Groomed for Murder (Going to the Dogs)

by Dawson, Zoe

  The attendant entered the room beaming, followed by another woman pushing a rack of frothy white lace, buttons, and bows. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

  Everyone settled themselves for the fashion show, and, in the silence, the loud pop as Poe uncorked the second champagne bottle made Brooke jump nervously. She shook her head and firmed her lips. The edginess she was feeling would pass. All she had to do was get out of her head and stop worrying about Pawlish. Everyone chuckled at Poe’s noisy reminder that it was time for fun, and Brooke laughed along with them. “Yes, let’s get this party started,” she said.

  “Oh. My. God. Brooke! These bacon and mushroom mini-quiches are rockin’. I think bacon should be in the periodic table. It’s so good.” Poe said with a smirk.

  “Like an element?” Brooke asked.

  “Yes!” Poe nodded vigorously. “I can see the description now. Bacon with the symbol Bn is a meat product derived from the back of the pig where the leaner meat is found, which gives you a slice that is 85% meat and 15% fat. Due to popular demand, it has replaced hydrogen in the number one slot on the Periodic Table. When it is cooked, it gives off a sweet, tasty aroma. The reaction to bacon is pronounced. Saliva forms and causes Homo sapiens to engage in ‘grabbing-the-last-piece’ syndrome.”

  Mirth bubbled up from her diaphragm as all her friends, Callie’s mother, and even the attendants burst into laughter.

  Poe giggled. “But instead of atomic power it would have to be pig power.”

  “To what degree?” Callie asked between giggles.

  “The tenth!”

  “I have to agree with Poe,” Callie said, holding her sides and laughing through her tears. “Bacon is so good it should have been a subject in school.”

  Poe nodded, unable to contain her enthusiasm. “I’d definitely teach that class. Bacon 101 or Baconology.”

  “Well, if you’re going to those lengths, I want an honorary degree in bacon.” Harper chimed in.

  “Nice, a doctorate in bacon! And all I have is this darn DVM degree!”

  “You are crazy, Poe. Are you sure you should be doing surgery on animals?” Harper said, her words rippling with laughter.

  “I’m very vet-like at St. Mark’s,” she replied, struggling to keep a straight face.

  “You have to be. The dogs can’t talk back,” Brooke said.

  “No, but I’m sure they’re laughing inside.”

  The room erupted again in peals of laughter.

  “Bacon is no joke. In fact, I’m sure if a zombie was chasing you, and you had bacon on you, you could throw it like a stick and they’d chase the bacon instead of you.” Poe took another bite of the mini-quiche.

  Harper raised a brow. “Poe, if a zombie was chasing me, I’d just trip you.”

  “Oh, that would be okay! I would have bacon.”

  Harper grabbed Poe around the neck and said, “You are such a nerd.”

  Poe wrinkled up her nose, and said, “Come over to the dork side. We have Pi.”

  By then Brooke was holding her sides and could barely catch her breath. Suddenly everything was all right again.

  Thirty minutes into the fitting Callie had rejected every single one of the gowns the attendant had selected. Brooke hadn’t noticed that Harper had disappeared until she returned with a dress in her arms.

  “Callie,” she said softly, “try this one on.”

  Callie turned toward Harper, and her audible gasp as she saw the gown made everyone sit up with interest.

  As the lace-covered satin slipped over her daughter’s head and flowed down her body, Kate covered her mouth, and Brooke’s heart lurched. What she wouldn’t give to have her own mother look at her like Kate was looking at Callie now. Love shone out of her eyes, glassy with tears. Brooke just knew that Callie’s mother was thinking about Callie as a little girl, her memories reflected in her eyes, Callie growing from a skinned-kneed tomboy into a beautiful woman with a spitfire edge.

  And then her throat tightened and that same embarrassing well of emotion hit her so hard she had to blink rapidly to hold off the tears. Callie took her breath away. Oh, God, she wanted to get married someday and look as stunning as Callie did right this minute.

  Harper just smiled and nodded.

