Doggie Day Care Murder

by Laurien Berenson

  Okay, maybe that was a little rude, but come on. Plenty of people had been at Pine Ridge both days, including probably most of the employees and the clients. So why was my presence, in particular, considered to be suspicious?

  Detective Minton was simply yanking my chain, I suspected. Just because he could.

  “Melanie was here yesterday because I asked her to come,” Alice said quickly. “I asked her to scope out the place because she knows more about dogs than I do and I wanted to be sure that Berkley would be happy here. I mean, I know he’s a Golden Retriever and all, but other than that he’s really like part of the family. Joey and Carly have their own activities now so they don’t care what I do during the day. But if Berkley was going to be miserable all the time I was gone, then maybe I was going to have to rethink the whole job thing, you know?”

  “I see,” said Minton. “I guess that explains it.”

  Either that, or he just wanted to find a way to put an end to the flow of words.

  “One last question. Do either of you have any idea why someone would want Steve Pine dead?”

  “I met him for the first time yesterday,” I said. “And Alice only spoke to him on the phone. We don’t have a clue.”

  It looked like we weren’t the only ones. Detective Minton frowned at our answer and dismissed us.

  Alice and I parted with a heartfelt hug. Then we got in our cars and went home.

  8

  Aunt Peg showed up at our house that afternoon. I swear, sometimes I think she has a police scanner hidden away somewhere. Nobody gets news faster than she does.

  Sam and I were just finishing lunch. Davey, who can scarf down a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in under a minute, had already left the table. He was out on the deck, watching Kevin in his baby swing.

  From what we could hear, the two of them seemed to be engaged in a conversation about cars. Davey was doing most of the talking.

  While he was out of earshot, I’d been bringing Sam up to date on the morning’s events. I was only about halfway through when we heard the doorbell ring, followed almost immediately by the sound of Aunt Peg letting her-self in.

  The Poodles jumped up and raced to the front of the house. A minute later, they were back. Their tails were up, their step jaunty, as they preceded Aunt Peg into the kitchen. They were as proud of themselves as if they’d conjured her out of thin air. Which, come to think of it, maybe they thought they had.

  Aunt Peg passed out peanut butter dog biscuits, and watched in satisfaction as the crew settled down around her feet to chew on the treats. Then she pulled out a chair at the table and sat down.

  “It’s show time,” she announced grandly.

  “Don’t you mean show-and-tell?” I asked.

  “That goes without saying. I can hardly continue Davey’s handling lessons without speaking.”

  “Oh,” I said. “That’s what you were talking about?”

  Sam smirked. I kicked him under the table.

  “Certainly. What else?”

  When I didn’t reply right away, Aunt Peg’s eyes narrowed.

  “Now what?” She glanced outside, saw Davey and Kevin happy together on the deck. “Sam, you’re well?”

  He nodded. He was enjoying this.

  “Faith, Eve, Casey, Raven, Tar?”

  The four female Poodles lifted their heads in turn. Tar just kept eating.

  “I see present company is well accounted for.” Aunt Peg relaxed slightly. “So who died?”

  Talk about cutting straight to the chase.

  “Why do you always assume the worst?” I asked.

  “Because, my dear, around you that usually seems to be a safe assumption. Anybody I know?”

  “Steve Pine,” I admitted.

  “Mr. Doggie Day Care?”

  “The very same. Alice and I had an appointment with him this morning. We were going to ask about dog food and vets on call.”

  “Worthwhile questions,” said Aunt Peg.

  Of course they were. She was the one who’d come up with them.

  “He was dead when you arrived?”

  I nodded.

  “Cause of death?” she asked.

  “He was shot.”

  “Oh my.”

  Aunt Peg’s hand dropped down beside her chair. Her fingers began to stroke the nearest Poodle. In times of stress, there’s nothing like a dog to provide a soothing influence.

  “The police?” she asked.

  “On the scene shortly thereafter. Possibly there still.”

  “It sounds as though your friend Alice had better start looking for other arrangements for Berkley.”

