Death of a Dog Whisperer (9780758284570) (14 page)

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Authors: Laurien Berenson

BOOK: Death of a Dog Whisperer (9780758284570)
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Behind me, the bitches immediately exercised prudent discretion. All four backed out of the room and away from the scene of the crime, making their escape on quiet feet so as not to draw attention to themselves.
Tar and Augie should have watched and learned. Instead the two boys were so busy arguing with one another, they didn't even seem to realize that they were being yelled at.
“I said drop it!”
I advanced on the pair like an avenging angel and snatched away the ragged cushion cover. Game
over
. At least that got their attention.
Augie looked up inquiringly, then bounced to his feet ready to continue playing. He jumped in the air and tried to grab the shredded fabric out of my hands. Rather than retreating, I leaned into his advance. As the puppy rose, he bonked his nose on the fist I'd closed around his prize.
Ow!
Augie might as well have said the word. His expression made it that clear. Confused, the puppy dropped back to all fours and waited to see what would happen next.
For the moment, I ignored him and turned to Tar. That big fool of a dog was now sitting up, wagging his tail. “What were you thinking?” I asked him sternly. “You're the adult, you're supposed to know better.”
Tar's expression never wavered. His tail continued to slap back and forth happily.
Mom's home! Mom's home! Mom's home!
I know. Why did I even bother to ask? Tar never knew better. He had a big goofy grin on his face and not a clue in the world that he'd done something wrong.
I showed him the ruined cushion cover. I put it right in front of his nose. “No!” I said firmly. Tar didn't care. He was just pleased that I was paying attention to him. It didn't seem to matter in the slightest why.
At least when I gave Augie the same stern reprimand, I got results. The puppy had the grace to look chastened when faced with the evidence of what he had done. “This isn't a toy,” I told him. Augie hung his head and looked away. It was nice to see that someone had learned something.
I gazed around the room and sighed. It was going to take me a while to clean up the mess. And then I'd need to figure out how to go about replacing the cushion that had been destroyed.
A better woman would have gotten started on all that right away. Not me. I sank to the floor where I stood.
“Come here,” I said to Augie.
I patted the rug beside me. The puppy, inferring correctly that he'd been forgiven and delighted to find himself back in favor, couldn't get there fast enough.
“How come you aren't in your crate?” I asked him. If Sam had put the puppy away before he and Kevin left that morning, this whole problem could have been avoided.
Augie gave a short, sharp bark in reply. He wiggled happily in place.
Not my fault,
he told me.
I already knew that.
I reached over and ran a practiced hand through his copious topknot and neck hair. The puppy's bands and wraps were still in place. There were no jagged holes where hair was missing, no sticky saliva causing new mats.
That discovery improved my mood enormously. The couch might have taken a hit for the team, but hairwise we had come through the melee unscathed. I've had worse days.
Chapter 14
L
ater I vacuumed up the evidence of the dogs' misdeeds and shoved an old bolster into the space where the missing couch cushion should have gone. Then I hid the whole mismatched problem under a fringed afghan. None of my efforts helped much.
If Sam had an opinion about my odd decorating choices, he didn't mention it. So I didn't bring up the fact that he had neglected to put Augie in his crate when he went out. Apparently it was just one more thing that we weren't going to discuss.
The following morning he and I switched parental duties. Sam dropped Davey at soccer camp and I strapped Kevin into the Volvo and drove to Greenwich to visit Nick's girlfriend, Diana Lee. I didn't have to worry about calling ahead. Claire had made all the arrangements for me. Not only had she set up the meeting, she'd even e-mailed me directions.
That woman was a gem. How Bob and Sam could ever have thought that she and I wouldn't get along, I have no idea.
Diana Lee lived in a multi-storey brick building only a few blocks from Greenwich Avenue. Her condominium was on the fourth floor. As Kevin and I exited the elevator, I could see through the window at the end of the hallway that the view—looking out over Long Island Sound—was spectacular.
Diana answered the door wearing a silk sundress and sandals. Long blond hair, fastened with tortoiseshell clips above her ears, fell in rippling waves to the middle of her back. Her manicure and pedicure were both flawless; the nails on her fingers and toes were painted a matching shade of hot pink.
I had on cropped pants and sneakers, in case you were wondering. My linen shirt had been tucked in when I left home and my hair was mostly clean. By my standards, I was having a good day.
Standing beside me, small hand clasped firmly in mine, Kevin looked perfectly presentable too. He was wearing his favorite blue T-shirt and matching shorts. All the Velcro clips on his sneaks were neatly fastened. I had let Kev ring the doorbell and he had a big smile on his face when Diana opened the door.
It didn't matter. We did not make a good first impression.
“Oh,” she said, looking at the two of us like we were refugees from a traveling circus. “I was only expecting an adult.”
