Buried to the Brim

by Jenn McKinlay

  Richard sighed. “I do trust Mary, but something happened last year. Swendson needs to be investigated and since he’s dead and now you’re going to be staying on—”

  “What did you say?” she asked. Her voice sounded wary.

  “I’m sorry. I hate to be blunt, but I know about Swendson’s plan to replace you as the chairman of PAWS,” Richard said. “It was a vicious thing for him to do, to go after you like that. How long have you been running the dog show for charity? Fifteen? Twenty years?”

  “Seventeen,” Liza said. Her voice sounded strained. “It was a hollow threat. Swendson felt that we needed to shake things up a bit. He wanted the light more on him as the sponsor and less on . . .”

  “The winning dog,” Richard said. He shook his head. “What a narcissist.”

  “Be that as it may,” Liza said. “He’s dead, whether by his own hand or someone else’s—”

  “He did it to himself,” Richard said. He sounded awfully sure of himself. I wondered if he knew something.

  “Then why was he found under the dais?” Liza asked.

  “Who knows?” Richard shrugged. “The man clearly had issues. Trust me, the police will discover it was suicide.”

  “As coldhearted as this sounds, I hope you’re right,” Liza said. “For the sake of us all.” She gave him a sharp look and strode off.

  I started to slip away but Richard’s voice stopped me. “How is Betty?”

  I thought about pretending I didn’t hear him. There was enough background noise in this room that I could have gotten away with it but I was curious as to what he knew so I did a slow turn instead.

  “Betty is fine,” I said. “She’s here, in fact. Out in the arena, watching Freddy’s competition.”

  “Of course she is.” Richard smiled and I noticed he looked younger when he did so. I had thought he had at least ten years on Betty but having heard him say they were the same age, now I could see it.

  I studied his face. “You like her.”

  He lifted one eyebrow. “I find her to be a worthy opponent.”

  “And you like her.”

  “I do like pretty things, and Betty is certainly that,” he said. He glanced down at his dog and then back up. His expression was chagrined. “She’s the reason I enter the competitions.”

  My eyes went wide. Okay, I totally hadn’t expected that. He smiled, obviously pleased to have caught me off guard.

  “That’s the irony, isn’t it?” he asked. “I don’t even care if we win. In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s working against me with Betty.”

  “It is.” I nodded.

  He laughed. “I entered the first time just to spend some time with Betty. We met at our veterinarian’s office. Did you know?”

  I shook my head. This was brand-new information.

  “Betty is the one who talked me into entering the dog show. Turns out Muffin is a fierce competitor.” He shrugged. “It all snowballed from there. I’d been posting online about Muffin since she was a pup. She has a lot of personality.”

  I glanced down at the bulldog. She wagged her head and her jowls shook and spit flew. It was hard for me to believe that was more endearing than Freddy’s heart-shaped bum. Then Muffin looked up at me and I swear she smiled. Okay, I got it. She was a drooly charmer.

  “But when we won the first dog show, her popularity went global. The next thing I knew Betty had declared me the enemy and there went any chance I had of asking her out.”

  “But you kept competing,” I said.

  “I figured she and Freddy had to win one of these days.”

  “Well, if it’s any consolation,” I said, “I don’t think she’s immune to you either.” What I did not say was that I was pretty sure Aunt Betty would have happily stepped right over his maimed body to get to the winner’s circle with the trophy.

  “Oh, I know that,” he said. “Unfortunately, I think it’s a hostile regard that I can’t seem to charm out of her.”

  “Richard Freestone and Muffin!” one of the volunteers called from the front of the room.

  “You’re up,” I said. “Break a leg.”

  He gave me a look that said I was daft and I cringed.

  “Sorry, I was thinking in American theater talk, you know, because of the superstition against saying ‘good luck’ to a performer.”

  “Ah,” he said. He gave me a small smile. “This is a bit of a spectacle. I can understand the confusion.”

