Ruff Justice

by Laurien Berenson

  “Oh. That’s too bad.” Nettie looked disappointed. She’d clearly been hoping I could provide some salacious gossip for her to pass along.

  “What else are people saying?” I asked.

  She shrugged and glanced around her booth, probably hoping to see other customers. Now that my information had been found wanting, I was no longer interesting.

  “Oh, you know,” Nettie said. “The usual.”

  The usual? Was there such a thing? The very idea was horrifying to contemplate.

  “Like what?”

  “Mostly, the rest of us who have concessions are wondering about our own safety. If something like that could happen to Jasmine right in the middle of a busy afternoon, how do we know that one of us couldn’t be next?”

  “So you don’t think that Jasmine was targeted specifically?”

  “I don’t know what to think,” Nettie replied. “And mostly I don’t want to think about it at all.”

  I found Kevin playing in a bin of brightly colored yarns. I took his hand, and he and I headed down the row. We spoke briefly with a man selling dog beds who said he had nothing to say and didn’t want to be involved. The woman in the T-shirt booth was doing a brisk business. She was too busy to stop and talk.

  The next booth we came to was Alan Crandall’s concession. Creature Comforts was a staple of the New England show scene. Unlike the boutique vendors who specialized in a single canine-related product, Creature Comforts sold almost everything a dog show exhibitor could possibly need.

  Leash break on the way to the ring? Creature Comforts to the rescue. Forgot your slicker brush at home? Grab a new one at Creature Comforts. Dog threw up on the cushion in his crate? Replace it with a stock item from Creature Comforts. It wasn’t surprising that Alan Crandall had been the one to step in and lend a hand when the Sedgefield show committee had been in a jam.

  As usual the Creature Comforts booth was crowded with shoppers. A team of salespeople was busy making sure that no one ever had to wait for service. I was directed to the rear of the booth, where Alan Crandall was standing behind a table, ringing up customers’ purchases.

  There was a line of people wanting to check out, so I figured Kev and I should probably come back another time. But Alan saw us waiting for him and passed the cash drawer over to an assistant. Though he and I had never formally met, I’d done plenty of business at his booth over the years. I probably looked just as familiar to Alan Crandall as he did to me.

  “Tell me what you need,” he said. He was tall and thin and leaned down when he spoke to me, as if he was afraid his words would go right over my head otherwise. Behind tortoiseshell frame glasses, he had kindly brown eyes.

  We introduced ourselves and shook hands.

  “I need answers,” I told him with a smile. “Do you have any?”

  “I might. It depends on the questions.”

  “I’m trying to find out what happened to Jasmine Crane.”

  Alan reared back. He hadn’t expected that. “Why?” “It’s a bit of a long story.”

  “Well, in that case, I’ll cut to the chase,” Alan replied. “I don’t know.”

  “Gwen Kimble told me that you ended up with Jasmine’s things after the show?”

  “That’s right. The show committee was in a bind. We had the space and the manpower to help out, so we did. That’s all there was to it.” He paused, then added, “Everything Jasmine took to last week’s show is in our warehouse. If you’re interested, I’d be happy to have someone take it off my hands.”

  “Sorry, I’m afraid I can’t help you with that.” I shrugged apologetically. “Did you know Jasmine well?”

  “No, not really. What little relationship we had was based on proximity and common goals. We were cordial with one another, but not particularly friendly.”

  “Did she have any enemies that you’re aware of?”

  Alan frowned. “I wouldn’t know anything about that. It seemed to me that Jasmine could be a bit prickly at times. She always thought the next guy was getting perks that she wasn’t. But something that might have made someone want to strangle her? That goes way beyond my purview.”

  While we’d been speaking, the checkout line had doubled in size. Alan’s assistant was casting anxious glances in our direction. It was time to let him get back to work.

  “Thank you for talking to me,” I said.

  “No problem. Something like that happening here . . . at a dog show . . . it hurts all of us. I hope you find the answers you’re looking for.”

