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Authors: Laurien Berenson

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BOOK: Death of a Dog Whisperer (9780758284570)
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When Claire crouched down and held out a hand, the dogs didn't rush forward to overwhelm her. Instead they surrounded her quietly, pressing their bodies against hers and offering their own silent brand of support.
“What lovely Standard Poodles,” said Claire. She looped an arm around Raven's neck and gazed at Augie, whose long hair was held in place by an array of protective bands and wraps. “Is that one a show dog?”
“They all were, at one time or another,” I told her. It was easier for both of us to talk about the Poodles than about the true reason for their visit. “Augie is the only one who's being shown right now. He belongs to our son Davey.”
“Davey,” Claire murmured. “Of course.”
My eyes widened.
Claire knew Davey?
I shot my ex-husband a questioning look over her head.
Bob, that coward, pretended not to notice.
Ignore me at your peril, I thought. Then my gaze shifted to Sam. How much did
he
know? Was I the only one who didn't have a clue what was going on?
Sam must have sensed the tension in the air. He moved quickly to change the subject. “Come on in and sit down,” he said to Bob and Claire. “Does anyone want food? Or something to drink?”
Nobody took Sam up on his offer of refreshments. Instead we all followed him into the living room. Bob and Claire headed for the couch. I helped myself to a chair.
The Poodles came with us and Raven continued to remain close to Claire. When she took a seat on the couch, Raven sat down on her feet and leaned her warm body against Claire's legs. Bob, outmaneuvered by a Poodle, had to be content with a seat at the other end.
“Claire wanted to talk to you about Nick,” Bob began.
I nodded, then waited for Claire to chart the course of the conversation. When she continued to remain silent, Sam said, “We only know what's been reported on TV. Do the police have a better idea of what happened than they're telling the media?”
“They have a few more facts, but not many,” Claire said. She stopped and shook her head. “All they know for sure at this point is that Nick was shot last night in his home. There was no forced entry. They're speculating that he knew the person who shot him.”
“Any sign of a struggle?” I asked.
“No. And Nick's dogs were there with him. He has two, a Rottweiler mix and little terrier. They're both pound puppies but they've been with Nick for years and are utterly devoted to him. If my brother had tried to defend himself, I'm sure they would have helped him if they could.”
That was interesting.
“Who has the dogs now?” I asked.
“They're with me,” Claire said. “I picked them up this morning. It was because of them that Nick was found.”
“Apparently they started barking and howling.” Bob picked up the story. “Nick's neighbor said the noise went on for more than an hour. She told the police that that was highly unusual. She said Nick never allowed his dogs to cause a disturbance. So she went next door around nine o'clock to check and see if everything was all right.”
“She took one look in the front window and called the police,” said Claire.
“So Nick had a nighttime visitor,” I mused. “Someone both he and his dogs must have felt comfortable with. Did he have a girlfriend?”
Bob snickered, then quickly apologized. “Sorry. Yes, he did. Short answer, yes.”
I turned to Claire. “What's the long answer?”
“There's one girl he's been involved with for several months. Her name is Diana Lee. But Nick is the kind of guy who attracts women. It's not unusual for him to be juggling several at once. I guess he and Diana are serious enough but my brother's not big on commitment.”
“Was that a source of friction between them?” I asked.
Claire shrugged. “If it was, I never saw it. I never saw anything wrong at all. That's what's so awful about this. My brother was
fine
. He was building his business, he was happy with his life, he was in a good place. Until . . .”
Claire didn't finish the sentence. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bob wince. Maybe that should have clued me in to what was coming. I hate it when I'm the last person in the room to catch on.
“Until?” I prompted her.
Claire lifted her head and jutted out her chin. “Until he got himself mixed up with your Aunt Peg.”
Chapter 8
O
h, lordy, I thought. Had she just said what I thought
I'd heard?
Judging by the expressions on Sam's and Bob's faces, she had indeed.
“You think that Aunt Peg had something to do with Nick's murder?” I asked incredulously.
Now let's get something straight. Aunt Peg is no angel. She can be tough, and manipulative, and sometimes downright scary. But murder? Even for her, that was pushing credibility. Besides, my aunt had adored Nick. She'd promised him her support. She'd even talked about throwing him a party.
I've been related to Aunt Peg for decades and she's never thrown a party for me. Just so we know where we all stand.
“That's crazy,” I said flatly.
“Maybe,” Claire replied. “And maybe not. All I know is that the police asked me if anything had changed recently in Nick's life and the only thing I could come up with was that he'd gotten involved with your aunt.”
“You told the police you thought Peg Turnbull would make a good suspect?” Sam was biting his lip. He looked like he was trying not to laugh.
“Not in so many words. To tell the truth, I don't remember much of what I said. I had just found out that my brother was dead and I'm sure I wasn't thinking clearly.”
Claire looked around the room, her gaze resting on each of us in turn. “But I thought about it afterward. The police seemed to think something like that—a new friend, a new business associate—was important. So maybe it is.”
