Wagging Through the Snow

by Laurien Berenson

  “Go away,” he said as I approached.

  The hostility in his tone caused several nearby dog owners to turn and have a look at us. As if by consensus, they followed his dictate and removed themselves from the vicinity. I didn’t think that was what Kenny had in mind.

  “You don’t even know what I’m going to say yet,” I told him.

  “I can guess,” he mumbled.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Go ahead and what?”

  “Guess,” I said. I was standing right in front of him now.

  Kenny scowled. “I’m not playing your game.”

  “No games. I’m just trying to figure out who disliked your old friend Pete enough to want to kill him.”

  Kenny lifted his fingers to his lips and gave a loud whistle. Rufus, still busy playing with his friends, ignored him. “It wasn’t me.”

  “I didn’t think it was,” I said.

  That got his attention. “Why not?”

  I opted for honesty. “If you didn’t murder him five years ago when he swindled you out of money and slept with your wife, you probably weren’t going to do it now.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “Maybe I’m hoping you have some ideas. You’re the man who knew Pete better than anyone. Did he have any enemies?”

  Kenny barked out a laugh. “That’s rich. Would you like a list?”

  “Sure. Or you can start by telling me what you told Olivia. She said Pete had his demons. I’m wondering what they were.”

  “That stuff’s old news.” When he blew out a breath, condensation swirled in the air between us. “I’m not going to rehash what went on in high school. Certainly not with you.”

  “I thought you might be interested in seeing justice served.”

  “I can’t imagine why. Will justice return my money? Will it bring back my marriage?”

  When I didn’t reply right away, Kenny shook his head. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

  Rufus came wandering by. Kenny reached out and snagged the Great Dane’s collar. He pulled a leather lead out of his pocket and snapped it on. The pair started to walk away, then Kenny stopped and looked back. “If you figure out who did it, let me know. I’d like to buy the guy a beer.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  At least my trip to the dog park hadn’t been a total loss.

  Though Kenny had been determined not to talk to me, an interesting tidbit had still slipped out. I’m not going to rehash what went on in high school, he’d said. Pete’s past life encompassed a lot of years. Now I was pretty sure my search had just been narrowed down considerably.

  I had to wait until Tuesday to get back to Stonebridge again. In the intervening day-and-a-half, we brought our new Christmas tree into the house and decorated it, I managed to sneak out for some surreptitious Christmas shopping, and the Poodle pack did their best to make me feel guilty that none of the running around I was doing included them. That led to numerous long walks around the neighborhood and the distribution of more peanut butter biscuits than were strictly necessary. Aunt Peg wasn’t the only one who knew how to play me like a harp.

  Monday at school my ability to concentrate was sadly lacking. In my defense, I wasn’t the only one. Now that Christmas was almost upon us, half the students I tutored had already left for holiday vacations in far-flung locales. The other half were dreaming of the parties they planned to attend or the presents Santa would be leaving beneath their Christmas trees. If any serious schoolwork was being performed during this lead-up to the holiday, I certainly wasn’t aware of it.

  By the time I left Howard Academy on Tuesday afternoon, I felt nothing but a sense of relief that I was finally on my way back to Pete’s hometown. I had a hunch that I was closing in on something important and I was hoping that Pete’s high school girlfriend, Sharon LaRue, might be able to help me figure out what it was.

  Planning ahead that morning, I’d left Faith at home with Sam and the other Poodles for company. That seemed like a better alternative than making her sit in the high school parking lot again.

  This time when I walked in the school’s front door, I knew where I was going. I didn’t pass a single person on my way to the assistant principal’s office. Nor was anyone sitting at the outer desk. Apparently Howard Academy wasn’t the only school dealing with the effects of the upcoming holiday.

  Sharon LaRue’s office door was slightly ajar. I knocked lightly and waited until she looked up from a paper she’d been studying and acknowledged my presence. Today her tawny hair was loose around her shoulders. The style made her look both younger and prettier. A wool sweater dress hugged her generous curves.

  Sharon had a pair of reading glasses perched on her nose. She removed them and set them carefully to one side of her desk before greeting me with a half-smile.

  “Melanie Travis,” she said. An ability to remember names was probably helpful in her position. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”

  “Do you mind if I come in?”

  “No, but I’m a little pressed for time.” She glanced at a clock on the wall. “I can spare ten minutes though. What’s this about?”

  “As you may know, I’ve been speaking with some of Pete Dempsey’s former friends and family.”

  Sharon nodded. “Pretty much everyone in town is aware of that. I have to admit I’m not sure what you hope to achieve. Pete left Stonebridge a long time ago. Nobody here has any desire to dredge those memories back up.”

  “It appears that Pete’s death may not have been an accident,” I said.

  It took Sharon a moment to absorb what I’d said. Then her body went utterly still. “What are you talking about?”

  “When Pete died, there was no alcohol in his system. And according to a current friend of his, Pete hadn’t had a drink in months. As part of the program he’d joined to get sober, Pete had been making contact with people from his past.”

  Sharon shook her head. “I can hardly believe that. This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

  “So he didn’t attempt to get in touch with you?”