  “I do too,” I replied.

  Kevin and I had time for one last stop, so we ducked into a bookseller’s booth next door. Kev immediately grabbed a picture book with an image of an Old English Sheepdog on the cover. Since it looked like we’d be making a purchase, I sat him down on a nearby bench where he could thumb through the pictures while I had a word with the man in charge.

  The concession was mostly empty of people. Apparently books weren’t as big a draw as T-shirts and corn dogs. Toward the back of the booth, a portly man with bushy sideburns was bending down to pull books out of a carton. The banner above the booth read MANNING BOOKS, LELAND MANNING, PROPRIETOR so I took a shot.

  “Excuse me, are you Leland Manning?”

  “That’s me.” He straightened and turned to face me. “How can I help you?”

  “I’ve been talking to vendors who were at last week’s dog show in Sedgefield.”

  Leland stared and said nothing. His eyes narrowed fractionally.

  “You were there, weren’t you?” I already knew the answer to that. I’d passed Manning Books on my way to Jasmine’s booth. It was right next door.

  “Yes, I was there. Quite a mess that day turned into. Not good for business at all. I assume you want to talk about Jasmine Crane. Are you a reporter?”

  “No, I’m trying to locate a friend of Jasmine’s who disappeared around the same time.”

  “Who would that be?”

  “Amanda Burke.”

  Leland shook his head. “Don’t know her. Sorry. Can’t help you.”

  “Do you have any thoughts about what happened to Jasmine?”

  “Just one,” said Leland. “Good riddance.”

  He went back to unloading books. I guess he thought our conversation was finished. But after hearing that answer, I was just getting started. Leland’s back was now facing me. I walked around to the other side of the box.

  “I take it you and she weren’t friends?”

  “Nope,” Leland muttered. “Not anymore.”

  “Were you once?”

  “I thought so.” He dropped a stack of books on a nearby table. “I was mistaken.”

  “It sounds like there’s a story there,” I said.

  “Did you know Jasmine?”

  “Not really. I just looked around her booth a few times, that’s all.”

  “Jasmine was an interesting woman. She had a way about her that was very appealing. She could be funny when she was in the mood. And flirty sometimes too.” Leland frowned as though the memory wasn’t a happy one.

  “She used to come and hang around my booth when business was slow,” he continued. “Asked me all about my books. Jasmine was especially interested in the rare editions. She said she’d heard that people collected valuable books and she wanted me to tell her how that worked.”

  “I didn’t realize you had collectible books here,” I said, surprised.

  “Not many, but I have a few. Just the dog stories, of course. You’d be surprised what people might ask for at a dog show. So I like to be prepared, you know?”

  “Of course.” I nodded. “That makes sense.”

  “I showed Jasmine some of the special books I keep locked in a case. She seemed sincerely interested in learning about rare books. We had a wonderful conversation about our favorite authors.”

  “It sounds as though you got to know her pretty well.”

  “Maybe,” Leland allowed. “But apparently I didn’t know her well enough. On
e night when I went to pack up my booth, I realized that my first edition of The Call of the Wild was gone from the case. I’d noticed Jasmine hanging around earlier in the day, but I didn’t think anything about it. But once I saw that book was missing, I knew exactly who’d taken it.”

  “Did you confront her about it?” I asked.

  “Of course. That was a signed first edition. It was worth five hundred dollars. I couldn’t afford that kind of loss. I asked her if she’d borrowed it while I wasn’t looking. I purposely gave her a way to return the book without any recriminations being made.”

  “And did she?”

  “Hell, no,” Leland snapped. “Jasmine looked me right in the eye and denied everything. Said she was sorry for my loss but that she’d had nothing to do with it.”

  “Maybe she was telling the truth,” I said.

  Leland shook his head. He didn’t want to hear it. “It would’ve had to be a huge coincidence if she was. Jasmine and I had looked at the book together just the week before. She said she was a big fan of Jack London and asked how much a first edition like that was worth. After I told her, I could see her eying it. I could tell that book was something she wanted.”

