The Bark Before Christmas

by Laurien Berenson

  “Aunt Peg offered my assistance to Sondra,” I said. “She thought I could ask some questions and maybe help figure out what happened.”

  “Peg is good at conscripting people and bending them to her will,” Meredith said with a laugh. “I believe she’s signed me up for some duties having to do with the PCA Foundation. Are you good at finding missing dogs?”

  “That remains to be seen,” I told her. “But I am pretty good at asking questions.”

  “Have at it then.” Meredith sat back in her chair and got comfortable. “What do you need to know?”

  “I’m trying to find people who might have had a grudge against Sondra, or who were upset with her for some reason. And I heard that she caused some trouble recently at the Tri-State Westie Club.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not say.”

  “No, that’s fine.” Meredith dismissed her own question. “I was just curious, but I suppose it doesn’t really matter. The story is hardly a secret. The entire membership of the club and half the Terriers breeders in this part of the country all seem to know about it.”

  “Are you a member of the Tri-State club?”

  “Nope. Not my breed.”

  Her tone indicated that the answer should have been obvious. Which I supposed it was.

  “But I have several friends who belong to the club,” she continued. “So I heard all about what happened. You know how dog people love to talk.”

  I nodded happily. I did indeed. It was that fortuitous fact that often made my life so much easier.

  “As you might imagine, a club that named itself Tri-State covers a pretty large area. There are members from western Connecticut, southern New York, and northern New Jersey. There’s a big mix of personalities in that group, not to mention the inevitable differences in breeding programs and goals. Some members are very involved in club business, others not at all.”

  “Where does Sondra fit into the mix?” I asked.

  “At one point, she was one of the VIPs at Tri-State. She held several offices, hosted club meetings at her house, and was co-chairman of the specialty show. But over the last couple years, her interest in the club and its activities has waned. I think her priorities have shifted. Having a dog as good as Kiltie has made her want to devote more time and energy to his career and less to all those club duties.”

  “Sondra must still care about what goes on there though,” I said, “because I heard she got a couple of novice breeders kicked out. “

  “Yes, she did. One breeder had her membership revoked by the board. The second one resigned in protest.”

  “That sounds pretty intense,” I said, shaking my head. “The dog clubs I’ve known are always thrilled to get new members. More hands equals less work for everyone. So I’m assuming that the person must have done something pretty awful for that to happen?”

  “It depends on who you talk to,” Meredith replied. “And also, I guess, on who you choose to believe. The woman Sondra took exception to was a real newbie, both to the breed and to the sport. She had two Westie bitches and a young dog that she’d bought from three different breeders in other parts of the country. None of the three were finished, though she was trying with all of them.” She paused, then added, “Not very successfully, I’m afraid.”

  “Owner handling?” I guessed.

  “Yes. That was part of the problem. It wasn’t all of it.”

  “I take it they weren’t very good representatives of the breed?”

  Meredith looked at me and sighed. “After all this blew up, I went back and looked at my notes. It turned out that I’d had occasion to judge two of the dogs. Neither did better under me than a low ribbon in a small class.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “They weren’t the worst Westies I’ve ever seen. But they certainly could have been better. In my opinion, the two I saw were barely show quality. And of course Rachel’s inexpert grooming didn’t do them any favors.”

  Westies are like Poodles in that learning how to groom them to advantage and present them in the show ring takes time and dedication. Talent helps, too. Both breeds are difficult for someone who’s just learning the ropes to have success with.

  “Everybody has to start somewhere,” I said. Not that far from the newbie ranks myself, I might have sounded slightly defensive.

  “Oh, I know that,” Meredith agreed. “We all were beginners once. What Rachel needed was for someone to take her under their wing and show her how things ought to be done.”

  “But that didn’t happen?”

  “I’m sure it would have. In time. Rachel should have just slowed down, taken a deep breath, and devoted herself to watching and learning. Plenty of dog people are willing to be generous with their expertise. I’d imagine she’d have found a mentor if she hadn’t been in such a big hurry.”

  “What did she do instead?” I asked.

  “Unfortunately Rachel got fed up with losing in the show ring. So she took the bitches and the dog home and bred them.”

  “To each other?”

  Meredith nodded. “Somehow she seemed to think that the puppies would turn out to be better than either of their parents.”

  “She would have been better off placing those dogs in good homes and starting over with better stock,” I said.

  “I know that, and you know that. But as I said, Rachel was impatient. She wanted to be a breeder.”

  “What about genetic testing?”

  “Whether it was due to ignorance or arrogance, I have no idea. But I gather that didn’t happen either.”

  That was really not good.

  “So Rachel ended up with two litters of pet quality puppies from untested parents that she needed to find homes for,” said Meredith. “And being new, she had no waiting list or connections. But since she was a member of the club, she felt that she was entitled to place an ad for the puppies on the Tri-State web site. She also wanted to have her name added to the club’s breeder referral list. And when Sondra found out about both those things, she threw a fit.”

  “It sounds like she might have had a good reason for that,” I pointed out.

