by B R Snow
Lucky clamored to his feet and made a beeline for the door. Alexandra shook her head as we roared with laughter.
“Now I’ve done it,” she said. “Lucy. Let’s go, girl. Time to hit the road.”
We watched the female Golden trot gracefully toward the door and wait for Alexandra’s instructions. Then the two of them strolled toward the car where Lucky was impatiently pacing back and forth.
“Typical male,” I said.
“I guess we can’t blame him,” Josie said. “If you had a weekly appointment like that, we’d never get you out of the car.”
“You’re really not funny.”
“Disagree.”
Chapter 13
Remembering our upcoming trip to Grand Cayman where I’d be forced to put my pasty-white winter complexion and a whole lot of skin on full display, I went easy on the stuffing and settled for a double helping of leftover turkey. I settled into the chair next to Rooster at the chef table in the kitchen and waited until Chef Claire joined us.
The restaurant was closed, and since all the food from yesterday’s feast was here, rather than cart it all home, we decided to just eat lunch here. Josie was chatting casually with Chief Abrams and Chef Claire started feeding small pieces of turkey to Al and Dente who were sprawled at her feet.
“You’re not going to let them out of your sight for a while, are you?” I said, laughing.
“Not a chance,” she said. “No, that’s enough for now, Al.”
Al emitted what sounded like a low grumble, but settled right down and closed his eyes.
“Good dogs,” Rooster said, glancing down at them.
“Any word from your cousin?” I said, starting to work my way through a slice of white meat.
“I swung by the state police station this morning, which, as you know, is something I enjoy about as much as swimming in the River in December,” Rooster said, taking a sip of his mimosa. “At first, he didn’t feel like talking.”
“But you convinced him eventually,” I said.
“I did. I told him that now that my brother was gone, he was about the only family I’ve got left.”
“And cousin Walter saw dollar signs flashing before his eyes?” I said.
“He certainly did. That was something he was able to see very clearly. He has no idea how much money I’ve got, but as soon as he got an inkling he might inherit it, he got very chatty.”
“What are you going to do with all your money, Rooster?”
“Start spending heavy near the end, then I thought I might leave what’s left to you,” he said, casually chewing.
“I don’t need your money, Rooster,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t know what to do with what I have now.”
“Judging by the condition of that contraption you drive, that’s pretty clear. The money wouldn’t be for you. It would be for the dogs. What do you think?”
“I think you should spend every last dollar and make sure your last check bounces,” I said, patting his hand.
“Now that would be the perfect way for someone like me to go out,” he said, giving the idea some serious consideration.
“So, you wouldn’t consider leaving it to Coke Bottle?”
“Not a chance. I can’t even count how much money I’ve given him and my dead brother over the years,” he said, frowning. “He’ll be lucky if he gets invited to my funeral.”
“What did he have to say?”
“Other than saying he was sorry for driving my car into a tree?”
“That was your car?”
“It was one of them. They stole it out of the garage I use to store old boats and cars.”
“I guess I can’t blame you for cutting him out of the will,” I said, shaking my head. “I can’t believe your own family would steal from you.”
“It wasn’t the first time. Anyway, Walter said that the man didn’t say much the whole time they were in the camp. But the woman was pretty chatty. She mentioned her place in Colorado a couple of times. But she was very cranky with the guy the whole time they were there. And it sounded to my cousin like they were a couple. You know, of the horizontal variety.”
“Got it,” I said. “Does he know which one of them killed Jerry?”
“He’s pretty sure it was the woman. Apparently, she was in the kitchen just before the lights went out.”
“And she grabbed the knife and headed across the room?” I said, trying to recreate the scene in my head.
“Yeah, that’s what he thinks happened,” Rooster said. “Then he told me that he thought the woman was actually planning to stab the guy instead of my brother.”
“Now that’s interesting,” I said, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, I thought that might get your motor running,” he said, laughing.
“Did Walter hear them talking about dogs?”
“Yeah, he did. But my cousin’s ability to process information, like his eyesight, is pretty limited. He said they talked about needing to get their supply restocked,” Rooster said, frowning. “Does that make any sense to you?”
“Maybe. I think we might be dealing with another black market scam involving dogs. The supply they were referring to was probably dog semen.”
“Hey, we’re trying to eat here,” Josie said. “New topic, please.”
“The things people are willing to do for a buck,” Rooster said, softly. “And you think they might take another shot at that dog judge’s Goldens?”
“Yeah. And thanks again for agreeing to keep an eye on the Inn while we’re at the dog show. Sammy and Tommy will be there, but we’ll feel a lot more comfortable knowing you’re there.”
“I’m happy to do it. Now that tourist season is over, I’m worried that Titan might be losing his edge. I can’t think of a better way to get it back than by him gnawing on some dognapper’s leg.”
“I hope it doesn’t come to that, but if it does, I hope Titan is hungry,” I said. “Did you get a chance to catch up with your ex-wife yet?”
“Yeah, we talked last night,” he said, staring down at his plate before glancing over at me. “Aren’t you going to ask how it went?”
“No, I don’t think I am. If you want to tell me, you will.”