  The mermaid dress fit her to a T. An understated satin ribbon cinched the waist and ended in a simple bow that rode atop a series of buttons ending right at the flair of a short, sassy train. The square, modest neckline accentuated the off-the-shoulder chain of lace straps which added just the right touch of romance.

  Brooke rose abruptly, blinking away tears as she excused herself and left the room. In the bathroom, she closed herself in the stall and leaned back against the door. Her fists clenched, her stomach in turmoil, she fought the feelings she couldn’t name. Change was good, and Owen was good for Callie. Their love shone like a beacon. It was wonderful to watch and hope that love like that would find her. It took her only a few moments to get herself under control, since she was eager to get back. This day was about Callie, not about her.

  When she came out of the stall, Harper was leaning against the sink, her arms folded across her chest.

  Brooke stopped and her face flamed.

  “What gives?”

  “What do you mean?” Brooke walked nonchalantly towards the sink and washed her hands as Harper’s eyes bored a hole in her back.

  “You look exhausted and in unguarded moments…worried. You’re always the one to nurture us and be the top cheerleader.”

  “I’ve had a rough week.”

  “Are you sure that’s all it is? Sweetie, we want to know when something is bothering you.”

  Brooke had no intention of burdening Harper with her business problems. She’d handled Kristen Wright-Davis and her spoiled dog. It was done. Resolved. “I’ll be fine after some sleep and a little TLC.”

  Harper snorted. “When have you ever taken time for yourself? I swear, Brooke. You do too much for too many people.”

  “Look who’s talking. You do plenty for others.”

  “Yes, but I don’t own a business. I just sponge off my family’s wealth.”

  Brooke laughed, warmth settling in the pit of her stomach. Thank God for Harper’s bluntness. “It’s my thing, and it makes me happy.”

  “I would just like to see you taking care of yourself. Be a little selfish. It won’t be the end of the world.”

  “You mean the zombie apocalypse?”

  Harper laughed. Then sobered. “No joke. I mean it.”

  “I’ll think about it. Enough about me. Now let’s get back to Callie. And that dress is sensational. You just know what works best, don’t you?”

  “It’s a gift,” came the smug—and oh, so correct!—reply.

  Back in the salon with her emotions firmly in check, Brooke ooohed and aaahhhhed over Callie’s dress. It was simply gorgeous. She also participated in chatter about what would fit best for a headdress. They left Stunning to continue the conversation over lunch at one of their favorite places, a quaint bistro named Habit, which happened to be directly across the street. After they pulled two tables together, the women settled down on the wooden chairs.

  Judging it the perfect moment, Brooke produced Callie’s gift and, with a flourish, presented it to her.

  “Prezzies! After all you’ve done today, I don’t need gifts, but it’s much appreciated. Thank you, Brooke.”

  “Open it. The suspense is killing me,” Brooke said.

  Callie carefully removed the ribbon, placed it aside, and tore into the paper. She gasped when she pulled out the book. “Oh, my God. This is just what I needed! I’m so lost when it comes to wedding planning. Look at all the great stuff in here. This must have taken you forever. No wonder you look so tired. Oh, shoot, I mean, you look great as always, so pulled together…but…you know, you do look a bit tired, and frayed around the edges.”

  “All I need is a good night’s sleep,” Brooke dismissed Callie’s worry with a shrug. “And I was having so much
fun putting this together last night I almost forgot to sleep. I pulled pictures from bridal, lifestyle, fashion, gardening, design, and food magazines and also found a great app we can all use to link up our ideas. All the information I gathered is in the app, too, so you can make a decision on the spot. Just let me know if you like it. I even found a great travel agent on Times Square that we can visit for honeymoon ideas. I made an appointment for two o’clock in case you like the idea.”

  “That’s a good place to start. I can get some brochures. Although I think Owen wants to surprise me.”

  “Now, about the headpiece,” Harper said. “I think a veil would detract from the simple, clean style of the gown.”

  Callie’s mother nodded. “I totally agree.”

  “I have a hairdresser who is phenomenal and can weave real flowers into your hair. You can pick what you personally like along with either lace or ribbon for a stunning look. What do you think?”

