The Bark Before Christmas (16 page)

This time when I tugged on Kevin's small hand, he allowed himself to be moved. Beverly walked us to the door.

“I just thought of something,” she said, when we'd reached the hallway. “You said you worked at Howard Academy, right?”

I nodded.

“Do you know a guy there named Tony? Big, friendly guy, African-American? Has a nice smile?”

“Sure,” I said. “That's Tony Dahl. He's the head of the athletic department. Do you know him?”

“I met him here last summer. He's a friend of Hal's.”

What an interesting coincidence. I paused next to the outer door, waiting to see if Beverly had more to add. Happily she did.

“Hal and Tony were out in the backyard grilling some brats one day,” she told me. “It smelled pretty good so I went out to see if they had any leftovers. Hal introduced us and I remember Tony saying that he worked at your school. Could be he knows where Hal's gone off to.”

“Thanks for the tip,” I said. “I'll check into that.”

All the way home, Kevin talked about fish. Waving his hands in the air, he sang about red fish and blue fish and counted their numbers on his fingers. When he reached the end of his impromptu song, he squealed with delight and started over again.

There was definitely going to be an addition to that child's Christmas list.

While Kev occupied himself counting fish, I kept my eyes on the road and pondered the unlikely circumstance that the school's coach and their missing Santa Claus had known one another. Then I thought of something else. When Coco Lily had been running around causing havoc at the bazaar, it was Tony who'd known about the disturbance and who had brought me the news.

Another coincidence? Possibly.

But now I found myself wondering what else Tony might happen to know about that afternoon's events.

“W
ho would want to kill Santa Claus?” asked Bertie. “That's just perverse.”

“Tell me about it,” I said unhappily.

I'd brought Kevin back home, fed him lunch, and put him down for a nap. Sam had been out, meeting with a client, but he was due back shortly. While he held down the fort at home that afternoon, I planned to try and talk to a couple of the dog show exhibitors who'd been at the Christmas bazaar.

Sondra had already given me several names. But I wanted to get Bertie's take on the day's events, too. She had seen and dealt with everyone who'd brought dogs to have their pictures taken with Santa Claus. So she not only knew which dog people had been on hand that afternoon, she might also be able to give me some insight as to whether or not any of them had been acting suspiciously.

As soon as Kev was asleep, I carried my phone into the living room and sat down on the couch. Tar hopped up and draped himself across my lap. Augie turned a small circle and lay down on my feet. I dialed my sister-in-law's number and settled in for a long chat.

“It's really too bad how things turned out,” Bertie said now. “And kind of hard to reconcile what you've told me about that Santa Claus with the guy I met on Saturday. Because he seemed like a nice person. He was good with the kids and mostly patient with their pets.”

“
Mostly
patient?” I asked.

Bertie chuckled. “He really hated having that squirmy Gila monster in his lap.”

I shuddered lightly. I would have felt the same way.

“Did you see Poppy and Kiltie when she brought him over to have his picture taken?” I asked.

“Sure, Claire and I both did. I recognized Kiltie right away. In that crowd, he stood out like a sore thumb.”

I had to agree with her assessment: the Westie would have been hard to miss. Aside from his obvious quality, Kiltie's precise, stylized, trim would have set him apart from the rest of the children's pets.

“Poppy looked familiar, too,” Bertie said. “I guess I've seen her around the shows with her mother. When she came to the booth she had a friend with her. The girl with the Cockapoo.”

“That was Charlotte and Coco Lily. Did you notice anything out of the ordinary while they were there? Did anything unusual happen?”

Bertie thought for a minute before answering. “Nothing struck me at the time,” she said finally. “As you know, we almost always had a long line of kids waiting. So we were moving pretty fast with each one. I remember Santa saying hello to Poppy and asking her what kind of dog she had while Claire was maneuvering Kiltie into position for the picture.”

“Was it just normal chitchat?” I asked. “Something he asked all the kids?”

“Pretty much. Santa used a little small talk to put the kids at ease. He didn't treat Poppy any differently than anyone else. She gave him a big smile and told him that her dog's name was Kiltie. Poppy and that Westie were adorable together. I'm sure their picture turned out wonderfully.”

Not that anyone would ever care, I thought with a pang.

“And Santa didn't pay any special attention to Kiltie either?”

“Not that I noticed,” said Bertie. “The only ones he spent extra time with were the tough ones, the dogs who might have needed some socializing. There were a few who didn't like his beard, or his padded belly, or were just pretty damn sure that they weren't going to be sitting in some fat stranger's lap without putting up a fight.”

