Hounded to Death (20 page)

Bertie opened her eyes. Her fingers curled upward; her hands clenched into fists. Her inner harmony was receding too.

“Seriously. That's two people in two days. And whoever was responsible for those attacks is probably still here among us.”

“Wow.” Alana exhaled. “I wonder who will be next.”

“Nobody, if we're lucky,” I said. “That's why we were hoping you might be willing to answer a couple of questions.”

“I already told Detective Wayne everything.”

“
Everything
?” Bertie repeated skeptically. “Or everything that cast you in a flattering light?”

“Like you should talk.” Alana sniffed. “Let's just say that I told him everything I wanted him to know. That's almost the same thing.”

A rather warped view of things in my opinion. But then, considering my track record with the authorities, who was I to throw stones?

“Tell us the parts you didn't tell Detective Wayne,” I invited.

Alana pushed her lower lip out in a pout. No doubt she thought she looked charming, but the effect was lost on me.

“Why should I?”

“Because you love to gossip,” said Bertie. “Face it, it's what you do.”

Alana giggled. “Not about myself!”

“That's not what I heard,” I said. “Bertie came back from a hot rock massage yesterday with some pretty interesting tidbits about your sexual escapades—”

I'd been referring to the business between Alana and Sam. I guess on some level I'd been hoping that a mention of her previous girl talk might loosen Alana up. But to my surprise, she went positively pale.

“Who told you about that?” she demanded.

About
what
? I wondered. I wasn't about to concede that Alana had lost me, but I had no idea what she was talking about. What was I missing? What did she think I knew?

“Damn,” said Bertie.

She was quicker on the uptake than I was. Maybe I was missing out on something by not meditating.

“I can't believe I didn't put it together yesterday. You and Charles?”

Holy moly, I thought. That was serious.

“Why not?” said Alana. “He was hot.”

And now he was dead.

“F
or starters,” I said, “he was married.”

Alana tossed her head. “Like that matters.”

It did to some of us.

Alana and Sam. I ground my teeth at the thought of the two of them together.

“
Charles
?” Bertie said again. “Surely you couldn't have been that desperate.”

“Desperation had nothing to do with it. Charles and I had a lot in common. We were soul mates.”

“Next you'll be telling us you loved each other,” I said dryly.

“You're not really that naïve, are you? Love had nothing to do with our relationship. It didn't need to. We had mutual respect, mutual desire. Believe me, that was enough. And for a man his age, Charles had plenty of energy…if you know what I mean.”

Yup, I thought. We did.

This new information rearranged things. It no longer looked like mere chance that Alana had been the last person to see Charles alive. And perhaps it explained where his missing clothes had gone.

“Tell us about Tuesday night,” I said.

“I already did.”

“Tell us the truth this time.”

Alana looked at Bertie. “Is she always this rude?”

“When she needs to be,” Bertie said complacently.

“This glade is supposed to be a place of peace and spiritual harmony.”

Like that was going to stop me.

“Just tell us what we want to know,” I said. “And we'll leave you alone to realign your chakras.”

“My chakras may never recover. First Charles's murder, and now this. You're treating me like I was some sort of suspect.”

“You were the last person to see Charles alive,” I said. “And you were having an illicit affair with him. The police would have a field day with information like that.”

“So now you're threatening me?”

“I'm sure Melanie didn't mean it that way.” Bertie was ever the peacemaker.

“Yes, I did.”

“Besides,” said Alana, “you're overlooking one important point.
I
wasn't the last person with Charles that night. The murderer was.”

“Why don't you tell us about it?”

“If I do, will you promise to go away?”

“Scout's honor.”

Alana looked dubious.

I doubted she was ever a Girl Scout. But then, just for the record, neither was I.

She heaved a sigh of resignation. Just in case we weren't already aware that this was a
huge
imposition. Then finally she began to talk.