  “You said you keep your rare books under lock and key. How did Jasmine gain access to it?”

  “That was my fault,” Leland grumbled. “More fool, me. Jasmine, she was an attractive woman. I guess maybe I was a little flattered by her attention. I kept the key to the display case in a drawer underneath.”

  I lifted a brow. “That doesn’t sound very secure.”

  “It’s never been a problem before. Not until Jasmine Crane watched me open and shut that case a few times, and saw how easy it would be to help herself to something that didn’t belong to her.”

  “I can understand why you’re upset,” I said. “But you didn’t see Jasmine take the book. Maybe someone else figured out your security system.”

  “No,” Leland replied stubbornly. “It was Jasmine. That woman played me and I fell for it. She was always short on money. Always looking for ways to put a little extra cash in the coffers.”

  That was the first I’d heard of that.

  “Jasmine called herself an entrepreneur. She had her fingers in a lot of different pies. I just wish I’d cottoned on to who she really was before I let her greedy hands on my business.”

  Chapter 11

  I paid for Kevin’s picture book, then he and I headed back to the setup. Sam and Davey were waiting for us. While we’d been gone, Augie’s coat had been brushed out. His topknot had been taken down and rewrapped. It was time to head home.

  Early the next morning, we started the process all over again. We’d left most of our gear in the grooming area overnight, so everyone was back in the same place. Today, however, two things had changed.

  The first was that Aunt Peg was showing too. She’d arrived at the show site ahead of us and squeezed her things in between our setup and Bertie’s. The second was that today Davey would be showing Augie to a different judge. Lillian Abernathy had given Augie points once before in lesser company. I could only hope she would remember him and like what she saw today.

  Aunt Peg seemed to think it could happen. So did Terry. Aunt Peg was too superstitious to say anything. Not Terry. As usual, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

  “Today’s your day,” he called over to Davey from the neighboring setup as the two of them brushed out Standard Poodles. “Just make sure you give Mrs. Abernathy a good look at that dog’s head. She’s a sucker for a pretty face.”

  “Excuse me,” Crawford said to his assistant. “I don’t think we need to be giving the competition any pointers.” Then he looked at Davey and winked. “That dog is going to be tough enough to beat already, without you helping him.”

  “Do you really think so?” Davey was usually calm in the lead-up to the competition. Today he sounded anxious. The episode in the ring the day before had shaken his confidence. “I just hope we don’t end up anywhere near Joe Pond and his dog.”

  The same thought had crossed my mind. But before I could answer, Terry snorted out a laugh.

  “You won’t,” he said.

  Even Crawford permitted himself a small smile.

  “No?” Aunt Peg had been perusing her catalog. She looked up inquiringly.

  “Joe Pond appears to have scratched his Poodle entry for the rest of the weekend,” Bertie spoke up from our other side.

  “Is that so?” said Sam.

  “Not just his Standards,” Terry informed us. “His Minis and Toys are out too. It seems he decided there was somewhere else he would rather be today.”

  Aunt Peg looked surprised. “The man must be a complete ninny. I didn’t mean to scare him that badly.” She turned to Crawford. “Please tell me his withdrawal didn’t break the majors in Standards.”

  “No, both majors are still intact,” he replied. “And I’m planning to give young Davey a run for his money.”

  “You can have the one in bitches,” Davey told him. He was looking much more cheerful than he had five minutes earlier. “As long as you leave the major in dogs for me.”

  “Not so fast,” said Aunt Peg. “What about Coral?”

  “You got your piece last weekend,” Terry replied. “And then had the nerve to complain about it. It would serve you right if you didn’t even get out of the Puppy class.”

  “Harrumph,” said Aunt Peg.

  Terry was right and we all knew it.

  There was still more than an hour before the start of the Standard Poodle judging. Everyone, except for me, had a dog in front of them on a grooming table. Everyone else had work to do. I decided to make myself useful by checking out the concessions again. Kevin was happy playing with Josh and Daisy, so I set off on my own.

