Putting on the Dog (8 page)

Emily giggled. I felt oddly pleased.

“So these dogs who are in dog shows like this... they’re probably nervous wrecks, right? They must get all kinds of special diseases and things.”

“Actually, the opposite is true,” I told her. “Most show dogs adore the attention. They love all the time they get to spend with their owners and their trainers. Then there’s the excitement of the actual event. If you watch them, you can see they have a pretty good sense of what’s going on, and they really get into it. Of course, their owners also take very good care of them, making sure they’re inoculated and taking them for regular check-ups. All in all, they’re a pretty healthy, well-adjusted bunch.”

“That’s a relief,” Emily said. “I’d hate to think that all these sweet doggies—”

“Jessie!” I glanced up and saw Kara Liebling trotting toward me, her silky blonde hair framing her face and giving her the look of an angel. She was even dressed all in white so that she matched the meticulously groomed borzoi beside her.

“Good morning!” she greeted me when she reached the booth. “How lovely to see you again!”

“Nice to see you, too, Kara. And who’s this lovely creature?”

I reached down to stroke the graceful white animal. Even though she probably weighed in at seventy-five pounds and stood almost to my hip, the leggy hound with the long, silky coat was surprisingly dainty.

A good choice for Kara, I decided. They both have the same aura of elegance.

“Just look at this beautiful animal!” I turned my head toward Emily, who was standing a couple of feet behind me.

She gave a little shrug, twisting her face into a disagreeable expression. She stubbornly continued to pet Lou’s head, as if demonstrating that her affections were not easily swayed.

Even so, Kara brightened. “Hello, Emily. I didn’t realize that was you!”

“It’s me,” she said meekly.

“Do you two know each other?” I asked, genuinely surprised.

“Everybody knows Emily Bolger!” Kara said a little too heartily.

Bolger, Bolger...of course! Russell Bolger, the movie executive on whose estate the opening-night gala had taken place. So
he
was her father, the man she was so certain was disappointed in her. Given the glimpse I’d had of “his world,” I suddenly understood this serious, uncertain girl’s claim that she didn’t fit into it very well.

Kara’s smile faded. “How’s your mom doing, Emily?”

“Okay, I guess. Right now she’s in California, in one of those rehab places.”

“Give her my very best, okay?”

“Sure.” I noticed that Emily barely looked at her.

“Well,” Kara said cheerfully, “I’d better be off. Wish Anastasia and me luck!”

A few seconds later, I spotted Shawn Elliot sauntering over in my direction. Considering that I’d been in town less than twenty-four hours, even I was impressed by all the new friends I’d made.

That didn’t mean my friends were also friends with one another. Remembering the iciness I’d picked up on between Shawn and Kara the evening before, I wondered if he’d been watching, waiting for her to make her exit before he made his entrance.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Dr. Pepper,” Shawn teased once he reached the booth.

“Her name is Dr.
Popper,
” Emily corrected him crossly.

“That’s okay, Em,” I told her. “He’s just being difficult.”

Breezily, Shawn returned, “And here I thought I was being charming!”

I decided to change the subject. “How’s Rufus? Any stage fright?”

“Naw, turns out he’s a natural.”

We both looked down at the heavyset bulldog with the James Cagney face who had flopped onto the cool grass. Rufus dug his chin into the soil and looked up at us with his big, soulful brown eyes. To me, he looked like the “What, me worry?” poster boy.

“In fact,” Shawn went on, “Rufus may be getting his first acting gig. I just found out some independent filmmaker is videotaping the dog show. He’s making a documentary to show at the end—probably his way of getting an ‘in’ with some of the suits in the movie biz. Russell Bolger’s even offered to host a luncheon at his place on Sunday so everybody can come and relive their favorite moments. Hey, I wouldn’t mind seeing Rufus on the big screen.” His expression suddenly darkened. “Besides, maybe it’ll help his reputation.”

I responded with a puzzled look.

“I know it sounds kind of crazy...but people are starting to make comments about Rufus.” Eyeing Emily, he added obtusely, “And what happened last night.”

She didn’t seem to notice the change in Shawn’s tone. She was too focused on his dog. “What a funny animal,” she commented, frowning at Rufus. “He looks mean.”

“Not at all! In fact, he’s a real pussycat,” I assured her. “Why don’t you pet him?”

