Ruff Justice

by Laurien Berenson

  “Oh bother.” Aunt Peg frowned. “I wonder who that is? I’m not expecting anyone.”

  We got up and walked to the front hall where all six Standard Poodles were waiting for us impatiently. “Mind your manners,” Aunt Peg told them as she opened the door.

  The young woman standing on the porch looked familiar, though I couldn’t immediately place her. She had bland features and straight blond hair that was parted in the middle and hung halfway down her back. Her cropped pants were a loud floral print and her T-shirt had a picture of a Borzoi on it.

  The woman’s hand was raised to ring the doorbell again. Her fingers were long and delicate, and her nails were painted bright blue. Poised in the air between us, her hand appeared to be trembling.

  Her name was Abby Burke, I remembered suddenly. She was a young professional handler who specialized in hound breeds. We’d never been introduced but I’d seen her around the shows.

  Abby ignored the horde of big, black dogs who spilled through the open doorway and swarmed around her legs. She ignored me too. Instead she immediately zeroed in on Aunt Peg.

  “You have to help me,” she said.

  “Of course. What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Amanda.” The words were delivered in a breathless rush. “She’s missing.”

  Chapter 5

  “You’d better come inside,” said Aunt Peg.

  She took Abby’s arm, nudged the Poodles out of the way, and led the girl toward the living room. Now I knew things were serious. Aunt Peg never entertained in her living room. It was too far removed from the food.

  It was left to me to count canine noses and shut the front door. By the time I joined them, Abby and Aunt Peg were settled across from one another on a pair of matching love seats. Abby was perched on the edge of the cushion. Her fingers were twisting in her lap.

  Faith knew something was wrong. She came and pressed her body against my legs. Considering Aunt Peg’s response to Abby’s announcement, I was pretty worried myself, but I gave the Poodle a reassuring pat anyway. There was no use in all of us being on edge.

  “Who’s Amanda?” I asked.

  Abby turned to look at me. She seemed surprised to see me standing there. Maybe she was wondering who I was. Then she and Aunt Peg both answered at the same time.

  “My twin sister,” Abby told me.

  “My dog sitter,” Aunt Peg said.

  Okay, right. That Amanda.

  The Poodles were getting settled around us on the floor. I perched on the broad arm of a nearby upholstered chair. I knew that Aunt Peg’s travel schedule would have been impossible without the assistance of someone whom she could trust implicitly to take great care of the Poodles in her absence. And Amanda fit the bill perfectly.

  The young woman was capable, caring, and very well qualified, having been raised in a family as canine-centric as Aunt Peg’s. Before their retirement to Pinehurst, both of Amanda’s parents had been successful handlers and popular fixtures on the show circuit. Amanda had grown up training puppies, cleaning x-pens, and spending every weekend at the shows.

  As Aunt Peg’s emergency contact, I’d met Amanda once about a year earlier. Fortunately there had never been a reason for the dog sitter to get in touch with me since. I’d had no idea that Amanda had a twin sister. Nor that her sister was a member of the dog show community.

  Not unexpectedly, Aunt Peg wasn’t at all surprised by that information. “Tell me what’s happened,” she said calmly. “Why do you think Amanda is missing? I just talked to her.”

  Abby nearly bounced out of her seat. “When?”

  Aunt Peg thought back. “Just a few days ago. Probably Friday. I’ll be judging in Wisconsin next month and I wanted to confirm that she’d be available. Amanda said the dates I needed her would be fine.”

  “You see?” Abby said urgently. “That’s precisely the problem. Amanda wasn’t planning on going anywhere. And now she’s disappeared.”

  “What makes you think that?” I asked.

  “She and I were supposed to have dinner last night. She didn’t show up and she didn’t get in touch with me to cancel either.”

  “That doesn’t sound like Amanda.” Aunt Peg frowned. “She’s always been totally reliable.”

