Chapter 3

“Go, Alistair, go!” Fee was shouting loud enough for all of us. I left Viv to her phone and ran over to the sidelines to add my encouragement.

Out of nowhere a player from the other team appeared. He was closing in on Alistair. I watched as Harry sprinted—seriously, I’d never seen him move so fast—running to intercept the player in green and white. He made a diving tackle, well, I assumed it was supposed to be a tackle, but he mostly grabbed the man by the ankle, forcing him to stumble and then drag Harry’s dead weight. Finally, the man in green and white went down with a bellow as he shot out an arm for Alistair, who neatly sidestepped and doubled down on his speed.

One more brick wall of a man appeared but Alistair feinted to the right and then leapt into the air on the guy’s left, flying the required yardage over the line to ground the ball and score a try.

Our side of the pitch went crazy. I scanned the field, looking for Harry. He was already up and running and he and Alistair did a very manly, cough cough, chest bump at the end of the field.

“That was amazing! Did you see?” Fee cried. She had her hat in her hand and was swinging it wildly as if it were a flag. Nick was on the other side of her, waving his actual flag, and the two of them started chanting, “Thirs-ty Li-ons!”

When they both mimicked a lion’s roar with their fingers curled like claws, I laughed. They were fearsome—not. I turned and found Viv standing beside me. She was frowning at the pitch. Even having known her all my life, I had no idea what she was thinking.

“Impressive, right?” I asked.

“If you like dirty, sweaty, grunting men,” she said.

“Check, check and check,” I replied.

She gave me a look that I’m sure was meant to discourage me, but when I glanced over to where Harry was lining up with his mates—look at me, using the appropriate lingo—I couldn’t help but appreciate the ruddy splotches of color on his cheeks, the sparkle in his impossibly green eyes, and the sweat-soaked hank of hair that fell over his forehead into his eyes. My man was a rugby hottie. Who knew?

The game continued and Andre joined me, taking Viv’s place as she retreated to the blanket. The one thing I noticed without Andre pointing it out was how respectful the players were of the refs. No matter the call, it was greeted with “yes, sir” or “no, sir.” Gentlemen, indeed.

Fee and I took a breather and ransacked our food. The cold evening air was making me ravenous and the sandwiches we’d brought were calling my name with an insistence that could no longer be ignored.

We’d packed a classic ploughman’s nosh of cheese and pickle sandwiches, made with Wensleydale cheese and local pickles nestled between two thick slabs of whole grain bread. It sounds gross, but I’d been converted during my time in London and it was now my go-to sandwich in the middle of the night. Guaranteed to sate the hunger and also give a gal some spectacularly weird dreams.

Just as I was taking my first big bite, I heard a commotion on the field. I chewed quickly as I hurried back to the sidelines. The lights had been switched on and the field had that twilight glow about it where the sky was a soft plush purple and the bare limbs of the trees, illuminated by the field spotlights, reached up toward the sky as if desperate for some springtime warmth.

Running across the patchy dry grass was one player who was clearly shorter and hairier than the others. Freddy! He had his eye on the ball and was not about to give it up to the man holding it. With yips and barks, he hunkered low and raced down the field after the player, who glanced over his shoulder with a look of stark surprise.

I saw Harry and Alistair run after the dog. Aunt Betty was down the field, holding a leash with no dog attached, looking as if she had no idea how that had happened.

“I say, isn’t there a height requirement for club rugby?” Nick asked Andre, who started to laugh. “I mean, he’s got the speed but he’ll be shortchanged if he gets the ball.”

Andre clapped his hand on Nick’s shoulder and quipped, “That’s a low blow.”

Nick started to chuckle and so did I. Unable to leave it alone, I just couldn’t help myself. I wedged myself in between them and said, “It’ll be the height of disappointment for him.”

They stopped laughing and looked down at me. Nick shook his head with a pained expression and Andre pressed his lips together. I could tell he was trying not to laugh.

“You know that was a good one.” I poked him in the ribs with the hand not holding my sandwich. Then I took another bite.

“Cheese and pickles? Excellent, pet, come along,” Nick said. He threw his arm around my shoulders and led me downfield. “You, or more accurately, your sandwich, is going to be bait.”

