Chapter 10

Pretending to misunderstand, I glanced over my shoulder as if looking for whom she might be speaking to. I probably overdid it just a smidgeon. When I turned back around, they were both staring at me—okay, glowering might be more accurate.

“Aren’t you the woman who took that corgi through the course this morning? The one that found Gerry’s body?” the taller of the two asked. She had dark hair and wore way too much makeup. Personally, I like makeup, as it makes my nonexistent eyebrows and lashes show up, but this woman had made her brows angry and her lipstick was a vibrant shade of purple not found in nature anywhere.

“That’s right,” I said. Then because I’m a jerk, I couldn’t resist bragging. “We’re in first place.”

“Not for long,” the shorter and curvier of the two said.

Since her dog had given up trying to defend itself and was slowly being mawed by the other woman’s dog, which was now in the chair with it, I didn’t really think it had the gumption to beat Freddy but I didn’t say as much. I merely glanced at the dogs and then back up.

“Good luck,” I said.

She glanced at the dogs and let out a frustrated sigh. “Julia, get Buck off my poor Archer, right now.”

The last part was said as a wail and I hurried away, not wanting to see what would happen if Buck refused to get off Archer. I didn’t think it would go well.

I was making my way across the room to poke my head out and see how the dogs who had competed had done—okay, yes, I was going to check that Freddy was still on the top of the leaderboard—when I saw Richard Freestone, three-time champion and person to Muffin the bulldog, talking to Liza Stanhope.

I tried to blend into the faded wallpaper with limited success. Primarily because the wallpaper was beige and I was wearing a bright blue coat, you know, because it brought out my eyes. Thankfully, the conversation between Freestone and Stanhope was looking intense and I didn’t think they’d notice me. I sidled closer, keeping my back to them and hoping they didn’t recognize my hair.

“I don’t care what Swendson said,” Freestone was saying. “Betty Wentworth was right. There was something off about the dog food that was distributed to the winners last year. It’s almost as if it was tainted for a reason.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Liza said.

“Don’t you?” he asked.

“Why would Swendson do that?” she asked. “Having all of the dog finalists get sick after the big show would defeat the purpose of all of the advertising Swendson does, wouldn’t it?”

“Unless he was desperate to get rid of the usual suspects,” Richard said. “I’m thinking of withdrawing Muffin from the competition.”

“Don’t you dare!” Liza hissed. “Muffin has a huge social media following. It could ruin the dog show if you withdraw. It’s bad enough we have Swendson’s death to contend with, if anything else goes wrong, the show might not recover. You have to stay in.”

“I don’t know. Betty was right—”

“She was not. She’s just a pathetic old woman who is bitter because her corgi hasn’t won,” Liza said. “She was making up lies to cause trouble.”

I felt my temper begin to heat. Aunt Betty didn’t lie and it took everything I had not to interrupt and curse at the vile Ms. Stanhope.

“Betty’s the same age as me, so thanks for that.” Richard’s voice was dry. I desperately wanted to turn around and see his face but I resisted the impulse. “Listen, Muffin will eat anything, literally anything, and she refused to eat the food that we won from last year’s competition. Also, I know about the lawsuit.”

Liza jumped as if he’d set off a bomb.

“Shush,” she hissed. “Not here.”

“Why not?” he asked. “What are you afraid of? It’s a bunch of people from last year’s show, suing Swendson for making their dogs sick. What does that have to do with PAWS?”

“Nothing, except Swendson is our biggest sponsor,” Liza snapped. “We’re trying to keep the lawsuit quiet. Personally, Swendson’s legal issues are not my problem but the bad publicity that comes with it is, so hush.”

“Aren’t you concerned that the people suing Swendson are former PAWS dog show competitors?” Richard pressed. “Aren’t you worried that one of them went rogue and got revenge on Gerry? Maybe you’re next. You should probably hire some more security.”

“Stop it. You’ll start a panic,” Liza said. “Just because you’ve won this competition for the past three years, Richard, doesn’t mean you have the right to advise me about how I run things.” She sounded furious.

