Death by Dog Show

by Arlene Kay

  Babette brightened. “You know, I bet even Monique Allaire finds something wrong with herself, and that woman is damn close to perfect. Correction. She is perfect.”

  Nothing deflated my ego faster than comparisons to Pruett’s ex-lover, Monique. In addition to her physical perfection, she was also a successful photojournalist who traveled the world and ran with the jet set. I ruefully acknowledged that brains and beauty were a formidable combination in any woman

  Before Babette continued her list of superlatives, I hushed her by putting a finger to my lips. After all, Monique also happened to be Ella’s mother. No need to upset the little girl with idle chatter about the woman who virtually ignored her.

  That realization and the sudden appearance of Ella won a smile and shrug of resignation from Babette. We both focused on greeting the little girl and gearing up for a canine convenience stop. Boots, caps, gloves, and scarves were assembled, and dogs hitched to leads. “Wagons ho,” Babette sang out. “Be careful not to slip on the steps.” She couldn’t resist taking a furtive peak at Rafa’s Airstream, but it was buttoned up tight against the marauding elements.

  Mounds of snow made our trek tedious and treacherous. Not for the dogs, of course. Human frailties were on full display, but my boys, Guinnie, and Clara delighted in bounding from drift to drift without the slightest difficulty. Ella tried valiantly to match them until she sank into a snow bank and vanished. Before we reached her, Wing Pruett, her personal superhero, swooped down from nowhere and extricated his child from the snow. When it came to Ella, his senses were always on high alert.

  “There she is,” her doting daddy said, wiping the snow from her face. His voice was calm, but I sensed incipient panic brewing. Ella hugged her dad and laughed. “Isn’t it funny, Daddy? I’m covered in snow. Just like Guinnie.”

  Crisis averted, our entire tribe trudged back toward Steady Eddie and the promise of warmth and soothing sustenance. On the way, we ran smack into Roar Jansen and his trusty sidekick Genna, decked out in garb that equipped them for whatever the weather gods might decree.

  “Join us for some espresso,” said Babette ever the perfect hostess. “You’ll freeze standing outside.”

  Roar gave her a dazzling smile, but before he responded, Genna jumped in. “Just had coffee. We’re here to see the psychic.” Her growl immediately dispelled any semblance of civility and cut straight to the business at hand. Roar shrugged it off by ignoring the entire matter.

  “I sure could use some espresso,” he said with a grin. “Station-house coffee can’t compete with your brew, Mrs. Croy.”

  Babette tossed her curls and hurled a triumphant smile at Genna. “Coming right up,” she chirped. She tugged open the door, and after stamping our boots on the mat, we clambered aboard Steady Eddie.

  Roar sighed as he sipped the steaming beverage. When it came to social graces, his technique was world-class. “Perfect. Hits the spot.” He seamlessly switched conversational gears and nodded to Pruett. “You were here when Bethany Zahn discussed this Jess Pendrake?”

  Babette immediately interjected. “Here? That hussy Bethany practically sat in his lap. I don’t know how Perri kept her cool.”

  Genna curled her lip as she turned my way, confirming my initial reaction that she was a most unpleasant person. Probably besotted with her partner too, although that was certainly understandable.

  “Bethany isn’t shy. She’ll tell you that herself,” Pruett said. “I suspect any number of people disliked Lee Holmes. Sounds like he had a talent for making enemies.”

  Roar’s response heightened the tension in the room. “Sounds like maybe you were one of them, huh, Pruett? We really need to talk.” He jumped to his feet and grabbed his snow gear. “Later, folks. Come on, Genna.”

  I bit my tongue to avoid gasping. Roar’s words were more warning than casual aside. Without a solid motive, he couldn’t really suspect Pruett of murder, but that didn’t stop me from worrying. Pruett, on the other hand, seemed more blasé than normal.

  “Perri! You in a trance, girl?” Tact wasn’t always a strong point with Babette, as she so amply illustrated. “I asked what our next move was.”

  Guilt made the heat rise in my cheeks. “Sorry. Why don’t you and Ella take the dogs over to the agility area? You know they’ll be practicing, no matter what.”

  Babette frowned. “What about you?”

