Ruff Way to Go (26 page)

“If she
chased after him or hurt him, maybe, but I can’t see Shogun having been capable
of interpreting whatever he might have seen and concluding that he was in
danger.”

“Maybe not.
But all I know is I’ve always warned Trevor about Edith. She’s a self-centered,
evil-minded woman. I think if Shogun had bit her instead of me, she’d have had
him put to sleep.”

I tended to
agree with that assessment, and the sentiment must have been written on my
features, for Luellen studied my face for a moment then smiled. “Allida, I know
you’ll make the right decision. But believe me, Shogun would be safer with
Trevor than here, so close to that woman. I wouldn’t put it past her to...do
something terrible to Shogun, just to keep Trevor from ever enjoying his
company again.”

On that
note, Luellen turned on a heel and left.

I stared
across the street. The police tape was down from Edith Cunningham’s house, and
I got a glimpse of her through her front window. As much as I wanted to curl up
in the fetal position and stay safe for the rest of the day, Luellen was right
I needed to get this issue regarding Shogun resolved. I had already met with
Trevor. I needed to do the same with Edith.

I called her
on the phone. When she answered, I asked, “Would this be a good time for me to
come over with Shogun and finally have our appointment?”

“As a matter
of fact, this isn’t terribly good timing. I only just now got back into my
house. I shouldn’t even be here; I’m supposed to be at my store, but there are
some things I need to take care of.” She paused and sighed. “However, I am
anxious to see Shogun again. How long would you estimate that this will take?”

“Half an
hour at the most.”

“All right,
then. Let’s get it over with.”

She hung up
abruptly, which I assumed meant I was to come over posthaste. I wrote a note to
my mom that I was at Edith’s and would be back ASAP, and that I hoped she could
just stick my ice cream in the freezer for me.

Though I now
had that nicely personalized bed for Shogun, no one had given me his leash, and
I wanted to test Shogun’s reaction as we neared his former home. It would be
interesting to see if he was anxious or reluctant to get there.

I foolishly
grabbed Doppler’s leash right while he was in the room. This, of course,
immediately signaled to Doppler that we were going for a walk, and my snapping
it on Shogun’s collar instead of his was likely to lead to a power struggle
between the smaller dog duo. Before leaving, I reached into my emergency
supplies in the coat closet and gave Doppler a rawhide bone, which more than
compensated for the temporary use of his leash.

Shogun and I
left through the front door. To my surprise, Shogun had been leash-trained. He
stayed right by my side and sat the minute I stopped at the roadside. “Shogun,
heel,” I ordered out of curiosity as we started out to cross the street. He
hopped up and again walked perfectly at my left side, his pointy ears up and
his mannerisms happy and proud.

To test his
reaction, I slowed my pace and gave Shogun full lead as we headed straight for
the Randons’ walkway, which was directly across from mine.

To my
surprise, Shogun started up the walkway as if this were a visit he was
accustomed to making. And yet Cassandra had been so dog shy, it would have been
strange for either Edith or Trevor to bring the dog when going next door.

As soon as
the leash got tight as I quit following the dog up the Randons’ walkway, Shogun
stopped, looked back at me with hunched shoulders and hanging head—the
dog expression of embarrassment—and trotted back over to me. When I
deliberately didn’t move, to see which way he headed, he let out a little whine
and started toward Edith’s house, then sat down, waiting for me.

As soon as I
took one step down the sidewalk in the direction of his former home, he started
happily trotting ahead of me, pulling on his leash. This was a good sign, to my
way of thinking. It was good news to everyone, in fact, except possibly Trevor,
but for all I knew, Shogun might be hoping to see Trevor in his house. Dogs can
be infinitely patient when expecting to return to their old routine, which
meant, for Shogun, both owners at home.

I started
getting the heebie-jeebies as we neared the Cunninghams’ house. I immediately
stared at the gate, noting that this time it was shut, and tried to blink away
the hideous scene from a few days ago that had returned unbidden to my memory.

Out of
curiosity, I removed Shogun’s leash. The dog raced up the walkway and to the
front door, which meant this was a common return route for him, as opposed to
his heading toward the gate at the side.

I rang the
doorbell, and Edith swung open the door, looking her usual elegant self in a
tailored dress suit—predominantly rust-colored, which matched her
lipstick and brought out the auburn highlights in her hair. As usual, her
cosmopolitan attire struck me as incongruous with our rural setting, but maybe that
was just me.

“Hello,
Allie,” she said, with her version of warm smile that struck me as more for
show than heartfelt. Her use of my nickname was a bit offensive. Normally only
my closest friends call me Allie, and she was far from that category. I noted,
too, that she was focused on me and not her own dog, her vision not drifting
down in the least.

She
continued to pay no attention to Shogun even as she ushered us inside her
house. The little dog rushed ahead as Edith led me to the center of her
tastefully furnished living room, where we remained standing.

As a test, I
wanted to keep her engaged in conversation not related to Shogun to see how
long it would take till she even noticed her supposedly beloved dog. “Edith, I
was wondering when that sale you were telling me about was going to start.”

“Today, as a
matter of fact, which is why this is so inconvenient.” She appraised my attire
and said, “I can do wonders for you. Give you an aura of professionalism.”

“I’m sure my
clients will appreciate that.”

“Dress to
the level to which you aspire. That has always been my motto.”

“And what
level would you suggest a dog behaviorist aspire to?”

She clicked
her tongue and didn’t answer. “How is my little boy doing?” she finally said,
turning her attention to her dog, who quietly waited by her feet. She picked
him up, his tail wagging as she stroked his fur.

“Fine.
Edith, I’m curious about something. When you go out of town, who do you have
take care of Shogun?”

“We used to
take him with us, on those few times we traveled together.”

“Did you
ever ask Cassandra to watch him?”

