Best in Show (6 page)

“Don't worry. I'm sure Christian will buy his share.” Aunt Peg waved away Bertie's and my objections as she picked up the check and signed it to her room. “I dare say we've left Mr. Bradley to his own devices quite long enough. Who would like to walk back down to the grooming room with me and see if he's still around?”

“I'll go,” I volunteered. “But first I want stop in my room and pick up Eve. While we're downstairs, she can have her evening run.”

Bertie begged off due to fatigue, and promised she'd see us at the symposium the following morning. Aunt Peg headed to her room to fetch Hope. Ten minutes later, we met downstairs outside the grooming room. The two Poodles scooted around the carpeted hallway, greeting each other with joyous leaps and playful bows.

By now, the room was nearly empty. Later in the week, the preparations and primping would continue until all hours of the night. But this early, with only the obedience trial on tap for the next day, most exhibitors had already packed up and left. The Boone sisters were gone, as were the handlers we'd seen earlier, including Damien Bradley.

“That's good news, right?” I said, staggering back slightly as the two big black Poodles bounced off my legs in their play.

“Let's hope so.” Aunt Peg didn't sound convinced.

We headed out the door on the other side of the hall. Even though it was June, the evening air still held a chill. Following Aunt Peg outside, I was glad I'd thought to pick up a sweater in my room.

By night, the field that had been designated as our exercise area was a sea of darkness and shadow. The hotel had outdoor lights but their beams were meant to light the walkways that ran beside the building. Aunt Peg and I weren't the only ones outside with our dogs, but the ranks of those looking to exercise their Poodles had thinned considerably. For most exhibitors, the day's work was finished. The hotel bar was probably doing a booming business.

I'd been planning to let Eve loose to have another run before going to bed but abruptly I realized how easy it would be to lose sight of the black puppy in the shadows. The L-shaped hotel bordered two sides of the field. The third was edged by a stand of trees and the last ran along the parking lot. It wasn't the best situation.

Aunt Peg, whose older Poodle had had more training than Eve, didn't even hesitate. She unsnapped Hope's leash and let her go. After a moment, I followed suit. Immediately, the two Poodles dashed away.

“I hope that wasn't a mistake,” I said, staring into the night. Eve and Hope were running flat out. Neither Poodle was accustomed to spending most of the day crated; now they worked off their excess energy by galloping side by side, dodging and feinting, each trying to bowl the other over with a playful shove.

“My Poodle comes when she's called.” Aunt Peg slanted me a challenging look.

“So does mine,” I muttered. “Usually.”

Peg handed me Hope's leash to hold. “Since we're just standing here, I think I'll hunt up a poop-scoop and go patrol the field. With this much of it in darkness, I imagine people think they can get away with anything. Keep an eye on those two, will you?”

“Right.”

Of course that task was easier said than done. My job was helped by the fact that the pair was staying together, but hindered by the speed with which they traversed the vast grassy area. Finally their mad dash slowed, then stopped. I watched both Poodles sniff the ground, then squat to pee.

I was about to call them back in when I saw Hope's head snap up. Her ears pricked, her attention caught by something I couldn't see. Suddenly she whipped around and took off toward the end of the building that bordered the parking lot. Eve was only a step or two behind.

“Hope, come!” I called out firmly. “Eve! Over here.”

Neither Poodle paid any attention to me. As they began to run, Aunt Peg materialized out of the shadows, poop scoop in hand.

“What's the matter?” she asked.

“I don't know. Something—”

I never got a chance to finish. A chill slithered up my spine as a piercing scream shattered the night.

A
unt Peg dropped the scoop and ran in the direction the scream had come from. She's a good person to have around in an emergency. Whatever was wrong, she'd know what to do or how to call for help.

That left me free to chase after the two Poodles. Fortunately Eve and Hope had run toward the building. They were much easier to see in the lights. The second time I called, Hope responded to her name. When she circled back toward me, the puppy came with her. I grabbed both big Poodles and snapped the leashes onto their collars.

Aunt Peg had ended up in the corner where the two wings of the hotel building met. Several other people were standing in the shadows with her. As I headed their way, doors to several of the guest rooms along the inner corridor began to open. People stuck their heads out and looked around curiously.

“What's going on?” Dale Atherton asked as I passed by. Standing in his doorway, he looked charmingly rumpled, his hair tousled, feet bare, shirt untucked. Briefly I wondered if he'd been asleep.

“I don't know yet. Someone screamed.”

“I heard that. I wonder if someone needs help.” He pulled his door shut and jogged past me toward the cluster of people in the corner.

Propelled by the two Poodles, I reached the small group only a moment after the handler did. Aunt Peg looked grim. Cliff Spellman, the club vice president, was speaking urgently on a cell phone. I looked past them and saw a body lying crumpled on the ground. A decorative planter, part of the hotel's landscaping, partially blocked my view. Taking care to keep the Poodles out of the way, I edged around the back of the group until I could see better.

The body in the shadows belonged to a woman. She looked so small that, for a moment, I thought it might be a child. Then the crimped gray hair registered in my shocked brain, followed by the red sweater and the white grooming smock. I gasped softly. Her face was turned away from me, but I still knew.

