She held my gaze, then said, “I hope that once Shogun reappears, you’ll make the right decision and give him to Trevor.” She ushered me out the door, where Sergeant Millay was waiting.
I strolled up to him. “Maybe I can’t prove anything here, but I know what she did.”
The sergeant turned on a heel and opened his car door. “I see. Well. Thanks for the information. We’ll look into this matter further.”
Sure he would. Sergeant Millay’s face bore the same expression that had been so rampant on opponents’ faces whenever I walked onto a basketball court in an unfamiliar setting. It was the look of not being taken seriously. I did the same thing now that I did then: smiled with knowledge that his expression would change once he realized I knew what I was doing.
The situation now was radically different. Then all I needed was the ball to show my opponents how badly they’d underestimated me. Now I needed to expose a killer and find a missing dog.
Before heading home, I wanted to get a take on Edith Cunningham. It would be interesting to see if she was as calm about Shogun still supposedly “missing” as Trevor had been.
I strained my memory to the maximum and recalled that I’d once heard the name of her clothing store. The name had the word “Country” and was on Mountain Avenue, the busiest street in downtown Berthoud.
I wasn’t sure about Edith’s logic in opening this particular type of a business in Berthoud. It wasn’t that we Berthoudites don’t buy nice clothes, it was just that, speaking for myself, anyway, clothing was not the sort of item that required the kind of convenience of a small, local place. There were excellent clothing stores in Fort Collins and in Boulder, which were both college towns and both within very reasonable drives from Berthoud.
I’d given Edith’s business acumen more than enough thought by the time I found her sign on the front of a small building. The store was called Country Boutique Classics. I realized with a start that this building used to house the Haywoods’ hobby shop when I was younger. I’d never ventured inside. You tend not to want to set foot in a store in which the proprietors act as though they would rather see you dead than alive.
Judging from the lack of customers, she might have been better off sticking with the Haywoods’ hobbies. She was alone behind the oak and glass counter and mustered a smile when the little brass bell above her door jingled as I entered.
I’d never been in quite so uncluttered a store. Across a wide expanse of plush azure carpeting were only a few small display tables featuring a torso, invisible except for its blouse or sweater, and a small selection of items on each tabletop. Edith must have believed that seeing more than one of a particular item of clothing hinted at factory production. Along the back wall was the only actual rack, which again boasted only a few dresses, adorned with a sign that read, “The Latest from Paris.” Why anyone in Berthoud, Colorado, would care about the latest Paris fashion was beyond me.
Edith, wearing a shimmery gold blouse and brown and gold skirt, approached. Her short auburn hair appeared to have been recently curled. “Allida, hello. Before you ask, Shogun isn’t here.”
Her abrupt greeting surprised me. How did she know I was even looking for Shogun?
“Or are you here looking for something nice to wear? Maybe I can interest you in some designer clothing.” She strode toward me. Suddenly she’d become a smiling salesperson, complete with the mannequin smile and movements. I took a step back.
“The clothes make the woman, Allida. If you want to run a successful business, you have to begin by looking the part. You want an outfit that says, ‘I’m confident. Yet fun. Appealing.’ After all, in your line of work, you have to be able to move freely.”
I glanced at the discreet signs on the table beside me, which sported a half dozen styles of blouses. The small signs bore the names of the designers, which meant nothing to me. I pulled out the price tag of a blouse and nearly choked. “Sorry, Edith, but all these clothes will say on me is, ‘I’ve overextended my budget’. I don’t think I’d be able to afford this kind of quality. I’m just trying to get my business off the ground.”
Just as though she’d decreased speeds in an internal blender, the intensity left her mannerisms and her face. She said sourly, “I know what that’s like. Tell you what, though. We’re just about to have an end-of-the-season sale. You’ll have to come in then. All of our summer items will be marked down.”
“Season-ending sale? But...this isn’t even summer yet.”
“You really are a newbie in the fashion world, aren’t you? The things I could do for you, Allida. Image, as they say, is everything.”
