Read Underdog Online

Authors: Laurien Berenson

Tags: #Suspense

Underdog (26 page)

BOOK: Underdog
4.43Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads
“Was there something we could do for you?” asked Aunt Peg.
“I was just wondering,” she said. “I understand the Springer won his breed this morning. They were judged early, when Flynn was still on his feet.”
I supposed that was one way of putting it. “What were you wondering about?”
Mrs. Byrd braced the cane on the floor and pushed herself to her feet. “Are they showing the dog in the group or not? That's what I came over to see. But there's nothing going on over there at all.”
“The set-up has been cordoned off.”
“I can see that with my own eyes, can't I? But where are the dogs?”
Aunt Peg and I shared a puzzled glance. “Rhonda and Yuko must have taken them somewhere,” I said. “Maybe they've gone home.”
“Good for them.” Her thin lips drew into a terse smile. “A little sorting out of the competition never hurts a bit.”
Unless you're the one who got sorted out, I thought grimly. Mrs. Byrd reached out with her cane. In the narrow aisle, it thudded off the side of a crate and I quickly cupped a hand around Faith's muzzle before she could bark again.
I wondered what business Dirk could possibly have had in the building early that morning. Florence Byrd had told us she'd waited nearly a half century to win the Quaker Oats Award. Now she was this close. How determined had she been to finally get the job done?
Twenty-six
After Mrs. Byrd left, I took Davey to the bathroom and for a browse around the many concessions stands. With the application of a little imagination, it's amazing how many dog toys can double as presents for a child. All right, bribes really. But so far, Davey'd handled the weekend of shows without major complaint. By way of a reward, he ended up with a new ball and a stuffed octopus, both of which he promised to share with Faith. Right.
When we got back to the set-up, Angie was getting Charlie ready for the group. Like Mrs. Byrd, she kept casting surreptitious glances over toward Flynn's set-up on the other side of us. Then again, maybe she wasn't wondering about the competition. Now that word was out about what had happened to Harry, it seemed like half the show had found a reason to wander by and have a look.
Aunt Peg was sitting in the seat she'd gotten out for Mrs. Byrd. An open issue of
Dog Scene
lay across her lap. As I drew near, I realized she was talking to Angie about a Standard Poodle in one of the ads. I leaned over and had a look. Neither dog nor handler looked familiar.
“I've heard good things about Trent Parness,” Angie was saying.
I boosted myself up and had a seat on the grooming table. “Who's Trent Parness?”
“A handler in Colorado,” Aunt Peg told me. “Potentially a handler for Charity. Her owners are determined to have someone local.”
“It's hard when you sell puppies so far away,” Angie sympathized. “And it's amazing the way this business has grown. Twenty-five years ago when I started going to shows, everything was so much smaller—”
“Let me see,” Davey demanded. He marched over and snatched the magazine off of Aunt Peg's lap.
“Davey!”
He ignored my protest and frowned. “It's only a dog.”
“Of course it's a dog,” Angie said, laughing. “It's a dog magazine. What did you expect?”
“Cars?” my son asked hopefully.
“Not likely.” I hopped down and went to look for the bag where he'd stashed his matchbox models.
“Try page fourteen,” Angie recommended.
“What's there?” Aunt Peg asked as Davey flipped through the pages. His counting skills weren't perfect and it took him three tries to find the right page.
“Charlie.”
“Yea!” cried Davey. “A car! Can I cut it out?”
“Not until everyone's had a chance to read the magazine,” I said, taking it from him for safe keeping. The ad was one I'd noticed earlier. “Nice picture.”
Angie was visibly proud. “I got some extra copies from Pat. I'm going to frame one. Rick said I could hang it on the wall in the office.”
“Speaking of Rick,” said Aunt Peg. “Why is he running?”
We all turned and had a look. Rick was definitely running our way. “Angie! What the hell's going on? They've called the Sporting group twice!”
“I thought Hounds were next.” She dropped the brush she was holding, slithered out of her apron and grabbed a wool plaid blazer off the back of a chair.
“They changed the order. Didn't you hear the announcement?” Rick swept the Cocker off the table and was already heading back the way he'd come.
“Keep your pants on,” Angie muttered. She was running a dog comb through her hair as she hurried along behind. “We'll make it.”
They did, but only just. By the time Charlie got into the ring, the rest of the sporting dogs had already been around the ring and the first one was on the table being examined. Mrs. Byrd, sitting ringside, looked murderous. Dirk, hovering in his accustomed place behind her, appeared equally grim. I quickly scanned the line of dogs. Harry Flynn's Springer was nowhere in sight.
Fortunately for Angie, the judge didn't take punctuality into consideration. Without the Springer to push him for the win, Charlie coasted to first place easily. I looked to see if Roger Peterson was sitting inside the ring as he had the day before. He wasn't, but his wife was. I wondered if she'd enjoyed watching her daughter win.
“Mommy?” Davey tugged at my sleeve. “Can I go play?”
“With who?”
“Sarah.”
I looked the direction he was pointing. With most of the judging finished for the day and all the action concentrated in the group ring, much of the large hall was empty. Crystal's daughter had brought out a soccer ball. She was dribbling it up and down the mats in one of the unused rings.
