The Deadly Dog Show (Roger and Suzanne South American Mystery Series Book 6)

by Jerold Last

  Suzanne listened to the diatribes with mild amazement and strong irritation. "This is worse than a couple of mothers at a beauty contest making excuses for why their children are losing. It's never the DNA, always the judge's fault. The winners can't just be better. They have be torn down so it's somebody else's fault when their baby loses.

  "I thought when we came here this was supposed to be a dog show. Now I'm listening to a couple of catty people making catty remarks about everybody else's winning dogs. If this is the norm, I understand a whole lot better why the AKC is giving you a lot of their money to make sure that all of the losers' bitching about 'we was robbed' by the judge doesn't have any basis in fact."

  As the day progressed, the pattern became clear. All of the cattiness and complaining was not just in this ring at this time, but was typical of many of the owners' and handlers' discussions during and after the show. One of the many lessons we learned this day was that we were truly in Lake Woebegone, where in the eyes of much of the audience all of the dogs and bitches were above average and all of the judges weren't.

  Finally we got to the important part of the GSP competition, at least important from our point of view. From his perch well above the crowd Robert watched as Sherry's young bitch Doulla came out of the "open" class as the winner. She would go on to Best of Winners in the breed competition to compete with Juliet and an excellent Specials class. Thanks to Bruce's skilled handling and her own innate quality and exuberant personality Juliet won Best of Breed, which also earned her 5 more points towards her "Grand Champion" title. That meant we not only had to stay around for the benched part of the show, but we'd also get to see Juliet compete later in the day against all of the other winners from the various breeds that make up the Sporting Group to determine which dog would finally compete for the coveted Best in Show title. As a shorthaired rather than heavily coated breed, Juliet had a less than excellent chance to win at the next level, but it was an honor to get that far in the competition, especially in a show as large as this one.

  After the breed competition in the ring was completed, we stayed around to congratulate Sherry on going Best of Winners with Doulla and getting the number of points needed for her to now officially become Champion California Vintage Wyne. We watched the professional photographer take the stock photo of the winning bitch, her owner-handler, and the judge for the competition. Bruce and Juliet also got their picture taken with the same judge to commemorate this important win for Juliet.

  Sherry told us she hadn't expected to finish today under Orval Krause, and this was a most pleasant surprise for her. That seemingly casual comment earned a raised eyebrow from Suzanne. I made a mental note about Sherry having the homicide detective’s holy trinity of motive, means, and opportunity. After the photo session, Suzanne, Robert, and I headed back to the benching area for the rest of the ritual at a benched dog show. Bruce and Juliet had already returned to Juliet's designated bench area and were waiting for us there.

  Bruce, who was very far out of the closet and made absolutely no attempt to hide his sexual proclivities, was surrounded by a half-dozen subtly stated to flamboyantly gay males of various ages. Thanks to the Cow Palace’s proximity to San Francisco, Bruce was discovered today by a pod of potential groupies, just like a rock star. As they wandered through the benched area, they were probably drawn as much to the handler as to the dog at this particular show.

  Suzanne talked directly to Robert, who gurgled a response to show he was listening. "A benched show is just like a regular dog show as far as the judging part in the ring. The benched part is an additional requirement. The dogs are kept on or around a specific bench position they've been assigned from 10 AM till 4 PM except for the hour or so of scheduled ring time. Anyone at the show can come around, look at the dog a lot more closely, and ask questions of the breeder, handler, or owner, who's expected to be here all of that time. It's a good way for the spectators to see a lot of different breeds close up and decide which is the right breed for them. Now it’s your job, Robert, to let everyone see how wonderful Juliet is with babies."

  Like most smart, successful, and experienced show dogs, Juliet could pretty much stack herself. Sherry, and now Bruce, had trained her well. She stacked herself when people came by the benched area to look more closely at her than they could when she was in the ring or to ask Bruce questions about her conformation, temperament, and breeding. Some of these people asking all of the questions were trying to decide what kind of dog they wanted to buy for their own families, so Bruce had to field questions like: "How long do they live?" "Are there health issues with this breed?" "How are they with kids?" "Can show dogs also be used to hunt?"

  As the noon hour approached, all of the activity in the rings came to a halt as the judges took lunch breaks between their various breed assignments. At the same time, some very official looking gentlemen and ladies, accompanied by a hovering entourage, came by our benching area. Someone asked if anybody could point out an owner named Roger Bowman. I stepped forward and introduced myself to the distinguished looking man wearing an expensive suit in the front of the entourage with an oversized belly spilling over his belt. It was significant, perhaps, that he was also wearing suspenders. He in turn introduced himself as Colonel Kenneth Carstairs, President of the Golden Gate Kennel Club sponsoring this show. He introduced several of his companions in the entourage, whose names I promptly forgot. They were the officers of the same local dog club that Col. Carstairs presided over and all looked and acted more or less alike.

