Underdog (18 page)
I sat at Betty's desk, watched Davey chase a soccer ball around the field outside, and wrote up my notes about the meeting. Maybe I should have Betty reschedule and the two of us could take another go at it. Or maybe that would only make things worse.
So far, Timmy was handling the pressure by retreating. If that worked for him, so be it. I wasn't about to be the one who placed a wall at his back.
Eighteen
The town of New Canaan is old-fashioned in the best sense of the word. The downtown area consists of two streets, Main and Elm. Many of the shops have been in place under the same ownership for decades; and half an hour's pleasant strolling will cover just about all there is to see. A sign on the railroad station says “The next station to heaven” and few residents would disagree.
New Canaan is also right next door to Stamford; close enough that I was able to slip out during lunch the next day, race home and pick up Faith, then drive over to the smaller of the two pet grooming establishments in town. Finding Jackie had been easy. I'd simply called both salons and asked if they had a new girl named Jackie working for them. One said yes; one said no. Good thing she wasn't trying to dodge the IRS.
The Canine Chateau was located at the end of a wide, mostly empty sidestreet. The two block stretch leading up to it boasted a few offices, a video rental store, a plate glass emporium and an auto body shop. Finding parking wasn't a problem.
I slipped Faith's collar and attached leash over her head and hopped her out of the car. She'd been shown only two weeks earlier and didn't look anything like the average pet in need of a clip or flea bath. Not only that but Aunt Peg would kill me if I let a pet groomer touch even a hair of Faith's carefully stylized trim. The puppy would, however, provide me with an entree and I was hoping that was all I'd need.
A trio of bells chimed as I opened the door and walked Faith into the shop. The outer room was small and mostly crammed with a selection of pet supplies that was heavy on rhinestone collars and light on quality kibble. There was a waist-high counter at the back of the room. A doorway behind it was covered by a ratty-looking curtain that wasn't pulled all the way shut. I could see two grooming tables and the edge of a bathtub. The hum of a forced air dryer made Faith's ears prick.
A bored-looking young woman was seated on a stool behind the counter. She was thumbing through a magazine, holding each page by the tips of her fingers as though her bright pink nails were wet. She glanced up, then turned another page. “Help you?”
“Yes, I'm looking for a groomer for my Poodle.”
She roused herself enough to look over the counter at Faith who was sitting by my side. “We don't take walk-ins. You'll have to make an appointment. Rates are on the wall. If he needs a flea dip, that's extra.”
“I'm looking for a particular groomer. I was told you have a new girl named Jackie who used to work in a show kennel. Faith is a show dog.”
“All our groomers are good. We handle show dogs all the time.”
Sure, I thought. And then you tie bows in their ears and send them home.
“Bunny? You busy?” The voice, coming out of the back room, was loud enough to make Faith look up inquiringly. I gave the caller the benefit of the doubt and decided she was probably trying to make herself heard over the dryers.
“Yeah. Whatsa matter?”
Of course that didn't explain why Bunny shrieked right back.
“Jackie's goin' out on lunch. You want anything?”
Faith whined softly under her breath. I scratched her poor ears for reassurance. Maybe their mamas had taken them to too many rock concerts when they were babies. Or maybe they were just dumb. From the decibel level of the conversation, you'd have thought they were trying to make themselves heard through a solid oak door rather than a flimsy curtain.
“Send her out here first, wouldja?”
A moment later the curtain parted. Jackie was a chunky girl in her mid-twenties with a prominent chin and wiry blond hair. She was wearing jeans and a tee shirt with the words, “If you can read this, you're too dose” stenciled across her breasts. She had a flannel-lined denim jacket in one hand and was counting the money in her wallet with the other.
“What?”
Bunny waved in my direction. “Lady here wants to talk to you about getting her dog done.”
Jackie's gaze slid over me and went straight to Faith. She dropped her jacket on the counter, shoved her wallet in the back pocket of her jeans, crouched down, and extended a hand. “Hey, pretty girl.”
Faith sniffed the fingers with polite reserve.
“I understand you used to work for a show kennel.”
“Yeah, Shamrock in Ridgefield. They didn't show any Poodles though.” Jackie frowned suddenly, regretting her honesty. “But of course I know how to groom them. I can do all the breeds. What you've got here is called a puppy trim.”
“And you think you could maintain it for showing?”
“Sure. Make an appointment and I'll show you. I've got some time open at the end of the week.”
Considering Aunt Peg had just devoted several hours to scissoring Faith's trim, I couldn't imagine what Jackie thought she might possibly do to improve upon it. Nor did I have any intention of finding out.
“I don't know.” I pretended to consider. “Ridgefield's not that far away. Maybe I should take her to this Shamrock place instead.”
“Bad idea. Real bad idea.”
“Why is that?”
“The people that own the place, they're a little crazy.”
“They are?” I leaned in closer and injected just the right amount of shock into my tone.
“That's the truth. I'll tell you, the things that went on there. . .”
“Like what?”
“Well it was a husband-wife team, see? And when they had fights, you'd think the roof was going to come off the kennel, it was that bad. Even the dogs would hide in the backs of their pens.”
“Is that why you left?”
“Nah, I just got fed up. I don't like to stay in one place for too long, you know? Besides, at the Maguires there was another girl, Jenny's sister. I was too far down the totem pole. I needed to get away and get to a place where I'd have a chance to move up.”
“Jenny Maguire? I've heard that name at the shows. Isn't she the woman who died?”
“Yeah.”
“Were you there then?”
“Nah, I was already gone. Doesn't mean I didn't cheer when I heard, though.”