In spite of myself, I liked her for that. Claire was obviously upset and in pain. She was surrounded by the very people most likely to disagree with her opinion. And yet she still didn't back down. I had to admire her determination.
“You've come to the wrong place,” I said to Bob. “You should have taken Claire to see Aunt Peg.”
“No way.” He shook his head vehemently. “I have too high a regard for my own good health for that. I figured you guys can break the news to Peg.”
That was
so
not happening, I thought.
“And besides,” said Bob. “There's the other thing.”
The day wasn't even half over yet, I thought. How could there possibly be something else? Maybe a local outbreak of the plague? Or perhaps a tsunami bearing down on the Connecticut coast?
“What other thing?” I asked.
“You know,” Bob said. “The mystery thing. You like to solve them. I told Claire that you could help.”
I heard a low growl beside me. I was pretty sure that it had come from Sam. His patience with my ex-husband's antics tends to be even shorter than my own.
“That was nice of you, Bob,” I said mildly. “But I doubt that Claire would want help . . .
from the chief suspect's family
.”
Bob blanched. I guessed he hadn't thought about that.
“Well, yeah,” he stammered. “But Peg is probably innocent, right?”
There was no point in responding. I couldn't even believe that he'd felt the need to ask.
“Thank you, Bob,” Sam answered for me. His tone was frosty but at least he didn't have his fingers wrapped around my ex-husband's neck. “Melanie and I will take your idea under advisement.”
“I think I'd better be going,” said Claire.
She stood up and we all walked her to the door. When Bob attempted to slip out with her, I laid a heavy hand on his shoulder and held him firmly in place.
“Not so fast,” I muttered under my breath.
“I'll phone you later,” Bob called after Claire.
She nodded and kept on walking. I waited until she'd gotten into her car and started down the driveway before closing the door. Then I used my grip on Bob's shoulder to steer him back into the living room. Left with little choice, he sat back down on the couch.
“Now,” I said. “Suppose you tell us what that was all about?”
“What do you mean?” Bob managed a look of baffled innocence.
Like that was going to get him off the hook.
I stood next to the couch and glared down at him. “For starters, what's your relationship with Claire Walden? Why did you bring her here today? And most importantly,
how does she know Davey
?”
“Those are all good questions,” Bob replied.
He cast a quick glance at Sam for support. I intercepted the look they shared and felt myself grow cold. For the second time, I found myself wondering what the two of them knew that I didn't.
Had my husband and my ex-husband been complicit in keeping secrets from me? I couldn't even fathom the possibility. And quite frankly, if I was about to discover that that appalling notion was true, I would rather have weathered the tsunami.
Since Bob seemed to have been struck dumb, I swung my gaze in Sam's direction. “Maybe you'd like to start,” I said.
He held up both hands and took a step back. A gesture denoting innocence or an attempt to ward off bad news? It was hard to tell.
“No, thank you,” Sam said quickly. “This is all on Bob.”
Now there were two of us staring at my ex-husband. Or eight, if you count the Poodles. They seemed anxious to hear what he had to say too.
“Oh for Pete's sake,” Bob said. “This conversation has gone spinning off the rails for no reason. Claire is my girlfriend, okay? We've been together since spring. It's no big deal.”
He was right, I thought. It
was
no big deal. So why all the subterfuge?
“And?” I asked.
Bob shrugged. “That's it, there's nothing more to tell. Claire and I are having a great time together. End of story.”
“And where does Davey fit in?”
“Just where you'd expect, if you stopped and thought about it.”
I would most certainly have done so. That is, if anyone had done me the courtesy of letting me know there was something that needed thinking about.
“Davey's my son,” said Bob. “And Claire's my girlfriend. I spend as much time with both of them as I can. So it's kind of inevitable that those times would overlap. Davey and Claire met at my house a couple of months ago. They get along great.”
A couple of
months
ago? Not only was Bob's explanation not helping, it was having the opposite effect instead. My head was starting to spin with the implications.
I sank into a chair opposite him. “Doesn't it seem odd to you that Davey would meet a woman at your house, apparently spend a significant amount of time in her company, and yet never think to mention her to me?”
Bob frowned uncomfortably. “Yeah, well . . . about that. I might have told him that talking to you about Claire was a bad idea.”
And the other shoe dropped.
I sighed. It was either that or shriek. “Bob, why would you have done that?”
“I was trying to spare you.”
“Spare me?”
“I didn't want you to be upset.”
“Well, clearly that isn't working,” I snapped. “How could I not find the fact that you told Davey to keep secrets from me, upsetting?”
“I guess I didn't look at it that way,” Bob admitted. Then he brightened. “I told him he could tell Sam.”
“Right.” I turned and directed a frown at the second culprit. “You were in on this deception too. Just tell me one thing.
Why?
”
“Oh pish,” said Aunt Peg, standing in the doorway. “Do we really have to explain this to you?”
I swiveled around in my seat. “Who let you in?”
“The door was unlocked. I let myself in. Eve and Augie were kind enough to come and greet me. Which is more than can be said for my relatives.”
