Authors: Laurien Berenson

Doggie Day Care Murder (20 page)

BOOK: Doggie Day Care Murder

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“He has an untrained Airedale and a moustache,” I said. “And on top of that he drives a Hummer. What do you think?”

Sam was convinced that everyone who drove a Hummer had an Arnold complex. So he got my point.

“Plan to be gone long?” he asked.

“I guess that depends how talkative Roger Cavanaugh feels. I need to ask him some questions about Pine Ridge. And I found out earlier today that he only lives about a mile from here. It's a beautiful evening. I figured Faith and I would take a stroll over and see if he's home.”

“You don't want to call first?”

“And give him a chance to decline? No thanks.” I grinned. “I like the element of surprise.”

Sam just shook his head. “You have your phone with you?”

I patted my pocket.

“Battery charged?”

He knew me so well.

I got out the phone and had a look.

“Yup, we're good.”

Sam looked down at Faith. The Poodle gazed up at him adoringly.

“You take care,” he said.

Faith wagged her tail. It was a firmer promise than he would have gotten from me and Sam knew it.

I
'd really like to think that I'm good at what I do, but the truth of the matter is, some days you just get lucky.

It was, as I'd told Sam, a beautiful evening for a walk. There aren't any sidewalks in the area of north Stamford where we live, but there's ample room for strolling. The houses are set back from the road on spacious, tree-lined lots, and the streets see little traffic. It's the kind of neighborhood where mothers can still send their children out to play on a summer night without worrying that something will happen to them.

As Faith and I walked along the edge of the road past low stone walls and manicured hedges, we saw a couple kids in a yard eating ice cream and, farther down, two more tossing around a baseball. We also passed numerous loose dogs. A black Lab, a Boxer, and a mutt of indeterminate origin were all out investigating the evening's sights and sounds.

Faith knew better than to strain at her leash, but I did hear her whine softly. It had to be hard being the only dog who was required to behave when all the others in the vicinity were running free.

So I debated. At that point, we'd been walking for ten minutes and not a single car had gone by. Not only that, but Faith was great at obeying voice commands. Even if we weren't physically attached, I knew she wouldn't stop listening to me.

I reached down and unsnapped the leash. Faith looked up at me in surprise.

“Go on,” I said. “Have some fun. Just watch out for cars and don't get into any trouble.”

With a delighted yip, the big Poodle flipped her tail high in the air and took off. Within seconds, she'd joined up with the Lab and the two of them were playing tagâscooting, running, and chasing each other from one large yard to the next.

I'd paused to pull the paper out of my pocket and check Cavanaugh's address when a third dog appeared to join the game. A series of short, mid-pitched barks alerted me to the new arrival and I looked up to find that the Airedale, Logan, now had Faith on the fly.

For a moment I was tempted to call her back to my side. Then she feinted and ducked, spinning a quick circle that brought her up behind the other dog. Now it was her turn to chase and Logan's to run.

With her rounded topknot and pom-ponned tail, Faith might have looked dainty, but she was no wuss. In a game of canine give-and-take, she gave as good as she got. She caught up with Logan and gave him a strong nudge with her chest that sent him flying head over heels.

The Airedale rolled in the grass and came up grinning. He caught his balance and shot back after her. The Lab, now panting heavily, saw his chance to pull out of the game and flopped down under a tree.

I broke into a jog as Faith and Logan went barreling down the road together. Both dogs were drunk with the sheer delight of freedom and racing to see who was fastest. I knew that Faith would return to my side eventually, but in the meantime, I didn't want to lose sight of her.

Two houses up, the front door to a slate gray Georgian Colonial drew open. Roger Cavanaugh appeared in the doorway. He leaned out and looked both ways, up and down the street.

“Hey, Logan, where are you? Time to come home, boy!”

Good thing Aunt Peg wasn't with me. Otherwise, Cavanaugh would have been in for a lecture on the dangers of letting a dog roam unattended. Fortunately, I could overlook such a transgression.

