Raining Cats & Dogs (A Melanie Travis Mystery) (6 page)

My gaze was drawn to an elderly woman, who was sitting by herself on the fringe of the activity. While everyone else was looking at the dogs, she alone was staring out the window. Her gnarled fingers clasped and unclasped a lap robe that had been placed over her knees as she gazed off into the distance. I wondered why she was there with the others if she hadn’t wanted to take part in the program.

As always, Faith picked up on what I was feeling. Striding out confidently, she headed in the woman’s direction. Automatically, I followed along behind.

We’d almost reached her before the woman even turned around. When she did, she didn’t look happy to see us. She arched one penciled eyebrow imperiously upward and demanded, “Well?”

The gesture and her tone reminded me so much of Aunt Peg that I couldn’t help but smile.

The woman stared at me coolly.

“I just came over to say hello,” I said.

“Hello.” She nodded curtly. “Is that it?”

“I’m Melanie. And this is Faith.”

“Now I suppose you want me to tell you my name.”

Nearby, a card table surrounded by four straight-backed chairs sat empty. I pulled one of the chairs over and sat down. “If you like.”

“What I don’t much like,” she said, “is dogs.”

I glanced at the Poodle, who was standing between us. Catching Faith’s eye, I patted the side of my thigh and said, “Sit.” Faith circled away from the woman, nudged herself up against me, and sat.

“Even obedient ones,” she said, though her voice seemed to have lost some of its starch.

“You’re in the wrong place, then. At least for the next hour or so. Would you like me to find a nurse who can take you somewhere else?”

“No, I don’t want to go someplace else!”

Oops. The imperious tone was back.

“I like it here, in the sun. I just have no desire to be bothered by a pack of dirty, slobbering canines.”

“Okay,” I said, pushing back my chair. That certainly made things clear enough. “I’m sorry Faith and I have bothered you.”

“Cats,” the woman said as I stood up to go.

“Pardon me?”

“I like cats. Always have. Nice, tidy creatures. Good hunters. Independent. Not always throwing themselves at a person begging for attention.”

“I’m sorry,” I said helplessly. This wasn’t at all the way I’d expected things to go.

“What’s that?”

“I said I’m sorry.”

“About what?”

“I guess,” I said, “I’m sorry I didn’t bring a cat.”

“Do you have a cat?”

“Actually…no.”

“Well, then you would have had a hard time bringing one, wouldn’t you?”

Good point.

“Nobody ever brings cats,” the woman said. “Why is that?”

As if I looked like the kind of person who would have that answer.

“Maybe because they’re afraid they’ll scratch?” I ventured.

She sucked in an annoyed breath. “You really don’t know much, do you?”

“Apparently not,” I agreed. It seemed like the wisest course of action under the circumstances.

“Go.” Her hand lifted from the lap robe and made a shooing gesture in my direction. I couldn’t comply fast enough.

Then, unexpectedly, as Faith and I started to walk away, her voice stopped me. “Mrs. Ellis,” she said.

I paused and looked back at her.

“Caroline Baxter Ellis,” she said. “And you’re Melanie. And that…” She lifted her hand, and her finger was shaking ever so slightly as it pointed at my Poodle, “…is Faith.”

“Yes.”

“Silly name for a dog,” she sniffed.

W
e’d been dismissed again.

This time Faith and I made good our escape. In fact, we were walking so fast that it crossed my mind to head straight for the door and just keep going. I could find my way back to the car, and Faith and I would be on our way before anyone even had a chance to miss us.

Before I could put that plan into action, however, we were waylaid by Paul. He fell into step beside me, dropped a comforting arm around my shoulder, and steered me back toward the center of the crowded room.

“I see you met Mrs. Ellis,” he said sympathetically.

I nodded.

“Sorry about that. I probably should have warned you. She doesn’t like dogs.”

Was it just me, or was it a little late to be telling me that
now
?

“I want to introduce you to my aunt,” said Paul. “She’s going to love you.”

That would be a pleasant change, I thought.

“She loves everybody,” he added brightly.