  “I plan to actually work. Some customers texted me orders this morning, so it’s tag and bag time for this working stiff.”

  Pruett narrowed his eyes as if he didn’t quite buy my story. “I’ll join you later, Perri. Who knows? Ella may want to build a snowman.”

  The little girl’s peals of laughter echoed all the way over to the Better Living Center, proving yet again that happiness was a warm puppy and a happy child.

  * * * *

  Hustle and hard work helped to clear my mind. Lee Holmes had a ton of enemies, most of whom were capable of plunging those shears into his cheating heart. I did a quick mental count of the ones I knew of: Rafa Ramos, Jess Pendrake, Roy Vesco, Whit Wiley, and, of course, Yael Lindsay, the long-suffering spouse. They were probably the tip of a very deadly iceberg. Dog show folks tended to band together against outsiders, especially those wearing a badge. Hard to believe that the oleaginous Lee Holmes had sparked passion in a number of female breasts as well. Ugh! The man was the type who made my skin crawl. I recalled the fracas over him between Bethany and Yael. Roar must have gotten an earful about that already, and it was really none of my concern. Still, old habits die hard, and I had always been taught to do my civic duty. Since Babette was prowling around the agility enclosure, I texted her, mentioning Bethany and her connection to Lee Holmes. If I knew my Babette, she would be on that like a robin after a spring worm. Odds were, she might actually garner some useful information in the process.

  Time to stretch my legs and give the pups some exercise. I signaled to Keats and Poe, grabbed my keys, and locked up my store. On the way out, I collided with one of my least favorite customers, Whit Wiley.

  “Leaving so soon, Perri?” He flashed his specious smile while deftly avoiding the Malinois. Keats and Poe had never warmed up to Whit, a tribute to their innate sense of taste and his survival instincts.

  “Just taking a break. Were you looking for anything special?” My smile was feigned, and he knew it.

  Whit shrugged. “Nah. Let me walk out with you. Can’t be too careful with a killer on the loose.”

  “Thanks, but I can take care of myself, and my dogs are great backup. Schutzhund-trained, you know.”

  He shuddered. “No joke. I was hoping you’d protect me from the killer. Fisticuffs aren’t exactly my style, as you can plainly see.” He steered me by the elbow as I secured my store and headed for the exit.

  “They interviewed Vesco, you know. Read him his Miranda rights, just like on TV.” Whit’s piggy little eyes glinted with malice.

  “Really? What happened?”

  He curled his lip in a sneer. “Roy denied everything, of course, and lawyered up. That didn’t bother the cops one bit, though. They just plowed right ahead. Even corralled that vixen Kiki. I heard she was yucking it up until that woman detective took her aside. Now that is one frightening female. And I don’t mean Kiki.”

  I grinned. Couldn’t help it, didn’t try. Fearsome Genna had her uses, and striking fear of the law into a truculent temptress was just her style.

  “Does Vesco show any dogs? I haven’t seen him around the ring before.”

  My flesh crawled as Wiley squeezed my arm. “Darling. You always hibernate in that little store of yours, so, of course, you miss everything. Vesco is some kind of mechanic. No, maybe a truck driver. Anyhow, he appears with his big hulk of a dog whenever they have an Am Staff specialty. Won’t admit that they’re just Pit Bulls with a fancy name. Menacing, I call it. Roy and his dog too. Calls him Brutus, if you can b
elieve it. I doubt that Roy is a Shakespeare aficionado, so you can guess where he got that name.”

  Although I would never admit it to Wiley, Roy did seem like the pit bull type. Even though handlers and breeders all swore that there was nothing inherently sinister about that or any other breed, I was unconvinced. A vigorous debate on the “nature versus nurture” issue typically ensued with neither side willing to cede ground to the other. Call me a bigot or a coward, but I gave American Staffordshire terriers and their mixes a wide berth whenever possible. Too many sad stories surrounded them.

  My patience was wearing thin, so I tried one final maneuver. “Roy seems devoted to Kiki. Their divorce must have hit him hard.”

  Whit nodded. “Kiki never played the housewife, darling. That one has a yen for excitement, and she’s not too choosy about her partners. You can imagine how Yael reacted when that news spread.”