He stepped outside onto a front walk that was lined with a riotous display of colorful spring flowers. The only way my garden was ever going to look that good was in my dreams.

Last time I'd seen him, Cavanaugh had been wearing a suit. Now, while he still had on a button-down shirt, he'd opened the collar and rolled back the sleeves. Light wool trousers had been replaced by pleated shorts, and his feet were shoved into a pair of worn deck shoes.

I'd imagined him as a man without a family. Otherwise, why would he leave his dog at day care? The spotless yard and the single car sitting in the driveway near the garage seemed to support my assumption. As did the fact that he was the one in charge of retrieving the recalcitrant Airedale.

Cavanaugh spotted Logan and Faith as they shot across his neighbor's lawn. He fitted his fingers to his lips and gave a loud whistle. The Airedale didn't even lift an ear in response. Either he didn't think the hail was intended for him or else he didn't care.

I increased my pace and was now running to catch up. With luck, pounds were melting away with every step.

Cavanaugh saw me coming and walked out to the road to meet me. When I slowed to a walk ten feet away, I had a stitch in my side. Yet another reminder that my pre-pregnancy body was nothing more than a fond memory.

The dynamic duo zigged and zagged across the street and began to lope figure-eights around a pair of tree trunks. Long pink tongues lolled from both their mouths. In another minute or two, they'd have succeeded in wearing each other out.

“Is that your Poodle?” Cavanaugh asked.

“Yes. If I call her, she'll come. Will your dog follow?”

“Who knows?” He shrugged. “Maybe. He's a terrier. They have minds of their own.”

Especially when their owners haven't bothered to train them, I thought snidely.

I checked both ways for cars. The road was still empty.

“Faith, come!” I called.

The Poodle's head came up. She skidded to a stop. After casting a regretful look in Logan's direction, she turned away and began to trot toward me.

Having lost his running partner, the Airedale slowed his pace, then stopped too. He looked around, confused. Clearly, he was wondering what had brought his game to such a precipitous end.

“Call him,” I prompted.

Cavanaugh just stood there.

“Go on,” I said. “Then when he comes you can tell him what a good dog he is.”

“If he was a good dog,” he grumbled, “he would have come five minutes ago.”

But he whistled again anyway, and after a moment's hesitation, the Airedale scrambled to catch up with Faith. The two dogs crossed back to our side of the road. When Faith approached, I gave her an enthusiastic pat and snapped the leash back onto her collar.

She wriggled with delight and pressed up against my side. Since Kevin was born, Faith and I haven't spent nearly as much time together as we used to. I missed our walks and I was sure she did too.

Cavanaugh, meanwhile, threaded his fingers through Logan's sturdy leather collar. He hauled the Airedale to his side and pushed him into a sitting position. Then he looked up and stared at me thoughtfully.

“Don't I know you from somewhere?”

“Pine Ridge,” I said. “We met thereâbrieflyâa couple of weeks ago.”

“Right.” He nodded. The crease in his brow eased. “That's it. I knew you looked familiar. I don't know whether it's a curse or a blessing, but I never forget a face.”

“Count yourself lucky. I have an aunt who's not great with faces, but who never forgets a dog.”

Cavanaugh laughed out loud. “That's pretty funny. There's something that would be a curse. Never forgets a dog, indeed.”

He chuckled by himself for a full thirty seconds. I hadn't realized I was that witty. Logan, meanwhile, took advantage of his owner's distraction to stand up and wander away.

“Sorry,” he said when he'd finally stopped, “but I don't remember your name.”

“Melanie Travis.”

I would have introduced Faith, too, but he didn't seem like the type to appreciate the gesture and I was afraid it might set off his laughter again.

“Pleased to meet you. I'm Roger Cavanaugh. Some coincidence. I guess you must live around here?”

“Not too far,” I replied. “Although our meeting tonight isn't exactly a coincidence. I walked this way on purpose. I was hoping I might be able to ask you a few questions.”