She scowled. “He looks like he doesn’t like me.”

“If you want to work with animals, it’s a good idea to get used to all kinds,” I said gently. “Go ahead. He doesn’t bite.”

Emily hesitated before crouching down to Rufus’s level and tentatively patting his head. True to form, Rufus rolled over and lay on his back with his four legs limp, already in position for a quality belly-scratching.

“He
does
like me!” she squealed happily. As she obliged the affection-craving bulldog, it was difficult for me to tell who was enjoying it more.

“Why don’t you take him for a walk?” I suggested. “I know he looks gruff, but he’s really a teddy bear.”

“Come on, Rufus!” Emily said, scooping up his leash. He didn’t need to be asked twice.

Once the two of them had toddled off and were out of earshot, I turned to Shawn. “You’re kidding, right? About people making comments?”

“I wish I were.” He sighed. “You know, to be in this business, you have to be as tough as nails. Part of the job is having people criticize you. And I thought I’d gotten used to it. But all of a sudden, people are acting really weird about Rufus—and it’s making me nuts. When you come right down to it, East Brompton is just another small town—and people are already talking about what happened last night.

“Like this morning? When I parked near East Brompton Green and got out of my car, a bunch of teenage girls were hanging around, looking for celebrities. When they spotted me, they started squealing and giggling.” His cheeks turned pink. “Look, I’m not saying I deserve that kind of treatment, but it happens, okay? Anyway, they were asking for my autograph and all that...and then they spotted Rufus. They started laughing, saying he was wanted by the police, that he was one of ‘America’s Most Wanted,’ stuff like that.

“Having people act crazy around me is one thing. But seeing them respond negatively to Rufus—who’s, like, my main man—really bothers me, you know? I know he wasn’t really responsible for Devon Barnett’s death. If anybody’s to blame, it’s that ice sculptor guy.”

I was about to say something consoling when Emily came trotting back with Rufus at her heels.

“Did you two have fun?” I asked her.

“Kind of.” She wrinkled her nose, then paused as she pushed her glasses back into place. “At least, we were until this mom came by with her little boy. He got all excited when he saw Rufus and came running over to pet him. But then his mother started yelling, saying, ‘That’s Shawn Elliot’s dog! Keep away from him!’ ” She shrugged, then handed the leash to Shawn. “I think you’d better take him.”

Glancing over at Shawn, I saw that his mouth was pulled into a tense line. I didn’t know him very well, of course, but I still had a sense I was seeing a side of him that didn’t come out very often. I could feel my heart clench.

“This will blow over,” I assured him, reaching over and putting my arm around him. I rubbed his shoulder consolingly, leaning forward so I could speak to him without Emily overhearing. “I’m sure that in a day or two—”

“
There
you are! I was beginning to think I’d never find you!”

I glanced up and saw Nick striding across the grass. My arm dropped to my side as quickly as if I was doing jumping jacks. But it was too late. I saw his smile fade as he took in the scene he’d walked in on.

“Hey, Nick!” I exclaimed, trying to sound glad to see him. In fact, I
was
glad to see him. It’s just that my timing suddenly seemed to be disastrous.

Shawn didn’t help. “Hello, Mick,” he mumbled.

“That’s
Nick.
” Glancing at Shawn coolly, he added, “I seem to be interrupting something.
Again.
”

“Hardly,” I said cheerfully. I took a giant step away from Shawn. “Shawn was just telling me how bad he feels that people have been acting strange toward him since his dog—”

“ ‘His dog’?”
Nick repeated.

“Exactly. I never got a chance to explain, but the police seem to think that Shawn’s bulldog—Rufus, this guy over here—might have had something to do with Devon Barnett’s death last night.”

“I guess trouble runs in the family,” Nick observed.

When I heard a low growl, I couldn’t tell if it was coming from Nick or Shawn. But then I glanced down and realized it had come from Rufus, who was probably picking up on the bad vibes between his beloved master and this interloper.

“I hope you’ve got that animal under control,” Nick said through clenched teeth.

“He’s highly trained,” Shawn returned calmly. “He only bites people who deserve it.”

“Uh, Shawn, I think they’re getting ready to start the opening ceremonies over at the Blue Tent,” I interjected. “Maybe you and Rufus had better head over—especially if you want to make sure he’s featured in the videotape.” Just for the heck of it, I added, “Besides, I heard they take off points if you’re late.”

