Murder at the Puppy Fest

by Laurien Berenson

* * *

  The day was turning out to be full of surprises. When I arrived home, there were visitors waiting for me.

  Sam doesn’t usually run to meet me as soon as I come in the door—that’s the Poodles’ job—but he must have hightailed it out to the hallway when he heard the garage door closing. I was barely inside the house before he accosted me.

  “Thank God you’re back,” he said.

  “Is something wrong?”

  I glanced around and counted Poodle noses. My welcoming committee was unusually sparse. Only Faith and Eve were in evidence. That left a lot of dogs unaccounted for. And my younger son, of course.

  “Where’s Kevin?” I asked quickly.

  “He’s in my office. We’re playing Chutes and Ladders. He’s probably rearranging the board while I’m gone.”

  “Kevin cheats?” Relief made the question bubble out on a laugh.

  “He doesn’t seem to think of it as cheating. More like he’s clearing his path to a win.”

  I stared at my husband. Frankly, I did not see the distinction. I was pretty sure he didn’t either.

  “Anyway,” Sam continued, “Kev’s not the problem.”

  “Who is?”

  “Teenage girls, apparently. They’re very different than teenage boys.”

  That wasn’t news. I hoped Sam intended to get to the point soon.

  “I had no idea that two girls could talk so incessantly. Or that anyone could for that matter. I think their mouths are moving faster than their brains. Actually it’s amazing to watch. But then occasionally they squeal too.” Sam grimaced as if reliving a burst of ear pain. “Kevin seemed entertained by it, though.”

  “Two teenage girls,” I summed up. There’d been a car parked on the road as I’d come in, but I hadn’t given it much thought. Since I’m a pretty good sleuth, however, I was almost certain that I knew the answer to the next question. “Do they have names?”

  “Ashley and Megan . . . Brody.” Sam frowned. “Were you expecting them?”

  “Of course not. Otherwise I’d have been here.” I peered around him into the living room. It was empty. “What did you do with them?”

  “When they found out you were expected back shortly, they informed me that they would wait for your return. I offered them something to drink. They declined. I attempted to make conversation. They were not impressed. Apparently whatever was scrolling across the screens of their phones was more interesting than I was.” Sam sounded pained by the realization.

  I had to bite my lip not to smile at his wounded expression. “Don’t worry, honey. You haven’t lost your touch. Those two are just too young to appreciate your charms. Megan and Ashley are eighteen. Barely past jail bait.”

  Sam shook his head. “At that age, they should be old enough to know that when you’re a guest in someone else’s house, you don’t get to dictate what happens next.”

  “Don’t take it personally. The whole Brody family acts like that. As if they’re the stars of every occasion and we’re just bit players hovering in the background. So . . .” I was still curious. “What did happen next?”

  “They parked themselves out on the deck to wait. Feet up, phones out, they looked perfectly happy so I left them to their own devices.”

  “Excellent pun,” I said with a grin.

  Sam acknowledged my smile with one of his own. “Bud’s in my office with Kevin, but the Poodles elected to keep the girls company outside. It’s been twenty minutes and I haven’t heard a peep, so I assume they’re still doing okay.”

  I looked down at Faith, who wagged her tail happily. “You would know. Is everything all right out there?”

  I fully expected Faith to answer in the affirmative. Instead her tail abruptly stopped moving. All at once, she looked concerned. That wasn’t good.

  Sam went back to his office. The two Poodles and I hurried out to the deck to see what was up. Faith had warned me. Even so, the sight that greeted me when I walked outside was unexpected. And not in a good way.

  Both twins had their backs to me as I came through the door. Dressed in a midriff-baring top and a miniscule pair of denim cut-offs, Megan Brody was lying stretched out on a chaise. She’d kicked off her shoes and her long, slender legs were extended out in front of her for maximum exposure to the sun. Since she was busy with her phone, it took her a minute to register my arrival.

