Authors: Laurien Berenson

Dog Eat Dog (22 page)

BOOK: Dog Eat Dog

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“I think he'd be flattered.” I reached across the bar, picked up a cocktail napkin and wrote down Frank's telephone number. “Go ahead and try it. My brother's not the most mature person in the world, but he's a pretty nice guy.”

“When it comes right down to it, they're all immature, aren't they?” Suddenly looking awfully world weary for one so young, Beth picked up the napkin and pocketed it. “Listen, can I get you something to drink?”

“Sure, a draft would be good.”

“Make that two,” said Aunt Peg, coming up behind me. “Let's move over to a table, shall we?”

She waited until Beth had served the beers, then said, “Now, tell me everything you found out.”

It was a big order for a very small amount of information. I repeated what Beth had told me. “I don't know,” I said at the end. “If I was accusing another woman of having an affair with my husband, I can think of a lot of things I might call her, but stupid isn't necessarily one of them.”

“What if Bertie believes Louis is going to divorce Sharon and marry her?”

I shrugged and took a swallow of beer. The mug was cold, the beer colder still, and it went down very easily. “Bertie doesn't strike me as the kind of woman who's in any hurry to get married. At the moment, she's too interested in building her career.”

That reminded me of something else I'd heard. “Speaking of putting things off until later, did you know Penny Romano is trying to get pregnant?”

“At her age?” Aunt Peg sniffed. “I doubt it. That woman's at least forty, and I'm being generous.”

When it came to dogs, Aunt Peg kept up with all the latest medical developments. Her magazine rack was filled with newsletters from Cornell and the University of Pennsylvania. But where human fertility was concerned, recent advances had obviously passed by unnoticed.

“She's not too old. Not these days. Anyway, they said they'd been working on it. They're probably seeing a fertility specialist.”

“If the doctor has any sense, he'll enroll her in
A.A.
first thing,” Aunt Peg said briskly. “Now enough about that.” She'd never had any children of her own, and couldn't be bothered faking an interest in anyone else's.

“I'll have you know I'm finding this whole situation extremely irritating. We've done nothing but go around in circles. The problem with trying to find Monica's killer is not that we don't have enough clues, we have too many.”

I nodded in agreement. “Everybody had a secret. What we need to figure out is who thought their secret was worth killing over.”

Twenty-eight

“Who had the most to lose?” asked Aunt Peg.

“Cy,” I said. The answer seemed obvious. “He's put a lot of money into Spot's career. If word got out that the dog had had his bite fixed, Cy might as well have poured it down the drain.”

“That's true,” Aunt Peg agreed. “But Cy and Barbara are very well off. I imagine they could take a loss like that in stride. Besides, I happen to believe that there are plenty of things more valuable than money.”

Only because you have enough, I was tempted to retort. Wisely, I kept those thoughts to myself.

“You mean like Lydia's good name?”

“Precisely. She is president of Belle Haven. We may not be the largest club, but in certain circles, we're very well regarded. Lydia can be quite forceful when she wants to be, and the fact that she cut a corner or two doesn't necessarily surprise me.”

“But is she capable of murder?”

“I imagine almost anyone is capable of committing murder if they feel they have no choice. If the
A.K.C.
were to have proof that a signature had been falsified on the litter registration, they would revoke all showing and breeding privileges. For someone like Lydia, that would be a tremendous blow.”

All right,” I said, sipping at my beer. “So Lydia had a pretty solid motive. And I still think Cy did, too. What about the Heinses?”

“I suppose they stood to lose their dignity,” Aunt Peg said slowly. “What little Joanne hadn't robbed them of already. Do you see them killing over that?”

“No.” In truth, I couldn't imagine either Paul or Darla hurting a fly.

“Which brings us to Joanne, herself.”

“She's young and strong enough to have done it fairly easily. And based upon what she did to the Heinses, I'd have to say that she seems to be lacking in basic human compassion.” I stopped and shook my head. “But think about motive for a minute. Her secret was pretty much out of the bag already. We know she told Monica and Barbara, and she discussed it with me quite readily.”

“She was justifying again.” Aunt Peg frowned mightily. It was obvious Joanne wasn't one of her favorite people. “If that girl isn't stopped, she'll justify her way right onto the Board.”