“Maybe I’d put more stock in that particular slogan if it were coming from a more credible source than Madison Avenue. Anyway, Edith, I am here to speak to you about Shogun.”
“Good. I want to remind you that, despite the horrible events at my house yesterday, I still need you to make a decision regarding Shogun’s custody at the earliest convenience.”
“Edith, I don’t understand how you can ask me to decide custody of your dog when he’s missing.”
“Trevor kidnapped my dog. Probably even killed Cassandra in the process.” She tucked the price tag of the blouse that I’d touched back out of sight as she spoke. “If committing murder and kidnapping aren’t grounds for awarding custody to somebody else, I don’t know what is.”
“That may be true, but at this point, Edith, there is no dog.”
“I’m sure he’ll turn up.” She realigned her display of sweaters, acting calm and blase, as though she didn’t have a care in the world.
“You don’t seem terribly worried. It’s almost as though you know where Shogun is.”
“I do.” She didn’t look up from her compulsively neat sweater arrangement. “He’s with Trevor.”
“Not according to Trevor he’s not.”
“He’s lying.”
“You’ve seen Shogun over there? You know Trevor has the dog?”
“No, but I have it on very good authority. I spoke to a mutual friend of Trevor’s and mine. She told me that she saw Trevor with Shogun at his place not even an hour ago.” Her speech bore an undercurrent of barely suppressed rage that was more than a little daunting.
“Okay. In that case, I’ll give him a call and see what he has to say about all this.”
“No, don’t bother, Allida. Everything is under control.” She glanced at her watch. “Shall we reschedule yesterday’s missed appointment at my place? Say, five-thirty tomorrow evening?”
“Are you sure you’ll even be back in your house that soon? Last I saw, it was still cordoned off with police tape.”
“I’ll be back in tomorrow. And mark my word. I’ll have my dog back from that lowlife I used to be married to by this time tomorrow if it’s the last thing I do.”
Chapter 8
As I left the “boutique,” I realized I had plenty of time to see for myself if Trevor Cunningham had Shogun before I would need to get home for my date with John.
Trevor’s current residence was a duplex just north of Longmont, some fifteen miles south of Berthoud. This particular section of town was a massive grouping of tan and brown cubes, one duplex a mere doghouse’s width from the next. The yards were so small that the residents could water their lawns by tossing a glass of water out the window. If I were Shogun, I would certainly prefer Edith’s spacious property in Berthoud.
I rang the doorbell. No answer. Also, no dog barks came in response to the ring. Neither Shogun nor Trevor was here. If Edith’s “mutual friend” had given accurate information, Trevor could have the dog with him. At least equally possible, though, was the notion that Edith had been feeding me nonsense, and Trevor didn’t have Shogun in the first place.
As I was leaving, Trevor’s thirty-something female neighbor from the other half of the duplex emerged from her front door and padded down the concrete path toward me. She was thin—emaciated, even—with unusually wide-spaced gray eyes, and was exceptionally pale. She blink
ed and shielded her eyes as if she could barely tolerate the bright sunlight.
“Are you Edith?” she asked in a trembling voice, her face slightly averted as if she were afraid of me. She peered through her long but sparse bangs at me, her eyes wide. Despite the temperature of at least eighty degrees, she wore an oversized gray cardigan sweater that dwarfed her frail frame.
The woman’s overall demeanor was so fearful that I was too curious to do the right thing and simply say no. “Hello, there. Trevor didn’t answer the doorbell.”
“No, he’s still not home, just like I said. I’m so glad you got my message. I wasn’t sure you’d check your machine before Trevor got back.”
I made no comment, but gave her a reassuring smile.
She chewed on her lower lip and was a picture of nervous energy, still blinking almost compulsively as she watched the street as if primed to bolt at the first sight of a car. “He could be back any minute. I’ve got the dog, like you asked. But Edith, I’ve just... I’m so...” She paused, then shut her eyes and blurted, “I’ve got to tell you, I don’t feel good about doing this. He doesn’t even know I have a key to his place.”
