The Bark Before Christmas

by Laurien Berenson

  “Maybe things are different in Non-Sporting.” Sondra’s tone was lofty. “But Terriers are an extremely competitive group.”

  Yeah, right. That was how it worked. My group was easy.

  “They’re all dog lovers,” I said shortly. “Trust me, they’ll pitch in.”

  And they did. In no time at all, we had searchers peering into booths and checking under tables in every quadrant of the room. Teachers, kids and exhibitors all helped look. Vendors who were too busy to stop what they were doing, nevertheless promised to keep an eye out for the small white dog. Shoppers did the same.

  The first thing I did was post volunteer guards at both doors. Assuming that Kiltie hadn’t left the building, he wasn’t going to be allowed to do so on my watch. My next stop was the photo booth in case Kiltie had gone there looking for the company of other dogs. To my surprise, however, the booth was deserted. Evidently it was still on a break.

  On an easier day, that would have concerned me. I would have done something about it right away. Now it was just one more problem to be dealt with as soon as I got the chance.

  Twenty hectic, nonproductive minutes later, I circled back past the photo booth once again. This time Bertie, Eli, and Cooper were there. The photographer and his assistant were fiddling with their equipment. Bertie just looked annoyed. Hands on her hips, she was staring at Santa’s empty throne.

  “You look frazzled,” she said as I approached.

  “I am frazzled,” I said. “We have a missing dog.”

  Cooper and Eli stopped what they were doing and glanced over. Nobody seemed very impressed by my news.

  “A very valuable dog,” I told them. “A top show dog.”

  Bertie’s eyes widened. “Not Kiltie?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Then you’re probably not going to want to hear about our problem,” she said.

  I took a deep breath and asked, “What now?”

  “Santa Claus is missing, too.”

  Chapter 10

  I must have misheard her, I thought.

  “What do you mean missing?” I asked.

  “Gone,” said Bertie. She flicked a hand through the air. “Vanished. Poof!”

  I looked over at the guys. “Where did he go?”

  “If we knew that,” said Eli, “we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  He had a good point.

  “He went on a break,” I said stupidly. “You all did.”

  “And the rest of us came back,” said Bertie. “Santa disappeared.”

  I looked around the small, unhappy group. “What about Claire?”

  “She’s still looking for him,” Cooper told me. “We already tried that. Eventually we gave up. But that Claire, she’s an optimist.”

  Yes, she was, I thought. Good for her.

  “She’s wasting her time,” said Eli. “Even at a Christmas bazaar, it’s difficult to misplace a Santa Claus.”

  Yet another good point, unfortunately.

  A thread of hysteria bubbled up within me. On top of everything else, this could not be happening now.

  “But . . .” I stammered. “He can’t be gone. You can’t run the booth without a Santa Claus.”

  Eli nodded. “That’s why we’re packing up. If that guy’s left we might as well call it a day, too.”

  “It’s only four o’clock!” I said. “The bazaar doesn’t end for two more hours.”

  Eli shrugged. “Not our fault. Tell that to your Santa Claus.”

  There were several things I’d like to tell our Santa Claus, I thought grimly. If only I could find him. And our missing Westie. And maybe a few quiet moments to myself in which to have a peaceful breakdown.

  “Problem?” asked Mr. Hanover.

  Damn! How did he always manage to do that? The headmaster had an unerring ability to find me whenever I least wanted to see him.

  “Um . . ” I said, stalling in the hope that something brilliant came to mind. Nothing did. I might as well just blurt out the news. “Our Santa Claus seems to have disappeared.”

  The headmaster nodded gravely. “Is that all?”

  “All, Mr. Hanover?”

  “I see a number of young people running around the room opening up boxes and peering beneath tables. Surely they’re not looking for Santa Claus?”

  “No,” I admitted. “We also have a missing dog.”

  “A very valuable dog,” Bertie added helpfully.

  I could have kicked her.

  Mr. Hanover sighed. “And here it seemed as though everything was going so well.”

