Murder at the Puppy Fest

by Laurien Berenson

  Nancy’s eyes widened. It took her a minute to come up with a reply. “That’s rich,” she said finally. “And she sent you here because she thinks I might have had something to do with it?”

  “Libby asked me to talk to everyone in your family.”

  “The whole family?” Suddenly she sounded interested. “Who else have you seen?”

  “I’ve been making the rounds of all your siblings.”

  “Then I’m surprised it took you so long to get around to me.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because when you’re the oldest of nine children, everybody brings you their problems and their grievances. I was both the negotiator in the family and the keeper of secrets. So I’m used to being consulted when things go south. Old habits die hard, I guess.”

  “Is that why Libby approached you when she needed a loan?”

  “It’s one reason,” Nancy said. “I guess the other is because everybody thinks I’m a soft touch. Fred’s always telling me that I need to grow a backbone. Which is ironic because I’ve told him the same thing more than once.”

  The cat on the windowsill gave a languid stretch, then dropped to the floor. It cocked its head to one side and eyed me curiously. Any minute now, that tabby would be wrapping itself around my legs and meowing for attention. And then I would start to sneeze.

  “I’m surprised to hear that. Fred seemed pretty forceful to me when I talked to him.” I pushed my chair away from the table, adding an extra foot between me and the friendly feline.

  “That’s what he wanted you to think. That’s what he wants everybody to think. Fred Brody: brainiac, investment banker, the man with nerves of steel and a heart to match. I suppose he told you that he’s never married.”

  “No.” I thought back. Caroline had mentioned that. But not Fred. “He did talk quite a bit about your parents’ divorce though. He sounded like he was still bitter about it. Is that why he never married anyone himself?”

  Nancy laughed gently. “No, that whole mess is old news. Fred wants people to think that he never found a woman who could live up to his exacting standards. But the truth is he’s been secretly in love with someone for years . . . the one woman in the world that he can’t have.”

  “Fred confided in you about that?”

  “Worse,” she replied. “He came to me for advice. I’ve told him time and again that there’s nothing I can do. Fred had his chance with Cynthia twenty years ago and he blew it.”

  “Blew it how?” I asked curiously. “Where is Cynthia now?”

  “She’s married to our younger brother, Ron.”

  “Yikes,” I said, and Nancy laughed again.

  “I know, right? It seems like nothing’s ever easy in our family. Fred met Cynthia first, and they dated for nearly a year. When they broke up, Ron wasted no time in moving in on his brother’s ex.”

  I shook my head. “You make it sound as though it was a competition, with Cynthia as the prize.”

  “Back then, maybe it was. Ron and Fred are only a year apart in age, but that small difference meant that Fred got to do everything first. Ron spent our entire childhood trying to keep up with his older brother. Whatever Fred had, Ron always wanted too.”

  Sibling rivalry. I knew how that worked.

  “So Ron and Cynthia got married,” I said.

  Nancy nodded. “To hear Fred tell it, he’d already realized his mistake by then. But of course it was too late.”

  “Are Ron and Cynthia happily married?”

  “In the beginning, they certainly appeared to be a happy couple. And the twins came along pretty quickly. But over time—if you were looking—you could see cracks beginning to form. Now, all these years later, the marriage is pretty much over. Ron and Cynthia are leading separate lives, and their girls behave like wild things. I don’t even know who’s in charge in that house anymore. Maybe no one is.”

  The more I learned about the Brody family, the saner my own relatives began to appear. I savored that pleasant thought for a moment before moving on.

  “So Fred’s been pining over Cynthia for years,” I said. “Is the feeling mutual?”

  Nancy picked up a napkin that was lying on the table. Her fingers began to shred the delicate paper. “I gather there’s some reciprocal pining on her part. If I were to hazard a guess as to why her marriage stopped working.”

  “So?” I prompted.

  Nancy looked up. “So what?”

  “Am I the only one who thinks that a divorce might be in order?”