  Somehow the Colonel was able to act and sound pompous even while asking for my help. "We have a huge problem here today. As a dog owner, we know you will be happy to help us out. You must have heard by now we had an unfortunate incident occur at this event. The police are asking everybody questions. I’m personally asking each of the dog owners here to cooperate with the police investigation however they ask you to do so. Will you please do so?"

  I looked over to Suzanne. "What do you think about this, Suzanne? Should we cooperate here? This could give help us with that other matter we're interested in."

  Suzanne nodded affirmatively, I said yes, and Carstairs nodded at both of us, offering a limp handshake. Then, he and the entourage wandered off to do whatever else dog club officers do at a large dog show featuring a dead judge.

  I took Bruce aside. "Hey Bruce, I assume the professional handlers gossip among themselves. For the rest of today, when you don't have to be handling Juliet I'd like you to mingle with the other handlers and listen to what they say about this murder. Do they suspect any of the handlers or the owners? Talk with as many of them as you can."

  Bruce smiled and looked like he was going to have a lot more fun as a detective than he was standing beside his beloved Juliet answering lots of bizarre questions. "They certainly do gossip. I'll see what I can find out."

  I turned back to my wife. "Suzanne, I have a hunch that this killing is somehow closely tied in with my job with the AKC. We need to spend some time investigating it. I'd like you to schmooze with the dog owners. Take Robert with you to break the ice. See what they have to say about the killing and whether they have any favorite suspects. I'll chat with the show judges and club members. Let's reconnect in an hour or two here at Juliet's bench and compare notes. And Suzanne, can you and Robert handle Juliet without Bruce's help? That would give him a free hour without doggy care between now and the Group competition to gossip with the handlers."

  Suzanne nodded her agreement. She had always enjoyed being an active participant in our detective team and I could see her perking up. "Sure. Can I tell Sherry what we're trying to do? She knows all of the owners in the sporting dog breeds and can make talking to a lot of strangers a whole lot easier for me. The original benching area for sporting breeds has a large chunk roped off as a crime scene. Now we’re pretty scattered as a breed into two different buildings and can use all of the help we can get with the sporting dog fanciers coming by here, as well as all the ghouls and lookie-loos w
ho want to see where the body was found. Maybe Sherry can ask the other Shorthair owners benched near Juliet to keep an eye on her while we wander around and mix with the other owners."

  I thought this question over for a bit. Sherry was an ally who was supposed to be here to help our investigation. But, technically at least, she was also a suspect in a murder case. I decided to trust my gut on this one, at least for now. "Getting Sherry’s help is probably a good idea, but ask her not to tell any of the others what you're doing and don’t tell her any more than you have to about our plans."

  Chapter15.Detecting at a dog show

  We broke up to go our separate ways. I went back to the roped-off crime scene in the former benching area to introduce myself to the cop in charge ---good etiquette in this situation. It’s also required by the licensure regulations if you are a private detective from a different part of the state who might be getting involved in a police case. The detective in charge was pointed out to me as Inspector Callahan (Steven not Dirty Harry). The Inspector looked clean, so his not being named Harry seemed appropriate. He was about my age, experienced enough to know what to do at a crime scene, and seemed to have the situation under control. I introduced myself and explained how the AKC had hired me for an undercover job that might overlap his murder investigation.

  Inspector Callahan, who was about my size, straightened to his full height and assuming his most intimidating manner, introduced himself by flashing his badge and I.D., and ignoring my outstretched hand. His first question was, "Do you think you can stay out of our way? If you can't, I can have your license revoked."

  This was, unfortunately, a typical and all-too familiar attitude among regular police officers towards private detectives, and obviously called for a response. "I was a homicide cop in L.A. once upon a time. Before that I went to law school at UCLA and got my degree before I ever became a cop and a P.I. We can co-operate here or I can do my own thing. That's your choice. If you want to invent laws to justify being a jerk, be my guest. I'm not impressed and you can't intimidate me. If you want me to share whatever I find with you, let's start over. I'm Roger Bowman. I'm a P.I. from Los Angeles. The American Kennel Club, which charters the local dog club and sponsors shows like this one, hired me to conduct an undercover investigation to try to find out whether anything illegal or unethical is going on with the dog shows this season. I am voluntarily sharing that information with you because it's my responsibility to do so and because I think we have the same goals here with respect to solving this murder."

  This time he offered his hand for a shake. I could hear the faint remains of a regional accent from back east, probably New York, in his speech. "I'm Steven Callahan, Roger, and I'm glad to meet you. Sorry for acting like a jerk. It's been a long morning already. I can use all the help I can get on this case. Go ahead and do your thing; I assume you know the dos and don'ts as far as staying out of our way while we do our thing here at the crime scene. I'd appreciate hearing anything you find out about this case as soon as you get the information. Just call me at either of the numbers on my card," he said, handing me his business card with his cell and office phone numbers on it.