“Then we’d better get going.” His eyes fixed on Nick, Shawn said, “I always believe that, in the end, people get what they deserve. Dogs, too. And Rufus here is definitely a winner, so I don’t want to stand in the way of him getting his due recognition.”

“Did you actually manage to string all those words together yourself?” Nick asked pleasantly. “Or do you keep a screenwriter locked up in your basement?”

“I think I’m beginning to understand what Jessie sees in you,” Shawn returned in the same cheerful voice. As he turned to lead Rufus away, he called, “Later, Jess.”

“I don’t like him,” Emily muttered.

“Me, either,” Nick agreed. “What’s he doing, Jess, stalking you?”

“Why are you making such a big deal about Shawn?”

“How about the fact that every time I see the two of you together, you’ve got your arms around each other? What am I supposed to think, when you act all...all
gooey
whenever he’s around?”

“I’ve never acted gooey in my life!” I insisted indignantly. Deciding not to mention the mud bath his Ferrari had given me upon my arrival, I added, “Besides, Shawn has been very nice to me ever since I got here.”

Nick snorted. “I’ll bet he has.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that I wouldn’t trust that guy as far as I could throw him.”

“Are you the veterinarian?” a woman cradling a silky gray dog in her arms asked as she emerged from the crowd milling around the booth. “My schnauzer just started limping. I’m worried that he might have stepped on something sharp. Can you take a look at him?”

I felt like hugging her. “Certainly. Just give me two seconds.” I turned to Nick. “Look, I don’t have time for this right now. Just trust me, okay? You have nothing to worry about where Shawn Elliot is concerned. We’re just friends. I’m not the least bit impressed by the fact that he’s a famous movie star. Look, it was really thoughtful of you to come by, and—”

“There
was
a reason, you know.” He still sounded defensive, but his tone was softening. “I wanted to ask you if you had time to go to the beach later. When you’re done here, I mean.”

I blinked. “ ‘The beach’?”

“I thought it’d be...you know, romantic. That was the original idea in coming here, remember?”

“That’s really sweet,” I told him sincerely.

“Great. Then I’ll be waiting for you at the guesthouse at the end of the afternoon.” He leaned forward and kissed me lightly. “Hey, have fun today, Jess. And knock ’em dead. Let these snobby Bromptons folk see just how special you are.”

At that moment, as I turned away and focused on the schnauzer with the bum leg, I remembered exactly why I loved Nick Burby.

The morning passed quickly. While I’d expected things to be quiet, a steady stream of pet owners stopped by the “Ask The Vet” booth, looking for information or advice. I discussed flea collars with the owner of a black Lab and advised a pug owner on how to help her overweight dog slim down. One woman with a Scottie wanted me to look at her dog’s ears, which were constantly getting infected. A nervous young man was all atwitter about the safety of the chemicals in dog shampoos and the preservatives in food. I reminded him that just because something claims to be all-natural, that doesn’t guarantee that it’s safe.

Lyme disease was a popular topic. Deer are as abundant on eastern Long Island as tourists—and as hard to control. They’re everywhere, even in people’s backyards, eating their flower beds. That means deer
ticks
are everywhere, and deer ticks mean Lyme disease. While it’s as much a problem for people as it is for animals, today’s crowd was much more focused on their dogs’ health than their own. The grotesque deer tick next to my booth turned out to be the biggest draw of the event. At least, after the booth selling collars studded with giant
faux
jewels and crocodile-skin leashes.

After a long, intense hour of fielding questions, I decided to take a short break. I left Emily in charge of both my dogs and the booth, assuring her that I’d be back soon to deal with anything complicated that came up.

I had to admit, the excitement was getting to me. Being exiled to the edge of the action, watching the dogs and their owners parade in and out of the tents from afar without being able to see what was going on inside, was making me restless. True, Funds for Our Furry Friends was what’s called a “fun match.” Official dog shows provide the chance to compete for points that can lead to the title of Champion—which, aside from bolstering both human and canine egos, yields cash prizes and increases a dog’s value for breeding purposes. But that doesn’t mean a fun match isn’t as entertaining to watch, not to mention a lot more relaxing.