“I went to the hot tub that night to meet Charles. He was already there, waiting for me. With all the other symposium activities, the hot tub didn't seem to be a particularly popular attraction. The alcove is nice and private and we figured there would be nobody there.”

“Then what happened?”

“Take a guess.” Alana smirked. “The air was cool, the water was warm. The two of us were out there alone together under the stars. Let's just say, the situation was pretty conducive and we both got a little playful. After what Charles had gone through, he deserved a treat.”

“You're referring to the keynote speech?”

“That's right. It took courage for Charles to take such a stand. Especially since he knew how unpopular his viewpoint was going to be.”

“Either courage or lunacy,” Bertie muttered.

“You only say that because you haven't taken the time to stop and examine the issues. Many of the things that Charles talked about in his speech are going to come to pass eventually. Trust me, it's inevitable, and it's only a matter of time before the dog show world realizes that.”

Spoken like a true proponent of the animal rights platform.

Abruptly I remembered Aunt Peg saying that Alana liked to take up causes and adopt them as her own. And all at once I suspected I knew what had caused Charles's sudden change of heart.

“You were the one who converted him, weren't you?” I said.

“Converted?” Alana laughed. “What a thing to say. You make it sound like we're talking about a change of religion.”

Believe me, as far as dog show people were concerned, it was almost that serious. And certainly no laughing matter.

“Convinced him, then. Do you like the sound of that better?”

“Let's just say I pointed out the error of his ways.”

“You must have done a pretty good job of it.” I had to work to keep the admiration out of my voice. “Prior to this symposium, Charles had devoted both his life and his career to the betterment of purebred dogs—”

“But that's what I'm trying to tell you,” said Alana. “He was
still
doing that. Don't you see? The only difference was that he'd changed his belief of what constituted working for their good.”

“Or you changed it for him,” said Bertie.

“You two must have a very high opinion of my capabilities. I didn't make Charles do a single thing that he didn't want to. The keynote speech was entirely his idea—”

“But the understanding that he could come to the hot tub later to collect his reward, I assume that was your doing?”

“Of course.” Alana sounded smug. A woman who never underestimated her own appeal—or its effect on men.

“So you and Charles were…entertaining yourselves…in the hot tub. What happened next?”

“We heard someone coming.”

“Who?”

Alana stared. “How would I know that?”

I stared right back. “You were there, weren't you?”

“Not when the other person appeared. As soon as we realized we were about to be interrupted, I knew I had to disappear. The last thing Charles needed was any hint of impropriety. It would have undone all the good he'd just accomplished.”

Maybe they should have thought of that before they'd climbed into the hot tub together. Or perhaps I was just too practical to orchestrate an illicit affair.

“Go on,” Bertie prodded when I missed my cue.

“Well, I wasn't about to duck under the water and hold my breath. So I jumped out of the tub, gathered up the clothes on the bench, and made a run for it.”

“Your clothes and Charles's both.”

“As it turned out, yes. Though I didn't realize that at the time. I just snatched up everything I could and ran.”

“Naked.” Bertie grinned. “That must have been a sight.”

“I'm sure it was,” Alana said with a chuckle. “Thank God there was no one around to see.”

“What about the murderer?” I asked. “Are you sure he didn't see you?”

Abruptly Alana stopped laughing.

“Yes,” she said after a moment's hesitation. “I am.”

I didn't know if we were hearing the truth. I did know that we were hearing what she wanted to believe.

“And you didn't see him…or her?”

“No. Didn't I just tell you that? I had no idea who was coming, and at the time it didn't seem like it even mattered. All I knew was that I had to get out of there.”

“So you went back to your room,” said Bertie.

“
Naked!”
Alana repeated in case we'd missed that fact earlier. “Where the hell else was I going to go?”

Good point.

“You must have been sorry you'd been interrupted,” I said. “Did you think about waiting a few minutes and then going back outside?”

“For what? The mood was pretty well shot, you know what I mean? I figured if Charles wanted to come looking for me, he knew where to find me.”