  Her sister, Ashley, sat beside her on a matching chaise. She’d obviously encouraged Augie to jump up beside her—something he knew better than to do without an invitation—because the big black Poodle lay draped across her lap. For some reason, Ashley had taken it upon herself to dig her fingers into the dog’s coat and pop out the rows of tiny rubber bands that held his long topknot hair in place. Even worse, she was now in the process of replacing the neat, ordered ponytails with what appeared to be cornrows.

  Raven and Tar were sitting nearby, observing this unprecedented event with matching expressions of misgiving. Faith and Eve looked plainly horrified. No wonder they’d come to get me as soon as I returned home.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I said. As greetings went, it wasn’t my best moment.

  Ashley looked up. So did Augie. His tail began to wave slowly back and forth. He was delighted to see me. And why not? He wasn’t the one in trouble.

  “Good, you’re back,” Megan said. “It’s about time.”

  “I can see that.” I nailed Ashley with a glare. “What are you doing to my dog?”

  “Making improvements.” The little twit smiled as if she actually believed what she was saying. “Ponytails are so unoriginal. Braids look much better, especially for a black dog. Don’t you think?”

  “No, I do not.”

  I looked at Augie and patted my thigh sharply. Immediately the Poodle pulled away from Ashley, hopped down from his perch, and trotted to my side. As soon as he began to move, a huge hank of loose hair fell forward over his face. The long strands covered his eyes and tangled in his mouth.

  I smoothed the topknot hair back the moment he reached me, but without proper banding it wouldn’t stay that way for long. The sheer audacity of what Ashley had done was astounding. I had to struggle to control my temper. Luckily I didn’t see any black hair lying on the deck. Because if her antics had cost Augie any of his precious topknot hair, I was going to kick her boney little butt.

  “I don’t know why you’re mad.” Ashley’s voice edged toward a whine. “You weren’t here and I got bored.”

  “I wasn’t here,” I said between gritted teeth, “because I didn’t know you were coming.”

  The two sisters traded a glance. “It was, like, a spur-of-the-moment decision.”

  “Hold on one minute,” I told them. “I’ll be right back.” I cupped my hand around Augie’s muzzle and led him across the deck to the kitchen door. “Sam? Can I have a little help?”

  Sam came around the corner from his office and took in the situation in a glance. He strode over, and his hand replaced mine around Augie’s muzzle. He was shaking his head as he led the Standard Poodle toward the small room off the kitchen where we did our grooming.

  When I turned back to the twins, Megan had swung her legs to the ground and sat up. “Sorry about that.” The words were offered so readily I figured she probably made a habit of apologizing for her twin. “Ash didn’t mean to do anything wrong. Besides, it’s only dog hair.”

  “Yeah,” Ashley chimed in. “And considering how crazy the rest of him looks, I figured you probably needed my help. It’s not as if I could have made that dog look any worse.”

  I thought about explaining the origin of the Poodle’s highly styled continental clip. I could tell them that it had been developed in Germany more than a century earlier to serve as a practical hunting trim. Its design was meant to keep Standard Poodles comfortable when they did the work they’d originally been bred to do—retrieving game in cold water. But then I realized two things. The twins probably wouldn’t care. And I really had no desire to try and
educate them.

  Instead I said, “Why are you girls here?”

  “We heard that you were talking to everyone in the family,” Megan replied. “Trace said you’d been by his house, and Graham told us the same thing. So we figured we’d save you a trip.”

  It was true that I’d been making the rounds—but of Leo Brody’s children, not his grandchildren. Libby had directed me toward her siblings and I’d followed her lead. The only reason I’d met Trace and Nelson was because I’d been there to talk to their mother.

  But if fate was going to hand me lemons, I might as well make lemonade.

  “Excellent.” I pulled a chair over beside the two chaise longues and sat down. “What do you want to tell me?”

  “Um . . . about that.” Ashley paused and looked at her sister.

  “The thing is, we heard that you’re asking questions about Leo’s death,” Megan said. “So we came to tell you that we don’t know anything because, you know . . . why would we?”

  “Maybe because you were there when it happened?” I said.

