The Fright of the Iguana Read Online Free Page A

outside, overlooking the not-so-glamorous parking lot. But this was an enviable April day in L.A.—no showers. No fooling—the sun was even out, so why hide inside?
    “You’re looking good,” I soon told my over-the-hill counterpart as we sat across from one another, munching on bagel chips as we awaited our meals. She wore a forest green sweat suit with stripes along the legs and sleeves. She had appeared slightly chunky to me when we’d first met at a Pet-Sitters Club of SoCal meeting a month or two ago, but I’d figured out that was simply because of the jack o’lantern contours of her round and friendly face. Now, though, the contours of her cheeks seemed to have shrunken. “Have you lost weight?”
    “I wish—although I haven’t eaten much for the last couple of days, thanks to the stress.”
    Perfect lead-in to what I needed to discuss. “Because of your pet-napping?” I’d left my suit jacket in the car, which allowed me to gorge while in slightly less lawyerly pale blouse and dark skirt. I still felt a smidgen overdressed. Even though the other patrons here came from upscale nearby neighborhoods and tended to dress the part, at this time of day their garb leaned toward casual ultrachic.
    “Yes,” Tracy said with a sigh, leaning back without even half a bagel chip in her hand. Her close-set eyes shut as if in pain. “It just happened yesterday. I posted a notice on the members-only part of the PSCSC website and asked everyone to keep the information to themselves, but I should have realized that not all members would see it there. I thought about sending it out on our e-mail loop. But when it happened, I hoped it was all a mistake, that I’d find Augie myself, or my client would know where he was. But when I contacted her, she was angry, even more upset than me. I was frantic. I still am.”
    “Oh, Tracy, I’m so sorry. Tell me all about it.” And why didn’t you call me right away? But I stayed silent. The poor thing was already riddled with guilt. And I couldn’t blame her—completely—for my own sorrowful situation.
    She began talking solemnly and sadly, crying over her iced tea. Her missing pet client was a little wire-haired dachshund. And, yes, there had been a note similar to mine.
    “Have you heard again from the kidnapper? Learned what he or she wants as ransom?”
    “Not yet. Oh, Kendra, I feel so awful.”
    “Yeah, tell me about it. Who’s our fellow victim?”
    “Wanda,” Tracy said with a gulping sigh as she sipped some soda and stopped crying.
    “Wanda? I’m surprised she didn’t get in touch with me.” Either. Wanda and I had bonded right away, since she, too, had a Cavalier—Basil, a red and white one, the color combination known as Blenheim.
    “She wanted to, but our ransom notes said not to tell anyone.”
    “Mine only mentioned cops,” I informed her. “But you posted info about yours on the website anyway?”
    “Members only,” she reminded me, “so I figured that, if I told everyone not to let it get any further, the thief wouldn’t find out.”
    That assumed no one in the club was involved—or might inadvertently know the napper and whisper their new knowledge to exactly the wrong person. But I didn’t mention that. “In any event, no matter what the notes said, you knew about Wanda.”
    “Only when she called me, after she saw my web post.”
    “Well, once the cats—or, in your situations, dogs—were out of the bag, you could have called all the members. Certainly everyone on the board.” Like me. I’d have appreciated a heads-up. And as soon as lunch was over, I’d check on all my other pet-sitting clients. Warn their owners. Not that I anticipated it would happen to me again, but who knew? “Who all is aware of this now?” I asked when Tracy didn’t respond to my comment.
    “As many members as possible. As soon as I heard from you and realized this had happened three times, I called a bunch of people and told them to call others and let