“Wow.” I exhaled softly. “I had no idea.” Every time I’d checked in at the photo booth everything had appeared to be running smoothly.
“It was no big deal.” Bertie brushed off my concern. “We managed. And Claire was great.”
“I’m glad,” I said. “I really like her.”
“Even though . . . ?” Bertie let the thought dangle.
I was pretty sure I knew what my sister-in-law was getting at, but I couldn’t resist teasing her. “Even though what? That she was running around all day in that silly elf costume? I wasn’t going to say anything, but since you’ve asked . . . I’ll have you know that I gave Claire extra points for that.”
“Points,” Bertie muttered darkly. “If I’d had to wear that costume, you would have had to give me extra pay.”
“Oh?” I laughed. “Was I paying you?”
“Not nearly enough apparently. And don’t try to change the subject. You know that wasn’t what I meant. New Year’s Eve? The wedding? Your ex-husband? Does any of this ring a bell?”
“Bob,” I said, even though we both knew his name.
“Yes, Bob. I know you guys want everyone to think that it’s all copacetic between you now. But doesn’t it bother you even a little bit that your ex-husband is getting remarried?”
“No,” I replied honestly. “Why should it?”
“I don’t know.” I could picture Bertie’s frown. “It’s just what women do.”
“That’s a depressing thought,” I said. “Really?”
“Really. Facebook. Go there. You’ll be amazed by what you see.”
“No, thank you,” I replied. “I don’t need that kind of drama in my life. I’d rather be happily oblivious. As for Bob, he and I have been divorced for years. And I’m remarried. What kind of a moron would I be if I didn’t think Bob should be able to do the same?”
“Gawd,” Bertie said vehemently. “I hate it when you act like a grown-up.”
“Don’t worry,” I told her. “It doesn’t happen often.”
“Listen, I’m sorry not to be able to be more help about Kiltie,” Bertie said. “If I’d realized that something wonky was going to happen later, I’d have paid more attention.”
“We all would have,” I said with a sigh. “That’s the beauty of hindsight.”
Discomfited by my tone, Tar opened his eyes and gazed up at me. I wrapped an arm around the big Poodle’s shoulders and gave him a reassuring hug.
“Sondra McEvoy is convinced that a fellow exhibitor is behind Kiltie’s disappearance,” I told Bertie. “She said she saw Jo Drummer and Chip Michaels at the bazaar. Do you have any other names for me?”
“Sure, that’s easy,” Bertie replied. “LouLou Barrington came by with one of her Samoyeds. Rick Stanley brought a Cairn. Jane Brew and her partner had a pair of MinPins.”
“Thanks.” I jotted down the names. “That’ll definitely get me started. If you think of any more, let me know.”
“I’ll do that.” Bertie paused, then added, “I want you to know that I feel really bad about what happened. I’m sorry that Claire and I didn’t do a better job of staying on top of that guy. That we didn’t prevent him from sneaking out of the building with a dog—”
“Stop right there,” I said firmly. “None of this is your fault. So don’t even think of apologizing. The only reason you were even at the bazaar is because you were doing me a favor.”
“Yeah, but I still feel guilty—”
“Don’t,” I told her. “You and Claire did a great job all day. There’s nothing for you to feel bad about at all. Besides, I’m going to find Kiltie and bring him home. And then this whole mess will all be over and done with.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Bertie.
Despite my show of confidence, she didn’t sound entirely convinced.
Considering that it was Tuesday—the best day of the week for catching dog show people when they might have time to spare—it was disappointing that my next three phone calls turned up nothing useful. I left messages for Jane Brew and Rick Stanley, asking them both to please call me back. And I had a very brief conversation with Chip Michaels.
I didn’t know Chip personally, but the fact that he was acquainted with Sondra made me hope that he’d be willing to talk to me. Not only that, but throwing Aunt Peg’s name around usually pries open any dog-related door far enough for me to wiggle through. Not this time, however.
