Hounded to Death (12 page)

The most direct route around the inn took me down the path past the courtyard that housed the hot tub. My footsteps slowed as I approached. I'd expected the entryway through the hedges to be blocked but it wasn't.

Curiosity is an affliction. I know I should probably try harder to fight it, but instead I ducked my head through the opening and had a look around. The platform, and the tub upon it, were ringed in yellow tape but the remainder of the area looked surprisingly unchanged.

I started to withdraw, then abruptly realized that someone was seated on one of the ornamental cedar benches placed at intervals around the alcove. The woman was sitting quietly. She appeared to be totally absorbed in her own thoughts.

She became aware of my presence about the same time I noticed her. When she looked up, I realized it was Charles's wife, Caroline.

“I'm so sorry,” I said. “I didn't mean to intrude.”

“You're not intruding.” She managed a wan smile. “It's public property.”

“Yes, but—”

“Come,” she said, patting the bench beside her. “Sit for a minute.”

When I hesitated, she said, “Unless of course you don't have time.”

“I have time. I just thought you might want to be alone.”

“Nobody really wants to be alone, do they?” Caroline asked. “Isn't that why people get married?”

“That's one reason.”

Caroline scooted over. She was trim and tiny, and barely took up a quarter of the bench. I walked over and sat down beside her.

“You were one of the people who tried to help Charles last night, weren't you?” she said. “I'd like to thank you for that.”

“We did what we could. I'm sorry it wasn't enough.”

“Charles was a great admirer of your aunt.”

“And she of him. Although he managed to surprise her yesterday.”

As soon as I'd spoken the words, I wished I could recall them. There was no point in rehashing Charles's unpopular opinions now, not when it was much too late to make any difference. Fortunately Caroline didn't take offense.

“Charles liked to keep people on their toes,” she said softly. “He always said that anyone who stops learning new things might as well just stop living.”

T
he irony of that comment hit me like a kick in the gut. Or maybe the baby was just doing back flips. Either way, I felt a jolt.

Considering the circumstances, Caroline seemed remarkably composed. How could she sit there and discuss her husband's death so calmly?

“Now I've shocked you, haven't I?” she said.

“No,” I lied, perhaps not too convincingly.

Caroline shook her head. “I've always believed in facing life head-on. The good, the bad, the challenges, the tragedies. I don't hide from any of it. Charles would hate the thought of me packing my bags and running away to grieve in solitude.
Throw a party,
he would have said.
Celebrate my life rather than mourning its passing.
”

“He must have been a fascinating man.”

“He was,” said Caroline. “He was that and more. Charles was my rock, my anchor. And I was his.”

“What will you do now?”

She glanced over. “I take it you're asking short-term?”

I nodded.

“Stay here and finish out the symposium, I suppose. Watch the police do their job. Hope they figure out what in hell happened.”

“You wouldn't be happier going back home?”

“Home?” Caroline gave a little laugh. “What is that? People who judge at as many dog shows as Charles and I do spend more time on the road than we ever do at home. We learned a long time ago to make our home wherever we are that week.”

Oh.

“Besides,” she said, “the police seem to think that I might make a good suspect. That detective, what's his name?”

“Wayne?”

“That's the one. He said something about keeping myself available. I was probably supposed to think that was in case they wanted to ask me more questions, but I could guess what he really meant.”

“It's nothing personal,” I said. “Unless there's a compelling reason to think otherwise, they always look at the spouse first.”

“Yes, well, here's a compelling reason for them. I didn't kill Charles.”

“I'm sure they'll figure that out soon enough.”

“Easy for you to say…” Caroline began. Then she stopped. Her eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute, I just remembered something. You're the one who—”

“Shows Poodles,” I filled in quickly.

“Solves mysteries,” she said instead.

“Just sometimes,” I told her. “Not lately.”

“Why not?”

“Pardon me?”

“Why not lately? Lack of interest? Opportunities drying up? Well, then this should be just the thing. It must be fate, don't you think?”

“No, I—”

“Karma, kismet, call it what you will. There's a reason you came to this symposium.”

