Hounded to Death (24 page)

“Good boy!” Aunt Peg said. “You are such a smart dog.”

Walter wagged his tail happily in agreement. He
was
a smart dog, and wasn't it nice to have people around him again who cared about things like that?

I let my hand drift downward until it rested just behind his ears. I half expected the Shepherd to scoot away, but he didn't. Instead, he remained motionless. Still a bit wary, but hoping for the best.

When I scratched the base of Walter's ears with my fingers, he closed his eyes and leaned into me. I could hardly believe he was the same half-wild dog who'd been crouched on the bed earlier. Aunt Peg's magical touch had worked wonders.

“Now that you've got him,” I said, “what are you going to do with him?”

“What? I can't hear you.”

Aunt Peg had gone into the bathroom. She was gathering up the towels Walter had pulled off the racks and used to make a nest on the floor while he awaited her return.

Even so, she wasn't that far away. I was sure she'd heard what I'd said. And if Aunt Peg was dodging a perfectly sensible question like that, I knew there had to be a reason. Probably one that I wasn't going to like.

“Tell me you're not planning to take him home with you.”

She appeared in the doorway, arms gathered around a mound of towels.

“Not if I can help it.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means there are plenty of other avenues I can explore first. Best case, he can go back home to whoever lost him.”

“Unless he was abandoned,” I said. “And not lost.”

“Either way, the situation Walter finds himself in isn't his fault. I'm going to make up some fliers and post them at the local vets and markets. Check with the nearest pound and maybe the dog warden if I can find one. Don't worry, I have plenty of ideas.”

Aunt Peg smiled down at Walter, who reciprocated by flapping the tip of his tail against the rug. The two of them were bonding right before my eyes.

“If that doesn't work, I'll contact the local German Shepherd affiliate club and see what their rescue people are up to. Maybe they can find a home for him. Perhaps they have one waiting even now. It seems like the least I can do. After all, it's not as though I lack for resources in this area.”

This area
being dogs and anything that pertained to them. No, no one had ever accused Aunt Peg of lacking resources. Or good ideas.

“Isn't it interesting how things work out?” said Peg. She sounded quite pleased with herself. “It looks like you're not the only one with a mystery on her hands.”

“H
ere's a thought,” I said.

I sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed, weight still balanced mostly on my feet. Just in case I needed to make a quick getaway.

“About Walter?”

“No, about Florence.”

“I don't believe I need a thought about Florence.”

No one, least of all me, ever said that my aunt wasn't hardheaded.

“I was thinking you could call Richard and get him to talk some sense into her.”

“That's not a good idea,” Aunt Peg said shortly.

“It's a very good idea. Just because you're in denial doesn't mean you don't have a problem. Florence needs to step up and tell the truth. Otherwise these rumors flying around here are only going to get worse.”

“Since when have you paid attention to gossip?” Aunt Peg demanded. “I thought I raised you better than that.”

Aunt Peg hadn't raised me at all, which was probably beside the point. And I
always
listened to rumors, because they often contained a kernel of truth.

Now, however, didn't seem like the time to mention that.

“Here's another thought,” I said instead. “Maybe Richard has succeeded in getting more information out of his mother. Wouldn't you like to know what really happened—”

“No.”

“
No
?” I echoed.

The answer defied credibility. Aunt Peg was the nosiest person I knew. She always wanted to know what happened. This whole conversation was beginning to take on a slightly surreal cast.

“I'm not calling Richard, and that's final.”

“Why not?”

“Because the man is an ass.”

My aunt rarely swears, so that got my attention. But to tell the truth, where their relationship was concerned, I was beginning to feel like I had whiplash. The last time I'd seen Aunt Peg and Richard together, they'd at least been speaking to one another, hadn't they?

I sat back on the bed and settled in to hear the rest of the story. Peg, meanwhile, had begun to pace. Her steps carried her from one end of the small room to the other.

Walter chose an out-of-the-way spot and hunkered down to watch. His dark eyes followed her every move.

“What's happened now?” I asked.

