by Judi McCoy
“I think so, too.” She pulled him to her chest and gave him a loving squeeze. “You’re the best, big guy.”
“So are you, Triple E. Just promise me one thing.”
“And what might that be?”
“No more hunting for killers. It’s too freakin’ dangerous.”
“I highly doubt we’ll have the need to play detective again.”
“Good, because this last fiasco scared the crap outta me.”
“Oh, really? And here I thought you were the dog who could take on the world.”
“Hah! I wasn’t frightened for me. When I heard Veridot was holding a gun on you, I thought I was gonna die, too. In fact, I wanted to.” He nudged her cheek with his nose, then gave her a sloppy lick. “I couldn’t live without you, Ellie. Even staying with Vivian and T wouldn’t take away my sorrow.”
That comment caused Ellie’s throat to close up and brought tears to her eyes. “Same here, little buddy. Same here.” Drawing him near, she gave him another squeeze. “We’re a matched set, and no one will ever separate us again.”
Read on for a preview of Judi McCoy’s
next Dog Walker mystery
DEATH IN SHOW
Coming from Obsidian in June 2010
Ellie pulled the lapels of her black wool blazer close as she crossed West End Avenue and headed for the Javits Convention Center. This was the best place for a dog lover to be on a cold November day, she told herself as she passed people leading canines of all shapes and sizes into the center. Though she’d sat in the viewing area of the Westminster Kennel Club show many times, this was her first visit to the Mid-Atlantic Canine Challenge.
And she was attending as a special guest, which allowed her backstage for the most exciting part of the competition. Flora Steinman, the owner of Lulu, a Havanese Ellie walked twice a day, had requested she be here to offer moral support for both her and her dog. In fact, since the petite pooch had come to her home to share a playdate with her own dog, Rudy, Ellie put Lulu on a par with Mr. T, her best friend’s Jack Russell, and considered the Havanese a full-fledged member of her family.
She entered the crowded conference center and headed for the jammed escalator with a full heart. She was more than happy to spend today and tomorrow at the second-most prestigious of all dog shows. If Lulu won the MACC, she would be well on her way to Westminster in February. And even if she only got as far as Best in Breed or Best in Group, she would still be in a good position to take the big prize at Madison Square Garden.
Juggling her schedule had been daunting. Since losing Hilary Blankenship as her assistant a couple of months ago, Ellie had hired and fired several others. But just last week she’d found someone who might actually work out: a Columbia University student named Joy. The girl’s usual chore was simple: walk five dogs in Paws in Motion’s farthest north building for the next two days. But because of Ellie’s commitment here, Joy now had to walk thirty dogs, some twice a day, in four different buildings. Definitely not an easy task.
It had been even more difficult explaining the rearranged schedule to her charges. Canines thrived on routine and weren’t happy when their regular walk time changed. She’d promised special treats for the rest of the week if they agreed to the time adjustment, which they did, and she told herself again that her dogs were worth every extra penny.
Continuing her upward ride, she recalled the info Flora had given her on the ins and outs of the dog-show world. First and foremost, competition was fierce and beset by politics. Over the course of a competitive year, judges came to know each handler as well as the owners and their dogs, which brought friendship and a canine’s reputation to every event. Right now the gossips predicted that tiny fur ball Lulu would handily take Best in Breed and go on to win Best in Group, but anything could happen to change that belief.
Ellie still wasn’t sure of the reason the Havanese had amassed so many championships, but it was clear that Flora had taken a different route on the road to Lulu’s success. Many canines were owned by multimember partnerships that had the dogs live with their handlers. Even the professor, Ellie’s first client, had sent Buddy to his handler several weeks prior to a major outing in order to ensure the pair would appear as a single unit at the competition.
Instead, Lulu spent her life with Flora, who brought the dog to each conformation showing in which it was entered two days ahead of time. Arnie Harris then worked with Lulu long enough for them to compete as a synchronized team. The unusual practice had made getting here expensive and arduous for a woman in her seven-ties, but Flora had been adamant. Lulu would live with no one but her until forty-eight hours before a show.
Ellie still wasn’t sure if the Havanese owed her success to continuous coddling or her stellar pedigree, but it didn’t matter. Lulu had amassed enough points to be allowed entry here, and since today was one of the little dog’s biggest appearances, she couldn’t say no when Flora asked her, Lulu’s secondary caregiver, to share the momentous experience.
She was determined to give Flora and Lulu the support they needed, and looked upon her attendance more like a mini-vacation, with the right to be near some of the most well-known and prestigious purebreds in the country.
After stepping off the escalator, Ellie flashed a guard her pass and received directions to the backstage area, where the contestants waited for their event. It was there the dogs in the morning rounds were made ready to compete. Inside the packed holding zone, filled with owners, groomers, handlers, hundreds of canines, show sponsors, and a variety of news reporters, she realized it was the most exhilarating place she’d ever been that had to do with her favorite four-legged friends.
