“Pretty exciting stuff,” said Ben. He sidled over to stand beside me.
“Something like that,” I said.
Ben didn’t seem to notice my lack of enthusiasm. He chattered on about how much he and Brando were enjoying the competition and how he was looking forward to the day when his Boxer would be chosen as the Chow Down spokesdog. One thing I had to say for the actor, he wasn’t short on confidence.
Unfortunately Ben was so busy listening to himself talk that he was paying only minimal attention to Brando. The dog’s leash was looped around his fingers, but its six-foot expanse still gave the Boxer plenty of leeway to explore. When Brando looked at Faith, measured the space between them and curled his upper lip, I quickly took several judicious steps back.
And walked right into Lisa who’d been coming up behind me.
“Sorry,” she said quickly, even though I was the one who had landed squarely on her foot. “I thought we were ready to start boarding.”
As usual, Lisa was holding Yoda in her arms. The Yorkie leaned over and gazed down at Brando. You didn’t have to be a psychic to read the disdain in her gaze.
“I don’t know what’s holding us up,” said Ben. He looked around at the assembled group. Everyone seemed to be accounted for, but no one had yet climbed up into the bus.
He’d barely finished speaking before a late-model sedan came flying into the parking lot and slipped into an empty spot.
“Finally,” Doug muttered.
A middle-aged man in battered khakis and a faded baseball cap opened the car door and slid out from behind the steering wheel, dragging a leather camera bag along behind him.
“People!” Doug clapped loudly to get everyone’s attention. “This is Charlie Dunbar. Charlie’s a photographer and he’ll be traveling into New York with us to record the day’s outing.”
“Hey,” Charlie mumbled. He didn’t look very impressed either by us or the assignment. “How about we start with a group shot in front of the bus?”
“Good idea!” Doug was in cheerleader mode now. As if maybe he was hoping that some of his excess energy would transfer itself to the photographer. “Let’s line up, everyone. Little dogs in front, bigger dogs in the back.”
We probably could have figured that out for ourselves, I thought, then realized I was wrong. Because evidently Ben was under the impression that Brando was a small dog. When Dorothy and Lisa stepped to the front of the group, he went with them.
“We’ll crouch,” he said, placing himself and the Boxer front and center.
“Whatever.” Charlie pulled out a camera that looked to be loaded with bells and whistles. He didn’t touch any of them before desultorily snapping off a few shots. “Got it,” he said before half the group had even had time to pose and smile.
“Great!” said Doug. “Let’s load up, then.”
By the time Faith’s and my turn came to climb up onto the bus, all the seats near the front were already taken. Chris, Simone, and Cindy were sitting in a tight little group just behind the driver.
Lisa came next. She and Yoda had a seat to themselves. Though the benches were wide enough to accommodate two people comfortably, no one had joined her. I glanced her way briefly but when she didn’t return my look, I kept walking too.
Doug had seated himself with Charlie. Perhaps they had work to do. At any rate, I had no desire to join them.
The Reddings and Ginger were in the next row and Ben had slipped in across from them with Brando. That left Dorothy and me to share the long bench that ran along the back of the bus. We settled down next to each other, both of us directing our dogs to our outer sides. Faith and MacDuff were both experienced travelers. As soon as the bus began to move, they laid down next to our feet and closed their eyes.
Dorothy and I had met the previous week at the initial meeting, but we hadn’t had occasion to speak to one another. Now, even though we were seated side by side, it didn’t look as though that was going to change. Dorothy turned her head away and stared out a side window. As the bus lumbered through Norwalk’s industrial zone on its way to I-95, all that could be seen was a dreary visage of worn brick buildings and hulking factories. I doubted that Dorothy was enjoying the view.
Maybe a little judicious name-dropping would break the ice, I decided. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d invoked Aunt Peg’s name to shore up my own credibility. The two women were of similar age and status within their respective breeds, and the dog show world was, at its core, a very small community. Just as Peg had known immediately who Dorothy and MacDuff were, I was quite certain the reverse would also be true.
“I’m wondering if you know my aunt,” I said. “Margaret Turnbull?”
As I had hoped, the question got Dorothy’s attention. She swiveled her head my way. “Of course I know Peg. She’s your aunt?”
“Yes. She’s the one who got me started showing dogs. In fact, she’s Faith’s breeder.”
Dorothy’s gaze drifted downward to the Poodle reclining on the floor of the bus. “No wonder she’s such a good one. Your aunt has produced a wonderful family of dogs. These days, she doesn’t seem to be showing as much as she used to. At one point I was accustomed to seeing her in the group ring nearly every weekend.”
“She cut back a lot after my Uncle Max died. Now you’re much more likely to find her judging than competing.”
Dorothy nodded. “So many exhibitors make that leap eventually. After you’ve devoted your life to learning everything there is to know about your breed, it seems like the natural progression.”
“Does that mean you’re thinking about applying for a judge’s license, too?”
“I’m always thinking about it.” Dorothy laughed. “I just never seem to get around to doing the paperwork. And competing with MacDuff kept me so busy for so long . . .”
