That was what getting up and starting the day before dawn did to a person, I told myself. But secretly I was hoping there was another reason for my lack of energy. It had been so long since I’d been pregnant with Davey that I didn’t remember what I’d felt like then. Nor did I have any idea whether I should expect to feel the same now. On the other hand, there was also the distinct possibility that it was all just wishful thinking on my part.
But whatever malaise was dragging me down, it was enough to make me spend much of the evening in a lounge chair on the deck, watching the bulk of the festivities from the sidelines. After a while, Sam came over and sat down on the end of the chaise.
I moved my legs to make room for him. His hand drifted down onto my knee, fingers moving over the warm skin absently. I loved that part about being married: the touching that was just that easy and comfortable.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”
“Want me to bring you something to eat?”
I’d nibbled around the edges of a hamburger earlier, but passed up corn on the cob and potato salad. Now Frank and Bertie were serving up a watermelon. It looked cool, and pink, and juicy, but I couldn’t seem to work up any desire to have a slice.
“No thanks, I’m fine. Really.”
“You’re sure? You didn’t eat much dinner.”
I hadn’t realized he’d been watching. Another benefit to being married: when it came to my well-being, Sam didn’t miss much. After years of looking out for myself and Davey, it was nice to have someone looking after me for a change.
“I’m just not hungry.”
“You? Not hungry? That must be . . .” He started to grin, then abruptly the words died in his throat and his expression shifted. His eyes dropped to the region of my stomach, then came back up. “Anything you want to tell me?”
“Not yet,” I said softly. “At the moment, I’m still in the hopeful stage. As soon as I know for sure . . .”
“When?” Sam tried not to sound impatient; he didn’t entirely succeed.
I’d already read the instructions on the pregnancy kit and done the calculations. “Soon. Just give me a couple more days.”
“Anything you want.” His hand was still resting on my knee. He squeezed gently before pulling it away.
“A girl,” I said, “with your eyes and your smile.”
He stood and looked down at me. “I’ll do my best.”
Sam went back to our guests who were, for once, on their best behavior. By some unspoken agreement, no one tried to make me eat dessert or help clean up. They didn’t drag me over to join in the games of croquet or frisbee football that sprang up after dinner.
Even Aunt Peg refrained from badgering me about the latest scoop on the contest. Sam must have filled her in and she’d decided that getting her information secondhand was good enough.
Faith never left my side all night. And when the rest of the Poodles grew tired of running around the yard, they came and flopped in a semicircle around my chair. It was a little like having my own canine honor guard and I appreciated their quiet company.
The sun finally began to dip low in the sky. Bertie lit the scented candles we had scattered around the deck. Frank turned on the bug-zapper. Clutching her stuffed dog to her chest, Maggie fell asleep in her baby seat. Davey was looking ready for bed himself.
As Sam helped Frank and Bertie load a mound of baby essentials and leftover food into their car, Davey scrambled up into the tree house. Aunt Peg had brought an American flag to decorate his new outdoor abode. Now as she supervised from the ground, the two of them debated where it could be hung to best effect.
While that was going on, Bob strolled over to say goodnight.
Over the previous decade, Bob’s and my relationship had been as tumultuous as a roller-coaster ride. We’d been in love, and we’d been close to hating one another. We’d lived together for several years, then been apart and not speaking for more time than that.
Recently we’d finally reached a stage of equanimity. Bob wasn’t just my ex-husband and Davey’s father. He was a real friend now, and the relationship that had evolved had come as a bit of a surprise to both of us.
Like Sam, he sat down on the end of the lounger. Unlike my husband, Bob was careful not to sit too close. His expression when he looked at me was equal parts gratified and wistful.
“Congratulations,” he said softly. “I know how much you’ve wanted this.”
I pushed myself forward and sat up straight. “Wanted what?”
“A new baby. A little brother or sister for Davey.”
“Not so fast,” I said. “We’re trying, that’s all. Nobody’s sure that anything’s been accomplished yet.”
“It has.”
The certainty in his tone made me pause. I tipped my head to one side thoughtfully. “What makes you say that?”
“I was there the first time, remember? You have just the same look . . . the same glow.”
I shook my head in automatic denial even as I felt my heart leap with hope. Might Bob know something I didn’t? Could he possibly be right?
My hand lifted to my face. I touched my cheek, half-expecting to feel heat. When I didn’t, I felt silly.
“I’m not glowing,” I said.
“You are.” Again the same certain tone. Bob’s gaze drifted past me to the people in the yard. The sound of Davey’s laughter floated to us on the breeze. “You did a great job first time around. You’ll be a wonderful mother now too.”
“How would you know? You weren’t there.”
The words, motivated by the fear that he might be getting my hopes up for nothing, came out before I could stop them. They were unworthy of both of us.
“My loss,” said Bob. I was happy he hadn’t taken offense. “Sam won’t make the same mistake.”
No, he wouldn’t, I thought. Our child would be surrounded by all the love and security that two adoring parents and an older brother could provide.
“Does he know yet?” asked Bob.
I smiled at that. “I don’t even know yet.”
