Murder at the Puppy Fest

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Murder at the Puppy Fest Page 18

by Laurien Berenson


  “Peg refusing to spill all? That has to be a first.”

  “It came as a shock to me too,” I agreed. “So what are we talking about? Clandestine business dealings? Kindergarten memories? Some great unrequited love? I hope it’s something juicy.”

  Abruptly Claire’s amusement vanished. “No, no, and no. Most especially to the last.”

  Shakespeare, had he been lunching with us, would have said that the lady protested too much.

  “You sound pretty adamant about that,” I said. Her denial had also been loud enough to draw attention from surrounding tables. I didn’t bother to mention that part.

  “Sorry.” Claire’s voice dropped. “It’s nothing really. Joe Brody and I are old news. Very old news. He plays no part in my life at all anymore.”

  “But he did at one time?”

  She gazed at me across the table. Claire’s usually lively expression was grave. “Look, the main thing you need to know is that this all happened a long time ago. Before I met Bob.”

  “I never suspected any differently.” That concern was easy to dismiss. “What, precisely, went on between you and Joe Brody?”

  “He and I dated . . . no, that’s a stupid word to describe it.” She frowned and started over. “He and I were involved in a relationship for six months.”

  Holy moley. That was news.

  I found myself leaning closer across the table. “Was it serious?”

  “I thought so. Joe apparently felt differently.”

  “How did you guys meet?”

  “Through Nick. He did some work for Jane at Puppy Posse. You know that, right?”

  I nodded.

  “One day Joe stopped by and he and Nick got to talking. They became friends and Nick introduced us. When I first met Joe, I had no idea who his family was. It’s not like Brody is an unusual name. He was just some cute guy sitting on Nick’s couch drinking a beer.”

  “And then what happened?”

  Claire raised her eyebrows. “I assume you’re not asking for a complete accounting of what came next?”

  “No, heaven forbid. Just the general idea.”

  “You probably don’t even need that,” she said. “How about if I skip ahead to the moral of the story?”

  “That sounds ominous.”

  “Let’s just say that my time with Joe was a learning experience.” Claire’s gaze dropped. She’d been using her fork to push the food around her bowl rather than to eat it. “Did you meet Joe at Puppy Fest?”

  “We crossed paths in the kitchen.” I lifted a hand to forestall the inevitable question. “Jane sent me there to get bottled water for the puppies.”

  Claire opened her mouth to speak. After a moment, she reconsidered and shut it again.

  That was pretty much how I felt about Jane.

  “I talked to Joe again yesterday,” I said. “His older sister, Libby, is convinced that their father’s death wasn’t an accident. She suspects that one of the family members might have had something to do with it.”

  Claire didn’t look surprised. “Peg mentioned that.”

  “You were there,” I said. “And apparently you know the Brodys better than most people. What’s your take on the situation?”

  “Off the top of my head?”

  “Sure.”

  “I wouldn’t put anything past that family.”

  Oh. I swallowed heavily.

  “Let’s get back to you and Joe for a minute,” I said.

  “There is no ‘me and Joe.’ ” Very deliberately, Claire corrected me. “Not anymore.”

  “It sounds like that’s a good thing,” I told her. “How did it end?”

  “Badly. Are you looking for details?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind talking about it. What I do mind is the way Joe treated me. That’s why I asked a minute ago if you’d met him. Since you have, I’d be curious to hear what you think of him.”

  Bearing in mind that Claire had devoted six months of her life to Joe Brody, I said, “He seemed like a nice guy. Friendly, trying to be helpful. Joe was with his brother, Graham, when I saw him yesterday. For two people who live together, they don’t appear to get along very well.”

  “Yeah, sparring has always been their thing,” Claire said. “When they started picking at each other, I’ll bet Joe was the one who stayed calm and unruffled. Graham probably lost it and Joe came off looking like the reasonable one, didn’t he?”

  I nodded slowly.

  “That’s what Joe does. He always seems so agreeable. Mr. Nice Guy who gets along with everybody. But after a while you begin to wonder why Joe gets so many opportunities to be the guy who remains calm in the midst of chaos. How come everybody else is always losing their temper when he’s around?”

  “Interesting,” I said. “Go on.”

  “That amiable facade is what Joe wants the world to see. But the truth is, he’s the kind of guy who gets his kicks from watching other people squirm. He loves to manipulate people’s feelings and poke at their sore spots. Don’t fall for Joe’s act, Melanie. He is not the person he wants you to think he is.”

  I sat back in my seat, feeling hollow inside. I was shocked by Claire’s confession. “Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this before?”

  “I don’t tell anyone. The time I spent with Joe is not something I’m proud of.” She paused to suck in a deep breath. “I should have seen Joe for what he was a whole lot sooner and gotten out. I feel stupid for staying with him as long as I did.”

  “But if your relationship is over now—”

  “It is,” she said firmly.

  “Then why do you suspect he had something to do with you being put in charge of Puppy Fest?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but it’s the only thing that makes sense. The call about the job came out of the blue. Think about it. Leo Brody’s office calling me? A tiny one-person party-planning company? That’s crazy. If not for Joe, how else would they have even known my name?”

