by V. M. Burns
I made a mental note to check with my vet. “We have an appointment in two weeks, so I’ll ask then.” I looked down at Aggie who had rolled onto her side and was basking in a ray of sunlight that cascaded through the trees. I smiled and tried to recall what my life had been like prior to adopting this six-pound bundle of joy, but I couldn’t. More importantly, I didn’t want to. I turned my gaze to Dixie who was still holding Indulf.
“Did Archibald Lowry have any family? Maybe he made provision for someone to take his dog if anything happened.” I looked at Dixie. “Is that a thing? Do people make provisions for their dogs?”
She nodded. “Absolutely, and you should figure out who you want to raise Aggie if something happens to you.”
I stared down at Aggie sprawled out on the deck. Geez, who knew owning a dog would involve so many details. I suppose it was time to update my will. My daughter, Stephanie, was a lawyer and she’d updated my will after my husband died. However, that was nearly a year ago. Since both of my children were grown up with lives of their own, I hadn’t thought much about guardianship. I certainly hadn’t thought about it in relation to my dog.
“Technically, you would be fostering little Indulf. If it turns out that Archibald Lowry has family, or made arrangements for him, then you’d have to give him back.” She paused and gazed out over the yard, but I could tell her mind was miles away.
I snapped my fingers. “Earth to Dixie.”
She came back from whatever mental vacation she’d just taken. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking back to a conversation I had with Archibald when I visited him.” She sighed. “I’m pretty sure he said he didn’t have any family, which was why he was interrogating or interviewing, depending on how you look at it, me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“If he had family, then he most likely would have left his money to them. If he didn’t have a will, then that’s what the court would do. They’d give the money to his relatives.” She stared at me. “I’m almost positive he said he didn’t have any relatives.” She puffed out her chest and brandished a Scottish accent. “Last in the line of a distinguished lineage.”
Dixie’s southern drawl didn’t lend itself to a Scottish accent, but she did an admirable job of imitating Archibald Lowry’s mannerisms.
“Well, he was very wealthy and there’s nothing like money to bring distant relations out of the woodwork.”
Dixie frowned.
“What’s wrong?”
She paused. “Did Red say if they had any ideas who could have done this?”
“I haven’t talked to him. He sent me a text at around three this morning to let me know he made it home. He was going to grab a couple of hours of sleep and then head back to work.”
Something in the way her hands fidgeted and her brow unfurled made me ask, “What’s really bothering you?”
She paused. “Honestly, I don’t really know. Something about the whole thing just feels wrong.” I started to ask a question, but she halted me by raising her hand. “I know I’m not making any sense, but I just have this weird feeling that something’s not right.” She shuddered. “By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.”
“Alright, now you’re scaring me. I know you quote everything from the Bible and other great literature to Hee Haw when you’re nervous, but in less than twenty-four hours, you’ve quoted Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet, Macbeth and Julius Caesar.”
She smiled. “Well, I did major in English Literature and technically, I believe you’re the one who quoted Julius Caesar.”
“Stop splitting hairs.
She released a heavy sigh. “I know you don’t want to get involved in another murder and I feel terrible asking you, but I was hoping you would reconsider and pull out your deer stalker one more time and look into who could have killed Archibald Lowry.”
I stared at my friend for several seconds and collected my thoughts. “Let me start by saying, Okay, I’ll do it.” She started to thank me, but this time it was my turn to halt her. I held up a hand. “However, I just want to know, why? Why is this so important?”
Dixie took a deep breath. She looked down on Indulf and thought for a few seconds.
