Doggie Day Care Murder

by Laurien Berenson

  “Do what?”

  Okay, not a terribly articulate question but my mouth was full. As soon as I finished my sandwich, I could get to those candies.

  “How much do you know about the staff and clients at Pine Ridge?” asked Aunt Peg. “Those are people whom Steve Pine spent most of his time with.”

  “Not much,” I admitted. “Mostly just what Candy told me.”

  “Then you’ve got some work to do. You want to find out what makes that operation tick without anybody realizing that you’re spying on them. What if Candy Pine pretended to hire you?”

  “To do what?” This time the Sarah Bernhardts weren’t to blame. Just complete and utter lack of comprehension.

  “Let me think. There must be something she could pass you off as for a day or two, while you nose around.”

  “A consultant,” Sam suggested. “Looking for ways to cut costs and trim down the business now that Steve’s gone.”

  Aunt Peg shook her head. “Too adversarial. We want people to confide in Melanie, not fear for their jobs when she’s around.”

  “What about a dog psychologist?” I said. “Maybe Candy could say she was bringing me in to work with some of their problem clients.”

  Aunt Peg shot me one of her looks. You know what I mean.

  “Do you honestly think you could pull that off?”

  “For a day or two, I don’t see why not.”

  She was unconvinced. “Let’s not get you in over your head before you’re even started. There must be something simple, something easy.... What about a web site?”

  “Pine Ridge already has one.”

  “That works. Candy could tell everyone that now that things have changed, she wants to do an overhaul. You’ll be designing the new web site, but first you want to walk around for a day or two and get a feel for the place.”

  “Perfect,” said Sam.

  Was he nuts?

  “Perfect except for the fact that I haven’t even the slightest clue about web site design,” I said.

  Trust me on this. Using Google was my idea of higher learning when it came to web-related activities.

  “You can finesse that part pretty easily,” said Sam. “After all, nobody is going to expect you to do any work right there. And it does give you a great excuse for being there and looking around.”

  Now I was the one who was unconvinced. It didn’t do me any good, however, since I was also outvoted.

  “If I’m going to be doing that,” I told him, “then you’ll have to keep an eye on Kevin for a couple of days.”

  “I can help,” said Aunt Peg.

  With everyone in agreement on the home front, I called Candy and ran the idea past her. She hopped on board enthusiastically and asked how soon I could start. So there we had it.

  Undercover it was.

  “I thought you had, like, a dog,” said Madison.

  Teenage grammar, it was a marvel.

  I was tempted to ask Madison what she meant by like a dog. A cat? Maybe a squirrel? But I was supposed to be making friends and ferreting out information, so I refrained.

  It was early Monday morning and I was back at Pine Ridge, presumably as an observer of the everyday operation. At least that was the brief explanation Candy had offered before leaving me to wander around on my own.

  Now I was out in the front office watching clients drop their dogs off for the day. It wasn’t hard to see that there was considerably less activity than there had been during the same time the previous week. Before Steve’s murder had changed everything.

  Today, there was no line of customers waiting to check in, and Madison wasn’t working nonstop. She had plenty of time to shoot me curious glances.

  Clearly, she was wondering what I was doing there. Not only that, but she was a little annoyed by my presence.

  Which, frankly, was one reason why I’d remained in the front office, rather than leaving to check out the rest of the facility. The fact that Madison was suspicious of my motives was enough to make me wonder about hers.

  “I do have a dog,” I replied. “Actually, I have five.”

  “And you also design web sites?”

  “Why not?” I tried out a cheery smile. “Everybody’s got to do something, right?”

  “I suppose. But . . .”

  I waited for her to continue. She didn’t. Madison had stopped looking at me too. Instead, she seemed riveted by the empty countertop.

  “But what?” I asked finally.

  “The old web site is fine. I don’t see why it needs updating.”

  “That was Candy’s decision,” I said. “I’m just helping her out.”

  “It isn’t fair.”

  “What isn’t?”

  Madison’s eyes lifted. “She’s cutting Steve out. That’s what this is really about, isn’t it? She wants to erase him from the web site like he was never here.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “It doesn’t matter what you think,” she said. “You don’t know.”

  “Then tell me.”

  Her narrow shoulders rose and fell, a hopeless gesture. Steve had been gone less than a week and his loss was keenly felt. His absence left a large hole in the Pine Ridge community. Candy might have insisted on business as usual, but she couldn’t mandate her employees’ emotions to match.

  “It doesn’t matter now,” Madison said unhappily.

  “I’d still like to know.”

  “She was jealous of him.”

  “Candy?”

  Madison’s expression went blank. She was tuning me out.

  “See? That’s what I thought. You don’t get it. Never mind.”

  I gave myself a mental kick. I’m a teacher, I’m used to dealing with kids. I know what they’re like—vulnerable, emotional, mercurial in their moods. I should be doing better than this.

  “Give me a chance,” I said. “I’m new around here. I don’t know how everything works. Or how it worked before. That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Maybe you could help me.”

  “Maybe I already have a job.”

  She was all attitude now. Prickly and defensive. Still, I was betting that Madison wanted to explain, to tell me her side. Otherwise, what were we doing here?

