The Bark Before Christmas

by Laurien Berenson

“Along with plenty of other people.” Rick dismissed my logic as unimportant. “I guess I should say thank you to you—considering that Kiltie disappeared while you were in charge.”

  Just what I needed. Yet another person trying to make me feel bad about what had happened.

  “Not so fast,” I said. “I’m hoping to get him back.”

  “I’m sure you’ll understand if I don’t wish you good luck.”

  “You wouldn’t want Kiltie to reappear so that Duffer can beat him fair and square?”

  “We’re way past that point.” Rick stood up and headed for the door. “And anyway, you know what they say.”

  I couldn’t resist asking. “What’s that?”

  He paused to look back. “All’s fair in love and dog shows.”

  Chapter 21

  Rick Stanley, so careful to close the door behind him when he entered the room, left it sitting open when he walked out. Now I barely had time to gather my thoughts before a new caller came striding in through the open doorway.

  I saw who it was, swallowed a sigh, and thought, Damn. The school wasn’t even half-full that morning, so why did my room have to be the only place on the campus that was as busy as a souk on market day?

  The headmaster stopped in the middle of the room, laced his hands together neatly at his waist, and regarded me with a stern expression on his face. “Are you entertaining visitors, Ms. Travis? On school time?”

  “That wasn’t a visitor,” I said, thinking quickly. “He was a school alum.”

  Mr. Hanover considered that for a moment. “You will have to pardon me,” he said, “if I don’t see the distinction.”

  “We were talking about school business.”

  “Indeed. What business is that?”

  Drat, I thought. Why didn’t he stop asking questions? Otherwise I’d never be able to stop enlarging the progressively deeper hole I appeared to be digging for myself.

  “It was Kiltie,” I admitted.

  “Ah yes, Kiltie.” The headmaster nodded. “The canine who has gone astray. As it happens, I was coming to check on your progress with that regard. Perhaps in light of your recent conversation with the school alum, you have new information that you might want to share?”

  I wish, I thought.

  “Pardon me?”

  Crap, I thought guiltily. Had I said that aloud?

  “I’m still looking,” I said.

  “A week has passed. . . .”

  Six days. I wanted to correct him. It hasn’t been a whole week. Not yet anyway.

  “I may be getting closer,” I said instead.

  I read somewhere that social white lies are acceptable under certain circumstances. Ones involving desperation. I was sure that this occasion had to qualify.

  “I’m happy to hear that,” Mr. Hanover replied. “We’ve received no further communication from Sondra McEvoy regarding her potential litigation. That is also good news. Nevertheless, the sooner we can wrap things up and put this whole unfortunate episode behind us, the better both I and the Howard Academy board of directors will feel.”

  I nodded. I could certainly understand that.

  “What about Jerry Platt?” I asked.

  “What about him?”

  “I haven’t seen any updates in the newspaper. I was wondering if you’d been in contact with Detective Young. And whether you might know how the police investigation into Platt’s death is coming along.”

  The headmaster looked at me thoughtfully. “Are you familiar with the phrase Don’t borrow trouble, Ms. Travis?”

  “I’ve heard it, yes.” Unfortunately it was one of those pithy sayings that seldom seemed to apply to my life.

  “After our initial interview, Detective Young has not felt the need to contact me again. I can only see that as a good thing. Under the circumstances, I feel I should exercise the same restraint with regard to the way he conducts his business.”

  “I see,” I said.

  “I should hope so,” Mr. Hanover intoned.

  There was no mistaking the subtext to his remark. But just in case I had, the headmaster said, “It appears as though Howard Academy has narrowly escaped becoming the focus of what one can only assume would be scurrilous and sensationalistic publicity. I would be extremely annoyed if that good fortune were to reverse itself for any reason.”

  “I understand.”

  “Keep your head down, Ms. Travis.” The headmaster paused, then added, “You may find that your continuing employment at Howard Academy depends upon it.”

  The iron fist in the velvet glove. I could almost feel it wrapping itself around my throat.

