The Bark Before Christmas

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The Bark Before Christmas Page 24

by Laurien Berenson


  I couldn’t help that, I thought. It was what I did.

  “Of course I was surprised to hear that.” Aunt Peg didn’t sound surprised. Instead, once again she sounded pleased. “I asked Sondra what she meant by that, but she wouldn’t tell me. All she said was that from here on out, she intended to handle the problem herself. Sondra was very firm about the fact that your services were no longer needed nor wanted.”

  It took a moment for the import of her words to sink in. When it did, I suddenly felt giddy. “I’ve been fired?”

  “Not so fast,” said Peg. “Think about it. You know what this must mean. I bet Sondra has discovered where Kiltie is. She knows who has him and what she has to do to get him back.”

  Her reply had been intended to prick a pin in my budding good mood. Stubbornly I refused to let it go.

  “But I’ve been fired. . . .” I said again.

  Aunt Peg dealt with that insubordination in her usual fashion. She simply steamrolled right over my objections.

  “I told Sondra that I’d stop by this morning so that we could talk. And now, with this additional information you’ve given me, I should think that we’ll have plenty of things to discuss. Of course you’ll want to come with me.”

  It wasn’t a question. It was a foregone conclusion. I bowed to the inevitable and agreed.

  “Let me guess,” said Sam. He’d overheard bits and pieces of my conversation with Aunt Peg. “You’re going somewhere again.”

  “Yes,” I said. “But not for long. I’ll be back in plenty of time to go to the Reindeer Festival with you and the boys this afternoon. I’m just going to run down to Greenwich and meet Aunt Peg at Sondra McEvoy’s house. There are a couple of things we need to get straightened out.”

  “Still?” Sam quirked a brow. “I thought you got fired.”

  I guessed he’d heard more than I thought.

  “So did I,” I said glumly. “But apparently it didn’t stick.”

  “Try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

  I nodded, but I wasn’t about to make any promises on that score. It was beginning to look as though trouble was exactly what Sondra McEvoy deserved.

  An hour later, I met Aunt Peg at her house. We drove to Deer Park together in her minivan. Aunt Peg likes to get where she’s going in a hurry. She drives with scant regard for speed limits and has an unerring ability to avoid traffic patrols. I wish I shared her gift.

  During the drive, it became clear that Peg was still simmering from our conversation on the phone. She navigated up the McEvoys’ driveway, hopped out of her van, and was striding determinedly toward the front steps of the large house before I’d even managed to undo my seat belt. By the time I joined her on the narrow porch, she had already rung the doorbell. Twice.

  “That’s odd,” I said, when no appeared in response to our arrival. “Maybe Sunday is Kalinda’s day off.”

  “Sondra was expecting me.” Peg jabbed a finger at the buzzer again. “She knew I was on my way.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t want to see me,” I said. It occurred to me that this was the second time Sondra had engineered an end run around me by soliciting Aunt Peg’s assistance.

  “Don’t be daft.” She slanted a glance my way. “You don’t think I told Sondra that you were coming, do you?”

  I should have known.

  “I have no intention of standing here all day,” said Peg.

  By my count, we’d now been waiting approximately a minute and a half. Ever impatient, she began to rummage around in her ample purse. It didn’t take her long to find her phone.

  I stepped away from the door, turned around, and gazed out over the large yard. I was just as happy to let Aunt Peg take control. Besides, I was pretty sure she’d treat suggestions of mine as extraneous anyway.

  Another minute passed. As Aunt Peg was discovering that Sondra wasn’t answering her phone, I suddenly heard the sound of gravel crunching underfoot. It appeared to be coming from around the side of the house. Judging by the rapid succession of steps, whoever it was, was moving fast.

  “Someone’s coming,” I said.

  I hopped down the three stone stairs and followed the curve of the driveway in the direction of the garage. Rounding the corner of the house, I barely had time to register a brief flash of color and movement before something small and solid came crashing into me.

  As I stumbled backward, I heard a sharp squeal of surprise. I was pretty sure it hadn’t come from me. All the air seemed to have been knocked from my body with a sudden whoosh. Scrambling awkwardly, I lost my balance. My assailant and I went down together.

