Murder at the Puppy Fest

by Laurien Berenson

  As soon as Joe’s fingers loosened their grasp, I moved away. I hadn’t been expecting that level of familiarity. Suddenly I was feeling a little prickly myself.

  Jane looked at us in surprise. “You two know each other?”

  “We met at Puppy Fest,” I told her.

  “And then again a couple of days ago,” Joe added. “Melanie stopped by to talk to me and Graham.”

  “Really?” She lifted a brow. “About what?”

  “The old man . . . Haven’t you heard? Libby’s on the warpath about his death.”

  “Libby and I don’t speak.” Jane turned to me. “What does that have to do with you?”

  “Libby asked me to make some inquiries—”

  “Melanie is a sleuuuth.” Joe drew out the last word for several extra beats. “You know, like Nancy Drew? She’s investigating us.”

  “Not me she isn’t,” Jane told her brother. Then she frowned at me. “If that’s why you’re here, you can show yourself out. Now.”

  Joe held up a restraining hand. “No, Melanie, don’t leave. Jane’s just being a spoilsport. I want to hear what you’ve learned. I bet it’s fascinating. How many of the obnoxious nine have you spoken to?”

  “The obnoxious nine?”

  “That was Dad’s nickname for us,” Joe said. “Funny, huh? He claimed it was a joke.”

  “Except that none of us were stupid enough to believe that.” Jane wasn’t amused. “Is Joe telling the truth? Have you really made the rounds of the entire family?”

  “Just about,” I said. “Aside from Annette, the only one I haven’t spoken to is Ron. Ashley told me he was out of town.”

  A look passed between Jane and Joe. I wished I knew what it meant.

  “Ron’s around,” Joe said after a moment. “Ashley doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

  “As usual,” Jane muttered. “If that girl’s the one who’s feeding you information we’re all in trouble. What else did she tell you?”

  “That you like to bake,” I told her. “And that you always bring cookies to family gatherings.”

  Joe hooted so loudly that I winced and Kev looked up from his book. Only Jane showed no visible reaction.

  “Good one, Ashley!” Joe laughed. “I’m amazed I missed that connection myself. You better be nice to me, Jane, otherwise I’ll put it to good use. The tabloids would have a field day with that tidbit of information.”

  “Quit fooling around.” Jane reached over and smacked her brother.

  Joe dodged away, hopped two steps, and ended up standing entirely too close to me. The counter was at my back. I sidled sideways to give myself some extra room. Judging by the smug expression on Joe’s face, he knew exactly what I was doing.

  Damn. I’d really wanted to talk to Jane. And it would have been so much easier if I didn’t have to navigate around her brother.

  “Puppy Fest wasn’t a family gathering. It was a semipublic event,” Jane said. She uttered the words slowly and distinctly so no one could mistake their import. “And in case you didn’t notice, I already had a job to do. Even if I had wanted to bring cookies, I wouldn’t have had time. I was too busy.”

  I saw a flash of color and movement out of the corner of my eye. Briefly visible through the glass doors, another vehicle had turned into the Puppy Posse parking lot.

  “Now what?” Jane followed the direction of my gaze.

  “You might want to rearrange your attitude,” I said. “Maybe that’s someone who wants to adopt a cute puppy.”

  “We don’t have any cute puppies, Puppy Fest took care of that. All we have now are older dogs, hard-luck cases, and dogs with special needs. And nobody ever wants those. That’s why our pens are always full.”

  “You can climb down off your high horse,” Joe told his sister. “If someone just arrived, I’d imagine it was Trace. I told him to meet me here.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “He and I are going sailing in Darien. We both had other things to take care of this morning. This made a good halfway point to meet up when we were done.”

  “Sailing.” Jane’s voice dripped with disdain.

  “Why not?” Joe refused to be baited. “It’s a perfect day for it.”

  “Pity that some of us have to work,” she said. “Even on beautiful summer days.”

  “I work too. But lucky for me, bartending is a night job.” Joe looked my way. “Trace is Caroline’s son. You probably met him at Puppy Fest.”