“Trust me.” Bob’s hand found mine. He held my fingers firmly. “If you ever need anything . . .”
“An uncle? A baby-sitter? A godfather?”
“Name it,” he said. “I’m your man.”
“Funny thing about that,” said Sam, coming up beside us. “I thought I was her man.”
Bob stood. He held up both hands, palms out. “You won’t get any argument from me. I was just telling Melanie how lucky she is.”
I gazed up at Sam. My eyes found his in the dim light. “And I was telling him I knew that.”
I rose to join them and my stomach flipped. All at once I felt light-headed. Sam reached out a steadying hand but I didn’t notice. Right at that moment, my thoughts focused inward, I didn’t see a thing.
Holy moley, I thought with a sudden, incandescent rush of pure joy. Bob was right.
29
Not that I was about to say a word to anyone until I was absolutely sure. Like scientifically, medical evidence sure. Pee-on-a-stick sure. It was one thing for me to get my hopes up. But if I was wrong, I didn’t want Sam and Davey doing the same thing.
So I got on with my life as though nothing had changed. For the first time, I was actually happy to have a contest-related event to attend. At least it would serve as a distraction until enough time had passed and I could get the answer I was dying to have.
Better still, tomorrow’s press conference would be the end of the line as far as my finalist duties were concerned. When that final appearance was over, the competition would be, too. One lucky dog and owner would continue on to fame and fortune and my life could go back to normal. The prospect was almost enough to make me giddy.
Would Yoda’s name be the one announced as previously planned? Like Lisa, I wasn’t sure. So many elements of the contest had gotten derailed since the five finalists had been brought together for the opening reception, i
t wasn’t hard to imagine that the outcome might take an unexpected turn, too.
Before the final decision was announced to the press, however, I needed to corner Simone Dorsey and get some answers. Surely she had to realize that her manipulation of the results might have played a part in Larry Kim’s death.
I sincerely doubted that she would have passed information like that along to the police. Now, however, I was armed with enough knowledge to bluff her into opening up. That gave me an unexpected advantage and I intended to make use of it.
The press conference was scheduled to take place at the Champions Dog Food headquarters at four o’clock that afternoon. I imagined that that time had been chosen to draw news teams from the local affiliates so that they could report on the story live at five. I put in a call to Simone’s secretary and told her that Faith and I needed an appointment at three.
“I’ll have to see if she’s available,” the woman replied.
“Make her available. She won’t want to miss what I have to say.”
All right, so maybe that wasn’t strictly true. But the implication that I might have some vital information related to the contest was enough to get me a spot on Simone’s calendar. The fact that the information was more vital to my interests than hers was something we could discuss when I got there.
Since this was to be Faith’s last contest appearance, I went all out with her grooming. She’d looked good when we’d appeared on TV the day before, but now I was aiming for perfect. I didn’t expect my Poodle to win, but I did want the judging committee to experience at least a small pang of regret at passing her by.
I reclipped Faith’s face, her feet, and the base of her tail. I bathed her in the tub, then devoted two hours to blowing her hair dry, section by section, so that when I was done, her entire coat was straight and plush and full. Scissoring in the lines, I emphasized the length of the Poodle’s legs, the crest of her neck, and rounded off her topknot and the pom pon on her tail.
Sam and Davey had borrowed Aunt Peg’s beach card and gone to Todd’s Point for the afternoon, so when Faith and I headed out, only the other Poodles were home to escort us to the door. Having spent more time on Faith’s appearance than I had on my own, I paused in front of the hallway mirror and took a quick look to make sure that my hair was combed and my shirt was clean. The reflection I saw in the mirror looked pretty much as I expected.
Nope, I thought critically as I examined myself from several perspectives, if anything was glowing, I didn’t see it.
Faith and I arrived at Champions with time to spare. My Poodle would have preferred that we take the stairs, but I wasn’t ready to face them again just yet. Instead, we rode the elevator up to the third floor.
Even though we were a few minutes early, Simone didn’t keep us waiting long. Promptly at three, the PR director opened her office door and stood expectantly in the doorway. I wondered whether she’d actually been working or whether she’d been sitting inside watching the clock until it was time.
“You wanted to see me?” she said.
I filed that under “R” for rhetorical and walked past her into the small room. Simone outranked Cindy Burrows and probably Chris Hovick, too, but her office wasn’t any more impressive in size or decor. Idly I wondered if that rankled. If it was one of the reasons that she might not have seen anything wrong in diverting company funds in a friend’s direction.
“Well?” Simone said, in her best get-on-with-it tone. “What’s this all about?”
I helped myself to a seat. The chair looked like it had been designed by Le Corbousier. It was small and uncomfortable, but at least it made me sit up straight.
“I drove Lisa home from New York yesterday,” I said.
“So I gathered.” Simone didn’t sound pleased. She walked around behind her desk and sat down. “I’d have been happy to bring her back myself, but once you swooped in like the Lone Ranger and spirited her away, I figured she’d made other arrangements.”
“She did. We had a long talk on the way.”