“I have every right,” he said. “You have used my dog as the face of this show and I have gone along with it but I won’t continue, not if I find out that Swendson is harming the winning dogs with poor-quality food.”

“Stop that,” Liza said. “You know that Mary is in charge of the production of the food. She would never let anything but the best ingredients into the food. You know this.”

Richard sighed. “I do trust Mary, but something happened last year. Swendson needs to be investigated and since he’s dead and now you’re going to be staying on—”

“What did you say?” she asked. Her voice sounded wary.

“I’m sorry. I hate to be blunt, but I know about Swendson’s plan to replace you as the chairman of PAWS,” Richard said. “It was a vicious thing for him to do, to go after you like that. How long have you been running the dog show for charity? Fifteen? Twenty years?”

“Seventeen,” Liza said. Her voice sounded strained. “It was a hollow threat. Swendson felt that we needed to shake things up a bit. He wanted the light more on him as the sponsor and less on . . .”

“The winning dog,” Richard said. He shook his head. “What a narcissist.”

“Be that as it may,” Liza said. “He’s dead, whether by his own hand or someone else’s—”

“He did it to himself,” Richard said. He sounded awfully sure of himself. I wondered if he knew something.

“Then why was he found under the dais?” Liza asked.

“Who knows?” Richard shrugged. “The man clearly had issues. Trust me, the police will discover it was suicide.”

“As coldhearted as this sounds, I hope you’re right,” Liza said. “For the sake of us all.” She gave him a sharp look and strode off.

I started to slip away but Richard’s voice stopped me. “How is Betty?”

I thought about pretending I didn’t hear him. There was enough background noise in this room that I could have gotten away with it but I was curious as to what he knew so I did a slow turn instead.

“Betty is fine,” I said. “She’s here, in fact. Out in the arena, watching Freddy’s competition.”

“Of course she is.” Richard smiled and I noticed he looked younger when he did so. I had thought he had at least ten years on Betty but having heard him say they were the same age, now I could see it.

I studied his face. “You like her.”

He lifted one eyebrow. “I find her to be a worthy opponent.”

“And you like her.”

“I do like pretty things, and Betty is certainly that,” he said. He glanced down at his dog and then back up. His expression was chagrined. “She’s the reason I enter the competitions.”

My eyes went wide. Okay, I totally hadn’t expected that. He smiled, obviously pleased to have caught me off guard.

“That’s the irony, isn’t it?” he asked. “I don’t even care if we win. In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s working against me with Betty.”

“It is.” I nodded.

He laughed. “I entered the first time just to spend some time with Betty. We met at our veterinarian’s office. Did you know?”

I shook my head. This was brand-new information.

“Betty is the one who talked me into entering the dog show. Turns out Muffin is a fierce competitor.” He shrugged. “It all snowballed from there. I’d been posting online about Muffin since she was a pup. She has a lot of personality.”

I glanced down at the bulldog. She wagged her head and her jowls shook and spit flew. It was hard for me to believe that was more endearing than Freddy’s heart-shaped bum. Then Muffin looked up at me and I swear she smiled. Okay, I got it. She was a drooly charmer.

“But when we won the first dog show, her popularity went global. The next thing I knew Betty had declared me the enemy and there went any chance I had of asking her out.”

“But you kept competing,” I said.

“I figured she and Freddy had to win one of these days.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” I said, “I don’t think she’s immune to you either.” What I did not say was that I was pretty sure Aunt Betty would have happily stepped right over his maimed body to get to the winner’s circle with the trophy.

“Oh, I know that,” he said. “Unfortunately, I think it’s a hostile regard that I can’t seem to charm out of her.”

“Richard Freestone and Muffin!” one of the volunteers called from the front of the room.

“You’re up,” I said. “Break a leg.”

He gave me a look that said I was daft and I cringed.

“Sorry, I was thinking in American theater talk, you know, because of the superstition against saying ‘good luck’ to a performer.”

“Ah,” he said. He gave me a small smile. “This is a bit of a spectacle. I can understand the confusion.”

With a small wave, he and Muffin trotted off toward the door.

I waited a bit before I followed. Yes, I admit it. I wanted to see how a three-time reigning champion attacked the course.

