Chow Down (22 page)

“That's right. Ben's a nice guy. I admit I was kind of surprised when he first called me, but I was flattered, too. I mean, he's pretty famous and all . . .”

Cindy was blushing again. I felt almost sorry for her. Call me a skeptic, but I sincerely doubted that Ben would have pursued the young woman if she hadn't been in a position to further his chances in the contest. Surely that thought must have occurred to her.

“So Ben was the one who approached you?”

“Well,
yeah . . .
It wasn't like I would have called him. Ben said he really wanted to get to know me better. But right away we both agreed we needed to keep things low-key until after the contest was over. You won't—”

“Spread the news around?”

Cindy nodded. “I'd really appreciate it if you kept things to yourself. People might take things the wrong way, you know?”

Of course I knew. I was taking it the wrong way myself.

“Weren't you afraid that people would see the two of you together here?”

“I didn't even think about that. Coming all the way up here to Farmington seemed safe enough. It didn't even occur to me that we might run into someone we knew.”

That was because Cindy wasn't a dog show person. Exhibitors routinely traveled all over in search of good judges and facilities. A ninety-minute drive was nothing compared to some of the trips I'd gone on.

“Oh!” she said. “The judge is going back for another look at Brando. That must be good, right?”

I could have told her that it was probably too little, too late, but I knew she'd find that out in a minute when the judge made her final selections. Suddenly I had no desire to stay and watch Cindy watch Ben lose.

“I hope you have a good time today,” I said.

“Thanks, I'm sure I will. Ben promised to show me the insider's view of the dog show world. I know I'm going to be fascinated.”

Cindy wasn't that much younger than me but suddenly I felt eons older. She looked as though she had stars in her eyes; I wasn't sure I'd ever been that naive. It would have been nice to believe that Ben wasn't just using her as Brando's ticket to fame and fortune but that seemed like a long shot to me. I really hoped that when the contest was over, and his use for her had ended, that he let her down gently.

Heading back to the grooming tent, I pondered this new information. A secret relationship between a judge and one of the finalists? If I was in that situation I would want to keep things quiet, too. Cindy said that she and Ben had met for the first time at the reception, but I wasn't sure that I believed her.

Could Larry Kim have discovered something he wasn't supposed to know? Had he threatened to make a fuss? Was Ben the person I'd heard arguing with him in the stairwell just before he fell? And what, if anything, did this have to do with Lisa Kim's disappearance?

I blew out a windy sigh. That was my problem. I was always good at coming up with questions. It was the answers that gave me headaches.

“T
here you are, finally,” Aunt Peg said when I got back to the setup. “We were wondering what kept you. Sam thought perhaps you'd gotten lost.”

Sam slipped me a quick wink. He was busy line brushing Tar and didn't look like my extended absence had caused him the slightest bit of concern.

It was Peg who'd apparently grown bored while waiting for Maggie to wake up. In my absence, she'd taken it upon herself to remove Bertie's Standard Poodle from his crate and begin brushing out the dog's mane coat. That was supposed to be my job, but I wasn't complaining. It was good for Aunt Peg to have something to do.

Some people cherish peace and quiet, but not Aunt Peg. She sees such times as opportunities to stir things up. And trust me, we've all been there. It's not a pretty sight.

Today, thankfully, it looked as though Aunt Peg had used her powers for the sake of good rather than evil.

Bertie was back at the setup, too, and she had her Toy Poodle out on a tabletop. “Excellent hair,” she said. “Terry?”

“Of course. I'd never trust anybody else to make such a drastic change.”

Bertie's third Poodle entry was a Mini. I leaned down, opened a crate, and let the medium-sized black bitch hop out into my arms.

“He did a great job.” Bertie stopped brushing. She reached over and poked my shoulder until I turned around and she could consider the cut from all angles. “I've been thinking about going shorter myself. Ever since Maggie was born, I just don't have the time—”

Aunt Peg yelped. We all turned to look at her. Even the Standard Poodle, who'd been snoozing on the grooming table, opened his eyes and lifted his head.

“Is
that
why?” she asked.

It took me a minute to figure out what she was talking about. Then I sighed. “No.”

“No what?” asked Sam.

“No, we're not pregnant.”

“Oh.” He looked nonplussed by the sudden switch in topic. “Good to know . . . I guess.”

“Trust me.” I patted his arm. “When there's news, you'll be the first to hear.”

“And I'll be second,” Aunt Peg said firmly.

I might have been tempted to make a rude reply. Fortunately for the sake of family harmony, Sam answered first. “I think Davey might be the second person we tell. But you can be third.”

