by B R Snow
“I’ve been thinking about that a lot,” I said, leaning forward. “At first, I thought it was just a relationship, or maybe an affair, that went bad.”
“At first?”
“Yeah, but I think it’s more complicated than that,” I said.
“Is this the part where you’re going to dazzle me with your brilliance?” she said, laughing.
“No, this is the part where I try to verbalize some of the goofy ideas running around my head and hope I don’t come across as a total idiot.”
“Did you watch a lot of Columbo growing up?”
“A ton. I still do,” I said, nodding. “If you’re comparing me to him, I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“It wasn’t meant as a compliment. I was referring to the annoyance factor.”
“Got it,” I said. “Okay, here goes nothing. Since you started out as a massage therapist, I’m going to take a guess that Middleton used to be a client of yours. That’s probably where you first met. How am I doing so far?”
“I’m still listening,” she said, flatly.
“Good. I’m one for one,” I said, nodding. “Then, over time, you and he started seeing each other outside of, let’s call it, the clinical setting.”
“You mean, I started sleeping with him, right?”
“Your words, not mine,” I said, shrugging. “But yeah, that’s what I’m saying.”
“What if we did?”
“Nothing. You’re both adults. And I’m sure Middleton might have had…certain qualities you found interesting. At least, in the beginning. And then you came up with a business idea that had the potential to change your life.”
“Who have you been talking to?”
“Just myself,” I said, shrugging. “Now that I know what you do, I’m going to guess that your business idea was to get into animal massage therapy in a big way.” I paused to gauge her reaction. I got a mild flinch out of her and decided I was definitely on the right track. “And who better to help you do that than the guy who owned the largest pet store franchise in North America. After you outlined what you wanted to do, Middleton agreed to let you set up animal massage in all his franchises, didn’t he?”
“Yes, he did,” she said, baffled, yet still tearing up. “The Firestone AMCs.”
She noticed the frown on my face and continued.
“Animal Massage Centers.”
“Cool name. But then he reneged on the deal, didn’t he?”
“Yeah. He cut me out of it, stole the idea, and was planning on doing it himself,” she snapped.
“And you thought the perfect place to confront him about it would be here at this conference,” I said, fiddling with a loose button on my blouse. Then I glanced over at her and found her staring back at me with a look of amazement.
“Actually, it was my lawyer’s idea,” she said softly. “He thought that if I could provoke Middleton into an argument, he might slip up and confess a few things we could use in the lawsuit. Not to mention the number of witnesses we’d have at our disposal.”
“Good plan,” I said, nodding. “But he hadn’t started setting up these AMCs, and now that he’s dead, it’s unlikely the idea will get off the ground.”
“We’re going to keep an eye on what his company does, but I doubt it.”
“And there goes your lawsuit,” I said.
“Yeah. Along with my motive for killing him,” she said, forcing a small smile. “I can’t really sue a dead guy for something he was thinking about doing, can I?”
“Well, I know some lawyers who’d be willing to give it a shot, but, no, I seriously doubt it.”
“So, the last thing I would want is Middleton dead,” she said. “End of story.”
Maybe, I thought to myself. I considered ending the conversation and walking away but decided to tread into a dangerous area.
“Were you still sleeping together?” I said, getting ready to flinch at her reaction. Fortunately, despite her anger, she remained calm.
“What?” she whispered.
“I’m sorry. But the other half of your potential motive is the relationship side. Some of your comments last night were obviously directly related to that. I don’t think calling him, what was it, a scum-sucking pig was a reference to his business acumen.”
She laughed.
“You should have heard what I called him right after that.”
“I did. But I’m not comfortable using that kind of language.”
“Too bad. It certainly got his attention. But to answer your question, no, we stopped sleeping together six months ago. Which was just fine with me.”
“And that was right after you’d gotten him to agree to put the AMCs in his stores?” I said, again getting ready to duck.
Her face turned bright red, and she gave me a death-stare.
“That’s a cheap shot.”
“Maybe. Yeah, it probably was. At a minimum, it’s a really tough question,” I said. “I’m just looking for a motive.”
“I think this conversation is over,” she said, standing up and brushing the hair back from her face with an angry flip of her hand.
“Yeah, I was afraid you were going to say that,” I said, getting up. “I’m sorry, Wilma. After last night, I imagine this was the last thing you wanted to deal with.”
“Compared with this grilling, the cops were a piece of cake,” she said, shaking her head. “So, Columbo, do you think I killed him?”
“I think you were probably mad enough to kill him, but, no, I don’t think you did it.”
“Why not?”
I glanced up at the slide of the Golden getting a massage and smiled at the look of sheer delight on the dog’s face.
“I just can’t picture the hands in that photo as the same ones that were around Middleton’s throat.”
“Thanks,” she said, frowning. “I guess.”
“And unless I missing something, I just don’t think you’re physically strong enough to have pulled it off,” I said with a shrug.
“Too bad the cops don’t feel the same way,” she said, glancing up when she heard people coming into the room.