  “For the initial objection, certainly. And Sondra wasn’t the only one who felt that way. None of the Tri-State breeders wanted to put their reputations behind puppies of that caliber. But Rachel Bright wasn’t a bad person. She was simply undereducated and somewhat misguided.”

  “The club should have taken her in hand and taught her what she needed to know,” I said. That was what my local Poodle club would have done.

  “Absolutely. And there were other members who realized that. Booting Rachel out the door was Sondra’s solution to the problem. But if you ask me, it was a knee-jerk reaction. And not everybody agreed with her.”

  “What happened then?” I asked.

  “The conflict caused a huge rift in the club. Some members backed Sondra because they thought she was right. Others backed her because they were playing politics and nobody ever wants to get on Sondra’s bad side. But Rachel had her sympathizers, too. In the end, the decision was left up to the board.”

  “I’m guessing Sondra would have had plenty of influence there,” I said.

  “It wasn’t just a matter of influence,” Meredith told me. “Even though she has let some other club activities go, Sondra is still a board member. So she was one of the people making the decision, and I gather that she harangued the other board members until they agreed with her. Or at least until they didn’t have the guts to vote against her. So Rachel was out.

  “And then, when the news was made public, another breeder that Rachel had become friends with, resigned as well. The club was left with the worst possible outcome. Two enthusiastic new members were lost to them and in the end, the only person who was happy about the way things turned out was Sondra.”

  “It sounds as though Tri-State could have found a much better way of handling things,” I said.

  “Of course they could have,�
�� Meredith replied briskly. “And they probably would have too, if Sondra hadn’t gotten involved and forced the resolution she wanted.”

  “When did all this happen?” I asked.

  “The ruckus started in October. The board voted late last month.”

  That would have been just a few weeks before the Christmas bazaar, I realized. Which might have left just enough time for someone who had a good reason to be furious at Sondra to plot and engineer a suitable revenge.

  “It isn’t hard to guess what you’re thinking,” said Meredith. “You’re wondering if Rachel had something to do with Kiltie’s disappearance.”

  “Aren’t you?” I asked.

  Instead of answering, Meredith glanced down and checked the time on her watch. “Rachel’s a real estate broker for one of the major agencies. She works at their office in White Plains. I bet you could probably find her there this morning if you want to talk to her about it.”

  I did indeed. That was a no-brainer.

  While Meredith looked up an address for me, I turned to Kevin. The toddler was sitting on the floor, leaning against my leg. A Richard Scarry book about cars and trucks was propped open in his lap. He looked up from the busy page to see what I wanted.

  “Ready to go?” I asked.

  “Ready, set, go!” he cried. It was close enough.

  “Thank you for taking the time to talk to me,” I said to Meredith as Kev and I paused in the hall to suit up again before heading back outside.

  “I hope I helped,” she replied. “Sondra McEvoy isn’t one of my favorite people, but nobody deserves to lose her dog.”

  “Quick answer,” I said. “Is Rachel Bright the kind of person who could have done something like that?”

  “I probably don’t know her well enough to say,” Meredith admitted. “But I do know one thing. Rachel Bright was angry about what Sondra did to her. Really, really, angry.”

  Was it too much to hope that I finally had a real lead to follow? I wondered as Kevin and I made the short trip from Rye Brook to White Plains. After all the running around I’d been doing on Sondra’s behalf, it would be about damn time. In the last five days, I’d turned up a lot of interesting information. But unfortunately none of it seemed to have brought me any closer to figuring out where Kiltie was.

  The real estate agency Rachel Bright worked for was located on a busy midcity street. I was lucky to find a parking space not too far away. Sometimes Kevin possesses boundless energy. Other times—usually when there’s something important I need to do—his little legs get tired before we’ve walked half a block.

  As I opened the door to the agency, a buzzer announced our arrival. The outer office consisted of a single large room that was sparsely furnished. There were four work stations, one allotted to each corner. A spindly looking artificial Christmas tree was plunked in the center of the floor between them. Kev loves everything about Christmas and even he wasn’t impressed. He barely gave the silver plastic tree a glance.

  Only two of the desks in the room were currently occupied, both of them by women. The two agents looked up as I closed the door behind me.

  “I’m looking for Rachel Bright,” I said.

  The woman at the near desk hopped up out of her chair and came quickly around to greet us. She looked enthusiastic, perky, and very eager to please. No doubt she was a good saleswoman. We hadn’t even met yet and I got the impression that she was already calculating my client potential.

  Too bad I was about to burst her bubble.

  “I’m Rachel Bright,” she said, hand extended. “How may I help you? Let me guess”—her gaze swept downward over Kevin, then back up—“I’m betting that you’re looking for a home in a good school district.”

  “Not exactly,” I replied. “My name is Melanie Travis. I was hoping to talk to you about your dogs.”

  “My dogs?”

  Rachel’s face fell. Then she swiftly recovered. I could almost see the wheels spinning as she remembered that houses weren’t the only thing she currently had for sale. Instantly she appeared to be recalculating her chances of closing a deal.

  “Of course,” she said smoothly. “You must be looking for a puppy?”