  “I get that there’s a possible connection there,” I said slowly. “But why would Joe do something like that now, after so much time has passed?”

  “I have no idea. I couldn’t even begin to tell you how Joe Brody’s devious mind works. For all I know, he was annoyed that I’m married and happy, and he couldn’t resist sticking his nose back into my business to see if he could stir up trouble.”

  I returned to my salad, picking through the greens with my fork to spear a piece of chicken. “Under those circumstances. . . why would you accept the job?”

  Claire looked surprised that I even had to ask.

  “Are you kidding me? Puppy Fest was a huge opportunity for me. Since I left the corporate world, mostly what I get hired to do is arrange children’s birthday parties. I’m not complaining, mind you. It’s great to have steady work. But I’m capable of doing a lot more, you know?”

  I nodded. I could see that.

  “Puppy Fest was a challenge and a chance to use all my skills for a change. Even more important, just having my name associated with that event could make a big difference in who approaches me to do business in the future. I hoped Puppy Fest would be my big break. There was no way I was going to pass that up.”

  “But feeling as you do about Joe Brody, didn’t it bother you that he was once again pulling strings behind the scenes?”

  “No, because I refused to even think about it,” Claire said with a clear sense of resolve. “I was wrong to ever let Joe push me around. Or to let him believe that he could dictate my life choices. I’m never going to give him that kind of power over me again.”

  “Good for you,” I said roundly. “You must have seen Joe at the house during the event, though. Did the two of you talk?”

  “No, not even once.” Claire frowned as she thought back. “I thought that was a little odd. A couple of times, I saw him across the ballroom. Joe was just standing there, observing the activity from afar. But he never came to say hello to me, and it’s not like
I was going to make the first move.”

  We took a break from talking and devoted ourselves to our salads. The chicken was delicious, moist and slightly spicy, the perfect counterpoint to the sweet fruits that accompanied it. Maybe I ought to ask Frank for the recipe, I thought. That would probably make him laugh.

  Five minutes later, Claire’s meal was still mostly untouched. Since she wasn’t eating anyway, I figured I might as well go back to asking questions. “I know it’s none of my business, but just how acrimonious was your breakup with Joe?”

  “On a scale of ‘we’re still friends’ to ‘I hate your guts’?” Claire smiled grimly. “Probably a whole lot closer to the latter. Joe likes to be the one who decides when the relationship is over. He wasn’t happy that I broke things off with him. Why?”

  “What if he had an ulterior motive for getting you that job?” I asked. “What if he knew that something bad was going to happen at the house that day? You hoped that Puppy Fest would enhance your career. What if Joe hoped that your being associated with Leo Brody’s death would have the opposite effect?”

  Both of us stopped and considered that. For a long minute, there was only silence. Finally Claire looked up and spoke.

  “I’m going to tell you something important,” she said. “So listen and pay attention. You should watch your step around Joe, especially if he thinks you suspect him of something. When things get ugly with him, they get ugly fast.”

  “I’ll definitely bear that in mind.”

  My thoughts went back to the previous afternoon, and the odd interlude Joe and I had shared as I was leaving. In light of the other things Claire had told me, I wondered if it was worth mentioning.

  I must have been frowning because she reached across the table and poked me. “What?”

  “It’s probably no big deal. Just something that happened yesterday with Joe that seemed a little . . . off.”

  “Tell me.”

  “There’s not much to tell. He was just . . . flirting . . . with me in a rather heavy-handed way. Which was stupid on a couple of levels but especially because Kevin was standing right there beside me. I mean, seriously, what did he think I was going to do?”

  “What did you do?” Claire asked.

  “I left.”

  “Good answer. Even better if you stay away from him altogether.”

  The waitress brought our check. I’d not only invited Claire, I’d spent the meal pumping her for information. I nabbed the ticket before she even had a chance to look at it, added a credit card, and handed it back. Claire started to protest, but I overrode her objections.

  “Lunch is on me,” I said. “You earned it.”

  “All we did was talk.”

  “That’s all I wanted. One more question while we wait for her to come back?”

  Claire settled back in her seat. “Shoot.”

  “Becca Montague.”

  “Like I said before, I never met her. The only thing I know about her is that the rest of the family hated her.”

  “Who told you that?” I asked curiously.

  “Jane talked about her once when we were going over some details for Puppy Fest. The siblings thought she was only after Leo for his money.”

  “That’s the impression I got too. I’ve called Becca a couple of times, but she’s never called me back.”

  “Now that Leo’s gone, maybe she doesn’t see the point.”

  “Becca’s the one who found his body,” I reminded her. “She was in the office with him when I got there.”

  “Then you’d better keep trying,” she said.

  Chapter 19

  I watched Claire drive away, then sat in my car in The Bean Counter’s tiny parking lot and tapped out Becca Montague’s phone number. Again. I was about to hang up after the fifth ring when the call connected.

  “This is Becca Montague,” the woman trilled. She sounded unexpectedly cheerful for someone who’d lost a very dear friend just ten days earlier.

