Game of Dog Bones

by Laurien Berenson

  Bertie laughed too. “As long as I stay away, I have the whole afternoon off. That never happens so I’m taking advantage of it. Let’s do something fun.”

  “Great idea. I’ll be there in five. And for Pete’s sake, don’t wait in the driveway. Why hasn’t Sam let you in?”

  “Nobody’s home,” Bertie told me. “Just a bunch of barking Poodles trying to sound like fierce watchdogs. Faith looked through the window and saw it was me. If she could turn a knob, she’d have opened the door, but no such luck.”

  By the time she finished explaining that, I was almost there. A black Jeep Wrangler was parked near the garage. Bertie hopped out as I approached. On a rare day off, she was wearing jeans, tall Dubarry boots, and a woolen peacoat. Her knotted cap had a bright red pom-pon on the top. Bertie and I exchanged hugs and she followed me inside.

  As soon as we walked through the door, Bertie was mobbed by the canine welcoming committee. She squatted down to greet each dog by name. Eve and Augie nudged their way to the front of the pack, only to be pushed aside by Tar, whose exuberant greeting nearly knocked Bertie over. Bud took advantage of that to wriggle his plump body between Bertie’s legs.

  I stepped around the commotion and hung up my jacket. “Sure, forget all about me just because we have a visitor,” I grumbled to the Poodle pack. None of them took any notice of me. They were still busy assuring Bertie that she was the best guest ever.

  “What can I say? Dogs love me.” Bertie rose to her feet. She pulled off her coat and hat and threw them on a nearby chair.

  The canine crew continued to crowd around as she led the way to the kitchen. I stopped to read a note Sam had left me on the hall table. It said that he and Kevin were out running errands. I hoped that meant they were bringing home something good for dinner.

  Bertie ducked into the pantry, then passed out peanut butter biscuits. I refilled the dogs’ water bowl, then got two bottles of green tea out of the refrigerator. When I opened the back door, all the dogs went racing outside except for Faith, who opted to remain with us. She wasn’t young anymore and it was cold out there.

  As I sat down at the kitchen table, Bertie emerged from the pantry a second time. Now she had a bag of Oreos. She was squinting at the wrapper, looking for a freshness date. “These were hidden way in the back. Are they old or new?”

  “If they’re here, they’re new,” I said. “Oreos never have a chance to go stale in this house.” Bertie tossed the package on the table between us and I nabbed an Oreo for myself. “Sam probably hid them from Kevin. That child would live on cookies if we let him.”

  “He must have inherited Aunt Peg’s sweet tooth.” She pulled out a cookie, twisted it apart, and licked off the cream filling. “So what have you been up to today? And what are we going to do for entertainment next?”

  “About that . . .” I said.

  Bertie looked up. “Uh-oh.”

  “What?”

  “Why does that sound ominous?”

  “It doesn’t.”

  “Oh, please. How many years have I known you? I recognize that tone of voice.” Abruptly her eyes narrowed. “You’re going to talk about Victor Durbin, aren’t you?”

  “You asked what I’d been up to,” I pointed out. “As it happens, I was just in New Canaan talking to Detective Hronis about the investigation.”

  “What investigation? Not his.” Bertie was well aware of the circumstances surrounding Victor’s death. And where it had taken place.

  “No, actually mine.”

  She sighed. Then she reached for another cookie. “So?”

  “He didn’t believe what I told him. I mean, he thought it was an interesting story, but he didn’t see why it should have anything to do with him.”

  “I think I agree,” said Bertie. “Why should it?”

  “Because the woman whom I’m pretty sure killed Victor, lives in New Canaan.”

  Her hand stilled in the air. “Woman?”

  “Hannah Bly. Remember her?”

  She frowned. “No, but the name sounds familiar.”

  “Hannah was the steward at the Empire specialty last week.”

  “Oh, that’s right. She was the one trying to keep Louise Bixby from looking like an idiot.”

  “Actually, I’m pretty sure you have that backward,” I said. “I believe that Hannah was the cause of Louise’s crazy behavior.”

