Once Bitten (A Melanie Travis Mystery)

by Berenson, Laurien

  “So you and Sara competed against each other.”

  “Yes, for several years. We were the same age, and we tended to enter the same shows in the area. Though Sara would never admit it, we were pretty well matched in talent, too.”

  Debra pursed her lips, thinking back. “Sara always thought she was something special because her mother was Delilah Waring with Scotchglen Shelties, and I was just some high-school kid with an okay Afghan Hound and a mother who didn’t mind driving her around to dog shows.”

  Maris had been right, I thought. Though Debra had to be at least a decade older than eighteen, it didn’t sound as though any of her bitterness had faded.

  “I heard that Sara may have poisoned your dog.”

  “May have?” Her eyes flashed. “There was no question about it. Something happened to him and I know she was responsible. It was the Monday of Westminster, the day of the preliminaries for junior show. They hold them in the late afternoon, but we’d been there since morning. Kadu was on his bench in a big wire crate. He was fine when we arrived. My mother and I got him settled, then went out to the rings to watch the show.

  “A couple hours later, it was Sara who came and told me that I’d better go check on my dog. She said he didn’t look very good. Of course, my mother and I went straight back to see. Kadu was in terrible shape. He had uncontrollable diarrhea. We got a vet right away but there was nothing he could do.”

  “Did the dog die?” I asked, shocked.

  “No,” Debra snapped. “Kadu didn’t die. But I couldn’t show him, could I? I missed the preliminary judging which meant I had no shot at the finals the next night. I’m telling you, Sara got to Kadu. She wanted me out of her way and she accomplished that by taking out my dog.”

  “Did Sara win?”

  Debra’s shrug was unconvincingly elaborate. “I don’t remember.”

  Like hell she didn’t.

  “That happened quite a while ago.”

  “So?”

  “I’m sure there have been plenty of successes in your life since.”

  “Of course. And I know what you’re thinking. That maybe I should have put this behind me by now. Trust me, I have. The only reason I tell that story is to show people what kind of person Sara is. Sometimes people meeting her don’t understand.... Let’s just say she makes a good first impression. And she uses that to her advantage.”

  That didn’t sound so unusual to me.

  “Doesn’t everyone?”

  “Sara uses it to her advantage with men.” Debra spoke slowly, enunciating each word as if she were speaking to a not-very-bright child. “She collects trophies. She likes other women’s boyfriends.”

  Ahhh.

  “Yours, too?”

  “Only one. That was enough. After that, I made sure she never met any of my male friends. Of course, he came running right back as soon as she lost interest. And believe me, Sara always loses interest. Sometimes overnight. She enjoys proving how attractive she is to other women’s men a whole lot more than she likes having relationships with them.”

  Debra took another slug of water. She used the back of her wristband to wipe a thin sheen of sweat from her brow. The temperature in the tennis facility was purposely kept cool. The other women who had come off the courts with her were beginning to pull on jackets and cover-ups. I wondered why Debra was still sweating.

  “When was the last time you and Sara were in touch?” I asked.

  “Let me think.” Her gaze wandered out to the courts. She didn’t seem to be trying to remember, as much as deciding what to say. “I guess we spoke briefly last week. She called me.”

  “About what?”

  “My husband, Jeff, is a lawyer in Greenwich. He’s in litigation, and let’s just say that he has a reputation for getting the job done. Sara was looking for a referral. She thought he might know someone. She told me she wanted a real shark.”

  “Did she say what for?”

  “No, and I didn’t ask. Frankly the thought that someone else Sara screwed was planning to drag her through the courts didn’t bother me one bit. I told her to try Jeff at his office.”

  “Do you know if she did?”

  “No, but if so, I doubt that they spoke. Jeff ’s never met Sara, but he’s heard me mention her. I don’t think he’d have taken her call.”

  The ladies at the other end of the lounge were beginning to stir. One by one, the matches on the courts were ending.