“Including dogs?”

“She adores dogs.”

Paul’s aunt sounded like an easy touch. Just what Faith and I needed.

In contrast to Mrs. Ellis, Mary Livingston was seated in the center of a long couch, right in the middle of all the activity. Friends sat on plump cushions on either side of her. I’d wondered where Paul had left Cora when he came to get me. Now I saw that the chubby Corgi was nestled happily in his great-aunt’s lap. Cora was lolling on her back, tongue hanging out of the side of her mouth, stubby legs paddling in the air in time with the hand that was rubbing her stomach.

Mary Livingston used that hand to shake mine when we were introduced. “I hope you’ll call me Aunt Mary. Everybody does. And pardon me if I don’t get up. This little dog weighs an inordinate amount for her size.” She gazed over at her nephew. “When it comes to keeping Cora in shape, I’m afraid Paul is entirely too soft a touch.”

He looked amused. “Or maybe that has something to do with the liver treats that every dog here knows you keep in your pockets.”

“Guilty as charged, I’m afraid.”

Mary turned to her friends and made the introductions. On her left was Madeline Reeves, a kindly looking woman with smartly styled gray hair and a ready smile. She wore a silk dress and an elegant gold watch with a diamond-encrusted bezel. A pink cashmere cardigan was tossed jauntily over her shoulders for warmth.

Borden Grey sat on the other side. He rose when we were introduced and treated Faith and me to a courtly half bow. “It’s about damn time somebody brought a Poodle to see us,” he announced. As he sank back into his seat, he held out a weathered hand for Faith to sniff.

“Now, Borden, watch your language,” Mary chided gently. “There are youngsters present.”

Youngsters? Paul and I exchanged a glance. I supposed that meant us.

“You’re a pretty thing, aren’t you, girl?” Borden patted the cushion beside him. “Why don’t you come on up here and sit down next to an old man?”

Faith looked at me, checking to see if she had permission. I looked at Paul, who shrugged.

“My dog’s already on the furniture,” he said. “I can hardly tell you not to let yours do the same.”

“It’s okay,” I said to Faith. “Go ahead.”

The black Poodle placed one front paw delicately in the space Borden had moved over to provide and leaped up gracefully beside him. She turned a half circle on the cushion, then sat down facing forward, just like her human companions on the couch.

Borden slapped his knee and laughed out loud. “Now that’s a Poodle for you. They think they’re just like other people. And who knows? Maybe they are.” He looked up at me and winked.

“Well, I don’t know why I’m sitting here getting short shrift,” said Madeline. “Everybody has a dog but me.”

“Maddy, dear, we wouldn’t want you to feel left out. Let me lend you Cora for a while.” Mary encouraged the Corgi to get up and shift from one lap to the next. The little dog walked two steps and plopped down again, ending up on the cushion between the two women.

“Now, Melanie,” Mary invited, “why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself? Aside from the fact that you own a big, beautiful Poodle.”

A Poodle who was, as we spoke, leaning into Borden’s side, resting her head on his shoulder, and staring adoringly into his eyes. What a ham.

“Paul is such a dear to bring all these dogs to come and visit us. And, of course, we love seeing them. But it’s nice to meet new people, too. After you’ve been living here a while, you begin to feel like you know everything there is to know about everybody.”

“How long have you been here?” I asked.

“Almost two years now. But don’t you try to turn things around, young lady. I want to hear about you.”

“There isn’t that much to tell. I’m a special education teacher. I have an eight-year-old son.” I paused, then added, “And I just recently got married.”

“Oooh,” Madeline said excitedly. “Now that’s something.” She held out her hand, fingers beckoning. “Let’s see the rings.”

They were beautiful, if I did say so myself. Sam had purchased the engagement ring a year earlier after unexpectedly inheriting some money. The center stone was a two-carat, emerald-cut diamond. Three weeks earlier, he’d added a platinum eternity band to it.

I took my left hand out of my pocket and held it forward. Madeline and Mary both had a look. Even Borden leaned over so he could see better.