  “I know. Right?” Abby’s gaze flew back and forth between Aunt Peg and me. “Amanda’s predictable that way. She’s always right where she’s supposed to be. Last night I called her to see what was up, but she never called me back. I started to get worried, so I drove over to her apartment to check on her. Amanda’s car was sitting in the driveway, but she wasn’t there.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  “Yes, I have a key. I let myself in and had a look around. It’s a small place, just two rooms over a garage at a lady’s house in Weston. The apartment was empty. That doesn’t make sense. Where would Amanda have gone without her car?”

  “Did you ask the woman who owns the house if she’d seen her?” I asked.

  Abby swallowed heavily. “I would have but it wasn’t possible.”

  “Why not?” Aunt Peg wanted to know.

  “You were at the dog show yesterday, weren’t you?” Aunt Peg and I nodded together.

  “It was Jasmine Crane’s house. That’s where Amanda’s been living.”

  Oh. Oh wow. That got my attention in a hurry.

  Aunt Peg’s too. We shared a startled glance.

  First to speak, Aunt Peg merely said, “How did that come about?”

  “We’ve known Jasmine for a while,” Abby replied. “Back in the old days, our parents handled some of her dogs. Even then, I already knew that showing dogs was going to be my life. But Amanda, she couldn’t wait to get away.”

  “How come?” I asked.

  Abby shrugged. “All the shows we were dragged to when we were kids inspired me. But Amanda had the opposite reaction. They just made her determined to do something else. Anything else. She grabbed the first job she could get, and ended up selling clothes in the mall.”

  “It’s hard to live on that kind of salary in Fairfield County,” Aunt Peg mentioned.

  “Tell me about it,” said Abby. “Jasmine told Amanda she had a couple of rooms over her garage. She’d been using the space as a studio or something but now it was empty. If Amanda wanted to fix the place up, make it habitable, she could have it at a reduced rent. Amanda jumped at the chance.”

  “How long ago was that?” I asked.

  “Last year sometime?” Abby didn’t look certain. “She got her boyfriend to help out. The two of them put in a bathroom and added a little kitchen. She’s been living there ever since.”

  “What about the job at the mall?” I asked. “Does she still have it? Did you check with them to see if she showed up this morning?”

  “No, that’s long gone. Once Amanda moved into the apartment, she and Jasmine got to be friends. Pretty soon, Jasmine convinced Amanda that with her background and skills, she could make more money pet-sitting than she could selling dresses. And it turned out that she was right.”

  “Back to the boyfriend,” Aunt Peg interjected. “What does he have to say for himself?”

  “Rick was the first person I called. I figured if anyone would know where Amanda was, it would be him. He told me he hadn’t seen her since yesterday afternoon at the dog show. I guess she’d been there helping him.”

  “You guess?” I said.

  “She does that sometimes. Weird, huh? After Amanda was so determined to get away from the whole show scene, Rick Fanelli manages to convince her to come back anyway whenever he decides he needs a free assistant. Thank God I don’t have a boyfriend telling me what to do.”

  “Rick Fanelli,” Aunt Peg mused. “That name sounds familiar.”

  “You’ve probably seen him around the shows,” Abby told her. “Tall, skinny, guy? Decent looking for a geek? Amanda is just besotted. I don’t see it myself, but supposedly it’s true love.”

  “What does Rick do?” I asked.

  “He’s a handl
er. Kind of.” Abby stopped just short of rolling her eyes, but her disdain was perfectly clear. “I think it’s something he fell into because he thought it looked like an easy way to make money. Which, of course, it isn’t. When his schedule is tight, Amanda goes along to give him a hand.”

  “So they were together yesterday at the show,” I said. “Did Rick know about your plans with Amanda for last night?”

  “I guess so. He said he dropped Amanda off at her apartment after the show, then went back to his own place. He hasn’t heard from her since.”

  “Is it unusual for her not to be in touch with him?” Aunt Peg asked.

  “Apparently, no. At least not that he would admit to me. Rick just said ‘Amanda is her own woman.’ Like he was regurgitating some stupid platitude he’d heard on The View. It didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest that he didn’t know where she was.”

  “But it bothers you,” Aunt Peg said gently.

  “Of course it does,” Abby replied. “Amanda’s not just my sister, she’s my twin. I can’t imagine her going away somewhere without letting me know. Something has to be wrong.”

