Hounded to Death

by Laurien Berenson

  “It was Charles Evans,” I said. “Did you know him?”

  “Mostly by reputation. Everyone who’s been involved in dogs for any length of time knew who he was. Charles was the kind of man who had his finger in a lot of different pies. Judging, lecturing, fundraising—if there was an event or a gala anywhere, you could pretty much figure the Evanses were going to be on hand.”

  “I guess that’s what brought them here. Charles was the keynote speaker.”

  “Margo Deline must have had a fit when she heard what he had to say. I heard he called for an end to dog shows.”

  “And a reconciliation with animal rights groups.”

  “Not a very popular stand to take, considering the audience he was addressing.”

  “And now he’s dead,” I said.

  “Don’t tell me,” said Sam. “You think you ought to find out why.”

  “No, Alana Bennett thinks I ought to find out why.”

  There was a pause while Sam turned away from the phone and spoke to Davey. I heard him promise my son that he could talk next. Then Sam held out the receiver so Faith and her daughter, Eve, could bark hello.

  There are families where this might be considered unusual behavior, but it’s pretty normal for us.

  “What does Alana have to do with anything?” Sam asked when he came back on.

  “She says she was a great admirer of Charles and all that he had accomplished.”

  “Alana likes to spread her admiration around,” said Sam. “In fact, now that I think about it, she and Charles are two of a kind. How is Caroline holding up?”

  “I haven’t seen her since, but Margo says she’s doing okay.”

  “Caroline would. That lady’s strong as hickory. Charles had the big name and the big reputation but there are plenty of people who would tell you that she was the power behind the throne. You want to go outside?”

  I assumed that sudden change of topic was directed at the Poodles, not me. That the guess had been a good one was confirmed when I heard a chorus of happy barking in the background. A moment passed, I heard a door open and shut, then Sam’s attention returned to the conversation.

  “What about the judging scandal you mentioned last time we spoke?” he asked. “Anything interesting happening on that front?”

  “Now that you mention it, not a thing. With everything else that’s been going on, I’d forgotten all about it. It seems like everyone else has too. I haven’t heard a word.”

  “Hey!” I heard Davey cry in the background. “Isn’t it my turn yet?”

  “One more minute,” said Sam. “Listen, whatever you decide to do there, I want you to take good care of yourself.”

  “Is that for Davey or me?” I asked.

  “Both of you,” Sam said with a chuckle. “But especially you. Don’t forget that’s my number two son you’re carrying around.”

  “Son? Don’t tell me that Davey managed to convince you that I’m having a boy?”

  “No, but he hasn’t warmed up to the girl idea yet, so we’re easing into it. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday we pretend you’re having a boy. Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday we talk about the baby as if she’s a girl.”

  I smiled to myself. Trust Sam to come up with a compromise that worked.

  “What about Sundays?” I asked.

  “Twins,” said Sam. “Think of it. One of each.”

  “Bite your tongue. It’s been a while since I did this, but I still remember three a.m. feedings, schlepping a diaper bag everywhere, and spit-up on the shoulder of every dress I owned. I don’t even want to think about doing all that times two.”

  “Yes, but now you’ll have me to handle half the chores—”

  “And me!” Davey cried in the background.

  Sam laughed. “I think your son wants to speak to you.”

  “Of course he does,” I said. “I’m a wonderful mother.”

  “And a paragon among wives. Stay out of trouble, okay?”

  “I’ll try.”

  Unspoken was the rest of that sentiment. I always tried. I just didn’t always succeed.

  “Here’s Davey.”

  “Orlando,” said my son. “Great name, huh?”

  “Orlando Driver?” I couldn’t picture it.

  “What about Shrek?”

  “No.”

  “You could at least consider it before saying no.”

  “I did consider it. We’re not naming your brother”—it was Wednesday after all—“after a green movie monster.”

  “Shrek was cool.”

  “So was King Kong and we’re not going there either.”

  “All right.” Davey sighed. “I’ll keep thinking.”

  “How’s everything else? Are you taking good care of Sam while I’m away?”

  “Everything’s under control here.”

  Coming from a nine-year-old, that line sounded rehearsed.

  “Is there anything going on that I need to know about?” I asked.

  “Nope. But I hope you like blue because we’re painting—”

  “Painting what?” I asked.

  Suddenly Davey was gone and Sam was back.

  “Nothing,” he said into the phone. “Just a little redecorating.”

  “Where?”

  “Nothing for you to worry about.”

  “I wouldn’t worry if you told me what you were doing.”

  “Funny thing about that,” said Sam. “I often feel the same way about you.”

  He had me there.

  “I’ll be careful,” I said.

  We’d covered this ground before, but it bore repeating.

  “If you want me to come,” said Sam, “just say the word.”

  I felt a swift pang of homesickness, a deep-seated longing for my family, my Poodles, my home. He had no idea how tempting the offer was.

  This from a woman who’d always thought of herself as fiercely independent. It had to be hormones.

  “Mel?”

  “Right here,” I said. “I will. Love you.”

  “You too.”

  Over and out.

