“They’re so fascinating, aren’t they?” Veronica’s voice piped up behind me.
I turned, taking in her disheveled ponytail and the dry leaf clinging to her leg. It almost looked like she’d had a fling in the woods—which seemed unlikely, given that Carson was the only one roaming around.
Ignoring my perplexed silence, Veronica brushed the leaf off and straightened her ponytail. “I managed to lose that freak,” she said. Her dark eyes sought and held my gaze, almost challenging me.
Was she protesting Carson’s attentions too much?
Rich, who’d been cavorting around with the two wolves that looked like litter mates, stood and made his way toward us. “I like to put my time in with them,” he explained, locking the gate behind him. “They’re sort of like kids—if you show them you truly like them, their loyalty knows no bounds.”
Veronica scribbled something in the notebook in her hand, probably copying Rich’s direct quote.
“Do you ever go into the fence?” I asked Veronica.
She shrugged. “Sure. I’ve gone into both enclosures. My favorite wolves are the two Rich was just playing with. They’re a sister and brother—Saga and Sigurd. Siggie for short.”
“Who came up with the Norse name theme?” I asked. I’d read some of The Sagas of Icelanders myself, back when I’d learned my dad had a few Norwegian ancestors.
Rich piped up. “That was my suggestion, and Dahlia thought it was a good one. I figured the forsaken wolves needed names that they could grow into, you know? Names that represented power and a sort of wildness.”
“Makes sense.” I took a step closer to him, dropping my voice. “Have you ever had any misgivings when you play with them? Especially with Njord?”
Veronica remained silent, but her pen was poised to record Rich’s response.
Rich slowly shook his head. “No. I can’t honestly say I have, even after…the incident with Shaun.” He glanced at the wolves, who were romping with each other like excited puppies. “I don’t guess I’ll ever understand what happened to him. I’ve wondered if he was taunting the wolves somehow—maybe offering food, then holding it back. I suppose it would be possible that the wolves could kill to take the food they felt was theirs. But the moment they attacked, Shaun should have been ready with his pepper spray. I wonder if the police have found it yet.”
Veronica stopped writing for a moment and pinned me with a shrewd gaze. “So, you haven’t told us how you feel about the wolves, Belinda. Do you feel comfortable going in the enclosures?”
I answered as honestly as I could. “Not yet, but I have to admit, I’m getting there fast. The wolves have been nothing but friendly to me.”
She didn’t write anything down, but asked, “So would you say wolves see humans as part of their pack? Or as their prey?”
“It looks like Rich is in their pack,” I said. “He actually seems to be their alpha. As for me…I don’t think they see me as prey, but maybe I’m not part of the pack yet?”
Veronica scrawled my answer in silence, then capped her pen.
Rich gave me a smile. “Good answer,” he said.
I glanced at my watch. “I’ve finished feeding the other animals, Rich. Is it okay if I head out now?”
“Of course. Just check in with Evie and let her know you’re going. See you bright and early tomorrow?”
“Will do. Have a great night. You too, Veronica.”
“Oh, I will,” Veronica said, flashing me the kind of goofy grin that women only get when they’re falling in love.
She wouldn’t be falling for someone at the preserve, would she? If it was Carson, why had she been so determined to hide their relationship?
I looked over at Rich. Surely he was too old for her…and too married?
* * * *
I put my phone on speaker and called Mom on the way home. I had promised to check in when I’d decided whether I was going to stick with the wolf-sitting job or not. I had been delaying the call because she’d had such a tearful reaction when I told her how Shaun died.
While Mom wasn’t the type to forbid me from working at the wolf preserve, she was the type who would read up on wolves and come up with at least twenty different methods to protect myself in case of attack. She would also search for an essential oil that had wolf-repellent qualities (maybe garlic? like vampires?), and she’d ship that down to me immediately.
Mom took her naturalistic, off-grid efforts seriously. In preparation for a nuclear war or a deadly plague—whatever was most imminent—she had even had me plant an herbal-cure flower bed on the property. So far, we had established echinacea, foxglove, poppies, lavender, mint, and calendula. If it were legal, she probably would have added marijuana and magic mushrooms to the list.
Mom picked up right after her answering machine started playing, so I had to wait for the beep. “Hi, Mom,” I said.
“Belinda! Your father and I have been worried sick ever since you called last night. Have you left your job yet?”
“I’ve decided to stay on longer to help one of the employees out, but when the owner gets back, I’ll see if I’m still needed. Is Dad around?” Although I hoped my question would distract Mom, I truly wanted to get my veterinarian dad’s thoughts about wolf pack behavior and the likelihood they would have had some motive to kill and eat Shaun.
“He’s over at Gerald Klein’s farm—his sow’s off her feed and feverish. You need him to call you?”
“Sure, that’d be great. Maybe later tonight though, since I’m heading to the Fentons’ place for dinner.” Ava and Adam Fenton’s daughter, Margo, had been murdered last fall, and during the course of the investigation, the bereaved couple and I had become close friends.
