Hair of the Dog

by Laurien Berenson

  “Sit still.” Terry slapped my hand away. “Or you’ll end up looking like one of Bitsy Farnsworth’s Shih Tzus.”

  Bitsy Farnsworth was an owner-handler, and not a very talented one at that. Dogs she’d groomed tended to look like they had recently passed through a wind tunnel. I took the threat seriously and settled back in my chair.

  If not Viv, then who? What other woman could have been responsible for Leo’s move? What other women were there?

  There was Beth certainly, Barry’s assistant. Had Ron been dissatisfied with the way she’d cared for the dog? If so, a few pointed comments to Barry should have been sufficient to clear up that problem.

  What about Alicia? She was there too, although not in any capacity that would have given her much contact with Leo. As Terry happily spritzed and snipped, I mulled that over. It wasn’t until I stopped focusing on the dog and started focusing on the people that I remembered what Ann Leeds had said about Alicia buttering up potential clients.

  And about the fact that Alicia wasn’t friends with many of the wives.

  Alicia, who was now pregnant with a baby she claimed belonged to neither Barry nor her ex-husband. Just how well had Alicia gotten along with Barry’s biggest client?

  “Alicia,” I said aloud. “Alicia and Ron.”

  Terry smiled, wielding his scissors like a pro. “I didn’t say it.”

  “Is it true?”

  He glanced toward the kitchen door, and I knew what he was thinking. Crawford wouldn’t be happy if he thought Terry was blabbing his clients’ secrets. Besides, he’d already said enough.

  I lifted a hand. “How’s it coming?”

  “Almost done.”

  Only a moment passed before Terry put down his scissors. He pulled back, studying me critically. I was pleased to note that for all the snipping I’d heard, there didn’t seem to be that much hair on the floor around me.

  He stared for so long that I began to get nervous. “How does it look?”

  “Fabulous! It’s like magic. Your eyes look huge. Have you ever thought about lining your lids with brown eye shadow?”

  “Yeah, right.” I was busy fishing through my purse. There was a small mirror in my compact.

  “No, really. Come.” Terry pulled off the sheet and set it aside, then led me to a powder room in the hallway off the kitchen. He reached out and flipped on the light. “Look.”

  He seemed so pleased that for a moment I was almost afraid to. I glanced up, down, anywhere but directly at the mirror.

  “Would you look?” Terry cried.

  So I did.

  “Wow,” I said softly.

  He hadn’t done a lot, just added some layers around my face and a sweep of bangs that did, somehow, seem to highlight my eyes. My hair was shorter than it had been, but it wasn’t short. I turned to the left, then the right. It swung when I moved, then settled back into place.

  Terry stood behind me, grinning like a kid on Christmas. “Am I good, or what?”

  “You’re great,” I assured him. “And totally wasted on dogs.”

  “Of course.” He preened happily. “What can I say? Life threw me a curve. I found it was more important to be where Crawford was.”

  “It was important for him too.” I took Terry’s hand, suddenly serious. “There’s been such a difference in Crawford. Last winter, people were wondering if he might retire. Now he’s on top again. He seems ... just happier, I guess.”

  Terry looked pleased. “Crawford thought he was getting old. Hopefully, I’ve shown him he was wrong.”

  I stood up on my toes and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “You did a great job.”

  A throat cleared softly behind me. “I’d be surprised to think that I might be interrupting something,” said Crawford. “But on the off chance, would you two like some privacy?”

  “No.” The thought made me giggle. “I was just leaving.”

  “I see he didn’t scalp you.”

  “No, he did a terrific job.”

  “That’s what I just heard you say.”

  Terry and I shared a smile.

  “Don’t praise him too much,” said Crawford. “I wouldn’t want it to go to his head.”

  I pulled out my wallet. “What do I owe you?”

  “I’m shocked!” cried Terry. “Shocked! To think that you’d give money to an artiste!”

  I dug out a couple of bills. “You have to take it. Otherwise, I’ll never be able to come back and ask you to do it again.”

