Raining Cats & Dogs (A Melanie Travis Mystery)

by Laurien Berenson

  “Good idea.”

  We heeled another circuit of the ring, going faster, then slower, then back to normal speed in response to Steve’s commands. “About turn!” he announced after another round.

  Now Julie was behind me, but I could still see her and Jack in the mirrors that lined one wall of the room. They were doing a great job. The Doberman was focused on his handler to the exclusion of everything else.

  Faith and I were novices at the exercise, we were still using a leash. Julie had removed Jack’s lead before the exercise began, but you never would have known it to look at them. The Doberman was glued to her side; the two of them were moving as one.

  I’m not the only one with skeletons in my closet, Minnie had said. Talk to Julie. No time like the present, I decided.

  Steve finally called the exercise to a halt, and we all fell out of formation. Many of the handlers were breathing hard. A few of the dogs were panting. Julie had barely broken a sweat, however, and Jack looked as though he could have gone on all night. I let Faith relax, spooling out her leash as I sidled over closer to Julie.

  “So what was Steve getting on Stacey’s case about?”

  “You know.” She shrugged. “The usual.”

  “The usual?”

  “Oh, that’s right, I forgot. You’re new. Steve hates it when Stacey talks baby talk to Bubbles and treats her as though she’s a child rather than an animal. Actually, I think he hates the fact that he even has a dog named Bubbles in his class.”

  Julie and I shared a complicit grin.

  “Papillons are smart little dogs, one of those ‘big dog in a small package’ breeds. But Stacey’s always coddling Bubbles—slipping her treats, or picking her up and carrying her everywhere. She doesn’t give her a chance to think for herself. And Bubbles is no fool. She’s learned that if she acts whiny and helpless, Stacey will respond by giving her even more attention.”

  Not an unusual problem with little dogs. Toy Poodles were just as smart and capable as their bigger cousins, but it was amazing how many were spoiled by improper handling.

  “Does it do any good when Steve yells at her?”

  “Not much,” Julie admitted. “Stacey’s pretty set in her ways. Besides, she’s not really a serious competitor. She signed up to take this class for fun. So if Bubbles never gets past her C.D., I don’t think Stacey will be terribly disappointed.”

  “You seem to know a lot about most of the people here,” I said.

  “It happens. Most of us have been training together for a long time. Some people you become friends with, some you don’t. But either way, you end up finding out all sorts of things about one another.”

  “Like what?”

  Julie gave me a measuring look. “Why do I suspect that question isn’t nearly as casual as it sounds?”

  I laughed in spite of myself. “Maybe because at this time last week Steve was announcing that I was an amateur detective?”

  “That must be it. Welcome to the South Avenue Obedience Club. Nobody has any secrets around here.”

  “That’s not what I heard.”

  “May I ask who from?”

  “You can ask,” I said. “I’m not going to answer.”

  “So you’re discreet. I suppose I should take that as a good sign. Isn’t it about time for you to tell me that anything I say to you will be held in strictest confidence?”

  “Not necessarily,” I said. “It depends on what you tell me.”

  “And if I choose to say nothing at all?”

  I looked at her and shrugged. What did she expect? That I’d pull out dental tools and rubber hoses?

  “Then we’re done,” I said.

  “You got that right,” Julie replied. She flipped a curt hand signal to Jack and the two of them walked away.

  19

  We practiced the recall next, and Steve turned the exercise into a game. We began by lining up, side by side, on the mat that ran down the length of the room. Our dogs were seated beside us, facing forward. On Steve’s command, we told our dogs to stay, and left them, walking straight across to stand facing them on the opposite mat.

  There were twelve of us in the class. Steve divided the group down the middle into two teams of six and announced that the recall would be held as a relay race.

  “When I give the signal,” he said, “I want the two of you at the opposite ends to call your dogs. As soon as they’ve come and are sitting in front of you, the person next to you can call his or her dog. And so on, until we reach the middle of the room. Whichever team succeeds in bringing all their dogs to the other side of the room first is the winner.”

  Having been told only to prepare for the recall, most of us had lined up randomly. Now we all looked around to see who else was on our team. Julie and Jack, probably the strongest pair, were at the other end of the room from Faith and me. On the other hand, that team would be slowed down by the inclusion of Kelly and Boss, who often had trouble keeping their minds on business.

  Minnie and Coach were standing next to me, which was good. Like Julie and Jack, they’d be tough to beat. All in all, the two teams looked pretty even. I could only hope that Faith, easily the least seasoned of the participants, wouldn’t get distracted and turn in a poor performance.

  “Trust Steve to take something simple like a recall and use it to pit us against one another,” Minnie muttered.

  “I think it sounds like fun,” Stacey said from her other side. “Bubbles may be small, but she’s fast.” She looked down the line and counted. Her Papillon would be crossing the room at the same time as Mark Terry’s Reggie. “Faster than a Cairn, at any rate. We’ll beat them easy.”

  “We shouldn’t have to beat anybody,” said Minnie. “The recall is an exercise in obedience, not a race. At a trial, it doesn’t matter how quickly the dog comes in as long as he keeps coming.”