  “I’m not looking for a murderer,” I said. “I’m just following the trail of a lost dog.”

  “Then we find ourselves in agreement. Kindly see that it remains that way.”

  “I’ll do my best,” I promised.

  I hoped that it would be good enough.

  On Fridays, Howard Academy has early dismissal. So it was only a few minutes after two o’clock when Faith and I found ourselves back in the Volvo, cruising down Lake Avenue on our way to Deer Park. I’d called Sondra before leaving the school and told her we were coming.

  “You must have news for me,” Sondra said. She’d sounded excited. “Do you know where Kiltie is?”

  “Not yet. I’m still working on that. But I have a few more questions for you.”

  “Questions?” In an instant, Sondra’s mood changed. “What kind of time-wasting idiocy is that? I don’t need more questions! I need answers—”

  I’d turned off the phone as she was still speaking. Sondra could rant and rave to empty air if she wished, but I was through listening to her complain.

  “I hung up on her,” I said across the front seat to Faith. “Sondra won’t have liked that. Maybe she won’t see us when we get there.”

  The big Poodle flapped her tail up and down in response. Faith likes everything I say. Either that, or she found the idea of skipping our visit with Sondra as enticing as I did.

  “But here’s the problem,” I told her. “Even though I’ve talked to a bunch of people, I’m no closer now to knowing where Kiltie is than I was when I started. So I must be missing something.”

  Faith woofed softly. She agreed. Too bad she couldn’t also tell me what it was that I had overlooked.

  “So we’re going to talk to Sondra again. We’re going to ask more questions and see if we get different answers. And I want to talk to Jim, too.” I flicked on my blinker and turned into Deer Park. “I’ve been thinking about my conversation with Louisa. There’s trouble in that house. And it looks like Poppy is right in the middle of it.”

  Faith tipped her head to one side. I took that as a sign of approval.

  That’s one of the great things about talking to dogs. They make you feel like you’re really smart. Even when you know you’re not.

  This time, Sondra didn’t meet us at the door upon our arrival. Instead the maid opened the door and stared at Faith and me with a blank expression on her face. “Yes?” she inquired.

  “I’m Melanie Travis,” I told her. “I’m here to see Sondra. I believe she’s expecting me.”

  “Please wait here. I’ll check and see if she’s receiving visitors.”

  The door closed in our faces. I looked down at Faith. “Really?” I said in a low tone.

  Faith didn’t bother to answer. She looked every bit as miffed by this turn of events as I was.

  “Maybe we should go,” I whispered. “What do you say? Want to make a run for it?”

  The door snicked open again. Now Sondra stood in the doorway. Hands propped on her hips, she stared out at the two of us. “Who are you talking to?” she demanded.

  “Faith.”

  The Standard Poodle lifted her tail in acknowledgment. Never let it be said that my dogs don’t have manners.

  “We were just passing the time,” I said to Sondra. “While we stood and waited on your front step.”

  Sondra looked annoyed. Neverthele
ss she stepped aside. I took that as an invitation. I entered the house and Faith followed me inside. Once again we were directed to the library.

  On our previous visit, we’d started with small talk. This time Sondra got right down to business.

  “Maybe this isn’t working,” she said.

  “What do you mean?” I sat down on a love seat near the fireplace.

  “Peg told me you knew how to get things done.”

  “Did she?” I knew I sounded pleased. Compliments from Aunt Peg are as rare as horse feathers and this was the second one I’d heard recently.

  “I haven’t seen any evidence of that, however,” Sondra snapped.

  “You wanted me to talk to some of your fellow exhibitors,” I said.

  “And?”

  “I’ve spent the last few days doing exactly that.”

  “With nothing to show for it apparently. Who did you see?”

  I ticked off several names on my fingers. “Chip Michaels, Jo Drummer, Meredith Kronen.”

  “Meredith?” Sondra sounded surprised.

  “She sent me to Rachel Bright.”