“You’ve got Shogun in your home?” I tried to keep my emotions in check, realizing that Edith, unlike me, would not have been taken aback by this odd bit of news.
She held up her palms. “I know you told me to wait and do it tomorrow, but if what you say about him is true, I didn’t want to risk leaving the dog in his possession for another twenty-four hours.”
“Huh. I can understand how you must have felt.” Edith must have manipulated the woman into grabbing the dog, and the woman had done so a day ahead of Edith’s schedule. Perhaps this was the “mutual friend” Edith had mentioned, who’d reported to her that Trevor had Shogun. If so, this “friend” didn’t even know what Edith looked like. Edith must have gotten hold of the woman’s number somehow and told her that Trevor had been abusing the dog. Though I didn’t know either Trevor or Edith very well, I at least knew that Trevor Cunningham was not about to abuse his little dog.
“So can you take Shogun now? I did exactly what you said and opened a back window a couple more inches to make Trevor think the dog got out and ran away. But you’ve just got to get him out of here right away. Trevor’s going to come over to my place the moment he sees the dog is missing. And sooner or later he’ll hear Shogun bark through the common wall.”
Though it was dishonest of me, there was only one way to make certain someone else didn’t disappear with the dog. “Yes, it’s fine. I’ll take Shogun now.”
“Oh, thank goodness.” She smiled for the first time and straightened a bit. She went inside her place to get the dog.
I hated compounding Edith’s deceit toward this kind-hearted, anxious woman with one of my own. As soon as she’d given Shogun to me, I would tell her who I was and explain that Edith had merely tricked her into believing Trevor was abusive to the dog.
Before I could give the matter more than a fleeting consideration, Edith’s black Lexus came flying down the street. She must have heard the phone message that the woman had left for her.
Edith hit her brakes, the tires squealing in protest as a spray of dust went up. She left her car running and emerged from it without pausing to feign calmness or even dignity. It was probably too late for either pretense.
She gave a glance at the door of the woman’s half of the duplex, then looked at me. Her facial expression made it obvious that the wheels were turning in her devious mind. “Oh, Allida. I see you’re here. Good. I meant to tell you. Trevor’s neighbor now has Shogun.”
She gave a second glance at the neighbor’s front door, where the woman was now emerging with Shogun in her arms, then force-fed me a smile. “So you and I can go back to our original arrangement. You can come over tomorrow to visit with Shogun and decide which of us gets the dog, now that I’ve located him.”
She turned her attention to the puzzled-looking woman before us. “You must be Fiona. Hi. We spoke on the phone earlier. I’m Edith Cunningham. Thank you so much for rescuing my dog.” She reached for Shogun.
Fiona stepped back, turning her shoulder to block Edith from even touching the dog. “You ‘re not Edith Cunningham.” She pointed at me with her chin. “She is.”
Edith clicked her tongue and put her hands on her hips. “No, she isn’t. I am. Do you need me to show you my driver’s license?”
“She’s telling the truth. I’m Allida Babcock, a dog psychologist.”
Fiona seemed to shrink into herself, but continued to stare at us through her bangs. She clutched the dog closer to her chest
“I’m very sorry, Fiona. The Cunninghams asked me to determine which of them deserved the dog, and I let you believe that I was Edith until I could ascertain that the dog was safe. It’d be best, under the circumstances, if you gave Shogun to me for the time being.”
A car was slowing behind me, and I knew even while I still had my back to the car that Trevor had come home. Edith cursed, and indeed the driver of the approaching car was Trevor. He took one look at the three of us standing out front, deserted his task of putting his car in the garage, and raced over.
He stepped directly between his neighbor and his estranged wife. “Fiona, what are you doing with Shogun? Give him to me.”
She started shaking her head, backing away from us. “You people are crazy. You don’t deserve this precious dog! None of you do!” She shuffled into her home and shut the door. An instant later, the metal click let us know that she’d thrown the bolt. I’d have done the exact same thing in her shoes.