Cavanaugh went from jovial to wary in the blink of an eye. “Could be, I guess. It depends what they're about.”

“Pine Ridge Canine Care Center. And Steve and Candy Pine, and why Steve might have gotten himself killed.”

Before I'd finished speaking, Cavanaugh was already shaking his head. “Just because I leave my dog there a couple times a week, I don't know what makes you think I'd know anything about that.”

“If that was the extent of your involvement with Pine Ridge, you probably wouldn't.” I tried out what I hoped was an ingratiating smile. “But that's not what I've heard.”

He shoved his hands in his pocket and rocked back on his heels. “Who've you been talking to? Candy?”

Under the circumstances, that seemed to be the answer likely to win me the most points, so I nodded.

“Yeah, well, sometimes she says more than she should.”

“I understand that you're a partner in the business.”

“A
silent
partner. At least that's the way the deal was described when it was brought to me. Silent means I don't have to get involved in the day-to-day running of the place. And it especially means that when something goes wrong, it's not my problem.”

Yeah right. Cavanaugh might profess a lack of concern, but I wasn't buying it. He hadn't gotten this house or that Hummer by being stupid.

“Considering that you have a financial interest in Pine Ridge,” I said, “I would think that you might find the recent events there to be pretty upsetting.”

“In what way?”

“For one thing, Steve was running the place, and now he's gone. That has to affect the business, and maybe the viability of your investment.”

Cavanaugh shrugged. The elaborate movement looked more scripted than careless.

“Steve was good. He really kept on top of things. But Candy's no slouch either. I don't have any reason to believe that the facility will suffer under her management. In fact, maybe just the opposite.”

Interesting, I thought. None of the employees I'd spoken to would have agreed with him.

“I don't suppose you've thought about stepping in and taking a management position yourself?”

“Why would I want to do something like that? For one thing, I already have a job. For another, I don't know anything about taking care of dogs.”

That was easy enough to believe. Case in point: since the last time Cavanaugh had paid any attention to his own dog, Logan had lowered his nose to the ground and sniffed his way halfway down the block.

Faith, meanwhile, was lying down in the grass beside my feet, her long, slender muzzle resting lightly on her front feet. I could see her dark eyes moving; she was following the Airedale's progress. But she made no attempt to get up and join him.

“Besides, that's not the way the deal went down. Steve and Candy had all the manpower they needed. What they didn't have enough of, was cash. That's where I came in. I like to keep an eye out for a likely investment and Pine Ridge rang all the right bells. But my involvement in the place was financial, nothing more. That's the way the Pines wanted it, and the arrangement suited me as well.”

“It sounds like everyone knew what they were doing,” I said. “So what went wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

Did he really have to ask?

Apparently he did. Cavanaugh was waiting for me to reply.

“Steve's dead. To me that indicates that there must have been a problem somewhere.”

“I guess. But I wouldn't assume that it had anything to do with the business. Steve had a life outside of work, you know. Friends, girlfriends . . . that guy had an eye for the ladies, and they didn't ignore him either, if you know what I mean. It wouldn't surprise me if that's what got him into trouble.”

“Any particular lady friend strike you as trouble?” I asked curiously.

Cavanaugh quickly shook his head. “That's not the kind of thing I would know. Steve might have thrown out the occasional tidbit concerning his social life, but he didn't offer details and I didn't ask for them. As long as Pine Ridge was running smoothly, that's all I cared about.”

I wasn't entirely convinced of that, but Cavanaugh clearly didn't intend to elaborate. He looked down, then around, and even checked behind himself. When he realized Logan was missing, he swore under his breath.

“Over there,” I said, gesturing down the block. The Airedale was lifting his leg on a neighbor's tree.

“Damn dog. Logan, you idiot, get over here!”

“He's not going to come if you're already yelling at him,” I said mildly. “Why would he?”

“Because he's supposed to do what he's told!”

Faith flattened her ears against her head at the man's tone. Frankly, I felt the same way.

BOOK: Doggie Day Care Murder

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