Never Say Sty (28 page)
Authors: Linda O. Johnston
Dante wasn’t there, though, so neither was Wagner. I approached the judges’ table. I wasn’t sure how much Brody was willing to share, and I couldn’t outright ask him where things stood in his investigation on Dante’s behalf. Nor did I wish, without an information exchange, to spew out the results of my conversation with Cora Rosalian about piggy harnesses, and my frustration that she hadn’t yet responded to my e-mail. Of course everyone here except the dogs was on the list I’d sent to Ms. Rosalian as possible suspects—including Brody.
In the interest of discretion, I just said hi to the three judges. Brody’s grin was inevitably perfect. Eliza seemed somewhat distracted as she shuffled through papers on the table before her, but she gave a friendly wave. I wasn’t certain what to expect from Matilda, but she rose and motioned me to the side. I bent my head to hear what she had to say.
“Kendra, I want to apologize for the way I’ve been acting.” Her voice was soft and sounded emotional, yet not way out there. “I know I seem flaky sometimes. I mean, that burglar alarm at my house . . . I might have set it off myself. Who knows? But the thing is, I know now how much Sebastian’s death has gotten to me, especially since it was intentional.” She shook her head, not budging even a single hair of her short blonde cap.
I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Corina Carey had edged up behind us, eavesdropping. I really didn’t want the results of this conversation to wind up on
National NewsShakers
, so any questions I had for Matilda would have to wait.
National NewsShakers
, so any questions I had for Matilda would have to wait.
“I understand,” I whispered. “We’re all on edge. But as you know, I’m trying to help some friends whom the cops consider suspects—two owners of potbellied pig contestants.”
“That detective and his sister,” Matilda all but spat. “They were really upset about how Sebastian criticized them oncamera. You may be wasting your time, Kendra, if you really think you can clear them.”
“But—” I caught myself quickly. I’d really be wasting something—my breath—if I argued with her. But why was she so convinced that the Noralles siblings could be guilty?
Did
she
have a guilty conscience?
she
have a guilty conscience?
No opportunity to ponder then. Show time! Hosts Rick and Rachel, both dressed delightfully for the camera, announced that
Animal Auditions
was about to begin. They introduced each other, the doggy contestants, and the judges. Matilda had returned to the table, and smiled and waved along with the rest.
Animal Auditions
was about to begin. They introduced each other, the doggy contestants, and the judges. Matilda had returned to the table, and smiled and waved along with the rest.
Tonight’s scenario would be a sequel of sorts to the last—a slightly more advanced canine baseball game. I watched each contestant carefully, along with their owners. And our production staff. And especially our judges. Not to mention those in the audience I recognized—including, surprisingly, detectives Howard Wherlon and Vickie Schwinglan. I thought they’d already made up their small minds and weren’t seeking other suspects. Or did they simply enjoy the show?
I got a kick out of this day’s contest. The dogs were adorable, and even when they didn’t obey their owners, they appeared to have a good time.
The judges were critical, but none was as nasty as Sebastian. Brody cracked jokes, earning occasional glares from his companions, but even Matilda sometimes smiled. And Eliza laughed a lot.
When it was over, I felt as exhausted as if I’d run with the dogs. And as frustrated as I’d ever felt. I had a feeling I was missing something in my investigation of Sebastian’s death—but at that point I had no idea what it was.
A LITTLE LATER, his judging duties dispensed with for the day, Brody accompanied me to my new car. “Hey, I like it,” he said, eying my Escape. “Anything new to report in your investigation?”
“Not much.”
“But there might be something?”
I pushed the button to open the door. “Not necessarily, but I’d be glad to keep you filled in if you promise you’ll keep me in the loop with whatever Dante has you doing.”
“As much as I can,” Brody said with a shrug that might have seemed apologetic from another man. But considering his unrevealed relationship with Dante, I suspected it simply meant “Deal with it.”
I called Dante as I headed toward Darryl’s to pick up Lexie, but only got voice mail. Where was he? Why hadn’t he come to this taping?
