A Pedigree to Die For (15 page)
“And Barry Turk?”
“He's nowhere near their league. Sometimes I think Barry's lucky to win even when he has a good one, which in itself is rare. I can't for the life of me imagine anyone being so foolish as to send a dog to him.”
“Why do people do it then?”
“Oh, he's a little cheaper, I guess. And I doubt he has a waiting list like some of the others do. Besides, the clients he gets are usually newcomers who don't know any better.”
“Too new to recognize an illicit stud dog?” I asked.
“Most certainly.”
“I wonder if Beau might have looked to Barry Turk like a ticket up in the world.”
“Maybe in more ways than one. Handlers work on something of a reward system, you know. No matter whether a dog wins or loses, they still get their fee. But some wins are worth a bonus on top of that.”
“So Barry Turk would stand to gain not only the commissions on the breedings he handled, but also the possibility of better dogs to show in the future. That could raise his earnings potential considerably.”
Barry Turk was suddenly looking very interesting indeed. “I think I'll go look at some stud dogs,” I decided.
The phone was on the counter with Turk's card beneath it. I dialed the number listed in the corner. One of his assistants answered, and we made an appointment for Tuesday morning.
Davey went to camp on Monday, then home with a friend. I spent most of the day with Aunt Peg going over a collection of photographs which chronicled Beau's development from baby puppy to majestic show dog. The last shots, taken in the early spring, showed the dog as he was now, clipped down but still displaying the elegance and carriage that were the hallmark of the Cedar Crest line.
Aunt Peg worked with me until she was sure I understood that how a Poodle was trimmed could do a great deal to fool the eye. Since Beau had now been missing for six weeks, it was possible that at least superficially, he could look entirely different. She outlined his virtues and his faults, and drilled me until she was comfortable with my knowledge of both.
We were almost done by late afternoon. Aunt Peg had Simba, who was Beau's half sister, in the living room, and we were going over her one last time when the doorbell rang.
“Probably a delivery,” Aunt Peg said as the Poodles ran from all corners of the house to mass in the front hall. I followed her out to see.
It wasn't a delivery. It was Sam Driver. Aunt Peg grinned. I gulped. The Poodles like all visitors; they went wild.
You know how sometimes the hair stands up on the back of your neck and you just know something's going to go wrong? That's how I felt. Unfortunately there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.
Sixteen
If Sam was surprised to find me at Margaret Turnbull's house, his expression didn't betray it. Then again, he was pretty busy as Aunt Peg opened the door and the inevitable onslaught of Poodles all but knocked him over. He handled the barrage with aplomb, however, greeting each of the big dogs with a pat on the head or a tweak beneath the chin.
As the Poodles danced happily around his legs, Sam looked up at me. “I see you took my advice.”
It took me a minute to figure out what he was talking about. Then I remembered that he'd been one of several people who'd directed me to Aunt Peg. Obviously he thought I was there in my guise as a stud-dog shopper.
Before I could reply, he was already turning to Peg. “I apologize for barging in like this. I wanted to talk to you about something, and I took a chance that you might be free. Obviously it's better if I come back another time.”
“Not at all. I'm delighted to see you.” Aunt Peg was at her gracious best. She counted noses as the Poodles ushered Sam inside, then shut the door behind them. “Now then, what advice did you give to Melanie?”
“Sam was one of the people who recommended that I speak with you about a stud dog,” I said quickly.
“How nice.” Aunt Peg patted his arm. “You have very good taste.”
“You have very good Poodles.”
Just what I neededâa mutual admiration society. Aunt Peg and I were just about through, but it wasn't only curiosity that kept me from leaving. I knew how she felt about Sam Driver. The minute I was gone, she'd probably spill the beans about everything.
“Of course that wasn't really necessaryâ”
“Aunt Peg!”
“You see Melanie is actually my niece.”
So much for my good influence. I guessed that meant now I could go.
“Your niece?” Now Sam looked surprised. To his credit, he recovered quickly. “Then I guess that must mean that Beau is missing. I heard a rumor down in New Jersey this past weekend. That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Well good, I'm glad you're here. Come on into the living room and get comfortable.”
Sam walked in and sat down. Gracie, who, until the doorbell rang, had been lying at my feet, crossed the room and climbed up into his lap. That traitor.
Aunt Peg watched with approval as the Poodle turned a precarious circle over his legs, then settled down to drape across his knees. Obviously neither one of them saw anything unusual about having an animal the size of a small pony set up housekeeping in someone's lap.
“Who was talking about Beau?” I asked.
Driver thought for a moment. “I'm pretty sure it was Mildred Davis. She and Crawford were standing ringside, and I overheard them discussing it.”
“Interesting,” Peg said. “I've been trying to keep the whole thing quiet, but you know how small the dog world is. Word was bound to get out sooner or later. Beau isn't just missing, Sam. I'm quite certain he was stolen. He disappeared from our kennel the night my husband Max died.”
That silenced him for a bit. “So the dog Melanie is shopping for is Beau,” he said finally. “I guess that makes sense in a roundabout sort of way. Have you come up with any leads?”
“We have several,” I said firmly. It was one thing for me to wonder if our methods were working. It was quite another for Sam Driver to question their efficiency. “Not that I'm sure it's any of your business.”
“Perhaps not. But I'd like to help.”
Aunt Peg grinned enthusiastically. “How?”
“The scheme you're working isn't perfect, but it's not all bad either. It seems to me that things would go a lot faster if there were two of us out there asking questions.”
Aunt Peg and I exchanged a glance.
“Think about it,” said Sam. “I'm a new face on the East Coast. Most of the Poodle people here don't know any more about me than they do about Melanie. There's no reason why they shouldn't accept my queries at face value.”
Aunt Peg was nodding as he spoke.