“Wow.” I exhaled softly. “I had no idea.” Every time I'd checked in at the photo booth everything had appeared to be running smoothly.

“It was no big deal.” Bertie brushed off my concern. “We managed. And Claire was great.”

“I'm glad,” I said. “I really like her.”

“Even though . . . ?” Bertie let the thought dangle.

I was pretty sure I knew what my sister-in-law was getting at, but I couldn't resist teasing her. “Even though what? That she was running around all day in that silly elf costume? I wasn't going to say anything, but since you've asked . . . I'll have you know that I gave Claire extra points for that.”

“Points,” Bertie muttered darkly. “If I'd had to wear that costume, you would have had to give me extra pay.”

“Oh?” I laughed. “Was I paying you?”

“Not nearly enough apparently. And don't try to change the subject. You know that wasn't what I meant. New Year's Eve? The wedding? Your ex-husband? Does any of this ring a bell?”

“Bob,” I said, even though we both knew his name.

“Yes,
Bob
. I know you guys want everyone to think that it's all copacetic between you now. But doesn't it bother you even a little bit that your ex-husband is getting remarried?”

“No,” I replied honestly. “Why should it?”

“I don't know.” I could picture Bertie's frown. “It's just what women do.”

“That's a depressing thought,” I said. “
Really?
”

“Really. Facebook. Go there. You'll be amazed by what you see.”

“No, thank you,” I replied. “I don't need that kind of drama in my life. I'd rather be happily oblivious. As for Bob, he and I have been divorced for years. And
I'm remarried
. What kind of a moron would I be if I didn't think Bob should be able to do the same?”

“Gawd,” Bertie said vehemently. “I hate it when you act like a grown-up.”

“Don't worry,” I told her. “It doesn't happen often.”

“Listen, I'm sorry not to be able to be more help about Kiltie,” Bertie said. “If I'd realized that something wonky was going to happen later, I'd have paid more attention.”

“We all would have,” I said with a sigh. “That's the beauty of hindsight.”

Discomfited by my tone, Tar opened his eyes and gazed up at me. I wrapped an arm around the big Poodle's shoulders and gave him a reassuring hug.

“Sondra McEvoy is convinced that a fellow exhibitor is behind Kiltie's disappearance,” I told Bertie. “She said she saw Jo Drummer and Chip Michaels at the bazaar. Do you have any other names for me?”

“Sure, that's easy,” Bertie replied. “LouLou Barrington came by with one of her Samoyeds. Rick Stanley brought a Cairn. Jane Brew and her partner had a pair of MinPins.”

“Thanks.” I jotted down the names. “That'll definitely get me started. If you think of any more, let me know.”

“I'll do that.” Bertie paused, then added, “I want you to know that I feel really bad about what happened. I'm sorry that Claire and I didn't do a better job of staying on top of that guy. That we didn't prevent him from sneaking out of the building with a dog—”

“Stop right there,” I said firmly. “None of this is your fault. So don't even
think
of apologizing. The only reason you were even at the bazaar is because you were doing me a favor.”

“Yeah, but I still feel guilty—”

“Don't,” I told her. “You and Claire did a great job all day. There's nothing for you to feel bad about at all. Besides, I'm going to find Kiltie and bring him home. And then this whole mess will all be over and done with.”

“I hope you're right,” said Bertie.

Despite my show of confidence, she didn't sound entirely convinced.

 

Considering that it was Tuesday—the best day of the week for catching dog show people when they might have time to spare—it was disappointing that my next three phone calls turned up nothing useful. I left messages for Jane Brew and Rick Stanley, asking them both to please call me back. And I had a very brief conversation with Chip Michaels.

I didn't know Chip personally, but the fact that he was acquainted with Sondra made me hope that he'd be willing to talk to me. Not only that, but throwing Aunt Peg's name around usually pries open any dog-related door far enough for me to wiggle through. Not this time, however.

He'd only stopped in at the bazaar for a short period of time, Chip told me in an aggrieved tone of voice. Though he'd later learned of Kiltie's disappearance, it had nothing whatsoever to do with him. He had seen nothing. He had heard nothing. End of discussion. Chip ensured that last part by hanging up the phone while I was still talking.

“That man needs better manners,” I muttered, seriously annoyed by the brush-off.

Faith, who was lying beside the couch, lifted her head and cocked an ear inquiringly. I looked down at her over Tar's back.