As I slipped inside Doggy Indulgence, Lexie spotted me from across the room and lunged in my direction. I noticed that Princess, the crying Brittany spaniel, was still here, and wondered when Wanda would pick her up to hang out at home with her. I’d call her shortly to make sure all was in order.
Then I noticed that Lexie wasn’t the only Cavalier present. Was that Wanda’s Basil playing with a rag toy in one of the doggy play areas? I looked around but didn’t see my pet-sitting friend. Maybe she’d left Basil here in anticipation of picking up both Princess and him later.
“Is Darryl here?” I inquired of the ungracious Kiki, who shoved the papers at me to log Lexie out. Holding my pup’s leash, I signed where I should as Kiki nodded slightly toward Darryl’s office.
I knocked but didn’t wait for his response before pushing the door open. He sat facing his desk instead of behind it, and Wanda was there beside him.
“Oh, you’re here,” I said unnecessarily. “Is everything on for tonight? Will you be with Princess till Annie gets back to the Jeongs’?”
“Sure.” She stood up. Wanda wore one of her usual gauzy tops over jeans. I looked down to meet her gaze. There was something uncomfortably bright about her demeanor. I was about to ask if she was okay when she said, “Darryl and I have been discussing a possible solution for Princess and her family. I need to make some calls. If it seems feasible, I’ll tell you about it and you can suggest it to your clients.”
“That’s a bit obscure, don’t you think?” I folded my arms.
“I don’t think Wanda wants to disappoint you if it doesn’t work out,” Darryl said. My lanky friend also seemed discomfited. At that moment, I wished I could read minds. How offbeat was their possible suggestion for Princess? And if they were that embarrassed to present it, how could it ever work?
“Well, let me know as soon as you can, okay? I hope it works. I could use something definitive to resolve a problem right now.” I took Lexie’s leash and walked out.
I let Lexie into the backseat of the Escape and got behind the wheel. “Let’s go pet-sitting,” I said, and was rewarded by some hefty tail-wagging that I watched in the rearview mirror.
I was disappointed when we returned home. Dante’s Mercedes wasn’t parked in our driveway.
After Lexie and I grabbed a quick dinner, hers from a can of specially prepared doggy food and mine a nuked frozen dinner, I booted up my computer.
I still hadn’t received the information I’d hoped for from Cora Rosalian on locally shipped piggy harnesses. Was she intending to respond, or had she simply humored me to get me off the phone?
I watched TV, first an improbable crime-solving drama that gave me no ideas at all about how to help Ned and Nita, and then local news.
Ned and Nita . . . I couldn’t help worrying about them, so, despite the late hour, I called Ned. He answered, and it was especially good to hear his voice, since that meant he wasn’t incarcerated for the murder . . . yet, at least.
But he still sounded despondent. “I didn’t confess to anything yet, Kendra,” he said. “But my so-called friends are still trying damned hard to get enough to hold Nita. You know, I get so angry with her at times for losing her temper. I even thought for a while that she could have done it—but that was so stupid! At least that lawyer Skull’s a good guy and isn’t letting them get away with holding her . . . yet. I don’t suppose you’ve figured out who really throttled that jerk Sebastian.”
“I’d tell you if I did. How about Jeff?”
“Nothing there, either. But I appreciate you both for trying.”
No word from Jeff that night, which was okay with me. Nor from Dante . . . which wasn’t.
Where was he? And why did I care so damned much?
Chapter Twenty-five
THE NEXT DAY was Saturday. Though Darryl kept Doggy Indulgence open on weekends to accommodate customers in the entertainment industry, I decided Lexie could stay home alone for a few hours. I engaged first in some pet-sitting, and then began the research into Sebastian’s background that I’d been looking forward to for a while.
I aimed my Escape toward Anaheim and that day’s agility trials there. Although Dante had expressed an interest in coming with me, it turned out he was too busy that day. Probably a good thing. I didn’t need his distraction or designation of what I should do.
The event was in a large, open field with parking in a paved area at one side. I knew I was in the right place when I saw several people whose frisky leashed pups cavorted beside them.