“It's Betty Jean,” I whispered. Several people looked at me and nodded.

“Must have had a heart attack,” I heard someone say.

“Maybe an aneurysm,” voiced another.

Cliff snapped his phone shut. “Help is on the way. They said they'll be here in five minutes. We'll need someone out in the parking lot to direct them this way.”

Hands shot up. People volunteered. The club pulled together, everyone eager to do what they could.

Dale had knelt down beside Betty Jean. He looked at her closely, but didn't touch. Aunt Peg, also standing nearby, kept a watchful eye on the proceedings. I sidled over to where she was standing.

“Is she alive?” I whispered.

Aunt Peg gave her head a small, negative shake.

“Are you sure?” I hated to think of Betty Jean lying there on the cold ground with none of us helping her, no one knowing what to do.

“I turned her over, I felt for a pulse. I thought maybe mouth-to-mouth . . .” Her voice, edged with unhappy resignation, trailed away. In the distance, I heard sirens. Too late now.

More people: club members, exhibitors, hotel guests, were coming out of the building to see what was going on. Cliff was busy making sure they didn't get too close. All around me, people were asking questions. No one offered any answers.

“You said it was Betty Jean,” said Aunt Peg. “I wasn't sure . . .”

I nodded. “Bertie and I saw her earlier inside the grooming room. Do you know what happened?”

“No.” My aunt's shoulders were slumped, her hands running up and down her arms as though she were cold. “I'm guessing she fell and hit her head on the planter. But nobody seems to have seen it happen.”

I thought about that as a vehicle topped by a flashing red beacon entered the hotel lot. The light's reflection skittered eerily across the dark windows of the parked cars as the ambulance pulled around the building. “Who screamed?”

“I have no idea. I suppose it could have been Betty Jean herself, although . . .” Aunt Peg left the thought unfinished, but I could guess what she was thinking. The scream we'd heard had been long and full, not cut off abruptly as Betty Jean's would have been. “Several people reached her before me. I imagine it was one of them. Finding her like that must have been quite a shock.”

“It sounded like a woman,” I said.

Peg thought for a minute. “Charlotte Kay was here. You know who she is. She's in charge of the trophy committee.”

She nodded toward a middle-aged woman who was standing off to one side now that the crowd had grown. Tears streamed down her pale face. She'd removed her glasses and was trying to wipe the moisture away with the back of her hand.

“And I thought I saw Rosalind . . .”

“Your psychic?”

Aunt Peg frowned. “I could have been wrong, though. We've only met once, briefly, earlier this evening when she checked in. And in the darkness . . .” She had another look around. “If it was her, she seems to be gone now.”

“Step back, please. Coming through.”

The crowd parted for the ambulance crew. Hastily I withdrew, pulling the two big Poodles with me. As the EMTs went to work, the crush of people closed in again. I couldn't see what was going on. I wasn't sure I wanted to.

Aunt Peg had stepped aside to confer with Cliff Spellman. After a few minutes, she returned. “There isn't anything else we can do here. Cliff will wait and talk to the police. He's called Nancy Hanlon. She's going to find Edith Jean and break the news to her.”

I gulped suddenly. Edith Jean. I'd forgotten all about her. Even in the brief time I'd known the sisters, I'd seen how clearly each identified herself as half of a pair. What would Edith Jean do now?

At least for the short term, I knew that Nancy Hanlon would make sure Edith Jean got whatever she needed. Nancy was the club president. She ran a tight ship and PCA had prospered under her leadership. She delegated judiciously, took the stewardship of the Poodle breed seriously, was known to remain calm in the face of crisis and controversy. I didn't envy her her task tonight.

Aunt Peg reached over and unwound Hope's leash from around my cold fingers. “Now what?” I said.

“I guess we go back to our rooms and go to bed.”

“But what about tomorrow? The dog show?”

“The show will go on as scheduled. Betty Jean will be missed, of course. I'm sure the club will plan some sort of tribute.”

Was that all? It didn't seem like much, in the face of this sudden, unexpected tragedy.

“This is PCA,” Aunt Peg said gently. “The national specialty. Preparations have been going on for months. People come from all over the world, they plan their vacations around the show. They look forward to it all year. Most of them have never even met Betty Jean. Right or wrong, her death won't make much of an impression on the event.”

“What about Edith Jean?” I asked. “Do you think she'll go home now? Will Bubba still show in his class? What will happen to the raffle?”

“Nancy will find out the answers to your first two questions tonight. As to the raffle, it will most certainly go on. If Edith Jean chooses to leave, the club will simply make do.” Peg looked at me meaningfully. “Perhaps with somebody new in charge.”

I guessed I should have seen that coming.

Aunt Peg and I parted for the night. As she had said, there wasn't anything more we could do. I took my puppy upstairs and went to bed.

 

 

I awoke the next morning with a vague sense of unease, though it took me a moment to remember why. Then the events of the previous night came flooding back. I hoped Edith Jean was going to be able to cope on her own. The sisters weren't young; and from what I'd seen they relied upon one another heavily. I wondered if they had family at home, someone who could look out for E.J. now that B.J. was gone.

