Ruff Justice

by Laurien Berenson

  The judge sent her two dog class winners around the ring together. Both Standard Poodles were on their game. Both were moving well. The judge’s gaze flicked back and forth between them. She’d evaluated the two dogs only minutes earlier, but she was still comparing their merits in her mind.

  Sometimes the decision was so clear-cut that the choice was easy. It wasn’t going to happen that way today, unfortunately.

  As soon as the dogs were back where they’d started, Mrs. Denby came over for a closer look at Augie. She stared at his face, then moved around to his side. She plunged her hands into the Poodle’s thick coat to assess the things she couldn’t see. Mrs. Denby’s fingers measured the angle of Augie’s shoulder and traced the length of his solid topline.

  That done, she moved back to Crawford’s puppy and repeated the same assessment. There were only two dogs in the Winners class. A full five minutes had passed since they entered the ring. The suspense was killing me.

  Finally Mrs. Denby was satisfied with what she’d found. She stepped away from the pair and took one last, long look. Davey and Augie were still at the front of the line.

  “He’s going to do it,” Sam said under his breath.

  “Don’t jinx him!” I shot back.

  Oh my God, I thought as the words left my mouth. I was turning into Aunt Peg.

  I felt as if I was watching in slow motion as Mrs. Denby lifted her hand to indicate the winner. Her index finger was like a slim arrow, capable of conveying joy or doom in a single motion. The judge looked at Augie. She looked at the puppy. Then she looked at Augie again and pointed his way.

  After all this time, it was finally done. Davey had a champion Standard Poodle.

  Chapter 17

  “We did it!” Davey whooped.

  He jumped in the air. Augie followed. Crawford slapped him on the back, then shook his hand. He was smiling too. The two Standard Poodles danced a jig around their handlers.

  The judge had been on the way to mark her book, but now she turned around. “Did what?”

  “You made him a champion.” Davey’s grin was wide enough to light up the whole ring.

  “Congratulations, that’s wonderful,” Mrs. Denby said kindly. “You did a nice job with him and he was a very deserving winner. I hope you’ll have his picture taken with me.”

  “Absolutely.”

  After that incredible moment, the rest of the judging seemed anticlimactic. In fact, we were so busy congratulating each other and telling Augie what a good dog he was, that we almost missed his return to the ring for the Best of Variety judging. The steward had to call out Davey’s number twice, but she was smiling too.

  Crawford’s Standard special topped that class, but Augie was awarded Best of Winners. Having finished judging all three Poodle varieties, Mrs. Denby took a break for pictures. We waited near the in-gate while the photographer was summoned to the ring.

  “I can’t believe it finally happened,” Davey said. “It seemed like it took forever.”

  “It did,” Sam replied. “But you learned something every step of the way, didn’t you?”

  “The most important thing I learned is that I should never promise to finish another Standard Poodle,” Davey said with a wink.

  “Oh pish,” Aunt Peg chimed in. “Now that you’ve got the first one behind you, the second one will be easier.”

  “Second one?” I sputtered.

  We all turned to look at her. We already had a house full of dogs. And each of our Poodles was already a champion.

  “I was thinking about Coral,” Aunt Peg informed us. “With all the judging I’m doing, it doesn’t seem entirely proper for me to be in the show ring too. Now that she’s had a few outings for experience, I was thinking it might be time to pass Coral along to another handler.”

  “Crawford has an opening for a puppy bitch,” Terry piped up.

  Aunt Peg gazed down her nose at him. “I’ll bear that in mind. But I was thinking of someone a little closer to home.”

  We all knew where she was going with this idea. Dog shows were Aunt Peg’s avocation, her recreation, her life’s passion. Years earlier, she’d chosen Davey to follow in her footsteps. Things hadn’t worked out for her then. Davey had dabbled in Junior Showmanship only briefly before calling it quits. But Aunt Peg had never surrendered the belief that she would eventually succeed in luring him back to the fold.

