When it came to dogs, Aunt Peg was never wrong.
“How do you know that?” Emily asked.
“Look at them,” Aunt Peg replied, as though the answer was perfectly obvious. Which, to her, it was.
Pansy joined her sisters, and the puppies ran off again. They raced in big, looping circles around the yard. At this distance, I could barely tell the three Dalmatians apart, much less form an opinion about their ancestry.
Aunt Peg hunkered down into a low squat. She clapped her hands loudly. The puppies stopped what they were doing and turned to look at her. When she beckoned with her fingers, they came trotting over. More Aunt Peg magic.
“The one in front is Poppy,” Emily told us. “She’s the bravest, and usually the first to leap into anything new.”
Aunt Peg nodded. Her gaze was still fastened on the puppies. For all I knew, they might be engaged in some kind of subliminal messaging.
“Pansy is next,” Emily continued. “You just met her. She’s the tomboy of the group. Posey is bringing up the rear. She’s a real sweetheart. If you want a dog to cuddle with, Posey is your girl.”
“Posey is your favorite,” Aunt Peg commented.
Emily’s chin lifted. “I like them all. Puppies are like children. You can’t pick a favorite.”
“Really?” Aunt Peg gazed up at Emily as the puppies swarmed around her. Her hands were in constant motion. They slid over the Dals’ bodies. They lifted paws and checked teeth. “I’ve always thought having a favorite was a good thing. Then everybody knows where they stand.”
Go ahead. Ask me if I’m the favorite.
“It’s a good thing you’re not a teacher,” Emily replied. “Favoritism keeps you from addressing each child’s needs equally and individually.”
“I can see why Melanie speaks so highly of your nursery school.” Aunt Peg braced her hands on her thighs and stood. “In that context, I commend your theory. May we sit down?”
Since the day before, when Emily and I had sat and talked under the maple tree, a third Adirondack chair had joined the other two. Assuming our acquiescence, Aunt Peg headed that way. The Dalmatians fell in line behind her, following along as though she was the Pied Piper.
“The puppies like you,” Emily commented as we took our seats. “They don’t usually take to strangers so quickly.”
“All dogs like Aunt Peg,” I said. “She has a gift.”
“Dogs like me because I like them back,” Aunt Peg said simply. “We’re drawn to each other by mutual appreciation. You asked me how I could tell these puppies came from the same litter.”
“Yes.” Emily nodded eagerly.
“Mostly it’s due to a similarity in type. These three all share a certain make and shape. Their bodies, their angulation, and their expressions are remarkably similar. Small details—the arch of their feet and the set of their ears, for example—are virtually the same. All of which points to the probability that they were produced by the set of same parents.”
Emily and I stared at the puppies, both of us trying to see the same things Aunt Peg did. Her hands moved as she spoke, indicating where we should be looking.
“That’s not to say that there aren’t differences between them,” Aunt Peg continued. “Poppy has the prettiest eyes and the best markings. Pansy has a beautiful topline, but she’s slightly cow hocked. And Posey is missing two teeth.”
“How do you know all that?” Emily asked in amazement.
Aunt Peg blinked, surprised by the question. “It’s my job to know that.”
“Aunt Peg is a dog show judge,” I said. “And Dalmatians are one of her breeds.”
“I thought you had Standard Poodles.”
“I do. But I’m also a student of the whole canine cornucopia.” She paused for a small frown. “These puppies are fine representatives of their breed. Under the circumstances, that seems rather odd.”
“What circumstances?” Emily asked.
“The unusual way they came to be in your possession,” Aunt Peg said. “Melanie told me they were an unexpected gift from your ex-husband.”
“That’s right.”
“During the course of your marriage, had he ever given you live animals before?”
“Well . . . no,” Emily admitted.
“But now—years after the two of you had parted—he suddenly showed up with three lovely Dalmatian puppies?”
“It came as a surprise to me too,” Emily said.
“Did he tell you where the puppies had come from?”
“No. And I didn’t ask. At the time, I had more important things on my mind. Like making sure that Will didn’t succeed in worming his way back into my life.”
Aunt Peg nodded as if that made perfect sense. “So the gift of three puppies wasn’t enough to soften your resolve?”
“If anything, it hardened it,” Emily retorted. “I didn’t realize it soon enough—not until after we were married—but Will wasn’t a trustworthy person. He never held a normal job. And he always kept his business dealings private. Money came in and went out again without my ever knowing how or why. All I knew was that Will usually seemed to have some kind of deal in the works.”
“You’re saying your ex-husband was a con man,” Aunt Peg summed up.
“No, I’m not.” Emily winced. “I would have called him an entrepreneur. Or perhaps an opportunist. Will was always on the hunt for his next big score.”
Aunt Peg and I shared a glance. He sounded like a con man to us.
Emily looked at the Dalmatians, who were now lying in the shade at our feet. “Will believed in the deals he put together. He was always sure they’d work out well for everyone involved. But . . .”
“That didn’t turn out to be the case?” I said.
Her gaze lifted. “I didn’t ask where the puppies had come from because I thought Will probably got them as some kind of payoff.”
“For what?” I asked.
