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state when he . . . when they lost track of him. He’d gone back earlier than he’d anticipated because Lois called and asked for his help. And his discretion.”
    My heart had speeded up to a phenomenal rate. At last! A clue about why Jeff had come back to California without a word even to anyone at his office, let alone me. “Do you know what she asked him to do?”
    “Why, investigate, of course. That’s what he does these days—that and install security systems.”
    I beat down my internal frustration. “Right. And the investigation—any idea what it involved?”
    “Not really. Only Lois knows. Although she did tell me she thought you’d be interested in it, once she gave Jeff the go-ahead to let you know.”
    “Me?”
    “She knows about you, too, of course. Anyway, she’s as frantic as I am to find out what’s happened to him. That’s why we’re both willing to talk to you. Not the police, and not any of Jeff’s employees, in case they’re involved. We don’t know you, but he does, and we understand that he trusts you. So, you call Lois now, and she’ll fill you in—as long as you promise your discretion. And as long as you keep us both informed about what you find out. Okay?”
    “I’ll need to know more about it first,” I equivocated. “I mean, if it’s against the law, or if I need to inform the authorities to protect Jeff, or—”
    Middle-aged Mother Hubbard laughed. “Jeff did say you were a lawyer, Kendra, and now I can tell that’s true.”
    And you ? I wanted to ask. What do you do for a living now? But the moment passed before I thought of a tactful way to inquire.
    “Just promise you’ll keep things as discreet as you ethically and legally can, will you? And keep me in the loop?”
    “I’ll do what I’m able, Irene. Now, can you give me Lois’s phone number?”
    THAT EVENING, LEXIE, Odin, and I were piled in my rental car, heading east on the 10 Freeway.
    I’d gotten my assistant Rachel’s promise to care for the pet-sitting clients I needed to visit that night, and dropped off all the keys, instructions, and my general gratitude with her.
    We were on our way to see Lois Terrone.
    She lived in Ontario—California, not Canada—which might have explained why Jeff sometimes flew on business trips from the alternate L.A. airport there, rather than Burbank or LAX. I’d assumed it was economics or convenience or both. Now, I realized he had a different reason.
    Why hadn’t he talked more about Lois? Or had my attention been focused elsewhere when he had?
    When I’d called Lois, she’d sounded urgently upset, yet eager to talk to me. I didn’t need to mention my pet situation, since she knew about Lexie and assumed I had possession of Odin, too.
    Obviously, Jeff and she had been in communication before his disappearance. So why was she such a mystery to me?
    Of course there was probably a lot about the guy I’d nervously agreed to move in with that I didn’t know.
    Might never know. . . . No, I wasn’t going to do that to myself. Not now. Hopefully, not ever.
    I’d done a MapQuest computer search for Lois’s address before departing from Jeff’s. She was located north and west of the Ontario Airport, south of the freeway. Due to these directions, I had no trouble locating her home. Its appearance amazed me. It resembled a fairy-tale cottage, with several pointy parts and a roof that looked thatched, even though the shingles were clearly of the fire-retardant kind, compulsory for Southern California. Its chimney was tall, and its façade a charming golden stucco. The yard was fenced—white pickets, naturally.
    I leashed the pups and walked through the front gate of this quaint and cozy setting. And was met by some loud barking from inside.
    “Uh-oh,” I said to my charges. “Maybe we’ll leave you in the car for a little while.” But before I could take care of that, the front door opened and a lady several inches shorter than my five-five, wearing dark slacks, a