“I always enjoyed watching the two of you in the ring,” I said, and my enthusiasm was genuine. “MacDuff seemed to love what he was doing and you made a great team.”
“He adored it,” Dorothy said fondly. “He absolutely reveled in the applause and the attention. As soon as I walked him into the ring, MacDuff just turned on. He enjoyed every single minute. So much so that it seemed almost unfair to make him stop. Now I’m really hoping that we can find something for the second phase of his life that he’ll love just as much.”
A moment of awkward silence followed. As if we’d both briefly forgotten why we were there, until Dorothy’s comment reminded us. For Dorothy and MacDuff to get their wish, Faith and I would have to lose. It wasn’t the worst thing that could happen by my estimation; but Dorothy didn’t know I felt that way.
“Is your aunt still breeding?” she asked after a minute.
The bus had found the entrance ramp to the turnpike. It pulled on and merged into traffic. We were moving faster now but Central Park was still at least an hour away. Now that we’d established our credentials, Dorothy had evidently decided that she might as well while away the time in conversation.
“Occasionally. No more than a litter a year. Sometimes not even that.”
“I know how that goes. Puppies are more fun than anything. But if you’re determined to do everything right, having a litter can be a very time-consuming project.”
I suddenly thought back to the conversation I’d had with Cindy during our individual interview. We’d spoken about how determined Chris Hovick had been in his support of Yoda and MacDuff. He’d fought hard for their inclusion in the final five.
And, as it happened, his own dog was a Scottie, just like the one lying near my feet.
Coincidences happen more often than you might think; but I tend to be a naturally suspicious person. What were the chances, I wondered, that Chris had just happened to pull MacDuff’s entry out of his pile of submissions? I was willing to bet that it wasn’t very likely.
“Not to mention,” I said, “how hard it can be sometimes to find enough really great homes for all of them.”
“Fortunately I’ve never had to wor
ry about that,” the older woman said. “As you might expect, MacDuff’s reputation enhanced the desirability of everything I produced. I usually have a waiting list for my puppies.”
Aunt Peg did too, but I feigned surprised anyway. As if Dorothy had attained a level of achievement with her breeding program that most mere mortals could only dream about.
“Really?” I said casually. “Is that how you first met Chris?”
Dorothy shook her head slightly. As if maybe she was trying to place the name. Her confusion didn’t appear any more real than my surprise had. Regardless of how she answered the question, I knew that my suspicions had already been confirmed.
“Chris?”
“You know”—I nodded toward the front of the bus—“Chris Hovick?”
For a moment, Dorothy looked as though she might deny the connection. But since she wasn’t sure how much or how little I knew, I guess she quickly realized that doing so might lead to complications later.
“Did Chris tell you that?” she asked instead.
“No, but Cindy told me he had a Scottie.” I pasted a goofy smile on my face and tried to look as though I’d ventured a lucky guess. “I suppose I just put two and two together . . .”
“Sometimes when people do that, they come up with five,” Dorothy said tartly. “But in this instance, as it happens, you’re correct. Chris acquired a puppy from me last year. A very nice male. I believe he calls him Duffy.”
“A nod to his illustrious sire.”
“Quite so.”
Dorothy didn’t look at all pleased by the turn the conversation had taken. I wondered if the fact that she and Chris had had a prior connection was against the rules. Of course to know that, I would have had to have actually read the rules. Usually contests barred family members from entering. In this case it seemed as though the same ought to apply to canine families.
In any event, I was willing to bet that neither Chris nor Dorothy had advertised their previous acquaintance. Probably the other committee members had no idea. Which meant that Dorothy was right to be concerned.
As far as conversation was concerned, most people wouldn’t have considered a question about murder to be an improvement. But right about then, Dorothy was looking like she’d be very receptive to a change of topic.
“That was too bad about what happened to Larry Kim, wasn’t it?” I said.
“Indeed.” Dorothy had gone back to staring out the window. She didn’t choose to elaborate.
“Had you known him and Lisa from the shows?”
“I’d certainly seen them around. You know what the dog show world is like. The two of them had been breeding Yorkies for quite a while. Occasionally they’ve even had a good one.”
She didn’t even bother to veil the insult. I gathered she hadn’t thought very highly of the Kims.
“You don’t seem surprised that someone might have wanted to hurt Larry.”
Dorothy swiveled in the seat to face me. “Should I be?”
“I don’t know. I never met either of the Kims until last week at the meet-and-greet. Why don’t you tell me about them?”
“If you’re waiting for me to say that it was a huge loss to the dog show community, don’t bother.”
I didn’t respond, just waited in silence until she continued.
“Larry wasn’t a particularly nice person,” she said after a minute. “He wasn’t a good winner and he wasn’t a good loser. Frankly I don’t know how Lisa ever managed to live with him. He was always bossing her around, telling her what to do and where to go, as if she didn’t have a single original thought in her head.”
“So . . .” I said slowly, “you think maybe Lisa just got fed up?” Certainly Dorothy seemed to be leading me that way.