  “That’s a lie!” Ashley’s shoulders stiffened in outrage. “Megan and I were not there. What a horrible thing to say. Isn’t that, like, libel or something?”

  Or something, I thought. Maybe she should talk to Becca. The two of them could discuss legal technicalities. Or maybe just their mutual dislike for me.

  “But I saw you,” I pointed out. “I was at Puppy Fest too. We were all together in the salon for a while. Don’t you remember?”

  “Oh.” Ashley slumped back. “At Puppy Fest. Yeah, we went to that.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “I thought you meant”—the girl waved a hand vaguely—“you know, there there.”

  Megan just looked at her sister and sighed. I felt the same way.

  “If you want to talk to people who were at Puppy Fest,” she said. “You should go see Aunt Jane.”

  “How come?”

  “Well, you know. She was there too.”

  “In the salon,” I clarified.

  The two girls exchanged another look. Silent twin-speak.

  “She was in the salon sometimes,” Megan said.

  Okay, that was interesting. “Where was Jane the rest of the time?”

  Ashley shrugged. “How would we know? It’s not like we followed her around.”

  “But there’s something else.” Megan’s voice dropped to just above a whisper. “I don’t know if I should tell you this or not.”

  “Sure you should.” As if there were any doubt.

  “Aunt Jane likes to bake. She brought cookies to Puppy Fest.”

  “She did?”

  Both twins nodded together. They looked like a matching set of bobblehead dolls.

  “How do you know that?” I asked.

  “Aunt Jane always brings cookies whenever the family gets together.” Ashley rolled her eyes. “It’s like her thing. There was a plate of cookies in the ballroom. She had to be the one that brought them. Because she always does.”

  I hadn’t even noticed. I wondered whether Detective Young had been informed of Jane’s “thing.” Most likely he had—and then dismissed its relevance along with the other bits of information he’d gathered.

  “What kind of cookies were they?” I asked.

  The question made Megan laugh. “Do we look like we would know? I haven’t had a cookie since I was, like, ten.”

  “The last time anything with sugar crossed my lips, I was eight.” Ashley looked smug. As if abstinence were a competition and she’d won.

  Megan stood up. Her sister followed suit. “So anyway, we just thought you should know.”

  I waited until Megan had slipped on her shoes and Ashley had tugged her tiny shorts down into place, then led the two sisters around the house. There was a gate in the fence near the driveway. As we walked through it, I said, “Thanks for stopping by. Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

  “No, but we were happy to save you a trip,” Ashley said brightly.

  That was the second time one of the twins had used that particular phrase. I wondered why. Color me skeptical, but the Brody sisters didn’t strike me as the helpful sort.

  “So now that you’ve seen us, you don’t have to bother talking to our dad,” Megan told me. “He’s out of town anyway. And besides, he told us that you guys already met.”

  I knew that their father was Fred’s younger brother, Ron. One of the three children born to Leo Brody’s first wife. But if he and I had already met, I wasn’t aware of it.

  “We did?”

  Ashley nodded. She looked at her sister and the two of them began to giggle as if they were sharing a private joke. Arm in arm, the pair sauntered down the driveway. They’d gone halfway when Ashley looked back over her shoulder and snickered.

  “It was at Puppy Fest. Dad said he told you where to go.”

  Then I got it. Ron was the man who’d directed me to the ballroom when I’d first arrived.

  “Hey!” I waited until they’d paused and turned, then said, “It’s not the first time someone’s done that.”

  The twins didn’t look impressed. I couldn’t blame them. That had sounded a lot cleverer in my head.

  So Megan and Ashley didn’t want me to talk to their father, I mused. That was interesting. I wondered where Ron had gone so soon after Leo Brody’s death. And how long it would be until he returned.

  Chapter 20

  Tuesday felt like a long day. Wednesday didn’t start out a whole lot better.

  For starters, Sam left very early that morning on a two-day business trip. It was just after 6 A.M. when I kissed him on the lips and pushed him out the door. The boys were still asleep upstairs. Even the three Poodles who’d come down with me to say good-bye looked groggy.