He’d only stopped in at the bazaar for a short period of time, Chip told me in an aggrieved tone of voice. Though he’d later learned of Kiltie’s disappearance, it had nothing whatsoever to do with him. He had seen nothing. He had heard nothing. End of discussion. Chip ensured that last part by hanging up the phone while I was still talking.
“That man needs better manners,” I muttered, seriously annoyed by the brush-off.
Faith, who was lying beside the couch, lifted her head and cocked an ear inquiringly. I looked down at her over Tar’s back.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “Your manners are great.”
I had more luck with my next call. Jo Drummer lived in Waterbury and bred and showed Border Terriers. Like Chip, she had only a very vague idea who I was. Unlike Chip, she was happy to talk.
Even though I got the impression that she was only hoping to pump me for information about Kiltie and Sondra—the duo currently starring in the hottest dog show gossip—I could hardly complain. After all, I was hoping to do the same to her.
“I’m in my car,” she said. “I’m taking a couple of puppies to handling class this afternoon in Trumbull. Why don’t you meet me there?”
Trumbull was closer than Waterbury. I could be there in half an hour. That made the decision easy.
“It’s a deal,” I told her.
Sam returned a few minutes later. I gave him a quick status update—kids, dogs, dinner, Kiltie, in that order—then hit the road. The address Jo gave me led me to a recreation center attached to a church on the outskirts of town. When I arrived, Jo was already in the parking lot unloading her minivan.
Now that I saw Jo, she looked familiar. We’d probably crossed paths at the shows dozens of times. I pulled the Volvo into an empty space and parked beside her.
Jo had the minivan’s side door open. As I got out of my car, she was leaning into her vehicle, unlatching the door to a wire crate. When she straightened up and turned around, Jo had a puppy in her arms and a smile on her face.
“You must be Melanie,” she said. “Here, have a puppy.”
“Excuse me?”
It wasn’t the greeting I’d been expecting. Even so, I found myself holding out my hands. The gesture was automatic. And fruitful. Next thing I knew, I did indeed have a puppy.
“Her name is Bella,” Jo told me as she went back into the van. “She’s a sweetheart. You’ll love her.”
The Border Terrier had wiry tan hair and a mischievous look on her face. Five to six months old, I guessed. Bella was already making herself comfortable in my arms. Her pink tongue came out to lick my hand. She was adorable. How could anybody not love her?
“This is going to work out great,” said Jo. She backed her body out of the minivan for the second time, once again holding a puppy to her chest. With ease born of practice, she lifted her knee and used it to slide the van door shut. “These two are litter mates and they both need socializing. Before you called, I was going to do half the class with each. But now that you’re here, I’ll handle Edward and you can take Bella.”
“Um,” I said uncertainly. “Okay.”
Jo was a stocky woman in her fifties with short, iron gray hair and a weathered face that was make-up free. Her gaze was direct and to the point. Apparently someone who’d never been unsure of anything in her life, Jo seemed baffled by my uncertainty.
“What?” she said. “You show dogs, right?”
I nodded. “Standard Poodles.”
“Good. That’s close enough.” She fished a flat show lead out of her pocket and looped it around Bella�
��s neck. “There. Now you’re good to go.”
Who could argue with confidence like that? Certainly not me.
Cradling the puppy in my arms, I followed Jo into the rec center. The main room was already crowded with dogs and people. Most were standing in small groups talking while they waited for class to start.
A big, rectangular-shaped, ring had been set up in the middle of the room. The organizers of the class were finishing rolling out the wide rubber mats that covered the floor to give the dogs traction. Somewhere in the building, Christmas music was playing. The carols, piped into the room through a loudspeaker, gave the setting a festive air.
As I shrugged out of my coat, Jo waved at some people she knew and went to settle with the cashier. By the time she returned, handlers were already beginning to file into the ring. Jo tossed her jacket onto a fold-up chair and gestured me toward the back of the line beside her.