  With a small wave, he and Muffin trotted off toward the door.

  I waited a bit before I followed. Yes, I admit it. I wanted to see how a three-time reigning champion attacked the course.

  The first person I saw when I slipped into the arena was Andre. He was adjusting a camera on a tripod that he had focused on the equipment. I bet he was getting some spectacular shots of the dogs. I didn’t want to interrupt, so I stayed back so as not to distract him.

  Richard and Muffin hit the course like a force of nature. Much like Freddy, Muffin knew exactly what to do. She hit all the tricks, bending and twisting on her feet, never losing a second. When she broke into a run for the finish line, I had one eye on her and one on the clock, hoping Freddy’s time would hold.

  Richard was right beside her as they crossed over and the crowd went wild. I scanned the crowd for a glimpse of Harry’s face. He was staring at me, looking wide-eyed and nervous. Aunt Betty was just down the row from him. Her hands were clasped in front of her as if she was praying very hard. And then Muffin’s time came up. She was two-tenths of a second off Freddy’s time. He retained the lead.

  I let out a whoop, which I immediately tried to stifle by clapping a hand over my mouth. Instead, I stamped my feet, feeling the need to let the emotion out. I met Harry’s gaze and he grinned, clearly delighted. Aunt Betty had risen from her seat and was doing some sort of dance that looked like a very bad “Gangnam Style.” I gestured to Harry that he needed to nip that.

  He gave me a quick nod and started to make his way to Aunt Betty. I wondered if I should go back to the competitors’ room and see if I could learn anything else. I couldn’t imagine that I would.

  Honestly, finding out that Richard had a thing for Betty was probably the most interesting tidbit, even though I had no intention of telling her. If Richard wanted to make a move, it was up to him. I wasn’t about to help him, especially during a competition when Aunt Betty, and by association Freddy, could be thrown off by such a declaration.

  Also, there was the info that Swendson had been trying to get Liza removed from the board. I wasn’t sure what I would do with it, but if Liza continued to make things difficult for Freddy, I might have to mention it to the powers that be.

  I watched the rest of the competition but it was clear that so far the big crystal bowl of kibble was going to be won by Freddy or Muffin. Henry was an outlier who stood a chance but the rest of the dogs seemed way out of their league. Yes, of course, I was totally biased but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t true.

  By the time the competition ended, I was sagging against Harrison as we walked to his car, which was parked in a small lot down the street. The day’s events had been utterly exhausting and I couldn’t wait to be tucked up in my bed with my book. I needed something to take me completely out of my present mental state and the historical mystery I was presently reading, C. S. Harris’s Sebastian St. Cyr series, was just the ticket. It would be hard to retain my current level of anxiety if I was kicking butt and taking names in Victorian London.

  As Harry ushered us down the sidewalk, he whispered in my ear, “My place tonight?”

  “I would,” I said, “but I have to be back here bright and early with Freddy for part two of the competition. Apparently, tomorrow is the obedience portion and then there’s a parade.”

  “Yes, it’s just fabulous,” Aunt Betty cut in. “The obedience segment is not nearly as exhaus
ting as the agility tests, but you do have to have him answer your commands. And as for the parade around Finchley Park, you simply have to wear the hats Viv made. You and Freddy will look amazing, but it’s very important that he not get off task, so you’ll have to be wary of rats, snakes and anything else your competition can throw at you.”

  “Like, literally throw at me?” I asked. I tucked my chin in and looked at her from beneath my brow. “Why wasn’t this mentioned to me before?”

  “Don’t worry,” she said. She patted my hand. “Only humans have died while competing in PAWS.”

  “Humans plural?” I asked. We reached Harry’s car and he opened the front passenger door, waiting for Aunt Betty to climb in.

  “Well, if you include Gerry Swendson, yes, there’ve been two,” she said.

  I did not find this reassuring. I knew I shouldn’t ask but I did anyway. “How did the other person die?”