Unlike regular dog shows, where conformation counts, agility trials don’t require that entrants be purebred pups any more than we did at
Animal Auditions
. As a result, when I reached the dual dirt rings inside the earthy-smelling arena, I saw doggies of all sizes and shapes. The people with them—also of all shapes, sizes, and ages—had slapped entry numbers on their shirts or hats, sometimes multiple ones, indicating they might have more than one dog to run through literal hoops.
Animal Auditions
. As a result, when I reached the dual dirt rings inside the earthy-smelling arena, I saw doggies of all sizes and shapes. The people with them—also of all shapes, sizes, and ages—had slapped entry numbers on their shirts or hats, sometimes multiple ones, indicating they might have more than one dog to run through literal hoops.
Things were already under way when I arrived, so I watched for a while, enjoying the excitement as dogs started off after a mechanical voice saying “Go.” Their handlers urging them on, they leaped over hurdles and raced through tunnels, then stopped on the five-second pause table while those same humans encouraged them to stay still. Then they were off again, basking in applause as they finished.
I’d watched some agility shows on TV, but never before in person. I knew enough, though, to understand that the people in the rings in addition to the encouraging trainers were judges. When judges raised their hands, it sometimes spelled doom. They were in control. As I’d already been told, agility dogs started with 100 points, and each lift of a judge’s hand signaled the scorer sitting at a table with a timekeeper to take off some of those precious points. The dog with the highest remaining number was the winner. Plus, the canine entrants strived to meet standards that would give them titles starting with Novice and going all the way up to MACH: Master Agility Champion.
But I wasn’t here solely to enjoy the show. No, what I needed was to understand how Sebastian Czykovski had started his canine-oriented career as an agility trainer and had become an agility judge, which somehow had led to his last role on
Animal Auditions
.
Animal Auditions
.
He had been a member of this very club, Agility of Anaheim. I had stood around gawking long enough. I admit, though, that I got a kick out of the doggies who pranced around on leashes outside the rings, awaiting their turns to show off inside.
I sidled over to where someone who appeared involved with the show stood making notes on a pad. “This is really something,” I said. “It’s the first time I’ve ever come to an agility match.”
The lady with glasses perched at the end of her nose looked over them at me with what appeared to be incredulity. “Really?”
I nodded. “I have a dog at home I’m considering training for agility, so I’d like to learn as much as I can.”
“How old is he, and how well trained?”
I made it up as I went along. In actuality, Lexie—a
she
—was four years old and was her own dog, training me as much as I trained her. I doubted she’d do well on an arduous agility course. But the dog I described was younger and absolutely trainable.
she
—was four years old and was her own dog, training me as much as I trained her. I doubted she’d do well on an arduous agility course. But the dog I described was younger and absolutely trainable.
“Maybe,” the woman drew out the word dubiously, still not sure about committing any confidence to me.
“But what I want to understand is the judging. How does that work?”
“Judges do a lot,” she said. “They arrange the courses before each match. They decide where to put the numbered pylons that tell the order in which the dogs are to approach each obstacle and which way they’re supposed to go.”
“And they also decide who gets points taken off for taking too much time or refusals to jump or missed contacts with parts of the obstacles, right?”
She nodded, smiling for the first time. “Sounds as if you’ve at least done some research. I’m Janice Adams, president of the Anaheim Agility Club. And you’re . . . ?”
“Kendra Ballantyne. Actually, I’m here under false pretenses. I’m one of the producers of the reality show
Animal Auditions
on the Nature Network, and I’m considering whether to use any agility scenarios on the show.”
Animal Auditions
on the Nature Network, and I’m considering whether to use any agility scenarios on the show.”
Janice frowned. “That’s the show where Sebastian Czykovski was a judge, isn’t it?”
I nodded. “That’s what gave me the idea to consider an agility scenario. Did you know him?”
“Yes.” Her response was curt.
“I gather he was as hard to get along with as an agility judge as he was on our show.”
By then, all contestants had done their rounds through the closest course, and several people with dogs on leashes approached us, happily discussing who had won and why.
“You could say that,” Janice agreed. She waved over one of the people. “Kathy, this lady is with
Animal Auditions
. She wants to know about Sebastian.”
Animal Auditions
. She wants to know about Sebastian.”
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