“Well done,” said Mary. “You must have found yourself a man with good taste.”

“And a fat wallet,” said Borden.

“Now, Borden, you just quit it.” Madeline rolled her eyes for my benefit. “Don’t you pay any attention to what that man says. We have to watch him every minute.”

“You’re a fine one to talk, Maddy. It’s not as if one or two of your husbands weren’t pretty plump in the pocketbook.”

My gaze went to the gold watch on the older woman’s slender arm. And although Madeline wasn’t wearing any rings, there was a sapphire brooch on her left shoulder. Diamond studs the size of blueberries adorned her earlobes.

“I never said I didn’t make out okay in the romance department. Best of all, I loved my husbands, each and every one of them. Would have helped if one or two had had stronger hearts, mind you.”

Mary smiled gently. “Maybe not Milton, though.”

“No, not Milton,” Madeline agreed. “God rest his soul. I wasn’t terribly sorry to see him go. Him and his wild ideas about everything. What kind of seventy-two-year-old man thinks he ought to go parasailing in Mexico? That’s what I’d like to know.”

“I’m sure I have no idea,” I said. What had ever made me imagine that we would spend the visit talking about dogs?

“Nobody does.” Borden shook his head. “That Milton, he was a highflier. Sorry, Maddy, no pun intended.”

Madeline sighed. “No offense taken, Borden.”

“This is my first visit,” I said into the silence that followed. “So I’m not really sure how things are supposed to work. Maybe Faith and I should be mingling?”

“Did you hear that?” Mary laughed. “Here we are yammering on about people Melanie’s never met and things that happened a long time ago and we’ve bored her senseless already. She wants to take her Poodle and go sit with someone else.”

“No,” I said quickly. “It isn’t that—”

“Don’t you worry a thing about it,” Madeline said, waving a hand. “We’re happy to have had you here for the time we did. Now you go see someone else. I think that nice lady with the Papillon might be headed our way. We always like to talk to her.”

“Just so long as it isn’t the other one,” Borden muttered in an undertone.

I’d leaned over to motion Faith down off the couch. If I hadn’t been so close, I wouldn’t have heard him. Clearly, I wasn’t meant to.

“The other one?” I asked.

The three elderly people looked guilty. I glanced around at Paul. He shrugged slightly. “Kelly,” he said after a pause. “You know…and Boss.”

That pair was at the other end of the room now, over by the windows. Kelly was talking with animation to an older man sitting in a wheelchair. The Akita was standing next to the chair, his massive head resting on the man’s knees.

Steve, I saw, was standing close by, near enough to intervene quickly should the need arise. In fact, the entire time we’d been in the sunroom, Steve had been shadowing Kelly and Boss. I wondered if that was the way he normally conducted himself, and whether Kelly noticed how much extra attention she and the Akita received. She was young and very attractive, maybe she simply accepted it as her due.

“You go ahead and forget you heard me say that,” Borden instructed. “We’re just happy to have people come and visit us. None of us has any right to complain.”

“Even if that dog does look like he wouldn’t mind munching on a person’s arm for lunch and spitting out the bones,” said Madeline.

The description wasn’t far off. As always, there was an air of watchful tension about Boss. I loved dogs, and I’d never, for a minute, been afraid of one. But even to me the Akita didn’t look like the kind of animal that I would want to cross—or meet up with in a dark alley.

“You go on now,” Mary said, as Borden gave Faith a pat good-bye. “We’ll see you again later.”

Faith and I did as we’d been told. I’d expected the population in the sunroom to remain relatively constant during our visit; instead, people were coming and going all the time. Despite what Mrs. Ellis had said about wanting to sit by the windows, she disappeared shortly after I spoke with her. Her place was taken by a fragile-looking woman who leaned heavily upon a cane and was escorted to a seat in the sun by her visiting daughter. Both were no strangers to Poodles, and they enjoyed the opportunity to meet Faith and visit for a while.

After I was finished there, I joined up with Julie and Jack. A group of residents, clustered around the Doberman, had asked whether he knew any tricks. Julie had cleared a small area and was demonstrating how well her dog responded to the commands to heel, stay, and come.

