talked twice this past week, and I’ve missed it.

She’s calling to tell me that she’ll be back on Sunday and that she’s looking forward to it, because, according to her, “it’s a hundred and thirty-eight degrees in the shade here, although there isn’t any shade. And I went for one of those beach dirt walks you like so much and burned my feet.”

Dani says that she’s going to come to my house from the airport, which I’m happy to hear. She’s been living at my place a little more than half the time, while still keeping her own apartment. It’s working out well, so neither of us is inclined to make any changes.

When I get off the phone, Simon and I head out. It’s Saturday, so Susan Redick asked me to come to her house in Leonia. I had checked with her to see if she liked dogs, and she said she loved them. She has two of her own, and apparently they would be excited to meet a new friend.

Susan and her two dogs are waiting for us on her front porch when we arrive. She has one dog in each arm, and it doesn’t look like she’s straining to carry them. That’s because one is a Maltese, whom she introduces as Tamar, and the other one is a Pomeranian named Ginny. Simon could have them both for lunch and still be hungry afterward.

“Look, a new friend,” she says.

“You sure they’re going to be okay with Simon?”

“You said he was dog friendly, right?”

“Right. But he’s used to actual full-size dogs. I’m afraid he could step on one of them by accident.”

She laughs. “They can handle themselves. Come on in.”

Once we get inside, she puts the minidogs on the floor. Simon has no idea what to make of them as they run circles around him. It is hilarious. Then they all run into another room, or, more accurately, they chase Simon into the other room.

“Don’t look so worried,” Susan says, “they’ll be fine.”

She offers me coffee and the greatest blueberry muffins I have ever had. They’re homemade, she tells me. Four are on the plate, and since she looks pretty thin, I’m counting on three of them for myself. If things don’t work out with Dani, I am going to marry this woman, just for the muffins.

“So, you and Lisa Yates were coworkers at Ardmore Medical Systems?”

She nods. “Our cubicles were right next to each other.”

“What did she do?”

“Same as me. We keep medical records up-to-date on our computer systems, which hospitals, doctors, and insurance companies can and do access.”

“So nothing in the medical world is private?”

“It is, if you want it to be. But my guess is that you don’t, and I would also bet that you signed away that privacy, probably without you knowing it.”

“How did I do that?”

“On one of those forms at your doctor’s office, or from your insurance company, that you didn’t want to read. No one ever reads those things.”

“Oh.”

I ask her the standard questions about whether Lisa had any enemies, et cetera, but I get nowhere. She does not even know Gerald Kline; I get the feeling that the only thing close about her and Lisa was their cubicles.

Then I ask whether Lisa had seemed different lately, perhaps troubled.

“I don’t know; I hadn’t seen her since she quit.”

“Quit? She quit her