Of course there was a reason. And this wasn't it.

“I wanted a little vacation, a chance to learn about different breeds…”

“Don't be silly. Learning about dogs is a lifetime endeavor. It won't matter in the slightest if you take a week off to do something else.”

Something else? She made it sound like I might be going on a picnic instead.

“I really don't think—”

“Yes, you do. Of course you do.”

Now I was puzzled. “Do what?”

“Think,” said Caroline. “You must be a good thinker, just like Peg. Intelligence runs in families, you know. It's the same with dogs. Certain traits are specific to certain breeds.”

And I'd inherited my nosiness gene from Aunt Peg? Interesting thought. It actually would have been a good guess except for one thing: she and I were only related by marriage.

“I can see how this could come together quite well,” said Caroline. “All your suspects are currently gathered together in one place. Isn't that handy?”

“I'm sure the police think so.”

“The police,” Caroline scoffed. “What do they know about dogs?”

I swallowed a laugh. Caroline thought like Aunt Peg. No matter how many times the course of events zigged and zagged, in the end everything important always came back to dogs.

Except that I was willing to stake my reputation on the fact that no dog had committed this murder.

“I guess this means you're not placing much faith in the detective,” I said.

“Hard to, these days, isn't it? The only good police seem to be the ones on television and they have their plots written for them. In real life, nothing ever gets solved so easily, or so quickly. It's already been almost twenty-four hours. What do you think they've done so far?”

“Mostly ask questions, I guess.”

“So they're busy detecting, big deal. What about solving? That's what I'd like to see.”

Another woman who knew just what she wanted. Caroline had spoken earlier of fate and this was apparently mine. To always be surrounded by strong women.

I'd been sitting long enough that my legs had begun to go to sleep. I stood up and stretched. Then I began to rock, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.

Caroline eyed me curiously.

“Pregnant,” I said.

“Still early, I assume?”

I nodded.

“Boy or girl?”

“We don't know.”

“That's the good thing with dogs. You get both.”

I laughed. “Thanks, but I don't want a litter.”

“Dogs and people,” said Caroline. “In some ways, they're not that different. Dogs attack when they feel threatened.”

“Or when they're hungry,” I said, thinking of the stray I was supposed to be looking for.

“Murder for profit? It's a possibility.” Caroline stood up and brushed off her skirt. “But I'll tell you what I think. Somebody here felt threatened by Charles. Now all you have to do is figure out why.”

“I'll give it some thought,” I said.

“You do that. Somebody took my husband away from me. I'd like to know who was responsible.”

Caroline looked as though she was ready to leave. I forestalled her departure by asking a question. One I'd been wondering about since the day before.

“When Charles delivered his keynote speech…did you know ahead of time what he was planning to say?”

“No,” Caroline replied quickly. “I didn't have a clue. My husband gave many such talks. He spoke to kennel clubs, to judges' groups. He tended to compose his speeches at the last moment. It would have driven me crazy to leave things so late, but that was just his way.”

“So he didn't run anything past you? Maybe practice ahead of time?”

“There was never a chance to do something like that. The first time I heard the speech was in the lecture hall along with everyone else.”

Caroline began to walk away. Once again I stopped her.

“Were you surprised?”

“Of course.”

“Maybe annoyed?”

She spun around to face me. “What would have been the point? The damage was already done.”

“Did that worry you?”

“Worry me?” She sounded perplexed.

“Were you concerned about the effect his talk might have on your career?”

“Not in the slightest.” Now her tone was firm. “Charles would have found a way to fix things. He was good at that. Given the chance, he'd have made everything right again. I'm sure of it.”

 

I'd spent so long with Caroline that after she left I ended up merely doing a quick walk around the back of the inn. There was nothing notable to be seen: no kitchen workers, no stray dog, just a couple of garbage cans with their lids firmly closed.

Completing my circle of the building, I met up with Bertie in the parking lot. She'd walked the driveway from top to bottom, then back again, and hadn't seen anything either.

“Where do you suppose Peg is?” she asked.