  “Well?” she prompted when Davey remained silent.

  He didn’t answer right away. I thought he was trying to come up with a way to turn her down. But Davey surprised me.

  “I’ll think about it,” he answered finally.

  I’d expected Davey to reject her offer out of hand. It looked like teaching Augie to jump over obstacles and pick up dumbbells might have to wait a little longer.

  Even though Augie had probably exited the show ring for the last time, his coat still had to be attended to. The big Poodle was lifted back onto his table and Sam and Davey began the process of brushing out the hairspray, taking down his topknot, and wrapping his ears.

  While they were doing that, I took another trip around the showground. The conversation I’d overheard outside the Springer ring, and my subsequent confrontation with Rick Fanelli, had raised more questions than they’d answered. There were still people I needed to talk to, and this dog show was a convenient opportunity for me to find everyone in one place.

  The concessions were on the other side of the big, grassy field. I gave Rick’s setup—and indeed, the entire other tent—a very wide berth. So the trek around the double row of rings gave me plenty of time to think.

  Judging by the timing of Rick’s sudden aggression, whatever business he’d been involved in with Jasmine Crane was a sore subject. I wondered what he didn’t want me to know.

  Up until now, I’d thought of Jasmine as an artist who supported herself by selling paintings and, more recently, beaded leashes and collars. But I couldn’t figure out how Rick would have been involved in any of that.

  The other connection between Jasmine and Rick—a much more vital link—was Amanda Burke. Several people I’d spoken to had mentioned that Jasmine was instrumental in finding dog-sitting jobs for Amanda and Tamryn. Perhaps she’d been doing the same for others as well.

  Those pet sitters were being paid good money for their services. And, judging by Amanda’s schedule, they were busy nearly all the time. I wondered if the majority of Tamryn’s and Amanda’s jobs had been obtained through Jasmine’s connections. And whether or not the artist might have been taking a fee for her referrals.

  With his small string of dogs and indifferent handling skills, it didn’t seem likely that Rick was supporting himself showing dogs. Abby had characterized her sister’s boyfriend as someone on the lookout for an easy source of income. Had Rick tried to muscle in on Jasmine’s pet-sitting business? Based on what I’d learned about Jasmine, I could certainly imagine her resisting such a move. Might that have been the source of the altercation that Tamryn had seen? And how would I go about proving any of that?

  Luckily that was when I reached the row of vendors. Otherwise, I would have been gnashing my teeth in frustration. My first stop was at Spenser Pet Supplies.

  Lana Spenser was with another customer when I arrived, so I spent a few minutes browsing through her extensive selection of shears. When Lana finished that transaction, she came striding over. Her long braid was bobbing on her shoulder and, as always, she was smiling.

  “Great to see you again, Melanie. What can I help you with today?”

  “I’m afraid I have a few more questions,” I said. “But after that, we can talk scissors. Sam has a birthday coming up.”

  “Excellent,” Lana replied. “I don’t think I had any answers for you before, but feel free to try again. Did you manage to locate Amanda?”

  “No. Otherwise, I’d have let you know. But her sister, Abby, got a text from her, so at least that’s something.”

  “I’m glad she’s okay.” Lana sounded relieved.
“So what’s your question?”

  “Last time we spoke, you said that Jasmine Crane and Alan Crandall were thick as thieves. What did you mean by that?”

  “Nothing really. It’s just a figure of speech.”

  “But it must have been prompted by something.”

  Lana shrugged. “You know what it’s like when you go to shows with the same people week after week. We’re all on the road a lot. We’re stuck in this insular environment. Sometimes things get a little . . . cozy.”

  “Things?” I asked. “Or people? I gather Jasmine could be quite the flirt.”

  “That’s one way of putting it.”

  “What’s another?”

  “Don’t get me wrong, Jasmine certainly liked to flirt. She flirted with customers, with fellow vendors, even with the guys who set up the rings. I saw Jasmine flirt with a burger-flipper once.” Lana stopped and laughed. “And she scored a free lunch for her efforts.”

