As Sam exited the Merritt Parkway at North Street and turned away from town toward Aunt Peg’s house, I dimly registered the sound of sirens in the distance. A minute later, flashing lights came flying up behind us. Quickly Sam pulled over to the side of the road. Two fire engines went speeding past.
“I wonder where they’re going,” Aunt Peg said. “I hope it’s nothing serious.”
We’d spent so long at the dog show that the sun was dropping on the horizon. When Sam pulled back onto the otherwise empty road, the emergency lights were clearly visible ahead of us. We were all heading in the same direction.
“Look!” Davey sat up suddenly and pointed out the front window. “That’s smoke.”
In the gathering dusk, I could barely see anything above the tops of the surrounding trees. As I squinted into the distance, Aunt Peg abruptly leaned forward in her seat. She poked Sam hard in the shoulder.
“Drive faster!” she commanded.
Sam pushed his foot to the floor. We’d almost caught up to the fire engines when they slowed fractionally to make a sharp right-hand turn. I was familiar with the narrow lane the trucks went careening into. It led to only four widely spaced homes. Sam and I exchanged a look.
“Uh oh,” Davey said under his breath.
Aunt Peg lives in an early-twentieth-century farmhouse that was once the hub of a working farm. Over the years, the farm’s acreage had been sold off and developed into a group of stately homes on spacious, private lots. Aunt Peg’s property consists of the original house and five acres of land around it. The parcel is large enough, and secluded enough, to provide the perfect setting for her Cedar Crest Kennels.
Years earlier when Aunt Peg’s husband was still alive, the kennel building behind the house had been home to more than a dozen Standard Poodles. In more recent times, she had scaled back her breeding program. Now the pens in the kennel building sat empty and Aunt Peg’s four remaining Poodles lived inside the house.
The first fire engine charged down the lane and swept into Aunt Peg’s driveway. The second one quickly followed. Several people were clustered together in the road. One man held a cell phone. Another waved the emergency vehicles toward the right location.
The smoke was much thicker here. It formed a wide plume that billowed into the darkening sky. Even with the car windows closed, its acrid scent filled my nose.
Sam steered the SUV to the side of the road out of the way. Briefly his headlights glinted off of something farther down the lane. It looked like a bicycle propped against a tree. There was no time to look again, however. As soon as the car stopped, I unsnapped my seat belt and twisted in my seat.
Reaching back, I grabbed Davey’s hand. “You and Kevin stay here. You’re in charge and you’ll have to watch out for Augie too. Nobody gets out of the car until we come back for you. Understand?”
“But Mom—!”
“No arguments.” Sam backed me up. He and Aunt Peg were already scrambling out of the SUV.
“But I can help,” Davey protested.
“You are helping,” I told him. “You’re keeping your little brother safe. That’s the most important job. Promise me the three of you will stay right here.”
“I promise,” Davey said grudgingly.
Sam and Aunt Peg were already halfway down the driveway by the time I caught up with them. As we drew closer, I could see that the house itself appeared to be unscathed. The thick black smoke seemed to be coming from the kennel building, nestled in a stand of trees thirty feet farther away.
Both gates to Aunt Peg’s fenced backyard stood open. At the head of the driveway, a dozen firemen were working quickly and efficiently. Some were donning equipment. Others unspooled thick hoses and dragged them around the house. One stood ready to turn on the water.
As we dodged around the fire trucks, the kennel finally came into view. Lit by the raging fire, the compact wooden structure stood out vividly against the dark sky. I was shocked to see that it was already nearly consumed. The building’s clapboard siding had curled and buckled. Two front windows were broken. Flames shot out through the roof and a host of bright sparks floated upward, hissing and popping in the dry air.
For a moment we just stood there, transfixed by the horrifying sight. Then I heard the sudden squeal of another siren behind us. The three of us jumped to one side as a patrol car came racing in the driveway. Two policemen hopped out, assessed the situation briefly, then approached us.