“You know how when you saw that poor woman murdered on that pet camera, you kept thinking how you would feel if someone saw Stephanie murdered? Well, I never had children.” She smiled. “Not the kind with two legs anyway.” She petted Indulf and sighed. “My parents are both dead and I spent a lot of time with older relatives, uncles, aunts and…well, I guess I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for older people.” She shrugged. “That’s probably why I made sure Chyna and Leia were both registered therapy dogs.” She glanced at me. “You know, we go into nursing homes once a month.” She dropped her gaze. “Some of those older people would just break your heart, especially the ones who don’t get visitors from family or friends. They’re so happy to have someone to talk to, or a warm body to hug.” She snuggled Indulf. “I think Archibald Lowry reminded me of those people.” She shook her head. “I know it doesn’t make any sense. The man was richer than almighty God. He could certainly afford to pay someone to spend time with him, but…”
I reached out and squeezed her hand. “I get it. Archibald Lowry was rich, but he still didn’t have someone to care about him.”
She nodded. Her eyes filled with tears.
“Don’t you dare cry.” I hugged my friend. “You’ll get me started.”
Indulf was caught in between us and wiggled until he was able to lick both of us. We pulled apart and laughed.
“Besides, I’m responsible for the fundraising for the Eastern Tennessee Poodle Association, and Archibald Lowry’s murder is ruining our big weekend.”
I laughed. “I guess murder can put a damper on a fundraiser.”
“I sound horrible, I know, but it’s such a worthwhile cause and this is our biggest event of the year. The funds for this event allow us to rescue poodles from puppy mills and pay for vet services. I was hoping we could raise enough money to pay for extra services which can really improve the quality of life for these dogs.” She sighed. “I would love to create a fund where people who couldn’t afford veterinary care could actually apply and get a grant to fund the services.” She sighed.
Dixie’s heart was as big as the state of Tennessee and when it came to poodles, her compassion was endless.
“Okay, well the weekend isn’t over. We’ve got the poodle specialty this afternoon which should bring in quite a bit of money, right?”
She sighed. “I hope so. We’ve got a lot of poodles registered for the event. The entries have already been paid for and are nonrefundable, but we make quite a bit of money from visitors and concession sales.”
“Then you’re sure to make a fortune.”
She stared at me.
“It’s at Archibald Lowry’s estate.” I stared at her. “People will come out just to be nosy. I don’t know how you convinced the hermit to let you host a trial on his secluded farm.” I stared at my friend. “Are they still going to let you have the event there?”
She nodded. “I talked to his lawyer, first thing this morning. It’s a good thing Archibald signed a contract. I think that’s the only thing that prevented them from cancelling. I’m not sure it’s still valid since he’s dead, but they did agree to allow us to continue.” She smiled shyly. “I promised we’d dedicate the trial in Archibald’s memory, I’m going to make black arm bands for all of the competitors to wear and we’re going to have a moment of silence.”
“Well, that should have pleased them.”
She nodded. “Archibald Lowry really did love poodles, so it is fitting.”
Indulf sighed and snuggled down on her lap.
She handed him to me and pulled her notepad out of purse. “I need to swing by the store and pick up black fabric and scissors.” She looked down at Indul
f. “I should buy him a new collar.”
I stared down at the rather gaudy collar he was wearing. It was black leather and looked as though it had been bejeweled. There were large rhinestones in red, clear, green and blue that went around the entire collar. “It does look a bit tacky.”
“A bit?”
I shrugged. “I guess it goes with the name. I don’t know that I can call him Indulf, though.”
“What would you name him?” She glanced in my direction.
“Oh no you don’t.”
She gave me an innocent look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You know if I name that dog then I’m going to get attached. I know your sinister games.” I laughed.
“Well, then we’ll just keep calling him Indulf.”
I sighed and stared at the cute bundle of fur. “What about Rex?”
“Rex? That’s Latin for king?”
I smiled. “I was thinking more along the lines of Rex Stout, author of the Nero Wolfe mysteries. I loved those books.”
She smiled and gave the poodle a scratch. “Rex, it is.”
I looked down into a pair of big dark eyes and my heart turned to liquid. “This is a bad idea,” I said as I lifted the little gray fur ball and snuggled him close. “This is a very bad idea.”
