Page 65 of Beau
“I think you should cancel that meeting with Holzhauer.”
“Why?” she asked. When he hesitated, her lips pressed into a thin line. “I have a feeling I’m not going to like this.”
“I know you’re not going to like what I have to say.” He hooked her arm and led her into the house, closing and locking the back door. “Let’s get Lady to the vet. I’ll fill you in on the way.” He didn’t stop until he had her out the front door and locked it securely, although hitmen like Lansky and Slash wouldn’t let a little thing like a door lock stop them. It wouldn’t even slow them down.
By the time they reached the vet’s office, Aurelie sat perfectly still in the passenger seat, still holding Lady, stroking her in short, jerky motions.
“Two hitmen,” she whispered. “You’d think I’d killed one of the Marceaux family to warrant two hitmen.” She looked across the console, meeting his gaze. “All because they don’t want me to protect the bayou?” She shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense. I’m nobody in the grand scheme of things.”
“Apparently, you’re somebody who threatens the Cajun Mafia.” He slid out of his seat, rounded the truck to her door and helped her to the ground.
Aurelie clutched the little dog in her arms. “As much as I don’t want to be bullied into stepping back from my one-on-ones with the CEOs of the companies with the worst track records with the EPA,” she started, “I think you’re right.”
Beau cupped her elbow and walked with her toward the entrance of the vet clinic. “Right about what?”
“I’m going to postpone my meeting with Holzhauer,” she said as he held the door for her. “Anything I have to say to him will be trumped by whatever hold Manny Marceaux has on him.” She walked into the clinic and stepped up to the counter.
Once the receptionist took her information, she sat beside Beau as they waited to be called into an examination room.
Less than a minute later, a vet tech led them into a room with a stainless-steel examination table and two plastic chairs against the wall.
Lady shivered so violently in Aurelie’s arms that Beau feared she’d rattle some bones loose.
The veterinarian entered. A tall man with an average build, he smiled and asked why they’d brought the dog in.
Aurelie told him about Lady, who had appeared matted and hungry in the kitchen of the house they were renting.
“Do you know how long she’s been on her own? May I?” The vet took Lady from Aurelie and checked her over from nose to tail.
“The man who owned the house died a couple of months ago. She could’ve been overlooked by the people who discovered the man’s body, or she could’ve been grieving for the old man and ran scared into the woods.” Aurelie shrugged. “Is she going to be okay?”
“Other than a few fleas and a little razor burn, she appears to be fine. Without a stool sample, I can’t check for worms. Given the fact she’s been living in the woods, possibly subsisting on bugs and vegetation, I’m inclined to put her on a flea and tick deterrent, de-worming medication, an antibiotic to take care of anything she might have picked up and a nutritional supplement until she puts on a little weight.”
The vet handed Lady to Aurelie. “She appears to have held her own in the wild. A few weeks of healthy food, lots of cuddles and she’ll be fine.”
They picked up the medications at the reception desk and added a bag full of dog treats. Beau paid the bill.
The vet reappeared. “You know, we should run the microchip reader and see if we can locate her owner.” He nodded to the receptionist.
She rummaged in the desk and pulled out a reader, turned it on and handed it to the vet.
The vet ran the reader over Lady, moving slowly until a number appeared. “Ah,” he said. “She does have a microchip. Let me see if we can locate the chip company and find the owner.”
The veterinarian sat at a computer terminal and entered the number in a registry database.
Aurelie held Lady, stroking her fur, her brow wrinkled.
Beau slipped an arm around her waist, holding Aurelie lightly, knowing she was already attached to the dog.
“Here it is,” the vet said. “The dog belongs to Robbie and Myra Pearson. Do you want the phone number so you can call and let them know their dog has been found?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Beau said. “The dog’s owners are deceased.”
The vet frowned. “I’m sorry. Would you and your wife like me to take the dog and turn it over to a shelter?”
Aurelie half-turned away, shielding Lady. “No.”
The vet smiled. “If you’re keeping her, you’ll want to get in touch with the microchip company and have them change the contact information in case the dog gets lost again.”