Hair of the Dog (16 page)

“Were you ever tempted to take matters into your own hands?”

“You mean like buying a gun and shooting him?” Ann made a sound that was half laugh, half snort. “I can't say I didn't fantasize about it. But that's all it was, a fantasy. Besides, if I had actually shot the bastard, I'd have aimed lower.”

This time she did laugh, and I joined in. Fleur lifted her head in annoyance and flopped in the other direction. I reached down and ran a hand down the hard-packed muscle in her loin. Her coat was short and silky smooth.

“I'm just curious,” I said. “Did you ever think about talking to Alicia about this?”

“No. Why would I?”

“Well, they were living together. Presumably she had some influence over him ...”

Ann was shaking her head, but I plowed on regardless. “Not even in revenge? I can't imagine Alicia'd have been happy to find out Barry was thinking things like that about other women.”

“Alicia might not have been happy, but I doubt she'd have been surprised. It's not like she didn't flirt pretty good herself.”

That was news. “With Barry, you mean, when she was still with Bill?” I asked, trying to sort things out. “Or after?”

“Both,” Ann confirmed. “That's just the way Alicia is. Men love being buttered up like that, and believe me, she's good at it.”

“Did you ever notice her with any one man in particular?”

“No, mostly they seem to be clients of Barry's. Or sometimes prospective clients. Being the cretin he was, Barry needed all the good PR he could get. And Alicia could work a dog show like a pro.

“You'd see her walking some man around a show ground, showing him the sights, and the next thing you know Barry had a new set of dogs in his string. Of course, sometimes it backfired and went the other way. Let's just say I don't think Alicia was friends with too many of the wives.”

I could certainly follow the logic there.

“Listen,” said Ann, her features hardening. “The best thing about all this is that Barry Turk's gone. I don't necessarily care how or why. Just the fact that he's never going to bother anyone again is enough for me.”

Davey and I borrowed Aunt Peg's beach pass and spent that afternoon and the next one at the Greenwich beach. We swam in Long Island Sound, hiked on the trails, and ate all sorts of junk food from the snack bar. The only practical thought I entertained had to do with the frequent application of high SPF lotion, and I refused to think at all about dog shows, or sexual harassment, or babies who might shortly be born fatherless.

By the time the Elm City dog show rolled around that weekend, I was feeling refreshed and ready to go. I had the beginnings of a tan and a few blond highlights in my hair. When Davey sat beside me on the front seat of the Volvo and sang “The Itsy-Bitsy Spider” for most of the ride to the show ground, I even managed to join in for a chorus or two.

Though it was July, the club had chosen to hold their show at an indoor location. Keeping dogs safe in what may turn out to be extreme heat is always a consideration at summer shows. Luckily for Elm City, they'd drawn beautiful weather. The big doors on all four sides of the building were open wide. The space inside was large and airy with ample room for grooming, big rings, and a variety of doggy concessions.

Davey took one look at the dog toys displayed at the Cherrybrook booth and pulled me that way. “For Faith,” he said earnestly, his gaze fixed on a Day-Glo, rubber boomerang. “Every time she has to stay home, you tell her she can come next time. It isn't fair.”

I had to admit I agreed with him. In fact, I'd been planning to bring the Poodle to the show with us until a last-minute call from Peg had scotched the idea. “Is she freshly clipped and bathed?” she asked.

“No,” I'd admitted reluctantly.

“Then she's in no shape to be seen.” Moses had delivered tablets down from the mountaintop with the same tone of authority.

So now I knew. Next time I'd bathe and clip Faith in advance.

Looking over the choices at the concession stand, I picked up a sheepskin toy shaped like a dinosaur. “How about one of these? Faith chewed up her last one.”

“Nah.” At the age of almost six, stuffed animals are beneath my son's regard. “This one.”

The boomerang was hard and shiny and looked quite capable of breaking windows when flung, rather than chewed, as the manufacturer had no doubt intended. “Let's think about it, okay? We'll stop back at the end of the day and pick up something then.”

Sighing loudly, Davey allowed himself to be led away. Never one to miss an opportunity, he milked the situation for a stop at the food stand, which was why we arrived at Peg's setup carrying a plate of brownies.

Her eyes lit up at the sight of us. “No wonder you're my favorite niece,” she said, helping herself before the plate had even touched down on top of Tory's crate. “Did you bring tea?”

No sense in pointing out that I was her only niece. I held out a white plastic cup.

“You should use paper cups,” said Davey. “Those are bad for the environment. We learned that in economy.”