  “When was the last time you saw Amanda?” I asked.

  “Last Tuesday. She came over to my place for dinner. We thought it would be warm enough to cook outdoors so we bought hamburgers and set up the grill.” Abby smiled at the memory. “Then the sun went down and it turned cold. Like really cold. I was freezing my butt off, flipping burgers with one hand and guzzling wine with the other. Amanda was laughing at me from inside the kitchen. She kept popping out with the wine bottle to refill my glass.”

  It was nice to see Abby finally start to relax, I thought. “And Amanda seemed fine to you then?”

  “Yes, same as ever. If something had been wrong, I know she would have told me.”

  “And now she’s vanished,” Aunt Peg said with a frown. “And the woman from whom she rents her apartment has been murdered.”

  “So it’s true then.” Abby sounded resigned. “I heard that Jasmine died yesterday. That news was all over the show grounds. But I wasn’t sure about the rest of it. I’m sure you know how unreliable dog show gossip can be. Was she really strangled with one of her own leashes?”

  “I’m afraid so,” said Aunt Peg. “Jasmine’s death wasn’t an accident. Which tells me that you’re right to be concerned about your sister’s whereabouts.”

  “You should talk to the police,” I said to Abby.

  “I’ve already done that. I called this morning and talked to a detective in Weston.” Abruptly she stood up and began to pace. That was no mean feat considering how many Poodles were lying on the floor around us.

  “And?” Aunt Peg prompted.

  “I didn’t accomplish a thing. The problem is that Amanda’s an adult. And that she hasn’t even been missing for a day. And that her apartment wasn’t trashed or anything. And her car hasn’t been stolen. The detective I spoke to told me to calm down.”

  Abby spun back around to face us. Apparently the detective’s advice had had the opposite effect. “You know,” she snapped, “like I hadn’t thought of that myself.”

  Several of the dogs in the room lifted their heads as Abby’s voice rose. Poodles are naturally empathetic, and the tenor of conversation was beginning to worry them too.

  “The detective said maybe the battery on Amanda’s phone had run down. And that she might have gone for a walk or something, and doesn’t know I’m trying to reach her. Apparently nothing that’s happened is reason enough for them to file a missing persons report.”

  “That can’t be right,” Aunt Peg said sharply. “Not under these circumstances. Did you explain about what happened to Jasmine?”

  “Of course I did. At least, I tried to. But what little I knew was pretty sketchy. I was busy showing dogs all day, so I didn’t even hear about it until after Best in Show. Plus Jasmine died in eastern Connecticut and I was talking to a detective all the way on the other side of the state. So it’s like, different jurisdictions or precincts or something. . . .”

  Abby threw up her hands in frustration. I could sympathize. There were times I’d felt much the same way when dealing with the police.

  I watched her slowly exhale, then draw in a deep breath. Her gaze dropped to the floor as if she’d suddenly become aware of all the Poodles in the room. Legs folding beneath her, Abby crouched down and wound her arms around Willow’s neck. The Poodle shifted slightly and curled her body into the embrace.

  When in doubt, hug a dog. That’s my mantra. It looked as though it was Abby’s too.

  When she looked up again a minute later, Abby was once more in control of her emotions. She gave Willow one last pat and went back to the love seat. Then she sat down and looked directly at Aunt Peg. “So that’s why I’m here. I need your help. You have a reputation. Everybody knows you’re good at getting to the bottom of things.”

  “Perhaps you mean Melanie.” Aunt Peg nodded my way.

  “Either one of you,” Abby said quickly. “Or both of you, I don’t care. I just need someone who will believe me when I say that something’s wrong. Peg, you know Amanda. She’s worked for you for more than a year. You know she’s not some flakey, flighty girl who would just disappear for no reason.”

  “Quite right,” Aunt Peg agreed. “This kind of behavior certainly seems out of character.”

  “So then you’ll help me find her?” Abby stared hard at the two of us, willing us to give her the response she wanted. “Please?”

  When I was a child, I’d always wanted a sister. Now I was fortunate to have several women friends who were every bit as close to me as a sibling would have been. If something had happened to one of them, I would have done everything in my power to fix it.