  “Poor Yael,” I said. “Bad enough to lose her husband, but all the unpleasantness too.”

  Whit stopped short, causing me to stumble into him. “Darling, Yael will be just fine. She planned to unload that parasite anyway. Didn’t you know?”

  I shook my head.

  “Think of the money she would save. Lee ran up bills all over the show circuit. Failed businesses, theft of services—the works.” He coughed, a suggestive, delicate sound. “Not to mention the hearts he broke.”

  That was my cue. Whit was the type who teased out one morsel of information at a time. Indifference was the best strategy to get him talking. I stared straight ahead and stayed silent.

  “You really didn’t know?” he asked. “I thought everybody on the show circuit kept a running score of Lee’s conquests. Frankly, I’m surprised he didn’t hit on you too, considering those remarks he made.”

  I summoned my most innocent smile. “Nope. Not my type.”

  Whit immediately turned coy. “Oh, I get it. Lee didn’t stand a chance against Wing Pruett.” He snickered. “Does our sexy psychic know that? I saw her hanging on him this morning. Or maybe she was just predicting his future. He seemed to be enjoying himself, though.” I curled my lip, causing Whit to put his hand over his mouth. “Forget I said that, Perri. I’m sure he was just being polite.”

  I considered using a martial arts move to silence Wiley’s malicious tongue forever. Fortunately, self-control is my superpower. Instead of venom, I radiated womanly charm or my best effort at it.

  “Who could blame Bethany or any other woman for admiring Pruett? Men need their space, after all. Besides, I thought Bethany was interested in Rafa Ramos.”

  “Rafa!” Wiley hooted loudly. “Honey, that man could have his pick, but he’s all business. Besides he’s a family man. Has a brood somewhere in Spain, or so I heard.”

  My heart sank for poor Babette and another romantic disaster on the horizon. I swiftly changed the subject. “Someone told me that Jess Pendrake had a thing for Lee too.” I gave the release signal to Keats and Poe and watched them streak gracefully into the snowy fields like silver bullets.

  “Poor Jess,” Whit said. “Such a pathetic creature. Even the dogs shy away from that one. Lee must have been desperate. No money or charm, and sex was out of the question. Whatever could he have been thinking?”

  On impulse, I turned sharply toward Whit, causing him to slip on the snow. “You were Lee’s business partner too, or so I heard.”

  The reaction was immediate and very instructive. Wiley’s expression changed from snarky to wary as he dusted himself off. “You were misinformed, Perri. Better get your facts straight. I’m just helping Yael to tie up loose ends. Nothing more.” He checked his watch. “In fact, I’m late for a meeting with her now. Take care of yourself.”

  He scuttled off toward the Better Living Center without further comment.

  Chapter 11

  One more surprise awaited me that day. As I sauntered toward the agility ring, Punky flagged me down and beckoned me closer. “I did you a favor today, Perri.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep!” She flashed the impish grin that won her that nickname. “Still need a handler for your pointer?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, look no more. See that guy over there.” She pointed several rows over, where a tall, bespectacled man was lovingly grooming a sizable briard. “That’s Alf Walsh, the handler we told you about. Chanticleer, the briard, gave most handlers fits, but Alf has the patience of Job. I swear, the man talks dog better than almost anyone here. I already mentioned your pointer to him.”

  I put Keats and Poe in a sit/stay and ambled over to introduce myself. Alf was a slightly stooped middle-aged man with a wispy mustache and gentle blue eyes. He greeted me without interrupting his grooming routine.

  “Ah, the pointer person,” he said. “Lady Guinevere, am I right?”

  I nodded, knowing that a true dog person focused on the canine rather than human element. After a brief discussion about Guinnie, Ella, and Pruett, we arranged to meet at Steady Eddie that evening. “It’s important for everyone to connect,” Alf said. “Otherwise, things can go south fast. Chanticleer here is an example. He’s a dog who constantly tests you.” Alf gently patted the briard as he spoke. “But the two of us understand each other, don’t we, Chanty?”

  The briard turned his head, and for a second, I swore that the dog rolled his eyes.

  We humans had a far less complicated agenda. We sealed the deal and agreed to meet at eight pm.

