Hot Dog

by Laurien Berenson

  “I don’t know,” I said again. It was depressing the number of answers I didn’t have. “Davey and I were gone for almost two hours. Maybe you watched us leave. That would have given you enough time to take Dox, stash him somewhere else, come back and pretend to rescue the Poodles.”

  Even to me, the theory sounded like a stretch. Which was a shame, because right about then I was looking for someone convenient to blame for all the recent turmoil in my life, and Jill was awfully handy.

  After a moment, I sighed and blew out a breath. “All right, scratch that. You got here between ten-thirty and eleven. Did you see anything unusual?”

  “You mean aside from the fact that there were two big, black hairy Poodles running around outside your house?”

  I supposed I deserved the snippy tone. “Yes. Aside from that.”

  She shook her head. “ Whoever was in here must have been gone by the time I arrived. All I saw were your two dogs outside by themselves. That seemed pretty strange to me because I didn’t think you’d be that careless. So right away I began to wonder if maybe something was wrong.”

  She would, I thought. It was just the way her mind worked. And probably mine as well, I admitted grudgingly.

  “What did you do then?”

  “I got out of my car, walked up to your house, and rang the doorbell. When nobody answered, I looked in the window.”

  There wasn’t much I could say to that. I’d have done the same thing myself.

  “Then I rounded up the dogs, which took a while. They’re not very well trained, you know. A little basic obedience would work wonders for those two.”

  Faith lifted her head. I think she knew she’d just been insulted. Actually my Poodles were quite well trained. They just didn’t take commands from strangers.

  “It turns out your puppy likes Egg McMuffins.” Jill looked quite pleased with her ingenuity. “I had one with me that was supposed to be my breakfast, but I ended up using it as a bribe. Once I got hold of the puppy, the other dog gave up and came along too. After I had both of them stashed in the car, I called Rich.”

  “I grabbed my stuff and got over here as soon as I could.” He picked up the story. “We were both worried about you. I was thinking we might have to break into the house to make sure you were all right.”

  Much as I could fault Jill for her macabre brand of enthusiasm, it sounded as though their intentions had been good. Not only that, but Jill had gone out of her way to catch my dogs and put them in a safe place, even donating her breakfast to the cause in the process. If nothing else, I had to be intensely grateful for that.

  “Now it’s my turn to ask questions,” she said eagerly. “Tell me about the missing puppy. Is he some kind of super show dog or something?”

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” I replied. “But no. Dox might be a show dog someday, but right now he’s only a baby. He won’t even be eligible for the show ring for another several months.”

  “Then why take that dog?” Rich asked. “Why not one of the others? Why not all three?”

  The first answer that came to mind was that whoever had broken in had been specifically looking for Dox. If that was the case, I was placing my bet on the culprit being one or the other of the battling Firths. I had no intention, however, of telling their story to KZBN Cable News. So I offered a couple other possibilities.

  “Maybe whoever was here couldn’t catch the Poodles,” I said, thinking out loud. “Jill saw for herself that’s not easy to do when I’m not around. Or maybe they were intimidated by the bigger dogs. Could be they simply thought the little Dachshund was cute. For Pete’s sake, he was sitting right there in a crate, I might as well have packaged him to go.”

  “Do you think they took anything else?” Jill asked.

  “Not that I’ve noticed so far.” My gaze swept around the room. “There’s not much in here to steal.”

  “TV and VCR,” Rich pointed out. “Most burglars would rather have that than a puppy.”

  All too true. But then, why should I expect to be robbed by normal burglars? Was there ever anything in my life that proceeded along even remotely normal lines?

  Jill’s pad was still open, though she hadn’t written anything for a few minutes. “What will you do now?”

  “Talk to the police, for one thing. Tell the people whom I was keeping the puppy for that he’s gone.”

  “What are their names?” she asked. “Maybe I should talk to them, too.”

  “You shouldn’t.”

  “You don’t know that. Maybe they want us to run a picture of the missing puppy on the news. Maybe they have videos—”

  “Maybe you’re dreaming,” said Rich, sounding ready to wrap things up.