Aunt Peg looked ready to argue. Quickly I turned to Bertie and changed the subject again. “Have you heard anything more from Sue about Lisa's whereabouts?”

“All I know is that as of last night, she's still among the missing. Since it's been three days, Sue was finally able to file a police report. I don't think it's going to help much though.”

“The police still don't think that Lisa's disappearance might be related to Larry's murder?”

Bertie shook her head. “Not that they've let on. The detective Sue dealt with told her it seemed likely that Lisa might have gone home for a while to stay with her family.” “Leaving ten dogs behind in her basement?” No matter what Terry had said, that still sounded crazy to me.

“Technically she arranged for their care,” said Bertie. “She left them with Sue.”

“But only for one day,” said Aunt Peg. She'd been following the saga from the start.

“I know. I'm not saying I think they're right, I'm just repeating what I was told. And by the way, the Yorkies are no longer in Lisa's basement.”

“Where are they now?” asked Sam.

“Sue was at her wit's end so I told her I'd help out. As of Wednesday afternoon, Lisa's dogs have been sitting in my kennel. So now I guess we're all waiting to see what happens next.”

“I hope you're charging board,” I said.

“In theory, yes. But that only helps if Lisa shows up to claim them. Otherwise I'm going to be the one who's stuck finding ten new homes.”

“If Lisa
did
go off somewhere to be with her family,” said Aunt Peg, “does anybody know where that might be?”

“Sue thought maybe Florida. Apparently there was an address book that had some information. She took it with her and left it with the Southport police when she filed the report.”

“I hope they're following up,” I said but, based on my past experiences with the police, I tended to doubt it.

If the authorities didn't believe that Lisa had met with foul play, they probably weren't concerned about where she was. Of course they weren't the only ones. Terry hadn't been worried either. Even Sue had seemed more upset about the inconvenience Lisa's unexpected absence was causing her than about any dire possibilities.

So maybe I was the one who was overreacting. That seemed like a shame considering that I barely knew the woman. If I ever dropped off the face of the earth, I hoped people would pay more attention than this.

I looked over at Sam. “If I disappeared, would you look for me?”

His hands went still. His expression was pained. “Am I on
Candid Camera
or is this just my day for really weird questions?”

“I'm serious.”

“Yes, I would look for you. Forever, if that's what it took.”

“That's so sweet,” said Bertie.

“A husband ought to know where his wife is,” Aunt Peg said crisply. “The main problem with Lisa's disappearance is that her husband is gone, too. For all we know, this might be nothing unusual. Lisa might make a habit of disappearing.”

“Her husband isn't just gone,” I pointed out. “He was murdered. Which is pretty unusual, too.”

“Maybe Lisa ran away,” said Bertie. “Maybe she was frightened.”

“Of what?” asked Sam.

“Her husband's murderer?” I guessed.

“But if she knew who that was,” said Peg, “why not just turn him into the police? Why run away?”

“Maybe he's blackmailing her,” said Bertie. “Maybe he knows some deep, dark secret from her past.”

“Maybe you've been watching too many soap operas,” Aunt Peg sniffed.

Bertie only laughed. “You're right about that. I have to do something to pass the time while I'm standing in the kennel grooming dogs.”

“I guess we'll find out soon enough whether or not Lisa left of her own volition,” I said.

“Why do you say that?” asked Sam.

“Because ever since the contest started, our presence has been required at events that take place every couple of days. When the next one occurs, we'll see whether or not Lisa and Yoda show up. I thought she would withdraw when Larry died but she didn't, so either the contest or the prize money must be pretty important to her. I'm betting that's what will flush her out.”

“When is your next event?” asked Aunt Peg.

“I don't know, I haven't heard yet. Usually I get an email and a couple days' warning. Maybe there will be a message waiting for me when we get home.”

As it happened, I didn't have to wait that long. We finished grooming the four Poodles—Bertie's three plus Tar—and Maggie awoke just in time to accompany us to the ring for the judging. Aunt Peg fed her great-niece a bottle while Bertie won Reserve Winners with her Toy, put two points on the Mini, then placed second in a large Open class with the Standard. In a strong group of specials, Tar was awarded Best of Variety.

As Sam was waiting to have his picture taken with the judge, my cell phone chimed. Bertie was heading back to the setup; she had Maggie in her arms and the Standard Poodle on a leash. I handed the two Poodles I'd been holding to Aunt Peg, then stepped away from the ring so I could hear better. I found myself talking to Doug Allen.

“I'm glad I reached you,” he said.

“What's up?”

