Hounded to Death (5 page)

“What will you do about it?” I asked. With luck, Florence might be asked to take her contraband pet and leave the symposium.

That optimistic thought didn't last long.

“There's not much I can do, is there? Both Florence and Button are already in residence. As long as she keeps him mostly out of sight, I imagine I'll just have to pretend I don't notice anything out of the ordinary.”

Margo turned back to Peg. “Listen, that isn't why I wanted to talk to you. Florence Donner is small potatoes compared to the other potential problems we've got brewing. Two things. First, what have you heard about Charles Evans and the speech he's planning to give tomorrow?”

“Nothing.” Aunt Peg perked up. There's nothing she enjoys more than the prospect of mayhem. “What's going on?”

“I'm not sure. Nobody has said anything to me directly, but there are several unsavory rumors floating around. I've heard that his keynote address is going to be highly controversial. It's scheduled to take place in the largest lecture hall and the room is going to be packed. I hope he isn't planning anything outrageous.”

“Charles, outrageous?” Peg looked dubious. “That would be most unlike him.”

Even though I didn't know the man, I had to agree. He certainly looked like a straight arrow. I remembered Aunt Peg had said that Charles would be talking about the future of dog shows. The topic sounded innocuous enough.

“That's what I thought,” Margo said. “And it's not like anyone actually expects him to prognosticate from the podium. Charles chose the topic and I thought it seemed like something harmless and entertaining that he could have some fun with. But now I don't know…I've heard just enough innuendo to make me start to worry.”

“There's an easy solution to that, you know.” Peg nodded across the room to where Charles and Caroline were standing in a group of fellow judges. “Why don't you march over there, pull him aside, and ask him to tell you what he's going to say? You'd be well within your rights as director of the symposium to demand a heads-up.”

“You don't think I haven't already tried? Charles can be slippery as a fish when he wants to be. He's very aware of his position in the dog show world and not above using it to his advantage. I'd barely even gotten the question out before he totally dismissed me. He said he wouldn't dream of spoiling the effect his speech was going to have by talking about it ahead of time.”

That didn't sound good.

Aunt Peg frowned. “What about Caroline? What does she have to say?”

“I've known Caroline for a hundred years,” said Margo. “She and I started out doing obedience together back in the Dark Ages. I wouldn't say we're best friends, but if she thought I needed a warning, I'd like to think I could count on her to pass one along.”

“And?”

“And nothing. Caroline says that Charles keeps certain things private, even from her. She has no idea what he's planning.”

We all stood there and considered that.

“We've been no help with your first problem,” Peg said after a minute. “You mentioned two. What's the other?”

Margo looked resigned. “More unsubstantiated rumor, I'm afraid. Apparently one of our esteemed judges has gotten himself caught with his hand in the cookie jar.”

“Taking bribes in exchange for wins?” Aunt Peg elucidated just in case I hadn't caught on.

She needn't have worried. A story like that wasn't a new one. For as long as I'd been showing dogs, I'd heard similar rumors. An infraction of that sort was enough to end, or at least severely curtail, a career. But as long as the talk remained just that, nothing ever came of it.

“Just so. I've heard that a disgruntled exhibitor is about to turn him in.”

“Who's the judge?” I asked, beating Aunt Peg to the punch.

“Unfortunately, I haven't a clue. If I did, perhaps I could put a lid on the scandal before it blows up in our faces. I've worked long and hard pulling this symposium together, and I have a great deal invested in its successful outcome. I have no intention of letting Charles Evans, or anyone else, ruin it for me.”

“Forewarned is forearmed,” said Aunt Peg.

And wasn't that a pleasantly cheerful thought on which to start the week?

T
he reception was beginning to wind down. That was fine by me because after two Shirley Temples, a slew of introductions to people whose faces I could barely remember, and more inane chatter than I usually heard in a week, I was worn out.

Richard came back and collected Aunt Peg. Florence was nowhere to be seen; presumably Derek and Marshall had escorted her to dinner.

Bertie and Alana had disappeared together while I'd been busy talking to Margo and Aunt Peg. I could have hunted them down but the prospect of food held little appeal, and the prospect of Alana's company held even less.

There was a granola bar in my purse upstairs that could double for dinner. Better still was the thought of stretching out on the bed and putting my feet up. Sad but true; it was eight-thirty on a Monday night and I was just about done for.

As I walked up the wide staircase to the second floor of the inn, leaving the noise and the revelry behind, I ran my hand over my stomach. I felt the slight swell and imaged the tiny person nesting within. Life as I knew it had changed dramatically over the last few months. My breasts were tender, my ankles swollen, my energy level flagging.

You better be worth it
, I thought with a smile.

I hadn't expected a response and yet I wasn't startled when one came.

