The More the Terrier by Linda O. Johnston

and I brought Zoey along. Occasionally Matt also had his dog, Rex, a black Lab mix. But Rex wasn’t with us, and I’d left Zoey at HotRescues.
    “Do you want to talk about the Bethany Urber situation?” he asked once the server had brought our drinks.
    “Not especially,” I said. “You can get the tabloid version on TV and online, if you’re interested.”
    “I’m only interested because of its effect on you. I did hear that Mamie Spelling was found at the crime scene. Do you think she did it?”
    “Honestly? I don’t know. I can’t believe it of her, but she’s so different from the kind mentor I used to know.” I took a sip of beer.
    “Are you going to do anything more about the situation?”
    He and I both had gone through the angst of being potential murder suspects. Did I want to get involved again?
    But if I didn’t look into what had happened, would anyone pay attention to the fact that Mamie just might be innocent?
    “I don’t know,” I said. “Let’s change the subject.”
    I expected him to get into something personal, but was surprised—and maybe a little relieved—when he said, “Have you found anyone to bring in to HotRescues as a new animal trainer?”
    To make our residents, especially dogs, as adoptable as possible, it was important to have a part-time trainer on staff to help modify their behaviors. Our last trainer had gone a different direction with his life, and I’d been looking for a replacement.
    “No, I haven’t hired anyone yet.”
    “I’ve got a recommendation.” He proceeded to give me information about a trainer whom he’d come in contact with in some recent meetings, a guy named Gavin Mamo. “He’s Hawaiian by background, I think. I saw him in action with a couple of pit bulls that had been brought in from a dog fighting rescue. He calmed them pretty quickly.”
    “I’ll check him out,” I said. “Thanks.”
    Our pizza was served, and we talked about a rescue Matt had attended that the Small Animal Rescue Team, known as SmART—one of the Animal Services teams reporting to him—had undertaken that day. “Some kittens were born in a tiny area between buildings in a schoolyard. It wasn’t easy, but our team rescued them all.”
    I smiled. “Please congratulate them for me. They’re an amazing crew.” Ever since I’d seen them save those baby beagles from the storm drain at the puppy mill site, I’d watched SmART’s accomplishments on their Facebook page and YouTube. They did everything from climbing trees to rappelling down mountainsides.
    When we were done eating, Matt took the bill from the server. “My turn,” he said.
    “This time,” I agreed.
    We went back to the West L.A. Care Center, and he parked his official Animal Services car beside my Venza. Sadly, he had to go back to his office in the Valley and complete some paperwork, so spending time together that night wasn’t going to happen.
    “Like I said, I’ll keep you informed about the status of the animals rescued from the hoarding situation,” he told me. “It would help if your friend Mamie gave up any supposed legal rights to them, but that never happens. And . . . well, will you do something for me?”
    “What’s that?”
    “Stay away from Mamie and all that’s going on with her.”
    With my hand on the car door handle, I glared. “Why?”
    “Because I think there’s a lot of potential for you to be hurt, Lauren. The lady may be your friend, but she’s also, possibly, a nutcase. She may really have killed Bethany Urber.”
    But what if she didn’t? my mind niggled.
    There must have been something resistant in my look, since Matt sighed and reached for me. He held me tight, which was okay here. We were alone in the parking lot, since visiting hours for the shelter were over. I reveled in the feel of him against me, despite the controversy in our discussion.
    “Okay, let me amend what I said.” Matt spoke into my hair. “You know I worry about you, Lauren.” When I moved