Vaguely I'd noticed that several Poodles had left the room. Too distracted by the conversation, I hadn't thought to stop and wonder why.
Sam hopped up and offered Aunt Peg his chair. Delighted to have my attention deflected away from him, he looked inordinately pleased by her arrival. Not that he was going to escape that easily.
“Your relatives were too busy arguing to answer the door,” I told her.
“So I heard,” Aunt Peg replied tartly. “Somehow— despite the
truly
appalling news we've had today—Bob's relationship with Claire seems to be the issue under discussion?”
“You knew about her
too?
”
“Oh please.” Peg sniffed. “You needn't sound so shocked. We all knew about Claire. You were the only one who was oblivious.”
“Or kept in the dark,” I muttered. “Depending on how you look at it.”
“Bob had good reason for that. Even I understood.”
“Then I wish you would explain it to me.”
“It's really very simple,” Aunt Peg said. “The other two times Bob was involved in a serious relationship, you became all out of sorts. None of us wanted to deal with that turmoil again.”
My jaw fell open. Aunt Peg had to be joking. I looked around the room. Amazingly, I seemed to be the only one who found that blithe summation of past events absurdly simplistic. All out of sorts indeed.
“Bob's last girlfriend shot me,” I pointed out.
“There was that,” Sam agreed.
I was not impressed. His support was too little, too late.
“And the one before that was eighteen.”
“Twenty,” Bob corrected.
“Same difference!”
“Not really”
I silenced Bob with a glare. “It doesn't matter. What does matter is that I had valid objections to both those women. And the
only
reason I care about that is because any woman who is in your life, is also in Davey's. As you yourself just pointed out.”
Bob nodded. “I feel much better having this is all out in the open,” he said. “So what did you think of Claire?”
Seriously? He wanted to know that
now?
Hadn't he been listening to anything I'd said?
Apparently not. Because my ex-husband was sitting there, awaiting my reply.
“I've barely even had a chance to meet the poor woman,” I told him shortly. “And that was under the worst possible circumstances. I'm still reserving judgment.”
“I wish I could say the same,” Aunt Peg muttered.
It turned out nobody had to break the news to her that she was a suspect in Nick Walden's murder. The police had already performed that duty for us.
Aunt Peg was not amused. “I hardly had time to assimilate the news myself before the police were knocking on my door and asking what I knew about it.”
“What did you tell them?” I asked.
“The only thing I could. That Nick was a wonderful young man and I hadn't any idea who might have wanted to harm him. Then I advised them that they'd better hurry and get things sorted out, otherwise I might have to put my niece on the case.”
“Oh, Aunt Peg, you did not say that!” I was horrified by the thought. “Please tell me you didn't.”
The local authorities and I shared an uneasy and sometimes contentious relationship. Even when I managed to turn up information that they wouldn't otherwise have had, the professionals were never happy to hear that an amateur had been asking questions about one of their cases. And they really hated it when I beat them to the punch.
“Of course I did. There's nothing like the threat of a little competition to keep people on their toes.”
“I'm sure the police are every bit as eager to solve this murder as you are to see it solved,” said Sam. “There's no need to goad them along.”
“That's precisely what Detective O'Malley told me.”
“O'Malley?” I said faintly.
Aunt Peg nodded. “Do you know him?”
“We met several years ago,” I said. “It's not a particularly happy memory.”
“I can understand why. He had the nerve to ask me whether I possessed an alibi for the time in question. And unfortunately the good detective was not the slightest bit impressed by my answer. Apparently the law does not consider Standard Poodles to be reliable witnesses.”
“You may not have an alibi,” I pointed out. “But you don't have a motive either. Surely that has to count in your favor.”
“I suppose it would have,” Aunt Peg said slyly,“ if I'd gotten around to mentioning it.”
Sam shook his head. “Peg, what are you up to now?”
“Since I was thrust into this situation without my consent, I've decided to take advantage of it,” Aunt Peg replied. “Nick's death is more than a personal loss; it's also a blow to the local dog community. I want to see that his killer is brought to justice. And I can't think of a better way to keep tabs on the investigation than to allow myself to continue as one of the suspects.”
For a minute there was only silence in the room. I think the three of us were too stunned to speak. Even the Poodles looked surprised by this turn of events.
Aunt Peg glanced in my direction. “Don't bother to thank me. It's the least I can do. You know I like to make myself useful.”
“Thank you?” I echoed. “For what?”
“For keeping you in the loop, of course. Your own investigation will proceed much more smoothly if you know what the police are doing.”
Really, I shouldn't have been surprised. Aunt Peg is the queen of ulterior motives. As soon as she appeared in the doorway, I should have known that she was up to something.
“What a great idea,” Bob said enthusiastically. “Well done, Peg!”
Somewhere pigs were taking flight. Or perhaps there was a blue moon in the offing. Those were the only explanations I could come up with for this apparent detente between my ex-husband and my aunt.
BOOK: Death of a Dog Whisperer (9780758284570)
8.52Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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