Chow Down (16 page)

“Chris?”

“You know”—I nodded toward the front of the bus—“Chris Hovick?”

For a moment, Dorothy looked as though she might deny the connection. But since she wasn't sure how much or how little I knew, I guess she quickly realized that doing so might lead to complications later.

“Did Chris tell you that?” she asked instead.

“No, but Cindy told me he had a Scottie.” I pasted a goofy smile on my face and tried to look as though I'd ventured a lucky guess. “I suppose I just put two and two together . . .”

“Sometimes when people do that, they come up with five,” Dorothy said tartly. “But in this instance, as it happens, you're correct. Chris acquired a puppy from me last year. A very nice male. I believe he calls him Duffy.”

“A nod to his illustrious sire.”

“Quite so.”

Dorothy didn't look at all pleased by the turn the conversation had taken. I wondered if the fact that she and Chris had had a prior connection was against the rules. Of course to know that, I would have had to have actually read the rules. Usually contests barred family members from entering. In this case it seemed as though the same ought to apply to canine families.

In any event, I was willing to bet that neither Chris nor Dorothy had advertised their previous acquaintance. Probably the other committee members had no idea. Which meant that Dorothy was right to be concerned.

As far as conversation was concerned, most people wouldn't have considered a question about murder to be an improvement. But right about then, Dorothy was looking like she'd be very receptive to a change of topic.

“That was too bad about what happened to Larry Kim, wasn't it?” I said.

“Indeed.” Dorothy had gone back to staring out the window. She didn't choose to elaborate.

“Had you known him and Lisa from the shows?”

“I'd certainly seen them around. You know what the dog show world is like. The two of them had been breeding Yorkies for quite a while. Occasionally they've even had a good one.”

She didn't even bother to veil the insult. I gathered she hadn't thought very highly of the Kims.

“You don't seem surprised that someone might have wanted to hurt Larry.”

Dorothy swiveled in the seat to face me. “Should I be?”

“I don't know. I never met either of the Kims until last week at the meet-and-greet. Why don't you tell me about them?”

“If you're waiting for me to say that it was a huge loss to the dog show community, don't bother.”

I didn't respond, just waited in silence until she continued.

“Larry wasn't a particularly nice person,” she said after a minute. “He wasn't a good winner and he wasn't a good loser. Frankly I don't know how Lisa ever managed to live with him. He was always bossing her around, telling her what to do and where to go, as if she didn't have a single original thought in her head.”

“So . . .” I said slowly, “you think maybe Lisa just got fed up?” Certainly Dorothy seemed to be leading me that way.

“All I know is that I wouldn't blame her if she had. If I'd been married to Larry Kim, I would have pushed him down a flight of stairs a long time ago.”

C
ome on, I thought, tell me how you really feel. There was no need to encourage Dorothy to continue, however. She was warming to her subject now.

“There's nothing more annoying than a young woman who looks to a man to make her decisions for her. Good Lord, what do they think women's liberation was all about? My generation burned their bras and marched on Washington. We had to. Nobody would have listened to us otherwise. Now the girls that are coming up behind us take our accomplishments for granted, and that's a huge mistake.”

“So you think Lisa was too subservient? A moment ago, I thought you were implying that she might be the one who had pushed him down the stairs.”

“Perhaps she simply snapped,” said Dorothy. “And bravo to her if she finally gave Larry some of his own medicine back. It was probably no more than he deserved. I'd like to think that times have changed, but they haven't, not really. This is a man's world and sometimes a woman has got to look out for her own.”

“You really disliked him,” I said.

“On the contrary, I didn't know Larry Kim well enough to like or dislike him. What I abhorred was the way he treated his wife in public. One could only imagine what their private life must have been like.”

Pretty strong words and a surprising amount of emotion coming from someone who claimed not to have known the murder victim very well.

I'd always enjoyed watching Dorothy and MacDuff in the show ring. She'd looked like such a sweet and unassuming little old lady. But she definitely had a core of steel. And perhaps—considering the way she and the Scottie had made their way into the contest—a duplicitous side as well.

Faith shifted at my feet, snoring softly in her sleep and turning from one side onto the other as the bus rolled beneath us. I reached down and flicked several long, silky strands of ear hair out of her mouth. We were crossing the Triboro Bridge and entering Manhattan. It wouldn't be long now until we arrived at our destination.

“I think it's rather odd, don't you?” Dorothy asked abruptly.

I turned and looked at her. “What is?”

“The way nobody talks about the fact that one of our contestants died right in our midst. Everybody, including the dearly departed's wife, just soldiers on as if nothing even happened.”

“It seems very odd,” I agreed. “I can only think that the judges are afraid that talking about it will cast a pall over the proceedings.”