“I think he means ecology,” I said, opening out a folding chair and getting him settled with his bag of toys.

Aunt Peg lifted out the Lipton tea bag and set it aside. “Ecology, economy.” She stared at Davey. “What grade are you in?”

“First,” he told her proudly. Having completed kindergarten the year before, he'd be entering first grade in the fall.

“That's what I thought. When I was in first grade, we played with blocks and learned how to write our names.”

“I can already write my name. Want to see?” Davey pulled out a pencil and piece of paper and went to work.

“Alicia Devane came by a few minutes ago,” Aunt Peg told me. She eyed the plate of brownies for a moment, then selected another. “She asked if you were coming today. I think she wants to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“She didn't say, but she certainly looked pleased about something. Pregnancy must agree with her.”

“It didn't earlier. Maybe she's getting past the morning-sickness stage.” And maybe the accidents she'd been having had stopped. Whatever the reason, I was glad to hear that Alicia was doing better.

“Do I smell brownies?” Terry Denunzio came up the aisle with a Shih Tzu tucked beneath his arm. He stopped and sniffed the air. “I knew there was a reason why we let Peg squeeze in beside us.”

“Help yourself.” I waved toward the plate.

“Homemade?”

“Only if the lady at the concession stand baked this morning.”

“Never mind.” Terry snagged the biggest and popped it into his mouth. “I'll suffer through.”

“Did you see which way Alicia went?” I asked Peg.

“Alicia Devane?” said Terry. “I just saw her. She and Bill were watching German Shepherds with Austin Beamish.”

“I wonder what they were doing with him.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Terry laughed. “Haven't you figured that out yet? Everybody knows everybody around here.”

“Austin has a Shepherd special too,” said Peg. “He's not as good as Midas, but he does his share of winning.”

“Maybe I'll go have a look. Will you keep an eye on Davey?”

“Watch him?” said Terry. “Bribe me with another brownie, and I'll do the child up and show him.”

Grinning, I held out the plate. “I was talking to Aunt Peg.”

“Too bad.” Terry sounded disappointed. Brownie in hand, he slid past me and headed toward the next setup. “Compared to some of the competition I've seen today, I probably could have won.”

According to the schedule in the front of the catalogue, German Shepherds were showing in ring twelve on the other side of the building. I also looked in the exhibitors' index and saw that Christine Franken, the other woman whose name Bertie had given me, had three Miniature Pinschers entered. Seeing her here at the show would sure beat driving to Pennsylvania. I decided to check the area around the Toy rings first.

It turned out Christine was easy to find. I simply stopped at the first Min Pin I saw and asked its owner if he knew her. “Sure,” he said, pointing. “Right over there.”

Min Pins are a smooth-haired breed, so they don't require much preparation for the ring. Christine Franken didn't have a grooming table set up, only a small bank of crates and a chair. She was thumbing through the latest issue of
Dog Scene
magazine, and looked up as I approached.

She was a striking woman in her mid-thirties. Short black hair set off a dramatic bone structure, and her lips were outlined in a vivid shade of red that few people could carry. On her, it looked good.

I held out my hand and introduced myself. “Alberta Kennedy said you'd be willing to talk to me about Barry Turk.”

“I guess so.” There was a small stool next to her chair, and Christine cleared the stuff that had been piled on top. “Here, sit down. You weren't a friend of his, were you?”

“No. I barely knew him. We certainly weren't friends.”

“Well, that's a start. I thought the man was an out-and-out snake.”

“You weren't alone. I've spoken with Ann Leeds.”

“Yeah, she had her problems with him too. Good old Barry, he really got around.”

“Ann told me she wanted to file a complaint, but that nobody else was willing to go along.”

Christine stared down at the magazine in her lap. A two-page ad showed a Basset Hound named BlackJack winning Best in Show, but I didn't think that was what she was looking at. “I couldn't see the point,” she said finally. “It's not as though it would have stopped him.”

“You don't think so?”

“I know so. I've been showing a long time, I know how things work. I had my problems with Barry a while ago. I'd been showing my own dogs for years and doing some handling for my friends. I was good at it, good enough to think about setting myself up as a pro.

“God knows it's not an easy life, but I thought I had a shot. I even had my first big client. I guess that's when Barry decided to show me just how rough the competition could get.”

“What happened?”

Christine shook her head. “You know that saying, If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen? Well, I guess I just couldn't take the heat. After a while I began to dread going into the ring. Trust me, an attitude like that doesn't get you many wins.”

“And yet here you are, still showing your dogs.”

