Death of a Dog Whisperer (9780758284570) Read online

  “Berkley and I ran into Nick outside Bob’s house one day,” Alice said with a grimace. “As in, we literally ran into him. I guess I wasn’t paying enough attention because when B saw something interesting and started to run, the leash flew right out of my hands. By the time I caught up, Nick was standing on the sidewalk with the lead wrapped around his legs. Even worse, Berkley—who obviously was stuck too—was barking like some demented hound from hell. Of course I immediately started to apologize.”

  “Of course,” I agreed.

  “And then I got a good look at Nick and all I could think was, Oh crap, why did I run out of the house looking like this? Would it have killed me to put on a little lipstick to walk the dog?”

  That made me laugh. Yeah, Nick was that cute.

  “But you know,” Alice continued, “he couldn’t have been nicer about the whole thing. Not only that, but in less than a minute the two of them were untangled and Berkley was sitting calmly beside him like a perfect angel. I have no idea how Nick did it. It was like watching someone perform magic.”

  “Nick was a dog whisperer,” I said softly. My smile died as the enormity of the loss hit me again, making my chest feel hollow and empty.

  “That’s what he told me.” Alice expression grew somber too. “He said that Goldens make great family dogs, but even great dogs need steady, dependable training. He offered to give me a few pointers.”

  “That sounds like Nick. He wanted the best for every dog he came in contact with.”

  “I took his card and tucked it away,” said Alice. “I planned to take him up on his offer when the kids’ camps start and I have more time. I’m sure he could have helped us.”

  Just one more way in which Nick’s death had been a tragic waste. “I barely knew the guy,” I said. “But I know I’m going to miss him.”

  “Don’t make me cry.” Alice reached up and scrubbed a hand across her cheek. Then she reached around me and opened the car door. “Kevin will be fine here until you’re ready to come and get him. And you’ll have to tell me what Bob says. Maybe he knows something that can help us make sense of what happened.”

  “Maybe,” I replied. “But I wouldn’t count on it. I don’t think there’s anything that could make me feel better about this.”

  I’d barely arrived back home when Bob’s dark green Explorer turned in to the driveway. To my surprise, another car followed behind his. The second car was a small, red, Japanese hybrid. There appeared to be a woman driving it.

  I stood in the front hall and stared shamelessly out the window, waiting for the pair to get out of their cars. I wanted to see who our second visitor was.

  “What are you doing?” asked Sam, coming up behind me.

  “Spying,” I replied, my voice hushed. As if I was afraid that the people outside the house could hear me.

  “On your ex-husband? I didn’t know you were still that interested. Should I be worried?”

  “I’m not looking at him.” I pulled Sam over beside me and pointed out the window. “It’s the woman I’m curious about.”

  By now she’d stepped out of the second car. She paused for a moment and gazed over at the house. Aviator-framed sunglasses covered her eyes; I couldn’t read her expression. The woman was tall and slender, wearing a narrow linen sheath dress in a bright shade of pink that complimented her dark, glossy, hair. Her arms and legs were bare; she’d dressed appropriately for the warm summer day. Even so, she didn’t look comfortable. Or maybe I was reading more into her stance than was actually there.

  Bob had disembarked too. He stood next to the Explorer, waiting for her so that they could walk to the house together. When she reached his side, he slipped an arm around her waist and briefly pulled her close.

  As I watched, Bob leaned down and said something to the woman. His lips brushed lightly across her silky hair. His hand continued to rest lightly on her hip. The contact between them appeared both supportive and intimate. Whoever the woman was, she and Bob knew one another well.

  “Oh,” said Sam.

  I reared back and looked at him. “What does that mean?”

  Sam didn’t answer. Instead he slipped past me and opened the door. I stayed where I was and stared after him. Oh indeed.

  Bob and the woman were already coming up the wide front steps. She lifted a hand gracefully and slid her shades up on top of her head. Her eyes were amber, flecked with bits of brown. She smiled briefly as Bob made the introductions.

  “Melanie, Sam, this is Claire Walden,” he said. “Claire is Nick’s sister.”

  I did not see that coming. Choking on the greeting I’d meant to offer, I just stuck out my hand instead. Thankfully Sam’s manners were smoother. He invited the couple inside. That gave me the minute I needed to regain control. But . . . Bob and Nick’s sister?

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said to Claire. “I only met your brother recently, but I was hoping to have the chance to get to know him better.”

  “Thank you,” she said softly.

  Her gaze slid past me and went to the pack of Poodles gathered at the back of the hall. The big black dogs had come running when the door opened. But instead of offering their usual exuberant welcome, today the Poodles seemed to sense the mood of our guests. A palpable feeling of sadness hung in the air and their response was equally subdued.

  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

  Oh, 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 san
k 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.”