“I guess you didn't like her much.”
“You can say that again. Little Miss Priss, when the clients were around. Like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. But when they were gone, watch out! Mostly Angie and I just tried to stay out of her way.”
“I heard she was murdered,” I mentioned casually.
Jackie's eyes lit up. “Really? Go on.”
“It's true.” Just to see what would happen, I threw out another name. “Crystal Mars told me.”
“Is that the lady with the kennel in Stratford? The dog food lady?”
I nodded. “Do you know her?”
“We never met, but I heard about her. Angleâthat's Jenny's sisterâher and me were friends. She and Jenny got into an argument once and I asked her about it later. Seems the dog food lady had had an affair with their father, can you beat that?”
No, I thought, I certainly couldn't. “Did it happen recently?”
“Nah, it was old stuff. Something that was going on back when Jenny and Angie first moved out on their own. Angie didn't want anything to do with Crystal Mars and she hated it that Jenny did. But once Jenny got an idea in her head, good or bad, nobody could change her mind.”
Crystal Mars and Roger Peterson? If that had been the precipitating factor in Jenny and Angie's leaving home, then frankly Angie's attitude made more sense to me than Jenny's did. Why would Jenny have wanted to keep up with the woman who'd rivaled her own mother for her father's affections?
“Hey, listen,” said Jackie. “I gotta get going. Bunny, write this lady down an appointment, would you? End of the week.”
Bunny pulled out an appointment book, picked up a pen, and stared at me blankly.
“Janet Reno,” I said. “R-E-N-O.”
Neither one of them batted an eye. I guess current events weren't a strong suit.
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I got to handling class early on Thursday evening and managed to snag Rick for a few minutes of conversation. I started by congratulating him on Charlie's recent successes. He accepted the praise modestly and like a true dog man, gave the Cocker all the credit.
“Harry Flynn didn't look too pleased on Sunday,” I ventured.
Rick was setting up a card table near the door to hold the cash box and attendance list. “Good.”
“He didn't like Jenny much, did he?”
“He doesn't like anyone at Shamrock. Flynn's lost two big clients to us since the beginning of the year. If you've met him, you know that public relations isn't his strong suit. And he can be just as surly with the people who are paying his bills. But Flynn never saw himself as being at fault. As far as he was concerned, Jenny stole his dogs.”
The outer door to the building opened and an eager black Lab dragged its owner inside. A Borzoi followed, and the line to check in began to form. When Aunt Peg showed up, late as usual, I motioned her over to the space I'd saved beside me on the mat.
By the time she got Hope settled, Rick was already calling the class to order. He walked to the front of the line and began making his way slowly from dog to dog, looking at each, but not yet touching, like a judge taking a first impression of his entry.
I made a quick inspection of Faith's stance. Her front feet were facing forward and were set properly underneath her. Her rear feet were stretched just enough to highlight her hindquarter angulation. I balled the narrow show leash inside my fist out of the way and used the same hand to lift her head up and back over her shoulders. The other reached to hold her tail. When Rick passed by, she looked alert and ready. I relaxed and let her droop a little after he'd passed.
In a carefully modulated whisper, I brought Aunt Peg up to speed on what I had learned. She shrugged over Rick's opinion of Harry Flynn as if that was old news, but the information Jackie had given me made her smile.
“Roger Peterson and Crystal Mars?” Her eyebrows waggled at the thought. I hoped that meant ideas were percolating.
Rick finished his opening perusal and set the line in motion. The week before he and Angie had seemed to be making an effort to handle things smoothly in Jenny's absence. Now only one class later, the transition from one sister to the other was just about taken for granted. As Aunt Peg moved off to the side to chat with the woman handling the Borzoi, I played tug-of-war with Faith and her squeaky and listened to a conversation between two women holding Airedales behind me.
“What's the difference?” one was saying. “One sister's pretty much the same as the other.”
The second woman was a redhead, just like her dog. “I disagree. Jenny always gave me good tips. She told me I was gaiting Rufus too fast and when I tried it her way, I realized I was. Angie has nice hands on a dog, I'll give her that. She's great at socializing puppies, but not nearly as good at picking up on my mistakes.”
“She's young, that's all. Maybe she's a little intimidated.”
“If that's the problem I hope she gets over it, or I may start looking for another class. It would be one thing if Angie were only filling in every now and again. . .”
Their two big terriers, who'd been sparring playfully, suddenly decided to take each other seriously. There was a throaty rumble from one and a snap of teeth from the other and the two handlers hastily moved apart. I brought Faith forward several steps where she'd be well out of the fray and thought about what the woman had said.
It would be one thing if Angie were only filling in every now and again . . .
The last time I'd seen Jenny she'd mentioned that Angie would be taking her place at class that week because she was planning to be away. I hadn't asked her where she was going; at the time, it hadn't seemed important. Then Jenny had died and class had been canceled and I'd forgotten all about it.
Up ahead Rick was going over Hope, which meant that my turn was next. As Aunt Peg completed her exercises, gaiting the puppy in the several different patterns while Rick watched critically, I moved Faith up and stacked her. When he finished with Hope and turned to her sister, we were ready.
“She's really improving.” Rick approached Faith in the quiet and efficient manner used by the best judges. He held out his fingers for her to smell.
“Thanks. We've been working on it.” Faith held her stance and wagged her tail.
Rick studied the puppy's head briefly, then lifted her lips to check the correctness of her bite. “Good girl,” he murmured softly, and moved on to feel the shoulder.
“You know, I was wondering about something.”
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