  I never made it to the second track of seminars either. Instead I fell asleep on the bed and woke up after lunch. At this rate, I was going to be the only symposium participant who went home at the end of the week without learning a single new thing.

  “Good, you’re up,” said Bertie.

  I rolled over and saw her sitting in a chair by the window.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Waiting for you to wake up, what does it look like?”

  I yawned and sat up. The clock next to the bed said it was almost two. “You let me sleep through lunch.”

  “Who cares?” Bertie said with a shrug. “You don’t eat anything anyway.”

  Good point.

  I stood up and pushed my hair back out of my face. “What’d I miss while I was out? Anything important?”

  “Detective Wayne spent the entire morning walking around the inn, asking questions. It’s really weird. People seem to be hanging around, hoping that they’ll be asked to participate. They’re already over being horrified. Now they’re all enjoying the excitement.”

  Bertie paused and grinned. “Oh yeah, and Alana’s pissed at us.”

  “How come?”

  “Because we sicced the detective on her.”

  I contemplated brushing my teeth, then settled for running my tongue over them instead. Sad to say, my standards were definitely dropping.

  “Of course we sicced the detective on her. She told us she was the last person to see Charles alive. What did she expect us to do?”

  “Be impressed, I suppose. Just like everyone else was. Don’t worry, Alana enjoys playing the drama queen. She’ll get over it.”

  Bertie got up, picked up her jacket, and headed for the door. Since she seemed to expect me to, I followed suit.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “Remember that German Shepherd you saw yesterday? Peg’s still determined to hunt h
im down. She planned to go looking for him right after lunch. Except that she wanted you to help and nobody knew where you were. You should have seen the look on Margo’s face when Peg asked if she’d seen you. After what happened to Charles, I think she pictured you lying dead in a ditch somewhere. She nearly had a cow.”

  “I was sleeping,” I pointed out. “Not missing.”

  “That’s what I figured,” said Bertie. “But when you didn’t answer your cell phone…”

  I pulled the darn thing out of my pocket and turned it back on. Yup, I had three missed calls.

  Cell phones are supposed to be a great convenience, but I’ve never grown accustomed to the idea of having to be accessible one hundred percent of the time. Especially not when I was trying to sleep.

  I gazed down at the screen. “Should I listen to Aunt Peg’s messages?”

  “Only if you want to hear a lot of yelling. Me, I’d pass.”

  I hit the delete button without regret.

  “Once I found you here, I called Peg and told her to relax. She’s spent the last hour at a lecture on the diagnosis and management of common genetic disorders….”

  Aunt Peg’s idea of relaxation and everyone else’s are slightly different, can you tell?

  “And she’s set to meet us out on the porch in a few minutes.”

  There was a bowl of fruit on the center table in the lobby. I helped myself to an apple and a banana as we passed by.

  Outside, the air was brisk and refreshing. It quickly cleared the last of the sleep-induced fuzziness from my brain. I was peeling the banana and enjoying the view when Aunt Peg appeared.

  “You look none the worse for wear,” she said.

  “I was sleeping.”

  “You disappeared.”

  “I was in my room.”

  “You might have bothered to check in—”

  “I would have if I’d known that sleeping was against the law.”

  Bertie heaved a sigh and stepped between us. “Stop squabbling. This is going to be the longest pregnancy in history if you two don’t figure out how to manage it better.”

  “Excuse me?” I said. “Aunt Peg is not going to be managing anything, much less—”

  “Quit,” said Bertie.

  She looked as though she wanted to shake both of us. Fortunately she contented herself with giving us a lecture instead.

  “It’s a beautiful day. The sun is shining. The birds are singing. And somewhere around here, a lost dog is looking for a new home. Now, do you want to stand here arguing or do you want to go help him?”

  Point taken.

  Once Aunt Peg had ascertained that Bertie and I both had cell phones that were turned on and functioning, we split up in order to cover more ground. Aunt Peg took the path through the woods where I’d seen the German Shepherd previously. Bertie headed down the long driveway toward the main road. I was told to search the vicinity of the inn itself, a less-taxing assignment that my two cohorts seem to think was appropriate, considering my status as the pregnant one.

  Whatever.

  Aunt Peg disappeared into the thick band of trees. Bertie walked away whistling. I went out and stood in the parking lot. I turned and faced the cluster of low buildings that comprised the resort and contemplated my next move.

  It was the middle of the day. Cars came and went. People hurried by.

  In the eyes of a stray dog, the compound would offer little cover and even less in the way of sanctuary. If I were the Shepherd, this was the last place I would want to be right now. Except…

  It occurred to me that we’d never made it around to the back of the building the night before. And while I had little hope of finding the dog sniffing around the garbage cans now, there was always the possibility that I might run into some of the kitchen staff who could tell me if they’d ever seen the Shepherd in the vicinity.

  The most direct route around the inn took me down the path past the courtyard that housed the hot tub. My footsteps slowed as I approached. I’d expected the entryway through the hedges to be blocked but it wasn’t.