“You’ll have to step back out to the road,” the first one said. He and his partner held out their arms as if they intended to herd us away. “It isn’t safe for you to be here.”
“This is my house,” Aunt Peg said stoutly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The fire chief had been busy issuing directions. Now he came hurrying our way. “Ma’am, did I hear you say this is your house?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Is there anyone inside that building?”
“No, it’s empty.”
I heard Aunt Peg’s voice crack and knew what she was thinking.
Technically the kennel was empty, but it still held decades worth of memories. Though the dogs had left, the building remained home to Aunt Peg’s elaborate trophy room. There, rosettes from Westminster and Morris & Essex hung beside win-photos of generations of Cedar Crest Standard Poodles. Not to mention the silverware that had accompanied those wins. In the space of an instant, all of that was gone.
“What is that building?” the fire chief asked. “A guest house?”
“It’s a kennel.”
“A kennel?” He sounded surprised. “Like with dogs?” At Aunt Peg’s nod, he said, “Any in there now?”
Only someone unfamiliar with my aunt could have asked that question. If her Poodles had been locked inside the kennel, she wouldn’t have been standing here watching it burn. Nor would Sam and I.
“No,” Aunt Peg said softly. “They’re in the house.”
We all looked that way. Between all the noise and commotion, I hadn’t heard her Poodles barking. Now I could see that the four big, black dogs had run into the room over the garage. Clearly agitated, they were leaping against the windows above us.
“Are they safe where they are?” Aunt Peg asked with sudden concern. “Should I bring them out here?”
“No, don’t do that.” The chief held up a hand. “They’re much better off contained and out of the way.”
“But the house . . . ?” I asked.
“Don’t worry, it’s not in jeopardy. You’ll lose your kennel and probably a tree or two, but we’ll have the fire under control before it goes any farther. We’ll wet down the roof as a precaution and we’ll stay right here until we’re sure everything is fine.”
“Thank you.” Aunt Peg’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Thank you for everything.”
Sam slipped his arm around her and pulled her close to his body for support. For the first time I noticed that Aunt Peg was shaking. The shock of watching her kennel burn was too much for her to bear. Sam intercepted my glance and nodded.
“We’re going to go sit down,” he said.
As he led Aunt Peg to the low stone wall that bordered her front yard, I turned back to the fire chief. “Do you know how the fire started?”
“Not yet. Although for a building to burn this hot and this quickly . . .” He shook his head. “I’m guessing there must have been multiple sources.”
“Multiple sources?” It took me a few seconds to process the information. “You mean, it was set deliberately?”
“We’ll know more after we complete our investigation, but as of right now, that would be my theory. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work.”
“Of course. Thank you for your help.”
I turned to check on Sam and Aunt Peg and saw that an ambulance was now parked at the end of the driveway. A pair of EMTs had made their way to Aunt Peg and were offering aid. She was shaking her head vehemently.
Good luck with that, I thought.
Out on the road, the crowd of onlookers had grown. More than a dozen people were milling around, pointing and staring, and sharing eagerly in the excitement. Avid spectators to someone else’s misfortune, they all looked like ghouls to me.
Several people had their phones out and were videoing the proceedings. I wondered unhappily if Aunt Peg would have to watch a replay of her own personal tragedy on tomorrow’s evening news.
I jumped at the sound of a loud crash behind me. The kennel roof had collapsed. A cloud of sparks burst upward from the flaming debris, lighting the night sky like a host of twinkling stars. The audience gasped with delight at the show.
A new car came coasting slowly down the narrow lane. Its headlights swept through the crowd, and I felt a jolt of recognition as the beams illuminated the shadows and briefly revealed two familiar figures. Two heads—one blond, one brunette—were tipped toward each other in whispered conversation. Megan and Ashley Brody.
What were they doing here?