“You’re a smart woman, Suzy. You seem to know when to push and when to back off.”
“Thanks. I think I get that from my father.”
“Yeah, probably. Your mom doesn’t seem to have much of a pause button.”
“Do you?”
“Do I want to tell you how it went?”
“Yes.”
“Back off,” he said, then laughed.
“But she’s doing okay, right?”
“She’s fine. And she’s got the most beautiful Springer Spaniel I’ve ever seen.”
“I take it meeting the dog was the highlight of the evening.”
“Without a doubt.”
Chapter 14
When my mother and the town council first came up with the idea to hold a dog show, they’d asked Josie and me to serve on the planning committee. By the time our initial five-hour committee meeting finished, most members of the council were beginning to regret their decision to hold the show in the first place. The logistics were enormous and started with locating a dog group that was a member of the American Kennel Club to sanction the show.
When my mother wondered out loud why we even needed to bother, we explained to her that, if we wanted to award accredited championship points to the winning dogs, the show needed to be AKC sanctioned. After twenty minutes of questions and debate about what championship points were, and why they were important to the people and their dogs who participated, we finally moved on to the next item on the agenda.
The first item had turned out to be one of the easiest to cross off the list.
When the meeting finally adjourned, several members of the council remained sitting around the conference table staring forlornly at the to-do list we’d captured on a whiteboard. While they were trying to recover, my mother hit u
s up to be the primary sponsor of the show. Worn out from the meeting, we quickly agreed and wrote her a check on the spot.
She beamed at us and headed back to the conference room.
Josie and I headed home for wine and Advil.
But the committee eventually muddled its way through, and we’d ended up with what appeared to be a strong and manageable show that could probably be repeated annually. Big dog shows regularly have over a thousand dogs participating, and the dogs come from dozens of different breeds that are divided into seven separate groups. At first, my mother had grand designs to go big, but since we were holding the show at Clay Bay’s multi-purpose arena that only held two thousand people, she’d scaled back when Josie asked her a very simple question.
“Where do you plan to put all the dogs?” Mrs. C.
In her desire to recreate a show like the big ones on TV, my mother had forgotten that while the one dog she was watching on the screen was being put through its paces, there were hundreds of other dogs waiting for their turn.
And they had to wait somewhere.
In the end, we’d reserved one side of the arena that included walkways and open spaces under the seating areas above. And since there was no way we could handle all seven sanctioned groups, we’d eventually decided on to limit our show to only the Sporting Group and cap entries at two-hundred. Since dogs from this group were often owned by local residents and extremely popular, the committee unanimously agreed that the Sporting Group would attract the most entries and sell the most tickets. They’d been right on both counts, and the event was sold out.
We got Chloe and Captain into my SUV, and by the time we got to the arena at eight in the morning, people and their dogs were everywhere. We’d rolled the dice on the weather and had gotten lucky. Partially cloudy and fifty degrees was downright balmy in late November in the Islands and the potential problem of how we’d handle wet and muddy dogs disappeared.
Inside, the registration area was busy, as was the section of the foyer we’d reserved for our adoption program. Jill was studying the results of her work and the dozen dogs that were resting comfortably inside the portable fencing she’d set up. She was chatting with three high school girls who worked for us during the summer and had volunteered to help out.
“Hey, guys,” Jill said, kneeling down to rub Chloe and Captain’s heads. “We just got set up, and we’ve already had two adoptions.”
“That’s great,” I said. “Which ones?”
“The Cocker and the Lab-Retriever mix. I figured that since it was a Sporting Group show, it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to bring dogs from those breeds.”
“Good call,” Josie said. “Have you seen Alexandra?”
“She got here a few minutes ago. She said she was heading to her office,” Jill said, laughing. “That is if a converted supply closet can actually be called an office.”
“Yeah, we kind of ran out of room,” I said, glancing around and waving to some friends. “Is she okay with the space?”
“Well, she said she’d seen much worse, so I think she is,” Jill said. “She’s a very nice woman.”
“Yes, she is,” I said.
“And fully recovered from her initial encounter with Rooster,” Josie said.
I laughed. When Alexandra had stopped by earlier to drop off her dogs, Rooster was already there. He was wearing his usual attire right down to the boots without laces or socks. And if the grease-stained jeans and Grateful Dead tee shirt he was wearing hadn’t raised her blood pressure a tick, then his unshaven face and the sweat-stained bandana on his head certainly did the trick. But after spending ten minutes with him, she’d relaxed, and by the time she was ready to leave for the show, they were chatting like old friends.
Josie and I walked into the arena and looked around. The decorating committee had done a great job, and they’d asked Sammy, one of Clay Bay’s music aficionados, to put together a playlist for the show. He’d stayed with the dog theme, and we heard the end of John Hiatt’s My Dog and Me transition seamlessly into Bowie’s Diamond Dogs.
The hockey boards that were up most of the time in winter were gone, and the ice had been covered with its protective mat and wooden floor. On top of the floor was a bright green indoor-outdoor carpet that stretched the length of the rink and really popped. We nodded our approval as we walked toward the center ice area then walked down the small incline between two sections of seats. We found Alexandra studying the registration list inside the cramped confines of the converted closet.
