“Hey!” she protested.
It was too late. Harry jumped off the podium and launched the bowl into the air. I felt my heart surge up into my throat and as one every single person in the arena gasped. Out of nowhere, two steady hands appeared and snatched the bowl. The person tucked and rolled and bounced back up on his feet with the bowl perfectly intact. Alistair!
I sagged in relief, realized I was squeezing Bella too hard and loosened my grip. Her big brown eyes popped open and I said, “It’s okay, baby girl.”
“Your timing is impeccable, just like on the pitch,” Harry said. He clapped Alistair on the back as they walked toward the podium, where Aunt Betty stood, glaring at Liza.
Detective Inspector Bronson strode forward. It was clear he’d been watching everything. The look on his face was severe and it was my fondest hope that he’d arrest Liza for being, well, a horrible human seemed legit.
Mary Swendson stepped forward. She gently took the mic from Claudia, who still clutched it in her hands.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please, let’s all calm down and in an orderly fashion proceed to the high tea that’s been arranged for our winners,” she said. “Anything that needs to be sorted can be done so over tea and scones. Correct, Detective Inspector?”
Bronson hesitated for a moment. He surveyed the room and then he nodded. I suspected he just wanted to contain the crazy so he could get to the bottom of things.
Mary gestured for the PAWS volunteers to lead the way. Slowly the winners climbed off the dais. Harry assisted Aunt Betty down and we clustered around her as the other guests joined their winners and in staggered groups we headed toward a door at the end of the arena.
“Excuse me.” Liza stopped in front of Alistair with her hands out.
“May I be of assistance?” Alistair asked. His expression was bland.
“Yes, you can give me that,” she snapped. She lunged for the bowl but Alistair held it over his head, which was too high for even the tall Liza to reach, as evidenced by her jumping swipes acquiring nothing. Although, I did give her props for trying.
“Liza, what are you doing?” Claudia snapped. “Control yourself. We’ll figure this out at the tea.”
“What’s there to figure out?” Liza asked. “She”—she pointed to Aunt Betty—“is not the winner and neither is she.” She pointed at me.
I passed Bella to a startled Viv and stepped forward so that I was nose to chin with Liza. “But he is!” I snapped and pointed to Freddy. “And you’re not going to take it away from him.”
She stepped back and stared down her nose at me. “We’ll see.”
I don’t think I ever wanted to punch anyone so much in my life. Yes, this even superseded my desire to put a hurt on Penelope Young, and that was saying something.
In the tea room, the professional catering crew that had been hired for the event stood along one wall as if uncertain what to do. Mary signaled to them to commence serving, for which I was grateful because I was starving.
Alistair stayed by Aunt Betty’s side and held on to the crystal bowl for her. Liza looked like she’d snatch it from him if he loosened his hold even a little. Harry flanked him, obviously offering his friend backup.
Our group found our table and we all sat, with Harry and Alistair sitting on each side of Aunt Betty. I noticed the other competitors had large entourages and tables all to themselves as well. Richard had a group of young women with him, they were all taking pictures with him and Muffin, and I got the feeling that they were his online followers as opposed to actual friends. I deduced this from the painful conversation I was overhearing—all right, eavesdropping on.
“Mr. Freestone, how old are you?” one of the young women asked. She was a doe-eyed ingenue, who looked barely legal. “I only ask because in your profile picture, you look so much younger.”
She bit her lip as if embarrassed by her own honesty. I wanted to turn and tell her that he was old enough to be her father but I didn’t. Mostly because Viv had set Bella down and she was busily investigating the area. I wondered if she was hungry or had to go outside. Poor thing.
Richard answered her in a low tone that I couldn’t quite make out over the conversation of the rest of the room. Whatever he’d said made her giggle and I had a feeling it was a pivot, not revealing his true age but mentioning his social media prowess.
I glanced at the door and noticed that Detective Inspector Bronson was watching a heated exchange between Liza and Claudia. I was certain Liza was pressing her case to have Aunt Betty and me disqualified and Richard moved into first place. I glanced at Richard’s table and saw him smile at his bevy of beauties and then look at Liza with a cold, calculated stare.