“Something really exciting. Everything just came together and since it's short notice I wanted to speak to each of you personally and make sure that you were onboard. How would you and Faith like to be on television?”

Several answers sprang immediately to mind. Probably none were what Doug wanted to hear. I'd never sought fame out, but now it looked as though it might be coming to find me anyway. Or at least coming to find my dog.

I gave myself a mental kick. I had to keep reminding myself that this was all about Faith.

“That sounds interesting,” I said cautiously.

“Interesting? It's going to be terrific!” Doug was back in cheerleader mode. “The five of you have been booked as a group on
This Is Your Morning Show
. You're going to appear in a segment with their resident pet expert, Darren Abernathy. He'll talk about canine health, proper diet, and the importance of good nutrition. Then he'll plug the contest and introduce each of you to a national audi-ence.”

On those rare mornings when I had time to check out a news-and-entertainment show, I'd seen Darren Abernathy at work. Whatever credentials he might possess for calling himself a “pet expert” they weren't evidenced by the advice he dispensed. Much of it was simply common sense, leavened with a dose of good-old-boy humor. Abernathy didn't believe in using crates, his training methods looked dubious, and he'd been known to refer to Poodles as “froufrou dogs.” It wouldn't surprise me if we hated each other on sight.

“Great,” I said flatly.

“I knew you'd be excited,” said Doug. “This is a huge opportunity for everyone involved. Not only that, but it will be our last group event. The committee and I will be making our final selection after the appearance on Monday morning, and we'll be announcing the big winner at a press conference on Tuesday.”

Much as I had wanted to be finished with the contest, suddenly it seemed as though everything was moving at warp speed. “Monday morning?” I said. That was only thirty-six hours away.

“That's right,” Doug confirmed. “We have a five-minute segment during the last half hour of the show, so we'll be on the air sometime between eight thirty and nine. The producer wants us all to be at the studio by six thirty.”

I gulped. “
AM
?”

“Of course
AM
,” Doug said with a hearty laugh. “Otherwise it wouldn't be a morning show.”

I did the calculations. To be at a television studio in midtown Manhattan at six thirty, Faith and I would need to leave home shortly after five. Which meant getting up around four thirty. Oh joy.

“What will we be doing between six thirty and eight thirty?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. Having your hair and makeup done. Eating bagels in the green room, chatting with the other stars that are appearing that day . . .”

I guessed I was supposed to be seeing those things as incentives.

“We're talking about live television here, so they can't afford for anything to go wrong. The producers like to get everyone in place early just to make sure that there are no last minute slipups.”

I thought about Ben, for whom punctuality didn't seem to be a strong suit. Then I thought about Lisa, who might not appear at all. I wondered what Doug intended to do about that.

“What about Lisa?” I asked.

“What about her?”

“Have you spoken with her?”

There was a pause, as if maybe Doug was wondering why I thought that was any of my business. I waited him out.

“Not yet,” he said finally. “I'm still trying to reach her.”

“You know she's missing, right?”

“No.” His tone was firm. “I don't know that.”

He was lying and I wondered why. Was Doug simply trying to put a good face on things, or was he covering up something he didn't want me to know?

“Lisa's friend, Sue, said she spoke to you early in the week right after Lisa disappeared.”

“I believe I may have had a brief conversation with someone . . . It seems to me that I understood there had been a mix-up in some arrangements she made with a friend . . . But, uh, nobody told me Lisa was missing . . .”

Another lie, assuming that Sue had been telling me the truth. They were beginning to pile up now. I decided to keep prodding and see where that would lead me.

“After we all returned from New York on the bus last Tuesday, Lisa and Yoda didn't go back home. Nobody has seen them since. When Sue called you, she was hoping you might have some idea where Lisa had gone.”

“Nobody has seen them since?” Doug repeated. He was beginning to sound agitated. “Are you sure about that?”

“A friend of mine has been taking care of her dogs. If Lisa had reappeared, she would know about it. I guess this means that the police haven't contacted you?”

“Er . . . no. Something is going to have to be done about this, and quickly.”

“I agree,” I said. Then Doug continued to speak and I realized we weren't talking about the same thing at all.

“Getting this spot on the morning show is an enormous coup for Champions Dog Food and for Chow Down. This kind of national exposure will be invaluable to our product launch and the subsequent marketing campaign. Now is not the time for Lisa to be playing games.”

“If indeed she is,” I said quietly.

Doug didn't hear me; he was still talking.

“All I can say is that we've promised five finalists for Monday morning and no matter what it takes, five finalists are going to appear. With or without Lisa, Yoda had better be there or heads are going to roll.”