I am
, said a voice in my head, clear as a bell.
You know I am
.

No arguing with that.

 

Once in the room, I immediately kicked off my shoes and unbuttoned my waistband. A sigh of relief followed. That felt much better.

Then I pulled out my cell phone and pushed the buttons to connect me with home. As I listened to it ringing, I piled up a nest of pillows on the bed and lay down gratefully.

I imagined Davey running to pick up the phone, Sam pausing in what he was doing to hear who was calling. All the little routines of home, going on in my absence. The Poodles would follow Davey out to the kitchen; several would bark to add to the excitement.

I could have called Sam's cell phone, but that would have spoiled Davey's fun. When you're nine, things like picking up the phone are still exciting.

I felt a swift stab of homesickness as I heard a click and Davey yelled, “Hey!”

“Hey yourself, it's Mom.”

I could hear the Poodles in the background and I quickly picked out Faith's distinctive voice. She was the first dog I'd ever owned and she'd become my canine soul mate. Since Faith can pretty much read my mind, I assumed she knew it was me on the phone.

“I figured it was you,” Davey said, sounding very pleased with himself. “How are the Poconos? Are they big? Do they have snow on them?”

Told that I'd be spending the week in the mountains, my son had pictured me scaling the Alps or living at a Mount Everest base camp. Unfortunately my real life wasn't that exciting.

“They're medium-sized and I haven't seen any snow yet. Actually the weather here is pretty much like it is at home.”

“Oh. No skiing?”

“Not this week. And probably not at all for me until after the baby is born.”

“The baby needs a name,” said Davey.

This was a familiar complaint. Davey is very organized and he likes the world around him to be the same.

“Sam-Dad and I are working on it,” he said.

“Good. What have you come up with?”

“We're thinking maybe Rufus.”

I swallowed a laugh. “Really.”

“You know, in honor of Sam's Scottish heritage.”

“Sam doesn't have a Scottish heritage.”

“That's not what he told me.” This time it was Davey who let a giggle escape.

“Okay,” I said. “Rufus sounds good. What if it's a girl?”

“It won't be.”

“It might be.”

“It won't.”

The utter confidence of youth. While I loved the idea of a baby daughter myself, I was really hoping he wouldn't be disappointed.

“How's everything going at home?” I asked.

“Mom, you've only been gone a day. Not even.”

“Yes, but I know you guys. And things can go wrong in less time than that.”

“No problems here,” said Davey. “Everything's cool. Wait! Here's Sam.”

“Hi, Mel.” Sam's voice replaced my son's on the line. “How's everything going?”

“Great. If you don't count the fact that Aunt Peg came to this symposium to rendezvous with her new forty-nine-year-old boyfriend whom she met over the Internet, that some sort of judging scandal is brewing, and that the organizer of the event is afraid the keynote speaker is up to something nefarious.”

“In other words, business as usual,” said Sam.

“Pretty much.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Good.” I leaned back on the pillows and closed my eyes. “Tired.”

“Don't do too much. You're there to enjoy yourself, take in a few lectures, learn a little something, have a week off. A low-stress vacation.”

“There is such a thing?”

“Damn straight. You're on it. Let me talk to Bertie. I want to find out if she's keeping an eye on you.”

“Not here,” I said with a yawn. “She's out partying the night away with her new friend, Alana.”

“Not Alana Bennett?”

“The very same.”

Like Aunt Peg, Sam had been involved in the dog show world for eons. Her knowledge and connections were legendary, but his were pretty impressive too.

“Tell Bertie to keep her hand on her wallet and her back to the wall,” said Sam.

“Will do. Aunt Peg has already said much the same thing. Now, what's this about Rufus?”

Sam's deep laugh rumbled through the phone. “Just trying it on for size.”

“And your supposed Scottish heritage?”

“Supposed, hell. I look fine in a kilt.”

“No arguments from me, not that I've ever had the pleasure. Maybe when I get back?”

“Anytime, babe.”

“Now listen,” I said on a more serious note. “Talk to Davey about the fact that he might be getting a little sister. He's waited so long for a sibling, I'd really hate for him to be disappointed.”

“I know,” said Sam. “Me too. I'll work on it.”

“One more thing. Reach down and give Faith a pat. Tell her it's from me.”

“Already done,” said Sam. “She's been sitting on my lap listening to your voice while we've been talking.”

My heart softened. “I love you.”

“I know.”

“Do better.”

“You're the love of my life and you always will be.”

“That works.”

“For me too,” said Sam.

 

Bertie got back to the room just before midnight. She beat Aunt Peg by at least an hour. So it was no surprise that my aunt was looking rather bleary eyed at breakfast the next morning.

Not that I was eating breakfast actually. But I was sitting at a table with the two of them, sipping a glass of orange juice and trying to be sociable.