It hit me then that all of his talk about being in the dog show for Betty was a load of bunk. He had a table full of hot young things, he had a huge career as the winner of the PAWS dog show every year, and his lack of involvement when Liza tried to strip Aunt Betty of her award proved that he’d just been trying to sweet-talk me with a pledge of affection for Aunt Betty.
That pompous blowhard, as Aunt Betty had called him, didn’t care one tail wag about Aunt Betty as a woman, a competitor or a friend. I watched as his entourage fussed over him and Muffin, pouring his tea and plating his tiny sandwiches. I wanted to throw something at him, preferably a teapot. I’d been so gullible when he said he cared about her, romanticizing something between him and Aunt Betty, when he was probably just looking for information. Ugh.
Liza had said he had a fortune in endorsements. If it was true that Swendson was trying take over PAWS by getting rid of Liza and hiring new people, it might have meant Swendson was looking for a return on his investment. He may have wanted Muffin and Richard to not win again so as to keep the contest fresh. Was this common knowledge? Did Mary, Claudia or Tilly know? Suddenly I felt as if I was in the dog show version of Game of Thrones, where everyone lied and had hidden motives and who knew who would be the victor in the end?
“Bella, no, that’s not yours,” Viv scolded the puppy.
I glanced under the tablecloth and saw Bella chewing on Viv’s purse strap. It was covered in drool and the leather had multiple puncture wounds. Nuts! This was not going to help me convince Viv to let her spend her days with us.
I looked over to the side of the room where Mary, Claudia and Liza stood, still arguing about the end result of the dog show. It didn’t appear they were going to come to terms. Detective Inspector Bronson stepped back, obviously not wanting to mediate the outcome.
“Alistair, maybe you could go work your lawyerly magic,” Harry said. “I have a feeling they’re not getting anywhere over there.”
It was true. The finger-pointing and gesturing between Liza and Claudia was still happening, while Mary and now Tilly, too, stood watching them as if unsure of whose side to take.
“I was just thinking that,” Alistair said. Deftly he reached for a mini egg salad sandwich on the three-tiered plate on the table and popped it into this mouth before he went to join the discussion. He was gone only a few minutes. Both women seemed happy to unload onto a new person.
When Alistair returned his expression was grim. “Aunt Betty, do you remember signing a waiver when you registered?”
“Yes, it’s standard,” Aunt Betty declared.
Alistair turned to Viv. He looked professional, as always, but there was a flash in his eyes, a look of longing so strong I felt it pull at my heart strings. I glanced at Fee. She was watching him with interest—not of a romantic sort but more like she was curious about the situation.
“Do you remember signing a waiver, Viv?”
“There was a waiver? What waiver?” she asked. “The woman at the registration didn’t give me any forms to sign other than the registration paper.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Aunt Betty said. “I already filled out the waiver when I registered Freddy the first time, so he
should be covered.”
“Not if your first registration is deemed ineligible,” Alistair said.
“Which it was,” Liza snapped as she strode toward our table. “Your first registration doesn’t count. I don’t care if this idiot”—she gestured to me and my mouth fell open in shock—“did let you stand on the podium in her stead, she was the registered handler and the release form was to be filled out by her. As it states in the bylaws, any missing paperwork will be considered a disqualifier from the competition.”
Harry was half out of his seat, ready to take her down for insulting me, bless him, but I grabbed his arm and pulled him back into his seat.
“But Ginger, she—” he protested.
“It’s okay. Let’s see how this plays out,” I said.
“As the head judge, I say that’s ridiculous,” Claudia said. She stood beside Liza, glaring at her. “I don’t understand why you’re being like this. Freddy is the winner and any registration issues are on us, don’t you agree, Mary?”
Mary Swendson approached the two women, looking very grave. She glanced between them and sighed. “Actually, I’m with Liza on this, Claudia. Rules are rules. If we bend the rules this time, we’ll have to bend the rules all the time. I hate to say this, especially over a paperwork glitch, but the first-place finish belongs to Mr. Freestone.”