  “Oh.” Terry snatched the money and stuffed it in his pocket. “Since you put it that way, okay.”

  I turned to Crawford. “And while we’re on the subject of money ...”

  He frowned, guessing what was coming. “One last question. That’s it.”

  One was better than nothing. “Alicia says that Ron still owes Barry money. You say you wouldn’t have taken him on as a client if the bill weren’t paid. Who’s right?”

  “Could be we’re both right.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “It depends on how you look at things. Leo wasn’t the only dog that Barry showed for Ron. The Pullmans bred plenty of good Chows. They probably finished several dozen over the years. With those kinds of numbers, it’s not like Ron made it to every show to see every single dog go in the ring.”

  Terry nodded as though he’d figured out where Crawford was going. I still hadn’t a clue. “So?”

  “Let’s just say Barry Turk wasn’t above cutting a few corners. Suppose a dog goes out with a handler to get its championship. Six months later, it’s finished and home. The owners paid bills for thirty or forty shows. Who’s to say whether or not the dog actually went in the ring that many times?”

  Crawford headed for the door. I followed along behind. “You mean Barry was billing Ron for shows he never went to?”

  “Oh, I’m sure Barry went to the shows. But sometimes things happen. Maybe a handler’s running late, or there’s a scheduling conflict—a handler has two dogs that have to be in different rings at the same time. It’s not unheard of for a dog to be entered, go to a show, and never make it out of its crate.”

  “How did Ron find out what was going on?”

  “I don’t know all the particular,” said Crawford. “I imagine he showed up somewhere that Barry wasn’t expecting him. Or maybe he checked his receipts against the show results in the Gazette. Anyway, he contested several bills, and I couldn’t say as I blamed him. Barry, of course, denied everything.”

  “Was there a lot of money involved?”

  “Not enough to be worth killing over, if that’s what you’re thinking. Disputes like this aren’t uncommon. They usually get worked out with an adjustment on the next couple of bills. Nobody would have known a thing about it if the Pullmans hadn’t decided to move Leo and Barry hadn’t raised a fuss. End of story. Okay?”

  Considering I’d been allotted one question, I figured I’d done pretty well. I thanked Crawford for the information and Terry for the haircut, and left.

  Faith and her new friends had all run themselves into a state of happy exhaustion. My Poodle was lying down in the shade when I came out, but she jumped up as soon as she saw me. I let her out of the paddock and put her in the car.

  We picked up Davey at camp and I spent the rest of the afternoon waiting for him to notice my new haircut. No dice. Try putting a pear instead of an apple into his lunch box and he’ll talk about it for weeks.

  Finally, over a dinner of shish kebabs that we’d grilled out back, I said, “Does anything look different about me?”

  Davey took so long considering his answer, Faith got up from her spot beside the table to see what he was staring at. Then she barked. I was betting she knew.

  Not my son. “No,” he said, and went back to building a mountain of rice with his fork.

  I gave up.

  The next morning I called Winmore Kennels and Beth picked up. Yes, Alicia was still there, Beth told me. She was busy packing up all her stuff. Woul
d I like to talk to her?

  I said no thanks and went out and got in the car. Lately it seemed as though I was spending all my spare time on the road. But what I had to ask Alicia was important, and I’d just as soon see her face when she answered.

  In the month since my last visit, fortunes at Winmore had declined visibly. Whereas once the kennel had seemed much too small for the number of dogs it housed, now more runs were empty than full. The impatiens that had brightened the yard were wilting, unwatered, in the August sun. Though Alicia was still in residence, her heart had already moved on.

  When I arrived, she was just coming out the front door carrying a large, unwieldy box. Carefully she maneuvered her way down the front steps. I parked the Volvo behind a half-filled Ford Explorer and hurried over to help.

  “Here, let me take that.”