“
My
dogs, right. But not anybody else's,” Christine said bitterly. “That dream ended five years ago, thanks to Barry Turk. It got so that I wasn't winning enough to satisfy my biggest client, and once he pulled out, I was pretty much out of business.

“After that Turk left me alone. I wasn't a threat anymore, you know? As far as I'm concerned, he got what he had coming to him.”

“Any thoughts on who might have killed him?”

For the first time, Christine smiled. “I don't know, but when you find out, let me know. I'd like to shake the guy's hand.”

 

By the time I made it over to the German Shepherd ring, Alicia and Bill were gone. Austin was still watching the judging, however, and he'd been joined by Ron and Viv Pullman.

“Hi, Melanie.” Austin held out a welcoming hand as I approached. In true dog show fashion, he also kept one eye on the action in the ring. “Are you a Shepherd fan?”

“Not really—”

“Don't let that worry you,” said Ron. “Austin isn't either. The only reason he likes the breed is that he's got one that's winning.”

“Ron,” Viv said quietly, laying a hand on her husband's arm. “Be nice.”

Her hair tumbled to her shoulders in soft waves, the sort of style that looked entirely natural, but started with a hundred-dollar haircut. Her blouse was silk and the cream-colored linen pants she wore with it had not a single wrinkle. Still, there were lines of strain on either side of her mouth that I hadn't noticed before, and the set of her shoulders was tight.

“Yes, Ron, be nice.” Austin's smile bared his teeth but didn't reach his eyes. “We wouldn't want Melanie to get the wrong impression.”

Viv shot me an apologetic look.

Mostly because she looked so uncomfortable, I stepped between Viv and Austin and changed the subject. “Which one is yours?” I asked.

Asking a dog person about their dog is like asking a mother about her baby. You'll learn more than you ever wanted to know.

“Gunter,” said Austin pointing. “He's standing second in line.”

I looked and saw a muscular, deep-bodied black-and-tan dog with sweeping hindquarter angulation and an alert expression. As the judge turned her gaze down the line of specials, Gunter's handler tossed a small piece of liver out onto the mat. The Shepherd followed the treat's flight with his eyes, but didn't move an inch.

“He's very handsome,” I said. It's always a safe comment. Somewhat akin to assuring other mothers at the school play that their child is the one on the stage with the most talent.

“Thank you. I got him in California. He's rather young, but I think he's coming along nicely.”

Evidently so did the judge. When she finished going over the class, she moved Gunter to the front of the line. Viv tensed slightly with excitement. Ron looked bored. Austin, who had the most at stake, kept his expression neutral.

“That's it,” said Viv as the judge sent the line of dogs around the ring.

“Not yet,” Austin said. “Not until she points.”

The judge motioned to Gunter for Best of Breed.

Viv clapped her hands enthusiastically. Austin finally managed a grin. Ron was staring off toward Irish Wolfhounds in the next ring.

“Congratulations,” I said. The response was so automatic, it took me a moment to realize that no one else had spoken up.

“Yes,” Viv echoed quickly. “Well done!”

Ron swung his gaze back in our direction. “Did you win?”

Viv poked him in the shoulder, hard. “Of course he won, silly.”

Of all the names I might have been tempted to call Ron Pullman at that moment, silly was not one of them.

Ron smiled tightly. “Best of luck in the group.”

Austin turned toward me. “Did that sound sincere to you?”

“Yes,” I lied.

“You're a diplomat,” said Austin.

“My mother raised me well.” Although she'd never had the slightest inkling that my good manners might be put to the test at a dog show. Garden club, maybe. She wasn't a dog person either.

I looked past Ron and Viv and gazed around the building. “I was looking for Alicia Devane. I don't suppose any of you know where she might be?”

“She was here a little while ago,” said Austin.

“I saw her with Bill,” said Viv. Her voice seemed unnaturally loud. Maybe the two men were getting on her nerves. They were certainly getting on mine.

“That's right,” Austin agreed. “She was with Bill. They're probably over by the Sporting rings.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I'll check there.”

It was a relief to have an excuse to get away. Hanging around Ron and Austin was like watching two boxers battle for the heavyweight title. Each was continually trying to land the knockout punch. I didn't envy Viv the job of trying to keep the peace.

I checked around the sporting dog rings, but didn't see Alicia anywhere. Figuring I'd wasted enough time, I was on my way back to Aunt Peg's setup, when I passed by the food concession and found Alicia at the head of the line.

Alicia paid for her food, then turned and saw me. She had a milk shake in one hand and a cardboard basket of french fries in the other, but still managed a three-fingered wave. “Come and sit with me. Do you have a minute?”