The idea had a certain appeal. After a day and a half of being confined to my side, Davey was sorely in need of physical activity, especially with someone nearer his own age. On the other hand, he was simply too young to be on his own in the big building. Still, it was worth investigating.
“Come on,” I said, taking his hand. “Let's go see.”
“Hi Mrs. Travis.” Sarah smiled and waved as we approached. She shot her ball into an imaginary goal beneath the steward's table, lifted her hands and yelled,
“Score!”
Davey broke away and ran on ahead. He fished out the ball and kicked it back to her.
“How about taking on a teammate?” I asked her.
“Sure.” Sarah caught the ball with her foot and sent it flying back.
“Do you think you're responsible enough to keep an eye on him for a little while?”
Sarah cocked her head to one side and planted her hands on her hips. Brown bangs slanted across her eyes. Her expression was a mixture of childish exasperation and adult resolve. “I'm ten years old, and I'm very responsible. Mom even lets me run the shop at home sometimes.”
“Then I guess you're big enough to look out for Davey. Don't lose him, okay?”
“Fat chance.” Sarah giggled, watching as my son dribbled away down one of the mats. “He's got my ball!”
The Hound group was halfway done by the time I got back. Aunt Peg had saved a spot for me up near the railing and I squeezed in between her and an older man smoking a thin black cigarette. There was a “No Smoking” sign on the wall right across from us but all that nicotine must have impaired his vision because he didn't seem to notice. By the time the groups were finished, I was feeling distinctly light-headed.
“I'm going to go find Davey,” I said.
“You can't leave now,” cried Aunt Peg. “It's Best in Show!”
The Rolling Stones could have been belting out
Satisfaction
and she still couldn't have convinced me to spend one more minute standing next to that smoker. I elbowed my way to the back of the crowd jammed at ringside and had a quick scan of the surrounding area. Davey and Sarah were nowhere in sight. They'd probably grown tired of kicking the ball around and gone back to Crystal's booth.
Her concession space was on the other side of the big building. With Best in Show going on, the rest of the cavernous space was nearly empty. It was late and the casual shoppers and spectators had long since left. All the booths I passed were closed up tight for the night. Even the lighting seemed dimmer.
Which is why when I first saw Roger Peterson standing behind the All Natural Dog Munchies booth hugging Crystal Mars, I had to blink twice to be sure. Then I stopped dead. As hugs went, it wasn't a big deal; more platonic than sexual, and over in a matter of seconds. But the surprising thing was that it had happened at all.
Peterson stepped back and put his hand into his breast pocket. A small white envelope showed up clearly in the half light. Crystal glanced at it, but didn't take it. Peterson put it down on the counter and left.
He cut across through the rings and didn't notice me standing off to one side. Nor did Crystal, until I drew near. By then, she'd picked up the envelope and tucked it away.
I gave her a friendly wave and gazed around the area. “I came for Davey. He's supposed to be with Sarah.”
“Yeah, they're fine. She's reading him a story.” Crystal gestured toward the booth next door and I saw them sitting together on a pile of sheepskin dog beds, leaning over a book.
Crystal stepped out from behind her own counter to intercept me. She had to be wondering how much I'd seen.
“That was Roger Peterson, wasn't it?”
She nodded shortly, her expression daring me to make something of it; and in that moment, I knew. I looked back to where my son and her daughter sat; Sarah, with her shiny dark hair and mischievous eyes.
“Don't say it,” Crystal muttered in a low tone. “Don't say a word.”
I didn't have to, because suddenly I saw the truth of what had been sitting right in front of me.
I'm ten years old,
Sarah had told me proudly. Ten years earlier, Jenny had been on her own for a year. When she'd left home, her father had been having an affair with Crystal Mars.
It wasn't that Jenny hadn't blamed Crystal for what she had done. She'd forgiven her. Because Crystal was the mother of Jenny's half-sister. “That's why Jenny drove all the way over to Stratford to buy dog food.”
Crystal nodded. The defiance was gone, spent as quickly as it had come. Now her eyes looked tired, defeated. “She wanted to see Sarah. It's not like I was going to keep her away. Neither of them had much family they could lean on, did they?”
I stepped in closer and found myself whispering. “What about Angie?”
“That one.” Crystal sniffed contemptuously. “She won't even talk to me. As far as she's concerned, Sarah doesn't even exist.”
“Does Sarah know about her father?”
“No. I'll probably tell her when she's older. But for now, going to shows where she might run into Roger, the whole thing could be incredibly awkward. He's never denied paternity, I'll say that much for him. But I was the one who wanted Sarah, and I've taken responsibility for that. It was my decision and I'm dealing with it.”
I pretty much knew how she felt. And Sarah was a great kid. I certainly wasn't going to condemn Crystal for any of the choices she'd made.
I looked at our children, their two heads, one fair, one dark, bent over the big picture book. Then I glanced at Crystal and saw she was doing the same.
“Ziggy's her dog now,” she said softly. “It just seems right.”
I thought so too.
 