  Reflex made me throw out my hands to break my fall. The gravel stung as we hit the ground. Luckily, even though I was on the bottom, my bulky parka protected me from the worst of it.

  Then my head snapped down onto the hard surface. That hurt.

  “Oww,” I groaned.

  Eyes still closed, I took a moment. Then I rolled to one side and dumped whoever had come careening around the corner, down on the driveway beside me.

  “Ms. Travis!” a small voice cried. “What are you doing here?”

  “Poppy?” I slid one eye open.

  The sixth grader quickly maneuvered herself up. Fortunately she appeared to have survived our collision in one piece. Eleven-year-olds bounce, I thought. As opposed to adults who go splat. And since I’d been on the bottom, I’d broken her fall.

  I resisted the temptation to groan again.

  “Melanie, do get up off the ground.” Aunt Peg came hurrying down the steps to join us. “Poppy, dear, what is going on? Where is your mother? She should have been expecting me.”

  As she drew near, Peg stopped and stared at the sixth grader. “Where is your coat, Poppy? It’s freezing out here. What is Sondra thinking letting you run around in the cold dressed like that?”

  Belatedly I realized that Poppy, wearing just a pair of jeans and a thin, cotton shirt, was clasping her arms over her chest and shivering. As I hauled myself to my feet, I unzipped my parka and pulled it off. Aunt Peg snatched it out of my hands and draped it over Poppy’s shoulders.

  “Thank God you’re here,” the young girl said through chattering teeth. Now that I looked more closely I could see how pale she was. Her freckles stood out like bright spots of color on skin the color of parchment. Her fingers twisted in agitation. “I need help. You have to come with me right away!”

  “Where?” I asked, exchanging a glance with Aunt Peg. “What’s the matter?”

  “Back there.” Poppy snapped out a quick point around the side of the house. Without waiting to see if we were following, she was already heading back that way at a run. “They’re fighting. Somebody’s going to get hurt. Hurry up!”

  Aunt Peg and I both scrambled to catch up. “Where are we going?” she asked me.

  “Sondra has a kennel in her backyard,” I said. “She converted the pool house. I’m guessing that’s it.”

  Passing the garage, we flew through an open gate and onto a flagstone terrace. Outdoor furniture, covered in winter tarps, was pushed up against the back wall of the house. Poppy veered left, heading toward the covered pool and the small, pale yellow building on the other side. Aunt Peg and I hurried along behind.

  “It doesn’t look like a kennel,” Aunt Peg muttered. “Where are the runs? Don’t the dogs ever get to go outside?”

  Hell if I knew. Everything about this visit was proving to be a mystery to me.

  Ahead of us, the young girl skirted quickly around the kidney-shaped pool. As she approached the smaller building, I expected her to go straight to the door. Instead Poppy bypassed the walkway, hopped over a low bush, and sidled over next to a window in the near wall. Clearly this wasn’t the first time she’d spied on the occupants of the kennel.

  But who was inside now? And what were they doing in there?

  Curiosity propelled me to follow the sixth grader. Before I was even able to get a glimpse of what was going on, however, Aunt Peg took matters into her own han
ds. She stopped on the flagstone walk, delivered a withering glance my way, and announced in a loud voice, “I don’t think so.”

  “Shhhh!” Poppy cautioned, pulling back from the window. She looked like she was about to cry. “They’ll hear you.”

  “I should hope so.” Peg marched over to the door, turned the knob, and thrust it open.

  Once again, I found myself scrambling to play catch-up. As the door flew inward, I heard the occupants of the room before I saw them. The sound of two voices, both raised in anger, was suddenly crystal clear in the sharp winter air.

  Moving quickly, I managed to be right behind Aunt Peg when she entered the building. Poppy, hunched down inside my parka as if she hoped to remain invisible, trailed along behind.

  “You’ve pushed me around for the last time,” Sondra was saying shrilly. “I’m not going to let you control me anymore.”

  “You should be grateful I am in control,” Jim McEvoy shot back. “Somebody has to be. Especially after the mess you’ve made of things.”