  “That’s my cue,” Debra said, standing. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Just one more thing. Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to hurt Sara?”

  Excluding yourself, I added silently.

  Debra’s raised brow let me know she knew what I was thinking. “Let’s see. Sara is a self-centered, totally auto-involved, egotistical rich bitch, who doesn’t mind how much trouble she causes or who she hurts as long as she’s happy. I’d say that leaves the field wide open, wouldn’t you?”

  12

  For years I’ve resisted carrying a cell phone. Even now I do so only grudgingly, and mostly for the sake of security. But I have to admit there are times when having instant access to the rest of the world comes in very handy.

  Back in the car, I dialed up Frank, told him I was only about twenty minutes away, and asked if he still had custody of my missing relatives.

  “Sure do.” He sounded happy enough about the arrangement. “Want to talk to them?”

  Without waiting for an answer, my brother put Bob on. “It’s about time you tracked us down,” he said. “Didn’t you find my note?”

  “Yes, that’s why I’m calling—”

  “Come on over. The game’s great. So’s the pizza.”

  With incentives like those, who could resist?

  “And your Aunt Peg is on her way.”

  That got my attention. “Why?”

  “Who knows?” Bob asked blithely. “Peg dances to her own tune. I think this whole wedding thing is making her nervous.”

  Not Aunt Peg. Solving murders didn’t make her nervous. Whelping premature puppies didn’t make her nervous. Showing at Westminster didn’t make her nervous. I doubted that something as simple as a family wedding could give her the jitters.

  “I’m on my way,” I said. “Do I need to stop and pick anything up?”

  Bob repeated the question to the others and came back with a shopping list that included beer, bean dip and duct tape. Something about an indoor football toss gone awry.

  The twenty minutes expanded to forty-five. By the time I reached Frank’s apartment in Cos Cob, Aunt Peg’s minivan was already parked on the street out front.

  Frank lives on the first floor of a remodeled Victorian house. What was originally a large one-family home now holds three smaller apartments, with the house’s elderly owner living upstairs. Being young and spry and usually short of cash, my brother pays for part of his rent by doing chores—mowing the lawn, painting, and carrying porch furniture up and down from the basement as the seasons change.

  Once he and Bertie were married, however, Frank would be moving to her place in Wilton. There was no way she could bring the kennel-full of dogs that comprised her livelihood here.

  “Hey, good to see you!” Frank opened the door, threw an arm around my shoulder, and pulled me close for a hug.

  The spontaneous gesture of affection felt good. And I was in no position to take such things for granted. Not too long ago, my brother and I seemed to be continually at loggerheads. Our parents had died eight years earlier, and though we’d both been nominal adults by then, I’d found myself having to step into the role of responsible big sister all too often as Frank wandered aimlessly from one escapade to the next.

  Recently, however, everything had changed. Frank had opened his own business, finally finding something he was good at and could actually make a living doing. And Bertie had come into his life.

  What had happened next was a revelation. My little brother was in love: joyously, dizzily, head over heels in lov
e. Watching him tumble for the statuesque redhead had been delightful; seeing him now try to live up to the good qualities she saw in him, an unexpected pleasure.

  Though I’d been the one to introduce them, I’d never expected them to form a permanent bond. Never had I been so pleased to be taken by surprise.

  Frank used the arm he had around my shoulder to pull me inside, grocery bags bumping against my legs as he nudged the door shut behind us.

  “Nacho chips!” Davey cried, eyeing the bags greedily.

  “Hello to you, too.” I leaned down and swiped a kiss across my son’s forehead, earning myself a glare filled with all the injured dignity a seven-year-old boy could muster.

  Bob and Davey were sitting on the couch facing the TV. Aunt Peg had commandeered the only chair in the room, and it, too, was angled to face the screen.

  Eve was snuggled in Davey’s lap, but Faith had gotten up to greet me at the door. I reached down to stroke the soft skin beneath the Poodle’s chin. She was probably happier than my relatives were to see me. Never let anyone tell you that dogs aren’t a blessing.