  By seven, everyone was awake and I had breakfast on the table. By eight, the boys were dressed and fed, the dogs had been exercised, and I had Davey’s camp supplies lined up next to the door. At eight-thirty, Kevin and I were on our way to drop Davey off at camp. After that, we were going to Westchester County to meet with Leo Brody’s oldest child, Nancy, at her farm in North Salem. I felt as though I’d already put in an entire day’s work.

  That brought back memories. For most of Davey’s early life, I had been a single mom. Now I found myself remembering how hard that was and wondering how I’d ever managed.

  Not easily, that’s for sure.

  Davey, two months away from his thirteenth birthday and almost as tall as I was, was sitting beside me in the front of the car. Kev sat behind us in his car seat. He leaned over, unzipped the backpack Davey had tossed on the seat beside him, and pulled out a shin guard.

  Kevin had seen his brother’s shin guards numerous times. He’d even tried them on. But now he held the piece of equipment up to the light and examined it as if it was a rare and precious artifact.

  “I want to go to camp too,” he announced.

  “You can’t,” Davey said flatly. “You’re too little.”

  In the mirror, I saw Kev’s lower lip begin to quiver. I shot Davey a look. Was that really necessary?

  “What?” Davey protested. “He is.”

  “I don’t want to be little!” Kevin’s voice broke on a wail.

  I looked across the front seat. “Now look what you’ve done.”

  “Sheesh,” Davey muttered. “How did this get to be my fault?” He turned around and addressed Kev. “The good thing about being your age is that you get to stay home all day.”

  “Don’t wanna stay home.” The wailing had stopped, but Kevin had managed to push out his lower lip in an impressive pout.

  “If you’re away all day and I’m away all day, who’s going to play with Bud?”

  Kevin thought about that. He didn’t appear to have an answer.

  “Having your own dog is a big responsibility,” Davey said seriously.

  I was impressed. Davey was taking a page from Aunt Peg’s playbook. Who knew he’d even been listening to all those
lectures we’d given him over the years?

  “What if Bud gets hungry or he needs to go outside? Who’s going to take care of him if you’re not there?”

  It was a good thing Kevin was only three. Any older and he’d be able to figure out the answers to those questions pretty easily. Now, however, he was nodding solemnly. Then all at once, he brightened.

  “Faith will help Bud,” Kev said happily. “She knows everything.”

  Davey spun back around in his seat. “I tried. Now he’s all yours.”

  I’d turned in the camp driveway a minute earlier and we were reaching the head of the drop-off line. Without thinking, I leaned over to give Davey a kiss. He shrank back in horror.

  “Mom!”

  “Oh yeah. Right.” I straightened in my seat. A display of affection in front of the other kids was nothing short of mortifying. “Don’t forget your shin guard!” I called as he scrambled hastily out of the car.

  The back door opened. Davey swept up his gear. Then the door slammed again and he was gone.

  I pulled out of line and headed out.

  “Having a dog is a big ’sponsibility,” Kev told me happily from the back seat.

  I loved this age. That kid learned something new every day.

  * * *

  Despite being in a different state, North Salem wasn’t far from North Stamford as the crow flies. Of course, Kev and I were making the trip by car. That took a bit longer.

  Though situated only fifty miles from New York City, North Salem still retains aspects of its rural roots. The town is small and picturesque. Acres of open land create a quiet, pastoral atmosphere. On the way to our destination, Kevin and I meandered down several winding country roads, passing by fields populated by horses and cows.

  When we came to the final turn Nancy had instructed me to take, there was no street sign on the corner. Instead, the single-lane road was simply marked PRIVATE. I nudged the Volvo between the two low stone walls that bordered either side of the narrow lane. As I slowed my speed, I turned in my seat to look at Kevin.

  “We’re almost there,” I told him.

  “Almost there,” he parroted back. “Going to camp.”

  “Not camp,” I said firmly. “We’re visiting friends again.”