Sidling past Malteses, Chihuahuas, Yorkies, and dozens of other miniature breeds, she took note of one oddity. The area was filled with the racket of human chatter, snipping scissors, and busy blow-dryers, but not a single sound came from the canines. At the very least, she’d expected to hear some of their excitement, but nothing penetrated her brain. These had to be the most focused hounds in the world.
Ellie almost sighed in ecstasy. She’d never been this close to so much pooch perfection. Rudy was a pound puppy, which was fine with her, but she’d never seen so many dogs of this caliber up close and personal. Nor had she ever spoken to a professional judge or handler, and she was looking forward to doing both.
Fighting her way through the crowd, she kept her tote bag under her arm and her eyes peeled for a sign that marked the holding area for the Havaneses. After several minutes of swimming through a mass of bodies, she decided this event was a pickpocket’s dream. People had to walk sideways to get through the throng, brushing against one another like lovers sharing a group dance. If Lulu won today, Ellie planned to tuck her keys in an inside pocket and stuff cash in her bra for tomorrow’s more important competition, instead of carrying her jumbo bag.
Rising on tiptoe, she saw Flora speaking to a man she thought might be Arnie, and headed in their direction.
“My darling girl, you made it,” said the older woman when Ellie reached her. Dressed in a lilac-colored suit and matching pumps, Mrs. Steinman wore a double strand of pearls Ellie guessed cost more than her yearly income.
“I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”
“Good, good. And here’s someone you should meet.” Flora smiled at her companion, a tall, burly man of about fifty wearing navy blue Armani. “This is Edward Nelson. He used to be Lulu’s handler.”
Used to be? Ellie held out her hand and she and Edward shook. “Hello. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Same here. Flora tells me we have something in common,” Edward said in a deep voice thick with a New York accent. “I walk dogs too, some in the very building where Lulu, Flora, and I live.”
Flora had fired Mr. Nelson, and he lived in the Beaumont? She raised a brow at Lulu. Ensconced on a pillow, the snobby Havanese pointed her muzzle in the air.
“Not my idea,” the Havanese announced. “Firing him was Flora’s idea, but he always wor
e too much aftershave, so I approved. He made me sneeze up a storm.”
Ellie waggled her fingers at Lulu and returned her gaze to the handler. She’d never seen Edward Nelson before, and she thought she knew every dog walker on the Upper East Side. “In the Beaumont? I can’t believe we haven’t met before now.”
“Oh, but I’ve seen you and your charges marching up and down the avenue like a marine platoon. Natter speaks very highly of you,” he said, mentioning the Beaumont’s doorman. “As does Flora.”
She filed the information away, planning to bend Natter’s ear about the handler/dog walker as soon as she saw him again. “We should compare notes sometime.”
“Sounds good,” said Edward, glancing over his shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to find my boy.” A grin that seemed more of a smirk graced his ruddy face. “Flora, nothing against you and Lulu, but I look forward to bringing Fidel to the winner’s circle today. No hard feelings, I hope.”
“Of course not,” Flora chimed as the man shouldered his way through the mob.
“Fidel?” Ellie asked, quirking her lips.
“The other Havanese I told you about, the one that gives Lulu so much competition,” said the older woman. “If Edward hadn’t found a dog in the toy group to handle today, I would have paid him a compensation fee for taking Lulu away. I’d only hired Arnie a few months ago, you see, and most handlers are booked well in advance for a show as prestigious as this one. I wasn’t sure Edward would find another client in this group in such a short amount of time, but he managed, though it did surprise me that he found a second Havanese.”
“Hey, Mrs. Steinman,” a young man dressed in a navy suit and matching tie called as he pushed his way through the crowd. When he neared, Ellie saw that he was accompanied by a twentysomething man wearing the same type of suit and tie in dark brown. The first guy, short and stocky, with a pleasant expression, spoke. “Jim Hiller.” He took Mrs. Steinman’s hand and shook it lightly. “We met at that open show in Connecticut last spring. Are you still using Edward Nelson to handle your prize bitch?”
“Why, no,” Flora answered, not offering Arnie’s name or Ellie’s. She turned her gaze to the other man. “And who is this fine fellow?”
“My pal Josh. I’ve been telling him about Lulu ever since she won Winner’s Bitch at that competition. We heard a rumor about Edward being out of the picture, and hoped you’d ask one of us to show her today. I sent you several e-mails but you never answered them, so I called and left a few phone messages. Guess I should have known you weren’t interested when you didn’t respond.”
“I’m afraid I’m a total novice on a computer, and I’ll have to speak to my housekeeper about those phone messages.”
“Yeah, well, I still want you to know how much I admire your bitch. I don’t have a dog in the toy group and . . .”
Ellie ignored the rest of their conversation, thinking instead of the terminology dog people used. She had a difficult time referring to female dogs as bitches, though it wasn’t a slur but proper canine classification. Still, this kid’s pushy attitude was hard to swallow. She’d been told handlers had a lot of confidence, but as far as she was concerned, his comments were just short of rude.
Flora didn’t seem a bit flustered and spoke politely to the young men. They left a moment later, and she gave a loud harrumph. “Sorry I didn’t introduce you, but those boys are brazen upstarts, too eager to push the pros out of the way. Inexperienced handlers looking to break into the big time often campaign for new customers, but not in such an unprofessional manner.”