  “Nope. Didn’t happen.” Jane shook her head. “Trace never bothered to show up.”

  “Are you sure? I could have sworn I saw him driving in that morning.”

  “And you think Ashley doesn’t have a clue,” Jane scoffed. “You’re no better. Maybe you ought to get your eyes checked. Or better yet, your brain.”

  It wasn’t hard to envision the siblings as a pair of squabbling seven-year-olds. It didn’t appear that their relationship had matured much in the meantime.

  “Good morning!” Aunt Peg sang out cheerfully.

  I swiveled around in surprise. Apparently the new arrival wasn’t Trace after all.

  “What are you doing here?” I blurted.

  “Looking for you. Libby told me where you’d be.”

  Her gaze slid past me and kept going. That didn’t come as a surprise. In Aunt Peg’s world, I’m seldom the main attraction.

  “You must be Jane Brody.” She marched across the lobby. “I’m Peg Turnbull. I’ve heard a great deal about your establishment and the wonderful work you’re doing here. Libby speaks very highly of your efforts.”

  “Libby does what?” Jane sputtered.

  Aunt Peg glanced sideways at Joe. He was still standing almost on top of me. But when her beady gaze fastened on him, he finally shifted his weight away. Now at least there was breathing room between us.

  Score one for the home team.

  “You’re performing a valuable service here.” Aunt Peg turned back to Jane. “Kudos to you for rescuing dogs in need of a helping hand. Libby tells me that you have a wonderful way with animals. Is that true?”

  “It is.” Jane’s habitual snarl softened. She was almost glowing in response to Aunt Peg’s praise.

  “Excellent. I was sorry to have missed out on Puppy Fest, but I assume you’re still accepting donations?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Very good. I’ll see to that before I leave.” Aunt Peg tipped her head my way. But once again, I realized, she wasn’t looking at me. “And who is this young man?”

  “Joe Brody.” He straightened his shoulders, stepped across the space between them, and offered his hand.

  Aunt Peg gave it a hearty shake. “Another one of Leo’s offspring, I take it. My, that man was busy. I was a friend of your father’s, did you know that?”

  Considering that they’d only met a minute earlier, I was guessing the answer was no. But this was clearly Aunt Peg’s show. Far be it from me to intervene.

  “Terrible thing, Leo’s death. You have my condolences, both of you. Your father was a fine man. He would have been the first to tell you that he still had a lot more to do in this world. Peanuts.” She snorted derisively. “A cowardly method for murder, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Murder?” Jane’s voice squeaked.

  The door to the building opened again and Trace slipped into the lobby. The greeting he’d been about to offer to the room died on his lips when Aunt Peg spoke again.

  “Yes, murder,” she said firmly. “Leo was too careful for it to have been anything else. I never knew him to take a single bite that wasn’t from a trusted source. So where did those cookies come from? Who brought them into his office? Libby asked Melanie to look into that. But if you ask me, she’s too slow at figuring things out. I decided I should step in and lend a hand.”

  Trace caught Joe’s eye and his brows rose. Joe shrugged in response. Still silent, Trace sidled over to stand beside his uncle. It was then that Aunt Peg noticed the teenager’s presence.


  “I see we have the arrival of yet another Brody.” She sounded pleased. The more the merrier where Aunt Peg is concerned. “You have the family look.”

  “Trace is Libby’s sister’s son—” I started to explain.

  “My name is Trace Richland,” he interrupted me. “And you’re wrong about what happened to my grandfather.”

  “Am I?” Aunt Peg was immediately interested. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because nobody would have wanted Leo Brody to die.”

  “And yet he did,” she said softly.

  “It was an accident.”

  “You sound very sure of yourself.”

  “I am sure.” Trace’s shoulders stiffened. “Despite my last name, I’m a Brody too. And that means I know what I’m talking about. Whoever you are, your opinion doesn’t matter.”

  “Trace.” There was a warning in Joe’s tone. He set a hand down heavily on his nephew’s shoulder. “Enough.”