Chapter 4
Dixie’s stop at the fabric store for black fabric expanded to include a visit to a major pet store. A couple hundred dollars later, I had purchased a crate large enough for both Rex and Aggie to stand up and turn around, but not big enough for them to use one side for sleeping and another for a toilet. Of course, no trip to a pet store was complete without a harness and leash for Rex, a new harness dress and treats for Aggie and more toys than a couple of poodles could gut in a month. I never dreamed I’d be the type of dog owner who enjoyed dressing my dog up in ridiculous costumes and outfits, but harness dresses were an entirely different matter. Dixie and my vet both recommended harnesses rather than connecting a leash to the dog’s collar. Harnesses had a ring on the body that allowed me to hook the leash to my dog’s back rather than her throat. That prevented pulling on her neck. Toy poodles don’t pull a lot, which can pose a problem for more muscular dogs who pull and could damage their throat with a traditional collar and leash. However, I have yet to break Aggie of jumping on people. She was small and in no danger of overpowering anyone, however apart from the fact that it was bad manners, she had managed to get dirty paw prints on a cream-colored skirt and had ripped a couple of pairs of my hosiery. Harnesses helped control the jumping. The fact that manufacturers placed a tiny skirt on the harness just added to the overall cuteness factor. Aggie pranced around when she wore them, and it never failed to bring a smile to my face.
I told myself I wasn’t buying things specifically for Rex. The larger crate and the male harness would be appropriate when I officially got a second dog. At least that’s what I told myself. The reality was, Rex was already a part of my pack and if I had to give him back, I’d cry and be extremely sad. However, until that day, I intended to enjoy each moment with him and not borrow trouble.
Archibald Lowry lived atop a mountain, but unlike Dixie’s home on Lookout Mountain where there were houses, schools, restaurants and an entire community, Archibald Lowry’s estate was on an extremely isolated area on Signal Mountain.
Dixie traversed the steep narrow roads with confidence and more speed than I would have deemed safe. However, she was familiar with mountain driving.
“Why would anyone want to live out in this wilderness?”
Dixie chuckled. “If you open your eyes and loosen your grip on that door handle, you’ll see that it’s really beautiful up here.”
I opened one eye and quickly shut it. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“Honestly, this is a lot more rural than I would want, but if you like hunting, fishing and nature, it’s amazing.” She glanced in the rearview mirror.
I turned to my friend. “How much nature?”
She glanced in my direction. “Lots of nature. There are bear, wild boar, turkeys.” She shrugged. “The other side of the mountain has a gated community with large three to ten acre lots. There are also bigger lots which are perfect for what they call gentleman farms. Archibald Lowry lived on the larger acreage. I heard he owned over a hundred and thirty acres of land.”
“That had to have cost a small fortune. How did Archibald Lowry make his money?”
She glanced in her rearview mirror. “No one really knows for sure. He came out of nowhere. He dabbled in real estate, mining, importing and exporting, he bought and sold businesses, and pretty much did anything and everything.”
“Seems strange to me.”
Dixie glanced at me sideways as she navigated around a curve and adroitly avoided a fallen tree limb. “Why? Isn’t it called diversifying when you’ve got your fingers in lots of pots?”
“No, I mean it’s strange that there’s not one thing he’s known for.” I paused for a minute to collect my thoughts. “I don’t know that many truly wealthy people. However, if you think about some of the richest people in the country, you can pretty much tell what they did to get their money. Oprah Winfrey was in entertainment, Bill Gates was in software, Warren Buffett invested in the stock market, Sam Walton was in retail.”
Dixie looked in her rearview mirror again. “I see what you mean. Well, I’m sure someone knows for sure how he made his money, but it’s not me.”
“Why do you keep looking back in the mirror.” I glanced at my side mirror and noticed a car further back with its daylight running lights on, but it wasn’t close enough to notice any other details.