  A woman selling fragrant funnel cakes was too busy to stop and talk to me. The man in the canine photography booth waved me on my way before I’d even finished speaking. The vendor after that was Spenser Pet Supplies.

  Over the years, I’d visited Lana Spenser’s booth more times than I could count. I’d also made numerous purchases.

  Since much of Lana’s merchandise was similar to products offered by Creature Comforts, she and Alan Crandall were in direct competition for the same small pool of customers. Lana had made an effort to set her business apart by offering a selection of quirky and unusual items along with her pet supplies. In addition, Lana had the uncanny ability to remember every one of her customers’ names and their favorite breed of dog—an attribute that made her popular in the dog show community.

  “Good morning, Melanie,” Lana sang out cheerfully as I entered the booth. She was dressed in skinny jeans and a colorful sweater. Her dark blond hair fell down her back in a long braid. “Do you need to find something in a hurry or should I let you look around in peace?”

  “Peace?” I smiled. “What’s that?”

  “Oh right. We’re at a dog show.” She laughed. “I was hoping it was too early in the day for people to be frantic yet.”

  “If you have a minute,” I said, “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  Lana nodded. “Jasmine Crane, right?”

  “How did you know that?”

  “The police talked to all of us last week. It occurred to me that you might not be far behind.”

  I guessed my reputation preceded me.

  “I’ll start by saving you some time,” said Lana. “I don’t know a darn thing about what happened. My booth was at the other end of the row from Jasmine’s and I didn’t see anything, or hear anything, until all the excitement was just about over. Which was really annoying, because I hate being the last to know stuff.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “A customer told me. Then the police came by. Then later I saw Alan Crandall loading up Jasmine’s things in his truck.”

  “The show committee had to get everything out of the park by the end of the day,” I said. “They needed someone to deal with Jasmine’s booth and Alan volunteered to
help out.”

  “Oh, really?” Lana muttered. She didn’t sound convinced.

  “That’s what Gwen Kimble told me. What did you think?”

  She shrugged. “Jasmine and Alan . . . those two were thick as thieves. Actually I wouldn’t be surprised if, in a week or two, we saw Creature Comforts offering some of Jasmine’s artwork for sale.”

  “He can’t do that,” I told her. “The art doesn’t belong to him. He’s just storing it until Jasmine’s beneficiaries come to claim it.”

  “In that case, I hope somebody took inventory before everything disappeared into the back of his truck.”

  “You don’t like Alan Crandall very much, do you?”

  Lana’s chin lifted. “No, I don’t. And neither would you if you were in my shoes. My store is tiny compared to his. Minuscule. And yet it still bothers him that he doesn’t have the pet supply monopoly on the dog show circuit. I guess no one ever told him that a little competition is supposed to be a good thing. Sometimes I feel like I’m a fly and he’s a big, fat fly swatter.”

  “Surely things can’t be that bad,” I said with a laugh.

  Lana smiled reluctantly. “You’re right, they’re not. Don’t pay any attention to me. I shouldn’t complain when I’m doing fine.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” I made a silent vow to shift more of my business in Lana’s direction. “Just one last thing. You always seem to know everybody on the showground. I’m wondering if you’ve run across a woman named Amanda Burke.”

  “Abby’s sister?” Lana sounded surprised. “Sure, I know her. In fact, I know her pretty well. She dog-sits for me sometimes.”

  “Have you spoken to her recently?”

  Lana thought back. “No, probably not for a couple of months. The last time I went out of town was to a trade show in early February. Why?”

  “Amanda seems to be missing. She disappeared last Sunday after the show. Abby’s pretty worried. She asked me to look for Amanda, but so far I haven’t had much luck.”

  “Missing?” Lana frowned. “I hope nothing’s happened to her. Have you talked to Tamryn Klein?”

  I searched my memory but the name wasn’t familiar. “No, I haven’t. Who is she?”