  Now, gazing at Abby, I knew how she was feeling. There was no way I could turn her down.

  “We’ll see what we can do,” I said.

  * * *

  I never got to finish my cranberry scone. Indeed, after listening to what Abby’d had to say, I’d forgotten all about it. Before she left, I’d already decided where I was going to start my search for her missing twin: Amanda’s apartment. Abby fished her key out of her purse and handed it over.

  As I was loading Faith in the Volvo, Aunt Peg came running outside with a small bundle in her hand. She’d wrapped the scone in a napkin for me. Faith and I shared it on the drive to Weston.

  I also called Sam and let him know that I was going to be home a little later than expected.

  “What’s in Weston?” he asked.

  “Jasmine Crane’s house. But it isn’t what you think.”

  “Oh?” He chuckled softly. Living with me has turned that man into a skeptic.

  “There’s been a new development,” I said. “Aunt Peg’s dog sitter has disappeared.”

  “Her dog sitter.” There was a pause as he considered that. “Didn’t we meet her once?”

  “Yes, it was a while ago though. Her name is Amanda Burke. Her sister is Abby Burke, who shows hounds.”

  I could have described Abby physically, but we were dog people. Giving Sam her breed affiliation instead worked as a handy short cut. I knew he’d be able to picture her immediately.

  “I didn’t know those two were related,” he said.

  “I didn’t either. Abby showed up at Aunt Peg’s house this afternoon to tell her that Amanda was missing. And—get this—it turns out that Amanda lives over Jasmine Crane’s garage.”

  “That’s an interesting coincidence,” Sam mused. “How long has Amanda been missing?”

  “Since yesterday evening—”

  I heard a loud thunk, then Kevin’s voice broke into the conversation. “Hi, Mom!”

  “Hi, sweetie. What happened to your father?”

  “I threw him a ball so we could play catch and he dropped the phone. Do you want to talk to Bud?”

  “No, I—”

  “Does Faith want to talk to Bud? He’s right here.”

  “No, thank you. Put Daddy back on, oka
y?”

  “Sorry about that.” Sam was breathing heavily. “I didn’t see the baseball coming. And Kev has a better arm than you’d expect on a four-year-old. Unfortunately . . . the ball . . . hit me in the wrong place.”

  “Oh. That’s too bad.” Even though I knew it was wrong, I almost laughed anyway.

  “Don’t you dare laugh,” said Sam.

  “Of course not. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “What do you expect to find at Jasmine’s house?”

  “Not her house,” I corrected. “Just the apartment over her garage. I have a key.”

  “I guess that’s a good thing.” Sam didn’t sound convinced. Or maybe he was still trying to catch his breath. “Stay out of trouble.”

  “I’ll do my best,” I replied.

  As if either one of us believed that.

  Chapter 6

  Faith and I took the Merritt Parkway to Westport, then headed north. Picturesque Weston looked like a Norman Rockwell painting of the quintessential small New England town. The community was mostly residential, with houses well spaced on generous, private lots.

  I rolled down the car window as we slowed to look for Jasmine’s address. It was a beautiful April day, and spring was in the air. On either side of the road, crocuses were beginning to appear. Tree branches overhead were starting to bud. The warmth of the sun on my face felt wonderful.

  Jasmine’s ranch-style home was situated on a slight rise at the end of a curving driveway. The house was painted dark red with black shutters. The focal point of the paneled front door was a shiny brass knocker shaped like a fox’s head. Twenty feet from the house was a matching, detached two car garage. The second story above it looked barely big enough to house an apartment, but its peaked roof had skylights on either side.

  A white Toyota was parked in front of the garage. I assumed that was Amanda’s car. But I was surprised to also see another vehicle in Jasmine’s driveway. A navy blue minivan had been pulled up next to the house. Its sliding door was sitting open. The sun glinted off an elaborate key chain, dangling from the key in the van’s ignition.

  “That’s odd,” I said to Faith. “I wonder who’s here?” She stood up on the seat and took a look. Faith likes meeting new people no matter who they are. Obviously she didn’t share my concern.