Game of Dog Bones

by Laurien Berenson

  “Oh?” Aunt Peg swiveled my way.

  Her self-styled repose hadn’t lasted long. They never did.

  “With regard to Victor Durbin,” I said. “I think I have an idea.”

  “You might have started by telling me that,” she chided. “Rather than letting me stand here waxing maudlin like someone who’s never watched dear friends get married before.” Aunt Peg upended her flute and emptied it. “There. I’m ready now. Let’s hear it.”

  Again, a waiter appeared with a tray. He offered her another glass of champagne. She waved him away impatiently. So much for enjoying the moment. The Aunt Peg I knew and loved was back.

  “You know how sometimes you’re thinking about something, but you don’t know the answer? Then you go to bed, and your brain keeps working on it overnight while you’re asleep, and when you wake up, your subconscious mind has sorted it out for you?”

  “No. Does that really happen to you?” Aunt Peg appeared bemused by the idea. “I can’t imagine solving problems in my sleep. I prefer to be fully alert and tackle things head on.”

  Of course she did.

  “Okay,” I said. “Moving on. Yesterday when we were talking to Olivia, she mentioned Victor’s bruised finger, which reminded me of your encounter with him outside the Garden last Monday night.”

  Aunt Peg nodded. “Odious man,” she muttered under her breath.

  “Then she told us about the THC that had been found in Victor’s blood during the autopsy. And that brought to mind something else. When Victor accosted you that night, something fell out of his pocket.”

  She thought back. “You mentioned that at the time. I didn’t see a thing myself. What was it?”

  “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “It was dark, and he moved very quickly to pick it up and put it away. It appeared to be some sort of little baggie. I thought it might have had white powder inside.”

  “Powder?” Aunt Peg frowned. “Are you implying it was a drug of some sort?”

  “It might have been. As you recall, we were in a hurry to get inside. So I didn’t stop and think about it at the time. But now, looking back, I’m wondering if that’s what it was.”

  “I’m not terribly conversant with illicit drugs,” Aunt Peg said. “What would a packet of white powder be, cocaine?”

  “I was thinking more of something like a roofie.”

  Aunt Peg was shocked. “Isn’t that the substance that’s known as the date rape drug?”

  “Exactly.”

  She wasn’t as uninformed as she thought. Aunt Peg was, however, beginning to look ill. I was glad she hadn’t accepted that second glass of champagne.

  “Think about it,” I said. “Remember how insistent Victor was that you accompany him to a bar for a quick drink?”

  “A celebratory quickie, he called it.” Aunt Peg grimaced. “Do you think he was planning to put something in my drink?”

  “I think it’s possible.”

  “I just thought Victor was trying to delay me,” she said. “I assumed he wanted to make me late for my judging assignment. But if your guess is correct, he had something else in mind entirely. He intended to ensure that I never showed up at all.”

  Chapter 23

  Aunt Peg was outraged by the thought. “That man was nothing but a rat bastard.”

  Her tone was enough to make several heads turn in our direction. I hoped the other guests hadn’t been able to hear what she’d said.

  “You won’t get any argument from me,” I said.

  “Victor must have realized that the only way he could get the better of me was to make sure I was incapacitated,” she growled. “He intended to ruin the most important night of my career.”

  “It could have been worse than that,” I told her.

  “Worse? What could be worse . . . ?” Her voice slowly faded away. “Oh.”

  “Oh, indeed,” I replied. “It makes me reconsider what Mattie told me. What she described was bad enough. But what if he did more than she was willing to let on?”

  Aunt Peg nodded. “You’re quite right to worry about that. It’s beginning to look as though I had a narrow escape.”

  Another waiter was circling the library. My champagne flute was nearly empty. I traded it for a full one. Aunt Peg helped herself too.

  The champagne was having a mellowing effect on me, and probably Aunt Peg too. Considering where we were and what we were discussing, that was a good thing.

  “And then there’s Louise Bixby,” I said, when the waiter had moved away once more.

  “What about her?”