“Don't worry,” I said. “Your manners are great.”

I had more luck with my next call. Jo Drummer lived in Waterbury and bred and showed Border Terriers. Like Chip, she had only a very vague idea who I was. Unlike Chip, she was happy to talk.

Even though I got the impression that she was only hoping to pump me for information about Kiltie and Sondra—the duo currently starring in the hottest dog show gossip—I could hardly complain. After all, I was hoping to do the same to her.

“I'm in my car,” she said. “I'm taking a couple of puppies to handling class this afternoon in Trumbull. Why don't you meet me there?”

Trumbull was closer than Waterbury. I could be there in half an hour. That made the decision easy.

“It's a deal,” I told her.

Sam returned a few minutes later. I gave him a quick status update—kids, dogs, dinner, Kiltie, in that order—then hit the road. The address Jo gave me led me to a recreation center attached to a church on the outskirts of town. When I arrived, Jo was already in the parking lot unloading her minivan.

Now that I saw Jo, she looked familiar. We'd probably crossed paths at the shows dozens of times. I pulled the Volvo into an empty space and parked beside her.

Jo had the minivan's side door open. As I got out of my car, she was leaning into her vehicle, unlatching the door to a wire crate. When she straightened up and turned around, Jo had a puppy in her arms and a smile on her face.

“You must be Melanie,” she said. “Here, have a puppy.”

“Excuse me?”

It wasn't the greeting I'd been expecting. Even so, I found myself holding out my hands. The gesture was automatic. And fruitful. Next thing I knew, I did indeed have a puppy.

“Her name is Bella,” Jo told me as she went back into the van. “She's a sweetheart. You'll love her.”

The Border Terrier had wiry tan hair and a mischievous look on her face. Five to six months old, I guessed. Bella was already making herself comfortable in my arms. Her pink tongue came out to lick my hand. She was adorable. How could anybody
not
love her?

“This is going to work out great,” said Jo. She backed her body out of the minivan for the second time, once again holding a puppy to her chest. With ease born of practice, she lifted her knee and used it to slide the van door shut. “These two are litter mates and they both need socializing. Before you called, I was going to do half the class with each. But now that you're here, I'll handle Edward and you can take Bella.”

“Um,” I said uncertainly. “Okay.”

Jo was a stocky woman in her fifties with short, iron gray hair and a weathered face that was make-up free. Her gaze was direct and to the point. Apparently someone who'd never been unsure of anything in her life, Jo seemed baffled by my uncertainty.

“
What?
” she said. “You show dogs, right?”

I nodded. “Standard Poodles.”

“Good. That's close enough.” She fished a flat show lead out of her pocket and looped it around Bella's neck. “There. Now you're good to go.”

Who could argue with confidence like that? Certainly not me.

Cradling the puppy in my arms, I followed Jo into the rec center. The main room was already crowded with dogs and people. Most were standing in small groups talking while they waited for class to start.

A big, rectangular-shaped, ring had been set up in the middle of the room. The organizers of the class were finishing rolling out the wide rubber mats that covered the floor to give the dogs traction. Somewhere in the building, Christmas music was playing. The carols, piped into the room through a loudspeaker, gave the setting a festive air.

As I shrugged out of my coat, Jo waved at some people she knew and went to settle with the cashier. By the time she returned, handlers were already beginning to file into the ring. Jo tossed her jacket onto a fold-up chair and gestured me toward the back of the line beside her.

She leaned toward me so I could hear what she was saying above the music. “We're just here to play around and introduce them to the concept today. I want these guys to see other dogs, walk around on a leash, and get the idea that going to shows is fun. If she's squirmy on the table, or she sits down when she should be standing up, don't worry about it.” Jo nodded downward toward Bella. “Do you think you can make sure she has a good time?”

“I don't see why not,” I said.

It sounded like my kind of assignment. Good behavior was hard, fun was easy. And Bella, standing on the floor beside me and gazing around avidly, already appeared to be having a ball. She'd touched noses with the dog behind me, investigated the curling edge of the mat, and was now mesmerized by a Saint Bernard on the other side of the ring.

The instructor started the class by having us all gait once around the ring. Bella handled the commotion and the mats with ease. In no time at all, Jo and I found ourselves right back where we'd started.

The bigger breeds had gone to the front of the line and there were more than a dozen dogs ahead of us. It would be at least ten minutes until it was our turn for an individual examination. In the meantime, we could play with the puppies and talk.