We both turned and looked toward the woods. The trail I'd followed the day before had been no more than a mile long and very well marked. If Aunt Peg hadn't returned yet, it was probably because something was holding her up.

Of one accord, we headed toward the hiking path.

I'm not usually a big worrier, but like so many other things, that had also changed recently. When a vision of Charles, floating face down in the hot tub, teased its way into my subconscious, I pulled out my phone and pressed Aunt Peg's number.

She picked up on the first ring and snapped, “Don't bother me, I'm busy.” Before I could say a single word, the connection was severed.

So much for my concern. Aunt Peg was not only fine; she was
busy
.

“I guess that means she's okay,” Bertie said with a laugh as she watched me tuck the phone away.

“How much do you want to bet she found our missing dog?”

We were already hurrying, but we quickened our footsteps anyway. As soon as the woods enveloped us, it grew both cooler and darker. The ground felt damp beneath my feet and I gathered my jacket more tightly around me. The smell of pine was everywhere.

“I can see why a stray dog would want to hide out in here,” said Bertie. She peered into the dense wall of tree trunks that surrounded us. “Step six feet off this path and you'd disappear entirely.”

Up ahead through the trees, I saw a flash of blue, down low near the ground. Aunt Peg's coat. I held up a hand. Bertie and I both slowed.

Creeping along quietly, we could hear Aunt Peg talking. Or crooning really, as the utterance was more sounds than words: a comforting murmur meant to put a skittish animal at ease.

We rounded the next turn and Peg came into view. She was sitting quietly in the middle of the path. The German Shepherd was another ten feet farther away.

The dog had been lying down. His ears were cocked, his head tipping slowly from one side to the other as he listened to what Aunt Peg had to say. Seeing us, however, he leapt to his feet. His body was motionless but only for the moment; the Shepherd was poised for flight.

“Stop right there!” she said. “You'll ruin everything.”

We had but it was already too late.

Still half crouched, the Shepherd darted a last, wary glance in our direction. Then he spun around and slunk away into the underbrush.

“Damn,” Peg muttered.

“Sorry,” I said.

“As well you should be. I think I was finally beginning to gain his confidence.”

Bertie reached down a hand and helped Aunt Peg to her feet. “And then we came along and spoiled things for you.”

“Never mind.” Peg stared off into the trees for a moment, before turning back to us. “There'll be another day. He's a good boy, or at least he wants to be. It looks like he was somebody's pet at one time. He knew how to trust humans once. All we have to do is make him remember how that felt.”

“Poor guy,” said Bertie. “He's a nice looking dog. I wonder what he's doing out here all by himself.”

“He's probably wondering that too.” Peg reached around and brushed off the seat of her pants. “He's cold, lonely, and hungry. And I'd be willing to bet that none of it is his fault.”

“You'd think he'd want us to help him,” I said.

Both Aunt Peg and Bertie shook their heads. Their experience with dogs far outweighs mine. The Poodles I'd left back in Connecticut with Sam and Davey were the first pets I'd ever owned.

“His last experience with people can't have been good,” said Bertie. “Otherwise he wouldn't be in this situation.”

“He's afraid of people now,” Peg added. “And probably with good reason. So it's up to us to change his mind.”

“At least he seems to stay around the inn,” I pointed out. “So he hasn't gone completely wild.”

Aunt Peg nodded. “If we take things slowly and give him enough time, I believe eventually he'll be willing to meet us halfway. And of course the half pound of ground meat I just fed him won't hurt our case a bit.”

Trust Aunt Peg to have a plan. Boy Scouts had nothing on her.

“Now he'll go back to his den with a full stomach and think about that for a while. And tomorrow when we come looking for him again, I suspect he might not be as hard to find.”

As we walked back to the inn, I told them about my conversation with Caroline.

“She wants Charles's killer found,” I said at the end.

“Of course she does,” Peg agreed. “We all do.”

“But the police aren't looking at all of us as potential suspects.”

Aunt Peg thought for a moment. “I wouldn't say that I knew either of them particularly well. But at least from the outside, their marriage always seemed as solid as most.”