By then, only a couple of days had passed since I’d handed my theory and rationale over to the cops. Nothing had happened. At least I didn’t think so. Even if the media hadn’t gotten word about the focus on any different suspects in Bethany’s murder, Brooke would have heard something from Antonio.

But she had assured me yesterday, and now today, that he hadn’t let her in on anything the LAPD might be doing.

“That doesn’t mean they’re not actively pursuing what you gave them,” she assured me early on Sunday morning when Zoey and I arrived at HotRescues. “But they can’t tell regular citizens, even me, without potentially spoiling their case.”

So, I just went about my regular business, making sure our residents were well cared for. Planning for our big fund-raiser, which would take place a week from today. Encouraging visitors to fill out our paperwork and, if they met our standards, adopt a dog or cat. Meeting with people who’d already been approved and had come to pick up their newest family members. And doing home visits.

That day, I called first, as I usually did. First, I went to the Northridge home where someone had just adopted a cat this week. I hadn’t met the lady but had relied on her paperwork, plus recommendations from Nina, Mona, and Angie. All had liked her, and she took the cat home the day after the initial visit.

After I met her at her home, I couldn’t help but agree with their opinions. I felt certain that the year-old Siamese mix she’d adopted would have a good forever home.

I next stopped at the people who’d referred her to HotRescues. The Tarbets were wonderful about doing that, and I wanted to thank them. I also wanted to invite them to our fund-raiser next weekend.

Davie was home, along with Margie. The teenager was the one to answer the door. “Hi, Lauren! Come in.”

“I can’t stay long,” I said. “Your mother home?” She was, and she joined us in their living room with Nemo, Moe, and Beardsley. I chatted with them for a while, and thanked them for their latest referral, one of many recently. “It feels wonderful to save animals, doesn’t it, Davie?”

He looked a little confused—and a little sheepish. But all he said was, “Mom’s the one to thank. She’s the one who gives out the most referrals.”

“But you try to help, too, don’t you? Anyway, come to our fund-raiser a week from today. I’ll get the entrance donation waived for you, and you might enjoy seeing the Small Animal Rescue Team give a demonstration. Plus, there are some things I’d love to show you at HotRescues, including our newest facilities.”

When I left, I felt sure they’d be there. A good thing. I intended to make it an event that Davie in particular wouldn’t forget.

I talked to Mamie a couple of times. She sounded depressed, and I attempted to cheer her without giving her particulars.

Until someone else was arrested for Bethany’s murder, she remained a suspect. I knew the cops were smart, and I’d given them a wonderful lead. But you never knew . . .

Besides, I could be wrong. Just in case, I studied my suspect files daily, hoping to see something I had missed. Nothing leaped out at me, though. And my accuracy and intuition were usually as spot-on as a Las Vegas odds-maker’s.

Yet I started to worry. I could have trotted down the wrong path in my eagerness to chase an answer I liked. Maybe I’d been right when I’d believed it was Cricket. Maybe Mamie was guilty after all.

Had I missed something? Was it someone I hadn’t even considered seriously? Heck, I wasn’t really a detective. I’d just been darned lucky—and smart—when I’d solved the last murder I’d been involved with . . . the one where I’d been the primary suspect.

Maybe I should just back off and avoid all this frustration. But that would cause frustration of another kind.

I at least got Mamie interested in coming to our fund-raiser and SmART demonstration that weekend. And to see our animals—which by then would include more of those she had considered hers. Despite her expression of interest a while back, she hadn’t returned to HotRescues in the interim.

Matt had let me know there were a bunch more animals from Mamie’s hoarding available to be picked up. Otherwise, they’d be moved to one of the overcrowded city care centers—which would put their longevity in ultimate danger. I’d immediately notified the shelter managers and others who viewed the Southern California Rescuers Web site, including Kathy Georgio and Ilona Graye. I let Cricket know, too, and she promised that, after she spoke with her members, there would be no released animal left behind. Would she use Bethany’s tactics? I didn’t ask—not when pets’ lives could be at stake.