  Alicia gave up the box with a murmur. It fell into my arms, and was considerably heavier than it looked. No wonder her face was so red. I shoved it inside the Explorer’s open back door. Alicia was already heading back into the house. She hadn’t looked surprised to see me. I imagined Beth must have told her I was coming.

  “Your hair looks good,” she said.

  “Thanks, Terry did it.”

  Alicia nodded. “He did me a couple of months ago. Back when I was first pregnant and had morning sickness like crazy. I think he was trying to cheer me up.”

  I followed her up the front steps. “Are you sure you ought to be working like this?”

  At four months, Alicia was now visibly pregnant. Not only had her torso thickened, but her arms and legs seemed plumper too. Even her face had taken on a smooth, rounded quality. The only thing that was missing was a beatific maternal glow. Alicia Devane was scowling mightily and sweating like a football player.

  “Do I have a choice?” she asked. “The stuff’s got to get moved.”

  “Where’s Bill?”

  “He had some work to do. He lent me his car.” She nodded toward the Explorer. “He’ll help me unload at the other end.”

  “How about taking a break?”

  She thought for a moment, then nodded. “I guess I could use one. You want some lemonade?”

  “Sounds great.”

  In the kitchen, she poured two tall glasses. I sat down at the table, but Alicia continued to work as she drank, taking china out of the cupboard, wrapping it in newspaper, and putting it in a box on the floor.

  Though the back door was open, the air in the room was hot and still. A small fan on the counter seemed to be turning at half speed. If it was cooling things off any, I couldn’t feel the difference.

  “Maybe you could hire movers to do that,” I suggested.

  “No money.”

  “Bill?”

  “I left on my own.” Her expression tightened. “I’ll return the same way.”

  I took a sip of lemonade. It was good: homemade, and just tart enough to be really refreshing. “We need to talk.”

  Alicia turned and looked at me. “That sounds serious.” When I didn’t answer, she walked over, pulled out a chair, and sat down. “What have you found out about Barry now?”

  “Actually this was more about you.”

  “Oh?”

  “And Ron Pullman.”

  “I see.” Alicia reached for her lemonade and took a long drink.

  “Is Ron your baby’s father, Alicia?”

  “Since you’re here, I imagine you already know the answer to that.”

  “When did the affair start?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Not really. When did it end?”

  Alicia lifted a brow. “Who says it has?”

  I choked on a sip of lemonade. “You mean you’re still sleeping with him?”

  “Actually, no. Not since spring.” Alicia gave a soft laugh, though she didn’t sound amused. “I just didn’t want you to think you knew everything.”

  “There’s plenty I don’t know.”

  “Like who fired the shots that killed Barry.”

  “For starters. And about Leo.”

  “The Chow? He’s a dog. What else is there to know?”

  “He was Barry’s specials dog. What happened?”

  “Viv Pullman happened,” Alicia snorted. “That’s what.”

  “She found out about you and Ron?”

  “No.” Alicia shook her head. “She couldn’t have. We were very careful about that.”

  “Viv told me that she was the one who made the decision to move Leo over to Crawford.” I was thinking aloud now, trying to make the pieces fall into place. “Why did she do that if she didn’t know about what was going on?”

  “Maybe she had her suspicions. More likely, she was just playing it safe. She and Ron have been married what, two, three years? I guess the honeymoon was ending. Ron’s like a big old tomcat, he always has his eye out. Believe me, if he were my husband, I’d worry too. He was married to Mona when he met Viv, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t know.”

  “Well, he was. But that didn’t stop him from falling for Viv. She was smart, though. Don’t ever let yourself be fooled by that sweet southern drawl. Viv’s no Daisy Mae. She knew a good thing when she saw it. Ron’s got looks, money, connections ...”

  Presumably all the things that had also attracted Alicia, if the expression on her face was anything to go by.

  “Viv made sure he knew she was interested and then she held out for marriage. In the end, she got just what she wanted. Viv may be in love with Ron, but I doubt that means she trusts him. Let’s face it, if he were the faithful type, he’d still be with Mona, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Like I said, Viv’s smart. Once she got hold of Ron, she wasn’t about to lose him. She sent Leo over to Crawford’s because she knew perfectly well that nobody over there was going to tempt him.

