“What about Steve?” asked Alice.
“He’s definitely dead.”
“I know that. But you were supposed to be figuring out who killed him. How’s that going?”
There was only one thing I could think to say. “Slowly.”
“And you had the nerve to criticize me.”
“Maybe I should bake Candy a cake,” I said mildly.
“Make it a bundt,” said Alice. “They do the trick every time.”
23
Fortunately, Shannon Ritter wasn’t hard to find. I let my fingers do the walking through half a column of telephone book listings and at the sixth grooming salon I called, the person who picked up the phone offered to get her for me. I declined and asked instead what hours she worked.
“Eight to five,” the woman said shortly. “Just like the rest of us.”
I’d returned home after visiting Pine Ridge and seeing Alice, but now it looked as though I’d be heading out again. Sam was working, so Kevin was with me. Riding in the car ranks right up there among his favorite things, so he didn’t mind a bit.
Beautiful Petz turned out to be a storefront operation in a strip mall on the Post Road in west Norwalk. I had Kevin’s stroller with me, but once again it was easier just to wrap the sling around my shoulders and pop him inside.
The car windows had been open during our drive, and when I went to get Kevin out of his car seat I saw that most of his wispy blond hair was standing on end around his head. Unfortunately, my efforts to smooth the strands down into place with my fingers only created more static. When I began to laugh, Kevin joined in, clapping his hands with glee. Punk baby it was.
A bell above the door chimed as we entered the store. I doubted that any of the groomers scattered around the big room could hear it over the high-decibel roar of blow-dryers and rock music, but one lifted her head and glanced my way.
“We don’t take walk-ins,” she said.
Without waiting for a reply, she turned her attention back to the fluffy little dog on her table. It looked more or less like a Cockapoo, but the groomer was scissoring in the lines of a Bichon.
“I don’t have a dog,” I said. “I’m here to see Shannon Ritter.”
“What?”
I took a couple of steps closer.
“Shannon Ritter?” I yelled.
Kevin stirred within the sling, and I gave his back a reassuring rub.
“She expecting you?”
I shook my head.
“She’s busy.”
The groomer lifted a hand and pointed with her scissors. A girl in the back of the room was lifting a wet Cocker Spaniel out of a tub. The black dog was draped in towels, only its muzzle and nose were visible.
Shannon looked younger than Larry by at least a decade. Baggy overalls covered most of her body, but she was thin enough that her shoulder blades stood out in stark relief beneath her thin T-shirt. Long red hair was piled in a messy knot on top of her head. Her roots needed touching up.
I started to walk back to see her. The groomer at the front table held up her arm to bar my way.
“No customers allowed past the yellow line. Company rules. Safety, you know?”
Like what? I might accidentally trip over a grooming table and fall in a bathtub? I sighed and stepped behind the line of tape on the floor.
Shannon was now placing the Cocker in a wire crate. She shut the door and directed the flow of a nearby blower to start the process of drying his coat. This looked like an opportune time to grab her.
“Would you mind getting her for me, please?”
The groomer rolled her eyes. I crossed my arms over my chest. Or as close as I could come with Kevin there.
We’d reached a standoff.
The woman sighed in exasperation. I couldn’t hear the sound, but her body language was eloquent enough to convey her meaning.
Then she swiveled around and screamed, “Shan! Lady here to see you!”
Jeez. I could have done that.
Shannon gave me the once-over from the back of the room.
I gave her a friendly little wave in return.
Shannon didn’t look impressed. “What’s she want?” she yelled.
“Dunno.” An exaggerated shrug punctuated the reply.
It was like watching the Three Stooges have a conversation.
“I need to talk to you,” I said.
“Like, now?”
“Like, yeah.”
When in Rome and all that.
With a last glance at the Cocker, now lying on the floor of the crate and cringing beneath the rush of hot air, Shannon opened a nearby cupboard, grabbed her purse, and threaded her way through the other tables to the front of the store.
“Come on outside,” she said.
I was only too happy to follow. After the barrage of noise in the grooming salon, the sound of traffic on the nearby Post Road seemed almost soothing.
Shannon stepped to one side. The shipping store next door had a striped awning that provided a welcome strip of shade across the sidewalk. She’d slung her purse over her shoulder and her hand fumbled inside it briefly before emerging with a cigarette and a lighter.
In a gesture that was both practiced and economical, she lit up, inhaled deeply, and leaned back against the concrete building. I was guessing she did this a lot.
“So,” she said. “What?”
“I want to talk to you about Steve Pine.”
“Shit.” She frowned. “I thought it was something important.”
“His death isn’t?”
“Not to me.”
I was hoping she’d elaborate, but unfortunately the cigarette made a great oral substitute. Shannon sucked on that thing so hard that I wouldn’t have been surprised to see it disappear into her mouth.
I considered my options and decided to play dumb. “I guess that means you two didn’t have a good working relationship?”
“We didn’t have a good any-kind-of-relationship.” Her eyes narrowed. “And this is your business why?”
“Candy asked for my help—”
“She would.” Shannon snorted. “Candy can’t get anything done on her own. Larry—he’s my guy, he works there—says the place is falling apart now that Steve’s not around to run things. Probably only a matter of time until it goes under.”