  My sentiments, exactly.

  Aunt Peg arrived while I was next door talking to my neighbor, Edna Silano. The tall wooden security fence around my backyard blocked its view from almost every direction, a fact which I was sure had not been lost on my intruder. The gate to the fence, however, was beside my garage on a little grassy strip of land between my house and the one next to it.

  Mrs. Silano was an older woman who’d been born in the mountains of Italy and now lived alone in the house she’d come to as a war bride just after World War II. In her years in the United States, she’d raised a family, buried a husband, forged a new life, and never traveled more than fifty miles from the little neighborhood where she’d originally settled with her G.I. sweetheart.

  Mrs. Silano was addicted to soap operas, trashy talk shows, national public radio, and looking out her front windows. I was sure there were days when the goings-on at my house added gray strands to her suspiciously dark hair. Which seemed to make her the perfect person to ask if she’d seen anything odd that morning. Unfortunately, Mrs. Silano had nothing to add to the little I already knew.

  “I’m so sorry to hear about your troubles,” she told me. Her voice was scratchy from years of smoking and still accented with the language of her youth. “But Sunday mornings I’m on my knees in church. I go over to St. Michael’s in Greenwich.”

  She leaned closer as if confiding a great secret. “They’re a little more progressive over there than some of the local parishes. At my age, I want to get the best information available, you know? Any new tips they have on getting into heaven, I figure I should take note.”

  Considering Mrs. Silano had been to confession more times in the previous month than I had in the last five years, I doubted she was going to have any trouble on that score. I thanked her for her time and walked back across the yard to my driveway, where Aunt Peg was just pulling in.

  She stepped out of her van and let her gaze sweep up and down imperiously. “I’m glad to see the house isn’t on fire.”

  “Did you expect it to be?”

  “Considering what little Davey told me, I thought I should be prepared for the worst.”

  Aunt Peg had made good time on the trip from Greenwich. Having dropped whatever she was doing to rush to my aid, she’d obviously expected to be confronted by severed limbs, mass mayhem, or aliens on the front lawn. You know, the usual stuff I get involved in.

  She was scowling by the time her eyes came to rest on me. “What on earth is so important that you needed to see me immediately, especially since you left my house no more than an hour ago?”

  “Someone broke into my house while Davey and I were with you. Dox is missing.”

  That got her attention. It probably made her feel better, too. “Faith and Eve?”

  “They’re both fine.” We headed inside. “Though they were left outside running loose in the neighborhood.”

  Aunt Peg stopped abruptly. “You mean Dox is still out there somewhere, and you just haven’t found him yet?”

  “No, Dox was crated.” I kept walking. “He couldn’t have gotten away. I’d left both Poodles loose in the house. I assume they slipped out the back door.”

  Out of habit, we headed for the kitchen. I would have offered to fix us a couple of sandwiches except that the c
old cuts I’d intended to buy were still at the supermarket. Which reminded me that I still hadn’t called to cancel my credit cards.

  “Tuna?” I suggested weakly. I figured there had to be at least a can or two in the cupboard.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Aunt Peg snapped. “We don’t need food. What we need is to figure out what’s going on around here. Pardon me for being blunt, but is everything in your life going haywire?”

  “Since you asked,” I said, equally blunt. “Pretty much so, yes.”

  “Tell me what’s happened since I saw you last.”

  Ten minutes of talking brought her up to speed. During that time, Eve and Faith wandered by to say hello. Davey dribbled through the kitchen with his basketball and got sent outside. And Aunt Peg helped herself to a kitchen chair and began to eat the tuna sandwiches I’d made because I didn’t have anything else to do with my hands.

  “George Firth,” she said when I was finished. “It had to be.”

  “Or Marian.”

  Aunt Peg shook her head. “Marian’s a dog person. She never would have left your Poodles at risk like that. While from what I’ve heard of George, he wouldn’t have given it a moment’s thought.”