“I don’t know. It was just a thought I had at the time. Like if a deal Will was mixed up in had fallen through, maybe one of his partners ended up owing him money he didn’t have. So the guy gave him the Dalmatians instead.”
“Except that Will apparently didn’t want the puppies.” I made no attempt to hide my skepticism. “Because he gave them away to you.”
“Will wasn’t the brightest guy,” Emily admitted. “If someone told him these dogs could be sold for a lot of money, he would have believed it. You know, because of the movie.” Her eyes drifted Aunt Peg’s way. “And because of you.”
“What about me?” Aunt Peg asked.
“Emily knows about Beau,” I told her. “I was a substitute counselor at Graceland camp that summer.”
“I told Will that story once,” Emily said. “About how the dog was worth a lot of money, and you were desperate to get him back.”
The reasons Aunt Peg wanted to find Beau had little to do with money, I thought. But Will probably wasn’t the kind of person who would worry about nuance in a tale that involved a large sum of cash.
“So you think he accepted the puppies as a payment of some kind,” Aunt Peg said. “And then found out they weren’t worth anything to him?”
Emily nodded.
“Did they come with papers?”
“Papers?” She looked blank.
“Pedigrees,” I told her. “AKC registrations?”
“No, it was just the dogs themselves. Will presented them to me like he thought he’d come up with a great idea. ‘Dalmatian puppies!’ he said. ‘Just like in the movies. The kids will go nuts for them!’ ” Emily looked me. “And they do. You know that.”
I nodded. Meanwhile, Aunt Peg was frowning again. That reminded me of another question she’d prodded me to ask.
“Do you own a gun?” I said to Emily.
“Me?” She looked shocked. “Of course not. What would I do with a gun?”
The obvious answer to that hung in the air between us.
“Even if I wanted a gun—which I don’t,” Emily said
pointedly, “it wouldn’t be safe to have one here with all the kids around.”
“Certainly not,” Aunt Peg agreed. “I can’t imagine what Melanie was thinking to even ask such a thing.”
I glared at Aunt Peg. She slipped me a quick wink.
Then she leaned toward Emily as if the two of them were well on their way to becoming best friends. “Listen now, we need to move along. You and I have a fundraiser to discuss.”
“Okay.” Emily sounded doubtful. “Melanie mentioned something about that. I’ve been wondering what she was talking about.”
“Let me explain.”
I’d never met anyone who could resist Aunt Peg when she had an objective in mind, and Emily proved to be no exception. Her initial uncertainty melted away as Aunt Peg outlined her vision for the event. Within minutes, the two women had formed a team. With the benefit barely in the planning stages, both were eager to get started. I listened in silence as they discussed everything from scheduling, to marketing and logistics.
Nobody asked for my input, which was fine with me. I’d previously been involved in plenty of Aunt Peg’s pet projects. This time, all I had to do was sit in the grass and play with the puppies. It definitely felt as though I’d gotten the better deal.
The sound of an approaching vehicle made me glance around, then stand up. A silver Lexus was coming up the school driveway. I wondered if Emily was expecting more visitors. Aunt Peg and I quickly gathered up the puppies so they couldn’t run toward the car.
“That’s my brother, Miles,” said Emily, standing up too. “He went into town to talk to the mechanic about Will’s truck. Don’t worry, he knows he needs to be careful.”
Miles parked beside Aunt Peg’s minivan and got out. Emily had told me a few things about her brother—but one thing she’d neglected to mention was how handsome Miles was. Like movie star handsome.
Maybe that wasn’t the kind of thing older sisters paid attention to. But Aunt Peg and I certainly did. We were both staring as Miles approached our group. His graceful, lengthy stride ate up the ground between us.
Emily’s brother had the body of an action hero, with broad shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist above long legs. His features were classically handsome, his eyes a deep shade of green. The slight breeze artfully tousled his rich brown hair. When he smiled, his whole face lit up.
“Hi, you must be Melanie,” he said, holding out a hand to me. “I’m Miles Harlan. I appreciate all the help you’ve given my sister.”
“I haven’t accomplished much yet,” I told him, before turning to introduce Aunt Peg.
“You’ve been a good friend,” Miles said seriously. Even his voice was swoon-worthy. “And that means a lot to both of us.”
“It’s lovely to meet you, Miles,” Aunt Peg cut in. “But Melanie and I must be going. We’ve taken up enough of Emily’s morning.” She turned to Emily. “Thank you for allowing me to meet your puppies.”
“They enjoyed meeting you too,” Emily replied. “Melanie, I’ll call you later, okay? I have a couple more ideas for you. People you might want to talk to.”
“Sure,” I said. “That would be great.”
What I’d told Miles was unfortunately true. I hadn’t really accomplished anything yet. It was time for me to get to work.
Chapter 17
“You certainly rushed us out of there in a hurry,” I said to Aunt Peg when we were in her minivan on our way home.
“What’s the matter?” She spared me a glance. “Did you want to stay and continue making calf-eyes at Miles?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I muttered. “And what are calf-eyes anyway?”
“They’re big and googly, and they convey an element of longing. It wasn’t an attractive look on you.”