  “I told you she was behaving oddly at the Empire specialty. Her judging was all over the place. And then she and Victor had that argument.”

  Aunt Peg nodded. “We still don’t know what that was about.”

  “Now I’m wondering if Victor had something to do with all of Louise’s issues that day,” I said. “Maybe he had attempted to slip her something too. Or maybe he succeeded.”

  Aunt Peg’s brow rose. “Not another roofie?”

  “That’s just one possibility. Don’t forget that when Victor died, he’d recently been exposed to marijuana.”

  Aunt Peg had taken a sip of her champagne. Now she nearly choked on it. “Don’t tell me you think Louise might have been stoned when she was judging Poodles?”

  I shrugged. “All I know is that something strange was going on. When I asked Louise about her argument with Victor, she said that her lunch must have disagreed with her because she didn’t feel well all afternoon.”

  “That could explain why she wasn’t acting like herself.” Aunt Peg still wasn’t convinced by my version of events. “If Victor did drug Louise, what could he have been hoping to accomplish? That was the first Empire Poodle Club specialty. It was Victor’s opportunity to showcase the kind of event his club was capable of hosting. It was in his best interests for everything to go perfectly.”

  “Except . . .” I said.

  Aunt Peg gave me a beady-eyed glare. “Now what?”

  “Terry heard that Victor was stepping down as president of the club.”

  “I don’t believe it,” she said firmly. “Why would he do that?”

  “Possibly because of irregularities in the EPC’s membership roster.”

  “Oh pish. No club’s records are perfect. You’ll have to come up with a better reason than that.”

  I thought it was a perfectly good reason. But whatever.

  “Keep thinking.” Aunt Peg reached over and patted my arm. “I’m sure you’ll come up with something. In the meantime, I’m going to circulate.”

  Having been ditched by Aunt Peg, I went to check on the boys. I found them on the dais in the living room along with a handful of other kids. The group was engaged in a lively game of Twister. Kev was happy, and Davey looked like he had everything under control.

  I was on my way back to the dining room to look for Sam when I saw Crawford at the other end of the center hall. Seeing me, he disengaged himself from the couple he’d been speaking with. For a moment I thought he meant to duck out in the other direction. Sadly, over the last half year our relationship had deteriorated that much.

  But to my surprise, Crawford headed my way. I stopped and waited for him. He was smiling as he approached. I tried not to read too much into that. Both he and Terry had been smiling all evening.

  “Congratulations,” I said. Crawford didn’t protest when I drew him into my arms for a hug. “That was a beautiful ceremony. I couldn’t be happier for both of you.”

  “Thanks.” His gray eyes twinkled. “It’s been a long time coming. Who’d have thought that at my advanced age I’d still be marriage material?”

  Crawford was in his sixties, but showing dogs had kept him fit. He still had the physique and the skills of a younger man.

  “Everyone,” I told him. “Terry is lucky to have you.”

  “I was lucky to have found him. Terry planned this entire event. All by himself. He said he wanted to surprise me. And boy, did he
. I wasn’t expecting something quite so . . . dignified.”

  “I’m sure he wanted you to have a ceremony you’d be proud of,” I said. “Even though I was hoping to see a few dancing Poodles myself.”

  “Hunh.” Crawford chuckled. “Dancing Poodles. Try to show a little restraint, Melanie.”

  He glanced at someone over my shoulder. I knew other guests were waiting to speak to him. He and Terry were the men of the hour. Everyone wanted to offer their congratulations.

  It wasn’t fair of me to monopolize Crawford’s time. But there was one more thing I still needed to say. “About what happened last summer—” I began.

  Crawford lifted a finger and placed it on my lips to stop me from talking. He hadn’t accepted my apologies before. This time I was determined to make him listen.

  I reached up and folded his hand inside both of mine. Then I lowered our joined hands and pressed them against my chest. “Please, Crawford. Let me tell you how sorry I am. I know what I did was wrong. You were right to be angry. But I truly hope you’ll be able to forgive me.”