Deliberately I angled my body away from hers. Kevin didn’t need to breathe in any of her secondhand smoke. Shannon noted the move, glanced down inside the sling, and exhaled in the opposite direction.
“I guess you wouldn’t be sorry to see that happen,” I said.
“None of my business anymore. I imagine you heard I got fired. That’s probably why you’re here, right? To see if I was mad enough to sneak back over there and shoot Steve?”
Cigarette dangling from between her lips, Shannon laughed as if the thought was highly entertaining.
“Were you mad enough?”
“Nah. Why would I be? So I lost my job, big deal. I’m working again. One place is as good as another, you know?”
“You’re bathing dogs,” I said. “That’s grunt work. I bet it doesn’t pay as much as grooming.”
“So I’ll work my way up again. There’s always plenty of turnover.”
The cigarette was already half gone. I had no illusions about why Shannon hadn’t already left and gone back inside. The nicotine fix was the draw, not me. Which meant I only had another minute or two.
“Is one boyfriend as good as another too?”
“What does that mean?”
“You and Steve had more than a working relationship.”
“Maybe . . . once upon a time. That was over a while ago.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
“Yeah?” Shannon straightened abruptly. Her face leaned in close to mine. “Well, you can tell Candy from me that she has a big mouth. And that brother of hers? He wasn’t the angel she thought he was. Nowhere near. You should hear some of the stories Larry tells about things the two of them did
together when they were younger.”
“I heard they’d been friends for a long time. I guess that must have been pretty awkward for you.”
“What?”
“Going from one to the other.”
“It wasn’t like that.” She shook her head vehemently. “Not at all.”
“Larry didn’t mind?”
“You must be kidding. Larry got lucky when he got me, and he knew it.”
Who says America’s youth is lacking in self-esteem?
“So now the two of you are living together.”
Shannon averted her eyes briefly. “For now. You know, until I get my shit together.”
“And then what?”
She pulled the stub of the cigarette out of her mouth, dropped it to the sidewalk, and ground it beneath the heel of her shoe. “Then I guess we’ll have to see, won’t we?”
She started to leave, then paused. “You’ll see Candy again, right?”
I nodded.
“You want to take her a message from me?”
“Maybe.”
“Just tell her . . .” Shannon’s expression softened. “Just tell her I’m sorry about what happened.”
It wasn’t the message I’d expected.
“I can do that,” I said.
I stopped and picked up Davey at camp on the way home. Then Sam called and told me to grab some Chinese food while I was out. Enough for four, he specified. So I stopped and did that too.
We arrived home to find Sam and Aunt Peg having drinks out on the deck. Aunt Peg took one look and held out her arms. I delivered Kevin into them.
“He needs a bottle,” I said.
“I know how!” cried Davey. “Let me.”
Sam followed him back inside to supervise, and I sat down on the chaise next to Peg.
“You look worn out,” she said. “Aren’t you sleeping?”
“No.” I probably sounded a bit testy. I nodded Kevin’s way. “You can blame him for that. And why does everyone keep commenting about how I look?”
“People care about you.”
“They never cared this much before,” I grumbled.
“Maybe you never noticed before.”
Aunt Peg bounced her knee up and down. Kevin jiggled, threw his hands up in the air, and laughed a throaty little chuckle.
“I thought new mothers were supposed to glow,” she said.
Aunt Peg, who never had children herself, is sometimes a little hazy about the particulars.
“That’s pregnant women. I was glowing last year.”
“Really? I don’t remember that. How’s your suspect list coming? I seem to recall there were several more people you were going to interview.”
I nodded. “Roger Cavanaugh, the silent partner, for one. I saw him last night.”
“And?”
“He didn’t have anything earth shattering to report. He said his contribution to Pine Ridge was strictly financial, and that he’d been perfectly pleased with the way his investment was being managed by the Pines.”
“Harrumph,” said Aunt Peg.
The sound was meant to convey disapproval with what I’d accomplished without actually adding anything to the conversation. As you might surmise, I’ve heard it before.
“And then this afternoon I spoke with Shannon Ritter.”
“Which one is she?”
“Current girlfriend of Larry the maintenance man, ex-girlfriend of Steve Pine, and the groomer who was responsible for letting JoyJoy the Shih Tzu get bred to Buster.”
“JoyJoy?”
I swear I could be passing along state secrets and if there was a dog anywhere in the mix, she’d zero in on that first.
“That was her name.”
“It’s ridiculous.”
Aunt Peg jiggled Kevin again and his head appeared to nod in agreement. No doubt, she did that on purpose.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t name her. I’m just the messenger. And it would help if you could focus on the important things.”
Aunt Peg frowned. She turned her head fully in my direction and stared at me with a look that went straight down her nose.
“I would be delighted to do so, if only you would tell me what those are. There’s a method to mystery solving, you know. At this point you’re supposed to be narrowing things down, not blithely enlarging the list as you go along. Have you eliminated anybody as a suspect yet?”
Blithely? Come on, blithely? That was a low blow. If there was anything blithe about what I’d been doing, I had yet to discover what.
