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If an alien landed in Los Angeles, not that anyone would notice, they might come away thinking dogs ruled the city. Firstly, because there are so damn many of them. Walk down any street and you’ll see dozens. People take them everywhere: to work, to cafés, to dinner, to dates, you name it, dogs welcome. They would also notice that the dogs are carried, worshiped, catered to. Many restaurants have water and even food dishes outside, and people lovingly pick up their poop, seal it in specially designed bags and place it carefully where it will be safe. They might be misreading that last part, but they are aliens, after all.

Despite all that, the Los Angeles Dog and Cat Shelter is always full. People throw away dogs all the time, and because the city leans toward no-kill solutions to its pet problem, there is a steady business taking small dogs from LA and transporting them to shelters all over the country, where small dogs are at a premium and can be found homes. It’s a cottage industry.

Mason didn’t love the shelter. There was a sense of panic and despair that permeated everything, layered under the smell of disinfectant and cat litter. As it was a Sunday, there were plenty of people hovering around, presumably hoping to find the dog or cat that would complete their lives. Mason thought about it for a moment, then went into the dog side, knowing damn well that she’d walk out with a cat if she went in the other door. As if Phil wasn’t already mad enough.

She approached the desk where a woman was frowning at a computer screen.

“Hi, I’m…”

The woman held up a hand. Her sweatshirt said “Dog Fur Is My Glitter” and she wore a pin that said “Dog Whisperer” and a baseball hat that said “Who rescued who?” but her affect said if Mason interrupted her vital work she would eviscerate her with a dog toy and give less than zero fucks about it. Mason was familiar with the type and closed her mouth. She could wait.

Eventually, the woman sighed and hit the enter key with enough force to drive it down through the desk, and looked up at Mason. Her graying hair framed her face under the baseball hat and made Mason think of an Airedale. Context is everything.

“Surrendering an animal?”

Mason shook her head.

“Adopting?”

Mason shook her head again.

“Selling something?”

Third shake’s the charm.

“Nope, I’m looking for someone who can confirm Helen Eckenridge was volunteering here the night of the first.”

The woman deepened her frown. “Who’s asking?”

“I am.”

“And you are?”

“Natasha Mason. I’m investigating a crime.”

“Are you?” If you’d happened to flip open a dictionary to “skeptical,” there would have been a big fat picture of this woman. “Are you the police?”

“I am not.”

“Are you from the city? A licensed investigator? A friend of hers?”

“None of those. Just someone asking a question.”

“How do I know you’re not a crazy stalker?”

Mason was forced to admit the logic of this. “You don’t. I’m not trying to get her personal information. I just want to check that she was here when she claims to have been here. It was two weeks ago tomorrow night.”

“Sorry, volunteer information is personal and private.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

Mason thought for a moment. “I only need confirmation. I don’t need to know what she did while she was here. I just need to know if she was, in fact, here.”

“You’ll have to ask her.”

“I did. She said she was. I’m just…confirming it.”

“Can’t help you.”

Mason decided to accept this as fact. “Can I look at the dogs?”

“Sure.” If the woman was surprised by this change of tack, she didn’t show it. She pointed. “Through that door. Small dogs to the left, big dogs to the right.” She looked back at her computer, and Mason realized she had just ceased to exist. There were dogs to be saved. People could go fuck themselves, and she could go first.

She went through the door and turned right.

The big dogs were mostly pit bulls, sadly. Mason wandered the cages, smiling at the friendly, grinning, largely harmless and mostly confused dogs. They knew they were good boys and girls, they weren’t sure why they were here, but if anybody wanted to throw a ball or chase a stick they were totally down. Also down for just sitting and grinning, if that was what you wanted. Basically down for anything, because they were dogs, and we don’t deserve them.

In one corner she found a young woman lifting fifty-pound bags of dog food and offered to help.

“Do you volunteer here a lot?” she asked, as she effortlessly threw the sacks of dog food into a smaller room. It was obviously the main storage room; medications and veterinary equipment lined the walls.

“Yeah,” said the woman, somewhat shyly. “I like dogs better than people.” She’d been happy to accept the help and was secretly a little crushed out on this hip-looking chick who could lob a fifty-pound bag of food as easily as she chucked a bag of dog treats.