“I'm Melanie,” I said. I released Kev's fingers and held out my hand. “And this is my son Kevin.”
Diana glanced at my outstretched hand like she thought I might be carrying something contagious. “Sorry,” she said, holding up her own hands and backing away. “I don't do sticky.”
“We don't either,” I said brightly.
Kev was freshly scrubbed. Even his hair was combed. Maybe I'm a little biased, but it was hard to see how anyone could find fault with his appearance.
Even so, Diana's expression remained dubious.
“May we come in?” I asked.
“Um . . . look.”
Since she was clearly stalling for time, I did look. Her condo was all bare floors and stark planes. The walls were white; so was the upholstered furniture. Her tables were fashioned of chrome and glass. Everywhere I gazed, I saw breakable objects and sharp edges. If there was a comfortable place to sit down in that apartment, I couldn't find it.
“I'm not child proofed,” Diana said.
“I'll hold Kevin's hand,” I told her.
She wrinkled her nose delicately. “I don't like kids.”
“I can tell.” I nodded down at Kevin. “So can he, for that matter.”
That got her interest. “He can?”
“Of course. Why wouldn't he?”
Just to make me look bad, Kevin favored Diana with another toothy grin. Obviously he's too young to take rejection seriously.
“I don't know. I thought . . . maybe he didn't understand yet.”
“He talks too,” I mentioned.
Diana looked at Kev and arranged her features into a fake-looking smile. “Can you make him say hello?”
Frickin' A, I wanted to say. He's a child, not a parrot. But before I had a chance to answer, Kevin took matters into his own hands.
“Hello,” he said happily, waving his free hand up at Diana. “Pretty lady!”
“Oh my.” Diana looked briefly startled. Then she laughed. “I didn't expect that.”
“I didn't either,” I told her truthfully.
When it comes to appearances, Kev isn't much of a connoisseur. The adults he's drawn to are usually those holding toys or cookies. Maybe he'd been attracted by the mango-colored silk dress or the ornate fake flowers decorating Diana's sandals. Either way, I figured I ought to strengthen my grip on his small hand.
Diana leaned down. There was still a good four to five feet between them, but at least now she was on Kevin's level. “Thank you,” she said.
“ 'Welcome,” Kevin chirped, beaming another smile. He was full of surprises this morning.
“Your son has very nice manners.”
“Sometimes,” I said.
Rarely, I thought to myself. But who was I to argue with success? At the rate he was going, Kev would be the one who charmed our way in the door.
“Look,” I said, holding up the ever-present diaper bag, “I've brought some of his favorite toys with me. Kev can sit on the floor and play while we talk. He won't be any trouble at all.”
Diana still didn't look entirely convinced. “What if he gets . . . cranky?”
I shrugged. “Then we'll leave.”
“Okay. I guess.” She stepped back out of the doorway and we finally entered the condo. “But you'll keep an eye on him, right?”
“Absolutely.”
“And you won't give him any juice boxes, or string cheese, or fruity things to eat.”
“None at all,” I agreed solemnly. Whatever worked.
Diana and I took seats on either side of a glass-topped table. My chair must have been artistically designed, because it certainly wasn't built for practicality. Narrow and slippery, it should have come with arms for me to hold on to. And maybe a seat belt.
Luckily Kevin had no such concerns. As soon as I unpacked his Matchbox cars, the toddler was happy to find a spot on the shiny tile floor. He giggled with delight as the cars zoomed over the highly polished surface. I'd never seen them move so fast before, and I was pretty sure Kev hadn't either.
“Claire said you wanted to talk to me about Nick,” Diana said. She kept a wary eye on the child beneath the table as if she was half-afraid that he might leave fingerprints on the chrome table legs, or attempt to blow his nose on her silk dress. “What do you want to know?”
“What went wrong,” I said flatly. “I want to know why Nick is dead.”
“Then you've come to the wrong place because I have no idea.” Diana shook her head. “I mean, really
no
idea. It's not like Nick ever had anything worth stealing.”
“The police don't think there was a break-in,” I told her. “And neither does Claire.”
“Claire.” Diana sniffed dismissively, as if she wouldn't expect Nick's sister to be on top of anything. Her fingers drummed on the tabletop, nails clicking on the glass, hand refusing to stay still. I wondered if she was wishing for a cigarette.
“Tell me about your relationship with Nick,” I said. “How long were you together?”
“We met over the winter. In Whole Foods of all places.”
“Better than a bar,” I said.
“Oh, I agree. Nick was buying some sort of disgusting, all-natural, dog food.” She shuddered lightly. “I was there for the fresh produce. We met in the checkout line.”
“I guess you don't like dogs,” I said.
“Some dogs are okay. If they belong to other people. And they're small. And quiet. You know.”
Actually I didn't. But what I did know, suddenly, was that this woman would never have been Nick Walden's soul mate.