On TV, a hockey player scored. The trio of patrons at the bar erupted into cheers.

“We haven't talked about Mark and Penny yet,” said Peg.

“Unless I'm missing something, they didn't have much of a motive either. Like Joanne, their secret was out in the open. Almost everyone seems aware of Penny's drinking problem. I can't possibly see how killing Monica would help.”

“Which brings us around to perhaps where we should have started: Louis and Sharon.”

“And Bertie, don't forget about her.”

“Hardly,” Aunt Peg said drily. “Of all the club members who were there that night, she's the newest, and probably the one I know least. What's your take on her?”

“I doubt I've learned anything that you don't already know. Everyone else I've spoken to has at least professed to want to help. Not Bertie. Whenever I try to ask her anything, she immediately goes on the defensive. She says she never received anything from Monica.”

“Nor did Louis, if we're inclined to believe the two of them.”

“If they are having an affair,” I said, “how much would they stand to lose?”

“In Louis's case, maybe his marriage.”

“Except that we're supposing Sharon already knows what's going on. Otherwise, what would she and Bertie have been fighting about?”

“Good question.” Aunt Peg drained the last of her beer. “Monica really did manage to tie this club up in knots, didn't she? Maybe it's like that Agatha Christie book and they all acted together.”

I had to laugh. “The only person who would buy that theory is someone who's never been to a meeting. The members of the Belle Haven Club can't even agree on how much they should charge for an entry fee. The thought of them acting together to plot a murder is ludicrous.”

I fished a couple of dollar bills out of my purse and left them on the table as a tip, then followed Aunt Peg out. We didn't seem to be much closer to finding Monica's murderer, but on the other hand, there was a whole month before the next Belle Haven Kennel Club meeting.

That alone was something to smile about.

Wednesday, I awoke to the sound of birds singing in the trees. The sky was a clear, cerulean blue and the forecast promised a temperature in the seventies. I told Davey he could wear shorts, then had to scoot around under his bed pulling out storage boxes to find a pair.

Dressed like summer was just around the corner, my son took Faith out into the back yard for a game of catch. I was busy pushing up storm windows and pulling down screens when Bob arrived. He let himself in and trooped upstairs to my bedroom.

“Here, let me help.”

He strode across the room, reached arms around me to grasp a screen that was sticking, and forced it down where it belonged. There was an awkward moment when he realized he was standing with his arms around me, then we both retreated quickly. Bob sat down on the bed; I went to work on the next window.

“Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if I hadn't left?” he asked.

“Not.”

“Never?”

“I used to,” I said quietly. “But not anymore. There was a time when I'd have given anything to have you back. I guess I was just that desperate.”

“Maybe you loved me that much.”

“Maybe I did.” I turned to face him. “That was a long time ago.”

“I don't want us to be adversaries, Mel.”

“We're notâ”

“Don't argue, okay? Let me say what I came here to say. Davey's a great kid, and I know I have you to thank. Maybe I could have made things easier on you. No, strike that. I
know
I could have made things easier.

“But I was young and I had a lot of growing up to do. I thought just because I had a job, and a house, and a family, I was an adult. But I wasn't. I guess the way I acted proved that. I know you won't believe this, but meeting Jennifer has made a tremendous difference in my life. For the first time, I'm learning how to be the grown-up in a relationship, how to take responsibility. It isn't easy.”

As if this was news to me.

“I'm very happy for you, Bob.” And I was, truly. But after two and a half weeks in my ex-husband's company, I was ready for him to pack up his newfound maturity and take it back to Texas.

“You've been here for a while now,” I said, finishing off the last window. “I guess Jennifer must be missing you.”

“So she says.” Bob tried not to look too pleased, but didn't succeed. “We talk on the phone.”

I walked out into the hall and started down the stairs. Bob followed along behind. “I bet she's wondering when you're coming homeâ”

“Daddy!” Davey shrieked from the foot of the stairs. Faith leapt up, waved her front paws in the air and barked in accompaniment. “When did you get here?”

“Just a little while ago. Guess what?”

“What?” Davey grinned delightedly.

“I've got a surprise.”

“For me?”

“For you and Mommy. It's a secret.”

I continued past them and went into the kitchen. The last thing I needed was to hear any more secrets. There was a bag of groceries sitting on the counter that hadn't been there earlier.