“Oh, Ava is such a sweet lady—she just e-mailed me her recipe for raspberry-ricotta cake. Please tell her I plan to make it for the church picnic. I’m so glad you have someone looking out for you there.”
Mom would never admit to it, but I was fairly certain she’d befriended Ava Fenton so quickly on her last visit simply as a means of keeping tabs on me from afar.
“I’m glad I got to know them, too,” I said. Quite honestly, if something tragic happened to me in Greenwich, the only ones who would even notice right now were the Fentons and maybe Red.
As I hung up with Mom, I made a mental note to get out and try to make more friends.
The only obstacle was that I literally hated attending social functions. Stone the fifth had taken me to a polo match, and I’d stuck out like a sore thumb in my not-Greenwich-enough clothing. I’d visited some churches, but they had felt as empty as the pews inside them. I did enjoy the library, but that was only because I didn’t have to talk to anyone there if I didn’t want to.
Of course, there were plenty of people who shared my social class in Manhattan, but I needed a good reason to take the long train ride into the city on any kind of a regular basis. Maybe I could call Dietrich sometime, see if he knew of any hip parties in Brooklyn.
I chuckled at the thought. As if he would know anyone I would connect with. Dietrich was an artist (one whose artwork I couldn’t appreciate), and he was still far above me socially because he’d grown up in Greenwich. We were mutual friends with Stone the fifth, and that was all.
I could get friendly with Evie, but I wasn’t sure if she was friend material, especially with her penchant for suddenly dropping off the radar at work.
Nope. I’d stick with the handful of friends I already had. Besides, if anything tragic did happen to me at the wolf preserve, I knew at least one person who’d make for dead sure the wolves would never harm anyone again.
My sister.
* * * *
When I arrived at Ava Fenton’s, she greeted me warmly at her door, wearing diamond chandelier earrings that would’ve been over the top on anyone else. Ava was a tall, bigger-boned blonde woman who wore nothing but the best designers. While she could’ve easily come off as queenly and imposing, her genuine acceptance of me—despite my peasant status in comparison to her wealth—was reassuring. She never spoke down to me, and I really believed she saw me as an equal.
I complimented her long navy wrap dress, and she said it was one of her favorite Ralph Laurens. Without further ado, she led me straight to her gourmet kitchen, which I’d discovered was the central hub of this home.
As I perched on a steel barstool, Ava busied herself with an appetizer dish. “How’s work?” she asked.
I shared how Rich and I had stumbled onto Shaun’s body. The slight tremor in Ava’s hands was the only giveaway of how much my story had disturbed her.
“And you’re still working there,” she said. It wasn’t a question.
I helped myself to the cheese and grapes she pushed my way. “Yes, but I’ll get out of it as soon as I can. For now, I feel like they really need my help.”
“What was the name of that wolf preserve again? Who runs it?” she asked.
“The White Pine Wolf Preserve—Dahlia White is the manager.”
“That sounds familiar.” Ava’s brow furrowed as Adam walked into the kitchen. “Honey, do you remember hearing something about a White Pine Wolf Preserve or a Dahlia White?”
Adam, whose perpetual tan and dapper clothes always made him look like he’d participated in a regatta, stepped over and shook my hand. He plopped down next to me on a barstool and crunched into a piece of celery.
“Let’s see,” he said. “Remember that time a wolf escaped and showed up behind the Andersons’ guesthouse, maybe a couple of years ago? Wasn’t that from that place?”
Ava pointed at him and nodded. “You know, you’re right.” She chuckled. “Wasn’t the wolf drinking from their koi pond or something?”
“It had eaten several of the fish, if I remember correctly,” Adam said.
“Yes, and there was a very public feud that went on after that, between the police and that Dahlia woman,” Ava added. “I think a man named Officer Jacob Hardy in particular was always writing letters to the editor and giving interviews during that time, about how the preserve didn’t have adequate fencing, that kind of thing.”
“Sergeant Hardy,” I muttered. “But the fencing seems more than adequate now—it’s eight feet high, with two locked gates and everything.”
“Might’ve beefed up their security after that incident,” Adam speculated.
“That would make sense, after all the bad publicity the place got,” Ava said. She patted my arm. “How’s Stone the fourth doing these days? And the younger Stone? I haven’t seen them at any of their regular functions. I’m hoping Stone the fourth hasn’t lapsed into his…well, his inebriated ways.”
“Actually, I’m happy to report that he’s kicked his alcoholism, from what I’ve heard. He’s been traveling into Manhattan more often to manage his business, getting ready to hand it over to Stone the fifth.”
“A wise move,” Adam said. “That boy’s a natural hedge fund manager. I’ve used him for several of my own transactions.”
I hastened to explain. “Well, Stone the fifth is out of town right now. He’s overseas at a retreat.”
Ava gave me a knowing look. “When’s he coming back, dear?”
I shifted uncomfortably on my stool. “No one really knows.”