“All I know is that I wouldn’t blame her if she had. If I’d been married to Larry Kim, I would have pushed him down a flight of stairs a long time ago.”
17
Come on, I thought, tell me how you really feel. There was no need to encourage Dorothy to continue, however. She was warming to her subject now.
“There’s nothing more annoying than a young woman who looks to a man to make her decisions for her. Good Lord, what do they think women’s liberation was all about? My generation burned their bras and marched on Washington. We had to. Nobody would have listened to us otherwise. Now the girls that are coming up behind us take our accomplishments for granted, and that’s a huge mistake.”
“So you think Lisa was too subservient? A moment ago, I thought you were implying that she might be the one who had pushed him down the stairs.”
“Perhaps she simply snapped,” said Dorothy. “And bravo to her if she finally gave Larry some of his own medicine back. It was probably no more than he deserved. I’d like to think that times have changed, but they haven’t, not really. This is a man’s world and sometimes a woman has got to look out for her own.”
“You really disliked him,” I said.
“On the contrary, I didn’t know Larry Kim well enough to like or dislike him. What I abhorred was the way he treated his wife in public. One could only imagine what their private life must have been like.”
Pretty strong words and a surprising amount of emotion coming from someone who claimed not to have known the murder victim very well.
I’d always enjoyed watching Dorothy and MacDuff in the show ring. She’d looked like such a sweet and unassuming little old lady. But she definitely had a core of steel. And perhaps—considering the way she and the Scottie had made their way into the contest—a duplicitous side as well.
Faith shifted at my feet, snoring softly in her sleep and turning from one side onto the other as the bus rolled beneath us. I reached down and flicked several long, silky strands of ear hair out of her mouth. We were crossing the Triboro Bridge and entering Manhattan. It wouldn’t be long now until we arrived at our destination.
“I think it’s rather odd, don’t you?” Dorothy asked abruptly.
I turned and looked at her. “What is?”
“The way nobody talks about the fact that one of our contestants died right in our midst. Everybody, including the dearly departed’s wife, just soldiers on as if nothing even happened.”
“It seems very odd,” I agreed. “I can only think that the judges are afraid that talking about it will cast a pall over the proceedings.”
“Maybe the company is worried about liability,” said Dorothy. “That’s what everyone does these days, isn’t it? They go off and sue someone?” She paused, gazing up one side of the bus and then back down the other. “Frankly if I were them I’d be more concerned about the fact that this tight little group they’ve put together is, in all likelihood, harboring a murderer. It makes you stop and think, doesn’t it? Maybe Larry was only the first target.”
Dorothy didn’t look like the sort of woman who would be afraid of much. I wondered if she actually felt threatened; or whether, considering that we’d started the conversation by talking about her own impropriety, she was simply trying to deflect attention in another direction.
“Would you kill someone for a hundred thousand–dollar modeling contract?” I queried. It was a question I seemed to be asking a lot.
“My ethical code isn’t what’s under discussion here. But since you’ve asked, I will point out that wars have been fought for less. And with luck, the initial contract is only the beginning. Assuming that Chow Down is successful, there will be further commercials and public appearances. The promotion could go on for years, and the value to the winner could increase substantially.”
I decided to take that as a yes. Which led to my next question.
“What did you do at the end of that first meeting?”
Dorothy’s eyes narrowed. “I assume you’re asking where I was when Larry took his unfortunate fall?”
I nodded.
“To tell you the truth, I don’t have any idea. I stayed behind for a few minutes to chat with Simone. I used to work in public relations myself back in the day. I
thought perhaps we might find a common chord.”
Or more likely, she’d thought to increase MacDuff’s chances of winning by ingratiating herself with yet another of the judges.
“Then I made a pit stop at the loo. After that, MacDuff and I took the elevator down to the lobby. I’ll tell you exactly the same thing I told those two officers. Since I don’t have any idea exactly when Larry met his demise, I could have been doing any number of things at the time.”
That didn’t help much, did it? I sat back in my seat. My toe nudged Faith, who lifted her head. “Good girl,” I murmured. “We’re almost there.”
“And?” Dorothy said sharply. I realized she was still staring in my direction.
“And what?”
“I certainly don’t see why I should be the only one to furnish a description of my whereabouts. Where were you when the dire deed occurred?”
“On the stairwell,” I mumbled. As if there was any hope she would find that answer satisfactory. When Dorothy continued to stare, I offered up a more detailed explanation.
“Too bad you weren’t paying more attention,” she said at the end. Her tone was more than a little accusatory. “The police could have this whole thing wrapped up by now, and we wouldn’t have to go around wondering which one of us was busy hatching plots against the others. As if we didn’t have enough to worry about already.”
“You mean the contest.”
“Of course I mean the contest. What else would I be talking about? MacDuff and I have made it this far, and we intend to go all the way. All I can say is, nobody had better try and stop us or they’ll be sorry they ever got in our way.”
“You realize,” I said mildly, “that now it sounds as though you’re the one making threats.”
“Don’t be silly. How could anyone possibly find MacDuff and me threatening? We’re the senior citizens of the group. You know what that means, don’t you?”
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