  “That’s all you have to say?”

  She tipped her head inquiringly. “Should there be more?”

  “Don’t you want to know who did it?”

  “Well, if you knew that, why didn’t you say so?”

  “I don’t.”

  “Then why did you ask?”

  Sam had stopped smirking. Now he was grinning.

  “Who’s on first?” he asked.

  Aunt Peg sent him a look. “Now you’re just being silly.”

  Then she sat up again and got down to business. “Let’s recap. Steve Pine, whom you met yesterday, is dead today.”

  I nodded.

  “You don’t know who did it or presumably why.”

  “Right.”

  “Yet you seem to think that I should want to know the answers to these questions?”

  Aunt Peg’s voice rose slightly. Her tone was tinged with just the merest hint of incredulity. I wasn’t having any of it.

  “You always want to know the answers,” I said.

  “I don’t even know these people. Or their dogs,” she added after a slight pause. “Why should I want to get involved in their business?”

  “It’s what you do.”

  “No,” Aunt Peg replied. “Unless I’m very much mistaken, it’s what you do.”

  She was very much mistaken all right.

  But I’m a new mom and my time’s at a premium. I wasn’t about to use any more of it trying to correct her. So I changed the subject instead.

  “Everybody up,” I said to the Poodles. “You heard the lady. It’s show time.”

  Confirming Aunt Peg’s assertion that Davey was enjoying his introduction to handling, my son was delighted to discover that he was going to have another lesson. Even better, a group lesson.

  “We’ve been working solo for several weeks,” said Aunt Peg. “Now it’s time for you to learn how to manage your dog in company.”

  While Sam went and got several show leashes from the hooks hanging in the grooming room, I took a baggie of dried liver out of the freezer and zapped it in the microwave. As soon as the distinctive smell filled the air, the Poodles gathered around. They’d all been show dogs at one time; they knew something was up.

  “I’ll handle Eve.” I slipped the thin nylon noose over her head and tightened it just behind her ears. “Faith, you can sit this one out.”

  As a consolation prize, I snuck the older Poodle a big chunk of liver. She tucked it surreptitiously inside her lip and carried it out to a shady spot in the backyard.

  “I’ll take Tar,” said Sam.

  That was a smart move on his part as it prevented Davey from choosing to handle the big male dog who would probably prove to be too strong for him.

  “What about me?” he asked.

  “I think Raven will suit,” said Aunt Peg. The dainty black bitch had originally been Sam’s, but now, of course, she was part of our blended family. Raven was a sweetheart—smart, willing, and always eager to please. “She should do quite nicely.”

  In no time at all, Aunt Peg had the three of us, and our dogs, lined up in front of her. Kevin, who wasn’t the least bit impressed by the proceedings, had fallen asleep in his swing. Casey stayed behind on the deck to watch over him while the rest of us moved out into the spacious backyard.

  At one point in her life, Peg had been the consummate exhibitor
. She’d spent nearly every weekend on the road, traveling to show her Poodles. But more recently she’d turned her talents toward judging, rather than exhibiting. She was now approved to judge all the breeds in both the Non-Sporting and Toy groups.

  For obvious reasons, I had never shown under Aunt Peg myself. But I had watched her judge on many occasions, and she took her duties very seriously. Peg was a fair, but demanding, taskmaster in the show ring. And any thoughts I might have entertained about her lowering her expectations for Davey’s sake were rapidly dispelled.

  “Sam, I want you in front,” she said. “Melanie second. Davey, you’ll bring up the rear for now. Keep an eye on what those in front of you are doing and try to follow suit.”

  “I thought I was supposed to be watching my dog,” said Davey. “That’s what you told me before.”

  He already had Raven posed four-square in a reasonably creditable stack, and the little bitch was cooperating beautifully. I made a mental note to slip her an extra treat when we were finished.

  “You have two eyes, don’t you?” Aunt Peg said tartly. “Do both at the same time. Nobody told you this was going to be easy.”