  “Maybe the Poodles were turned loose as a diversion. Something to keep me busy so I wouldn’t have time to go looking for Dox right away. By the way, George left a message on my answering machine last night demanding that I give Dox back.”

  “There you go, then,” Aunt Peg said, as if that settled things to her satisfaction. “He must have decided to take matters into his own hands.”

  I wasn’t so sure. “Why would he? I’d told him that I thought the donation was a bad idea. As far as he knew, I might have been happy to return Dox to him. Whereas your friend Marian struck me as someone who’s not terribly patient, maybe just the kind of person who might be capable of doing something desperate.”

  Aunt Peg sat and thought for a minute. Her fingers drummed idly on the table. “Marian didn’t have to do anything desperate,” she said finally. “She had a plan.”

  Ah yes, the plan. Aunt Peg had mentioned it the other day.

  “I’m not saying it was a good plan.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Did it involve any felonious activities?”

  “Not that I’m aware of,” Peg said blithely.

  As if that were reassuring.

  I dumped our empty plates in the sink and rejoined her at the table. There didn’t seem to be anything else to do.

  “You might as well tell me about it,” I said.

  19

  “You needn’t look so huffy,” Aunt Peg said sharply.

  “It’s not as if I was expecting something like this to happen. Marian’s plan was quite innocent and really rather clever.”

  “Did it have anything to do with her wanting to reconcile with George?”

  “Not at all.” Aunt Peg looked surprised. “What would make you think that?”

  “When I saw George yesterday, he seemed to be under the impression that she wanted him back.”

  “Oh, pish,” said Peg. “That’s nothing but George’s ego speaking. Marian is better off without him and she knows it. Since their separation, he has apparently filled his need for female companionship by dating several acquaintances of Marian’s, women he already knew, through her, during the course of his marriage. The divorce rate being as high as it is, and single women always seeming to outnumber single men . . .”

  I pictured the luxurious condominium and hazarded a guess. “Good old George is probably doing pretty well for himself.”

  “Just so. As you might imagine, Marian has not been exactly thrilled by this turn of events. Recently, however, she came up with a way to make the situation work to her advantage. George’s current lady friend is a woman named Lynda French, another friend of Marian’s who is also recently divorced. She and Marian are in firm agreement that neither one’s relationship with George will be allowed to break up their friendship.”

  “Good for them.” I thought I had a pretty good idea where she was going. “Is Lynda a dog lover, by any chance?”

  Aunt Peg nodded as though that was a given. Perhaps in her world it was.

  “Marian’s plan is really very simple and it hinges on George getting Dox back. Once that happens, Lynda is going to arrange to see the puppy and fall head over heels in love. George, Marian thinks, will be persuaded to give Dox to Lynda as a present. She, of course, will then be happy to pass the puppy back to Marian.”

  I lifted a brow. “And they think George will fall for that?”

  “George doesn’t have to fall for anything. He only has to close his eyes and cooperate. Men have been willing to “fall for” things for centuries where a pretty woman is concerned.”

  Sad, but true. Not only that, but we all knew that George didn’t want Dox. He’d tried to get rid of the puppy once; there was probably no reason to think he wouldn’t jump at the chance to do so again.

  “However,” Aunt Peg continued, “just because George and Marian have been arguing over Dox doesn’t mean we should narrow our options. Perhaps neither one of them took him. You told me just this morning there was a possibility your wallet had been lifted by some disgruntled clients of Bertie’s. Maybe they were your mysterious visitors.”

  “To what end?” I asked. “Dox wouldn’t mean anything to them.”

  “How do you know?” Aunt Peg snorted. “Cute as he is, we have yet to come across anyone who thinks of that poor little puppy as anything other than a means to an end. In the Azarias’ case, I suppose we’re still talking about revenge. They are dog people, after all. Who better to think of taking a dog? On one level, it makes perfect sense.”

  Right. The dog level. Aunt Peg’s preferred context for almost any situation.

  I, however, had other ideas, including the one I’d tried out earlier. Perhaps I’d find a more receptive audience in Aunt Peg. “What about that reporter, Jill Prescott?”

