Murder at the Puppy Fest

by Laurien Berenson

  “Why?”

  “If you need to ask that, you’ve been spending your time with the wrong kind of men.”

  I slid my hand out from beneath his. “I haven’t been spending my time with any men. I’m married.”

  Joe just shrugged. Somehow he made the motion look like an invitation. He turned the knob and drew the door open.

  “Any time you want to continue our conversation, just give me a call,” he said.

  I should have come back with a snappy retort. Something that would put Joe in his place. Instead I was rendered speechless. Thankfully Kevin came to the rescue.

  He gave my hand a sharp tug. “Mommy, let’s go,” he said.

  We made it all the way to the car before I looked back. The door to the house was still open. Joe was standing in the doorway staring after us.

  * * *

  Kevin and I spent some time at the library, then picked up Davey at camp. When we arrived home, I found out that Sam had invited Aunt Peg to dinner.

  “Are you cooking?” I asked hopefully.

  Sam gestured toward the grill, his favorite go-to appliance.

  “Is Aunt Peg bringing dessert?”

  Aunt Peg has a sweet tooth of near-mythical proportion. Thanks to her influence, I now share her fondness—bordering on addiction—for cakes from the St. Moritz Bakery in Greenwich.

  “I told her that was part of the deal,” Sam said.

  “What’s the other part?” I asked, suddenly suspicious.

  “I’d imagine she’s going to want to hear all about the dastardly doings of Libby Rothko’s relatives.”

  “Fine by me.” That part was easy. “I’ll try to come up with some before she gets here.”

  Before Aunt Peg’s minivan had even turned in the driveway, the Poodle posse was already lined up at the front door waiting for her. I didn’t know why that happened, but it wasn’t the first time I’d seen the dogs respond that way. I guessed she must send out a vibe that’s akin to the Bat Signal. I know she’s fully capable of making the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

  Davey raced outside as Aunt Peg’s minivan was rolling to a stop. Kevin was hot on his heels. The Poodles—bless their hearts—paused to ask for permission before scrambling en masse out the door. At least somebody was well trained.

  When I reached the front walk, Aunt Peg was wading through the Poodle pack milling around her legs. She stopped and peered down at Bud. “I see you’re still here.”

  “Of course he’s still here,” Davey said stoutly. “This is where he lives.” His eyes went to the cardboard box tied with white string in Aunt Peg’s hand. “Is that cake?”

  She handed him the box. “I got a shadow cake. Black and white in honor of Bud. How’s that for a good idea?”

  “Perfect,” I said.

  “Bud and I are having cake,” Kevin crowed.

  I reached down and ruffled his hair. “After dinner. Now go and wash your hands. We’re almost ready to eat.”

  Both my children followed directions and went inside the house. That was more like it. Who cared if their compliance was probably due to the promise of cake? I was choosing to look on the bright side.

  “I spoke with Libby before coming here tonight,” Aunt Peg said.

  “Oh? How is she?”

  “Quite cross, if you must know.”

  “I wonder why,” I said innocently.

  She looked at me askance. “Libby wants answers.”

  “She and I met for the first time on Friday,” I pointed out. “Now it’s Monday. I hope you told her that I’m not the Energizer Bunny.”

  “I told her you’re doing your best,” Aunt Peg said on a long exhale.

  “That would sound more impressive if you said it without the sigh.”

  “What would be more impressive is results.”

  Sam stuck his head out the door. He had a grilling fork in one hand and an oven mitt on the other. “Hey, we’re hungry in here. If you two don’t hurry up, we’re going to eat without you.”

  We both hurried to comply. Whatever Sam was cooking smelled great. Aunt Peg lifted her head and sniffed the air like a dog on the scent of a rabbit.

  “Trout,” she said with satisfaction. “Good for my diet.”

  And then there would be cake. Good for our taste buds.

  While we ate, Aunt Peg grilled me about what I’d learned so far. I started by outlining the various relationships within Leo Brody’s extended family. She listened for less than five minutes, then waved me on impatiently.