“I’m sure they’re just casting a wide net and keeping their options open until they know more,” I said, tossing my bag over my shoulder. “Look, I’m really sorry about all the questions. I know I can be incredibly annoying.”
“Oh, so you see it, too. I thought it was just me,” she said, eventually breaking into a small grin.
“Funny. Just try not to worry too much the cops. If you didn’t do it, you shouldn’t have anything to worry about. And, hopefully, when it all plays out, we’ll have a happy ending.”
“Now you sound just like Middleton.”
“You lost me.”
“Think about it.”
I did.
Then I grimaced.
“Oh. Happy ending. Got it.”
Chapter 7
Josie sat back down next to me and smiled and waved to the audience as the round of applause she was receiving continued. After doing a joint overview of our Doggy Inn philosophy and services to begin our luncheon keynote address, Josie had spent the last twenty minutes discussing the veterinary side of the business. While the crowd of close to six-hundred was obviously impressed by her expertise, they were blown away by our inventory of diagnostic and surgical equipment that, as my mother and the rest of the town council weren’t shy about reminding us, rivaled that of our local hospital.
Now it was my turn to outline for the audience our rescue program that had recently been modified to increase the number of dogs we were able to find new homes for. I got up and stood behind the lectern, and glanced around the room where people were enjoying coffee and dessert. Just to my left, I noticed Wilma, the massage therapist, sitting at a table next to one of the men I’d been searching for since I’d finished my conversation with her. I recognized his face from the confrontation he’d had with Middleton the previous evening, but the thought that I’d seen him someplace else bef
ore nagged at me. My Snoopmeter immediately turned itself on, and it took me several seconds to get it under control. Nervous, but much less so than I’d been in the past doing similar presentations, I focused on my breathing, cleared my throat, and took a sip of water.
“Great job, Josie,” I said, glancing over at her then back out at the audience. “And don’t let her false modesty fool you. Without her skill set, dedication, and genuine love for dogs, the Doggy Inn wouldn’t have ever gotten off the ground. She truly is an amazing and gifted individual. And I don’t get the chance to say that to her in a public setting often enough.”
Josie beamed at me, then got up and approached the lectern. She reached into her pocket and handed me a twenty-dollar bill. The audience chuckled. Josie sat back down, and I stared at the twenty, then at her.
“Hey, I said I’d do it for fifty.”
I waited out the laughter then refocused.
“I’m going to spend a few minutes on our rescue program, a program we are very proud of. And I’d like to keep this informal, so please feel free to ask questions as they come to you.” I gripped the lectern with both hands and glanced around the room. “Okay, I’m going to say this right up front. Those of you who are more interested in the profit side of the animal care business, are probably going to cringe when I share some of these numbers with you. To be perfectly honest, and incredibly blunt, from a money-making perspective, our rescue program is a total loser. It’s what a corporate accountant with a science background might call a black hole in the profit universe. On a good month, our rescue program loses anywhere between five and ten thousand dollars. Each month it’s like taking a handful of hundred dollar bills and tossing them into the wind. And you know what…apart from increasing the number of dogs we find homes for, we wouldn’t change a thing.”
I waited out an extended round of applause that caught me by surprise. I smiled and was about to continue when a hand went up. The man sitting next to Wilma had his hand in the air and a confused look on his face. Since he was someone I definitely wanted to talk to about Middleton’s murder, I called on him right away.
“You have a question, sir?”
“I do,” he said, waiting for a handheld microphone to be brought to his table. “Did I hear you correctly? Did you say that your dog rescue program loses around a hundred thousand dollars a year?”
“That sounds about right,” I said, nodding as I glanced over at Josie. “Do you remember the final number from last year?”
“A hundred and eleven thousand,” Josie said.
I glanced back at the man holding the microphone and shrugged.
“There you go, like I said, a black hole.”
“That’s insane,” he said, shaking his head.
“But the recent expansion of our rescue program is going to allow us to test out a new business strategy.”
“Which is?” he said, confused.
“We’re going to try to make it up in volume,” I deadpanned.
The audience roared, and I maintained eye contact with the man until the room settled down.
“Your partner mentioned earlier that you have a strict No-Kill policy,” the man said.
“That’s correct,” I said. “We don’t even like to yell at our dogs.”
“But you must have a lot of dogs that people simply don’t want,” he said, obviously determined to make his point.
“We like to look at it a different way. We have several dogs that simply haven’t found the right owner yet. And our job is to take care of them until they do.”
“You never euthanize your dogs?” he said, having a hard time wrapping his head around the concept.
“Only when it’s a medical necessity at the end of life to ease the dog’s pain and suffering,” Josie interjected.
“Absolutely,” I said, nodding.
“While that is certainly an honorable approach, from a business perspective, it sounds, well, crazy,” he said, nodding in agreement with himself.
A low rumble of anger and resentment started to build in the room. I held up my hand.