  Callie sighed with relief. “That’s perfect, Harper. I can’t see myself in a veil or tiara. It’s just not me, but flowers would fit perfectly.”

  “Good. Let’s eat.”

  They ordered food and passed it around, although once it arrived, Brooke discovered that she lacked an appetite. After paying the bill, Callie touched Brooke’s shoulder while the party started to break up. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Brooke flashed a smile to hide her sudden sense of disconnection from her best friends. “Of course I’m fine. One of my best friends is getting married to the man of her dreams. My business is evolving into a one-stop spa for pets and their owners to make my clients feel even more pampered.”

  “I’m more interested in how you feel, Brooke. You do too much for people, and I can see it’s taking its toll. I think you need to change some things in your life so you can have more time for yourself. Have the courage to change.”

  “She doesn’t want to change,” Poe said, “or she’s too afraid to.”

  Dismissing Poe’s very astute observation, Brooke insisted, “I told you. I’m just fine.”

  Harper, Poe, and Callie’s mother had to run, so Brooke and Callie hailed a cab to Times Square.

  “Thank you for the wedding planning ideas. You did that for my mom, right?” Callie said.

  “Yes, actually. I knew you would love the app, but your mom is more old-fashioned.”

  “You’re so thoughtful.”

  At Times Square Brooke paid the fare, but when she stepped out of the cab, she collided with Callie. “Callie, what…” Callie was looking up and Brooke followed the direction of her gaze. Suddenly dizzy, she stared in shock at one of the huge Times Square digital screens. It was broadcasting a local pet psychic show featuring none other than her nemesis.

  Kristen Wright-Davis sat next to Trudy Sommers, and her teary voice wobbled out of the loudspeakers. Mimi reclined in her lap, all the worst parts of the poodle’s cut emphasized on a grand scale. “I’m so distraught for my baby,” Kristen sniffled theatrically.

  Brooke’s stomach twisted into hard knots. This kind of publicity could ruin her.

  “Hello, everyone. I’m Trudy Sommers. Please welcome Kristin Wright-Davis and her toy poodle Mimi. They’re joining us today on Pet Speak because Mimi seems to be out of sorts. I sense she’s upset over a recent trip to the groomer.”

  “Yes, she was just at Pawlish two days ago, that cut-rate place. They were callous and unkind to my darling sweetheart.” Kristen’s baby talk to Mimi grated on Brooke’s nerves like the shriek of a siren. The dog licked Kristen’s face.

  “Cut rate?” Callie exploded. “I’ll shave that damn dog bald. How dare she go on TV and defame your business! I think you should sue that witch for slander!”

  Instead of anger at Kristen’s malicious behavior, a confident calm settle over her. She could smooth this over. It would just be a matter of talking to Kristen to encourage her to see reason. This was grim, and certainly not good for her business, but it could be fixed. The longer the woman blubbered, the more Brooke was sure she could be convinced to see it Brooke’s way. She just needed to know she mattered.

  “Mimi’s telling me she is mortified by the terrible cut she got there, and I’d say it would be best if she got some therapy.”

  “Kristen Wright-Davis,” Callie snarled it like a four-letter word. “She’s consulting a pet psychic? I don’t need a psychic to tell me the woman is nothing but a con. But, of course that pretentious, narcissistic bitch would choose to go on TV to defame your business.”

  “I’m getting something else,” the pet psychic said as she gazed at the dog. “She thinks the owner of the place where she got her bad trim should be punished.”

  “She does?” Kristen cooed. “What a clever girl. What does she think is a good punishment?”

  Punishment? As if she’d done one thing wrong! Kristen would never accept the blame, and now something dreadful was about to happen. It was coming, bearing down on her like a speeding train. She clutched her stomach, the terrible feeling there spreading like a disease. In another second or two everything was going to change, and nothing in her world would ever be the same again.

  “A lawsuit.”

  “Yes,” Kristen said, snuggling the dog up to her face. “I am going to sue Brooke Palmer for everything she’s got.”