  “Enough about the siblings. What about Leo’s will? Where did all that money go? And which of his relatives couldn’t wait to get his or her grubby hands on it?”

  “That’s the problem,” I said. “They all inherited. The children each received a share of Leo Brody’s money and the grandchildren’s bequests were put in trust for them.”

  “Now things are starting to get interesting,” Aunt Peg said with satisfaction. “Which of the siblings was in dire need of cash?”

  “According to Libby, it’s Graham,” I said. “But according to Graham, he’s not the only one.”

  “Libby seems to be rather well situated,” Aunt Peg mused.

  “So does her sister Caroline. She and her family live in a showplace of a house in Greenwich. But Graham says that she and her husband are strapped for cash. He also told me that Nancy, the oldest, goes through money like water.”

  “This Graham character sounds like he had a lot to say.” Aunt Peg sounded pleased. “What does he do?”

  “He calls himself a venture capitalist. But his brother, Joe, implied that he’s not very successful.”

  “That’s one way to lose a lot of cash fast,” Sam commented.

  We all nodded in agreement. Even Kevin, who was busy eating his peas. He doesn’t love the taste but he enjoys the challenge of trying to keep them on his fork long enough to get them to his mouth.

  “Don’t forget,” Aunt Peg interjected, “according to what Libby told us, none of Leo’s adult children were being supported by him and they were bitter about that. It appears they all felt their relationship with their father entitled them to a higher standard of living.”

  “If they were looking for financial gain, most of the siblings haven’t made the best career choices,” I said. “Joe is currently bartending. Jane manages the Puppy Posse. Nancy, whom I haven’t met yet, lives on a farm in North Salem.”

  “So they all stood to benefit from their father’s death,” Sam summed up.

  “Right. And there’s something else. Earlier today, Libby told me that her father was thinking about changing his will. He’d decided to allocate more of his assets for the global good.”

  Aunt Peg shook her head. “Leo’s children can’t have been happy about that.”

  “No, indeed,” Sam agreed. “And then along came Puppy Fest.”

  “The timing could hardly have been more convenient,” I said. “Because of the event, most of the family was present at the house that day. And of course Mr. Brody was guaranteed to be there too. Not only that, but the place is huge. The siblings grew up in that house and I’m sure they’re all well aware of how to slip in and out of places without being seen.”

  “This is all very interesting,” Aunt Peg said. “You’ve certainly been dealt a full house of suspects.”

  Davey groaned. Sam bit back a smile. I just sighed.

  “So far, they’ve all either tried to convince me that Brody’s death was an accident, or they’ve pointed a finger at somebody else,” I said. “To hear them tell it, each of the siblings adored their father and would never have done anything to harm him.”

  “Of course they would say that to you,” Aunt Peg replied skeptically. “What you need is an outsider’s opinion of that family.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but even with the access Libby has provided, I am an outsider. I’m quite certain that I’m being told only what the Brody family wants me to hear.”

  “Precisely. That’s why yo
u should talk to Claire.”

  “Claire?” Sam and I exchanged a startled look. “What would she know about Leo Brody’s family?”

  Aunt Peg set down her fork. The only way her plate could have gotten any cleaner was if she’d picked it up and licked it. Come to think of it, I wouldn’t put that past her. Rather than replying to my question, she veered toward a new topic. It was a perennial favorite: dogs.

  “Claire and I have been getting together to work on Thor and Jojo’s training. Have you met them?”

  Only Aunt Peg would phrase the question that way—as if Thor and Jojo were acquaintances of Claire’s whom she might have introduced me to at some point. In reality, they were dogs. Thor was a powerful Rottweiler mix and Jojo was a little tan terrier with a wiry coat. Both had been adopted from the pound by Claire’s late brother, the talented dog whisperer Nick Walden.

  Nothing was known about the dogs’ lives before Nick took them in, and both still carried emotional scars from their previous situations. Thor’s insecurities manifested themselves in a pugnacious and sometimes aggressive attitude. Jojo was timid and afraid of strangers. Nick had been in the process of re-socializing the pair when he’d died the previous year.