Simone lifted a brow disdainfully. Obviously she didn’t feel threatened by anything her friend might have told me. I wondered if she’d spoken with Lisa since. I was betting no. Judging by her past behavior, Yoda’s owner seemed to want to avoid confrontation.
“Lisa told me how you had set up the contest so that she and Yoda would win.”
“That’s ridiculous. I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do. I know that you and Lisa are old friends. That the two of you went to college together.”
Simone looked briefly startled, then her expression turned bland again. I’d managed to get her attention though. Good.
“So?” she said.
“So she needed to find a way out of an unhappy marriage and you offered to help.”
“Naturally I offered emotional support. A bit of advice, a shoulder to cry on. That’s what friends are for.”
“You offered more than that. You offered a contest, specially engineered with her in mind. Nationwide publicity, thousands of entries, good PR out the wazoo, all of that controlled by a small committee of handpicked people who would select the winner. Yoda would end up being the spokesdog for Champions’ newest product and Lisa would gain a new direction in life, not to mention the financial security she needed to leave her husband.”
“That’s an interesting story,” Simone said evenly. “But that’s all it is, a piece of fiction. It’s not what happened.”
Time was passing and we weren’t getting anywhere. I needed to shock Simone out of her complacency.
“What happened next was all your fault,” I said. “The plan that you and Lisa made resulted in Larry Kim’s death. What went wrong, Simone? Did you begin to get nervous when he nearly took his dog and walked out of that first meeting? That would have ruined everything, wouldn’t it? Were you the one I heard arguing with him that day in the stairwell? Did he make you so angry that you reached out and gave him a shove?”
“No, of course not!” Simone had picked up a paper clip from her blotter. She twisted and untwisted the small piece of metal between her fingers. “I wasn’t anywhere near Larry when he fell. It was up to Lisa to make sure that Yoda remained a contestant. I didn’t have anything to do with that.”
“But you admit that you and she had cooked up a scheme—”
“I’m not admitting anything. Why should I?”
“Well for one thing,” I said, “if you don’t, I’ll take my information to the police. I hear they’re having a hard time narrowing down their list of suspects. This ought to help them sort things out, don’t you think?”
“Wait!”
I’d started to rise, but now I paused. Faith, who’d stood when I did, stopped, too. Faster than most humans at picking up on nuances, she looked back and forth between us, waiting to see who was going to cave in first. Thankfully, the answer was Simone.
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” she said. “Especially now, when we’re just about to announce the winner of the contest. That’s the last kind of publicity Champions needs. I’m sure you and I can discuss this between ourselves and come up with an equitable solution.”
“Like what?” I asked. Just my luck, she was probably thinking of offering Faith the top prize in exchange for my silence.
“Let me think,” Simone said. “And in the meantime, you should do some thinking too. I hope you realize that you have nothing to gain by exposing the contest to undue scrutiny.”
“I disagree. Exposing irregularities in the contest judging will help the police find Larry’s murderer.”
“Oh please. Surely you don’t want me to believe you’re doing this to be helpful.” She stared at me across the width of her desk. “Did you even know Larry Kim?”
“No. We met for the first time at the opening reception.”
“You wouldn’t have liked him.”
As if that made it all right that he’d been murdered?
“Does that
matter?” I asked.
“Of course it matters,” Simone snapped. “Lisa never should have married Larry. He was all wrong for her. I told her at the time but she wouldn’t listen. She thought she knew better.”
“It was her life. Right or wrong, Lisa had a right to make her own decisions.”
“Not when she was going to come running to me after the fact to clean up the mess she’d made of things. It was just pure luck that Chris had already come to me with the idea—”
Simone stopped speaking so abruptly that it was like putting an exclamation point on what she’d left unsaid. I sank back down slowly into my seat.
“Chris came up with the idea for the contest?” Quickly I filled in some blanks and rearranged the pieces of the puzzle to fit. “That’s interesting. I was sure I’d heard that you were the one who deserved the credit for that.”
“Not entirely.” Simone gave a careless shrug. She couldn’t quite pull it off. “It was more of a joint effort. You know, colleagues brainstorming for the good of the company.”
“Except that Chris thought of it first.”
Simone, I noted, didn’t refute the assertion a second time.
“There were four of you on the judging committee,” I said after a minute. “Lisa had your vote, we know that. Who else had you gotten to agree to your plan?”
“Yoda was the best candidate for the position. He’d have drawn votes from the other judges even without my support.”
“Maybe, maybe not. After all, Cindy prefers big dogs and lately she’s been spending her own downtime hanging around with Ben O’Donnell. Then there’s Chris, who got his pet Scottie from Dorothy Foyle. So I’m assuming that Doug must have been your ace in the hole.”
“Doug’s my boss. Why would he do anything just because I asked him to . . . ?” Abruptly Simone went still. “Wait a minute! Cindy’s been seeing Ben?”
“Yup.”
“That stupid girl. What the hell is she thinking?”
“Maybe the same thing you’re thinking when you’re with Doug.”
Simone started to speak. Then she stopped and sighed. “Shit. Is there anything you don’t know?”
Chow Down Page 24