  “Really?” Now Bertie sounded curious. She fished two more cookies out of the bag. “Tell me about it.”

  By the time I got to the end of the story, Bertie was totally absorbed in what I had to say. We’d also managed to finish most of the Oreos between us. Hopefully Sam and Kevin were bringing home a new supply.

  When I finished speaking, I got up and let the dogs inside. Tar’s plush black coat was covered with snow. He must have been rolling in the stuff. Before I could grab a towel to dry him off, the big Poodle bounded into the middle of the room and shook vigorously. Droplets of melting snow went flying everywhere.

  Seated nearby, Bertie shrieked and jumped to her feet. I didn’t even try not to laugh.

  “You’re right,” I said. “Dogs do like you. That’s why Tar wanted to be right next to you when he shook.”

  Bertie snatched the towel I’d retrieved from the laundry room and used it to dry her hair. “Everyone thinks you’re so meek and unassuming, but I know the truth. You have a mean streak.”

  “Me, meek and unassuming?” I gulped. That wasn’t at all how I saw myself.

  She slanted me a look. “You let Peg walk all over you.”

  “Not all the time.”

  “You’re better about standing up for yourself than you used to be,” Bertie allowed. “But still. You need to learn to fight back.”

  I opened my mouth to defend myself, then shut it again without saying a word. Instead I sat back down at the table.

  Bertie tossed the damp towel on top of the washing machine. Bud followed her into the laundry room and took a look around. He was ever hopeful he might find food in unexpected places. Nothing in the small room must have smelled promising because I saw him eye the dangling end of the towel. In another minute, he’d have it on the floor.

  Or maybe I was just fixating on that because I didn’t want to think about what Bertie was saying.

  She returned to the table, pulled out her chair and took a seat too. “Peg uses you,” she said. “Shamelessly.”

  I shook my head. “Aunt Peg and I work on things together.” Even as the words came out of my mouth, I knew they weren’t entirely true.

  “That’s not how it looks to the rest of us,” Bertie replied. “I’ve always wondered if it weren’t for Peg being so nosy—and then prodding you to find out what she wants to know—whether you’d even get involved in solving mysteries at all.”

  “I would,” I replied quickly. “Of course I would.”

  Bertie didn’t look convinced. She peered at me across the space between us. “All I’m saying is that Peg needs to learn to respect you. You know you’re allowed to say no to her, right?”

  “Since when?” I laughed.

  Bertie didn’t join me. She didn’t think it was funny.

  Come to think of it, maybe I didn’t either.

  “Basically, you’re telling me to grow up,” I said.

  “Or to grow a pair. At least where Peg is concerned.” Bertie picked up the Oreo wrapper and shook it to see if it was empty. A lone rattle sounded from within. She fished out the last cookie. “I’ll split this with you.”

  “Is this the point where I’m supposed to get really firm and demand that you give me the last Oreo?”

  Okay, that did get a laugh.

  It did not, however, get me a whole cookie. Bertie still twisted the Oreo into two pieces. She paused and looked at the two halves. One had cream filling on it, the other didn’t.

  I lifted a brow and waited for her to choose. After a moment, she handed me the cookie with cream.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “
I figured it was only fair since they were your cookies to begin with.” Bertie paused, then asked, “Are you mad about what I said?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I told her the truth. “No.”

  Bertie nodded. She’d expected that. But she still wasn’t about to apologize. Instead she said, “Let me make it up to you.”

  “How?”

  “This is my afternoon off, but you get to choose what we do next. Anything you want, I’m in.”

  “Okay.” I grinned. Bertie might end up regretting that impulsive offer. “I want to go talk to Hannah Bly.”

  Her face fell. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope.”

  “Why would you want to do that? And before you answer, let’s both bear in mind that you think the woman might be a murderer.”

  “Which is precisely the point.”

  Bertie still looked reluctant. So much for anything I wanted.

  “This confronting a killer thing is your gig,” she said. “Not mine.”

  “Who said anything about confronting her? I just want to talk.”

  “Really?” she asked skeptically. “And say what?”