  “I hope you didn’t believe everything that woman told you.”

  I ignored the statement and said instead, “Rick Stanley.”

  Sondra lifted a brow. “And what did he have to say for himself?”

  “Rick’s delighted that Kiltie’s missing.”

  “He would be.”

  “It sounded as though he had a good reason to be upset,” I said. “How did you get Todd to put Rick’s Cairn Special aside and commit to Kiltie instead?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “But what if whatever strings you pulled had something to do with Kiltie’s disappearance?”

  “They don’t.”

  “How can you be so sure—”

  “Stop it!” Sondra said suddenly.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Stop badgering me.”

  “I am not . . .” I began. Then I let my voice trail away. Arguing with Sondra would get me nowhere.

  I switched gears and tried again. “So what have you been doing since the last time we spoke?”

  “Me?”

  I nodded.

  “I’ve been waiting.” As I watched, Sondra’s features rearranged themselves into a picture of dejection. “And hoping that my little dog will find his way home soon.”

  Last time I’d sat in Sondra’s library, I’d been moved by her show of grief over the loss of her dog. This time, I wasn’t convinced. Not only that but, in her place, I’d have been a lot more productive. Sondra had asked for my assistance in locating Kiltie, but I hadn’t thought that would mean that she’d be abandoning her own efforts.

  “That’s all?” I asked.

  “I’m a busy person.” Sondra narrowed her gaze. “And I was counting on you to do your job.”

  “I’m a busy person, too,” I said mildly. “And finding Kiltie isn’t my job. I only got involved because I thought I could help.”

  “Well,” she said, rising to her feet, “it appears that we were both wrong, doesn’t it?”

  Good manners dictated that I should stand as well. Instead I remained seated.

  “I’d like to talk to your husband,” I said. “Can you tell me how to get in touch with him?”

  “No,” Sondra replied firmly. “I don’t want Jim involved in this at all.”

  “He was at the bazaar,” I told her. “I saw him there with Poppy, early that morning. Maybe he knows something.”

  “He doesn’t. Jim knows nothing about any of my dogs. He never has.”

  “Does he like Kiltie?” I asked curiously.

  “That’s rich.” Sondra’s chuckle sounded forced. “He doesn’t even know Kiltie. He couldn’t pick that dog out of a lineup if his life depended upon it.”

  “Even so—”

  “I said I don’t want you contacting Jim and I meant it. As you know, he and I are separated. We’re currently in the process of working out a divorce. That means that my life and my dogs are no longer any of Jim’s business. And that’s exactly the way I want things to stay.”

  Reluctantly I realized that I probably shouldn’t fault Sondra for taking that position. If I were faced with the task of unraveling all the bits and pieces of my life from those of someone whom I no longer loved, I might well have felt the same way.

  “I think we’re done here,” she said abruptly.

  As if on cue, Sondra’s maid, Kalinda, appeared in the doorway to the library. She was holding my coat in her hands. I stood up. Faith did, too.

  As we crossed the room, Sondra said, “Peg should have warned me about you. She never mentioned you had such a volatile temper.”

  “Excuse me?” I said incredulously.

  I was perfectly calm. After all, it wasn’t my dog who hadn’t been seen in nearly a week. Which brought up another point. Kiltie had now been gone for several days longer than when we’d last spoken. Yet, curiously, Sondra appeared to be less willing to cooperate with me. I wondered why that was.

  As she walked us to the door, I asked her. Reaching for the doorknob, Sondra went still. All at once, the atmosphere in the hallway felt oddly charged. I half expected her to lash out at me again.

  Instead, Sondra slowly shook her head. “I’m just trying to deal with this situation the best way I can. Sometimes I think . . .”

  “What?” I turned and looked at her.

  “I just have to believe in my heart that things have a way of working out for the best.”

  I felt as though I left Sondra’s house with more questions than I’d had when I arrived. I didn’t like that feeling at all.

  On the drive home from Greenwich to Stamford, I called Aunt Peg.