Aunt Betty gasped. Our table, being on the rowdy side, broke into a chorus of arguments, with everyone shouting and no one listening. It rather reminded me of social media these days. A whole lot of yelling into the void. So tiresome. Bronson, who’d been observing the situation, hurried across the room.
Aunt Betty looked stricken as Liza reached for the crystal bowl, but Alistair was there to intercept it. “Not so fast,” he said.
Harry began to stand as if he’d take on the women in defense of Aunt Betty. Admirable, but it wasn’t going to help at the moment. Again, I pulled him back down.
Claudia raised her hands, indicating that everyone should calm down. It didn’t work. Frustrated, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a silver whistle. She gave three short blasts, and the room instantly got quiet, except for Bella, who let out a mournful baby howl as if the whistle had hurt her ears.
Viv scooped her up from beneath the table and comforted her. I caught a grin from Fee, who noticed, too.
Once the room was silent, Mary glanced at Aunt Betty and then at Freddy and said, “I am so sorry.”
I got the feeling she was apologizing more to Freddy than Aunt Betty. I was not having it. Neither was Aunt Betty. She rose from her seat with all the dignity of the Queen and tossed her napkin onto the table.
“You can take your apology and stuff it,” she snapped. Bright splotches of color shone on her cheeks and her eyes crackled with a furious light. She rounded on Richard, marching toward his chair as if she intended to do him some harm. “This is your fault. I don’t know how and I don’t know why but you and your followers have completely corrupted the dog show, making a mockery of it. I’m sure you’re quite pleased with yourself but someday someone is going to take you down and I just hope I’m there to see it.”
“Now, Betty, my dear, I know you’re upset.” Richard held up his hands as if he was afraid he was going to have to ward her off. If he continued to use that condescending tone, he was going to have to fight me off. What an asshat.
It was then that I noticed Detective Inspector Bronson was pacing around the tables, watching the drama unfolding as if it were an episode of Broadchurch. He was studying all the players, obviously looking for something.
“To lose the dog show has to hurt,” Richard continued. “Of course, I wouldn’t know since I’ve never lost.” He gestured to Alistair to bring the crystal bowl to him. Alistair ignored him.
“You did lose,” Aunt Betty said. “The points were clear, Muffin lost to Freddy this year, and you can pretend that isn’t so but the numbers don’t lie.”
“And yet, I’m the winner and you’re the loser,” he said. His look was smug. “Despite the best efforts of your pack. You should choose your allies more wisely.”
Aunt Betty took a swipe at Richard, slapping his shoulder. Harry stepped forward and pulled Aunt Betty back. She was wagging a finger at Richard and said, “I know you’re responsible for this. Somehow, you orchestrated this whole thing. I know it. I just don’t know how to prove it. Too bad it wasn’t you who was poisoned.”
We all gasped. Had our sweet Aunt Betty really said such a mean-spirited thing? Detective Inspector Bronson strode forward and asked, “What was that, Ms. Wentworth?”
Betty turned and glared at him. “Don’t look so shocked. He’s got something on them, something on all of them.” She gestured at Liza, Claudia, Mary and Tilly.
Both Liza and Mary looked extremely offended. Claudia, on the other hand, looked thoughtful, while Tilly looked guilty. Huh.
“Ms. Wentworth, I have to say this outburst makes it look like you’d stop at nothing to win first place in the dog show,” Bronson said. “Perhaps it’s best if you come with me.”
“Now, wait one moment,” Alistair said. He stepped forward, still holding the bowl. “That’s my client.”
“You’re welcome to join us,” Bronson said. “We’re going to have another little chat about poison.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Harry protested. “Look at her. She’s tiny. Even if she did poison Swendson, which she didn’t, how could she possibly have stuffed his body under the podium? She wouldn’t even be able to heft one of his legs.”
Bronson crossed his arms over his chest and gave him a hard stare. “I imagine she had help.”