“Well . . .” I admitted reluctantly. “I guess Candy Pine.”
“Steve’s business partner and closest relative? The woman who, I assume, inherited the majority of his assets? Interesting choice. And what’s the reason you’ve decided she’s innocent?”
Like I hadn’t seen that coming.
“Instinct,” I said with more fervor than I was actually feeling. “I’m going with my gut.”
“Good Lord, that’s brave of you. When I follow my gut, it usually leads me straight to the refrigerator. And speaking of which, didn’t someone promise me dinner?”
“I did.” Sam appeared in the doorway with a bottle in his hand. “Moo shu pork, beef with broccoli, kung pao chicken. All coming up as soon as I take care of this guy.” He leaned down and scooped Kevin up out of Aunt Peg’s arms. “It’s a beautiful evening. I thought we’d eat outside.”
I jumped up. “I’ll set the table and pour the drinks.”
Aunt Peg followed me inside to help. While Davey was preparing Kevin’s bottle, Sam had fed the Poodles. All five had their noses buried in their dishes when we walked into the kitchen. Faith lifted her head briefly, wagged her tail in greeting, then went back to eating.
I stood there for a minute, watched the big black dogs inhale the kibble and stew mix, and thought about the fifty-pound sack of dry dog food we had stored in our pantry. Even with five dogs to feed, it lasted for quite a while.
“What are you staring at?” asked Aunt Peg. Her gaze roamed from one Poodle to the next, checking to see what she’d missed.
“I’m thinking.”
“About what?”
“Kibble. In fifty-pound bags.”
“A very economical arrangement. Anyone with more than a mouth or two to feed should buy their dog food that way.”
“I know.”
I opened a cupboard and pulled out four placemats and napkins. I was still thinking. Aunt Peg continued to look at me curiously.
“Ten years ago,” I said, “when Uncle Max was still alive and Cedar Crest Kennel was at its peak, how many Poodles did you have?”
“Quite a few.” Aunt Peg stopped and considered. “We kept many more good ones to show in those days. And sometimes had three or even four litters in a year. Max loved the new puppies. He was always sure that each litter was going to contain our next superstar.”
Considering the number of top Standard Poodles Cedar Crest Kennel had produced over the decades, Max had probably been right about that more often than not.
“How many?” I asked again.
“Maybe twenty-five, perhaps even as high as thirty at times. That seems like a tremendous number now, but with both of us as involved as we were, it never felt like a lot of work. Why do you ask?”
I shook my head. I didn’t want to lose my train of thought.
“I’ll tell you in a minute. Just bear with me first. Next question. When you had that many dogs to feed, how much kibble did you go through?”
“I’d have to think back . . .”
“Wait. Before you do that, here’s a better question. How many times per week did you have dog food and other supplies delivered?”
“Per week?” Aunt Peg sounded surprised. “Certainly less than once. I seem to recall we had a regular monthly delivery. In most cases, that was more than sufficient to meet our needs.”
Once a month ? I pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down. Aunt Peg took the placemats and napkins out of my hands and went ou
tside to set the table herself. Meanwhile, I kept thinking.
Judging by what I’d seen, Byram Pet Supply was making deliveries to Pine Ridge several times a week. And according to what Steve had told me on my first visit, they cared for about as many dogs per day as Aunt Peg had had in her kennel. Not only that, but Pine Ridge’s dogs went home at the end of the day. So why was Cole always there, and how could they possibly be going through so many supplies?
“You look like you’re on to something,” said Aunt Peg. Hands filled with silverware, she passed by on her way outside again.
“I think maybe I am.”
“Kibble?”
“That’s part of it.”
“Not the most important part, I hope.” She sounded skeptical.
“I don’t know yet. Maybe. At any rate, it’s worth following up.”
“What is?” asked Sam.
He and Davey were back. Kevin was nowhere to be seen. Presumably, they’d read the baby a story and put him to bed. Early nights like this probably explained why he got us all up at the crack of dawn.
“Dinner,” said Aunt Peg. She looked around at the three of us. “I’m starved and no one’s offered me so much as a potato chip yet. Are you people going to feed me or not?”
“Coming right up,” I said. This time my gut was following Aunt Peg’s.
Dinner it was.
24
The next day was Field Day at Davey’s soccer camp. Both Sam and I were planning to attend. Before the event began in late morning, however, there was just enough time for me to make a quick trip down to Byram to talk to Cole Demarkian.
Byram is a small section of Greenwich, Connecticut, tucked into the southwest corner of town. It’s the final outpost of Fairfield County before the New York border, and the area owes its commercial identity more to neighboring Port Chester than to the chic shops and upscale boutiques that characterize the rest of its hometown.
Byram Pet Supply turned out to be a warehouse store, housed in a large, square, concrete building, and located in a high traffic area between the Post Road and the shoreline. Early on Wednesday morning, the parking lot out front was almost empty.
Aside from my Volvo, the only other vehicles I saw were three identical white cargo vans, each sporting the company logo. Hopefully, the fact that they were still sitting there meant that Cole hadn’t yet left the store to begin his day’s deliveries.
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