  Trace shrugged his uncle’s hand away. But his gaze dropped and his eyes began to blink rapidly as if he was holding back tears. His belligerence melted away. All at once, he looked very young.

  “We’d better be going,” Joe said. “Time and tide wait for no man.” He hustled Trace out the door.

  “Time and tide?” Aunt Peg looked puzzled. “He didn’t strike me as the Chaucer type.”

  “They’re on their way to go sailing,” I told her as we watched them leave through the glass.

  “Joe’s probably never even heard of Chaucer,” said Jane. “He just likes to say things he thinks make him sound intelligent.”

  “Goodness.” Aunt Peg was still staring after them. “Does it work?”

  Jane shrugged. “Joe’s a bartender. In that milieu, it doesn’t take much. I believe you mentioned something about a donation?”

  “I did indeed. But first I think you might offer me a tour of your kennel while we get better acquainted.”

  As Jane and Aunt Peg disappeared into the next room, I went to get Kevin. He’d just finished perusing his picture book. He slapped it shut and slid down out of the chair.

  “Time to go?” he asked.

  “In a few minutes.” I bent down and retied his sneakers. “As soon as Aunt Peg is ready.”

  When the two women emerged from the kennel, Jane was smiling and Aunt Peg was pulling out her checkbook. The two of them looked quite pleased with themselves. Jane even managed to be polite to me as we said good-bye.

  Out in the parking lot, Aunt Peg’s minivan was right beside my Volvo. “How did you manage that?” I asked incredulously as I put Kevin in the car.

  “Manage what?”

  “Jane has barely said a single civil word to me since we met. Now suddenly you and she look like best friends.”

  “Why not? I’m a very friendly person.”

  “Because the reason she didn’t like me was because of my association with you.”

  “Me?” Aunt Peg was all innocence. “What have I done?”

  I waved a hand to encompass the rescue facility behind us. “Apparently you’re part of the problem.”

  “Don’t be silly. There isn’t a single Poodle in that building. Nor one in all of Fairfield County waiting to be rehomed. The local Poodle club takes care of that, and I’m a dab hand at rescue myself.” Aunt Peg nailed me with a look. “Did you know we have a waiting list for the Poodles we take in?”

  I shook my head guiltily.

  “Jane and I both want what’s best for our canine companions,” Aunt Peg informed me. “We’re on the same side. Pity I can’t say the same for the young man I just met in there.”

  “Trace?”

  “No, not him. He was just being a teenager. The other one. The Brody son.”

  “Joe.”

  The beady gaze I’d seen earlier was now trained my way. “If you ask me, that one’s up to no good.”

  Kev was buckled in. He began to bounce up and down in his seat impatiently. It was time to go.

  I closed the car door and said, “You never told me why you were looking for me.”

  “I should think that was obvious. Time’s passing, Melanie. Things needed to be shaken up. I figured I was just the person for the job.”

  Nobody, least of all me, could argue with that.

  Chapter 23

  Sam arrived home late Thursday afternoon.

  While he was away, I’d helped Davey clip Augie and grind his nails. All that remained to be done was the Standard Poodle’s pre-show bath and blow dry. On Friday Augie was entered in a small dog show in southern Massachusetts. This time there wouldn’t be any majors at stake. An easier entry might be just what Davey needed to rebuild his confidence.

  Sam came in the door, hugged me and Kevin, and tossed his overnight bag at the foot of the stairs. Then he grabbed Davey and Augie. The three of them disappeared into the grooming room and went to work.

  Kev and I were in the kitchen having a snack when I heard Sam’s cell phone ring. Judging by the sounds coming from the next room, he and Davey had just finished giving Augie a bath. They were ready to transfer the wet dog onto the grooming table.

  Under the circumstances, I’d have expected Sam to let the call go to voice mail. Instead he picked up.

  Aunt Peg isn’t the only one in the family who inherited the nosy gene. I tried to eavesdrop, but unfortunately Sam’s conversation was obscured by the loud whine of the big blow dryer. Rats.

  Five minutes later he emerged from the grooming room. Kev and I were sitting at the kitchen table finishing our yogurt. Sam took in the scene in a glance.