I was at the Northeast Valley Animal Care Center on Thursday at the time Matt prescribed, along with Pete Engersol to help, and we accepted around a dozen dogs and cats. Kathy, Ilona, and some other shelter directors I knew from the Southern California Rescuers Web site, from as far away as Palm Springs and San Diego, were there, too. So were Cricket, Sylvia, Raelene, and even Darya. I acted entirely cordial with Darya, without hinting what I knew—or thought I did. Fortunately, she only had room for one or two animals, and I assumed she was there only because Cricket had insisted on it.

I wondered what would happen if Darya was arrested. When I’d visited her shelter, I had recalled that she wasn’t the first director there. She wouldn’t be the last, either. Right now, she had a staff and a husband, so presumably the animals at Happy Saved Animals would still be well cared for.

One way or another, I’d make sure of it.

Matt was there when we picked up the animals. I wanted to give him a big, grateful kiss, but we both decided to wait till we were alone together. He promised me he’d be at the HotRescues fund-raiser on Sunday. Plus, we made arrangements to have dinner together on Friday night.

I had to cancel out on that, though. Friday was the day Brooke got the call from Antonio. The Robbery Homicide Division had in fact been able to get hard evidence to prove the allegations I’d made.

Darya Price was about to be arrested.

I was vindicated! I’d not only chosen the right suspect, but I’d helped to point the cops in her direction.

“You know this is a special favor to me.” Brooke sat in the passenger seat of my Venza, and her glowing smile lit her entire face. “I mean, our getting notice and an unofficial invitation to watch, as long as we stay out of the way.”

“Your Antonio seems like a great guy . . . for a cop.”

She laughed. “What do you mean, seems?”

We reached the street where Happy Saved Animals was located. I’d entered last time through a rear courtyard. Was that the best place to hang out now? I wasn’t sure, but the entrance from the main street was a gate in a large fence that obscured what was beyond it. I noticed a few police cars parked in the vicinity and mentioned our dilemma to Brooke.

She made a quick call to Antonio. “Stay here,” she said. “This will be fine.”

It was. We couldn’t tell much of what was happening, but in about half an hour the gate opened and Darya came out, surrounded by cops. She appeared to be cuffed, with her hands behind her. The police ushered her into the back of one of the marked cars, and it drove off.

“So justice has triumphed again,” Brooke said.

“Amen,” I responded, hoping—and believing—it was true.

Meantime, Lan had disappeared and was being sought as a person of interest in the ongoing investigation.

A PST pin had unsurprisingly been found at the shelter, in Darya’s office. Detectives had questioned Cricket, and she’d told them what she had divulged to me: that Darya had received a second one after losing the first. Since the organization kept close watch on its pins, the logical conclusion was that the one found at the site of Bethany’s murder was one of Darya’s. And since there had been no indication that anyone else had taken the missing one, the assumption was that Darya had found it.

A lot of this was circumstantial evidence. So was the fact that Darya had argued with Bethany a lot, including the day before the murder.

What wasn’t quite so circumstantial was the fact that Better Than Any Pet Rescues was equipped with security cameras, similar to those at HotRescues. That hadn’t been made public. Mamie’s car had been seen entering the parking lot, which was no surprise, since she was found there. Other vehicles had come and gone, too, including Darya’s and her husband, Lan’s—again no surprise, thanks to the meeting that night. But although Lan’s had driven away with the rest of the crowd, Darya had stayed late, allegedly to help Bethany clean up. She had already been questioned over and over by the police, since she might have been the last one besides the murderer to see Bethany alive.

Or she might have been the murderer. The cops had been aware of that, which was one reason Mamie had remained free. What I’d told them hadn’t made them turn the official investigation in an entirely different direction. Even so, my little bits of icing on their investigatory cake—the reason behind the arguments between Darya and Bethany, consisting of Bethany’s threats to reveal the financial condition of Happy Saved Animals to the world, plus the added swirl of the missing pin—had provided enough evidence to finally lead to the arrest.

The media had learned about the arrest, too, and had vans and helicopters and reporters capturing the situation on film. It would be on the news that night.

Whatever the consequences ultimately were for Mamie’s hoarding—and she should receive some credit against the animal cruelty charges for her decision to surrender her pets—she would not be arrested for Bethany’s murder.

Except for finally doing the memorial Web site for Bethany that I’d promised the PST members, my involvement in the killing was finally over.