  “Comments, Minerva?” Steve placed his hands on his hips and stared. “Maybe something you’d like to share with the rest of the class?”

  “Not in this lifetime,” Minnie replied.

  “Because you and Coach can feel free to sit this one out if you’d rather not participate.”

  “Of course,” Paul pointed out, leaning forward to address the line, “that would leave us with an odd number, so someone else would have to sit out, too.”

  “We’ll do our part,” Minnie said shortly.

  “See that you do,” Steve replied. “You wouldn’t want to let your team down. Everyone else, no cheating, no anticipating. Wait until the dog beside you has its fanny on the floor before calling your own. Make it a fair fight.”

  He looked around and lifted an arm in the air. “Everyone ready? Go!”

  Faith and I were third in line to perform. When our turn came, the two teams were still evenly matched. Seeing the dog beside her leap up and run back to its owner, I’d been afraid Faith would break her stay and blow the whole thing. But although the Poodle sent me a searching look from across the room, she held her ground.

  As soon as the Cocker belonging to the handler beside me sat down, I called Faith in. She jumped up with apparent relief and came galloping toward me. She was seated in front of me before Paul’s Corgi on the opposing team was even halfway home.

  “Good job,” Minnie said under her breath. She whipped Coach to her with a strong hand signal. “We’ve got them on the run now.”

  As it turned out, we did. Our team didn’t win by much, a length or two at most, but it was enough to secure bragging rights.

  “What do we get for winning?” Stacey asked, as we cheered to celebrate the victory.

  Steve grinned. “How about a break? Well done, everyone. Take ten minutes. Have a smoke, get your dogs something to drink, and then we’ll start up again.”

  The group disbanded. Most of us walked to the chairs near the door where we’d left our things. After the excitement of the race, Faith was happy to lap up a bowl of ice water and flop down on the floor for a rest. I was about to sit down beside her when Mark a
nd Reggie came walking over.

  The little Cairn was wearing his leash and collar. He was also carrying a loop of the lead jauntily in his mouth. It didn’t look as though the race had tired him out at all.

  “So,” Mark said, pressing up next to me. “How are things coming?”

  “Just fine,” I replied. “You?”

  “No, I mean how…are…things…coming?”

  Even with the added emphasis, the question didn’t sound dramatically different to me than it had a moment earlier. I looked at him and shrugged.

  “You know,” he lowered his voice to a confidential tone, “with the investigation.”

  Oh. Those things.

  “That seems to be the question of the evening,” I said. Too bad I didn’t have any really satisfactory answers.

  “Have you found the murderer yet?”

  “No. If I had, I’d have taken the information to the police, and you would have been able to read about it in the paper.” I smiled to soften the impact of my words, but come on. Did he actually think I might have figured out who had killed Mary and was keeping the news to myself?

  “Good,” Mark said.

  “Good?” I took a step back to give myself some space. “What’s good about that?”

  “Because I was thinking maybe I could help you.” He stepped into the small space I’d put between us. If Mark were any closer, he would have been in my pocket.

  “Help me how?”

  “You know. Investigate. I think I’d be pretty good at it.”

  I tried taking another step back. Thankfully, this time when the space opened up, Reggie moved to stand between us. The Cairn and my Poodle touched noses.

  “All I’ve been doing is asking a few people questions. I’m not part of the investigation; I don’t have an official standing. There’s nothing stopping you from doing the same thing. In fact, the more people who ask questions, the sooner someone might come up with some answers.”

  “So, like, you could take me on as your assistant?”

  I sighed softly. Clearly, I wasn’t getting my point across. “I don’t need an assistant. And you certainly don’t need me for a boss. What I’m doing isn’t rocket science. It’s just…well…looking around and gathering information.”

  “Precisely.” Mark looked pleased. “That’s what I was thinking I might help you with.”

  “Feel free. Have at it. Go to town.”

  “You mean on my own?”

  As opposed to being attached to my hip? Definitely, yes, I thought.

  “I have to tell you something,” Mark whispered, leaning close to my ear as if we were coconspirators. “I already have.”

  It was one of those moments when I knew I should just walk away. Why even prolong a conversation that is undoubtedly heading places you have no desire to go? Whatever Mark was up to, I had no need to be a part of it. Good in theory, right?

  But I had to admit, he’d made me curious.

  “You’ve done what exactly?” I asked.

  “Started investigating. It’s really kind of cool, isn’t it? Just like that stuff you see on TV.”

  Actually, no, I thought. My life didn’t at all resemble the crime shows I’d seen on television, and if I was lucky, things would remain that way.

  “Where did you start?”

  It was such a simple question. Basic, even. But the response it produced was anything but. Mark grinned happily; his eyes lit up with enthusiasm. He shoved Reggie’s leash into my hands.

  “Hold this,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

  He strode over to a jacket that was lying on one of the chairs and pulled a sheet of paper out of a pocket. He unfolded the paper and handed it to me. “I made a timeline. You know, a schedule of where everybody was that day at Winston Pumpernill.”

  “Good idea.” It was more than I had done.