  “What about her?”

  “She’s been following me around for days, hoping something horrible would happen that she could turn into a story for the evening news. Well now something has. Maybe it’s not as exciting as she was hoping for, but it’s better than nothing. She and Rich were here earlier asking questions and trying to shoot some footage. I have to say I found it awfully convenient that she just happened to be on the spot when the break-in occurred, yet somehow managed not to see a thing.”

  “I suppose we shouldn’t rule her out,” Aunt Peg agreed. “It’s a pity that woman thinks you’re going to be the one to earn her her fifteen minutes of fame.”

  “Jill isn’t looking for fifteen minutes. She wants a whole career. And she’s in a great tearing hurry to get started. It wouldn’t bother her one bit to get her big break at my expense.”

  “What do you suppose Jill Prescott would do with a Dachshund puppy?” Peg mused.

  “I haven’t a clue. She doesn’t strike me as someone who’s terribly savvy about dogs. Hopefully, if Jill does have Dox, she’ll keep him somewhere safe until we get this whole mess sorted out. Ditto for Jean and Mike. Also Marian and/or George. Beyond that, I’m pretty well stumped. So if you have any bright ideas about what to do next, feel free to speak up.”

  The last time Aunt Peg and I had needed to find a missing dog, she’d been brimming with good suggestions. My aunt thrived on problems like this. Surely she wouldn’t disappoint me.

  I held on to that thought—rather desperately—as the silence between us lengthened.

  “If Dox were simply lost,” she said finally. “I’d tell you to make flyers, offer a reward, call the local vets and obedience classes, and visit all the pounds in the area. But presumably whoever has the puppy took him on purpose and will take pains to keep him out of sight.”

  “Rather like Beau,” I mentioned, just in case her memory needed jogging.

  Beau was one of Aunt Peg’s champion Poodles. At one time, he’d been her premier stud dog, the kingpin of the Cedar Crest line.
Three years earlier, he’d been taken from her kennel in the middle of the night. The search we’d launched to find him had brought Aunt Peg and me together and ended up changing both our lives.

  “Quite so,” Aunt Peg said dryly. “However, as you may recall, it did take me more than ten minutes’ notice to devise a proper plan. Let me think about it. I’m sure between the two of us we’ll come up with something. Now in the meantime, about Sam . . .”

  The alacrity with which she changed subjects was enough to give a listener whiplash. What meantime? What about Sam? Wasn’t Dox the one we were supposed to be helping? And how was it that we were seemingly incapable of holding a conversation that didn’t include my one-time fiancé?

  “What does he think of this rather incredible run of bad luck you seem to be having?”

  “He doesn’t,” I said firmly. “We haven’t spoken about it.”

  “Whyever not?”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, there are a lot of things Sam and I don’t talk about.” Like why he’d felt it was all right to pick up and leave for five months in the midst of the wedding plans that I, his intended bride, had been making.

  “In case I haven’t noticed?” Aunt Peg repeated incredulously. “Everyone around you would have to be blind, deaf, and dumb not to notice that. You may not like what Sam did, but eventually you’re going to have to unbend enough to forgive him. You know how much he cares about you—”

  Somewhere in the front of the house the Poodles began to bark. The interruption was a godsend. When the front door banged open and shut and Davey came racing into the kitchen, I was already on my feet. His face was pink with excitement.

  “Hey, Mom, there’s a policeman outside! He came in a real patrol car and everything. He let me sit in the front seat and he even showed me the button that makes the siren work.” My son smiled blissfully. “Oh yeah, he wants to talk to you.”

  “Did you ask him to come inside?”

  “Why would he want to come in here when he can sit outside in his car?”

  Sometimes you just have to love the way a seven-year-old boy’s mind works. I hurried outside to remedy my son’s rudeness. Aunt Peg left while I was talking to Officer Collins, saving me from the rest of her lecture. Unfortunately, that was the only good that came of the officer’s visit. He took some notes, exhibited sympathy for my loss, and offered the name of a glass man who might be willing to come on Sunday, albeit at overtime rates.