“Maybe the company is worried about liability,” said Dorothy. “That's what everyone does these days, isn't it? They go off and sue someone?” She paused, gazing up one side of the bus and then back down the other. “Frankly if I were them I'd be more concerned about the fact that this tight little group they've put together is, in all likelihood, harboring a murderer. It makes you stop and think, doesn't it? Maybe Larry was only the first target.”

Dorothy didn't look like the sort of woman who would be afraid of much. I wondered if she actually felt threatened; or whether, considering that we'd started the conversation by talking about her own impropriety, she was simply trying to deflect attention in another direction.

“Would you kill someone for a hundred thousand–dollar modeling contract?” I queried. It was a question I seemed to be asking a lot.

“My ethical code isn't what's under discussion here. But since you've asked, I will point out that wars have been fought for less. And with luck, the initial contract is only the beginning. Assuming that Chow Down is successful, there will be further commercials and public appearances. The promotion could go on for years, and the value to the winner could increase substantially.”

I decided to take that as a yes. Which led to my next question.

“What did you do at the end of that first meeting?”

Dorothy's eyes narrowed. “I assume you're asking where I was when Larry took his unfortunate fall?”

I nodded.

“To tell you the truth, I don't have any idea. I stayed behind for a few minutes to chat with Simone. I used to work in public relations myself back in the day. I thought perhaps we might find a common chord.”

Or more likely, she'd thought to increase MacDuff's chances of winning by ingratiating herself with yet another of the judges.

“Then I made a pit stop at the loo. After that, MacDuff and I took the elevator down to the lobby. I'll tell you exactly the same thing I told those two officers. Since I don't have any idea exactly when Larry met his demise, I could have been doing any number of things at the time.”

That didn't help much, did it? I sat back in my seat. My toe nudged Faith, who lifted her head. “Good girl,” I murmured. “We're almost there.”

“And?” Dorothy said sharply. I realized she was still staring in my direction.

“And what?”

“I certainly don't see why I should be the only one to furnish a description of my whereabouts. Where were you when the dire deed occurred?”

“On the stairwell,” I mumbled. As if there was any hope she would find that answer satisfactory. When Dorothy continued to stare, I offered up a more detailed explanation.

“Too bad you weren't paying more attention,” she said at the end. Her tone was more than a little accusatory. “The police could have this whole thing wrapped up by now, and we wouldn't have to go around wondering which one of us was busy hatching plots against the others. As if we didn't have enough to worry about already.”

“You mean the contest.”

“Of course I mean the contest. What else would I be talking about? MacDuff and I have made it this far, and we intend to go all the way. All I can say is, nobody had better try and stop us or they'll be sorry they ever got in our way.”

“You realize,” I said mildly, “that now it sounds as though you're the one making threats.”

“Don't be silly. How could anyone possibly find MacDuff and me threatening? We're the senior citizens of the group. You know what that means, don't you?”

The first answer that came to mind was that it didn't require either youth or strength to push someone down a flight of steps if you caught them off guard. Since I doubted that that was where Dorothy was headed, however, I kept that thought to myself and shook my head.

“It means that we've been around the block a few times. We've got the experience and the know-how to be winners. Maybe we don't look as formidable as some of the other finalists, but nobody should make the mistake of underestimating us. We've got a few tricks left up our sleeves yet.”

Perfect, I thought. That was just what this contest needed. More tricks.

 

The bus double parked on a busy cross street just around the corner from the south end of Central Park. Horns blared, streams of pedestrians filled the sidewalks, traffic eddied around us in fits and starts. Welcome to the big city.

Faith had her ears flattened against her head. I wished I could do the same.

Instead I reached down and checked the clasp on her leash and collar, making sure that everything was hooked up tight. My Poodle was dependable off leash, but in the midst of this much noise and confusion I wasn't about to take any chances.

As soon as the bus stopped moving, Doug stepped up to the front to make a brief announcement. “In just a minute, we'll be heading across Fifth Avenue and into the park. Once we're there, I want each of you to do whatever makes you feel comfortable with regard to your own dog. My only request is that you try to stay at least somewhat loosely grouped. We, the judges, will be observing your interaction with the public and Charlie will be capturing much of what happens on film. So we don't want to have to be looking all over trying to figure out where everyone went. Okay?”

Dutifully we all nodded.

“Field trips,” Ben muttered under his breath. “You gotta love them. It's just like being back in elementary school.”

“At least we don't have to wear name tags and hold hands,” Allison Redding replied. Ginger had ridden into the city on the seat beside Allison and her husband. Now she hopped the Brittany down to the floor and prepared to disembark.

One by one, we made our way down the narrow aisle. The judges, sitting in the front, had followed Doug and gotten off first. Dorothy and I, seated in the back, were bringing up the rear.