  A blast of cold air accompanied us into the small room. Even so, the battling McEvoys—facing off in front of a wire pen containing a pair of unhappy-looking Westies—were so intent upon each other and their own invective that they didn’t even appear to notice our arrival.

  “Daddy, stop it!” Poppy screamed. She lifted her hands and placed them over her ears. “Both of you stop it now!”

  That got their attention. As Jim swung around in surprise, I realized that he was holding a third Westie in a firm grasp beneath his arm. The small, white terrier looked every bit as uncomfortable as the other dogs inside the pen.

  “I don’t know what’s going on here,” Aunt Peg said sharply, “but I think that’s quite enough.”

  Jim’s expression hardened at the interruption. He stared at Peg and me without the slightest shred of recognition. “This is a private matter between me and my wife and I’ll thank you not to intrude. Whoever you are, please leave my property immediately.”

  I would have fallen back under Jim’s malevolent gaze. Not Aunt Peg. She was made of sterner stuff. When she stood her ground, I did, too.

  “Peg?” Sondra said uncertainly. “What are you doing here?”

  “You asked me to come this morning, remember? We were going to talk.”

  Sondra looked dismayed. She gave her head a small shake.

  Aunt Peg reached out a hand. She took a step toward her friend. “Is there something I can do to help you?”

  “Yes, there is.” As Jim intercepted the question, he moved to angle his body between the two women. His gaze skimmed briefly in my direction. “The two of you can show yourselves out. We are having a private conversation and you’re not welcome here.”

  “Daddy, this is my teacher, Ms. Travis,” Poppy piped up. Abruptly her fingers grasped the back of my sweater and held on tight. Her father wanted us to leave, but Poppy was equally determined to keep us in place. “You met last weekend.”

  “At the Christmas bazaar,” I told him. I stared at the dog in his arms. “Is that Kiltie?”

  Jim ignored the query and turned back to his wife. “Since these appear to be friends of yours, I suggest that you make them go away. If you don’t, there will be repercussions.”

  It was much too late to avoid that outcome, I thought. The scene we were witnessing was definitely going to lead to repercussions. And none of them were likely to be good. Especially if that was Kiltie that Jim was holding in his arms.

  Aunt Peg, whose eye for a good dog was much keener than mine, already knew the answer to that. “I see you’ve found your missing dog,” she said to Sondra.

  “Yes, I did.” Sondra’s gaze shifted away from us. Suddenly she sounded nervous. “Jim found Kiltie and brought him home. Wasn’t that nice of him?”

  I don’t think any of us were fooled by that declaration. There was nothing nice about what was happening here. Finding Kiltie had been my goal, but his theft was one small part of a much bigger picture—one that had included Jerry Platt’s death. Only an idiot wouldn’t have foreseen that whoever ultimately turned up with Kiltie in his possession was going to have a great deal of explaining to do.

  “How very fortunate for you,” I said. “It must be a relief to know that Kiltie has been in safe hands all along.”

  “Yes . . . I mean, no . . .” Sondra stammered.

  “Sondra, shut up,” Jim hissed under his breath. “Don’t say another word.”

  “But—”

  Jim reached out with his free hand, grasped his wife’s wrist, and twisted it. I heard Sondra gasp. So did Poppy. Aunt Peg started to react but Poppy was faster.

  The girl slipped out from behind me and wedged herself into the small space between her parents. She tipped her face up to her father’s. Her eyes were huge and swimming with unshed tears.

  “Daddy!” Poppy shrieked. “You promised!”

  A frisson of shock rippled through me. I saw Sondra’s face go blank.

  Jim’s fingers opened and his hand fell away. Kiltie squirmed within his grasp, but Jim scarcely seemed to notice. He gazed at his daughter without saying a word.

  I stared at the family tableau before me and felt my stomach lurch. Oh crap, I thought. I hadn’t expected that.

  This wasn’t going to end well.

  Chapter 25

  “You promised, Jim?” Sondra’s tone was low and menacing. Fingers rubbing her wrist absently, she backed away from her husband and daughter. “What did you promise Poppy? And what did she do for you in return?”

  “Nothing,” Jim replied quickly. He stepped back too, as if he wanted to distance himself from what had been said. “Poppy is mistaken.”