When Davey and I got back to the group ring, the Doberman had just won his second Best in Show in as many days, and Aunt Peg had been invited out to dinner. She was finagling extra invitations for her tagalong relatives when we arrived.
“Thank you, but no,” I said firmly as Davey smothered a large yawn with his hands. It was already after eight. At this hour, a quick take-out dinner would be about the most he could manage. We agreed that I would take the Poodles back to the motel with me, and Aunt Peg's friends would drop her off there later.
At our set-up, I slipped collars and leashes on our charges, both of whom were delighted to be released from their crates. Faith was more rambunctious, but Peaches was bigger. Davey got the puppy and I took the older bitch. I also picked up the
Dog Scene
and tucked it under my arm. Reading material for later when, with Aunt Peg out and Davey asleep, there wouldn't be much to do.
As we left the building Faith was pulling at the end of her lead, with Davey trotting along behind to keep up. That meant Peaches wanted to go fast, too. If Angie's voice hadn't been raised, I probably never would have noticed the two figures standing in the shadows outside the door.
“I can't believe it!” Angie cried angrily. “You had no right—”
“Shhh.” Lavinia Peterson reached out and laid a hand on her daughter's shoulder. Angrily Angie shrugged her off. “It was for your own good . . .”
There was more, but Mrs. Peterson was speaking softly and thanks to the pace Davey and Faith were setting, I was already out of range. I was tempted to circle back and listen some more, but with Best in Show over, cars were starting up all around us and I didn't dare let Davey out of my sight.
We found the Volvo, hopped the Poodles in, and I drove back past the door where I'd seen Angie and her mother arguing. Both were now gone, and Davey was in the back seat clamoring to be fed. Now I knew why Nancy Drew had been such a successful sleuth. She didn't have children. Or Poodles either, for that matter.
The excitement seemed to be over, so we headed back to the motel. On the way, I gave Davey his choice and he cast his vote for a Big Mac. At least he's consistent. We had our food bagged and brought it outside to eat in the car. Having been a dog owner for a full two months now, I knew enough to buy a couple of extra hamburgers, hold the fixings.
Aunt Peg would have said I was teaching Peaches to beg—an art Faith had long since perfected—but she was off in some fancy restaurant, probably sipping wine and talking dogs. I was the one holding down the fort and I figured what she didn't know couldn't possibly hurt me too much.
BOOK: Underdog
4.43Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Las ilusiones perdidas by Honoré de Balzac
Dragon Fever by Elsa Jade
Copenhagen Noir by Bo Tao Michaelis
Inferno by Sherrilyn Kenyon
Travelers Rest by Ann Tatlock
SF in The City Anthology by Wilkinson, Joshua
Ten Storey Love Song by Milward, Richard
Tapestry by Fiona McIntosh