I opened it up and found cold cuts, onion rolls, a jar of my favorite sweet pickles, and a rubber chew toy for Faith. Our surprise, unless I missed my guess. I got out plates, napkins, mayo, and mustard and went to work.

Lunch was an odd meal. It started with the three of us sitting around the kitchen table, and Faith lying next to Davey's chair where hand-outs were most likely to come her way. Five minutes into the meal, Davey got up and ran to the front door.

I hadn't heard anything, and neither had Faith. She got up and went along anyway. Davey was back thirty seconds later. He looked at Bob, and shook his head.

“What?” I asked.

“You'll see!” cried Davey, laughing.

Bob merely grinned.

The first time that happened, I was mildly curious. The second, I was beginning to get annoyed. Especially as whatever was going on, had Davey too excited to eat. He dropped half his sandwich on the third trip and I watched as Faith gobbled it up.

“That's it,” I said. “Sit at the table until you're finished.”

“I can't!” Davey wailed. “I might miss it.”

“What?”

Outside, a horn gave two sharp toots. In an instant, Davey was up and running again. Faith went flying after him.

I looked at Bob. “Who's here?”

“Let's go see.”

There was an unfamiliar car in the driveway: a top of the line Volvo station wagon, with silver metallic paint and wrap-around lights. The driver was barely visible behind the tinted windshield. He was wearing a sports jacket and sunglasses and didn't look like anyone I knew.

“So,” Bob said grandly. “What do you think?”

“Who is he?” I hissed under my breath.

“Not him,” Bob said, as the man climbed out. “The car. What do you think?”

“It's very nice. Bob, what's going on?”

“Surprise!”

I frowned, feeling very confused. “Surprise what?”

“Mommy, look!”

I turned in time to see Davey open the station wagon's door and scoot inside. Faith quickly followed. “Davey, wait!”

The sound of the horn cut me off. Davey leaned out the open window and waved.

“I'm sorry,” I told the driver of the car, as I hurried past him. “I'll have my son out of there in just a second.” I didn't even dare mention the dog. Faith had hopped over the seat and was exploring the back of the station wagon. I hoped her feet weren't too dirty.

The man grinned and shrugged, like he wasn't bothered in the slightest. Was the whole world crazy, or was it just me?

“Mel, wait!” said Bob. “You don't get it.”

“Of course I don't get it.” I stopped next to the Volvo's shiny new hood and blew out an exasperated breath. “What's going on?”

“This is your new car.”

“Oh, good.” Then I realized what he'd said. “My
what?”

“Your new car. I bought it for you yesterday.”

I sagged back against the fender. The metal felt smooth and unblemished beneath my hands. New paint, no dings, no rust. The engine probably worked, too. Holy moly, a new car. My new car.

“Are you kidding?”

Bob shook his head.

I ran my fingers over the side-view mirror. Remote control. When my old Volvo had been manufactured they hadn't even invented that. The windshield was gleaming, and so was everything else. I stuck my head inside where Davey and Faith were tumbling around on the leather seats. Damn, it even smelled good.

Reluctantly I pulled back out and straightened. “I can't accept it.”

It killed me to say it, but it had to be done. Bob had spent the last two weeks trying to buy Davey's affection and compliance, now he was trying to buy mine. There was no way I was going to let him bribe me into negotiating custody rights for my son.

“Sure you can,” Bob said easily. “Besides, you pretty much have to. I traded in your old car.”

“You did
what?”

Bob reached in his pocket and produced a Volvo key. He must have slipped it off my key chain earlier. “Mr. Krup-nick here was kind enough to offer to drive out and make the trade.”

“Bob,” I said quickly, “we need to talk.”

“Okay. We'll talk while we drive. Let's take her out for a spin.”

“Yea!” cried Davey.

He'd gotten out of the new car and was turning cartwheels in the yard. Faith ran circles around all of us, barking like a fool. A neighbor, driving by on the road, slowed to see what was happening. I felt like Alice, spinning down into Wonderland. Any minute now, the red queen was going to show up and yell “Off with her head!”

“No, now,” I said firmly. “We need to talk now.”

“What's the matter?” Bob reached out and took my hand. “This is a present. I want you to have it.”

“I can't. It's too much.”

BOOK: Dog Eat Dog

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