Chapter 25
Quick, angry strides carried me down the length of the driveway to the road. I was still ten feet away when the twins looked up and saw me coming. Both sets of eyes widened simultaneously. Both girls looked around as if tempted to flee—but there was nowhere they could go that I wouldn’t follow.
I saw the moment Megan and Ashley realized that. By unspoken accord, the pair decided to stand their ground.
“What a surprise!” Megan’s voice sounded unnaturally high. “We didn’t expect to see you here.”
“This is my aunt’s house.” My tone was sharp. “That’s her kennel that’s burning.”
“It is?” Ashley’s head whipped around in an exaggerated show of surprise. “We had no idea. Megan and I were just in the neighborhood—”
“—on our way to visit our cousin, Trace,” Megan said. “He lives nearby.”
“We saw the commotion and came to find out what was happening,” Ashley finished.
Once again it came back to Trace, I thought bitterly.
Ashley peered around me for a better view of the flames. Thanks to the efforts of the firemen, the blaze was finally beginning to subside. “This is tragic. I hope your aunt didn’t lose anything too valuable.”
The teenager sounded sympathetic. But there was just enough light for me to see that her blue eyes were glittering with suppressed excitement. And something else. Something worse.
It took me a moment to define that second emotion. Then all at once I remembered Miranda’s stories about her cousins’ wild antics. With that came the realization that what I was seeing was satisfaction. Ashley was delighted by the sight of the roaring fire—and it wasn’t the first time she’d created a blaze to further her own ends.
I took a step toward the blond twin. Deliberately I stood too close. “You did this,” I hissed.
A look of surprise flashed across Ashley’s face. After a telling pause, she shook her head vehemently. “You’re crazy! I had nothing to do with it.”
“I don’t believe you,” I snapped. “You knew this was Aunt Peg’s house. You set that fire on purpose.”
“You’re wrong. You must be imagining things.” Ashley looked to her twin for support. “Tell her, Megan.”
Even in the half-light, I could see that Megan’s face was ashen. Rather than answering, she began to back away.
I grabbed Ashley’s arm, closing my fingers around it firmly. “The police are here,” I told her. “They’re going to want to talk to you.”
“No. I won’t! You can’t make me. I didn’t do anything!”
“You can tell that to the officer in charge.” I started across the road, pulling the reluctant girl with me. “You can tell the fire chief too. There’s going to be an investigation into the cause of the blaze. I’m betting they’ll find proof—”
“Stop it!” Suddenly Megan was beside us too. She grabbed at my hand, trying to pry my fingers loose. “Leave her alone. Ashley’s not lying. She didn’t set the fire.”
Abruptly I stopped walking. I looked back and forth between the two girls. “Then who did?”
For a moment, neither one said a thing. Then Ashley blurted out, “It was Trace. He’s the one who started it.”
She’d given me the name I expected to hear. But even so, I wasn’t sure I believed her. Was Ashley telling the truth, or was she throwing her cousin under the bus in an attempt to save herself?
“Why?” My tone let them know that the answer had better be good. “Why would Trace burn down my aunt’s kennel?”
“It was your fault,” Ashley spat.
Right. I wasn’t about to let them get away with that. “What did I do?”
“You’re so stupid. You don’t know anything,” said Megan.
“Tell me.”
“You had no right to get involved with the Brody family. Poking around and meddling in things that were none of your concern. If you’d stayed away, everything would have been fine.”
“Everybody knows better than to make Trace mad,” Ashley said with a sneer. “Except you. Trace said you and your aunt needed a warning. Something to make you back off.”
“So you knew what he intended to do,” I said. “Did you come here tonight to help?”
“No,” Megan denied furiously. “That’s not what happened at all. We came to try and stop him.”
“That is such bullshit.”
Trace stepped out of the surrounding darkness to join us. I’d wondered how long it would take for him to appear. Radiating anger, the teenage boy glared at the three of us.
“You can’t blame this on me, Ash. Don’t even try, or I’ll make you so sorry you’ll wish you’d never been born. I am not taking the fall for your stupidity.”