“For starters, Richard owes me an apology, which I've never received….”

Presumably that was for the argument that had preceded Aunt Peg's storming from the dining room the previous evening. I nodded.

“Not to mention a thank-you for helping his mother…”

I nodded again. I readily concurred, but even if I hadn't it hardly seemed like a prudent time to disagree.

“And then, as if that wasn't enough, I never heard from him last night. Richard was supposed to call me from the hospital, which he never bothered to do. Instead his mother was the one burning up the telephone lines, telling the rest of the inn's guests some crazy, trumped-up story that never should have been allowed to surface in the first place.”

“You're right,” I said. “The man is an ass.”

“That's not all.” Aunt Peg was getting warmed up now.

“What else?”

As if she needed an invitation. I probably couldn't have stopped her if I'd tried.

“So, being the big person that I am, I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. This morning, I called him. And he
whispered
into the phone that he couldn't talk.”

“He must have been with Florence.”

Aunt Peg scowled mightily. “Of course he was with Florence. He's
always
with Florence. He said he'd come to my room to see me. Well, as you can imagine, I couldn't have that.”

As one, we turned to look at Walter. Tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth, teeth shiny and white, the German Shepherd grinned back at us. No, this was not the time for Aunt Peg to be entertaining Richard in her room.

“Why didn't you meet him downstairs?”

“Because that would have been too easy,” Aunt Peg snapped.

She turned and stared out of the window. When she continued speaking, I couldn't see her expression, just the stiffness in her shoulders and the rigid set of her spine.

“After what happened last night apparently Richard doesn't want to be seen with me in public.”

“
He told you that?
”

“Not exactly. He hasn't got the guts to be that truthful. But from the way he danced around the topic, it was easy enough to figure out. So you can just forget any notion you might have about him worming the truth out of his mother and setting the record straight. It isn't going to happen.”

“What a louse.” I was furious on her behalf. “Florence must have told him the same story she told everyone else. But he should have known better. He was there. He saw that we were trying to help her. Why would he believe such a thing?”

“She's his mother.”

“Even so.”

She turned and nailed me with a glare. “Let this be a lesson to you.”

“To me? What did I do?”

“You're pregnant, remember?”

Trust me, pregnancy is one of those things that's hard to forget.

“When that baby arrives, don't smother him. And don't tell him lies. And while you're at it, don't let him pick up any women on the Internet.”

All those things seemed very far in the future. But Aunt Peg didn't want to hear any protests. She was looking for agreement.

“Yes, ma'am,” I said.

Luckily, before Aunt Peg could offer any more parenting advice, a knock sounded at the door.

“Hey in there,” Bertie called. “Who am I supposed to be not-disturbing? Can I come in?”

I jumped up from the bed, opened the door, and slipped out.

“You could,” I said. “But you don't want to. Let's take a walk.”

I grabbed her arm and pulled her down the hallway.

“Where are we going?”

“Anywhere but here.”

“Why?” She skidded to a stop and gave me a suspicious look. “Who else is in there?”

“Aunt Peg. She's holding a postmortem on her relationship with Richard.”

“That's dead? When did that happen?”

“It's a new development.”

Bertie brightened. “I wouldn't mind hearing about that.”

“Aunt Peg is also offering advice on how to be a good mother.”

“Oh.”

Bertie resumed walking. A mother herself, she had been treated to Aunt Peg's parenting advice before. On more occasions than she cared to count. Like me, she knew the value in making herself scarce when Aunt Peg was on a tear.

“Okay, new plan,” she said. “Let's go downstairs and see what's new.”

We descended the wide staircase into the lobby. The afternoon seminars hadn't started yet, which meant that most of the symposium participants were either gathered in small groups talking or else milling around trying to look busy.

“I don't see Tubby,” I said.

“No great loss.”

“I want to talk to him.”

“Yuck.” Bertie paused at the foot of the steps. “Why would anyone want to do that on purpose?”

“Because he and Charles didn't like each other. And since Charles is dead, I'd like to know why. I was thinking you might want to come along for moral support.”