Aunt Peg's a multi-tasker. She had a fork in one hand and the day's agenda in the other.

“Margo has really outdone herself,” she said. “This schedule has something that should be of interest to just about everyone.”

“Better still,” said Bertie, “if we get tired of sitting through lectures and panel discussions, all the inn's facilities are available to us. I've got my eye on the spa myself. I'm pretty sure I could use a mud bath or a massage.”

I watched enviously as she cut off a large square of waffle and stuffed it into her mouth. Bertie never had to worry about her weight. Not only that but whatever carousing she and Alana had been up to the night before, she didn't seem to be suffering any repercussions.

“Richard wants to try out the hot tub,” said Peg. “He asked if I'd brought a bathing suit with me. Can you just imagine?”

“Sure,” I said, lying with conviction. I'd never seen my aunt in a bathing suit and I doubted I ever would. “Speaking of Richard, how was your dinner?”

“It was fine.”

I sat and waited. Aunt Peg ignored me and returned to eating her omelet. Obviously she thought her first answer had been sufficient.

Which of course it hadn't.

“Fine?” Bertie said after a minute. “Just fine?”

Peg looked up. “What do you mean
just
fine? Fine is a good thing.”

“Fine is an okay thing,” I said. “It's damning with faint praise. It certainly doesn't sound very exciting.”

“Oh, pish. Who wants excitement at my age?”

Bertie and I exchanged a glance. As if we were going to buy
that
. Especially considering the source.

“We want details,” I said.

“Well, I'd like to win the lottery,” Aunt Peg replied, “and I don't see that happening either.”

She looked at her watch, pushed back her chair, and stood. “My dear friend Wanda Swanson will be starting her Saluki lecture shortly and I intend to be sitting front row center when she does. I trust you two can manage to keep yourselves occupied without my guidance?”

Bertie and I agreed that we could.

“In that case, I shall see you later. We'll meet at quarter to three outside the main lecture hall. Does that suit?”

Charles Evans would be giving the keynote address at three. Before speaking with Margo the previous evening, I wasn't sure I'd bother to attend. Having been forewarned, however, that Charles's presentation might be the most exciting thing to happen all week, I now had no intention of missing it.

Bertie obviously felt the same way. We both nodded. Aunt Peg gathered up her things and left.

Bertie glanced down at the schedule. “Let's see, the first track offers a choice between Salukis and Irish Setters. Or I can cut out on them both and get a little pampering.” She considered for a moment. “Not much choice there, I'm going for the pampering.”

“It's Irish Setters for me,” I said. I'd always been intrigued by the beautiful, russet dogs.

“Go for it,” said Bertie. “I'll catch up with you later.”

 

If I had been paying more attention—which translated in my mind to
if I wasn't pregnant
—I would have realized that Caroline Evans was the judge leading the discussion of Irish Setters. I settled down near the front of the room and watched Charles's wife take command of the podium with authority. She was petite in stature but her forceful demeanor made her seem bigger. When Caroline was ready to start speaking, the room, filled nearly to capacity, immediately quieted.

What followed was a talk that was every bit as lively and playful as the red setters themselves. Caroline clearly adored her subject. She managed to convey her devotion to the breed while at the same time imparting a huge amount of useful information.

It was easy to understand why Bertie and Aunt Peg had praised the woman's judging skills. If Caroline handled herself in the show ring as well as she did in the lecture hall, even the most knowledgeable exhibitors would have been delighted to have her opinion.

Having skipped breakfast, I took a quick break for an early lunch when the lecture ended. Soup and crackers eaten in a café overlooking the wooded mountainside was about all my stomach could tolerate. That afternoon, I listened to half a session on Otterhounds, then stuck my head briefly into the Kuvasz room.

By then, I'd been inside nearly all day. The building was beginning to feel stuffy to me; I grabbed a jacket and headed outside for a walk.

As soon as I stepped through the door, the crisp, cool autumn air revived my spirits. The tangy scent of pine filled the air. A hiking path angled away from the far side of the parking lot and off into the woods. Striding out, I headed for it eagerly.

After a day of sitting still, it felt good just to be moving again. The only thing keeping the experience from being just right, I realized, was the lack of canine companionship.

I'd grown up without pets, and spent my early adult years similarly dogless. Then Aunt Peg had given me my first Standard Poodle, Faith, and everything had changed. Faith's daughter, Eve, had become part of our family several years later; and now it was hard to imagine how I'd ever lived without either one of them.

When Sam and I got married, he'd added his three Standard Poodles to the mix. Now we had a houseful, and I couldn't remember the last time I'd gone for a walk without at least one Poodle cavorting at my side. Glad as I was to be outdoors on such a beautiful afternoon, I knew I'd enjoy the activity more if I had a dog to share it with.