Hair of the Dog (23 page)

“Okay.” I made a mental note to make arrangements for Davey. “In the meantime—”

“I know.” Alicia smiled. “I'll be careful.”

“Seriously. Think about what's happened. I'm glad Beth's going to be here with you. Until the police figure out what's going on, you're better off not going anywhere alone.”

Her expression turned sober. “I have been thinking about it. And I know now that I was wrong to tell you that I didn't need to know who killed Barry. I must have been crazy to think I could just put it behind me and go on.”

Her tone was earnest, her expression imploring. I've seen Basset Hound puppies that were easier to resist. “You will help me, won't you?”

I didn't answer out loud, but I did nod. Then I got in the car and kicked myself all the way home.

The large number of people at Bill's funeral was testament to how popular a member of the dog show community he'd been. It also helped that the event took place midweek. Holding it on a weekend would have cut down on attendance dramatically.

I left Davey at Joey Brickman's house and drove to Patterson with Aunt Peg. Since neither of us had called ahead for directions, we got lost twice on the way to the church. Luckily, Aunt Peg drives so fast that we still managed to arrive in plenty of time. We sat in the back for the service, then joined the procession of cars to the cemetery.

Dressed in a black suit whose long jacket bulged a bit with her pregnancy, Alicia looked like she was holding up well. As the minister intoned a few more words, she stood at the grave site, flanked on either side by people I didn't recognize. Presumably they were members of Bill's family.

Looking around the rest of the assemblage, I saw plenty of familiar faces. Crawford and Terry were there, as were Viv and Ron Pullman. Austin Beamish was standing with a group of judges and exhibitors. Midas's handler, Tom Rossi, was there as well.

Beth Wycowski had come, and brought Ralphie Otterbach with her. He looked uncomfortable in a brown cotton suit and had already unfastened the top two buttons of his shirt. He shuffled his feet restlessly as the minister spoke.

Also nearby, Bertie Kennedy was composed and dry-eyed. I wasn't sure how well she'd known Bill Devane, but I knew she had to realize that this was a good place to be seen. She was standing amid a group of women that also included Christine Franken.

“Big turnout,” I said under my breath to Aunt Peg.

“Bill was very well liked. I'm glad to see he's being sent off in style.”

I looked around and sighed. When I'd started trying to figure out who'd killed Barry Turk, the field seemed wide open. The man had so many enemies that nearly everyone seemed eager to be rid of him. Bill Devane, on the other hand, had apparently been enormously popular. His murder did nothing but confuse me. The two deaths had to have been connected. But how?

When the service at the grave site was finished, we drove back to the house in Patterson, where a buffet lunch had been set out to feed the gathering. As soon as we arrived, I went to look for Alicia. I found her in the kitchen. She'd kicked off her heels and was walking around in stocking feet.

“Anything I can do to help?”

“No thanks. So many people have offered, I barely have to lift a finger.”

Despite her words, Alicia's cheeks were pale and sadness haunted her eyes. Lifting a finger looked to be about the most she might manage.

“You're sure you're okay?”

“Okay?” She laughed softly. “I'm not even close to okay.” She gazed slowly around the room. “Bill and I spent more time here than in any other room in the house. He loved to cook and I loved to eat. In some ways, we made a good pair.”

Alicia brushed a hand past her eyes. “Why don't you go out and mingle? Let me sit in the kitchen and have a good cry. That's what funerals are for, aren't they?”

The door swung open behind me and Christine Franken stuck her head in. “Need any help?”

“Everything's under control,” I said, exiting through the door and taking Christine with me. “Alicia just wants a few minutes to herself.”

Together we walked back into the crowded living room. Christine headed to a table along one wall where a bar had been set up, and I followed along behind.

“Wine?” she asked, going straight to a bottle of Chablis.

“Sure.”

She poured us each a glass and took a long swallow from hers. “What a shame this is,” she said. “Bill was such a decent guy. You don't see a lot of that in the dog show world.”

I sipped my wine more slowly. “If that's the way you feel, then why do you do it?”

“I like the dogs. I like the winning. I don't have to like the people.” Christine gazed past me, her eyes narrowing. As she lifted her glass to her lips once more, I turned to see who she'd been looking at. Austin was standing by the fireplace, talking to Crawford and Terry.