  “No, Fred would be in perfect agreement with you. And according to what he tells me, so would Cynthia.”

  “So what’s holding them back?”

  “Ron won’t give Cynthia a divorce. He won’t even discuss it.”

  “Even though he’s married to a woman who doesn’t love him anymore?”

  “That’s not the part Ron cares about.”

  It’s what I would care about, I thought.

  “Don’t tell me he’s still trying to thwart his older brother,” I said.

  “Thankfully, no. The problem was Leo Brody.”

  “Your father?”

  Nancy nodded. “Believe it or not, later in life he became vehemently opposed to the idea of divorce. Especially in a marriage where children would be affected.”

  I snorted incredulously. “That sounds like an epiphany that arrived conveniently after the fact.”

  “Doesn’t it? But my father had a way of turning things around in his own mind so that they made sense to him even if nobody else agreed. With regard to divorce, he told Ron that his children should be smart enough to learn from his mistakes. And when Leo Brody decided something, it was done. Nobody ever dared to contradict him or go against his wishes.”

  “Not even within the family?” I asked.

  “Especially not inside the family. We all knew how important it was to stay in his good graces. There was too much at stake to do otherwise.”

  I assumed we were talking about money. Then I gave myself a mental kick. Of course we were talking about the money.

  As we’d been speaking, the two cats had joined forces on the floor. A spirited game for possession of the ball had ensued. Then the toy had rolled beneath the refrigerator. There’d been some futile poking, followed by plaintive meowing, before the pair gave up. Now both cats were heading my way.

  Maybe I could just hold my breath for the next few minutes, I thought hopefully.

  But of course that didn’t work. I still had too many questions. “So Leo Brody’s death released Fred, Ron, and Cynthia from the hold he had over them. Now they’re free to do whatever they want.”

  “You got it. I expect we’ll see a shake-up in the family dynamics shortly.”

  The cats came slinking closer. I stood up and backed away. The thought of them winding their way around my legs made my neck itch.

  “I don’t get it,” I said to Nancy. “Why would you tell me all this stuff? Why betray your brothers’ confidence?”

  “Because I’m tired of being in the middle between the two of them. I never asked for that. In fact, I wish I didn’t even know about the whole sorry business. And besides . . .”

  Nancy stood up as well. We placed our mugs in the sink, then walked to the door. We were almost there when I sneezed violently. Once, and then a second time.

  “Sorry.” I gave her a bleary-eyed look. “Cats. And besides. . . ?”

  “Anything that points my dear sister Libby in a direction away from me is a plus. You’ll take this information back to her and she can put it to use in whatever manner she chooses.” Nancy pushed open the door and I walked out onto the stoop. “Were you paying attention, Melanie?”

  I was puzzled by the question. “Yes, of course—”

  “Then maybe you noticed something. We Brodys grew up knowing the importance of protecting ourselves. We learned early how to look out for number one. I shared my brothers’ secrets with you. But I didn’t divulge a single one of my own.”

&n
bsp; Well, crap. Before I could say another thing, Nancy stepped back. The door snicked shut between us.

  Across the yard, Kevin and Miranda were in the goat pen playing with the goats. I collected my son and buckled him into the car. Together we sang “Old MacDonald Had a Farm” all the way home.

  The song’s repetitive verses had one beneficial effect. They kept me from thinking about how neatly I’d been outmaneuvered.

  * * *

  Libby called while Kevin and I were waiting in the pickup line at Davey’s camp that afternoon.

  Just the person I wanted to talk to, I thought as I lifted the phone to my ear. Faith was in the back seat with Kev. The two of them could entertain each other while Libby and I chatted.

  The woman barely gave me a chance to say hello. “I hear you’re shaking things up,” she blared. “Good for you! That’s just what my family needs.”

  “Some of them wouldn’t agree with you,” I said.

  “That’s their problem.”

  Apparently empathy was not Libby’s strong suit.

  “I spent the morning with your sister, Nancy,” I told her. “Did you really convince her that a specials career was a good investment?”