  “I want to tell Hannah about the people I’ve spoken to, and the conclusions I’ve drawn based on what they said. Then I’ll let her know that I’ve spoken to the police, and I’ll encourage her to turn herself in.”

  “Like that’s going to happen,” Bertie scoffed.

  “It could.”

  “What if she laughs at you instead?”

  I shrugged. “Then at least I’ll know I tried.”

  “Fat lot of comfort that will be when she pulls out a knife and tries to stab you.”

  “Hannah won’t have a knife,” I told her. “She’ll be out in the middle of the woods. Hannah and her dog, Izzy, hike a couple of miles in Waveny Park every afternoon. Faith and I went with her one day last week. She invited me to join her anytime.”

  “And you want me to come too,” Bertie said.

  “You offered,” I pointed out.

  “Apparently that was a dumb idea.”

  “Whether or not you come with me, I’m still going,” I said.

  “That’s an even dumber idea. It seems to me that we both need to stay out of the Waveny woods.”

  “Didn’t you just tell me that I need to stop letting people boss me around?”

  Bertie scowled. “I was talking about Aunt Peg, not me. Besides, I’m not telling you what to do, I’m trying to make you see sense. Think about it. You’ve told the police everything you know. The sensible thing now is to sit back and wait for them to make their move.”

  “The New Canaan police have no moves,” I told her. “Detective Hronis said as much when I was there. Besides, once I’ve explained things to Hannah, she’ll realize that I’m not a threat to her. The police didn’t believe me. They’re not following up on what I told them. So unless I can convince her to confess, everything I’ve done turned out to be useless.”

  Bertie reached across the table and took my hand. Her fingers squeezed mine. “You’re not useless.”

  “Come with me.” I could see she was wavering. “You can be my bodyguard.”

  She withdrew her hand and sat up straight. “I thought we were going to do something fun.”

  “You love the outdoors. A hike in the woods will be great fun.”

  Bertie sighed. She pushed back her chair and stood up. “Here goes nothing.”

  “I hope not,” I said.

  Chapter 27

  I sent Hannah a text asking if she wanted a walking buddy and got back an immediate reply.

  “Great idea,” she wrote. “You caught me just in time. Izzy and I are on our way to Waveny now. See you there in ten minutes.”

  “We need to hurry.” I showed Bertie the text. As she read it, I rinsed out the green tea bottles and tossed them in the recycling bin.

  She looked up from the screen. “We’re really doing this?”

  “Yup.” I went to the closet and exchanged my shoes for boots. Then I wound a scarf around my neck and grabbed a warm parka. “You’ll like Hannah. She’s a nice person.”

  “Sure.” Bertie muttered. “Until you accuse her of killing Victor.”

  The dogs had followed us out to the hallway. They danced around our legs with excitement. They were hoping we were all going for a walk.

  Reaching for a pair of gloves, I paused. “What if I’m wrong about Hannah?”

  Bertie was zipping up her coat. She stopped too. “In that case, we can abort this whole mission.”

  “No, we have to go. At the very least, I need to tell her what I know and give her a chance to explain herself.”

  The Poodles were still crowded around us, waiting to see what would happen next. “Pick a dog,” I said to Bertie.

  “What?” She looked at me, surprised.

  “Pick a Poodle. Hannah will have Izzy with her, and the Waveny trails are great for dog walking. We’ll take a couple along with us.”

  I looked at Faith. She swished her tail back and forth. I didn’t need to ask the question. Faith has always been able to read my mind. “You know how cold it is out there,” I told her.

  Faith woofed in reply. Coming anyway!

  “Okay,” I said to Bertie. “Faith is with me. Who do you want?”

  She glanced downward at the Poodle pack. “Who’s the biggest one?”

  That was easy. “Tar.”

  “Who’s the scariest one?”

  Seriously, was that a real question? Gazing around I saw only grinning canines and wagging pom-ponned tails.

  “Umm . . . none of them?”

  Bertie grabbed a leash from the hook on the closet door. “Tar it is, then. At least he looks like he could knock someone down if he had to.”