  I shifted the bags to one hand so I could give Faith a better scratch. “Aunt Peg, I didn’t know you liked football.”

  “Let’s just say I’m flexible. When in Rome . . .”

  Which begged the question of what she was doing in Rome. Or in Cos Cob, as the case might be.

  “Let me just put this stuff away,” I said, heading for the kitchen. “I’ll be right back.”

  The phone rang as I was pouring the bean dip into a bowl. I picked up and found myself talking to Bertie, calling to check in with Frank before she left a dog show in New Jersey for the two-hour ride home. Most people have weekends off. Not professional handlers, that’s when they do the majority of their work.

  “Melanie, good,” she said, when she realized who she had on the line. “I needed to talk to you anyway. Have you found out anything about Sara?”

  “Not much.” I gave her a quick run-through of the day’s events. “But I did come up with a couple of odd things. First of all, Titus.”

  “What about him?”

  “Remember those big bowls of food and water we saw in Sara’s cottage? Apparently they were meant for him. Sara left the dog behind and it looks as though that stuff was supposed to tide him over.”

  “That makes no sense. Titus went everywhere with Sara. If she had left of her own accord, she’d have taken him with her. And if she didn’t, when did she have the chance to fill those bowls?”

  “The whole thing is pretty strange,” I said. “According to Delilah, someone from her kennel found Titus wandering around the grounds at the beginning of the week.”

  “And she still didn’t think that meant something was wrong?” Bertie sounded outraged.

  “Apparently not. Delilah said that Sara makes a habit of running when life gets tough.” Leaning against the counter, I fished a chip out of the bag and ran it through the dip. “Which leads me to my next point. Everyone I’ve spoken to has mentioned that Sara goes through a lot of boyfriends. That once she gets a guy, she loses interest pretty quickly. I’m wondering if she might have dumped someone who took things a little too personally.”

  “It’s possible,” Bertie mused. “But since we don’t know who she was seeing . . .”

  “You said she was with your cousin Josh last summer.”

  “Right.”

  “I was thinking I ought to talk to him. He might know who was next in line, and from there I could trace things up to the present.”

  “It’s worth a try,” Bertie agreed. “Let me call Josh and I’ll have him get back to you.”

  “Great. Last thing: Debra Silver said that Sara was trying to get a referral for a lawyer. Do you have any idea what that was about?”

  “A lawyer?” Bertie sounded surprised. “No. None. Grant’s a lawyer. At least he used to be. I don’t think he practices anymore, but if she’d had a problem, I would think Sara would have talked to him.”

  “According to Debra, she was looking for outside help. Not that it looks as though she found any. Do you think Sara might have run away because she felt threatened by someone?”

  “I wish I knew. At least if she ran away, it means she’s okay. But if that’s the case, why hasn’t she called anyone? Her note said she’d be in touch.”

  “It also said that you weren’t supposed to believe everything you heard about her,” I pointed out.

  “So what have we heard?” Bertie sounded frustrated. “Hardly anything we didn’t know already. This whole mess is driving me crazy, Melanie, and time is passing. This wedding’s going to happen in some shape or form whether I’m ready or not. Do you suppose you could do me a favor?”

  “Probably.” When it comes to my family, I never commit without first hearing what’s involved.

  “Would you possibly have time to stop by a place called Pansy’s Flowers? It’s in Stamford, so it shouldn’t be too far out of your way. Sara told me she thought they’d be the best place for what I wanted. She’d already contacted them about the kinds of bouquets and arrangements we’d need, and they were going to get back to her with prices. Of course, now I’m sure they’re wondering whatever happened to us. Could you pick up a price list and let them know that we’re still interested in their services?”

  “Sure.” That didn’t sound too hard. “I can probably do it Monday after school.”

  “Thanks. You’re such a help. That makes one less thing to worry about. Is Frank around?”

  “Watching football in the other room. I’ll go get him.”