  “Your friend Sondra McEvoy is very strange,” I said.

  “Surely you can’t blame that on me.”

  “No, but I can blame you for getting me involved with her.”

  “Pish,” said Aunt Peg. “That wasn’t my fault either. You got yourself involved with Sondra when you misplaced her dog at your Christmas bazaar.”

  I bit back the first retort that sprang to mind and said instead, “Sondra seems to think that I have a temper. She called me volatile.”

  “Considering the tone of this conversation, it occurs to me that perhaps she has a point.”

  I breathed in a sigh and let it out. Faith looked at me questioningly. I reached over and gave her a pat.

  “Just once,” I said.

  “Melanie, what are you talking about now?”

  “Just once, I would like you to stick up for me rather than the other person.”

  “I don’t have any idea what you mean. I always stick up for you . . . on those occasions that you’re right.”

  And therein lay the problem.

  “Have you located Kiltie yet?” Aunt Peg asked, even though I was quite certain that already she knew the answer.

  “No. And Sondra’s reaction is bugging me.”

  “Again?” Peg’s tone was arch.

  I ignored that and said, “Why isn’t she more worried about Kiltie?”

  “I haven’t a clue why you would expect me to know that.”

  “Sondra told me she believes that everything works out for the best.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” asked Aunt Peg. “I hope she’s right. Besides, you just said you thought that Sondra was strange. Under the circumstances, I have no idea why you’d be giving her philosophical beliefs any credence at all.”

  “Because she’s Kiltie’s owner,” I said, calling on reserves of patience I didn’t even know I had. “She’s the whole reason I started looking for the dog in the first place.”

  “Nonsense. You’re looking for Kiltie because he needs to be brought home. And because you want to help the child.”

  “Poppy,” I said softly. Of course Aunt Peg was right. Again.

  “Enough about you,” Peg said briskly. “You’ll be pleased to know that my diet is coming along quite well.”
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  “It is?”

  “I took your advice and loosened my restrictions. Even so, I’ve already managed to lose two pounds. It turns out that dieting isn’t nearly as difficult as I thought it would be.”

  Said the only woman in the world, ever.

  On the other hand, considering the current state of my own affairs, I supposed it was nice to know that things were going well for somebody.

  Chapter 22

  “How do you feel about divorce?” I asked Claire.

  She looked up from the thick pad of paper she was using to take notes and stared at me in surprise. “What a singularly odd thing to ask me two weeks before my wedding.”

  It was Friday evening, after dinner, and she and I were sitting at my dining room table. Claire had called and asked if she could stop by sometime to go over the arrangements for her upcoming nuptials. Delighted by the opportunity to turn my thoughts to something productive that didn’t involve either Christmas or a lost Westie, I’d encouraged her to come straight over.

  Sam had been as happy to see Claire as I was. But as soon as he’d heard the phrase “wedding plans,” he had grabbed the two boys and all three of them had skedaddled from the room. Even the Standard Poodles were making themselves scarce.

  Claire and I both laughed at that. She’s the farthest thing in the world from a Bridezilla but I didn’t see any reason to point that out to anyone. A bit of peace and quiet is a rare luxury in my life. And the possibility of conducting our conversation without constant interruptions from dogs and children suited both of us just fine.

  Claire and Bob’s wedding was designed to be a low-key affair. A small, interdenominational church on Round Hill Road in Greenwich would provide a delightful, understated setting. Guests were limited to family and close friends of the couple. Davey had been thrilled to be asked to serve as his father’s best man.

  Kevin, hearing that, had worked himself up into a pretty good pout until Claire came up with the idea of assigning him the role of ring bearer. The toddler had been practicing his duties for the last several weeks. Several times a day, he clutched a small pillow to his chest and marched around the house to music that only he could hear.

  Considering that Claire had been responsible for planning much larger events during the course of her corporate career, I was quite certain that she had everything well under control. But if impending-wedding jitters made her want to run through the list of arrangements one more time, I was happy to serve as her sounding board.