  “It was a freak accident when they were crossing through the park in the parade,” she said. “A car jumped the curb and ran the person over. The dog was heartbroken and had to be taken out of the competition, naturally.”

  “How long ago was this?”

  “Three years ago. The very first year Freddy and I competed,” she said. “The dog, Annie, a beautiful brindle, was a sure thing, too. So sad. I heard she went to live out her days with a family friend in Devon, but she never competed again. You know, I used to just come and watch the shows, never dreaming that I would one day be entered, but now here I am and Freddy is a contender. Dreams can come true.”

  I glanced at Harry. Yes, they could, I thought. The return smile he sent my way made my heart kick up a notch and I was almost tempted to ditch my book for him, but I was exhausted and I did not want to be accused of neglecting my fictional boyfriend St. Cyr.

  “Shall we meet at Finchley Park at eight o’clock in the morning?” I asked. “You can drill me on the obedience commands.”

  “No. Aunt Betty, Freddy and I will come collect you at the shop,” Harry said. “I think until we know exactly what happened to Swendson, it’s best if we stay in a group.”

  “I think you mean a pack,” I said. “A dog pack. And just so we’re all clear, I’m the alpha.”

  “Of course you are, love,” Harry said. He kissed me on the head, not giving me a chance to see if he was being sarcastic or not.

  “But I do agree. We need to remain vigilant, especially since Freddy remains in the lead,” I said. “You never know who might want to change that by any means possible.”

  “You’re not selling me on the idea of keeping you in the competition, Ginger,” Harry said.

  “Sorry.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry,” Aunt Betty said. “This girl can handle herself. No worries.”

  I grinned. I wondered why Aunt Betty had never married. She was cute and funny and clearly had a lot of love to give. I wondered, again, if I should mention Richard Freestone’s interest in her. For some reason, I was hesitant, which was extraordinary because I am something of a meddler; just ask Viv about Alistair. But perhaps it was because I didn’t know Aunt Betty or Richard Freestone as well as I knew Viv and Alistair. I’d wait until the end of the competition and see.

  When Freddy handed Muffin her first loss, I’d have a better idea what sort of man Richard Freestone was and then we could ascertain if there was something worth pursuing.

  * * *

  * * *

  “Are you sure he knows what ‘sit’ means?” I asked.

  We were standing in Finchley Park, freezing in the bitter morning cold, while Freddy, who appeared to have woken up on the cranky side of surly, stood staring at me with the look of a toddler who was willfully ignoring everyone around him.

  “Of course he does,” Aunt Betty said. “He just doesn’t like the cold.”

  “That makes two of us,” I said. I shivered in my wool coat. I couldn’t feel the end of my nose and my toes were rapidly losing feeling as well.

  Harry had gone inside the building to see if there’d been any news about Swendson, but he hadn’t returned.

  “Freddy, you are being a very naughty boy,” Aunt Betty said. Freddy turned his head away as if he didn’t want to hear it. The canine equivalent of a teenage eye roll.

  “Let’s go in,” I said. “Maybe it’s just too cold out here for him to think. I know it’s too cold for me.”

  Aunt Betty glanced between us and then nodded. She took his leash and led him toward the building and I fell into step beside her.

  We were about twenty yards away when the doors were thrust open and Harrison came charging out. Beside him was DI Bronson. Neither of them looked happy, but Harry looked less so. Oh, dear.

  “Ms. Wentworth,” Bronson said at the same time Harry called, “Aunt Betty!”

  Instinctively, I moved closer to Aunt Betty.

  “Yes, what is it?” Aunt Betty glanced between them.

  “Alistair is on his way,” Harrison said.

  “I’d like to ask you a few questions,” Bronson said at the same time.

  Aunt Betty stopped walking. She looked up at me and said, “Do you mind, dear?”

  She handed me Freddy’s leash.

  “No, not at all,” I said.

  She stiffened her spine and said, “I’m happy to answer any questions you have, Detective Inspector.”