  * * * *

  The moment I reached the trailer, I knew that something was up. Babette bustled about the kitchen, fairly bursting with news. She quickly arranged a spread of tasty edibles on the countertop and poured both of us a glass of wine. Ella settled for cookies dipped in a mug of foamy milk that she shared with Guinnie.

  “I had quite the day,” Babette said with a superior smirk. “First, Clara and I got a lot of agility practice in. She’s a real winner, right, Ella?”

  Between sips of milk, the little girl chirped agreement. “You should see her, Ms. Perri.”

  I downplayed my curiosity, knowing that Babette couldn’t wait to spill the beans. “That’s nice,” I said. “I have news to report too. I think I found just the right handler for Guinnie. He’s coming over tonight to meet you and your dad. Okay, Ella?”

  Babette lowered her eyes, giving me what I termed her guilty look. “We ran into Pruett, and he said to tell you he’d be late tonight. Might not even make it.”

  “Okay. No problem.” I gave myself a mental shake that dispelled all thoughts of Pruett and Bethany Zahn or any other potential threats. The man was a free agent, able to choose any companion he desired. Desire! Not a word I cared to dwell on when it came to Pruett. Better to focus on dogs and murder. I was on much firmer ground there.

  Ella turned on the television and snuggled on the couch with Guinnie, watching Animal Planet. Babette beckoned me closer and lowered her voice. Her smug expression told me that she had gotten a big scoop.

  “I really earned my gold detective shield today,” she said. “Two words—Bethany Zahn.”

  “Okay,” I dug into my pocket for liver treats and tossed them to the dogs.

  My response or lack thereof deflated Babette. I could tell by the way she frowned and puckered her lips. A pouting Babette Croy was a fearsome prospect indeed.

  “Cheer up,” I said. “Frowning causes wrinkles. You know that.”

  She tossed artfully highlighted curls. “Pshaw. Honey, with the bucks I spend on Botox, there’s no way I’ll ever get frown lines. Trust me on that.”

  I bowed my head, acknowledging defeat. “Okay. Now what’s your big scoop?”

  Before speaking, Babette nodded toward Ella. “Go wash up before dinner, pumpkin.”

  As soon as the little girl left, the floodgates opened. “Ms. Z had plenty to say, but I was cagey about it. You know that way I have of getting even a clam to op
en up.”

  As difficult as it was to imagine a subtle Babette, I played along. “Nobody does it better. Come on. I’m dying from suspense. Put me out of my misery.”

  She finally took pity on me. “Chill, why don’t you. I’ll get there.” She rubbed her hands together. “Okay. I really didn’t even have to say a thing. The minute I got there, Bethany was all over me like a rash. Wanted every little detail of how you found him. Blood and all. Even the creepy stuff.”

  That puzzled me. From my limited exposure to Bethany, I pegged her as the sly type who would pick you clean without sharing anything. “Why was she so interested?”

  Babette gave me her widest grin, dimples and all. “Exactly what I asked her. You know me. I played it coy.”

  Silence was often more platinum than golden. I buttoned my lip and nodded.

  “Okay. Bethany was real interested in the murder weapon—those poodle shears. Asked everything, including the color and blade size.”

  I crossed my fingers and made a wish that for once in her well-intentioned life, Babette had not spilled the proverbial beans.

  “What did you tell her?”

  “That’s just it. I told the truth. Naturally, I was willing to lie if necessary, but it wasn’t. I said that you and Pruett found the corpse and were too traumatized to say much.”

  Something didn’t register. Babette, major chatterbox, keeping quiet? It didn’t compute. “She bought that?” I asked, skepticism radiating from my every pore. Bethany struck me as being one very tough cookie who didn’t fool easily.

  “Not at first.” Another head toss. “But then I mentioned that awful woman cop, and she went ballistic. Seems Sergeant Watts gave her the third degree and really shook the psychic up. Practically accused her of murdering Lee.”

  “Well, did she?” Sexual jealousy had fueled murders throughout human history. Why not now? Dog show people were no better or worse than the rest of our unlovely species.

  Babette’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Are you nuts?” she snarled. “Like she would really blurt out a confession to me! I barely know the hussy.”