  A giggle from the end of the line signaled that Davey wasn’t upset by Aunt Peg’s sharp tone. At his age, I’d have probably wilted. Hell, there are still times when Peg manages to intimidate me. Not Davey; he calmly returned to working with his dog.

  Aunt Peg braced her feet apart, crossed her arms over her chest, and stood and stared at us for a minute. Her eyes moved slowly down the line.

  Tar had retired from the show ring only recently; Sam was free-baiting him—standing off in front and letting the dog show himself. Eve was a little rusty. I set her feet where I wanted them, then used one of my hands to support her head, the other to lift her tail. Davey maneuvered Raven into position, then checked to see what I was doing with my hands and did the same with his. Good boy.

  Still maintaining her silence, Aunt Peg approached the front of the line. Sam stepped back to Tar’s side, balled his leash up in his hand, and prepared to show his dog to the judge. Aunt Peg leaned down and placed her hands on the Poodle’s head.

  Her eyes never leaving the Poodle in front of her, she said, “Davey, what are you doing?”

  “Just standing here.”

  “Wrong answer.”

  Davey thought for a moment before trying again. “I’m making Raven look good.”

  “Still wrong.”

  “No, it’s not.” He sounded surprised. “I’m a dog handler. That’s what I’m supposed to do.”

  Aunt Peg straightened and stepped back. “Before when we practiced, you were by yourself. If a situation like that were to occur in the ring, you would have the judge’s undivided attention. In a class of one, you would be in the ring for a relatively short amount of time and you would be expected to work your dog the entire time you were there.”

  “Okay.” Davey reached down and gave Raven a pat. “I can do that.”

  “But this is an entirely different situation. Now you have competition.”

  My son sent a cheeky grin down the line. “I’m not scared.”

  “Let me approach this another way,” said Aunt Peg. “Which takes longer to judge, a class with one dog in it or a class that has three dogs?”

  Davey stopped and thought before answering. I could tell he suspected a trap.

  “I guess the one with three dogs,” he said finally.

  “Correct. Now what if you had a class with six dogs in it or even ten?”

  “Longer still?”

  “Correct again,” said Aunt Peg. “And in those larger classes, the judge won’t be able to pay attention to everyone at once. Knowing that, a smart handler will give his dog a break whenever he gets the chance. If you make Raven keep posing now while I’m looking at Tar, and then still while I’m looking at Eve, the end result is that she’s going to be tired and bored by the time I approach her. When it’s your turn for the individual examination, you want to show the judge a dog that’s fresh and eager, not one that felt that way five minutes ago.”

  “Okay,” said Davey. “How do I do that?”

  While Sam and I maintained our positions, Aunt Peg showed Davey how to let Raven fall back out of line and relax.

  “Keep her attention,” she instructed. “You don’t want her sniffing the ground or dropping her tail. Use your squeaky toy. Let her play a bit.”

  “Can she sit down?”

  “No!” Three voices cried in unison.

  Poodles never, under any circumstances, sit down once the elaborate show ring hairdo has been banded and sprayed into place. A movement like that would pull apart the topline and totally destroy their distinctive look.

  “Sheesh,” said Davey. “Don’t shoot me or anything. I was just asking.”

  The lesson continued and Aunt Peg spared no effort to put us through our paces. Davey was pleased to note that she criticized my handling technique every bit as harshly as she picked apart his own. I was not nearly as amused.

  After the first go-round, Aunt Peg had Davey move to the front of the line. A short while after that, she placed him in the middle. And each time she adjusted his technique to suit his new position.

  Davey worked and laughed and scrambled to keep up with her rapid-fire instructions. Even Sam and I found ourselves hustling. Aunt Peg’s sharp eyes missed nothing, even when she appeared to be facing in the opposite direction. The three Poodles, remembering how much fun they’d had in the show ring, got into the spirit of the exercise and began to show themselves off as well.

  Finally, half an hour later, Aunt Peg made her final cut. By that time, I was flushed and out of breath. Kevin was beginning to stir in his swing.