  “Hey Kev, why don’t you go keep Davey company while he’s working on Augie?”

  “Okay.”

  That kid’s easy. He didn’t even ask why. He just slipped down out of his chair and went padding away.

  Sam motioned toward the back door. It was propped half-open so the dogs could go in and out at will. “Let’s take a spin around the backyard.”

  “Sure.” I gathered up the empty yogurt containers and dumped them in the garbage. Together we walked out onto the deck.

  The remaining four Poodles were outside snoozing in the shade. Faith and Eve lifted their heads to check us out when we came through the door. Then they quickly settled back down. I shaded my eyes against the sun and looked around for Bud.

  It didn’t take long to spot him. The small dog was way out at the far end of the yard. That little stinker appeared to be digging a hole under the fence.

  Sam must have seen the same thing I did. He immediately struck out in Bud’s direction. I fell in beside him.

  “What’s up?” I asked as we left the deck.

  “Tell me about Joe Brody.”

  I glanced over in surprise. I hadn’t expected that.

  “He’s the second youngest of the Brody sons,” I said. “His mother was Leo’s third wife. He and his brother, Graham, share an apartment in Cos Cob. He works as a bartender in Rye.”

  “What else?” Sam asked.

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I guess that’s about it.”

  “That’s not what Claire said.”

  “Claire? When did you . . . ?” Oh. The penny dropped. “That was Claire on the phone.”

  “It was. She called me because she’s worried about you.”

  “That’s silly. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “On the contrary, where you’re concerned there’s always something to worry about. Claire seems to think that this Joe character is someone you don’t want to be involved with.”

  “That’s perfect,” I said. “Because I’m not involved with him.”

  Sam didn’t look convinced. “Why would Claire think otherwise?”

  “Joe is a former boyfriend of hers,” I told him. “She doesn’t remember him fondly.”

  “What does that have to do with you?”

  “I guess I told her that he was acting a little . . . weird . . . when I met him.” And then again yesterday, I thought silently.

  “Weird how?
”

  “Stupid,” I said. “Pushier than he should have been.”

  “He pushed you around?”

  “I think he thought he was flirting with me.”

  Sam stopped walking. The expression on his face was almost comical. “Joe Brody was flirting with you?”

  “You don’t have to look so surprised.” My hands propped themselves on my hips. “Which, by the way, is a little insulting.”

  “But . . .” Sam sputtered. “You’re Davey and Kev’s mother.”

  “Still insulting,” I said.

  We were three-quarters of the way across the yard. Bud must have seen us coming because his frantic activity suddenly stopped. The little dog’s front feet were standing in a hole six inches deep. When he lifted his head and turned our way, I saw that his muzzle and chest were covered with dirt.

  It looked like there was a bath in his future too.

  I sighed and started walking again. I’d taken a dozen steps before Sam realized I was gone. Then he hurried to catch up.

  Bud, meanwhile, was backing casually away from his handiwork. Hole? What hole? I don’t see any hole. He lifted his leg and peed on the fence. Then he looked at us and wagged his tail.

  “You.” I pointed my finger at his nose. “Come with me.” Looping a finger through Bud’s collar, I led him back to the scene of the crime. “Who did that?” I asked him.

  The little dog looked down. His body cringed away from me like he was afraid he was going to be hit. Or worse.

  “Dammit,” I chastised myself. I’d forgotten about Bud’s background and treated him like he was one of the Poodles. Idiot.

  Quickly I released Bud’s collar and sank down into the grass beside him. Crossing my legs to create an inviting lap, I patted my knees and said, “Come here.”

  Bud didn’t need to be asked twice. He spun around and hopped in. I wrapped my arms around the spotted dog and gave him a hug. Then I turned him and pointed him toward the hole once again.

  “Who did that?” I asked.

  Safe and secure in my lap, Bud wagged his tail happily. Not me! Not me! It must have been some other dog.

  Standing above me, Sam cleared his throat. I think he was trying to keep from laughing. “Maybe I’ll just go fill that in,” he said.