  “Heavens no. Why would he? Our relationship ended years before his problems began. Pete and I had both long since moved on.”

  A picture was sitting on the corner of Sharon’s desk. She reached over and turned the frame around so I could see photograph within. An attractive man with grizzled gray hair and a wide smile was standing with his arm around a younger woman who was mugging for the camera.

  “That’s my husband, Steve, with our daughter Amy,” Sharon told me. “Steve and I got married our freshman year in college. Our parents thought we were too young to know what we wanted, but it will be twenty-three happy years next June. So you see, I was lucky. When Pete broke up with me, I met the love of my life. If he’d attempted to get in touch with me after all this time, the only thing I would have had to say to him is thank you.”

  “Most people in Stonebridge don’t share your equanimity,” I said. “A couple of them have alluded to something that might have happened to Pete a long time ago. Maybe while he was here in school?”

  “Something like what?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I came to see you. Last time we spoke you implied that Pete had led a charmed life when he was young. But nobody’s life is perfect, especially not in high school. I’m wondering if something could have happened that you didn’t mention. Some kind of unresolved issue that might have plagued him later.”

  Sharon thought for a minute before answering. “There was one thing. Not an issue, exactly. More like a rivalry. You met Pete’s brother, Tyler.”

  “Just briefly,” I said. “He wasn’t eager to talk to me.”

  “That’s not surprising. Tyler was never eager to get involved with anything that had to do with Pete. Those brothers were always competitive and unfortunately for Tyler, he was usually on the losing end of things. I remember when he was a sophomore, he went out for the football team. As you can see, this isn’t a big school. It’s not like our sports
teams can afford to turn away anyone who wants to play, you know?”

  I nodded.

  “Pete was a senior by then and he was the quarterback. He made it clear to the coach that he wasn’t going to play on any team that included his little brother. He didn’t even want Tyler sitting on the bench. He insisted his brother be relegated to the stands with the parents, the nerds, and rest of the kids who couldn’t hack it.”

  “That terrible,” I said.

  “I totally agree with you. But that’s how those two were with one another. They fought over everything, no matter how trivial.” Sharon pushed back her chair and stood. “Pete’s disappearance was the best thing that ever happened to Tyler. Even if it’s by default, he’s the favorite son now.”

  Sharon walked past me and headed for the door. I turned and followed.

  “I guess you heard that their mother isn’t doing well?”

  “Yes, you mentioned that before.”

  “I don’t think poor Betty has long to live. And, of course, the news of Pete’s death must have come as a huge blow to her.”

  “If Pete had tried to contact his mother,” I asked, “would Tyler have given him access?”

  Sharon frowned. “Truthfully, I don’t know the answer to that. You’ll have to ask him yourself.”

  “If you had to guess?” I pressed.

  Sharon leaned toward me. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Pete and Tyler were Betty’s only children and their father has been dead for years. So now there’s an inheritance to consider too. Under those circumstances, do I think Tyler would have allowed Pete back in their mother’s life? No way in hell do I see that happening.”

  * * *

  I left the high school and drove to the Dempseys’ house, planning to have a conversation with whomever answered the door—Tyler or Betty, either one was fine with me.

  Since the last time I’d been to Meadow Lane, Christmas decorations had gone up around the neighborhood. The houses on either side of the Dempsey home had fairy lights on their eaves, ornate wreaths on their front doors, and pine roping wrapped around their mailbox posts. Compared to the holiday festivity that surrounded it, the house I parked in front of looked plain. Almost somber.

  A gauzy curtain in a front window flicked open as I got out of my car. It fell back into place when I was on the brick walkway. Once again, Tyler Dempsey didn’t wait for me to reach the door before he opened it and stepped outside.

  “You shouldn’t have come back here,” he said.

  I gazed up at him. Sunlight glanced off the snow around me and I had to lift my hand to shade my eyes. “I’ve been talking to people about your brother.”

  Tyler grimaced slightly. “I suppose you think I should care about that.”

  “In your place, I would.”

  “That’s hardly relevant, is it? You and I know nothing about one another. I doubt we have anything in common.”

  “I was hoping we could talk.” I started up the steps.

  Tyler folded his arms across his chest. “I will not have you in this house.”

  “Fine,” I snapped. “Then out here. Maybe you’d like to get a coat?”

  He reached inside around the doorframe. There must have been a coat rack there because a leather jacket appeared in his hand. Tyler shrugged it on, then pulled the door closed behind him. He walked down the two front steps, passed me, and kept going.

  “We’ll talk in your car,” he told me. “I won’t have the entire neighborhood listening to my business.”

  The interior of the Volvo was only slightly warmer than the crisp air outside. As Tyler made himself comfortable in the passenger seat, I turned on the engine and blasted the heat.

  “There’s no need to warm the car on my account,” he said. “I won’t be here long. You need to understand that my mother is very ill. She doesn’t have long to live.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “I don’t want your condolences. What I want is for you to go away and leave us alone. Pete’s descent into alcoholism was very distressing for my mother. His subsequent departure even more so.”

  “I understand that she and your brother were very close.”