“No, it’s okay,” I said. “I started off by saying that some people in the room might have a problem with the numbers. But No-Kill, for us, is what someone who comes from a corporate environment, which I assume you do, would call a core value. And as soon as Josie and I agreed on that idea when we first started talking about going into business, it established the framework on which we still operate.”
“What’s best for the dogs comes first,” Josie said.
I nodded in agreement and waited for the man to comment. He seemed to be having trouble deciding which path to head down. If he hadn’t been on my suspect list, I probably would have just moved on with my presentation. Eventually, he nodded and raised the microphone to his mouth.
“I could never run a successful business using that approach,” he said.
“I’m not asking you to,” I said, shrugging.
“Don’t you have shareholders or a board of directors to answer to?”
“Well, we do have a small board of directors that meets quarterly. If you can call it that,” I said, laughing. “It includes our other business partner. She’s a world-class chef. And my mom and a few other close friends. But we usually spend most of the meeting eating and drinking.”
“I’m sorry, but the thought of making the conscious business decision to lose a hundred thousand dollars a year doesn’t make any sense to me,” he said.
“Well, it’s not really a conscious choice,” I said, glancing over at Josie. “It just sort of happens.”
Again, the audience chuckled.
“I can’t believe any sane businessperson would choose to do something like that,” he said, shaking his head.
“Yes, I can see that,” I said, smiling at him. “But between the vet services and the hotel side, we generally more than cover any losses we incur on the rescue side.”
“And if you don’t make it up?”
“I write a check for the difference,” I said, shrugging.
“You write a check. Out of your own pocket?”
“Yeah.”
“Why on earth would you do that?”
“Because we love dogs,” I said softly. “And I’m rich.”
Another ripple of laughter filled the room. I paused to reflect on what I’d just said. It was the first time I’d ever publicly acknowledged that I had more money than I knew what to do with. I decided I’d said it as a simple statement of fact, devoid of boasting, and that it didn’t bother me as much as I had feared it would for a very long time. Not that I planned on making a habit of it.
“And that’s how you choose to spend your money?” he said, baffled.
I glanced at Josie with a frown on my face.
“Wasn’t I being clear? I thought I made my point.”
“Perfectly,” she said, glaring at the man with the microphone.
“Thanks,” I said, then I refocused on him. “Yes, that’s how I choose to spend some of my money.”
“Unbelievable. You call that a sustainable business model?”
“No, we call it a dog rescue program,” I snapped, then my neurons fired, and I remembered where I’d seen him before. “But don’t worry, we don’t have any plans to sell the franchise rights.”
He flinched, then glared at me.
“It’s just that I can think of a lot better ways to spend a hundred thousand dollars.”
I had to admire the guy’s tenacity. But that still wasn’t enough to overcome the loathing that was starting to work its way into my system.
“I’m sure you can. And I suppose I could use the money to buy a new boat or a Mercedes every year, but I’d rather spend it on feeding a bunch of hungry dogs.”
I’d been so focused on the guy with the microphone that I’d forgotten there were six hundred people in the audience. As such, I was startled when they rose en masse and gave me a standing ovation. The man tossed the microphone on the table and glared at me. I waited ou
t the applause, then focused on my breathing to calm down before continuing.
“Okay, I promised to talk a bit about our recent expansion of the rescue program. Josie and I haven’t been satisfied with some aspects of our placement efforts. Our overall adoption percentage is pretty high, but we weren’t happy with the length of time it was taking to place some of our dogs. The time from intake to placement is one of the metrics we keep a close eye on.”
“Oh, so you do use some business metrics,” the man interjected, apparently not used to losing an argument. “How refreshing.”
“You’re a tenacious little Greed Head, aren’t you?” I said, raising an eyebrow at him. “Yes, we do use a lot of metrics. And while our rescue program may lose tons of money, I’m proud to say that we know exactly where every penny of it goes.”
The audience roared with laughter, and, again, the man tossed the microphone on the table. He slumped down in his chair and folded his arms in front of him.
“After talking with our staff, we decided to take more of an active approach with our adoption program. As such, we recruited and trained a couple dozen volunteers to help us out. A lot of them are high school kids, others are local residents, many of whom are retired. After they complete the training, they select one dog and then use a variety of outreach strategies to find a good home for the dog they’re sponsoring. It’s been incredibly successful, and, to our surprise, about half of the initial adoptions resulted from the bond our volunteers and the dogs formed. After spending a few weeks with their dog, many of our volunteers couldn’t bear to let them go. And since each volunteer can usually only adopt the one dog, we’re continuing to add new volunteers on a constant basis.”
I paused to take a sip of water and waited until the murmur in the room abated.
“Now, Josie and I are faced with a different problem,” I said. “The program has taken off to the point where we don’t have the time required to manage it. As such, if anybody here is interested, or knows somebody who might be, we’re currently looking for a full-time manager to run our rescue and adoption program.” I glanced down at my watch, realized that my time was running short, and glanced around the room. “Okay, let’s take some questions.”