  Claire was doing the best she could for Thor and Jojo, but she didn’t share her brother’s intuitive touch. Now that she and Aunt Peg had gotten to know one another, it didn’t surprise me that Claire had turned to Peg for help.

  “I’ve met them both and I’m glad you’ve stepped in to work with them. They can be a handful for Claire, especially Thor.”

  “I can’t help but feel sorry for that poor dog,” Aunt Peg said. “He doesn’t want to be bad. But early on, someone must have gotten in his face and taught him that fighting back and bullying his way through life was the only way to get what he needed. Claire’s slowly getting him turned around. What she lacks in knowledge she makes up in patience and willingness to learn. I hope your ex-husband realizes what a gem he got when he married that woman.”

  Bob had never been one of Aunt Peg’s favorite people. Not that I could blame her for that. For years, he hadn’t been one of mine either. It had taken us a long time to become friends again, with Davey being the catalyst for our rapprochement. For my son’s sake, I’d forgiven a lot. Aunt Peg was coming around more slowly.

  “You were going to tell us something about Claire and the Brody family?” Sam prompted.

  Aunt Peg nodded. “As you might imagine, Claire and I have had several opportunities to chat recently.”

  “And yet somehow she neglected to tell you about Puppy Fest,” I said under my breath.

  Aunt Peg heard me anyway. Her gaze sharpened. “We’ve moved past that. Just this past week, she and I had an interesting chat about her participation in the event. Stop and think about it. Leo was a man with endless resources and connections. So how do you suppose Claire landed a job like that? Why would she have been hired to manage Puppy Fest?”

  It had never occurred to me to question how Claire had gotten the assignment. She was an event planner. Puppy Fest was an event. That seemed logical enough to me.

  “Claire’s brother, Nick, did volunteer work at Puppy Posse, right?” I said. “So he and Jane knew one another. I figured that was the connection that brought Claire to Leo Brody’s attention.”

  “That was one connection.” Aunt Peg paused until all eyes around the table were trained on her. She loves a dramatic flourish. “But it wasn’t the only link between them. Nor the most important one.”

  Sam and I both perked up. Davey stopped eating and paid attention. Even Kevin, who probably hadn’t a clue what we were talking about, looked interested.

  “So there you have it.” She braced her hands on the edge of the table and rose from her seat. “That’s why you need to talk to Claire. Now, who’s ready to give that shadow cake a try?”

  “Wait . . . what?” I sputtered. “You mean you’re not going to tell us?”

  “No. It’s not my story to tell.”

  “But you can’t just leave us hanging.”

  Aunt Peg favored me with a sly smile. This was payback for that crack about Puppy Fest. It had to be.

  “You may hang all you like,” she said. “Meanwhile, Sam and the boys and I will be eating cake.”

  “Aww, Mom.” Davey laughed. “You deserved that.”

  Chapter 18

  Claire and I met for lunch at The Bean Counter the next day.

  Opened half a dozen years earlier by my younger brother, Frank, the quaint café in North Stamford had originally been a coffee bar. Well-situated just outside the city’s commercial zone, it also drew traffic from surrounding towns. The historic clapboard building had quickly become a popular lunch spot for shoppers, suburbanites, and nearby office workers.

  As The Bean Counter’s popularity had grown, so had its menu. The country bistro now offered a variety of sandwiches and pastries in addition to its signature gourmet coffees. The expanding business had also added a partner: Claire’s husband, my ex-husband, Bob.

  Frank’s outgoing personality meant that he was at his best in the front of the house. He made sandwiches, kissed babies, and greeted returning customers by name. Bob ran the back office. Trained as an accountant, he did the books, managed payroll, and kept a sharp eye on inventory. Bob also reined in my brother’s more outrageous impulses. We were all grateful for that.

  Frank was behind the counter, bantering with customers, when I arrived. He sketched a quick wave and pointed toward a booth in the back of the room where Claire was already seated.

  My brother and I shared the same light brown hair and slender build, but beyond that, we didn’t have a lot in common. I was the shy child who worried about everything. Frank was the goof-off who made friends easily, cared deeply about nothing, and skated through life in the fast lane.