  “Nobody’s going to be knocking anybody down,” I said.

  Least of all Tar, I thought. That big Poodle loved everybody.

  “We’re just going to talk to Hannah.”

  “You never know,” Bertie told me darkly.

  We quickly loaded the two Poodles into the back of the Volvo and got under way. Taking the back roads between Stamford and New Canaan, we made it to Waveny Park in twelve minutes. As I drove up the rear driveway past the early nineteenth century Tudor mansion that was the park’s centerpiece, Bertie looked around avidly.

  “Wow,” she said. “This place is gorgeous.”

  I glanced over at her. “You’ve never been here before?”

  She shook her head.

  “They do the best Fourth of July fireworks in the area.”

  “Not better than Calf Pasture Beach.” Bertie was still gazing around. The wide fields on either side of us were blanketed with crusty snow. Trees flanked the long driveway. Their naked branches twisted in the air above us. “I’m surprised it’s so empty, though. Where are the people?”

  “Home for the winter,” I told her. “In two months this place will be crazy busy again. Which also means that in two months we won’t be able to walk the dogs off-leash. Enjoy it while you can.”

  Hannah and Izzy were waiting for us in the small parking lot near the carriage house. When I performed the introductions, Bertie didn’t step forward. Instead, she remained standing beside the Volvo. Her wariness was palpable.

  Hannah, however, nodded and smiled as soon as I said Bertie’s name. “Sure, I know who you are. I’ve watched you handle dogs in the ring. You do a great job.”

  “Thank you.” Bertie smiled in spite of herself. I saw her shoulders relax a bit. The three Poodles were circling around us, getting acquainted. “Izzy’s beautiful. Is she a champion?”

  “A third generation homebred,” Hannah replied proudly. “Add partly owner-handled to her title. She’s a dog who loves to stay active. I’m thinking about doing agility with her next.” She gestured toward the open trail. “Everyone ready to move out?”

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  The three big Poodles, two black and one white, dashed o
n ahead of us down the path. Faith and Izzy already knew what to expect. But the wide trail that led through the woods was a revelation for Tar. He raced back and forth, bounding through the snow as he tried to see everything at once. Faith and Izzy followed at a more sedate speed.

  As she’d done the previous week, Hannah set a strong pace. Bertie and I both kept up easily, but I was pretty sure I’d be tired later. We’d gone about fifty feet down the trail—far enough to be surrounded by the densely packed trees—when Hannah turned to face me.

  “So, you’re back,” she said. “What’s that about?”

  “Maybe I enjoy the exercise,” I replied brightly.

  Hannah wasn’t fooled for a second. “Or maybe you kept asking questions after we spoke last week. Everybody knows that about you, Melanie. You never know when to leave well enough alone.”

  Okay. She meant for our conversation to get straight to the point. So I followed Hannah’s lead. “That’s the problem. Things weren’t well enough. A man has been killed.”

  “You mean Victor?”

  I certainly hoped there hadn’t been another death. “Yes, Victor.”

  Hannah shrugged. “No great loss. I’m sure I’m not the only person who told you that.”

  “He had a lot of enemies,” I agreed. “Many of them were women.”

  “You don’t say,” Hannah muttered.

  “Your problems with him went way beyond his falsifying club records, didn’t they?”

  Abruptly she stopped. “Who told you that?”

  “No one. I figured it out for myself.”

  “Oh.” Hannah put her head down and started walking again. “Well, you’re wrong.”

  Bertie had remained silent until now. She’d been watching the dogs play in the snow and following half a step behind us. Now she caught up and said to Hannah, “Do you know a guy named Kenny Boyle?”

  The dog show community wasn’t huge. After a while, almost everyone began to look familiar. And everybody recognized the big name handlers—no matter what breed they showed.

  Hannah considered only briefly before nodding. “Tall, good looking guy, right? Professional handler, mostly working breeds?”

  “Yeah, that’s him,” Bertie said.

  I turned and stared at her. I never heard her mention Kenny’s name. I was surprised to hear her do it now. She didn’t meet my gaze.