  We shook hands again and I wandered off to find Col. Carstairs. I wanted access to the judges and needed somebody in authority to arrange for me to ask them some questions. I also wanted to get their take on the murder. I found the Colonel and his entourage in a VIP suite where the police had parked them pending their interviews. The VIP suite was a large partitioned-off meeting room on the first floor on the west side of the arena, set up with comfortable chairs, a wet bar, and a table of bread, salads, and cold cuts to make into do-it-yourself lunches or snacks as desired. The walls were bare and the room had an aura of temporariness about it. Now came the tricky part; I needed an excuse to get local club sponsorship to introduce me to the judges while I continued to be just another dog owner to maintain my cover story. That meant I couldn't use my P.I. license to open those doors. I decided to try playing a different card.

  "Hello again, Colonel Carstairs. I wonder if you could help me here." I greeted him.

  He stood up and offered a weak smile. "Mr. Bowman. I didn’t expect to see you so soon again. I'm always glad to help a dog owner," he replied insincerely. "What can I do to be of assistance to you?"

  "I'd like you to take me to wherever the judges are being kept and instruct them to talk to me."

  He looked like he had just tasted something bitter. "Why would I want to do that?"

  I smiled and tried to look dishonest. "Because I'm a lawyer and the Club might appreciate the results if any of the surviving judges who decide to lawyer up retain a friend of the dog show circuit."

  He thought this through for the better part of a minute before he could make a decision. "Hmmm, that makes sense to me. OK, I'll take you there." Carstairs led me to another, smaller, VIP suite upstairs above the arena where the judges were sequestered between events, protected from inappropriate contact with the spectators and owners. Things were pretty complicated, because the police were also interviewing the judges one-by-one. Judges were coming and going as their assignments to rings were called or as the police called their names for interviews. Meanwhile, the between-event and between-interrogation judges were sequestered in this crummy VIP suite to keep them away from spectators, owners, dogs, would-be killers, and other dog show riff-raff.

  Carstairs knocked firmly on the door, which was opened by a tall middle-aged lady, wearing a grey business suit, with glasses and gray hair pulled back in a bun. She looked like, and almost certainly was, one of the judges. The small judges’ VIP suite was a much less comfortable room than the club officials had been given in the large show venue. There weren’t any luxuries there, either. This VIP room had less comfortable chairs, no bar, and a much more modest table of deli-lunch ingredients for the hungry do-it-yourselfer. Bare walls, no rugs on the floor, and a sense of being temporary gave this room a very low score for ambiance.

  She looked at me, then at the Colonel. "What can we do for you now, Colonel Carstairs?"

  The colonel hemmed and hawed a bit, then came out with an intriguing mixture of truth, fiction, and self-serving baloney. "This is one of our newer owner-breeders, Roger Bowman, Mrs. McGyver. He's also an attorney retained by the club during the police investigation, to make sure all of our interests are being protected. The club feels an obligation to our judges, so Mr. Bowman can offer any or all of you free legal advice at our expense, if you think you may need it. In return for this, we hoped you could answer his questions regarding the events that occurred before he arrived here for today's show."

  Marlene McGyver looked at me for a moment before replying to Carstairs. "He's certainly cute enough to be worth my time. You can leave him here while we chat." The other judges nodded their assent as Carstairs left us to return downstairs and continue being important.

  "OK, Roger," she continued. "We all know that pompous blowhard has only one person's interests in mind, and that person is himself. But you really are kind of cute. Can I assume that you really are a lawyer? What would you like to ask us?"

  I tried as hard as I could to look sincere. "Yes, I really am a lawyer. I'd like to know two things----first, did any of you see or hear anything out of the ordinary today? And second, I'd like to know how the whole judging selection process works for these dog shows. Is there a core group of regular judges at most of the shows, or do you all get your assignments at random? That is, would anyone have known that Orval Shultz was judging today’s sporting group dogs here before the programs came out? How far in advance of this show did they publish the names of the judges? Were any substitutions made after the program was published?"

  "That's more than two things,” began Marlene as she settled her tall frame into an uncomfortable looking metal folding chair, “but we'll try to answer your questions. I for one didn't see or hear anything unusual. That was the first question the police asked me after my name and address. How about everyone else?"


  One by one they nodded no. That added up to a dozen nods agreeing with Mrs. McGyver. I asked everyone where they were from---five from California, one from Woodland, but that meant Woodland, Washington, and the rest were from New York, Florida, Kansas, Nevada, Oregon, and South Carolina.

  Mrs. McGyver continued, "There's no core group; any of us can only judge shows in the same area once every few months, to prevent any judge from getting too close to the clubs or the owners. The judges are selected many months in advance. Some of the all-breed judges actually sign contracts the better part of a year in advance. The programs are published before the entries close, so owners can choose to enter a show based on whether or not they think the judge will like their dog. Many of the judges work in this area a few times a year. After a couple of years, most owners think they know what almost all of the different judges are looking for in the show ring. Are all of you the original selections or were there any substitutions?"