  I introduced myself, then paused briefly, wondering if she would recognize my name. When she didn’t comment, I took that as a no. Considering the circumstances of our initial encounter, I didn’t see any reason to jog her memory.

  Instead I said, “I’m hoping I can ask you a few questions about your relationship with Leo Brody?”

  I half-expected Becca to disconnect the call—or to demand what right I had to ask anything of her. But once again, she surprised me.

  “It’s your lucky day,” she said in a coy tone. “I guess I have a few minutes to talk. Which news outlet did you say you were from?”

  Obviously, I hadn’t. And now, caught red-handed, I didn’t have a decent answer. Luckily, Becca forged ahead without waiting for my reply.

  “Oh, never mind, it doesn’t matter. I’m just glad you want to hear my story. I’d be delighted to tell you all about my exciting life with noted philanthropist Leo Brody. And I’d especially like to let you in on the plans that he and I were making for our wedding.”

  “Wedding?” I sputtered. This call was turning out to be one surprise after another. “You and Mr. Brody were planning to get married?”

  “Yes, we were madly in love. It was all wonderfully romantic.”

  “I had no idea,” I said. I was quite certain I wasn’t the only one. “When was the wedding going to take place?”

  “We didn’t have a firm date yet,” Becca said airily. “Leo and I were still ironing out the details. As I’m sure you know, he was a very important man. So it took a great deal of planning to clear enough time in his schedule for a proper honeymoon.”

  “Of course,” I murmured.

  “Leo offered to take me anywhere in the world. Isn’t that fabulous? So naturally I chose Paris. He and I were going to explore the City of Light as husband and wife.” She hammered her point home yet again.

  “That sounds wonderful. I’m sure the rest of the Brody family must have been thrilled that their father had found true love at last.”

  I was laying it on a little thick. But not only did Becca not mind, she loved it.

  “You’re exactly right,” she enthused. “What Leo and I shared was true love. He and I were soul mates.”

  “And his family?” I prodded gently.

  “If you must know, Leo hadn’t yet told his children about our impending nuptials. Children, indeed!” She snorted under her breath. “They are all fully grown adults. But Leo said he was waiting for just the right moment to tell them about our plans. In the meantime, the engagement was our secret. That made things even more delicious, don’t you think?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Agreeing with Becca was the easiest way to keep her talking, even if I didn’t believe much of what she was saying. A secret engagement sounded highly unlikely to me. But with Leo no longer able to set the record straight, Becca appeared to be rewriting her own story.

  “Under the circumstances, Mr. Brody’s sudden death must have come as a huge shock to you,” I said.

  “Huge,” Becca echoed the word back to me. “I felt like my whole world ended right then and there. I’m not over it yet.”

  I should hope not. It had barely been more than a week.

  “I understand you were there when it happened. How did Mr. Brody die?”

  “From eating a cookie, of all things. Leo was severely allergic to peanuts. Only his closest confidants were privy to that weakness of his. Of course I was well aware.”

  She obviously hoped that nugget of information would depict her as a member of Leo’s inner circle, but the ploy was lost on me. Everyone I’d spoken to—all of them more credible than Becca was turning out to be—had told me that Leo Brody’s peanut allergy was widely known.

  Unfortunately this conversation wasn’t getting me anywhere. Though Becca was turning out to be wonderfully loquacious, I hadn’t learned a single thing I didn’t already know. I crossed my fingers and took a flyer.

  “Tell me about those cookies,” I said. “Where did they come from? Did you bring t
hem with you as a present for your fiancé?”

  I heard a gasp and knew I’d pushed my luck too far.

  “Certainly not!” Becca snapped. “What are you implying? Those blasted cookies were just sitting there in Leo’s office. I had nothing to do with them.”

  “But you must have seen him pick one up—”

  When Becca broke in, her voice had hardened. “What did you say your name was again?”

  “Melanie Travis.”

  “I’ve heard that name before.”

  I bet she was wishing she’d been paying more attention when I’d identified myself earlier. It wasn’t my fault that Becca had been so eager to air her story to the press, she hadn’t stopped to check my credentials.

  “You’re that woman,” she said suddenly. “The one who called the police.”

  “That’s right. I’m the one who happened upon the scene and found you leaning over Leo Brody’s body.” I hoped that disclosure might provoke her to say something imprudent, but Becca wasn’t listening to me anymore.

  “Where did you get my phone number?” she demanded. “How dare you call and harass me like this? Are you stalking me now? I’m going to get an order of protection. I’ll see you in court—”

  She probably kept yelling, but I’d already disconnected.

  It appeared the Brody siblings had been right to be concerned about Becca’s determined pursuit of their father. I wondered how solid her relationship with Leo had actually been. While he was alive, Becca had a chance to make her dream of becoming Leo’s fourth wife come true. But maybe he’d had other ideas.

  Caroline had said that her father had no intention of ever marrying again. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine that Becca wouldn’t have been happy to find that out. She’d already admitted that she was aware of Leo’s peanut allergy. Not only that, but I’d just seen for myself that it didn’t take much to spark her temper.

  Several of the siblings had told me that Becca Montague wasn’t important. But suddenly I wasn’t so sure about that.

 

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