“I get that,” said Mason. “I’m partial to cats myself.”

“Oh, I like cats, too,” said the woman. “I have four.”

“That’s a nice round number.”

The woman laughed. “They’re nice round cats.”

Mason said, “My friend volunteers here, too. You might know her? Helen?”

The woman nodded. “I know Helen! She’s always here on Wednesdays. I do Mondays but also Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Sometimes Fridays. And Sundays sometimes, like today.”

Mason laughed. “So, most every night, then?”

“Yeah.” The woman was somewhat rueful. “I don’t have much of a life outside, to be honest. I’m happiest in here.” She watched as Mason finished unloading the last of the dog food. “Helen likes it, too. She was here three times the other week. Normally, she just does Wednesdays, but we were both here that Sunday and part of Monday, too. In the evening.”

“Oh yeah? Week before last?”

“Yeah. We were taking inventory, I remember. I think that’s why she came in; we needed all hands on deck. We counted every last bag of food, every medical supply, every blanket and towel. We finished up on the Monday evening after the shelter was closed, and she was there, too.”

“Wow, that’s a lot,” said Mason. “You must have been here all night.”

The woman shrugged. “I was; other people came and went.”

“And Helen?”

“I didn’t see her leave,” said the woman, frowning a little at Mason. “She was doing this wing and I was on the other side. The cat side.”

“What about last Saturday. Were you here then?”

“Yeah. Didn’t see Helen, though.” The girl looked at Mason for a moment, and Mason worried she was getting suspicious. But then she said, “I don’t suppose you feel like helping me move some cat litter, do you? We just got a delivery and there are two dozen fifty-pound bags of that, too.”

“I would be thrilled,” said Mason. “Upper body done for the day, right?”

The woman nodded, and turned to lead the way to the loading dock. With all this help, she was going to have time to spend in the kitten room. Score.

Later, driving home, Mason called Will.

“Helen was at the animal shelter the day before Tony was killed, doing inventory,” she said. “And at least briefly on the night he was killed. However, she wasn’t there the night of Tony’s funeral, so I suppose she could have driven to Palm Springs and killed Jack Simon, although I have no idea why she would. I have a witness for the night of Tony’s murder, but she can’t confirm what time Helen left.”

“Wait, you got that harridan at the front desk to confirm it? She wasn’t interested in helping me at all. I think I had two legs too few.”

Mason laughed. “I had to go at it another way. She wasn’t interested in me, either. Too hairless.” She added, “It was unusual for Helen to be there so much, though. She’s normally just there on Wednesdays. Maybe she just needed some animal companionship, and they were doing inventory, like I said. The witness said everybody who volunteers was basically there for that.”

Will made a noise. “Did we ever find out where Christine was that night, the night Tony was killed?”

“Yeah, she was at Cedars, with Jade Solomon and Cody.”

“All night?”

“Most of it. We don’t have eyes on Christine the whole time, though. Cody and Jade alibi each other, but Christine was elsewhere in the hospital. They left together, though. We have a TMZ photo. None of them were allowed to use their phones.” Mason slowed for a red light. “Which is presumably why Tony left Christine a voicemail message, rather than actually speaking to her. She says he told her Julia had agreed to be in The Codex . She said it at the funeral. We heard the message.” She thought for a moment. “What about the night of the funeral?”

“Well, Jason Reed and Christine were at the funeral after party…”

“There was a funeral after party?” Mason rolled her eyes. “What about Helen? Jade?”

“Jade was there. Helen I’m not sure. Cody was not there; he said he went back to the studio to work, and that was before he even knew he was inheriting the studio. I guess that work ethic is why Tony left it to him.” He paused. “Hey, are you going to Cinespia to see The Codex ? Just cause Julia’s not going doesn’t mean we can’t.”

“Good point. You going to dress up?”

“Yeah,” he replied, and Mason could hear the grin in his voice. “I’m wearing the silver catsuit.”

“That’ll look nice,” said Mason. “And they can bury you in it once Julia tears your head off.”

“You gonna dress up?”

“Not in a million years.”

Will laughed. “Hang out with Julia long enough, you’ll find yourself in costume before you know it. Good night, Mason.”

“Good night, Will.”