“But I like my sandwich,” I protested. “It’s my favorite.”

“Please, we have Scotch eggs and sausage rolls in our basket and there’s plenty for everyone,” Nick said.

“And wine,” Andre added.

That tipped the scale. We approached the field.

“I say, what’s he doing now?” Nick asked.

Freddy was running this way and that. He seemed to be circling the players on both teams, trying to draw them into a tighter and tighter circle, with Harry and Alistair winding in the tightest as they tried to catch him without hurting him.

“I think he’s herding them,” I said. “Are corgis herd dogs?”

“Judging by this, I’m going to say ‘yes,’” Andre said.

“We’d better help them, because I don’t think he’s going to tire out anytime soon.” Nick said. “And by ‘we’ I mean ‘you.’”

“Fine.” I lowered my sandwich and cried, “Freddy! Here, Freddy, I have some Wensleydale cheese for you.”

Aunt Betty waved to me from downfield. I assumed she was giving me the okay, and I waved back.

“Cheese, Freddy!” I cried again, louder this time.

And don’t you know, that dog heard me, even over all the racket of the players and the crowd. One minute he had the big oval ball in his sights and the next thing I knew, he did a flip in the air, impressive for those stumpy little legs and worthy of something from The Matrix, and then he was coming at me like a bullet.

Low to the ground, his paws churned up the hard turf as he ran. Any herding of the players was forgotten as he locked in on the cheese.

“Is he going to stop?” Nick cried.

“He’s not slowing down!” Andre yelled.

“Ah!” they yelled in unison and abandoned me as I moved the sandwich to my side; just as Freddy was closing in, I tossed it high and wide. Again, he made a midair correction and snatched the sandwich before it hit the ground. He landed on his feet and continued to chomp my sandwich as Harry and Aunt Betty came running over.

Harry grabbed the leash from Aunt Betty and clipped Freddy while he scarfed down the last little bit of my cheese and pickles. It wasn’t very nice of me, but I hoped the pickles gave him heartburn.

“Brilliant, love, just brilliant,” Harry said. Then he kissed me on the head. “Are you all right? He didn’t nip you, did he?”

“No, I’m fine,” I said. I looked at Freddy. “I hear there are sausage rolls in the area. Let me be clear, they are mine.”

Freddy wagged his tail, and Aunt Betty, wheezing a bit, said, “Thank you, my dear, that was quick thinking.”

“No problem.”

Harrison handed Aunt Betty the leash and I noticed that her lip wobbled just a bit.

“Are you all right, Aunt Betty?” I asked. “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

“No, I . . .” She waved her hand dismissively.

“What a handsome dog,” Andre said. He was crouched down beside Freddy, admiring him, while Freddy sniffed his hand. “I bet he could win best in show at the upcoming dog show.”

Aunt Betty blinked. Her sadness was forgotten. “Do you really think so?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’ve actually been hired to take pictures at the PAWS dog show this weekend. From what I’ve seen, not that I’m an expert, Freddy has the right stuff.”

“Shut up!” I said. “You’re working the dog show? Aunt Betty and Freddy are entering the dog show.”

“Maybe,” Aunt Betty said.

“Wait,” I said. “What’s happened? You were so excited to enter.”

Aunt Betty glanced up and her eyes filled with worry. “I’m nervous.”

“What? Why?” Viv cried. She was standing behind us and moved to break into our tight little circle. “How can that be? He has hats!”

“Hats?” Andre and Nick asked together.

“Yes, and they’re spectacular,” Viv said.

“We’ve seen them.” Harry gestured between us. “They’re top-notch.”

Viv visibly calmed down.

Harry turned back to his aunt. “Can you tell us why you’re worried? Has something happened?”

“Richard Freestone, among other things,” she said. Her brown eyes narrowed and her lips tightened.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t he the man who won last year?”

“And the year before that and the year before that,” Aunt Betty said. She sounded glum.

“Well, then it’s absolutely time for someone else to win,” Nick said. “No worries, your handsome lad there is a shoo-in.”

Aunt Betty took a shaky breath and nodded. “You’d think so but today when I turned in our application, Freddy and I went to the office just like we always do—”

“Oy, Worthless, are you playing or what?” one of Harry’s teammates yelled.