  “I am not.”

  “Poppy,” Jim snapped. “Not now.”

  “I think now is an excellent time,” Sondra said, beckoning to her daughter. “Come over here and stand with me, honey. Unlike your father, I would love to hear what you have to say.”

  Uncertain what to do, Poppy looked back and forth between her parents. I was guessing this wasn’t the first time Sondra and Jim had made her choose between them.

  “Poppy,” I said gently. “You don’t have to say anything at all if you don’t want to.”

  Aunt Peg reached over and poked her thumb in my ribs. The jab was hard enough to hurt. I jumped in place but held my ground.

  “It doesn’t matter.” Poppy also moved away. Now we had three family members in three different corners of the room. “Nobody ever listens when I talk.”

  “I’m listening,” I told her. I knew Aunt Peg was, too.

  “I didn’t want Kiltie to go away,” Poppy said softly. “Daddy said he could fix it.”

  “Fix it?” Sondra’s voice rose. Aunt Peg silenced her with a glare.

  “Kiltie was going to live somewhere else so he could be a top show dog. Todd was going to handle him. He was going to be gone for a long time, maybe even all year.”

  Sondra looked surprised. “How did you even know about that? I never told you any of those things.”

  Poppy lifted her chin and stared at her mother. “I hear stuff. I pay attention when people are talking. Even when nobody bothers to notice that I’m there.”

  “Why you sneaky little—”

  “Sondra,” Jim said, his tone a warning. “That’s enough.”

  “Oh no, it isn’t,” Sondra shot right back. “I think we’re just getting started here. Keep talking, Poppy. Everybody’s listening to you now. Why don’t you tell us what you did?”

  Poppy bit her lip hard. When she began to speak again, I hoped she wasn’t tasting blood.

  “Daddy told me if I helped him, he would keep Kiltie safe and make it so that he wouldn’t have to go away. I didn’t want Kiltie to leave. So I did what Daddy asked me to do. I got Kiltie out of his crate at the bazaar and gave him to the Santa Claus outside. He was going to take Kiltie to Daddy and everything was supposed to be fine after that.”

  Poppy gazed at her father imploringly. “You told me everyth
ing would work out. You said if I helped you, everyone would be happy.”

  Surely I wasn’t the only one in the room who heard the longing in the young girl’s voice. Her parents had behaved abominably. How could they have been so callous as to pit her against each other and promise her happiness in return?

  “Only a fool would believe everything your father says,” Sondra told her daughter harshly. “He didn’t care what happened to Kiltie. He only wanted him as a bargaining chip. He needed him for leverage.”

  “No, that’s not right.” Slowly Poppy shook her head. “I know what leverage is. Kiltie isn’t leverage.”

  “You tell her, Poppy.” Jim had the nerve to sound pleased by his daughter’s denial.

  “Oh really?” Sondra snapped. “Is that what you want? Then since we’re busy telling things, why don’t you tell Poppy about your affair with Helen Baker?”

  “Hey!” I said loudly. That was way out of bounds. And since the squabbling McEvoys didn’t appear to have an ounce of discretion between them, the teacher in me was suddenly itching to take control. “Both of you, cut it out.”

  I might as well have not even spoken. All three adults in the room ignored me. Even Aunt Peg, who should have been on my side.

  “Here, Poppy,” I said, holding out my hand. “Come with me. Let’s step outside and let your parents settle this on their own.”

  “No.” The girl ignored my outstretched hand and crossed her slender arms over her chest. “I’m not going anywhere. Nobody ever tells me what’s going on. I want to hear for myself.”

  No, she didn’t, I thought. I knew what was coming . . . what had to be coming. And I was quite sure that Poppy didn’t really want to hear it.

  Jim seemed to have forgotten all about his daughter. Instead he rounded back to his wife. “Who told you about Helen?” he demanded.

  “I didn’t have to be told, Jim. I’m a big girl. I can figure things out for myself.” Sondra looked as though she enjoyed inflaming her husband’s wrath. “Do you think you were the only one who wanted leverage to bring to the negotiating table? We both signed that prenup in good faith and you can just forget about getting it invalidated. That’s not going to happen.”

 

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