“How did you get along with Thor and Jojo?” I asked curiously.
“Nick was a dog
trainer
.”
“Yes, I know.”
“So he trained those two to stay away from me. And then we were all happy.”
Oh, I thought, then reconsidered. Make that oh my.
“That's great,” I said. “That you and Nick were happy together.”
Diana's eyes narrowed. “You sound like you're doubting me.”
“Not at all. Just asking.”
“Of course we were happy. We wouldn't have stayed together otherwise. Nick's business was growing. He was someone who was going places.”
Interesting juxtaposition, I thought. “And that was important to you?”
“Of course it was important. I want to marry a successful man, not just one who can make a living.”
“Were you and Nick . . . talking about getting married?” I asked.
“Not in so many words. But I'm twenty-eight years old. I've had enough
boy
friends. If I don't see the possibility of a future with a man, what's the point of even starting something?”
“I see. Then I guess what I heard was wrong.”
Diana looked up. Her fingers stilled. She looked like a beautiful doe, sniffing the wind and sensing danger.
“What did you hear?”
“That your relationship with Nick wasn't entirely exclusive.”
“Who told you that?” Diana wanted to know.
I just shrugged.
“Nick was a cute guy. In his line of work, he got offers. And I guess maybe he thought he still had a few wild oats to sow before settling down.”
“Did that bother you?”
“It might have if I thought about it,” Diana said firmly. “I chose not to.”
She was lying, I realized as her gaze slipped away from mine. Not only that, but the nails were tapping on the table again.
“You wouldn't happen to have any idea who was with Nick the night he was killed, would you?” I asked.
“No,” Diana snapped. “None.”
“What about you? What were you doing that night?”
“I was here.”
“Alone?”
Diana's gaze hardened. “Yes, I was by myself. Just because Nick only believed in monogamy when it suited him to do so, doesn't mean that I felt the same way.”
“You could have been out with girlfriends,” I pointed out.
“I wasn't.”
Diana looked smug. I wondered whether it had occurred to her that in her rush to castigate Nick for his behavior while defending her own, she'd also managed to establish the fact that she had no alibi for the night of his death.
“Do you know anyone who might have wanted to hurt Nick?” I asked.
She didn't answer right away. I wouldn't have expected the question to require that much thought. Surely the police would have asked her the same thing.
Kevin, meanwhile, was now pushing a Matchbox car over my shoe and up my shin. He was growing bored. I needed to get this conversation wrapped up.
“Taran Black,” she said finally. “If I had to pick someone, he'd be the one.”
“Who is he?”
“An old friend of Nick's who borrowed some money from him last year. He promised to repay Nick but he never did.”
“Was it a large sum of money?”
“Big enough, I suppose. I know that Nick wanted it back. He and Taran fought about it a couple of times.”
“Anyone else?”
“No.” Diana shook her head. “Nick was the kind of guy who got along with everyone. Which was why I always thought it was so odd what he chose to do for a living.”
“Odd in what way?”
“Nick had charisma. People were drawn to him. I used to see it all the time. He could have had his choice of good careers. Sales, or maybe something in marketing. But instead of putting his talents to good use, he chose to waste them on dogs. I mean really,
dogs
.” She smirked. “Can you imagine it?”
“Actually I can,” I said. “I happen to like dogs too.”
Diana blew out a breath and looked exasperated. Like she'd expected us to be reading from the same script and I'd had the temerity to disappoint her.
“Okay sure, you
like
dogs,” she said. “But could you imagine devoting your whole life to them?”
I thought of Aunt Peg, and the dozens of other dedicated breeders and exhibitors I'd met at the shows. Nick might have taken a different approach, but he was far from the only person I knew who held his dogs in the same high esteem as he did people.
“I live with six Standard Poodles,” I told her. “They outnumber both the kids and the adults at my house.”
Kev was now standing beside my chair, hugging my knee. I suspected he needed a diaper change. The mere thought would probably give my hostess a fit of the vapors.
“Kids?” she repeated. “You have others?”
“Just one,” I replied. “Two, total.” As I stood up, Kevin lifted his arms. I reached down and swung him up onto my hip. I couldn't resist adding, “So far.”
“Good Lord, you might have more?”
“You never know,” I said cheerfully.
“Dogs
and
children.” She shuddered delicately. “You must live in a barn.”
“Some days it feels that way,” I admitted.
“Pretty lady,” Kevin said a few minutes later as we rode the elevator down to the ground floor. “Nice.”
“You're too easy,” I told him with a laugh. “You like everybody.”
That thought reminded me of Nick. The more time I'd spent in Diana's company, the harder it had become to imagine the two of them together. If she had ultimately forced Nick to choose between her and his canine companions, I was betting that he'd have opted for Thor and Jojo.

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