  I glanced over my shoulder, looked out the front windows, and didn’t see any cars pulling in. Good. That gave me some time.

  I leaned on the counter, closing the space between us and forcing Madison to acknowledge my presence. “Why was Candy jealous of Steve?”

  “Because he was cool and she isn’t,” she said. “All you had to do was look at the two of them and you’d know that.”

  One look at Steve Pine, and you’d know that he was a teenage girl’s fantasy. Candy had admitted that Steve liked to fool around with the clients. I wondered whether his flirting had carried over to the staff as well.

  “I never had a chance to get to really know Steve,” I said. “But from what I saw, he seemed like a nice guy.”

  “He was more than just a nice guy. He was smart; he was fun. He was a great boss. He wasn’t always checking up on us to make sure we were working hard enough.”

  As I supposed—reading between the lines—Candy did.

  “He understood that there was more to life than just slaving away at your job all the time. Like people might have outside interests. Or friends they need to talk to.”

  Madison pursed her lips in exasperation. “Candy makes us turn off our cell phones during work hours. Like she thinks anyone would actually do that, just because she says so. I put mine on vibrate and she never even knows. That was the difference between them. Everybody liked Steve. Steve got it.”

  At least it had appeared that way to Madison. Though she’d obviously missed out on one salient point. Not everybody had liked Steve.

  “I guess you must have been pretty shocked by what happened.”

  “Well, like, yeah. Who would want to do something like that, especially to such a nice guy?”

  “Do you have any ideas?”<
br />
  Madison tipped her head to one side. “If I did—and I’m not saying I do—why would I tell you?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t even know you, for one thing.”

  “Would you tell the police?” I asked.

  “Not if I could help it. Talking to the police is so not my thing.”

  “But they did ask you questions.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything.” Madison was on the defensive again. “They questioned everybody who was here.”

  “I know,” I said. “They talked to me too. Did you tell the detective about Candy being jealous of Steve?”

  “What? And lose my job? I don’t think so.” Her eyes narrowed. “And you better not tell her either. If you do, I’ll just deny ever saying it. I’ll tell her you’re a liar.”

  Good going, Mel. How to make friends and influence people.

  Madison looked past me and out the windows. I turned and saw a silver-and-black Hummer pulling into a double-wide parking space.

  A man I’d met briefly the week before got out of the vehicle. I couldn’t recall his name, but when an Airedale hopped out after him I remembered that the dog’s name was Logan.

  It figured. If I didn’t watch myself I’d turn into Aunt Peg.

  “Looks like you have to go back to work,” I said.

  Madison was already pulling out a large index card from a stack on the counter. Roger Cavanaugh, I read across the top. That sounded right.

  “We love Logan,” Madison crooned as the door opened. She stepped out from behind the counter and leaned down to greet the new arrival. “He’s our number one client. You’ve been here since the very beginning, haven’t you, boy? We’re always happy when you show up.”

  Since Logan and Roger were the first clients to receive such an effusive welcome, I assumed the display was for my benefit. Madison was telling me that we were through talking.

  That was fine by me. The day was just beginning and I had plenty of other people to see.

  12

  Candy had invited me to make myself at home at the day care center, so I did.

  Leaving Madison to her job, I walked down the back hallway, passing both executive offices. Candy’s door was open. She wasn’t inside, but Winston was. The Corgi was blissfully asleep on his corner chair, his little legs paddling in the air and keeping time with his dreams.

  The door to Steve’s office was still firmly shut. I hesitated briefly, then kept walking. Eventually I was going to want to go in there, but I didn’t need to do so just yet.

  Heading out the back door, I bypassed the paddocks—all of them still empty this early in the morning—and strode down the path to the Dog House. Inside, only about half the individual rooms were in use.

  The playrooms were similarly empty, save for a pair of employees. Two young women, both dressed in the Pine Ridge uniform, were standing just inside a doorway, talking and giggling as I passed by. It sounded as though they were comparing notes on how drunk each of them had been the night before. Aside from glancing briefly in my direction, neither paid any attention to me.

  I wondered if the two were slacking off, or whether there wasn’t anything for them to do. I also wondered whether Candy was going to have to start laying off staff if business didn’t start to pick up again soon.

  As I’d hoped, Bailey was in the grooming room at the end of the hall. I pushed open the frosted glass door and slipped inside, being careful not to let out a fluffy white American Eskimo dog that was racing in dizzying circles around the linoleum floor.

  Bailey was arranging some grooming supplies—clippers, scissors, a wide tooth comb—on a towel on the counter that ran along the back wall. She looked up when the door opened and offered me a shy half smile.

  “Don’t mind Pepper,” she said, as the Eskie misjudged a turn and skidded into my legs, then bounced off and kept going. “He looks wild, but once he uses up some of his excess energy, he’s really very friendly.”

  “Don’t worry, he doesn’t bother me a bit.”

  I stooped down and held out a hand. A wet black nose brushed my fingers briefly as the dog sped by again.

  “Can I help you with something?” asked Bailey.

  “I’m Melanie. We met last week?”

  “Oh. Sure.”