She winced
at the name. “No. Although we were close friends, I would never have asked her.
She didn’t like dogs.”

“So you
never, for example, brought Shogun over there when you were visiting Cassandra?”

“No. But I
can’t promise the same is true for Trevor.” Through clenched teeth, she added, “For
all I know, he might have been Cassandra’s pimp.”

Though I’d
become inured to Edith’s caustic comments regarding her husband, her remark
about Cassandra rattled me. “Um, I don’t think I want to get into this.
Cassandra was a nice lady and a good mother, and beyond that, I—”

“Yes, she
was both of those things. And I considered her a friend, despite her faults.
Furthermore, I sincerely hope the police find her killer and string the bastard
up by his thumbs. Unfortunately, though, by the sounds of it, I knew Cassandra
a good deal better than you did.” She looked me straight in the eyes and said
firmly, “I knew that she should have put a revolving door in her bedroom.”

For just a
moment, an expression of genuine sorrow passed across her features. She added
sadly, “And that my soon-to-be ex-husband would have had his paw prints all
over it.”

I decided to
ignore Edith’s last remark as best I could. During our conversation, Shogun had
rushed under the writing desk in the corner of the living room. He was
obviously used to hiding out there.

Edith
followed my gaze and saw where he was cowering. She managed to put her anger
toward Trevor aside long enough to bend down and call, “Come on, Shogun,” in a
high voice with a you’re-going-to-get-a-treat enthusiasm. He came up to her
with only a slight hesitation.

Trying my
best to give her the benefit of the doubt, I had her run through some basic
training routines. This was always a good way for me to get a feel for how a
dog and his owner relate, not so much by watching the dog’s responses, but by
watching the owner’s reactions to the dog’s responses. It’s amusing to me how
seriously the human contingent always seem to take this exercise. Invariably
the owner reacts as though I’m sitting in judgment of his or her ability to
properly train the dog.

In this
case, Edith was clearly very anxious to please, and so was Shogun. The dog was
enthusiastic throughout and obeyed very well, which was what I’d expected from
my own experience with Shogun during the past couple days.

I clapped my
hands once loudly when the dog was in the middle of a lie-down-stay routine. As
I expected, Shogun was startled, leapt to his feet, and let out a quick series
of shrill, scolding barks at me.

“What did
you do that for?” Edith snapped in the human equivalent of her canine’s
reaction.

“Just
testing his temperament. Can we step into the kitchen for a moment, please?”

“Certainly,”
Edith said with a hint of impatience.

Though Edith
didn’t question me, I had asked this last as a way to see how at home Shogun
felt. Most dogs who consider themselves the alpha dog of the pack will dart
ahead of their owners and lead the way into rooms. Less dominant dogs, however,
tend to follow a few steps behind, then plant themselves in the doorway
afterward.

“Shogun isn’t
normally this jumpy,” she said to me as we entered the kitchen. Shogun rushed
ahead of us, but—tellingly, in my opinion—stayed by my feet rather
than by Edith’s.

“I’m sure
that’s true.” Which was what I’d tried to tell her the very first time she’d
come to me with Shogun.

“It’s all
that he’s been through, lately. Getting kidnapped by Luellen and then by my
husband and then, well, pardon my bluntness, but by
you.
The poor baby
doesn’t know if he’s coming or going.”

That was an
interesting, and very one-sided, interpretation of the facts. A bit of
revisionist personal history going on there. “Not to mention his witnessing
Cassandra’s murder,” I added a bit caustically.

She winced. “I
try not to even let myself think about that tragedy. Cassandra was a dear
friend of mine. It’s too upsetting to think about her meeting with a violent
end, right here in my own house.”

Right. A “very
dear friend” whom, minutes ago, she was calling a whore. My eyes were drawn to
the deck. Everything looked normal there now; no hint of the horrid scene I’d
stumbled upon a few days ago.

Edith lifted
her recently sculpted nose and said, “I would like very much to think that
Shogun somehow missed witnessing the actual murder. I’m quite certain it was
Trevor. Some sort of lover’s quarrel, I suspect. I’d like to believe that he at
least put Shogun in his car beforehand.”

I studied
her face to make sure she was serious. Her lips were set in a firm, thin line.
The prospect of anyone killing someone in the heat of passion, after first
swooping his dog up to protect him from witnessing the act, was sheer lunacy. “Even
if it
was
Trevor who killed her, he didn’t have Shogun right after the
murder happened. Luellen did.”

“Oh, please.”
She gave me a dismissive wave. “Luellen worships the ground that Trevor walks
upon. She’d lie to the priest on her own deathbed for her brother’s sake.”

“But Edith,
it doesn’t make any sense that Trevor did it. Why would Trevor have come here
to your house? Surely he knows your schedule at the store. He would have
expected
you
to be here, not Cassandra. Even if he did have a motive,
why kill her at your house?”

“That answer’s
obvious. He lured her over here and killed her on my property to frame me.”

I didn’t know
how to respond to that. This dark side of human behavior was so sickening to
me. Wasn’t it tragic enough that a woman, a supposed good friend of hers, had
been murdered? How could Edith suspect her husband on top of everything else?

“Well,
Edith, I know you have to run, and I think I’ve seen enough.” I knelt and
pulled Doppler’s leash out of my pocket. “Come, Shogun.”

The hum of a
lawn mower resounded outside. The noise was coming from the direction of the
Haywoods’ property, and I wondered if that could possibly be Susan Nelson, out
mowing her parents’ lawn. My stomach was instantly in knots at the thought of
facing her, but I’d have a guilty conscience forever if I didn’t find out what
had transpired between her and her husband, thanks to my report to the police.
First, though, I had to complete the matter of the ownership of Shogun.

Shogun
trotted over to me, and I fastened the leash on his collar.