I wasn't that easy to convince. “So far we've done just fine on our own.”
“Have you? It's been what . . . ? At least six weeks. And you still don't seem to have any idea where Beau is. I'd say you can use all the help you can get. Two people can cover a lot more ground than one.”
“Which probably means that much of the same work will get done twice.”
“I don't see that as a problem,” Sam told me. “In that case, there's less chance that we'll miss something important. ”
His argument made sense, but that didn't mean I was buying it. The harder Sam pushed, the more I wanted to shove him right back. It wasn't the first time he'd had that effect on me, and the whole thing left me feeling distinctly uncomfortable.
Aunt Peg had listened to both sides. I could see she was wavering. “It's very kind of you to offerâ”
“Believe me,” Sam broke in, “there is nothing kind about my offer at all. I want Beau. I have for a long time. I still haven't given up on the idea that you might agree to sell him to me, but barring that, at the very least, I plan to breed to him. So you see I have a stake in getting the dog back, just as you do.”
He sounded sincere, I had to give him that. So why did it all seem so smooth, and maybe just a little too easy?
He and Aunt Peg were smiling at each other like old friends. Thick as thieves, I thought. The aptness of the phrase brought me to my feet.
“Aunt Peg, could I see you in the kitchen for a minute?”
“Now?” Her tone clearly questioned the quality of my upbringing.
I nodded.
“If you'll excuse us, Sam?”
“Of course.” Gracie tilted back her head and licked his chin. He was scratching behind her ears when we left the room.
I waited until the kitchen door had swung shut behind us. Aunt Peg had no such inhibitions. “Now what?” she demanded.
If she'd been any louder, we might as well have stayed in the living room and spoken in front of him. Deliberately I lowered my own voice. “I think we need to move a little more slowly here. Has it occurred to you that despite what he says, Sam Driver may be the one who has the dog? He admitted himself that he was desperate to get him. Maybe he only came over here today to see how much we've learned.”
Aunt Peg's lips twitched at that. “Then we've certainly disappointed him, haven't we? Melanie dear, what he said was true. It's been six weeks and we're no closer to finding Beau than we were at the beginning. We have to widen our search. And if Sam can help us do that, so much the better.”
I knew that I was fighting a losing battle. The problem was, half of me agreed with Aunt Peg. Unfortunately, the other half wanted to run like hell. So I dug in my heels and kept arguing.
“Once we agree to work with Sam, he's going to know every move we make.”
“Yes, and while he's watching us, we can be watching him. Quite frankly, if he isn't on the up and up, I can't think of a better way to keep an eye on him.”
As usual, she had a point.
“I'm beginning to get the impression you're not going to let me talk you out of this.”
“It's about time,” said Aunt Peg. “Now that we've got that settled, do you suppose he should go with you to visit Barry Turk tomorrow?”
For all I knew, seeing the handler might provide the discovery we'd been waiting for all along. No way was I going to have Sam Driver horning in on my big moment.
“Definitely not. This is my lead. I'm going to follow it up.”
“As you wish.” Having won the war, Aunt Peg conceded the last battle. “Now let's go back out and see to our guest.”
Sam was sitting in the chair where we'd left him. He started to rise when we entered, then glanced down at Gracie and thought better of it. “Is everything all right?”
“Just fine,” Aunt Peg said happily.
We spent the next few minutes discussing which of the upcoming shows Sam and Aunt Peg had entered, and who among the circle of local exhibitors I'd already spoken to. Counting on Aunt Peg's discretion is a little like hoping for clouds during drought season, but for once she followed my lead and never even mentioned Barry Turk's name. By the time she and I walked Sam to the door, the plan was a go.
Outside, Sam paused on the step. “You know I haven't had a chance to meet many people in Connecticut yet. All I've done since I got here is work and go to dog shows. I was thinking maybe we could get together sometime and you could show me some of the local sights.”
I have to admit, the invitation caught me by surprise. But immediately the cynic in me had an answer ready. Sam knew he'd won over Aunt Peg. Now, no doubt, he wanted my compliance, too. If so, I wasn't going to make it easy for him.
“Connecticut's actually a pretty dull state,” I said. “There isn't much to see.”
“Really?” Sam grinned. “I guess you don't work for the Chamber of Commerce.”
“I'm a teacher,” I said shortly, not that he'd really asked. Then I threw out the clincher, the one that separates the men from the boys. “And a mother. I have a four-year-old son, Davey.”
“You're married then?”
“Divorced. So I like to make sure I spend as much time with Davey as I can.”
Over his shoulder, Aunt Peg was watching the exchange with amusement. I felt like a ninth grader coming home from a date to find her parents waiting on the porch.
“Bring him with you,” said Sam.
If it was a bluff, he was pretty damn convincing. But when I shook my head, Sam didn't push it. Of course then I had to tell myself that I wasn't disappointed he hadn't tried harder.
“Shame on you,” Aunt Peg said we watched him stride down the walk and get into his car. “Letting a man like that get away.”
I didn't need her to tell me what I was already telling myself. Instead I snapped back, “If you're so interested, why didn't you take him up on his offer?”
“I wasn't the one who was asked.”
“This is the nineties, Aunt Peg. A liberated woman doesn't have to wait to be asked.”
She snorted under her breath. “A lot of us were liberated in my day, too. We just didn't feel obliged to hit people over the head with it.”
Peg shut the door, and we watched through the glass as Sam's car disappeared down the driveway. We both turned away when it was gone.
“How long are you going to keep using that child as a buffer against things you don't want to face?” Aunt Peg asked abruptly.
“As long as I want to.”
For once, that shut her up.
Now I had two problems to contend withâAunt Peg's missing Poodle and a partner I didn't want. It was a tossup as to which one worried me more.
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