“When he didn't, did that bother you?”

Alana's shrug was deliberately casual. “I didn't think about it one way or the other. And I certainly wasn't about to go chasing after him.”

“So how did you hear about what had happened?” Bertie asked.

“Just like everyone else. I waited a little while in my room, but when Charles didn't show up, I went down to the bar to get a drink. By then, the word was out. It was all anybody could talk about.”

“You must have been shocked,” I said.

“I burst into tears on the spot. In the annals of Alana Bennett, it wasn't my finest moment. Then I bought a bottle of Johnny Walker Black from the bartender, took it back up to my room with me, and drank myself into a stupor.”

Alana's shoulders slumped. She exhaled softly.

“He really was a very fine man,” she said.

Bertie started to get up. I had one more question.

“Did Caroline know about you and Charles?”

Alana tipped her chin upward, defiant once again. “What could that possibly matter now?”

“Somebody was angry enough at Charles to want to kill him. Under the circumstances, I would think that his wife might have fit that description.”

“Caroline?” Alana sounded as if she was considering the possibility for the first time.

“Do you have any better ideas?”

“I don't have any ideas at all. That's supposed to be your department. As for Caroline…”

“Yes?” I said when her voice trailed away. “What?”

“She knew. That bitch knows everything.”

 

“No wonder you do this detecting thing,” Bertie said.

We had left Alana in the meditation garden and exited the health spa. Now we were on our way back to the inn.

“It's a bit of a rush, isn't it?”

I stopped walking. “What do you mean?”

“You know, convincing people to confess their deepest, darkest secrets.”

“When it works,” I admitted, “I guess it feels pretty good.”

“And when it doesn't?”

“Then I just look like an idiot.”

I resumed course and speed.

“Speaking of convincing people to do things,” I said, “Alana must have some pretty incredible powers of persuasion to have turned Charles around like that.”

Bertie grinned. “To hear her tell it, she does.”

“Did you buy everything she told us?”

“For the most part, I guess it sounded close enough. Although Alana's not above shading the truth when it suits her purposes.”

“Like when she talked to Detective Wayne?”

“For starters.”

“Do you think she did the same thing to us?”

“I wouldn't rule it out.”

“Then I guess I know what we need to do next.”

“What?” asked Bertie.

We'd stepped up onto the porch. She reached out and grasped the long, curved tusk that served as a handle and pulled the door open. I preceded her into the lobby.

The space was filled with symposium participants. They were milling about in small groups, checking their schedules, perusing the announcement board, and deciding which upcoming seminars to attend.

If only my life were that simple.

“Talk to Caroline,” I said. “And hear the other side of the story.”

 

It didn't take long to track Caroline down. According to the roster of events, she was scheduled to lead a panel discussion on genetic anomalies in half an hour in conference room A. I could attend the session and then talk to her afterward, a win/win proposition.

Bertie ran up to the room to fetch paper and pen to take notes. I looked in the direction of the dining room and pondered the possibility of a morning milk shake. Alas, it was not to be.

Margo was standing at the foot of the wide staircase. She was answering questions, giving directions, and basically micromanaging every aspect of the morning's events. Her motions were jerky and manic; she looked like a traffic cop on speed.

As I stood there debating, she caught my eye and waved. It was too late to duck out. Margo motioned me to her side and I obeyed.

“Are you looking for me?” she asked.

“No, Caroline.”

“You're sure? Because I thought you might be ready to give me a report.”

“No,” I said firmly. “I'm not.”

A gaggle of chattering dog show judges came walking down the stairs. I side-stepped to let them by and, in the momentary confusion, almost made my escape. But Margo was determined. She left her post and followed me.

“What do you need to see Caroline about?” she asked.

“Just stuff,” I said brightly.

“Stuff relating to Charles's murder?”

I shrugged and would have kept walking, except that another group came spilling out of the dining room and blocked my way.