  He closed his eyes briefly before speaking again. “Yes, they were. Which is why she felt Pete’s failures as a son, and a husband, and a father, all the more keenly. Though his disappearance came as a terrible shock, over time it also served to ease some of her turmoil. At least in his absence, Mother wasn’t served a daily reminder of her son’s deficiencies.”

  I stared at him across the seat. “Is that your mother’s opinion or yours?”

  “Let me tell you something, Ms. Travis. The only reason you and I are having this conversation is so I can make it clear that my brother’s untimely demise is a topic Mother must be shielded from at all costs. Knowing what happened could only cause undue stress at a time when her life must remain as peaceful as possible.”

  “You didn’t seem particularly upset by the news of your brother’s death.”

  Tyler frowned “That’s an unnecessarily personal observation. Not all families are happy ones, Ms. Travis.”

  He reached for the door handle. I was running out of time.

  “Pete had started contacting people from his past, people he’d known in Stonebridge. I’m sure his family must have been at the top of that list.” I finished what I wanted to say in a rush: “Pete got in touch with you, didn’t he?”

  Tyler’s hand stilled. The car door remained closed.

  “Not that it’s any of your business,” he said after a minute. “But yes, he and I spoke several weeks before he died. Pete tried to convince me that he’d stopped drinking. He told me he was putting his life in order.”

  “It was true,” I said softly.

  Tyler turned and looked at me. “Was it? If you truly believe that, you are a more gullible person than I. In the course of our conversation, Pete and I agreed on just one thing—that our mother’s health and happiness was paramount. To let her hope that her older son had finally been restored to her, only to lose him once again to a relapse would have been tragic. A shock like that could have killed her.”

  I shook my head. “Maybe that should have been your mother’s choice to make.”

  “No,” Tyler said stubbornly. “Pete and I agreed. We made a deal. For once in his incurably selfish life, my brother put someone else’s needs ahead of his own.”

  “What kind of deal?”

  “If Pete stayed sober until the new year—if he managed to go a full four months without a drink—I would tell Mother that we had been in contact. Together she and I would welcome him home.”

  “But you never expected that to happen,” I said.

  “No, of course not. I was quite certain Pete wouldn’t be able to uphold his end of the bargain.” Tyler reached for the handle again. This time he pushed the door open before turning back to me. A draft of cold air came streaming into the warm car. “And as it turned out, I was right.”

  “Not entirely,” I told him. “Pete’s accident wasn’t caused by alcohol. He wasn’t drunk when he died.”

  Tyler’s reaction wasn’t what I’d expected. He merely shrugged.

  “And yet the end result is still the same, isn’t it? One way or another, Pete’s reappearance in our lives would have had a devastating impact. You’ve only confirmed what I said from the beginning. I was right to remain silent. Good day, Ms. Travis. I hope we won’t have occasion to meet again.”

  I’d have been tempted to slam the car door, but Tyler closed it softly behind him. Then he turned away from me and walked to his house. I watched until he went inside. Tyler never looked back.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Wednesday afternoon after school, Sam was busy working and Davey, Kevin, and I were gathered around the kitchen table.

  Davey, having summoned me to this get-together, had also supplied the refreshments. In front of each place setting was a mug of hot chocolate with pieces of candy cane floating on top. A plate of m
y favorite cinnamon Christmas cookies sat in the middle of the table. Next to my seat was a thick pad of lined paper accompanied by two pens.

  Color me intrigued.

  The Poodle pack, including honorary member Bud, had followed us out to the kitchen. As Davey, Kev, and I found our seats around the table the Poodles jostled for position on the floor.

  Predictably, Tar flopped down beneath Kev’s chair. He was ever hopeful that food would drop into his mouth and Kevin was the most likely benefactor. Augie went straight to Davey. Faith and Eve lay down beside me. Raven and Bud curled up next to each other on the big dog bed tucked against the wall. Christmas music wafted through the room.

  The stage was set. But for what?

  “It’s time to make Christmas lists,” Davey announced.

  Kev nodded his head in agreement. “It was my idea.”

  “Your idea?” Somehow that didn’t come as a surprise. At almost-four, my younger son loved everything about Christmas. But still. “More lists? New lists? Additions to your previous lists?”

  Kevin had begun to giggle. Davey was grinning too.

  “I could have sworn you both gave me your Christmas lists before Thanksgiving.” Seriously. They’d have handed them over before Halloween if I’d been receptive to the idea.

  “They’re not for us, silly,” Kev informed me.

  Davey waved a hand around the room. “They’re for the Poodles.”

  “And Bud!” Kev added.

  You know, in case there was any doubt. Which there hadn’t been.

  I gazed around at the canine corps. Now that we’d settled into our seats, most of the Poodles were snoozing contentedly. There was a basket of dog toys in the corner, but no one had opted to pull something out and start a game. Well-muscled, well-fed, with bright eyes and dense shiny coats, none of our dogs looked as though they lacked for anything.

  Except perhaps for Tar, who was sadly lacking in brainpower. He’d flipped over on his back and was now lying with his tongue hanging out of his half-open mouth and all four feet pointing up in the air. Somehow I didn’t think a Christmas list would help that.