  While Frank talked to Bertie, I grabbed a few moments alone with Aunt Peg. Like Bertie, she wanted to know how things were progressing. “There’s something that occurred to me after we spoke yesterday,” she said. “That note that Sara left for Bertie didn’t make a whole lot of sense.”

  I nodded and snagged another nacho chip. After a moment, Aunt Peg followed suit.

  “Sara said she thought she could count on Bertie, which, under the circumstances, seems backwards. Count on Bertie to do what? Sara was the one who was supposed to be helping Bertie, not the other way around.”

  “I know.”

  “Maybe she meant that as kind of a nudge. Maybe Delilah is right and Sara did run away. For whatever reason, she couldn’t take Titus with her, but she was hoping Bertie would go to her house and find him.”

  “Why?”

  Aunt Peg aimed a withering look in my direction. “Am I supposed to know everything?”

  “Why not? It would certainly make my life easier.”

  She slid another chip through the bean dip. “All I’m trying to do is broaden your thinking.”

  “Aunt Peg, I don’t need any more questions.”

  “Maybe you do. Maybe you’re not asking the right questions, have you ever thought of that?”

  Always.

  But that was going to have to be tomorrow’s problem. Now I was tired of tracking down answers that only seemed to lead to more puzzles. It was Saturday night, and I was declaring myself off-duty. I popped the top on a can of beer, picked up the chips and dip, and went out to the living room to join my family.

  The next morning I was planning to sleep late. I was determined to sleep late. Come on, it was Sunday. My last chance for a whole week.

  The telephone woke me up just before seven.

  I heard the ringing in my sleep. For an addled moment, it seemed to be part of my dream. Then the dream vanished and I thought I’d set my alarm by mistake. By the third ring, after swatting the clock to no avail, I had one eye open and Eve was dancing on the bed.

  I groaned, rolled over, and picked up the receiver.

  “Hi, Mel, it’s me.”

  Bob? What could he possibly want at this hour? He’d been up just as late as I had the night before; our family gathering lasting through an impromptu dinner, followed by a killer game of team scrabble that had my ex and my aunt at each other’s throats. Not that this was anything new.


  Davey had been asleep on the couch by the time I’d loaded the two Poodles in the Volvo for the trip home. Bob had picked up his son and carried him outside, laying him gently on the back seat and tucking his jacket snugly around the small sleeping form.

  When I’d thanked him for his help, Bob had offered to accompany me home. If I wanted.

  It wasn’t hard to see that he’d been disappointed when I shook my head. Now, a scant eight hours later, here he was again. If he said something suggestive about my being in bed, I was going to hang up on him.

  “You there, Mel?” Bob asked. “Are you awake?”

  “Not really.” I hiked myself up on one elbow and debated how many seconds I could afford to waste before Eve lost control of her small puppy bladder on my comforter.

  “You haven’t seen today’s paper?”

  “Until the phone rang, Bob, today hadn’t even started for me yet. Damn! Wait! Wait! Hold on!”

  Dashing from side to side across the bed, Eve had that frantic look puppies get when they sense that a mistake is about to become inevitable. I threw back the covers, scooped her up, ran downstairs, and put her out the back door. Looking vastly relieved, the Poodle squatted at the bottom of the steps.

  I hurried over to the counter and picked up the phone. “Still there?”

  “I’m here.” Bob didn’t sound happy. “What the hell happened? Is everything okay? Do you need me to come over?”

  “Everything’s fine,” I assured him. Awakened by our hasty descent, Faith came trotting into the kitchen. I opened the door again and she joined Eve in the backyard. “Eve needed to go outside. She’s still a baby and her housebreaking isn’t perfect yet.”

  “Thank God.” Bob exhaled. “I thought something was really wrong.”

  Waiting for the Poodles to finish outside, I pulled out a kitchen chair and sat. “Why would you think that?”

  “There’s a story on the front page of today’s newspaper. You know that woman you and Bertie have been looking for? She seems to have turned up dead.”