He turned around and shook his head. “I need a minute. Call in Cal to sub for me.”

The player gave him a sharp nod and turned back to the game.

Harry took his aunt’s arm and led her over to Nick and Andre’s picnic basket. “Here. Have a seat and tell us what happened.”

Nick popped open the top of their basket and neatly poured Aunt Betty a glass of chardonnay. She accepted it graciously while Freddy, having filled up on my sandwich, sprawled down on their blanket for a nap. Much to my amusement, Aunt Betty lifted her glass in a toast to us all and then downed it in one long swallow.

Harry didn’t look surprised. Nick looked like he was choking back a laugh as he refilled her glass, but I knew from glancing at Andre that my face likely had the same look of amazement as his. The woman was tiny, built like a songbird; she was going to be schnockered.

“All right, here’s what happened,” Aunt Betty said. She waved her glass while she spoke but her voice was clear and her eyes held a look of ire, which was much preferable to the sad expression she’d worn just a few moments earlier.

“Freddy and I went to register this afternoon at Finchley Park and we ran into Liza Stanhope,” she said.

“Socialite Liza Stanhope?” Harrison asked.

“That’s the one,” Aunt Betty said. “She’s the director of the PAWS committee, you know.”

Harry nodded as if he did know, but I was pretty sure this was brand-new information. I had never heard of Liza Stanhope, which was weird because most of London’s finest came to Viv for their hats. The fact that she had never graced our shop with her presence I found a bit off-putting. Who did this Liza Stanhope think she was, anyway?

“She was there when I filled out my registration and she actually curled her lip at Freddy,” Aunt Betty said. “And then she said with a sneer that a corgi would never win best in show, not if she had anything to say about it.”

Aunt Betty reached down and patted Freddy’s head. She was clearly rattled and I wondered if that had been Liza Stanhope’s plan all along, to cause Aunt Betty to be filled with self-doubt.

“Oh, Aunt B, she’s just the director, she’s not a judge,” Harry said. “You can’t let her get into your head like that.”

“I know, but you didn’t see her face,” Aunt B protested. “And that’s not the worst of it.”

I was all ears. This was what I was certain we were waiting for.

“When I arrived home before coming here, I found a note in my postbox that was handwritten and . . . it said . . .” She paused as if trying to compose herself before she continued, “‘If you persist in competing in the dog show, I will poison your dog.’”

There was a collective gasp.

“That’s horrible!” Nick declared. “What sort of evil person does that?”

“Someone who does not want Aunt B competing,” Harry said. He frowned and studied her face. “Any idea who it might be?”

She shook her head. “The cocktail party that kicks off the three-day competition is tomorrow night, and I’m worried that someone will try to slip Freddy something. I can’t risk him but I hate that I’m being intimidated.”

“Will Freddy be attending the cocktail party?” Harry asked.

“Of course,” she said. “All the dogs go. They have dog-friendly mocktails, it’s adorable and Freddy loves it.”

“Well, then Scarlett and I will go with you and make sure nothing untoward happens,” Harry said. “Don’t you worry, Aunt B, we’ve got your back.”

“Nick and I will be there, too,” Andre said. “I’m the official event photographer, after all.”

“That’s perfect.” I turned back to Aunt Betty. “See? We’ll all be there to protect you and Freddy from harm. It’s probably just an idle threat. We should see if anyone else got the same note. Also, we should bring it to the police.”

“She’s right,” Harry said. “Did you save it, Aunt B?”

“I did,” she said.

“Then we’ll follow up at the party tomorrow and visit the police, too,” Harry said. “Everything is going to be just fine.”

“Thank you, my dear.” Aunt Betty smiled at all of us. She reached down and patted Freddy’s head. “Did you hear that, Freddy-bottoms? You are going to have an entourage.”

“Exactly!” Harry said. “With all of us there, what could possibly go wrong?”

He kissed my head and then jogged back to the pitch and I felt a shiver start at my spine and ripple all the way through me. I refused to believe it was anything more than a response to the cold. Certainly, it was not my intuition warning me that things were about to go catawampus, or would that be dogawampus?