Harry put a hand over his chest. “Me?”
“Why don’t you both come with me?” Bronson asked. “And bring your lawyer, too. You’re going to need him.”
Bronson reached out for Betty’s arm, but Freddy jumped up between her and Bronson and began to growl and show his teeth.
“Restrain him,” Bronson said. “Or I’ll contact the animal warden to take him.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Aunt Betty said. She looked shocked.
“Try me,” Bronson said. “You had motive and opportunity and this display of anger just shows that you’re unstable.” It looked like the mild-mannered detective inspector we’d gotten used to had some bite with his bark.
“What a load of tosh!” Fee said. She rose from her seat and crossed her arms over her chest and glared. “Just because a woman is rightly upset does not mean she’s unstable.”
“Precisely,” Viv said. “Why shouldn’t Aunt Betty be upset when everyone is trying to take away an award she won outright? Of course she’s upset. If she were a man, you wouldn’t say she was unstable. You’d say she was being assertive.”
Bronson pinched the bridge of his nose, as if trying to activate some patience.
“They’re not wrong,” I said. I felt the need to add my opinion as the person who’d been in the dog show and as a woman. “You can’t go after Aunt Betty just because she is furious. She deserves to be angry.”
“Be that as it may,” Bronson said. “Whether she was treated unjustly or not, she just threatened the winner in the same manner Gerry Swendson was killed, so now there is reason to believe she may have committed a crime and for that I have to take her in for questioning.”
“Your reason is based solely on her refusal to give up an award she won fair and square,” I said. “You’d be better served to be asking why it’s so important to these people to take the award away from her, don’t you think?”
As if he understood, Freddy growled at Bronson again, this time showing some teeth. I quickly stepped forward and took charge of Freddy’s leash. Things were getting out of control and I blamed Liza and her histrionics for it. There was no need for her to take away Freddy’s award, not here, not now, but she was set on it. The question was why.
Richard ha
dn’t seemed upset to be runner-up and the crowd, while it favored Muffin, had been duly charmed by Freddy. I had been in charge of Freddy’s social media since the dog show began, and I had seen the dramatic increase in his popularity. The hats had been a big part of it, but it was mostly Freddy and his natural charm.
So why were Mary and Liza so intent on having Richard win again? I glanced at him. He was sipping his tea as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Almost as if this kerfuffle didn’t bother him in the least because he knew absolutely that things were going to go in his favor in the end. Huh.
Muffin had almost a million followers on her social media pages. She was a force in the dog world. It was well known that Richard didn’t have a regular job. He didn’t need to, as the endorsements kept him and Muffin living well above where he’d been when he adopted her four years ago. Could Mary’s and Liza’s determination to give him the award be because of the publicity Muffin generated for the event every year? Was the whole stupid thing rigged?
As I watched, Richard dabbed his lips with his napkin and then reached for another cucumber sandwich. He’d said he had feelings for Betty and yet when they were about to tear the award from her and give it to him, he’d said not a word. In fact, he’d been rather rude to her, proving my theory that he’d been faking his affection for Aunt B.
And as he sat there, unmoved by the chaos around him, I got the distinct feeling that he was in a position of power, which could mean only one thing. He knew who had killed Gerry Swendson, and he was using it as leverage to get what he wanted, which was the win in the PAWS dog show.
It was all so obvious now. The murderer had to be in the room, and if Bronson took Aunt Betty and Harry away for questioning, the real murderer would get away with it. I glanced at Tilly, Mary, Liza and Claudia. Richard had said Aunt Betty needed a better pack. Were these women his pack?
There was no question that all four women stood to gain from Gerry’s death in some way. Tilly could sell her half castle and move on with her lover. Mary would get complete control of the company. Liza wouldn’t have to deal with Gerry’s insane demands as a sponsor anymore. And Claudia could run the judging as she chose without his interference, without him telling her who would be the winner. She was the only one who was standing strong for Freddy. Was it because she’d gotten rid of Gerry and now felt she could declare the winner? It had to be one of these women, but which one?
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