“Don’t listen to him, Melanie.” Deliberately Ashley drew my gaze away from her cousin and back to her. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“I know exactly what I’m talking about.” Trace inserted himself between us. “In fact, you wouldn’t believe what I know.”
“Shut up!” Megan cried. “Just shut up, all right? Everybody stop talking.”
Trace glanced at her and his expression softened. “I did it to help you.”
“No, you didn’t,” she said. “You never listen. You just took over and did what you wanted. As usual.”
“Hey, I didn’t start any of this.” Trace held up his hands in a protest of innocence. “That was all on you.”
“Not me.” Megan looked around wildly as though seeking someone to blame. “It was Ashley’s idea. She’s the one who made it happen.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ashley scoffed. “Nobody would believe that. I don’t even know how to bake cookies.”
A minute earlier, Megan had called for quiet. Now she suddenly got her wish.
“Cookies?” I said into the yawning silence that followed.
Then everyone was talking at once. Ashley rounded on her sister. “You’re the one who said it would work like it does on TV.”
“You got the idea from a TV show?” Trace looked every bit as shocked as I felt. “You two are idiots. I can’t believe I ever thought a pair of dimwits would know what they were doing.”
“I’m not an idiot,” Megan said angrily. “It was a good plan. It should have worked. Leo’s whole life was about giving money to worthy causes. Who’s more worthy than his own relatives?”
“And we would have paid him back,” Ashley added. “Just as soon as we were raking in money ourselves.”
“Yeah, because that’s easy . . . starting your own fashion company in New York. With no experience, no training”—Trace leveled a look at Ashley—“and not even a college degree.”
“That didn’t stop the Olsen twins—”
He stared at the girls incredulously. “You’ve got to be kidding me. The Olsen twins are your role models? They didn’t need college. They were already famous.”
“We could have been famous too.” Megan thrust out her chin. “Our name would have opened plenty of doo
rs. All we needed was a little help getting started. It’s not like Leo didn’t have the money. It was his fault for refusing to share it with us.”
Ashley’s eyes welled with tears. “We just wanted to give him a little nudge. Make him realize that he wasn’t going to be around forever and he should be nicer to his family while he had the chance.”
“Yeah, well your plan sucked,” Trace said. “Big time.”
“It should have worked,” Megan repeated plaintively. “There’s a character on The Big Bang Theory who’s allergic to nuts. When he eats them his face swells up and it’s funny—”
“—then they take him to the emergency room and the doctors fix him and he’s fine,” Ashley chimed in. “Just like Leo was supposed to be.”
I could scarcely believe what I was hearing. The scope of the twins’ naiveté, not to mention their sense of entitlement, was absolutely staggering.
“Are you serious?” I asked. “You truly believed that a near-death experience would make your grandfather change his mind about giving you money?”
The three cousins seemed startled by the sound of my voice. In their haste to dodge responsibility for what had happened, it appeared they’d forgotten I was even there.
“You don’t understand,” said Megan. “It was supposed to be a prank.”
“You’re the ones who don’t get it,” I shot back. “Your prank resulted in someone’s death.”
“That wasn’t our fault,” Ashley whined.
The twins seemed to think that if they repeated the statement often enough, that would make it true.
I ignored her and turned to Trace. “I know you were at Leo’s house that day. Joe saw you there. What was your part in all this?”
“Nothing,” he replied quickly. “It was all them. I had nothing to do with any of it.”
Megan shot him an angry look. “That’s not true. Trace had the idea to take the EpiPen from Leo’s desk. Ash and I never would have thought of that on our own. Maybe our plan did suck, but he was just as much a part of it as we were.”
“Shut up, Megan.” The teenager’s tone was filled with menace.
“Try and make me,” she snapped back. “I know you enjoyed sneaking into Leo’s office and poking around in his things. You can’t deny it now.”
Murder at the Puppy Fest Page 24