Like now. I’d possibly zeroed in on Bethany’s killer, but I didn’t want to tell the police my suspicions of Cricket without at least some evidence to back it up. No doubt they’d looked at her, too. Maybe they still were considering her. That could be why Mamie hadn’t been arrested.

But their perspective would be different from mine. Official. I could go places and ask things they couldn’t under the law, or might not even think of doing.

Which was why I was on my way to Redondo Beach on Thursday morning.

Raelene Elder was the chief administrator of Redondo Rescues. I’d called to let her know I was coming, something I didn’t always do lately with people I wanted to talk to. But at least when I’d dropped in at Sylvia’s rescue facility yesterday, I’d been halfway there after my hair appointment with Nalla.

That’s why I was musing about obsession. I’d been thinking about helping to solve Bethany’s murder ever since she died, created my business plan for keeping track of all I learned, and even researched it in various ways. In the past few days, I’d talked to a lot of people. Felt as if I was making progress—and I wanted to get this thing done at last.

Redondo Rescues turned out not to be especially near the beach for which it was named. In fact, it was closer to Sylvia’s shelter in nearby Torrance than I’d realized.

Even though Redondo Beach was considered somewhat affluent, I found Raelene’s shelter only a bit nicer than Mamie’s on the outside. The fence around it was chain-link and seemed dilapidated, sagging here and there. The onestory building at the side of the property could have used some work, too.

I opened the gate and walked in. Raelene must have been watching for me. She strode out of the building, a smile on her face. Her puffy yellow hair was in disarray, but she obviously wasn’t trying to impress anyone here, the way she may have been at the PST meetings. She wore what was a uniform of sorts for all of us shelter administrators, our assistants and employees: a shirt with our facility’s logo—hers was yellow—over jeans.

“Lauren, how nice of you to come. Let me show you around.”

What impressed me most about Redondo Rescues was the number of people around taking care of the animals. I didn’t know how many were employees and how many were volunteers, but there appeared to be a high ratio of humans to residents. The animals were housed in a series of elongated buildings kept clean and mostly odor-free.

The animals could have used more toys and other amenities like I was fortunate enough to get from HotPets, but the dogs were obviously walked frequently, judging by notes posted on bulletin boards in each area, and were played with, too.

I gushed over those residents, a lot more canine than feline, all obviously well cared for. So what if the money around here went into pet care and not so much into aesthetics?

I’m not especially known for tact, nor did I want to spend a lot of time here when I had other people to chat with and, more important, my own shelter to run. As we headed toward the front building again, I jumped right in.

“I’m still collecting whatever information I can about Bethany, Raelene. A lot of what’s been sent to me already is kind of what I expected—a combination of good and bad.” I looked up, since Raelene was taller than me. Equally slim, though. “Some of it suggests that she was . . . well, hard on people. That she’d do anything to get rescuers to join Pet Shelters Together. Was that your experience?”

She didn’t love Bethany, either, but she told me that she’d liked the concept enough to join anyway, as Sylvia had.

“What about Cricket? How is she doing so far as the head of the network?”

Raelene shook her head as our gazes met. “Hard to tell. It hasn’t been very long. But I get the impression that she’ll be even worse than her predecessor. If she is . . . well, as I said, I like the concept, but it has to work for me in practice. Redondo Rescues may secede. I’m even thinking of starting a different network and seeing if anyone from the group will join me.”

“I’ll bet they would,” I said. “So . . . have you spoken with anyone else about this? I mean, about how difficult Cricket is.” I knew at least a partial answer, since Sylvia had already told me about overhearing a conversation between Raelene and Darya.

“Sure, a few people in PST. I’ve hinted at my idea of a competitive network but haven’t come out and suggested it yet.”

“I’d love to know about it when you do.” I paused, then asked, “How did Cricket and Bethany get along together?” Okay, maybe I would throw in a dash of tact here. “If Cricket has taken Bethany’s positions on how to run the network and run with them, can I assume they were good friends?”

Raelene laughed. “I get it. You’re zeroing in on Cricket as doing Bethany in, instead of Mamie. My opinion? It could have been either of them, for different reasons. Hey, maybe you could get the cops to arrest them both, as some kind of conspiracy.” At my expression, she shrugged. “Or not. I know you’re hoping to clear Mamie. Anyway, keep me informed, to the extent you can. I’m really interested in learning the truth.”