  “Maybe that was the point,” I said.

  “Oh, I’m sure it was. Because it never seemed like Jasmine was flirting just for fun. Or even to give her sexual appetites a fling. Her vamping had more of a calculated edge. Jasmine liked to use people, to see what she could get from them. All that teasing, and touching, and smiling, was her way of getting her foot in the door.”

  I’d heard this refrain several times before.

  “What did Jasmine want from Alan Crandall?” I asked curiously.

  “I have no idea. Maybe nothing. Flirting was Jasmine’s default mechanism, you know? She did it with everybody. Alan was probably just another guy in her field of vision. Except that he took her up on it.”

  “How?”

  Lana held up her hands. “Don’t ask me for specifics because I don’t know how the affair started. But all at once, it was pretty clear that Alan and Jasmine were an item. They weren’t even particularly discreet about it.”

  None of this jibed with what Alan had told me. He’d described his relationship with Jasmine as not particularly friendly. Or maybe, I thought, he’d been speaking with the benefit of hindsight.

  “Was their lack of discretion a problem?” I asked.

  “Not for those of us who worked next to them,” Lana said. “But Barb Crandall was pissed as hell.”

  “Alan’s wife?” I guessed.

  Lana nodded. “She must have figured out that something was up. Before Alan and Jasmine got together, we hardly ever saw Barb at a dog show. Then suddenly she started showing up every weekend. Trying to act casual as she poked around, asking questions. Barb even came over here and had a look at me, trying to figure out if I was the one.”

  Lana and I shared a grin.

  “I assume you managed to convince her of your innocence?”

  “It wasn’t hard. Especially once I made it clear that I don’t even like her husband.”

  “Did Barb ever figure out that Jasmine was the woman Alan was sleeping with?” I asked.

  “It certainly seemed like it. Because Barb and Jasmine had a big blowup at a show one day. Unfortunately I wasn’t close enough to hear what they were yelling about, but after that Alan and Jasmine began avoiding each other like the plague. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what the problem was.”

  “How long ago did that happen?”

  “The affair probably began before Thanksgiving, and it lasted for a few months. Barb and Jasmine had their showdown maybe six weeks ago?” Lana’s eyes twinkled. She was enjoying her competitor’s misfortune. “Ever since then, Alan has been hiding in his booth like a whipped dog. I haven’t seen him poke his nose out of there in weeks.”

  “Thanks for telling me,” I said.

  “No problem. Although if you pass that story along to anyone else, I’d appreciate it if you keep my name out of it. It wouldn’t be good for business if people thought I was gossiping about them behind their backs.”

  “Sure, I can do that.”

  “I have to admit, you’ve made me curious,” Lana said.

  “Is there a particular reason you wanted to know about Alan and Jasmine?”

  “Actually, it was the expression you used to describe them.”

  “What about it?”

  “You called them thick as thieves, and it stuck in my mind. Especially since last week I heard about a judge whose house had been robbed while he was away at a show. Then this morning someone mentioned a Chessie exhibitor who’d had the same thing happen. I’ve been trying to find a link between Jasmine’s death and Amanda’s disappearance, but when this other stuff came up for the second time, I remembered what you’d said. It seemed like too big a coincidence, so I figured I should check it out.”

  Lana’s eyes had widened while I was speaking. She looked like she’d seen a ghost. “Here’s another coincidence for you. I know some guys who were robbed too.”

  I hadn’t expected that. “Who was it?”

  “Elliott Bean and his partner, Roger Marx. Do you know them?”

  I shook my head.

  “They’re from somewhere in Westchester. Maybe Rye? They have Scottish Deerhounds. Big dogs. Big enough that they thought it would keep them safe from being targeted. But it didn’t.”

  “Was their house broken into while they were away at a show?” I asked.

  “Sorry.” Lana frowned. “I have no idea about that.”