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “After Alistair gets here,” Harry insisted.

  “No, now,” Aunt Betty said. “Scarlett and Freddy are competing soon and I’m not going to miss it.”

  “Speaking of which, could we go inside?” I asked. “I’m frozen.”

  “Of course,” Bronson agreed. “We’ll head right to the office.”

  He led the way and Betty followed him. I shrugged at Harry while Freddy tugged on his leash until he was right beside Betty. I did admire his loyalty.

  Harry frowned and pulled out his phone. He thumbed a contact that I knew would be Alistair. I could hear him grumbling into his phone as we followed. The hall was still mostly empty but volunteers were setting up the judges’ table and the small arena where the obedience portion would take place.

  There was an air of expectation about the place, which was odd given that the owner of the sponsoring company had been found dead just yesterday. I would have thought there’d have been a pall over the event, but no. I wondered how liked Gerry Swendson was. I was guessing not very. How sad. All that money and success and yet no one really mourned him.

  Once in the office, Bronson gestured to a chair and Aunt Betty sat down. I took the vacant seat beside her while Freddy sat between our feet. Harry had ended his call and was pacing.

  “I really think you should wait for Alistair, Aunt Betty,” he said.

  “No need,” she said. “I’m sure Detective Inspector Bronson is just going to ask me about the poison that killed Gerry Swendson.”

  We all froze. The clock ticking on the wall behind Bronson was the loudest sound in the room.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Wentworth, did you say ‘poison’?” Bronson asked.

  “Yes.” Aunt Betty met his gaze as if it were the most natural thing in the world to know the cause of death without being a medical examiner.

  Bronson blinked. “How did you know he was poisoned?”

  Chapter 11

  Harrison let out a very rude, very loud curse. Aunt Betty looked at him in dismay. “There’s no need for that sort of language, Harrison.”

  “I’d say there’s every need,” he muttered. Then he looked abashed and said, “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s better,” she said.

  “How did you know?” Bronson asked again. The frown was getting deeper as if the unhappy vee between his eyes was now permanent.

  “Don’t answer unti—” Harry said but Aunt Betty interrupted.

  “Common
sense,” she said. “He was clearly murdered, otherwise why hide the body? And it had to be poison because as Scarlett remarked after she found him, there wasn’t a mark on him except for the bluish tinge to his fingertips and lips.”

  “So, you’re saying you just deduced that it was poison?” Bronson asked.

  “Exactly,” she said.

  “What sort of poison?”

  “Well, I’m sure I don’t know that,” Aunt Betty said. “I mean, it’s not like I poisoned him.” The three of us stared at her. She put her hand over her mouth. “Oh, is that what you thought?”

  Harry rubbed a hand over his face and Bronson pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and his index finger as if to squeeze away a headache. I blew out a breath. This was turning into quite the pickle. Aunt Betty looked so distraught that I felt the need to make her feel better.

  “Actually, I was thinking the exact same thing,” I said. Harry looked at me with wide eyes while Bronson narrowed his eyes at me. “Well, I was.”

  The office door banged open and we all turned.

  “Oy, what’s this?” Alistair Turner stood there, looking impeccable in a dark gray suit and white shirt with a bold blue necktie. “Aunt Betty, I thought we agreed that there would be no interviews with the police unless I was present.”

  “That was fast,” I said.

  “He was already here, planning to talk to Aunt B before meeting with another client,” Harry explained.

  Aunt Betty looked at Alistair and then leaned forward and whispered to me, “Why won’t Viv date him? He’s adorable.”

  Of course, her whisper wasn’t a whisper and everyone heard it. I saw Alistair close his eyes for a second as if searching for patience and I decided to throw caution to the wind, because that seemed entirely appropriate.

  “Because she’s thick,” I said. “However, I happen to think that our assistant, Fee, who’s rather stunning herself, would be delighted to date him.”

  “Ginger, it’s not really the time or place for matchmaking,” Harry said.