She leaned toward me so I could hear what she was saying above the music. “We’re just here to play around and introduce them to the concept today. I want these guys to see other dogs, walk around on a leash, and get the idea that going to shows is fun. If she’s squirmy on the table, or she sits down when she should be standing up, don’t worry about it.” Jo nodded downward toward Bella. “Do you think you can make sure she has a good time?”
“I don’t see why not,” I said.
It sounded like my kind of assignment. Good behavior was hard, fun was easy. And Bella, standing on the floor beside me and gazing around avidly, already appeared to be having a ball. She’d touched noses with the dog behind me, investigated the curling edge of the mat, and was now mesmerized by a Saint Bernard on the other side of the ring.
The instructor started the class by having us all gait once around the ring. Bella handled the commotion and the mats with ease. In no time at all, Jo and I found ourselves right back where we’d started.
The bigger breeds had gone to the front of the line and there were more than a dozen dogs ahead of us. It would be at least ten minutes until it was our turn for an individual examination. In the meantime, we could play with the puppies and talk.
Jo sat down on the mat, crossed her legs, and pulled Edward into her lap. “So,” she said. “What’s up?”
I dropped to the mat beside her. “I know you’ve heard about what happened to Kiltie.”
The Westie’s call name was used liberally in his advertising as a nod to his breed’s Scottish roots. Which meant that everyone who was anyone in the dog community knew GCH Westglen Braveheart by his more informal moniker. And that included Jo. She didn’t miss a beat.
“Are you kidding?” she said. “Everybody’s heard. Who has their dog stolen by Santa Claus, for Pete’s sake? Trust me, a story like that made the rounds at warp speed.”
No surprise there.
“You were at the Howard Academy Christmas Bazaar, too,” I said.
“Sure I was. Along with several hundred other people. I took these guys”—Jo’s hand spread across our laps to indicate the two Border puppies—“to get their pictures taken with Santa. They’re like kids, you know? They grow up too fast. I wasn’t about to miss an opportunity like that.”
“Sondra thinks that another exhibitor, maybe one who was present that day, took her dog.”
Jo’s eyes narrowed. “She does, does she?”
Hands playing with the active puppy in my lap, I settled for a nod.
“Well, that’s an interesting theory. If you don’t mind my asking, what’s it to you?”
“I work at Howard Academy,” I said. “I was in charge of the bazaar.”
“No shit?” To my surprise, Jo started to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“Because . . .” Jo stopped to catch her breath. “Because I thought you were going to tell me that Sondra had offered you some fabulous sum of money to track down her missing dog. And now I find out that all you really do is work for a school?”
“Howard Academy is a very good school,” I said. I may have sounded a little miffed.
“Sure. Whatever. No offense meant.”
“The fact is,” I told her, “Kiltie was lost on my watch. So I promised Sondra that I would do whatever I could to find him.”
“Okay. I get that. I guess.” Jo tipped her head to one side. “So because I was at your bazaar, you think that makes me a suspect?”
“I think that makes it worth my time to hear what you have to say about the situation.”
Jo lifted Edward out of her lap and set him down on the mat. She stacked the puppy, let him hold the pose for a few seconds, then released him. “I don’t know that I have much to say at all.”
I followed suit with Bella, stacking the puppy briefly on the mat, then tried another tack with her owner. “You have a Specials dog that competes against Kiltie in the Groups. He must be a very good dog.”
“That’s Gusto.” Jo nodded. “He’s these puppies’ sire. And he’s a terrific Border Terrier. But even so . . .”
When I released the puppy from her stack, Bella skipped to the end of her leash and pounced on her brother. Gently I hauled her back to my side.
“Even so, what?” I prompted.
“Gusto shows against Kiltie in the group but it not like he’s ever going to be a real threat to him, competition-wise. I’d have to be stupid to even think that he might be.”
“Does Gusto ever beat Kiltie?” I asked curiously.
“He did once.” Jo allowed herself a small smile. “Kiltie was off his game. Gusto was third in the group and Kiltie was fourth. Sondra was madder than a wet hornet.”