“Austin was the big client that Barry cost you, wasn't he?”

“Right-o.” Christine reached for the bottle and poured herself a refill. “I couldn't see it at the time, but he wasn't a great loss.”

“Maybe now that Barry's gone, you can start handling for other people again.”

“Like Austin?” Christine grinned mirthlessly. “I don't think so. Trust me, that ship has already sailed. Whatever I thought we had going ended the day he dumped me for Vivian DuCoyne.”

Aunt Peg had introduced me to scores of people at dog shows in the last year. I wondered if she'd been one of them. “I don't think I know her.”

“You probably do, just not under that name. She's Viv Pullman now. But back then, she and Ron weren't married yet.”

“And she was involved with Austin?”

“No. Viv and Ron were already engaged at the time, and she wasn't interested. That didn't stop Austin, though. His ego is so large, he figured he could win Viv away. The jerk. So he ended up with nobody, which is just what he deserved.”

Her voice had risen. Several heads turned in our direction.

Christine lifted a hand to fan her throat. “Is it hot in here, or is it me?”

Even with the windows open, the press of bodies in the room had raised the temperature, and Christine was suddenly looking very much like she could use some fresh air. “It's a little warm,” I agreed. “Why don't we go outside?”

“Good idea.”

The yard behind the house was large and shady. The grass was freshly mowed and the smell of clippings hung in the air. A wooden bench sat beside an empty bird feeder. Christine sank down onto it and closed her eyes.

“Ahh,” she said. “Much better.”

I left her there and went back inside to check on Alicia. Several women were standing in the kitchen, but she was not among them. Picking up a platter to deliver to the buffet table, I walked through to the living room and spotted Alicia chatting with Viv Pullman.

All right, so I'm nosy. If I hadn't had that platter in my hands, I'd have been over there like a shot. Unfortunately, just as I was putting the food down, Aunt Peg grabbed me.

“There you are, I've been looking all over. Have you seen this?” She held up a copy of
Dog Scene
magazine.

“No. Why?”

“It's next week's issue. Hot off the presses. It goes in the mail this afternoon.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I was keeping tabs on Viv and Alicia. “So?”

“There's an obituary in here for Bill Devane. Of course, it's very complimentary. And the picture they used is ten years old at least. I don't know who the editors think they're fooling. Melanie, would you please look at me when I'm talking to you?”

My gaze swung back around. “What?”

“Dear girl, what are you looking at?”

“Viv and Alicia,” I whispered. “Over there. What do you suppose they're talking about?”

“Maybe this.” Peg held up the magazine and shook it. “That's what I've been trying to show you.”

“Bill's obituary?”

“No, here. On the gossip page. There's an item alluding to Ron and Alicia's affair. It doesn't mention any names, but it's clear as day who they're referring to. Listen to the ending.
‘Revenge is a powerful motivator. And when it comes gift-wrapped in southern-fried charm, watch out.' ”

“Good Lord.” I snatched the paper from her hands. “Let me see that.”

“I thought you might be interested,” Peg said smugly as I skimmed through the column.

The piece was short but eye-catching. As Peg had said, the writer hadn't named names. Even so, the majority of the dog showing fraternity would have no trouble figuring out who he was talking about. And Viv came off looking like the woman scorned.

“None of this is true,” I said, outraged. “They've made it sound as though Alicia stole Ron away from Viv.”

“It doesn't have to be true. That's why it's running on the gossip page. Besides, Alicia did steal Ron away, at least for a little while.”

“And killing Bill was Viv's revenge? That's crazy. Viv's a smart woman. She would have to know she was much better off with Bill alive than dead. He would have taken care of Alicia. Now she has no one.”

“No one but the father of her baby,” said Peg.

As one, we turned to look. While we'd been reading the magazine, Viv had disappeared. Now Alicia was talking to Bertie.

“You said this was next week's issue,” I said. “Where did you get it?”

“Terry had it. He was the one who showed me the item. I don't know where it came from before that.”

The crowd in the room was beginning to thin. I didn't see Terry or Crawford among the guests that remained. Still holding the magazine, I hurried out the front door. A line of cars had been parked along the length of the driveway. Crawford and Terry were heading toward a gold Lexus near the road. I ran to catch up.