“That car has been behind us for quite some time.”
I turned to look out of the back window. However, I couldn’t see much. “Do you think they’re following us?”
Dixie glanced back quickly and then shrugged. “Maybe they are. I mean, it could just be someone doing the same thing we’re doing, following the signs to the dog show.”
“Then why do you seem nervous?”
She hesitated and then shivered. “I don’t know. I just feel like someone walked over my grave.”
I stared at her and then glanced in the mirror again. “Shakespeare?”
“To Kill A Mockingbird.” She saw my nervousness and chuckled. “It’s just an old saying the old folks used to say when they got a chill.”
“Do you think I should call Red?” I reached down and grabbed my cell phone from my purse.
She shook her head. “Let the poor man sleep. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
We both tried to shake off the uneasy feeling, but I noticed Dixie glancing in her mirror more than usual and I caught myself looking back several times before we arrived at the show site.
Dixie followed several handmade signs that directed us to the Poodle Specialty Show. Eventually, she pulled up to the area where the events were to be held.
There was a flat area where cars, RVs and trailers were parked. There was also a large tent with grooming tables holding all varieties of poodles: toys, miniatures and standards in white, black, brown, and gray. Practically every solid color was represented.
Since reconnecting with my college friend, I had learned a lot about dogs in general, and specifically poodles, and dog shows. Dixie owned two standard poodles, Champion Chyna 9th Wonder of the World and Grand Champion Galactic Imperial Resistance Leader, also known as Leia. Chyna and Leia were retired obedience, agility and conformation champions. However, Dixie brought them out for events like this weekend where they could demonstrate their skills. Aggie was here merely to observe and, hopefully, learn how to behave like a trained poodle by hanging around with other trained poodles. Rex was here relaxing.
A poodle Specialty meant the only dogs entered would be poodles, so I wasn’t surprised at the number of poodles present. From the smallest toy po
odles like Aggie and Rex, to the largest standard poodles this event was a poodle lovers’ dream, and ever since Aggie came into my life, I had become a lover. Although, just like Dixie, I liked dogs of all kinds. I loved my daughter, Stephanie’s golden retriever, Lucky, and her boyfriend, Joe’s Plott Hound, Turbo. I was quite fond of the dogs from our dog club, too. Dr. Morgan’s German shepherd, Max, B.J.’s Westie, Snoball, and Monica Jill’s dog, Jac, whom she lovingly referred to as a mutt.
I walked through the grounds and admired all of the dogs and marveled that less than a year ago there were no dogs in my life. My husband, Albert, didn’t like them. When Albert dumped me for a woman younger than our children, I realized she’d done me a favor. I was able to do the things that I enjoyed, including owning a dog. I moved from Indiana to Chattanooga, which I loved, and I had friends and was putting down roots.
“What are you grinning about?” Dixie glanced at me.
“I was just thinking how different my life is now.”
She gave my shoulder a squeeze and we walked our pack to the main tent.
Dixie had corralled a number of folks from the Eastern Tennessee Dog Club to help, even though they weren’t technically members of the Poodle Association, so I saw quite a few familiar faces. Beau, Dixie’s husband, was one of them.
“Great, there’s Beau.” Dixie pointed toward the area near the side of the tent with a large dog pen, several stadium chairs and refreshments for both humans and canines. “He’s got our crates set up.”
“Thanks, dear.” Dixie kissed Beau’s cheek as he took the standard poodles from Dixie, freeing her hands.
He removed the leashes and put the larger dogs in their crates. “You’ve got me trained pretty well,” he joked.
She smiled. “It only took a quarter of a century to do it.”
Chyna and Leia were great with Aggie and all dogs, but I knew they were going to be participating in some of the demonstrations later and didn’t need to be aggravated with a playful puppy, so I unloaded the new crate I’d bought and placed Aggie and Rex inside. Aggie wasn’t crazy about not being with the big dogs and voiced her displeasure.