  “And Ron’s no dummy either. When she told him she wanted the dog moved, he read between those lines pretty damn quick. He had to make a choice, and he did.”

  “Even though you were carrying his baby.”

  “Neither of us knew that at the time. I doubt that it would have made a difference if we had. Ron’s in love with Viv. He may stray a little, but that’s all there is to it.”

  Maybe it was point of view, maybe it was semantics, but my idea of being in love had nothing to do with having affairs on the side.

  “Besides,” said Alicia. “It’s not as if Viv would let him go without a fight. She worked long and hard to become Mrs. Ron Pullman, and you better believe she intends to stay that way.”

  “When did you tell Ron that the baby was his?” I asked.

  “After Barry died. I figured he had a right to know.”

  Amazing, wasn’t it, the way Ron’s right to know had neatly coincided with Alicia’s loss of support? “What did he say?”

  “At first he denied being the baby’s father. Then he offered me money for an abortion.” Alicia’s finger traced idle patterns in the condensation on the outside of her lemonade glass. “Not that I would have done it, but it was too late anyway.”

  “What about after the baby is born?”

  “I’ll be with Bill then. Everything will be fine.”

  Ah, yes, Bill. Another spurned lover. I like to think of myself as a liberal person, but compared to Alicia, I was beginning to feel positively old-fashioned.

  “And Bill’s okay with all of this?”

  “Of course,” said Alicia. “I told you that.”

  “What you told me was he doesn’t mind being a father to someone else’s baby. Are you sure he doesn’t mind that you don’t love him?”

  “What makes you so sure I don’t?”

  “Call it a good guess.”

  “Then you’re a better guesser than Bill is,” said Alicia. “Like most men, he hears only what he wants to hear. I told him that my leaving was a huge mistake. I apologized, okay? But I certainly didn’t have to grovel.”

  I stared at her in disbelief, wondering if she had any idea how call
ous and self-serving she sounded. All at once it occurred to me that Bill wasn’t the only one whom Alicia had fooled. I’d thought she’d made her choices based on a desire to do what was best for her baby. Now I realized that the baby was only a side issue. Alicia was looking to do what was best for Alicia.

  “Look,” she said. “I appreciate the fact that you tried, but maybe asking you to help wasn’t such a good idea. Back then, I thought I needed to know who killed Barry. But now...” She did her best to look both sad and brave. “Now I think it’s best if I just put the whole thing behind me. I have to move on.”

  Figuratively and literally, I thought as Alicia went back to her packing. “It seems to me that you were happy to have me asking questions until I started asking about you.”

  “Don’t be absurd.” She turned and stared. “Life goes on, okay? All I’m doing is going with it. The police will track Barry’s murderer down. That’s what they’re paid for.”

  And if they didn’t succeed, it wouldn’t matter, because now Alicia had Bill to take care of her. A month earlier she’d been floundering, but now the situation had changed. Alicia had found a new means of support, and the last thing she wanted was me asking questions that might hit too close to home and muck things up for her.

  I stood up, carried my lemonade glass over to the sink, and poured what was left down the drain. Then I walked out the door without looking back.

  When I got home, I called Aunt Peg and told her about everything that had happened, including the fact that I was no longer searching for Barry’s killer.

  “But you can’t stop now!” she wailed. “We still don’t know who did it.”

  “Alicia seems to think that the police will figure it out.”

  “Do the police know about Ralphie Otterbach and Ann Leeds?” she demanded. “Have they figured out who the father of Alicia’s baby is?”

  “I don’t know.” The back half of Faith was standing beside my chair. The front was in my lap. I slid my fingers under her wraps and scratched her ears. “Why don’t you call them up and ask them?”

  “Don’t be fresh,” said Peg. “I’m thinking.”

  That was not necessarily a good sign.