By the time Faith and I reached the door, I could see that Sam had been wrong. Despite New Yorkers' reputation for being blasé, a small crowd had gathered on the sidewalk to watch us unload. Kind of like watching clowns emerge from a Volkswagen at the circus, I imagined.

Though the human contestants were largely ignored, murmurs of approval greeted each newly revealed canine. I had to give credit to Simone and Chris. With our dogs' pictures plastered all over the sides of the bus, the Champions PR team had created the impression that the five finalists were celebrities, even though they had yet to do anything to justify their fame.

Faith and I hopped down the two steps onto the street. The judges had moved to one side to give us room. Faith and I joined Dorothy, the Reddings, and Lisa, who'd pressed together in a tight little group between the bus and the sidewalk. We all awaited further instruction.

Ben, however, had ideas of his own. Dragging Brando behind him, he slithered between two parked cars and went to greet the assembled crowd.

“Wow,” I heard a teenage girl say. “Are these movie dogs?”

“No, stupid,” her friend replied. “They're on TV. Read the sign.”

“The sign says they eat dog food,” someone called out. “Hey, my dog eats dog food. Can he be famous, too?”

Standing on the street with the bus and bumper-to bumper traffic behind me, and parked cars and a crowd of spectators in front, I slid a hand down and pressed Faith closer to my thigh. She didn't seem perturbed but I knew that was because she trusted me not to put her in harm's way. Breathing in exhaust fumes, and waiting impatiently, I hoped I was going to be able to keep my word.

I glanced over at Doug and the other judges. They were engrossed in watching Ben and Brando work the crowd and seemed to have forgotten all about the rest of us. The actor was busy explaining to the teenage girls that he had been a soap opera star. One of them was fishing around in her purse for a piece of paper for him to sign. How that was supposed to help Brando's cause I had no idea.

Charlie walked around onto the sidewalk and began to take pictures. Predictably that made even more people stop to see what was happening.

I waited a minute, then stepped forward and caught Doug's eye. “Maybe we should get moving into the park? You probably don't want us to do this here in the street, do you?”

Doug didn't respond right away, but Simone did. “You're absolutely right,” she said. “Ben? Brando? Wrap it up here, we're moving over to the park.”

The command she barked out was enough to finally galvanize Doug into action. He hopped up onto the sidewalk and addressed the crowd.

“On behalf of Champions' new dog food, Chow Down, welcome! The dogs you see here are five finalists, one of whom will become our new spokesdog and be featured on television and in print advertising. We'll be heading over to Central Park now, where we'll be handing out free samples of the product. Of course you're welcome to come and join us. You'll be able to meet all the dogs, then later you can go to our web site and vote for your favorite. Thank you all for your support!”

Doug's rousing speech didn't have the effect he seemed to be hoping for. Nobody applauded. In fact nobody even looked terribly interested. As celebrities, our dogs had had potential. As advertising for a dog food company, they were boring.

“Yeah, whatever,” said a young man with multiple piercings.

He turned and walked away. Others followed. In less than a minute, we were all by ourselves again. Looking disgruntled, Ben rejoined the fold.

“Way to shut down a party, man,” Chris said with a grin.

Simone quickly turned away; I suspected she might have been hiding a smile. Cindy, standing beside Chris, looked worried; obviously she was new to insurrection in the ranks. Doug ignored all of them and rounded us up.

Bunched together like a Brownie troop on a mission, we crossed Fifth Avenue and took the path that led into the park. Now that we weren't hemmed in by traffic and pedestrians, everyone relaxed and let out their leashes.

The dogs, confined during the long bus ride, began to hop and play. Several lowered their noses to the ground to sniff out likely spots. I hoped everyone had remembered to bring baggies for cleanup.

Faith and Ginger were eager to stretch their legs. When we came to a small meadow, dotted here and there by picnickers and mothers with small children, Allison reached down and unfastened Ginger's lead. Bill pulled out a tennis ball and gave it a toss. The Brittany went flying across the grass after it.

Faith watched the action and whined softly under her breath. I could understand her desire to run, but I wasn't at all sure I liked the idea of turning her loose. A glance at the others seemed to confirm my feelings of trepidation.

Yoda was on the ground for once, but Lisa had a tight hold on her slender leash. Ditto Dorothy and MacDuff. Ben, so eager to set Brando free in an enclosed room, seemed to have no intention of doing so here.

“Can I touch?” asked a small voice.

I turned back and saw a girl of perhaps three, her chubby hand extended toward Faith's nose. The Poodle was bigger than she was, but the child showed no fear. Her mother grasped the little girl's other hand firmly.

“That's a Poodle, right?” she said. “Taylor
loves
Poodles, but we've never seen one that big before. Is she like a super-size, or what?”