Minnie brought her Standard Schnauzer, Coach, over to observe. “They asked for tricks,” she said when Julie and Jack were finished. “Not an obedience demonstration.”

Julie turned and glared. An older man who’d been watching the performance leaped to her defense. “She did just fine,” he said. “That stuff looked pretty tricky to me.”

Minnie looked at him and smiled. “Julie believes in classic obedience training. She likes to teach routines and patterns and specific exercises, the types of things that get rewarded in the show ring. Some of us like to have a little more fun with our dogs.”

She led Coach out into the cleared area where Julie and Jack were standing. Minnie didn’t actually elbow Julie aside, but she might as well have. It was clear she intended to steal the other woman’s thunder, as well as her audience.

As Julie and Jack stepped back, Minnie raised her hand, giving Coach a silent signal to sit. The Schnauzer’s hindquarter sank promptly to the floor. His dark eyes were riveted on his owner’s; his stubby tail wagged back and forth. Clearly, this was a game he enjoyed playing.

Minnie lifted her hand again. Palm up, she wiggled her fingers. Coach lifted first one front paw, then the other. The third time he pushed off and raised himself up into a begging position. Balanced successfully on his hindquarter, he looked very pleased with himself. Several of the elderly residents clapped at the accomplishment.

“Not yet,” Minnie said with a smile. “Wait.”

She reached in her pocket and pulled out a biscuit. Taking two steps forward, she leaned down and placed the treat on the top of Coach’s nose. The Schnauzer trembled with anticipation but waited for Minnie’s signal.

She didn’t make him wait long. “Okay Coach,” she cried. “Get it, boy!”

The dog tossed his head, flipping the biscuit up into the air. Eyes never leaving the spinning treat, he jumped up after it and caught it on the fly. His strong jaw ground down on the biscuit, and he swallowed before he’d even landed. Coach hit the ground and spun around, tail wagging, face grinning, asking to do it again.

As the group of residents laughed and applauded, Minnie clasped her fingers together and held out her arms, fashioning them in the shape of a circle. Coach saw the hoop and dove for it. Minnie leaned down, and the Schnauzer leaped up. He sailed through her arms and landed on the other side. Skidding on the floor, he caught himself quickly, whipped around, and jumped back through.

By then, nearly everyone in the room had gathered around to enjoy the show. I saw Madeline and Borden, though Paul and Mary were no longer with them. Even some of the nurses who’d been passing by in the hall were clustered in the doorway.

“What a show-off,” Julie said. She’d faded back out of the circle and brought Jack over to stand beside me and Mark. Now Minnie had Coach dancing on his hind legs.

“You’re just jealous,” Mark was grinning when he said it, but the words still had bite.

“Of
that
?” Julie tossed her head disdainfully. “I don’t think so. Jack has entirely too much dignity to put on such a display. Minnie’s got that dog prancing around out there like she thinks he’s some sort of froufrou Poodle circus act.”

It took her a moment to realize what she’d said, and in front of whom she’d said it. Then she swallowed abruptly and glanced at me out of the corner of her eye.

“Sorry. You know I didn’t mean Faith. I was talking about those little Poodles that you see. You know, Toys and Minis that are dyed all sorts of pastel colors. The ones that run around with clowns and ride bicycles or play the piano.”

“No problem,” I said.

Over the years, Faith and I have heard pretty much the entire gamut of Poodle insults. Mostly, I realized, they came from people who weren’t familiar with the breed. Because I’d never met someone who’d lived with a Poodle, had enjoyed the breed’s lively and intelligent temperament, and hadn’t wanted another one.

In the beginning, I used to leap to the breed’s defense, but I rarely bother anymore. Faith’s dignity and demeanor speak for themselves. And if she was big enough to ignore the occasional insult that came her way, I figured I might as well follow her sterling example.

Besides, I had yet to see a Poodle play the piano. If I did, I’d probably find it to be a pretty impressive accomplishment.