  “It was going well,” I said. “And I’m sure we’ve raised lots of money for the school’s scholarship fund. Now we just have a few minor glitches to deal with.”

  “Minor glitches,” Eli chortled under his breath.

  I aimed a glare in his direction. Really? Could nobody help me out here?

  “Under the circumstances, I suggest we announce that the photo booth is closed for the day,” Mr. Hanover said.

  I nodded in agreement.

  “That done, you might apply yourself to finding the very valuable dog.”

  “That’s next on my list,” I told him.

  “Should our Santa Claus reappear, please send him to my office.”

  “Will do,” Bertie volunteered.

  “One more thing, Ms. Travis . . .” said Mr. Hanover. “About the dog?”

  “Kiltie,” I supplied. “He’s a West Highland White Terrier.”

  “I’m afraid his breed affiliation is immaterial to me. What I would like to know is, to whom does he belong?”

  “Sondra McEvoy,” I said.

  “Poppy’s mother.”

  It wasn’t a question. I nodded anyway.

  “Lovely girl,” the headmaster mused. “Reminds me of Pippi Longstocking.”

  Six hundred students in the school and Mr. Hanover knew every single one on sight. I’d never managed to trip him up yet. Not that I tried, mind you.

  “Mrs. McEvoy is not only a Howard Academy parent,” he said. “She is also a generous school alumna.”

  “Oh,” I said aloud. Ouch, I thought to myself.

  Mr. Hanover brought his thumb and forefinger together and pinched the bridge of his nose, just below where his glasses rested. “Oh indeed. Are we in any way responsible for her dog’s disappearance?”

  “I can’t imagine how,” I told him.

  “Good. Let’s keep it that way, shall we?”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Mr. Hanover left us. Oh my God, Bertie mouthed as he walked away. “Is he always like that?”

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “I think the word you’re looking for is scary,” said Cooper.

  “I heard that,” Mr. Hanover called back over his shoulder.

  We stared at each other in horror. Fortunately the headmaster kept on walking. We waited in silence until he’d disappeared into the crowd.

  I don’t know about the others, but I was holding my breath. When I let it out, it was as if a burst of pent-up tension went with it. Unexpectedly I began to giggle.

  After a moment, the other three joined in. There was nothing even remotely amusing about the situation. Maybe that was why we couldn’t seem to stop laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” asked Claire, reappearing suddenly on the other side of the booth.

  She was still wearing her elf costume, right down to the pointy shoes and the stupid feather in her cap. I had started to sober up, but the sight of her set me off all over again.

  “Nothing,” I finally managed to gasp a minute later when I’d caught my breath. “Nothing at all.” I bit my lip to tamp down more giggles and tried for a serious expression. “No sign of Santa Claus?”

  “None,” Claire said unhappily. “And I’ve looked everywhere. Even in this crowd a guy like that would be hard to lose. He’s not here.”

  “Santa has left the building,” Cooper intoned.

  That wasn’t funny. Or even slightly helpf
ul.

  Sensitive to the change in mood, Eli grabbed his assistant. The two of them went back to packing up.

  “I heard you lost a dog, too,” said Claire.

  “Who told you that?”

  “Some woman over by the raffle booth. She’s throwing a pretty good hissy fit.”

  “That would be Sondra,” I said with a sigh.

  “And,” Claire added, “she’s threatening to sue someone.”

  “Not me, I hope,” I muttered.

  “Nah.” Bertie reached over and patted my arm comfortingly. “You’re only a teacher. You’re off the hook. People who want to sue always go for the deep pockets.”

  “I’ve got news for you,” I said. “Sondra and Jim McEvoy are the deep pockets. If Sondra’s upset enough to bring legal action, it won’t be because she needs the money.”

  “Whose fault is it that her dog is missing?” Claire asked.

  “I have no idea,” I said. “Still, I’d better go see what I can do to smooth things over.”

  I found Sondra at the raffle booth. She was just standing there, staring at Kiltie’s empty crate as if she expected the Westie to magically reappear. She was so upset that she was shaking.