  “That was a very pretty apology.” Unexpectedly Crawford smiled. “But you should have let me stop you when I tried.”

  My heart dropped. “Does that mean you still won’t forgive me?”

  “No, it means it wasn’t necessary.” Crawford took his hand back from mine. He extended his left arm and pushed back the sleeve of his dinner jacket. A new gold watch circled his wrist.

  “Terry gave me that earlier today,” he said. “It was his wedding present to me.”

  “It’s gorgeous,” I told him.

  “Do you know what he wanted from me on this special day?”

  I shook my head.

  “Just one thing. Terry told me he needed me to forgive you. He wanted things to go back the way they were. He wanted you and me to be friends again.”

  “Oh.” I swallowed heavily. “Oh my.” My breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t seem to be able to say anything else.

  This time it was Crawford who reached over to take my hands in his. “Terry had a point. It was time to let bygones be bygones. Besides, it’s hard to stay mad when it was your meddling that led to this day. I’m standing here tonight, a newly married man—and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”

  I just looked at him. I still couldn’t manage to say a word.

  Crawford leaned closer. He whispered in my ear, “And you and I are good. Is that okay?”

  I nodded. Then I brushed away a tear.

  He turned me around and pointed me toward the bar. “Go get yourself a drink, Melanie. You look like you could use one.”

  When I tried to look back at him, Crawford was already gone, quickly absorbed into a new group of people. Instead, I saw Davey and Kevin heading my way.

  Davey took one look at me and frowned. “Geez, are you crying again? What’s the matter now?”

  “Nothing.” I quickly scrubbed my hand across my face. “I’m just happy, that’s all.”

  “Happy.” Davey snorted. “I’d never have guessed.”

  “I’m happy,” Kevin announced. “Terry told me it’s almost time for cake.”

  The wedding cake was two tall tiers of devil’s food covered with buttercream frosting and decorated with a cascade of edible flowers. Crawford and Terry held the knife together when they cut the first piece. Each fed the other a small bite. Then they handed out the first plates to the children who’d gathered around them.

  Davey nabbed two plates, one for him and one for his brother. They went and sat down in the nook beneath the bay window. Sam and I got cake for ourselves and hovered nearby. The library was filled with candles too. Like in the other rooms, the romantic lighting made the space seem to glow.

  “I talked to Crawford,” I told Sam. It wasn’t often that I saw my husband dressed up. He looked very handsome in his suit and tie. I reached up and wiped a small bit of creamy frosting off his lower lip.

  “Everyone has talked to Crawford,” Sam said. “It’s his wedding.”

  “No, I mean . . . really talked. And we’re good.”

  “It’s about time.”

  “What’s about time?” asked Bertie. She and Frank came over to join us.

  “Crawford and I are friends again,” I said. Just the thought made me smile.

  Frank looked confused. “You’re here at the guy’s wedding. Why wouldn’t you be friends with him? What did you do now?”

  I rounded on my brother. “Why does everybody always assume everything is my fault?”

  “Well . . .” said Sam.

  Okay, in this case, maybe. But not always.

  Bertie slipped an arm around her husband’s shoulder. “I’ll fill you in later,” she promised.

  We chatted for a few minutes; then I spotted Aunt Peg in the dining room. She was standing with Louise Bixby. I excused myself and went to join them.

  “Good evening, Melanie,” Louise said. “Peg and I were just talking about what a lovely occasion this is.”

  “Terry did a wonderful job,” I agreed.

  “We were also talking about Victor’s specialty,” Aunt Peg said. “And Louise’s judging.”

  “Perhaps it wasn’t my finest hour,” the other woman admitted. “Although thankfully I did manage to find Crawford’s Mini special, who went on to place in the group at Westminster under Peg.”

  Sure, for the variety. It didn’t seem advisable to mention that she’d put the Toy Poodle over him for Best of Breed.

  “Topper’s a very nice dog,” Aunt Peg agreed smoothly. “Melanie mentioned earlier that you hadn’t been feeling well that day. I was sorry to hear that. What a shame not to be on top of your game at such an important event.”