  Curiosity is an affliction. I know I should probably try harder to fight it, but instead I ducked my head through the opening and had a look around. The platform, and the tub upon it, were ringed in yellow tape but the remainder of the area looked surprisingly unchanged.

  I started to withdraw, then abruptly realized that someone was seated on one of the ornamental cedar benches placed at intervals around the alcove. The woman was sitting quietly. She appeared to be totally absorbed in her own thoughts.

  She became aware of my presence about the same time I noticed her. When she looked up, I realized it was Charles’s wife, Caroline.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

  “You’re not intruding.” She managed a wan smile. “It’s public property.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Come,” she said, patting the bench beside her. “Sit for a minute.”

  When I hesitated, she said, “Unless of course you don’t have time.”

  “I have time. I just thought you might want to be alone.”

  “Nobody really wants to be alone, do they?” Caroline asked. “Isn’t that why people get married?”

  “That’s one reason.”

  Caroline scooted over. She was trim and tiny, and barely took up a quarter of the bench. I walked over and sat down beside her.

  “You were one of the people who tried to help Charles last night, weren’t you?” she said. “I’d like to thank you for that.”

  “We did what we could. I’m sorry it wasn’t enough.”

  “Charles was a great admirer of your aunt.”

  “And she of him. Although he managed to surprise her yesterday.”

  As soon as I’d spoken the words, I wished I could recall them. There was no point in rehashing Charles’s unpopular opinions now, not when it was much too late to make any difference. Fortunately Caroline didn’t take offense.

  “Charles liked to keep people on their toes,” she said softly. “He always said that anyone who stops learning new things might as well just stop living.”

  12

  The irony of that comment hit me like a kick in the gut. Or maybe the baby was just doing back flips. Either way, I felt a jolt.

  Considering the circumstances, Caroline seemed remarkably composed. How could she sit there and discuss her husband’s death so calmly?

  “Now I’ve shocked you, haven’t I?” she said.

  “No,” I lied, perhaps not too convincingly.

  Caroline shook her head. “I’ve always believed in facing life head-on. The good, the bad, the challenges, the tragedies. I don’t hide from any of it. Charles would hate the thought of me packing my bags and running away to grieve in solitude. Throw a party, he would have said. Celebrate my life rather than mourning its passing.”

  “He must have been a fascinating man.”

  “He was,” said Caroline. “He was that and more. Charles was my rock, my anchor. And I was his.”

  “What will you do now?”

  She glanced over. “I take it you’re asking short-term?”

  I nodded.

  “Stay here and finish out the symposium, I suppose. Watch the police do their job. Hope they figure out what in hell happened.”

  “You wouldn’t be happier going back home?”

  “Home?” Caroline gave a little laugh. “What is that? People who judge at as many dog shows as Charles and I do spend more time on the road than we ever do at home. We learned a long time ago to make our home wherever we are that week.”

  Oh.

  “Besides,” she said, “the police seem to think that I might make a good suspect. That detective, what’s his name?”

  “Wayne?”

  “That’s the one. He said something about keeping myself available. I was probably supposed to think that was in case they wanted to ask me more questions, but I could guess what he really meant.”

  “It’s not
hing personal,” I said. “Unless there’s a compelling reason to think otherwise, they always look at the spouse first.”

  “Yes, well, here’s a compelling reason for them. I didn’t kill Charles.”

  “I’m sure they’ll figure that out soon enough.”

  “Easy for you to say…” Caroline began. Then she stopped. Her eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute, I just remembered something. You’re the one who—”

  “Shows Poodles,” I filled in quickly.

  “Solves mysteries,” she said instead.

  “Just sometimes,” I told her. “Not lately.”

  “Why not?”

  “Pardon me?”

  “Why not lately? Lack of interest? Opportunities drying up? Well, then this should be just the thing. It must be fate, don’t you think?”

  “No, I—”

  “Karma, kismet, call it what you will. There’s a reason you came to this symposium.”

  Of course there was a reason. And this wasn’t it.

  “I wanted a little vacation, a chance to learn about different breeds…”

  “Don’t be silly. Learning about dogs is a lifetime endeavor. It won’t matter in the slightest if you take a week off to do something else.”

  Something else? She made it sound like I might be going on a picnic instead.

  “I really don’t think—”

  “Yes, you do. Of course you do.”

  Now I was puzzled. “Do what?”

  “Think,” said Caroline. “You must be a good thinker, just like Peg. Intelligence runs in families, you know. It’s the same with dogs. Certain traits are specific to certain breeds.”

  And I’d inherited my nosiness gene from Aunt Peg? Interesting thought. It actually would have been a good guess except for one thing: she and I were only related by marriage.

  “I can see how this could come together quite well,” said Caroline. “All your suspects are currently gathered together in one place. Isn’t that handy?”

  “I’m sure the police think so.”

  “The police,” Caroline scoffed. “What do they know about dogs?”

  I swallowed a laugh. Caroline thought like Aunt Peg. No matter how many times the course of events zigged and zagged, in the end everything important always came back to dogs.

  Except that I was willing to stake my reputation on the fact that no dog had committed this murder.