  Chapter Two

  Drew mercilessly smashed the round, black ball with ruthless precision, placing the shot perfectly on the squash court. That bastard Kevin Jensen had to really scramble to return it. No way was he losing this game. That corner office was his. He’d worked sixty to eighty hours a week since he’d landed this job.

  The carefully executed ploy worked perfectly, and Kevin was thoroughly knocked off the T, far away from the prime spot on the court to wait for the next serve. With a triumphant shout, Drew smashed the ball past Kevin’s reach, but well within the court, and won the match. He pumped his first in victory.

  He’d never played squash against Kevin, but in their firm of Wright-Davis, Benson and Carey, Kevin was his only competition for the coveted partner slot that had recently become available.

  When their boss, Roger Wright-Davis, had called Drew at the crack of dawn and told him to get his ass-kicking clothes on, Drew had been groggy and confused until he learned that he and Kevin would be competing for a case on the squash court. It was unorthodox, but Drew wasn’t going to argue. When one of the partners called and told him to appear, he didn’t keep him waiting. Wright-Davis was the founder of the company and the head honcho. Drew didn’t know what case was on the line, but as the top billable lawyer in Mergers and Acquisitions, Drew was sure it would be worth a hefty chunk of bonus money.

  The fast track wasn’t for wimps and complainers. All he had to do was keep impressing the partners. And he’d just beat out his stiffest competition. He grinned at Kevin as they shook hands.

  “Way to dominate the T, Hudson, you bastard,” Kevin growled. He took the loss in stride and exited the court with a salute of his racket. Roger waited outside, sitting on one of the benches people used to wait for an open court.

  Drew grabbed up a towel from his gym bag and mopped his face.

  “Good job, Hudson. You are my top billable guy.”

  Drew nodded as his breathing got back to normal. “What is this case, anyway?”

  “First of all, I need your word that none of this information makes it to the public or will be mentioned around the office.”

  “You have my word.” Drew was vibrating with anticipation.

  “I want you to get Brooke Palmer of Pawlish to settle out of court.”

  “Polish?” Was Roger speaking gibberish?

  Roger lifted his hand and waggled it in explanation. “No, Pawlish. You know, as in dog paw? It’s a dog grooming salon my wife used to frequent until that damn toy poodle of hers got a bad cut and had to get therapy. If you ask me, she’s just pissed because the Palmer woman refused to put up with her crap.”

  “Dog therapy? She’s suing a dog grooming salon
? Why?” Had he heard this right? From the look on Roger’s face, he had. This is the case Roger was assigning him? His hand fisted on the soft terry of the towel, heat forming in the pit of his stomach, tightening his chest. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a joke. He’d worked his ass off for the firm, and to be assigned a small-potatoes case against a dog salon was insulting.

  “Well, the dog was slated for competition, and one of the employees at the place botched the cut. I can’t blame the poor girl. That is one annoying, spoiled, fidgety dog.”

  “But you intend to go through with this suit.” Drew was hoping Roger would say, “Ha ha, just kidding,” and give him the real case.

  “Don’t look at me like that. You’re not married, so you wouldn’t understand. Kristen won’t let this drop until she gets what she wants. I tried to talk her out of it. She wants this woman ruined. But I do not want this to go to court. It’s embarrassing enough that we’re even filing this, especially since that TV show broadcast it all over freaking Times Square.”

  Roger really intended to pull him off multi-million dollar mergers to handle a suit against a dog salon. And what the hell was a dog salon anyway? “If I’m successful, I get the partnership. What if I’m not successful?”

  “I don’t like failure. Figure out a strategy and get it done.”

  “It’s a slam dunk.”

  “Make it so.”

  “Who gave her the idea to sue in the first place?”

  Roger snorted and rose. “A dog psychic. Now, hit the showers and get to work.”

  On his way to the showers, Drew shook his head at the ridiculousness of this assignment. Dog psychics and traumatized poodles. Jeez-us. His phone rang. He fished it out of his bag and answered.

  “Hello, big brother.”

  He smiled, suddenly feeling lighter. “Emma. Hey, kid,” he said his voice softening. “How have you been? How’s school?”