  Aunt Peg lifted her arm dramatically. One might have thought she was anointing Best in Show at Westminster. She pointed to Sam and Tar for first place. Davey and Raven came in second. Eve and I brought up the rear.

  Davey wasn’t happy with the results. He pushed out his lower lip.

  “I wanted to win,” he said.

  Aunt Peg wasn’t having any of it.

  “You didn’t deserve to win,” she told him. “At least not today. With more work on your part, that could change. In time, with practice, you might be as good a handler as Sam.”

  Davey shot me a sly look. He made it perfectly obvious that he had to look back over his shoulder to do so.

  “I’m already better than Mom.”

  “Hey!” I cried. “No fair. I’m a little out of practice.”

  “Your technique needs working on,” said Aunt Peg.

  “I’m rusty.”

  “You’ve let yourself get careless. You can do better.”

  Like I’d never heard that from Aunt Peg before.

  Up on the deck, Kevin’s swing had stopped moving. The baby opened his eyes and looked around. Then he gave an experimental wail. Casey quickly sat up and pushed her warm nose into his small hand. Immediate response, canine style.

  I handed Eve’s leash to Sam and went to pick up the baby. Kevin’s diaper needed changing, and after that he’d be ready to eat again. I was finished handling for the day.

  “There’s a dog show at the end of the month,” Aunt Peg mentioned casually.

  I’d been on my way inside the house. Now I stopped and turned around. Even Aunt Peg’s most offhand comments usually have an ulterior motive.

  “There’s a dog show at the end of every month,” I said.

  You know, just to goad her. That comment about my being careless was really uncalled for. Even if it was true.

  “I was thinking we might put in an entry,” said Peg.

  Davey’s head jerked up. His gaze spun back and forth between us. Even from across the yard, his excitement was palpable. How could I ever have doubted that this was something he wanted to do?

  “For me?” he asked.

  “For you and Custer in the Novice Junior Class,” Aunt Peg confirmed. “Think you can be ready by then?”

  “I’m re
ady now!”

  “Not quite,” Sam said with a smile. “But we like your enthusiasm. And that gives us three more weeks to work on things.”

  “Great!” cried Davey. Then he looked back at me, holding the new baby in my arms. “But what about Kevin? He keeps you guys pretty busy.”

  “Are you kidding?” I asked. “Kevin’s going to come with us to the dog show and watch you handle Custer in your class. Think how proud he’s going to be of his older brother.”

  “You mean me?”

  I walked back out to the yard, leaned down, and gathered Davey into a hug so that I had both my sons encircled in my arms. Davey squirmed as I knew he would; he’s at that age where mothers are an embarrassment. Kevin laughed and tried to grab his brother’s nose.

  “Of course I mean you,” I said, stepping back and disentangling the two boys. “Kevin’s just a baby, he doesn’t know anything yet. He’s going to learn lots of things by watching you. So you’re going to have to be sure to set a good example.”

  “I’ll try,” Davey said solemnly.

  “I know you will. I’m counting on you.” I looked over at Aunt Peg. “Go ahead and send in the entry. We’ll be there with bells on.”

  “Aww, Mom,” cried Davey. “That’s not fair. Can’t I just use a leash like all the other kids?”

  9

  “Guess what?” said Alice, two days later.

  I was out in the yard, weeding our fledgling vegetable garden, when my cell phone rang. Truth be told, I’m not much of a gardener. This was my first attempt to grow something that people might actually be expected to eat.

  Having a baby had ramped up my nesting instincts and this was the result. So far, however, I wasn’t sure whether my weed-pulling was helping or hindering the tomatoes I was trying to grow. So frankly, I was perfectly happy to be interrupted.

  I removed my gardening gloves and sat down in the grass. With luck, this might take a while.

  “Candy Pine called me,” Alice said. “Apparently she’s been touching base with all the Pine Ridge clients after . . . you know, what happened. She wanted to assure me that business is going to proceed as usual at Pine Ridge and that I shouldn’t make any other dog care arrangements for Berkley.”