  “Sondra,” I said quietly. “I am so sorry—”

  “You should be!” She spun around to face me. “This is all your fault.”

  In the face of her outburst, I felt myself growing oddly calmer. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because if you hadn’t come up with the idiotic idea for that Santa Claus and Pets Booth, Poppy would never have wanted to bring Kiltie to the bazaar in the first place. And now he’s disappeared!”

  The booth hadn’t been my idea, I was only a last-minute substitution. There didn’t seem to be any reason to point that out, however.

  “We still have people looking—” I began.

  “For all the good that’s doing!”

  “Tell me what I can do to be of assistance,” I said. “Do you want me to call your husband?”

  “Are you kidding me?” Sondra cried.

  Oh crap, wrong again. Why hadn’t I stopped to think before opening my mouth? If, as I’d suspected earlier, the McEvoy parents had arranged their participation in the bazaar to avoid seeing one another, there was nothing to be gained by that suggestion.

  “Jim doesn’t care in the slightest about Kiltie,” Sondra snapped. “He never has. He thinks dog shows are a waste of time and money. Kiltie is my dog. Mine and nobody else’s.”

  Thank goodness Poppy wasn’t there to hear that, I thought. Judging by our conversations, I was quite certain that the girl cared for Kiltie every bit as much as her mother did.

  “I can’t just stand here,” said Sondra. “I need to do something useful. I’m going to go down to the police station and file a report.”

  Aunt Peg had tried to do that very same thing once herself—when her stud dog, Beau, had gone missing in the middle of the night. The police had brushed off her concerns and referred her to animal control. Half a dozen years had passed since then. I hoped for Sondra’s sake that her complaint received more attention from the authorities than Aunt Peg’s had.

  “That’s a good start,” I said. “But you’ll also need to widen your search. You should make up flyers and post them in all the local schools and businesses. And call every vet in Fairfield County. Maybe Westchester, too. You’ll also want to check with all the animal shelters.”

  Sondra paled at the thought of Kiltie in a shelter. But I could see her thinking things through and stiffening her spine.

  “Kiltie is microchipped,” she said. “That will help. And I’ll offer a big reward for his return. Someone must have seen him. Maybe somebody’s already picked him up. All I have to do is make it worth their while to bring him back.”

  I could only hope that the situation would resolve itself that easily. There was nothing that worried me more than the thought of a lost dog. Poodles don’t roam, they prefer to be where their people are. Nevertheless, we had a secure fence around our two-acre backyard and I checked the gates daily. The mere thought of losing one of our Poodle pack made me go all hollow inside.

  Sondra opened her purse, took out a piece of paper, and scribbled down her phone number. “Call me right away if you hear anything.”

  “Of course.” I nodded.

  She reached behind the booth and picked up Kiltie’s empty crate. The second crate, where Coco Lily was now confined, was hers as well. Neither one of us mentioned it. Sondra walked past me and began to leave.

  “Wait!” I called after her. “What about Poppy?”

  Sondra barely paused. Distracted, deep in thought, she repeated her daughter’s name back to me as though it meant nothing to her. “Poppy?”

  “We should find her,” I said. “Don’t you want to take her home with you?”

  Still walking, Sondra didn’t even bother to turn around. She gave her head a dismissive shake as if she couldn’t be bothered to think about anything that might delay her quest to find her dog.

  “Poppy can catch a ride with someone else,” she said. And then she was gone.

  Taken by surprise, I simply stood and stared into the jostling throng of people where Sondra had disappeared. Holy crap on a cracker. Had that really just happened? Did Sondra actually intend to leave her daughter at the bazaar without even bothering to tell her that she needed to find her own way home?

  I waited several seconds for Sondra to reappear. It didn’t happen.

  Wonderful. Now someone needed to find Poppy and tell her what was going on. Once again, it looked as though that job had fallen to me.

  I found her at the food concession with Charlotte. Poppy was showing the man who was running the grill the picture of Kiltie that she had on her phone.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I haven’t seen him.”