  “Is that what she told you?”

  The answer to that was obvious to both of us.

  “Nancy thought you’d sent me to negotiate a settlement for the money you owe her,” I said.

  “That’s ridiculous. Nancy is delusional.”

  “She seemed pretty levelheaded to me.” Libby was using me for her own purposes. I didn’t see any reason why I couldn’t do the same. “Nancy told me a story about a Dalmatian named Cavalier. Is he your current stud dog?”

  “So what if he is? That spat you’re referring to is private business between Nancy and me. It has nothing to do with my father’s death.”

  “Unless one or the other of you was desperate for money,” I pointed out.

  “Well, that’s certainly not true.”

  “Is it?”

  “Of course,” Libby snapped. “How dare you insinuate anything else?”

  “Because that’s what you asked me to do,” I said mildly. “It’s not my fault if the trail you placed me on doubled back in your direction.”

  I inched the car forward and glanced over my shoulder to check on things in the back seat. Faith was sitting up. One of her front paws was resting in Kevin’s lap. He was playing “This Little Piggy” with her toes. Both appeared to be enjoying themselves.

  “Look,” Libby said. “My family isn’t like other families, okay? There are elements in our relationships that you don’t understand.”

  “Like what?”

  “Not that it’s something you need to know, but my mother didn’t get together with Leo Brody under the best of circumstances.”

  That was hardly news. And since I’d spent the last four days interviewing Libby’s siblings—some of whom had been seriously annoyed about her mandate to talk to me—you’d think it would have occurred to her that somebody had already spilled those beans.

  “Nancy resents me. She always has.” Libby’s voice quavered. “My mother took the place of hers and she’s never forgiven me for that. Imagine how it feels to be a child whose brothers and sister blame you for something that was totally beyond your control.”

  The explanation was clearly a plea for sympathy. I might have been more receptive if Libby hadn’t described her childhood to me as idyllic just last week at the dog show. Seriously. This wasn’t rocket science. Could nobody in the Brody family keep their stories straight for longer than the time it took to tell them?

  When I didn’t come back with the expected platitudes, Libby quickly changed tactics. “I’ll tell you who probably needed money. Becca Montague. What does that awful woman have to say for herself?”

  “That she and your father were in love.” I paused to let that sink in, then added, “And that they were engaged to be married.”

  Libby’s denial was swift and angry. “That’s absurd! Becca Montague is a liar. I bet she’s a murderer too.”

  “If you have proof of that, I’d love to hear it.” I moved the car forward again. We were finally nearing the front of the line.

  “Of course I don’t have any proof,” Libby snapped. “That’s supposed to be your job.”

  Right.

  “You told me that your father and Becca had been together for several months. Had you seen any recent signs that things weren’t going smoothly between them?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding. I didn’t need signs to know that Leo and Becca never should have gotten together in the first place. And what about Jane?” Libby demanded. “She was at Puppy Fest all day. Why haven’t you talked to her yet?”

  Because I have two kids, six dogs, and a husband and there are only twenty-four hours in a day, I thought.

  Aloud, I said, “Jane doesn’t like me.”

  Libby blew off my objection. “That doesn’t mean anything, Jane doesn’t like anybody. You can find her at Puppy Posse every day between eight and six.”

  As I put the phone away, the passenger door was yanked open. Davey came flying in. His backpack landed with a thud on the floor. A half-empty water bottle came loose and rolled beneath the seat. Davey’s clothes were dirty, his hair was disheveled, but he was grinning.

  “Daaaavey!” Kev squealed from the back seat.

  “Hey, squirt.” Davey twisted around as he did up his seat belt. “Did you have a good day?”

  “Great day,” Kev replied. “I played with goats.”

  Davey looked at me. “Do I want to know?”

  “Probably not.” I eased the car out of line and headed for the exit. “Pizza for dinner. How does that sound?”

  “Even better than goats,” Davey said.