“You mean so he can grab my ass instead of yours?”

“Whatever works.”

“Easy for you to say.” Bertie was not amused. “If you want to sacrifice yourself on the altar of private detection, feel free. Me, I'll find something else to do.”

“Come on,” I said. “Be a sport.”

“I will. I'll tell you where to find Tubby. After that you're on your own. Keep an eye on his hands at all times and don't let him lure you into any dark corners.”

“Do I look that stupid?”

“No, but neither does Alana, and you should hear the Tubby stories she tells.”

“Alana has a story for every occasion,” I pointed out. “And every man.”

“Of course she does. It's part of her mystique.” Bertie saw someone she knew on the other side of the room and lifted a hand to wave. “Gotta go. Look for Tubby in the bar. He's nearly always there.”

“This early in the day?”

“Some detective you are,” Bertie sniffed. “Tubby starts drinking as soon as they start serving.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

“It's your funeral. Ta!”

Bertie's guess was spot on. Only two tables in the bar were currently in use and Tubby was seated at one of them. His hands were curled around a glass of whiskey, and his eyes were fastened on a flat screen TV on the wall.

ESPN was showing soccer and, lucky for me, Tubby was alone.

“Mind if I join you?” I asked.

Tubby tore his eyes away from a beer commercial. He didn't look entirely pleased to see me. “I guess not. To what do I owe the honor?”

“I was hoping I could ask you a couple of questions.”

“I heard you've been running around bugging everybody. I suppose this means it's my turn.”

“I'm interested in seeing Charles's killer brought to justice,” I said. “Aren't you?”

“Not particularly. But then you probably already know that. Otherwise, why would you be here?”

Score one for Tubby. He wasn't as dumb as he allowed himself to look.

“Did the police question you about what happened?”

“No, why would they? There are over a hundred and fifty judges and dog fanciers here. It's not like they can talk to every single one.”

“Even so, I'd think they would have wanted to talk to you. You haven't made any secret of your contempt for Charles.”

Tubby smiled complacently. “That doesn't mean that I killed him.”

“Ma'am?” The bartender appeared at my elbow. “Can I get you something?”

I started to shake my head but Tubby answered for me. “Bring the lady a white wine.”

“No,” I said quickly, “I'm not drinking.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot. You're the water lady. Just one won't hurt.”

“I'm fine, really.”

“Jeez, have
something
, would you?”

So I ordered more water.

“You must not be much of an interrogator,” Tubby said. “Don't you know that the first rule is to put your subject at ease?”

“There are rules to this? I didn't know that.”

“You're a treat, aren't you? Okay, since you missed out on the first opportunity to gain my cooperation, let's go for number two. What are the chances you could set me up with that girlfriend of yours…you know, the redhead?”

“Bertie?”

“Yeah, that's the one. She's a fine looking lady.”

“She's a fine looking married lady. Bertie's married to my brother.”

“And he lets her go running off all over the country on her own? He must be some kind of idiot.”

“He's not an idiot. He trusts her.”

“Right.” Tubby smirked. “So what
are
you going to offer me?”

“Nothing,” I said. “Talk is cheap, haven't you heard?”

“Funny girl. All right, let's quit wasting each other's time. Ask me what you want to know. Maybe I'll answer, maybe I won't.”

“Why did you dislike Charles so much?”

“The man was a prick. Next question.”

He wasn't going to get off the hook that easily.

“Define prick.”

Tubby frowned. “It's got different meanings for different people. In Charles's case, I'd say we're talking pompous, sanctimonious, self-serving. You know, the basic prick-like qualities.”

“Last night at dinner you said Charles liked to tell other people what to do. I think you called him the ethics police.”

“What of it?”

“I heard you might have had a little problem in that department yourself.”

Tubby took a long swallow of whiskey, then said, “I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about.”

He was going to make me work for it. No problemo, I could do that.

“The first night we were here, Margo was talking to my aunt. She mentioned that she was worried about a judging scandal that was about to explode.”

“Really? What kind of scandal?”