Then the older woman’s eyes sparkled, and she nodded toward the crowd. “I think Arnie has arrived, and he’s stopped to greet Edward. That means he’ll be here any moment.” She touched her head of silver hair. “How do I look?”
“Like you own the place,” Ellie assured her.
Flora stopped fussing. “I hope the two of you get along.”
Ellie peered through the crowd. Mrs. Steinman had to have radar or X-ray vision, because it was easy to spot Edward’s tall figure but almost impossible to see who he was talking to. Then a short, dapper man, somewhere between Edward’s age and Flora’s, wearing an impeccable gray suit and matching tie, plowed through the human traffic jam, stopped in front of them, and grasped both of the woman’s hands.
“Flora, my dear. Ready to celebrate Miss Lulu’s big moment?”
“I’m all atwitter, Arnie,” answered Flora, a blush gracing her papery cheeks. “At the very least, my little girl deserves to win Best in Breed, and I’m hoping you’ll make that happen.”
“I deserve Best in Breed no matter who the handler is,” rang a voice in Ellie’s ear.
She turned to Lulu, who watched from her pillowed throne, and sidled backward. “I wouldn’t be so cocky if I were you. Fidel and the other seven Havaneses here have each won major competitions. They have the right to Best in Breed just as much as you do.”
“Hah! I’ve beaten every one of them already. Any judge with a brain will see that I’m the most typey of my breed.”
“Only time will tell, missy.” Ellie noted that Flora Steinman and Arnie were involved in a discussion, and asked Lulu the big question. “So, besides too much aftershave, why did your mistress fire Edward Nelson?”
“You mean you can’t tell?”
“Afraid not,” she said, still staring at the senior couple.
“Ellie, Ellie, Ellie, Rudy is right. You are a babe in the woods when it comes to male-female relationships.”
When Lulu’s explanation sank in, Ellie blinked. “You mean Flora and Arnie are—are—”
“Not yet, but she hopes they will be. The moment she met Arnie it was bye-bye, Edward.”
“Wow,” Ellie muttered. “Who would have thunk it?” Her attention returned to Flora and Arnie, who were now grinning at her as if they had heard both sides of her conversation with the Havanese.
“I assume this is the young woman you’ve been telling me about, my dear,” Arnie said to Flora as he reached to shake Ellie’s hand. “You’re Ellie Engleman, right? Flora’s done nothing but sing your praises from the moment she and I met.”
“Mrs. Steinman is a very kind lady,” said Ellie. “It’s nice meeting you too.”
“I see Flora was right about your ability to communicate with canines. It appeared that you and Lulu were holding quite a discussion a few seconds ago.”
“I know it’s eccentric, but chatting with my charges is a habit I’ve developed over the course of my dog-walking career,” she confessed.
“Good for you,” praised Arnie. “You can never tell how much a dog understands, and Lulu is bright. I’ll bet she’s aware of everything you say to her.”
You don’t know the half of it, Ellie almost blurted, but she knew her unusual ability was inexplicable, even to the most fanatical dog lover. “Please forgive me if I stare like a Chihuahua milling with a pack of St. Ber nards, but this is my first time behind the scenes at any kind of canine competition. I’m still trying to absorb it all.”
“You’ll get the hang of things soon enough. Once that little lady is in the ring, everything will come together like gin and vermouth, a fine cocktail and a fine win for our perfect Havanese.”
“Uh, okay,” she agreed, not certain the analogy fit.
A buzzer sounded and the mob grew quiet. “Attention, group twenty-seven. All Havaneses and their handlers, please report to ring number one.”
Ellie checked her watch. “Oh, my gosh. It’s almost time for the magic moment. We’d better get out there.”
“I am so nervous,” said Flora, stepping in front of Lulu with a brush raised.
“Now, Flora, that’s my job.” Arnie eased the grooming tool from her hand and stuffed it in his pocket, then gazed at Lulu. “How’s my pretty baby today? Ready to wow the judges’ socks off?”
Lulu answered him with a sneeze, and Flora giggled. “Isn’t she something, acting as if this is an everyday occurrence instead of the biggest mome
nt in her competitive career?”
Since Ellie was privy to Lulu’s bossy outbursts and sometimes snotty innuendos, she said nothing. No one would ever believe her if she told them she knew exactly what the Havanese was thinking. Instead, she made an honest observation. “There are only nine dogs in her breed. I’d say she has a good shot at winning.”
“Remember what I told you about the breed. Because they’re one of the newest recognized by the American Kennel Club, there are only about thirty breeders in this country, hence the small number,” offered Flora. “We’ve already met each of the competitors at other venues, and we’ve come in first several times. At each competition, Fidel has been the one who challenged my girl the most.”
“Enough talk, ladies. It’s time we got in line. We’re next on the judging block.” Arnie slipped over his jacket sleeve an armband, covered with a variety of statistics and the number nine on it, and moved it to his upper arm. Then he picked up Lulu and walked through the teeming mass with Flora and Ellie following.