  “If you could keep an eye out for him, I would appreciate it,” she replied politely. As she and Charlotte turned away, Poppy saw me heading toward them. Her face lit up. “Did you find Kiltie?” she asked.

  “No,” I told her gently. “I’m afraid he’s still missing.”

  “Oh.”

  A wealth of disappointment was contained in that single syllable. Poppy looked so small and fragile that I wanted to reach out and hug her. Then I amended that thought silently. I wanted Poppy’s mother to be there to hug her.

  “I came to tell you that your mother had to leave,” I said.

  Poppy looked up. “Without me?”

  “She wanted to go to the police station and file a report about Kiltie.” That sounded every bit like the miserable excuse it was. “She thought you could find a ride with someone else?”

  “Don’t worry,” said Charlotte. “My mom will take you home.”

  “Thanks,” Poppy replied with a small smile. “That’s very nice of her.”

  I looked at the two of them. “Does that happen often?” I asked Poppy.

  Her slender shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. “Sometimes. My mom gets busy, you know?”

  I got busy too, I thought crossly. But I never forgot where my children were, or who they were with.

  “So you two girls are good?” I asked.

  Both of them nodded.

  “Charlotte, I never got a chance to ask you earlier . . . you know that Coco Lily got out of her crate this afternoon, right?”

  “Yes,” she replied in a small voice.

  “Do you have any idea how that happened?”

  “No, I don’t.” Charlotte looked up imploringly. “Honest, Ms. Travis, I would tell you if I knew. Mrs. McEvoy asked me the same thing. She thought I did something clumsy . . . or stupid. But after we put Kiltie and Coco Lily in their crates, I wasn’t anywhere near them. And neither was Poppy.”

  Charlotte looked at her friend who nodded in confirmation. “We were together all afternoon. You have to believe me.”

  “I do believe you,” I told her. “Whatever happened with those two dogs, I don’t see any reason to think that you girls ha
d any part in it.”

  “Tell that to my mother,” Poppy said unhappily. “If she doesn’t get Kiltie back . . .”

  I waited but she didn’t finish the thought.

  “What?” I prompted. “What will happen if she doesn’t find Kiltie?”

  “Everyone will be sorry,” Poppy whispered. “My mother will make sure of that.”

  Well, that was a depressing note on which to end what otherwise looked to have been a reasonably successful day. The event was finally in its last hour and now that it was nearing its conclusion, I realized how exhausted I was. Since eight o’clock that morning I’d been on my feet and running around, senses on high alert and humming with the need to detect and respond to potential problems. Now I couldn’t wait to go home, kick off my shoes, pull a Poodle into my lap, and close my eyes for a few minutes.

  Alas, it wasn’t to be just yet.

  The auditorium was beginning to empty. After a full day’s work, the vendors and other volunteers were just as eager to be on their way as I was. So when Mr. Hanover’s secretary entered the big room through the main door and paused for a quick scan around, she had no difficulty spotting me.

  Harriet wasn’t the kind of woman who moved quickly. Seated behind her desk outside the headmaster’s office, she projected a pleasant, placid, demeanor that school parents found wonderfully reassuring. Beneath that unruffled exterior, however, was a smart, sensible woman who had the tenacity of a Pit Bull when it came to protecting her boss’s interests.

  When she caught my eye and immediately began to hurry toward me, I knew something was up. I also knew that it probably wasn’t good. I crossed the room and met her halfway.

  “Mr. Hanover wants to see you in his office,” Harriet said. “Right away.”

  Out of breath, she lifted a hand and pressed her palm against her chest, as if to calm her pounding heart. That action was somehow even more alarming than the message she’d conveyed.

  “I’ll go right now,” I told her. “Do you know what it’s about?”

  Harriet leaned in close as if she wanted to be sure that we wouldn’t be overheard. Even though there was nobody near us, I found myself doing the same.

  “The police are here,” she whispered in my ear.

  I drew back in surprise. “Already?”