  She sounded anything but sure. I tried again.

  “My husband and I show Standard Poodles. You told me how much you’d like to try that yourself someday?”

  “That’s right, now I remember. Sorry, I meet a lot of clients here and I don’t always pay that much attention.” Her cheeks colored, the blush slipping up over her fair skin. “No, I mean I do pay attention, but mostly to the dogs not the people. You know?”

  I nodded. “You pay attention to what’s important. And I didn’t have a dog with me when I was here before.”

  “You don’t have one now either,” Bailey pointed out.

  She leaned down and held her arms open wide. Pepper abruptly changed course and charged toward her. As dog and woman collided, Bailey straightened, scooping the Eskie up into her arms and depositing him on a nearby rubber-topped grooming table.

  The maneuver was neatly done, and Pepper landed on his feet with his tail wagging. His pink tongue brushed a kiss across Bailey’s chin before she reached around behind her and picked up a pin brush.

  Some people have an affinity for animals and some people just don’t. Bailey might not be entirely comfortable with me, but her rapport with Pepper was obvious. I’d trust her with one of my Poodles any day.

  “I’m not here as a client,” I said. “Candy’s going to be updating the Pine Ridge web site and I’m going to work on the design. So I’m here as an observer to get ideas. Do you mind if I watch you work?”

  “Suit yourself. Though it’s probably going to be pretty boring.”

  “Been there, done that.” I hiked myself up onto another grooming table and settled in to chat. “I have Poodles.”

  “I envy you that,” said Bailey.

  She separated the Eskie’s coat and began to brush. Work like that could be done by rote: the fingers busy, but the brain a million miles away.

  “I’ve always wanted to try my hand at a continental trim, but we don’t get too many Poodles here. Mostly they’re the little ones and the owners just want something clean and fluffy, or else a Royal Dutch.”

  “Easier than the continental, though. Trust me, you’d change your mind up if you had to show them.”

  Thanks to the fact that we had dogs in common, Bailey was losing her reserve. “Yeah,” she said with a smile, “I guess I probably would.”

  The door opened and a man stuck his head in. Mid-thirties, prematurely balding, sporting a paunch he didn’t bother to try to hide. His white shirt had a streak of dirt across the front; his khakis were rumpled.

  I’d seen him before. On my first visit to Pine Ridge, he’d been the man who was outside working in one of the paddocks.

  “You want me to fix that cabinet now?” he asked Bailey.

  “No, not while I’m trying to work in here. I thought you were going to do it first thing this morning before the dogs started to arrive.”

  He shrugged. “Didn’t get to it.”

  “Yesterday?”

  “Didn’t have time.”

  “All right then.” She sounded exasperated. “Tomorrow morning?”

  “Could be.”

  He withdrew, shutting the door behind him. Bailey looked like she’d like to throw something. Instead, she picked up the brush and went back to work.

  “Larry Holmes,” she said, though I hadn’t asked. “He does maintenance. Or at least he’s supposed to.”

  “It looks like he’s not very good at his job.”

  “You ask me, he’s not very good at anything. Except maybe complaining about how hard he works. Things are constantly breaking down around here and it always takes forever to get them fixed. But whenever you ask Larry for help, he’s too busy. I swear I have no idea what t
hat man does all day. It will be interesting to see what happens to him now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “With Steve gone and Candy in charge, a new web site wouldn’t be the only change I’d expect to see.”

  “Like what else?”

  Bailey started to speak, then caught herself. “Oh, you know,” she said vaguely. “Just stuff.”

  Stuff she didn’t want to talk about apparently. Whereas griping about Larry came quite easily.

  Just to keep her loose and talking, I said, “So who has worked here longer, you or Larry?”

  “Like you mean, who has seniority?”

  I wouldn’t have put it that way exactly, but I nodded anyway.

  “Larry’s been here right from the start. At least that’s the way I understand it. He and Steve had known each other for years. I think they were high school buddies or something. But then Steve went on to college and I guess Larry never got around to doing much beside hanging out and drinking beer.”

  Bailey shook her head. “If you ask me, Steve gave Larry a job here just to lend an old friend a hand. It certainly wasn’t because he’s good at what he does. I mean, maintenance? How hard is that? And if he ever got things fixed right the first time, they wouldn’t keep breaking down.”

  “How about you?” I asked. “How long have you been here?”

  “Not nearly as long as that. Maybe nine months?”

  Her fingers continued to work their way gently through Pepper’s long coat. When a dog was well-behaved, grooming could be soothing, almost hypnotic. Bailey was beginning to relax again.

  “This place hasn’t been in business all that long, but they had another groomer before me. I heard she got them in trouble and they fired her.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “Some lady’s bitch got bred by accident when it was here for grooming.” Bailey looked up and giggled. “I guess I would like to have seen that. Anyway, the other girl got canned even though she didn’t think it was her fault and now we have all sorts of new rules, like only one dog at a time can be loose in here. The others have to be supervised by someone else or else in crates.”

  That had to be the tale of star-crossed lovers Buster and JoyJoy. A regular Romeo and Juliet. And Bailey was getting positively chatty. It was time to segue to a more difficult topic.