  Chapter 22

  The pizza was a big hit. So was the fact that I let Kevin stay up past his bedtime playing games with Davey. There was an ulterior motive behind that benevolence. I’d be taking Kev with me when I headed down to Puppy Posse the following morning. It would help if he wasn’t his usual bundle of energy.

  The Poodles and Bud were eager to join in the games. Bud upset the checkerboard twice. The first time it ended up on the floor, we shooed Bud off the tabletop, restored the board, and secured it more carefully. Then the little dog returned with a rawhide bone that he’d found beneath the couch.

  Augie and Tar had their eyes on that enticing toy as soon as it appeared. They followed Bud across the room. When he dropped the bone in Davey’s lap, both male Poodles dove for it at the same time. So technically, the second time the checkerboard went flying, it was Davey’s fault.

  Not surprisingly, mayhem ensued. Eve and Raven had been lying quietly on the floor. Now they jumped up to join the fray. Tar grabbed the bone and bounced up onto the back of the couch. As he dared Augie to come and get it, Bud began to race in excited circles around the room.

  Faith and I watched the commotion from the sidelines. I don’t know about her, but I was too old for those kinds of shenanigans. She and I could pick up the pieces when everyone else was finished carrying on.

  My plan would have worked to perfection if only my still-drowsy son hadn’t fallen asleep in the car after we dropped Davey off at camp the next morning. He woke up from his catnap, cheerful and raring to go, when I pulled into the Puppy Posse parking lot.

  The rescue was housed in a nondescript brick building in a semi-industrial zone in south Stamford. Its lot was surrounded by a chain-link fence whose gate was held open by a piece of twisted wire. The drab edifice looked as though it might have belonged to a converted factory. The only cheerful aspect was colorful block lettering above the double glass doors, spelling out the Puppy Posse name.

  “Ugh,” Kevin pronounced from his car seat.

  Fortunately, our impressions changed as soon as we entered the building. The front door opened directly into a spacious, well-lit lobby whose walls were decorated with whimsical life-size murals of puppies and dogs. One side of the r
oom offered comfortable seating. The other had a low counter, behind which a young woman with a cheerful smile was waiting to greet us.

  I recognized her right away. It was Lucy, who’d been assisting Jane at Puppy Fest. “May I help you?” she asked politely.

  “Yes, I’m here to see Jane Brody. I’m Melanie Travis. We met at Puppy Fest, remember?”

  “Sure, I guess.”

  Lucy and I had spent a day working together amicably, so I wasn’t expecting such a lukewarm welcome. I wondered whether she’d observed the interactions between me and her boss and absorbed some of Jane’s hostility.

  “Do you have an appointment?” she asked.

  I loosened my grip on Kev’s hand. He trotted over to the nearest mural and examined it in fascination. “No, I don’t. Do I need one?”

  “Let me check. Please wait here.”

  Lucy exited through a door in the back wall. Before it closed, I caught a glimpse into the next room. A row of wire pens lined each wall, with a center aisle between them. Most of the pens appeared to be full, and more than a few of their occupants were barking.

  Then the door clicked shut and the din quieted once more. I went and joined Kevin beside a giant painting of a Saint Bernard. Everything about the portrait was lifelike, right down to the long skein of drool that hung from the dog’s mouth.

  Jane kept us waiting fifteen minutes before putting in an appearance. I suspected she was hoping that I would give up and leave, which only made me more determined to wait her out. In the meantime, I got Kevin settled in a chair with a Richard Scarry picture book. He loved the one about cars and trucks. With luck it would hold his attention until my business at Puppy Posse was finished.

  Kevin didn’t even look up when the door opened and Jane entered the room. To my surprise her brother, Joe, was with her.

  “Great place you have here,” I said.

  “Yes, it is,” Jane replied. “We all work hard to make it that way.”

  Joe stepped out from behind his sister. He strode across the room and placed his hands on my shoulders. His lips brushed my cheek. “Nice to see you again, Melanie. Don’t mind Jane. She’s feeling a little prickly today.”