I could picture that. From what I knew of her, Sondra was not the kind of person to take being beaten lightly.
“But if Kiltie is gone,” I said, “Gusto moves up, right? That’s got to be a good thing.”
“Sure. But it’s not nearly enough. The Terrier group is one of the toughest there is. Some might even call it cutthroat.”
I nodded. I knew that.
“Borders, even really good ones, are a hard sell in that kind of competition. Judges like the flashy breeds, the ones that fly around the ring and really stand out. Compared to the Wires and the Kerries, we’re just a little too plain for the big leagues.”
Now that she’d pointed that out, I knew she was right. Judges did tend to favor breeds that were showy and eye-catching. It was one of the reasons that Poodles did so well in the Groups and Best in Show.
“If my goal was to do well in the group,” said Jo, “it would be smarter for me to get another breed than to try and eliminate one of my competitors.”
Right again, unfortunately.
Growing bored with the inactivity, Bella nipped at my sleeve. I disentangled her small teeth and set the Border puppy back on the mat. Jo and I both stood up. The line was moving forward.
When we stopped again, she leaned in close and said, “The idea that someone like me would care that much about Kiltie, or his whereabouts, is laughable. But then Sondra has always had a highly inflated sense of her own worth. If someone really is out to get her, she only has herself to blame. Because if Sondra has a target on her back, she’s the one who put it there.”
Chapter 17
Cutthroat indeed, I thought. The Terrier group sounded like just the right place for Jo Drummer and her scrappy little Borders.
Despite the efforts she’d made to proclaim her innocence, Jo didn’t appear to be at all sympathetic to Sondra’s plight. I’ve never been able to resist poking against a sore spot. Now I decided to prod a bit more and see what kind of response I might be able to provoke.
“Kiltie is going out with Todd after the first of the year,” I said casually. “Had you heard about that?”
Jo’s reaction was immediate and gratifying. She reared back in surprise. “No! I had no idea. Are you sure about that?”
“Sondra told me so herself.”
“I heard that Todd was going to be debuting an important new dog next year, too,” Jo replied. “
But not Kiltie. It’s an Afghan Hound. One that’s coming from England.”
Normal people gossip about singers and movie stars. Exhibitors talk endlessly about the top dogs. Who has what dog. Who had beaten what dog. And where they were all going to show up next.
Still, this information came as a surprise. With two new “big dogs” arriving at Todd’s kennel at the same time—and both obviously vying for top dog status—even a string as extensive as Todd’s was going to feel a little crowded. Afghans were part of the Hound group, I thought. Westies were in the Terriers. That would help some.
“Two different groups,” I mused aloud.
“Yes,” said Jo. “But the whole point of playing at that level is to make it into the Best in Show ring. And then what? Todd may be a miracle worker, but even he can only handle one dog in the ring at a time.”
I couldn’t argue with that logic.
She turned away from me as the line moved up again and she nudged Edward back into position. As Bella and I followed along behind, I considered what Jo had told me. It would be interesting to hear what Aunt Peg had to say about the situation. She often understood nuances about the dog show world that went right over my head.
But in the meantime, I couldn’t help but wonder. Was Todd setting himself up for an inevitable conflict between two of his clients? Or was it Sondra who’d misunderstood the situation?
Then it was Jo’s turn to pick up Edward and place him on the table to be examined. The class instructor, playing judge, ran his hands swiftly over the puppy’s body. When he was finished, he gave the Border an encouraging pat. Jo gaited Edward out and back across the mats. They even managed a brief free bait at the end.
When they were finished, it was my turn with Bella. The puppy wiggled on the table. She leapt and bounded on the floor. It wasn’t a polished performance by any means. But the entire time she was in the spotlight, Bella’s enthusiasm never diminished. When we went to join Jo and Edward at the end of the line, I was pleased to see that she looked happy with both her puppies’ performances.
The Bark Before Christmas Page 16