  “Do you happen to know if Elliott and Roger ever used a dog-sitter?”

  Lana looked surprised by the question. I could see her making the connection. “You mean like Amanda?”

  “Precisely. Or maybe her friend, Tamryn.”

  “I don’t know about that either. But I have Elliott’s card around here somewhere. I can call him and ask.”

  “Would you, please?”

  “Sure, no problem. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear something.”

  “That would be great,” I said. “Now, about those scissors. . .”

  “Step right this way.” Lana reverted to sales mode as we walked over to the display case. “Are you interested in American made? German? Japanese?”

  “Let’s start with Japanese.”

  Lana smiled. “I like a woman with expensive tastes.”

  We spent ten minutes looking at her selection of shears. I picked out a pair I was sure Sam would like and put them on layaway. Japanese scissors were an extravagance. Sam would never buy them for himself. But I’d be delighted to surprise him with a pair on his birthday.

  My next stop was at Creature Comforts. As I’d expected, the booth was busy. I didn’t see Alan Crandall, but a salesman directed me around to the back of the concession where the Creature Comforts truck was parked. Alan was out there unloading a pallet of dog beds.

  He saw me coming, set the pallet down on the ground, and straightened. “You’ve discovered my secret.”

  Actually I had. But Alan didn’t know that yet.

  “Which secret is that?” I asked.

  “When it comes to this business, I’m a Jack of all trades. I’ll do just about anything to keep things running smoothly. What can I do for you, Melanie?”

  Usually I try to ease my way into the tough questions. But since Alan had purposely given me the runaround before, I decided to cut to the chase. “Since the last time we spoke, some new information has come to light.”

  Alan looked politely curious. “Oh? What’s that?”

  “Why did you lie to me about your relationship with Jasmine Crane?”

  “I don’t recall that I did.”

  “You told me that you barely knew Jasmine. Something about proximity and common goals being the only things you had in common. And now I find out that you and she were having an affair.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “It could have been almost anyone,” I said. “Apparently you and Jasmine weren’t very discreet.”

  “I’m not going to discuss this with you.” Alan turned away. He leaned down to pick up the pallet again.

  “Why not? Are you trying to protect your wife?”

>   Alan spun back up and glared. “Barb has nothing to do with this.”

  “She was angry about your relationship with Jasmine. She was seen having a public shouting match with her. And a month later, Jasmine was murdered. It sounds like your wife has everything to do with this.”

  “No, you’ve got that all wrong. Barb came to a show and talked to Jasmine. She told her what she thought of her. That’s all it was.”

  “All it was . . . that time. But maybe she came back again,” I said. “Maybe she wasn’t finished letting Jasmine know how angry she was.”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Alan snapped.

  His hands curled into fists at his sides. I noted the small movement but refused to retreat. Alan was tall enough to tower over me, but I didn’t care. I was done being pushed around.

  “Then why don’t you tell me the truth,” I said.

  “Yes, there was an unfortunate blowup between the two of them. But other than that, Barb didn’t feel the need to vent her anger on Jasmine. She was too busy taking it out on me.”

  Chapter 18

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “What did she do?”

  “Barb and I are getting divorced. She hired a shark of a lawyer the day after she talked to Jasmine. Barb is suing me for everything I have.” Alan made a sweeping gesture with his hand that encompassed everything in his booth. “I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t cost me my business.”

  I tried to feel sorry for him and failed utterly. “I guess it never occurred to you that there might be ramifications.”

  “Barb never came to the dog shows. Ever. As far as she was concerned, they were just my place of business. She had no interest in anything that happened on the show circuit.”

  That was his excuse?

  “And Jasmine . . . she could be magical.” Alan was gazing in my direction, but I could tell that his thoughts had turned inward. For a moment, he looked truly smitten. “She had a way of making every rational thought fly right out of my head.”

  Jasmine was magical all right, I thought. As long as you were proving useful to her.