  I’d spent much of my childhood making excuses for Frank and covering up for his misdeeds. All these years later, there were still times when I looked at the responsible adult he’d become and saw only the mischievous little boy who had driven me crazy.

  Claire looked up from her phone as I slid into the booth opposite her. She quickly tucked the device away. “I ordered for us already. It was busy when I got here, and the line was growing quickly. I figured that would be more efficient. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Nope, that’s fine,” I said. “What am I having?”

  It would be a treat to eat something that actually appeared on the blackboard for a change. Frank had a tendency to treat me like his own personal crash dummy. He served me all sorts of innovative concoctions—food combinations he’d dreamed up but hadn’t yet deemed menu-worthy. Some were actually tasty. Others left me with heartburn and a sour taste in the back of my mouth.

  “Caribbean chicken salad. It looked really good so I ordered one for each of us. And iced tea. How does that sound?”

  “Perfect.” I plucked my napkin off the table and settled it on my lap. “Even Frank can’t screw that up.”

  Claire’s lips thinned. “Even Frank? Really Melanie, look around you. Frank built The Bean Counter from scratch and this place is thriving. It’s a random mid-week afternoon, and I could barely find a place for us to sit down. People are clamoring for what Frank does. Bob is amazed with how well things are going here. I don’t think you give your brother enough credit.”

  Claire tells it like it is. It’s one of the things I love about her. And I’d deserved that.

  “You’re right,” I said. “I have to stop thinking of Frank as my annoying little brother and accept him for who he is now.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up too badly.” Claire grinned. “At times Frank can still be pretty annoying. Just ask Bertie.”

  I’d only been half-joking when I had warned Bertie not to marry my feckless brother. Fortunately for all concerned, she’d gone ahead and done it anyway. The union had turned both their lives around. And as a bonus, I’d gained the sister I’d always wanted.

  “I talked to her this
morning,” I said. “Now that she’s taking things easy, she’s feeling pretty good. But she’s still counting down the days—”

  “Days?” Claire looked amused. “Bertie still has weeks to go.”

  “Don’t try telling her that. She’s ready for that kid to make an appearance right now.”

  The waitress appeared with our order. She placed our drinks to one side, then set a large wooden bowl down in front of each of us.

  Claire and I paused to have a look. Grilled chicken, pineapple, avocado, and mango rested on a bed of leafy greens. Blue cheese crumbles and shredded coconut were sprinkled on top. There was a ramekin of tart vinaigrette on the side.

  “Wow,” I said. “I take back those mean things I ever said about Frank. This looks great.”

  “I told you.” Claire sounded smug.

  I stirred some sugar into my tea, then popped a piece of mango in my mouth. A burst of flavor lit up my mouth and I nearly moaned with pleasure. Claire poured a small amount of vinaigrette onto her salad, then took a bite of chicken. I waited until she’d swallowed before broaching the topic that had brought us together.

  “I hear that Aunt Peg has been working with Thor and Jojo.”

  “Yes, she’s been stopping by a couple times a week. As I’m sure you can imagine, her input is invaluable. Jojo’s finally starting to come out of her shell, and even Thor is beginning to settle down.” She glanced up. “But that’s not really what we’re here to talk about, is it?”

  “No,” I admitted. “I was trying to be subtle.”

  “You, subtle? I don’t think so.” Claire was too polite to laugh but I could see she was thinking about it. “I’m guessing that you want to hear about me and Joe.”

  “Joe?” I swallowed wrong and came up coughing. Whatever I’d expected her to say, it certainly wasn’t that. I got my breath back and said, “You and Joe Brody?”

  “Yes, me and Joe Brody. Didn’t Peg tell you? I just assumed it was why we were here.”

  “No, she didn’t tell me.” And now that seemed odd. It wasn’t like Aunt Peg to exercise discretion. Especially when she was in possession of a bombshell of this magnitude. “She made a cryptic comment about some secret connection that had brought you in contact with Leo Brody. But then she refused to give any details.”