Bloodlines by Susan Conant Page A

practiced eye told me that he did, in fact, have more to bring up, he choked it down, glared at me, and said bluntly, “Go home.”
    “Okay,” I said. “But just tell me … Kevin, are the puppies all right?”
    “Jesus Christ!” He dug his hands into the pockets of his unzipped parka. “Holly, a woman’s dead. A young woman. A pretty woman. And what you want to know is … What
you
want to know is …? Christ, am I hearing this right?”
    “Look, Kevin, I’m sorry, but I do want to know. I’m sorry about the woman, but I need to know. Are the puppies all right?”
    Kevin Dennehy huffed himself up, locked his jaw, and said between clenched teeth, “Sure, Holly. Everything’s just hunky-dory in there. Your little darlings are all rounded up and tucked in their beddie-byes. After a nice meal, of course. Tore open every bag of dog food in the place, ran riot, peed, puked, crapped, and … Holly, you ever thought about what a medical examiner has to do? What the guy has to do, all day, every day? You ever thought about that?”
    “Not in great detail,” I said.
    “Yeah, well, keep it that way,” Kevin advised. “You’ll sleep better. But you don’t need to know a lot to reach the conclusion that it takes a whole lot of bad smell to do
that
to a medical examiner.” Kevin’s eyes darted to the ground. He shuffled his feet as if he wanted to kick something over the wet mess visibly steaming on the icy pavement. “The poor bastard was sicker than me.”
    “Kevin, nausea is nothing to be ashamed of,” I said.
    “Would you not keep looking at it?” He raised his eyes upward toward the cold sky.
    “Diane Sweet?” I asked.
    Kevin stared at me.
    “Because of the malamute.” I answered his unspoken question. “That’s why I’m here. I was in here the other day because somebody told me there was a malamute puppy. I heard there was a malamute for sale here. And there was. So today I was going to—”
    “Well, you’re not,” Kevin grumbled.
    “Kevin, what
happened?
The person is, uh …”
    “Yeah. Diane Sweet. She owned the place, her and her husband. A hard-working lady. Last night she’s working here all alone. It’s late. Guy forces his way in.”
    I looked at the plate glass and at the door, both festooned with valentines.
    “Through the back,” Kevin said. “She’s working late, guy busts his way in, she puts up a fight. Cash drawer’s empty.”
    “How did she …?”
    “Best guess is first he tries to shut her up, and then that doesn’t work, or maybe she struggles a lot, and he doesn’t like it. So he grabs her by the throat. Or maybe it works the other way around. He grabs her by the throat, she puts up a fight, maybe she—Anyway, then he ends up wrapping the plastic around her head, and like they say on the dry cleaner’s bags …”
    “And the puppies were—The puppies were all turned loose? Why would …?”
    “Screw up the evidence,” Kevin said. “Jesus.” He blew out hard. A small white cloud rose from his mouth. “The worst mess, Jesus. I don’t know how those guys are ever going to—”
    “Were they loose there all night? What time—?”
    “Couple of hours. When she didn’t come home, the husband started calling, and then he came over. I’ve been here all night.”
    “Look, Kevin,” I said. “I’m sorry, but the fact is, overeating like that is no joke, and some of those puppies weren’t in great shape to begin with. You really ought to get a vet to come and take a look at them.Steve would do it. For an emergency like this, I know he would. Maybe he can—”
    Kevin’s face was tired and angry. “Can he raise the dead, Holly? That’s all we need in there right now. We need a guy that can raise the dead. And then, after that, when that poor woman’s back on her feet breathing again, I’ll worry about the dogs.”
    “Kevin, if something happens to one of those puppies because you didn’t—”
    “Like I said, Holly, go home. I don’t want to