I had an appointment early that afternoon for Gavin Mamo to come to HotRescues and demonstrate his training abilities on one of our new residents, Flash—a golden Lab that Angie, our vet tech, had wrested from a high-kill shelter in San Bernardino County the day before the exuberant one-year-old was scheduled to be put down. The assessment had been that no one would want to adopt an untrainable dog like him.

My opinion? Take him in, get someone good to start his training, then find him the right home.

It had been more than a week since I’d visited Gavin at his Westwood training center and negotiated possible terms of part-time employment with him, but I hadn’t been as diligent as I’d hoped about following up with him—not till Angie called me, somewhat frantic, about her last-minute rescue.

Now, Gavin would have to prove himself to me in an especially difficult situation, a sort of trial by fire.

Seemed appropriate with a dog named Flash.

Before going to see Raelene, I’d left Zoey at HotRescues with Brooke, early that morning. No new drop-offs then, fortunately. That was something else I needed to follow up on—my idea of who’d been our supposed owner-relinquisher. I’d do that in a short while, since I had a thought about how to approach it.

Now, I parked and entered the welcome area—and was glad to see Nina speaking with a couple who sounded interested in adoption. I waved at her and headed to my office to drop off my purse, but she called after me, “Gavin Mamo’s here. Bev is showing him around.”

“Thanks,” I said. Nina had shut Zoey inside my office, and my sweet dog greeted me with such enthusiasm that I laughed and knelt and hugged her. “I need for you to stay inside for now, sweetie,” I told her, nuzzling against her soft fur. “I’ll take you on a long walk in a bit, just the two of us. I promise.” She licked my face as I hugged her again, acknowledging that she understood and forgave me for not making our walk immediate.

I was soon outside in the shelter area, tracking them down. Our outspoken senior volunteer Bev was an excellent choice for giving our new trainer a tour. She’d tell him her opinion on all our residents and their state of discipline and adoptability. Most often, I agreed with her.

Unsurprisingly, I found them at the enclosure around the back corner where Flash now lived. They were outside the gated area talking to the dog, who leaped around in obvious joy at the attention.

Not a good sign, I thought. Shouldn’t a skilled trainer encourage better behavior, get him calmed faster?

Bev apparently thought so. Her face was even more lined than usual as she glared, and she drew herself up notwithstanding her characteristic slouch. “Why’s he still jumping?” she demanded, her scowl leveled on Gavin.

He looked huge, compared with Bev. I studied him to determine how well he took her criticism, which could be a factor in his longevity here.

He grinned at her, then me, baring gleaming white teeth that contrasted brightly with his deep skin tone. He wore a bright green, blue-and-yellow Hawaiian shirt that day, which emphasized his background. “We’re just sizing each other up.” He turned his large body back toward the enclosure. “I’m in charge now,” he said to Flash. I noticed he’d wrapped a leash around his hand, and he loosened it so it dangled. “Okay if I go in?” He looked at me for permission, and I added a few points in his favor.

“Go for it,” I said.

He opened the gate and entered the enclosure. Flash leaped up in obvious ecstasy.

“Sit.” The word Gavin uttered was low and brief. Yeah, sure, I thought—and was amazed to see Flash obey.

I looked at Gavin’s body language. He towered over the dog even more than he did over most people. His arm was bent, his fist raised, but not, I thought, as a threat.

“Good dog.” He pulled a treat from his pocket and gave it to Flash. Then he snapped the leash on and led the dog out through the gate.

Which Flash evidently took to mean he was liberated. He dashed forward, obviously attempting to run.

Gavin quickly but gently snapped the leash and brought Flash back to his side. “Heel,” he said in the same firm voice he’d initially used on the pup. Flash didn’t appear to know the command, but at least he stopped pulling. And got yet another treat.

Gavin led Flash to our visitors’ park along the side rear of the shelter. There, I heard a lot of muffled hammering and sawing noises from the property next door—an improvement from the louder sound effects we’d heard a lot of during the last few weeks. I supposed that was because most of the outside work on the new building was complete and the contractors were working on finishing the inside.

Bev and I stayed at the outer entry to the park, watching as Gavin worked with Flash. The pup seemed amenable to taking orders at first, then got tired of it and tried again to run away. Gavin kept pulling him back, firmly yet gently, and repeating a few basic commands: sit, stay, down, heel. He continued removing small treats from his pocket and rewarding Flash for good behavior.

Soon, Flash appeared to concede that Gavin was alpha in this small pack. When the two of them started to exit the park, Flash trotted at Gavin’s side, the leash slack enough to demonstrate that he wasn’t been coerced to stay there.

I smiled at Gavin. He smiled at me.

“Next?” he said.