  Instead of waiting for my reply, Rachel hunkered down in front of Kevin. “Isn’t that right, little boy? I bet you want a puppy.”

  “Have a puppy,” Kevin announced. “Want fish.”

  Rachel opened her mouth, then snapped it shut again.

  Go, Kev, I thought. It was nice to see something slow down the relentless barrage of sales patter.

  “Maybe we could sit down for a minute?” I asked.

  “Sure,” said Rachel. “Over here.”

  She led the way to a pair of wooden chairs that were positioned beside a narrow table. Fronds from an oversized potted fern hung down over my shoulder as I sat down and pulled Kevin up into my lap. Giggling happily, he batted at the long, slender leaves.

  Rachel waited until we were settled then said, “Why don’t you tell me what you’re looking for?”

  Put like that, there was only one answer I could give.

  “A missing West Highland White Terrier,” I said.

  “Missing . . . ?” Rachel sounded surprised. Then abruptly the other shoe dropped. Her expression shuttered. “You mean Kiltie.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Did Sondra send you here?”

  “No, she did not.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Nevertheless, it’s true,” I told her. “But considering the recent animosity between you and Sondra, I was wondering if you might know anything about his disappearance.”

  “If I did,” Rachel said with a disgusted snort, “do you think I would tell you?”

  I shrugged. “You might.”

  “Only if I was stupid.”

  “That sounds like a confession.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” Rachel snapped. “It’s nothing of the sort. I didn’t take Sondra’s dumb dog. But I’ll tell you what—I’m glad someone did. Having Kiltie disappear from right under her nose? It serves her right.”

  “Sondra isn’t the most popular person,” I said affably.

  Rachel refused to be placated. “And yet here you sit on her behalf.”

  “I’m here because of Kiltie,” I told her. “And because even though you might have been mad enough at Sondra to want to lash out at her, I’m sure you wouldn’t have wanted an innocent pet to be punished as a result.”

  “An innocent pet.” Rachel blew out an annoyed breath. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

  “You don’t agree?”

  “Not even close. So don’t try to tug at my heartstrings to get what you want. Kiltie is nobody’s pet. He’s a competitor, a professional show dog who’s shooting up the ladder of success. And Sondra McEvoy doesn’t care who she has to shove out of his way to get there.”

  “Like you, you mean?”

  “Hardly,” said Rachel. “In the grand scheme of things, I’m a nobody. Sondra probably came down hard on me just for practice. You know, to keep her claws sharpened.”

  Sadly I couldn’t disagree.

  “Is there someone else Sondra has pushed out of the way recently?” I asked.

  “You didn’t hear this from me,” Rachel said, leaning closer.

  “Of course not,” I agreed.

  “Do you know who Todd Greenleaf is?”

  I nodded.

  “A friend of mine works in his kennel. She told me that Todd dumped a dog belonging to one of his longtime clients in order to make room for Sondra to wedge her dog into his lineup. The other client thought that Todd was going to be specialing his terrier this year, but it turns out he’ll have Kiltie instead.”

  Rachel sat back and looked at me with a satisfied smirk on her face. “Except now Kiltie’s gone. So maybe not. You know?”

  Chapter 20

  That was interesting.

  I wondered if it was true. Obviously it was in Rachel’s best interests to st
eer me in another direction. On the other hand, at this point I couldn’t afford to discount any input that came my way.

  “Why would Todd do that to someone he’s had a long relationship with?” I asked.

  “Are you kidding? For the money.” Rachel shook her head at my naiveté. “It’s always about the money.”

  There was that.

  “Who’s the other client?”

  “A guy named Rick Stanley. He shows Cairns. Or at least he does when Sondra isn’t throwing her weight around and screwing things up for him.”

  I knew that name, I realized with a start. Bertie had given it to me on Tuesday when I’d asked her about other exhibitors who’d been at the Christmas bazaar. I had called Mr. Stanley and left a message but he hadn’t called me back.

  It sounded as though it was time for me to do something about that.

  “Not like that lady,” Kevin said when we were back in the car and heading home.

  “I know,” I replied, glancing back at him. “I’m sorry you had to meet her. She doesn’t seem like a very happy person.”

  “Not happy,” Kev said with a firm nod. “No fish.”

  Kevin and I spent the afternoon at the Stamford Town Center doing some Christmas shopping. Fortunately, at his young age, Kev is easily distractible. Not only that, but the mall offers a cornucopia of interesting things for a toddler to see and do. I was able to select several presents for Sam and Davey, pay for them, and slip them quickly out of sight into shopping bags while Kev’s attention was focused on other things. Every mother I know is adept at that particular sleight of hand. I’m pretty sure it’s one of the basic job requirements.

  Out in the parking garage, I’d just finished loading the car and buckling Kevin into his car seat when my cell phone rang. The caller’s number looked vaguely familiar, but Caller ID didn’t supply a name. I slipped into the front seat of the Volvo and fitted the phone to my ear.

  “This is Jane Brew,” a woman’s voice said briskly. “I understand you want to talk to me?”