“Edith! What the—”
Edith whirled around and jabbed a finger at Trevor. “Don’t you even start! You tried to kidnap Shogun! I’ll bet you even killed Cassandra Randon!”
“I didn’t kill anybody! Though I’d snap that toothpick neck of yours like that”—he snapped his fingers in Edith’s face—“if I thought I could get away with it. And I didn ‘t kidnap Shogun. Luellen found him. I called her the moment I found out he was missing. She drove out to look for him and found him on Second Street a couple of blocks from the house.” Trevor turned to me. “She’d already found him by the time I was talking to you and your mom, but I didn’t know it at the time.” He refocused on Edith and said harshly, “He was probably trying to find his way to my house to get away from you.”
“You expect anyone to believe that?” Edith shouted, just as Trevor cried, “He could have gotten hit by a car!”
“As if it’s my fault that you left the gate open!” Edith cried, opting to defend herself against Trevor’s accusation of carelessness.
“How did you know the gate was open, unless you left it that way?” Trevor asked.
“The policeman told me, you moron! And I’m filing dognapping charges against you!”
“There’s no such thing. Even if there were, neither my sister nor I stole the dog. Luellen realized that Shogun would be best off with me, and so she kept him hidden away for a day. That’s all there was to it. I was going to call you tomorrow and let you know that I had the dog, just as soon as the dust settled.”
“Like hell you were!” Edith said with a snort. “You and Luellen stole Shogun. I was completely within my rights to ask your neighbor to help me get him back.”
“You’ve got a lot of nerve accusing me of stealing the dog, when you coerce my neighbor into snatching Shogun out of my house!”
I’d heard more than enough of this and employed a seldom-needed talent I’d picked up as a kid and put two fingers from each hand in my mouth and let go with an ear-splitting whistle. The Cunninghams abruptly stopped arguing and covered their ears, wincing and eying me in surprise.
“Fiona is right,” I said through a tight jaw the moment they’d lowered their hands. “You two are crazy for behaving like two-year-olds. And I’m crazy for agreeing to mediate this mess!”
For a blessed moment, they listened in silence.
I began again in calm tones. “Here is what we’
re going to do. We’re all taking a few deep breaths, then we’re going to approach Fiona, on bended knee if need be, beg her forgiveness, and you are both going to assure her that you support my taking temporary custody of Shogun.”
They both started to protest, but stopped when I held up my palms.
“If you don’t agree to do exactly what I say, I am going to tell the judge at your divorce hearing that neither of you deserves this dog, and I’ll insist that we find an alternative home for Shogun. Have I made myself clear?”
Since I’d given them no choice, they nodded and grumbled their compliance. I rang Fiona’s doorbell. After a couple of minutes of groveling, we convinced Trevor’s badly shaken neighbor to hand Shogun over to me.
Before anyone could change their minds, I drove off, telling the Cunninghams that they’d hear from me soon. Shogun, the poor dear, was so out of sorts that he was trembling in my arms. I broke a cardinal rule and allowed the dog to sit in my lap while I drove. I talked to him in soothing tones, but he was still visibly upset until he perked up as I pulled into my street. His little tail began to wag once I headed up the driveway, and he was clearly happy at being back in his neighborhood.
It occurred to me as I got out of the car that very soon John from the animal shelter was going to arrive with Suds and her five puppies, and here I was bringing home what would be guest dog number seven. I sure hoped Mom greeted my temporary canine housing with her usual good humor.
Leaving Shogun in the car for the moment so that I could give the dogs forewarning with what would be a powerful scent on my clothing, I entered through our garage. Mom’s King Cab pickup was not there. I let the dogs in and allowed them to collect their data with their noses while I read the note Mom had left on the kitchen counter. She was at a friend’s house and she’d be back soon.
I instructed the dogs to lie down and stay, then went out to the garage and got Shogun out of the car. The key to introducing a new dog to one’s other dogs is to make it clear from the start that this new dog is the bottom-runger. Therefore, rather than carrying Shogun, I put him down on the garage floor, opened the door, and went in first, having him follow me.
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