“It doesn’t sound like an attractive look on anyone,” I said. “And I wasn’t longing for anything.”
“Then you should be happy to be heading home,” she retorted.
I stared at her suspiciously. “You know something.”
“I know a great many things. Which one would you like to hear about?”
“The one that pertains to Emily’s problems—” I started, then abruptly stopped. This was Aunt Peg I was talking to, after all. “No, the one that pertains to Emily’s Dalmatians. You learned something, didn’t you?”
Aunt Peg snorted under her breath. “It look you long enough to figure that out.”
“Tell me,” I said.
“First of all, those puppies that your friend has been letting run loose all over creation aren’t just run-of-the-mill Dalmatians. They are well-bred, well-made dogs, most likely produced from champion stock. A reasonably competent handler could finish two of them in the show ring without even drawing a deep breath.”
“Wow.”
That earned me another look. “That’s all you have to say? Wow?”
“I’m surprised?”
“Frankly,” Aunt Peg sniffed, “I’m surprised you couldn’t tell that much yourself. How many Non-Sporting groups have you watched in the last decade?”
Too many to count, I thought. But I was pretty sure that was a rhetorical question.
“Usually the Dalmatian stands near the head of the line, right beside the Standard Poodle. Have you never bothered to take a look?”
Of course I’d seen my share of champion Dalmatians. Usually out of the corner of my eye while I’d been watching the Poodles.
“Apparently not closely enough,” I said.
“I see. I expect you to remedy that deficit at the show next weekend.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“You needn’t be rude,” Aunt Peg said. “I went to Graceland today as a favor to you.”
“No, you went to Graceland because you wanted to see three Dalmatian puppies who’d piqued your curiosity,” I corrected. “I was the one who came along as a favor. Now tell me what else you learned.”
“What makes you think there was more?”
I sighed under my breath. Now she was just being difficult. And possibly waiting for an apology.
“With you, there’s always more,” I said instead.
“Indeed there is.” Aunt Peg sounded pleased with herself. I hadn’t meant it as a compliment. “Those puppies aren’t just quality Dalmatians. They also have the look of a dog I’ve judged several times. One who’s currently standing at stud in Westchester County.”
That got my attention. I swiveled in my seat to look at her. “Are you saying you might know who the puppies’ sire is?”
“At the risk of repeating myself, yes.”
“And with that information, you can probably figure out who their breeder was?”
“Again, yes.”
“Then I’ll be able to find out how Will got possession of them.”
“Indeed.” Aunt Peg nodded happily. “Once I’ve called around and asked a few questions, I may be able to solve this whole mystery for you.”
That came as a surprise. “You’ll know who killed Will Grace and why?”
“Oh that.” She dismissed the question as if its answer wasn’t important. “I was talking about the mystery of the puppies.”
I should have known.
“I guess that’s a start,” I said.
* * *
That afternoon, I was out on the deck, watering the marigolds in the flower boxes. I’m not much of a gardener. Keeping hardy flowers alive during their natural growing season is about the best that I can manage. Faith and Eve were lying nearby supervising.
Davey came walking out the back door. One of his hands was extended in my direction. “It’s for you,” he said.
I glanced over at him. “That’s my phone.”
Davey shrugged. He already knew that. “That’s why it’s for you.”
“Who is it?”
“Ms. Grace. She says she has some info for you.”
“Cool.” I put down the watering pot.
“You know people stopped using that word years ago, right?”
>
“Neat-o,” I replied. “Do you like that better?”
“Not really,” my teenager grumbled. He handed over the phone and left.
“Neat-o?” Emily said when I’d lifted the device to my ear. “Really?”
“You’re a teacher,” I told her. “You should know it’s a parent’s sworn duty to embarrass their children. Is everything okay?”
“Yes, fine. I feel much better—more secure—now that Miles is here.”
“That’s good,” I said. “Even better, there hasn’t been another incident in the past few days.”
“I should hope not,” Emily replied. “The authorities have been all over the place. And now my brother is here to help keep an eye on things. Hopefully the worst is behind us.”
“Amen to that,” I said.
“I called to give you a couple more names.”
“Great.” I walked inside the kitchen to get a pen and paper. “Shoot.”
“The first one is Jeff Earley. He and his wife, Linda, are neighbors.”
“They live in the subdivision?”
“No, on the other side. They’re an older couple who’ve been in their house for years. Both of them are retired, so they’re around a lot. Maybe they saw something—or heard something—that could be useful for you.”
Emily gave me the couple’s phone number. I was sure the police would have already interviewed the Earleys, but hopefully they wouldn’t mind talking to me too.
“The next guy is Bradley Luft.” She also supplied his contact info.
I wrote both things down. “Who’s he?”
“Bradley was Will’s best friend. They grew up together in Darien, so they were lifelong buddies. Even when I was married to Will, I suspected Bradley knew him better than I did. And I was probably right.”
“Thanks. I’ll see about talking to both of them,” I said. “Have you been in touch with Detective Sturgill about how his investigation is going?”
“Definitely not,” Emily replied. “I don’t intend to talk to him again if I don’t have to. I don’t even want my name to be on his radar.”
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