  “These things happen.” Louise shrugged. The small movement made her sway slightly on her feet. She was holding a highball glass. It was half full with what looked like whiskey. It probably wasn’t her first drink of the night. “There will be other shows.”

  Her cavalier attitude made me wince. Especially since it came from a judge. What a slap in the face to the exhibitors who’d gone to a great deal of effort to show under her, and who should have won, but had instead gone home empty-handed.

  “I heard you and Victor had a rather prickly relationship,” Aunt Peg mentioned casually.

  “Prickly?” Louise retorted. “That’s a nice way of putting it. I hated the man’s guts.”

  “Really?” To her credit, Aunt Peg managed to sound surprised. “What did he ever do to you?”

  “To me?” Louise blinked. Abruptly she seemed to catch herself. When she spoke again, she chose her words with more care. “Nothing. I was just speaking generally. You knew Victor, Peg. He was a horrid man. Everyone thought so. Even the members of his own Poodle club didn’t like him.”

  Louise turned her whole body to look at me. “I told you that a week ago.”

  “Yes, you did,” I said. “You sent me to talk to Larry Bowling.”

  “And did you take my advice?”

  “I did.”

  “There you go,” Louise said with satisfaction. “I’m sure he told you the same thing.” She peered at me over the top of her glass when I didn’t immediately reply. “He did, didn’t he?”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “Larry also thought Victor was a horrid man.”

  Aunt Peg was now behind Louise. She rolled her eyes at me. I tried not to laugh.

  “Last week at the specialty, did Victor give you anything to eat or drink while you were judging?” I asked Louise. “Or maybe before?”

  “No.” She fortified herself with another sip of whiskey. “Why would he have done that?”

  So much for that theory. I tried another tack.

  “Did anyone at the show bring you something to eat or drink?”

  Louise laughed lightly. “Are you worried that Victor’s show committee didn’t take good care of me?”

  “Yes,” I fibbed. “That’s it exactly.”

  “Never fear. Hannah was on top of her duties all day.�
��

  “Oh?” Aunt Peg rejoined the conversation. “She was your steward, wasn’t she?”

  “Yes, that’s right. When I arrived she had a cup of hot coffee and a brownie waiting for me on my table.”

  Aunt Peg and I exchanged a look.

  “How nice of her,” I said.

  Louise nodded. “The brownie was delicious. Hannah told me it was homemade. I offered to share but she said she’d already eaten one she’d brought for herself.”

  Hannah? I thought. I was probably frowning. I knew she’d had her own reasons for being mad at Victor. But it didn’t make sense that she would try to get even with him by sabotaging his show. After all, it was her show too. She was also an officer of the Empire Poodle Club.

  I closed my eyes briefly. This conversation was making my head hurt. Or maybe I’d had too much champagne.

  “Louise, dear,” Aunt Peg said brightly. “Tell us about the note. What did it say?”

  “Note?” The woman stared at her muzzily. “What note?”

  “The one you sent to Victor,” I told her. “The one that brought him running to your ring.”

  Louise’s face was a mask of confusion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “My mistake,” I said easily. “Perhaps Hannah was the one who did that.”

  “Hannah? Sent Victor a note?” Louise was still bewildered. She took another gulp of whiskey. I doubted that would help her figure things out. “Why would she do that?”

  “We were hoping you could tell us,” Aunt Peg said.

  “I’m sure I don’t have any idea. Victor and Hannah?” Louise shook her head. Just looking at her made me dizzy. “Those two didn’t get along at all. Even at their own show, they were barely civil to each other all day. I can’t imagine Hannah wanting Victor anywhere near the ring. You must be mistaken.”

  And there we were. Smack up against another dead end.

  I glanced around the room and saw that Sam was holding Kevin now. Kev’s arms were around Sam’s neck and his head was resting on Sam’s shoulder. My younger son had fallen asleep. It was time for us to go. I left Aunt Peg with Louise, checked in with Sam, then went to find Terry.