“This is a strong field,” she said, looking up from the list. “Should be a great show.”
“Any early favorites jumping off the page?” Josie said, looking over Alexandra’s shoulder.
“Well, I hate to pre-judge,” she said, smiling. “But Glen and Abby Wilson’s Chesapeake Bay Retriever always shows very well.”
I remembered meeting the couple at Thanksgiving dinner as well as the tension between Abby and Alexandra. But if Alexandra was already saying good things about their dog, she didn’t appear to be someone who held grudges. At least against dogs.
“And wait until you see Margaret Jenkins’ Springer Spaniel. Magnificent dog,” she said. “Maybe next year you can figure out a way to include the Working and Herding groups. Your Aussie Shepherd and the Newfie would both show very well.”
“Thanks, Alexandra,” I said, glancing at Josie. “But we really don’t have much interest in showing our dogs.”
“Yeah, we kind of like to let them set their own agenda if you know what I mean,” Josie said.
“I understand completely,” she said, stroking Chloe’s fur. “And they deserve to be as spoiled as you want. Getting dogs show-ready is a lot of work and isn’t for everybody.” She clapped her hands and stood. “Okay, let’s go look at some dogs.”
She waved as she headed toward the show area.
“She’s a very happy woman,” Josie said, watching her walk away. “I think her life is a lot like ours.”
“Then she’s lucky,” I said, glancing around the cramped space. “We should have done a better job finding a space for her to do her work and relax.”
“Well, unless you want to put her in one of the women’s bathrooms or on the roof, good luck.”
I glanced up through the open ceiling at the boxes and spare lights that were stacked on the catwalk above the closet.
“Yeah, I know,” I said. “But next year we have to do a better job.”
“Let’s say we get through today first, huh?”
“Okay,” I said, clapping my hands. “Let’s go find some dognappers.”
“Sounds good. Right after we find Jessica and do your interview,” she said, laughing.
“Ah, crap. I completely forgot.”
“Relax. I think it’s going to be a lot of fun,” she said, grinning at me.
Jessica was easy to find. She was fake-smiling her way around the reception area, greeting well-wishers and signing the occasional autograph. She spotted us and nodded at Jerry the Cameraman to follow her as she headed our way.
“Good morning, ladies,” Jessica said. “How are you doing, Slasher? Am I safe here, or are you packing cutlery?”
“Doesn’t walking around with that smile hurt your face?” I said.
“After a while, yeah,” Jessica said. “But as soon as I saw the two of you, problem solved, right?”
“Let’s get this over with.”
“I want that tape,” Jessica said.
“And I want to be able to eat all the ice cream I want without gaining a pound,” I said, flashing her a quick smile. “Life sucks, huh?”
“You won’t be able to get within a thousand yards of a dog by the time I finish with you,” she said, then turned to Jerry. “Let’s find a quiet spot inside. But not anywhere near that hideous green carpet.” Then she glanced down at Chloe and Captain. “And keep those disgusting animals away from me.”
I handed Chloe’s lead to Josie and followed Jessica and Jerry back inside the ar
ena. I sat down in the seat Jerry pointed at and saw Josie in the doorway holding both leads and starting to slowly work her way toward me. Jessica and Jerry were chatting about how to handle the interview and didn’t notice her stealthy approach.
“Okay, let’s get going,” Jessica said, transitioning back into her on-camera persona. “I’ll keep my questions simple, you keep your answers short, and we’ll both get out of this unscathed.”
“Deal,” I said.
I spent the next five minutes answering her questions that were focused on the dog show and our rescue program. The interview, as promised, was short and relatively painless, and when Alexandra nodded at Jerry that she was done, I caught Jackson’s eye, and he wandered over. Josie saw him, and she took a few steps closer then stopped again. The dogs sat down on either side of her, and she held up her phone and looked through the viewfinder.
“Hey, Suzy,” Jackson said. “Was you just on the TV?”
“Not yet, Jackson,” I said, trying not to laugh at his bumpkin routine. “But I will be tonight. Right, Jessica?”
“What? Oh, yeah. It’ll be on the eleven o’clock news,” she said, tossing her microphone to Jerry and exhaling loudly.
“Wow. A real TV star in my midst,” Jackson said. “You’re Jessica Talbot, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am,” Jessica said, flashing a quick smile. “Thanks for watching.”
“You sure are purdy,” Jackson said through the bulge in his cheek. “You wouldn’t happen to be looking for a boyfriend now would you?”
Jessica gave him a blank stare.
“You’re joking, right?” she said, dumbfounded.
“No, I ain’t jokin’. I’m a lot of fun once you get to know me.”
“And get past the smell?” she said. “Look, Bubba, I don’t mean to be rude, but there are probably dogs here I’d date before I agreed to be seen anywhere in public with you. And just so we’re perfectly clear, I hate dogs.”
“That’s okay. We don’t have to go out. We could just go to my place,” Jackson said, winking at her.
“Is that a wink, or an involuntary tic?” Jessica said. “If I were you, I’d get checked for Lyme disease.”