“Wait!”

Both men turned and paused.

“The item about Viv,” I said to Terry, breathing hard. “The one you showed Aunt Peg. Who planted it?”

Terry cocked his hip and braced a hand on it. “Now, how would I know that?”

I glanced over at Crawford. He smiled slightly. “You give me too much credit, Melanie. I don't know everything.”

“You could find out,” I said.

“Maybe.” Crawford shrugged and continued walking. “If I wanted to.”

“Terry?”

“Don't get me in trouble, hon.”

“Please?”

“Deliver me from whining women.” Terry took the magazine from me. “Thank God I'm not straight.”

“Please, Terry?”

“Oh, all right,” he whispered. “I'll see what I can do.”

 

I spent the next day waiting to hear from Terry. When he didn't call, I didn't dare get in touch with him. Already I was presuming on his goodwill. Applying more pressure certainly wasn't going to help my case any.

When the phone finally did ring the next evening, it was Aunt Peg. “I need a favor,” she said. “Are you coming to the Danbury dog show tomorrow?”

“Possibly,” I said, hedging. Sam was working. He had a rush project he had to finish, so Davey and I were free. Knowing Aunt Peg, however, I wanted to hear more before committing myself. “What's up?”

“Douglas is going to be there, it's his first dog show since mid-July. You know how distracted I get when I'm showing a dog. I was hoping you could keep an eye on him and make sure he enjoys himself.”

All things considered, that didn't sound like too hard an assignment. Besides, going to the show would give me a chance to talk to a few people.

“Do you know if Crawford will be showing Leo?”

“I imagine so, the dog's entered every weekend. Why?”

“Now that Bill's gone, I'm curious to know what Ron plans to do next. Maybe I'll find a chance to pull him aside and ask him.”

“Not tomorrow, you won't. He mentioned yesterday that he was going away over the weekend. Viv's staying home to hold down the fort, but I wouldn't expect to see her at the show either.”

Too bad, I thought. But I could still use the opportunity to try and pin down Terry.

“Here's an idea,” said Peg. “Why don't you bring Faith along so I can see how her hair is coming?”

Checking up on me, that's what she was doing. This was Aunt Peg's subtle way of making sure that I didn't slack off on Faith's coat care. I glanced down at my watch and considered the possibility of factoring bath and blow-drying time into the evening's activities. It would be a tight squeeze. Then again, I was the one who'd been feeling guilty every time Davey and I went off to a show and left the Standard Poodle behind. This idea might end up working out to suit all of us.

“All right,” I said. “We'll see you there.”

 

The Danbury dog show was held outdoors in a large, lovely field at the base of a small mountain. The rings were well laid out, and there was plenty of space set aside for parking, even for spectators like Davey and myself, who didn't arrive until mid-morning. Since I'd brought along my portable grooming table for Faith to sit on, I pulled over to the handlers' tent and unloaded. Standard Poodles were scheduled for noon, but most were already out on their tables being worked on.

“It's about time!” Peg said as we approached. “I was beginning to think you weren't coming.”

“Mom slept late,” Davey confided. “You can yell at her.”

In the eyes of my son the early riser, anything after six
A.M.
was considered late.

“Never mind. What matters is that you're here now. Go park the car then make yourself useful. Douglas said something about Scottish Deerhounds and went off wandering. Maybe you can find him.”

“Will do.” I hopped Faith up onto her table. Wagging her tail happily, she touched noses with Tory as I opened Davey's chair and placed his bag of toys in the seat. “Are you staying here or coming with me?”

“Faith and I are staying with Aunt Peg.” Davey was eyeing Peg's tack box hungrily. At least I'd managed to get oatmeal into him for breakfast.

I parked the Volvo, then headed over to the main tent with its double row of parallel rings. Scottish Deerhounds are one of the largest breeds of dogs. Though there weren't many entered, I could pick them out from across the field. Douglas was standing in the shade beneath the tent. Catalogue in hand, he was concentrating so intently on the proceedings in the ring that he didn't even notice my approach. Aunt Peg might make a dog fancier out of him yet.