My thoughts were cut short by the realization that once Eve was awake she needed to go outside. Exhibitors lucky enough to have rooms that opened directly onto the exercise area had been known to walk their Poodles in their pajamas. With a room on the other side of the building and up a floor, I didn't dare take such liberties.

I jumped in the shower, dressed quickly, and had Eve out behind the hotel in under fifteen minutes. The exercise area was mostly empty. The few people who were outside with their dogs seemed subdued.

Usually there was a lot of chatter going on; that morning, nobody seemed to have much to say. Most kept glancing over at the corner where Betty Jean had been found. After I'd left, the police had cordoned the area off. Yellow tape fluttered in the early morning breeze, warning onlookers to stay away. No one, including me, went near.

Business attended to, I cleaned up after Eve and took the puppy back to the room. I'd been looking forward to attending Mary Ludlow Scott's presentation that morning, but now it seemed that the club's interests would be better served if I drove over to the show site and opened up the raffle table. With no idea of where Edith Jean was, or what she might be doing, I decided I'd better assume I was in charge.

Eve went with me, as she had the day before. As we were cutting across the parking lot and heading into the building, Terry Denunzio hailed me. “I heard you had some excitement at the hotel last night.”

“That was quick.”

“Oh, honey.” Terry rolled his eyes. He loves dramatic gestures, and executes them with flair. “What are you, new around here? News travels at a dog show faster than a Beagle can scarf down a table scrap. I hear the police have been questioning suspects. Now
that's
something I wouldn't mind getting in on, especially if they send around a detective who looks like Vincent D'Onofrio.” Need I mention that Terry is a
Law and Order
addict?

“Suspects?” I stopped in my tracks. “Do they think Betty Jean was murdered?”

“Don't know yet, though I'm sure someone will fill us in shortly. Word is they've been talking to people who were there last night when she was found.”

I supposed that meant the police would get around to me eventually. I started walking again. “Those are witnesses, Terry. Not suspects. Big difference.”

“You should know, doll. How's Edith Jean holding up?”

“I don't know, I haven't seen her. I imagine she's back at the hotel, maybe making preparations to go home. That's why I'm here. I figured someone should see to the raffle table during the obedience trial.”

“Good thought. You know how those obedience people are.”

“No.” I stopped again, turned around and looked back at him. “How are they?”

“Let's just say I wouldn't leave
my
valuables lying around unattended.”

“Don't be ridiculous.” I knew that Terry, like many people who showed in breed, tended to look down on the dogs that showed in obedience. I hadn't realized that his prejudice extended to their owners as well.

“Scoff if you will, but I seem to recall an incident several years ago where something went missing early in the week.”

“Really? Something from the raffle? What was it?”

“Who remembers? It was hushed up rather quickly at the time. But I'm pretty sure it never turned up.”

As far as I knew, all the valuable stuff had gone back to the hotel the evening before with the sisters. Surely no one would have been tempted to help themselves to Poodle dish towels or key chains in our absence. I hurried inside to find out.

Since it was my call, I made the executive decision that Eve didn't have to spend the day in her crate. Instead she could lie beneath the raffle table and keep me company. My first order of duty after getting her settled was to remove the sheet and make a thorough inspection.

Unfortunately, this effort was hampered by the fact that I hadn't looked all that closely at the table the day before. With so many prizes on display, it was hard to tell if anything might be missing when I didn't have a clear idea of what should have been there in the first place. Plus, the sisters had packed some things away in boxes for the night. After pulling those items out and placing them on the table, I still had gaps to fill.

I got out the partial list I'd been carrying in my basket the day before and had a look at it. Since the point of the list, however, was to brag about the high-ticket items, noting that most were missing didn't do me much good. Those were exactly the sorts of prizes that Betty Jean and Edith Jean would have taken back to the hotel with them.

The loudspeaker came to life with a brief burst of static as the announcer welcomed the exhibitors to the annual Poodle Club of America obedience trial. Then all activity stopped for a few minutes while a club member sang the national anthem. Even the Poodles, waiting by their handlers' sides, seemed to stand at attention.

The competition began with the first class, Utility A. The majority of the people currently in the arena were down at the other end of the ring, most of them exhibitors awaiting their turn to show. With the symposium going on back at the hotel, the obedience trial hadn't drawn nearly as many spectators as agility had. If I'd had someone to mind the table, I could have taken my basket and gone prospecting for ticket sales. As it was, I couldn't do much more than watch the class and wait for someone to approach me.

In the ring, a parti-colored Toy Poodle was heeling happily at its owner's side. According to the breed standard, a Poodle had to be a solid color to be shown in conformation. Obedience, however, placed no such restrictions on its entrants. This black and white Toy, with four white feet and a black patch over one eye, was adorable.

I got so caught up in watching the little Poodle perform that it took me a minute to realize someone was making her way slowly in my direction across the wide, turf-covered expanse of the arena. I glanced over, then looked again quickly in surprise. It was Edith Jean.