  Mark looked warily around the room. He positioned his body in such a way as to block others from seeing what we were up to. Not that it mattered, nobody else showed even the slightest interest in what we were doing.

  I scanned the page quickly. Mark had listed the names of all the class members who’d visited the nursing facility that afternoon. Beside each name he’d written a description of their whereabouts during our time there.

  Faith’s and my entry read:

  arrived on time, inside with group. interacted with various patients, including ML. never left sunroom?

  It was accurate up to a point, though I did wonder about the question mark at the end. Did Mark know where Faith and I had been for a fact, or was he just guessing?

  I looked at another entry. This one was for Minnie and Coach. Theirs read:

  one of the first to arrive. went inside briefly then came out to rejoin group. bathroom break? entertained the troops.

  Again, there seemed to be some holes that needed filling. Had Minnie and Coach remained in the sunroom for the duration of the visit, or hadn’t they? The one unusual move Mark had reported, “went inside briefly then came out,” had taken place while Mary was still alive—indeed, before I’d even met her—so it was hard to judge its significance.

  “Pretty good, huh?” Mark was leaning down to read over my shoulder.

  “Um, sure. Although a little more detail might be helpful.”

  He looked up. “Like what?”

  “It would be better if you knew everyone’s whereabouts for the specific time period after Mary Livingston left the sunroom and went to her room to lie down.”

  “How do you expect me to know that?”

  “I don’t.” I’d been there, too, and I hadn’t been keeping tabs on everyone’s movements. Nobody had; that was the problem. “I’m just saying it would be useful to know, that’s all.”

  “Okay,” he said, enthusiasm undimmed, “how about this one?” He pointed to the entry for Stacey and Bubbles. “Read this and see what you think.”

  entered home with group. went straight to ML and friends upon entering sunroom. suspicious? chatted up others. stepped out of room at least once while talking on cell phone. didn’t see in room during Coach-arama. not there or just short? left with others.

  “Interesting,” I said. “Why do you think it’s suspicious that Stacey spoke with Mary and her friends first?”

  Mark stared at me as if the answer were obvious. “Because Mary’s the one who ended up dead. So doesn’t that make you wonder why Stacey was so anxious to speak with her?”

  “Maybe she wasn’t,” I said. “Remember, Mary, Borden, and Madeline were sitting very near the front of the room. It made sense that the first person through the door would have gone to them, especially as they’d all met during earlier visits, and Mary was known to enjoy interacting with the dogs.”

  “I guess,” Mark admitted.

  “Now this part”—I pointed at the page—“does make me wonder. ‘Didn’t see in room during Coach-arama…’ By the way, Coach-arama?”

  “You know.” He flashed a guilty smile. “The performance by our resident diva. I suppose I could have called it ‘The Minerva Show,’ but that might have been cruel.”

  And the alternative wasn’t?

  “Were Stacey and Bubbles out of the room during that time, or do you think you just didn’t happen to notice them?”

  “Unfortunately, I’m not sure. Stacey had already left the room once earlier. Maybe she stepped out again, because I don’t remember seeing her there. But it’s not like those two would stand out in a crowd.”

  No, they wouldn’t, I thought. Stacey was small and so was her dog. I could see how the two of them might have escaped notice even if they’d been standing right there.

  “I’ll tell you who wasn’t in the room, though,” Mark said.

  “Who?”

  “Steve.”

  I looked at him with interest. “How do you know that?”

  “Because when Minnie started performing, I fully expected him to stop her. You know how the two of them act around one another.”

  I nodded. />
  “It’s like he does his best to annoy her, and she reciprocates in kind. So considering how much Minnie likes to be the center of attention, I just assumed he’d step in and put a stop to the proceedings. When he didn’t, I looked around to see why not.”

  “And he wasn’t there?”

  “Not anywhere. Because I checked.”

  I thought back, sorting through my memory of that afternoon. Kelly had been out of the room around that time as I recalled. When she’d returned, I’d noticed that Boss wasn’t with her. Instead, he’d been standing by the back of the room with Steve.

  “Did you look over by the windows?” I asked. “Because I saw him standing there with Boss.”

  “That was later,” Mark said firmly. “By then, Minnie and Coach were just about finished. By the way, those may look like windows along that side of the room, but they’re actually French doors. When the weather’s nice, the staff leaves them open so a breeze can blow through.”

  Well that put an entirely new wrinkle on things, didn’t it?

  Until that moment, I hadn’t realized that the room had another entrance and exit, much less one so readily accessible. Steve wouldn’t have had to go in and out of the sunroom through the main door. He easily could have slipped out and slipped back a few minutes later undetected. And Steve wasn’t the only one. Potentially, anyone else in the class could have done the same thing.

  Mark watched the play of emotions across my face. “I came up with something important, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “I knew it!” he exulted. After a moment, he added, “If you don’t mind my asking, what was it?”

  “Doors.”

  “What about them?”

  “Access,” I said, handing back the sheet of paper. “And who had it.”

  “Excellent. So do you know who did it now?”

  “No.”

  “You’re closer though?”

  “Maybe.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but he looked so hopeful I hated to disappoint him.