The first person I saw when I slipped into the arena was Andre. He was adjusting a camera on a tripod that he had focused on the equipment. I bet he was getting some spectacular shots of the dogs. I didn’t want to interrupt, so I stayed back so as not to distract him.

Richard and Muffin hit the course like a force of nature. Much like Freddy, Muffin knew exactly what to do. She hit all the tricks, bending and twisting on her feet, never losing a second. When she broke into a run for the finish line, I had one eye on her and one on the clock, hoping Freddy’s time would hold.

Richard was right beside her as they crossed over and the crowd went wild. I scanned the crowd for a glimpse of Harry’s face. He was staring at me, looking wide-eyed and nervous. Aunt Betty was just down the row from him. Her hands were clasped in front of her as if she was praying very hard. And then Muffin’s time came up. She was two-tenths of a second off Freddy’s time. He retained the lead.

I let out a whoop, which I immediately tried to stifle by clapping a hand over my mouth. Instead, I stamped my feet, feeling the need to let the emotion out. I met Harry’s gaze and he grinned, clearly delighted. Aunt Betty had risen from her seat and was doing some sort of dance that looked like a very bad “Gangnam Style.” I gestured to Harry that he needed to nip that.

He gave me a quick nod and started to make his way to Aunt Betty. I wondered if I should go back to the competitors’ room and see if I could learn anything else. I couldn’t imagine that I would.

Honestly, finding out that Richard had a thing for Betty was probably the most interesting tidbit, even though I had no intention of telling her. If Richard wanted to make a move, it was up to him. I wasn’t about to help him, especially during a competition when Aunt Betty, and by association Freddy, could be thrown off by such a declaration.

Also, there was the info that Swendson had been trying to get Liza removed from the board. I wasn’t sure what I would do with it, but if Liza continued to make things difficult for Freddy, I might have to mention it to the powers that be.

I watched the rest of the competition but it was clear that so far the big crystal bowl of kibble was going to be won by Freddy or Muffin. Henry was an outlier who stood a chance but the rest of the dogs seemed way out of their league. Yes, of course, I was totally biased but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t true.

By the time the competition ended, I was sagging against Harrison as we walked to his car, which was parked in a small lot down the street. The day’s events had been utterly exhausting and I couldn’t wait to be tucked up in my bed with my book. I needed something to take me completely out of my present mental state and the historical mystery I was presently reading, C. S. Harris’s Sebastian St. Cyr series, was just the ticket. It would be hard to retain my current level of anxiety if I was kicking butt and taking names in Victorian London.

As Harry ushered us down the sidewalk, he whispered in my ear, “My place tonight?”

“I would,” I said, “but I have to be back here bright and early with Freddy for part two of the competition. Apparently, tomorrow is the obedience portion and then there’s a parade.”

“Yes, it’s just fabulous,” Aunt Betty cut in. “The obedience segment is not nearly as exhausting as the agility tests, but you do have to have him answer your commands. And as for the parade around Finchley Park, you simply have to wear the hats Viv made. You and Freddy will look amazing, but it’s very important that he not get off task, so you’ll have to be wary of rats, snakes and anything else your competition can throw at you.”

“Like, literally throw at me?” I asked. I tucked my chin in and looked at her from beneath my brow. “Why wasn’t this mentioned to me before?”

“Don’t worry,” she said. She patted my hand. “Only humans have died while competing in PAWS.”

“Humans plural?” I asked. We reached Harry’s car and he opened the front passenger door, waiting for Aunt Betty to climb in.

“Well, if you include Gerry Swendson, yes, there’ve been two,” she said.

I did not find this reassuring. I knew I shouldn’t ask but I did anyway. “How did the other person die?”

“It was a freak accident when they were crossing through the park in the parade,” she said. “A car jumped the curb and ran the person over. The dog was heartbroken and had to be taken out of the competition, naturally.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Three years ago. The very first year Freddy and I competed,” she said. “The dog, Annie, a beautiful brindle, was a sure thing, too. So sad. I heard she went to live out her days with a family friend in Devon, but she never competed again. You know, I used to just come and watch the shows, never dreaming that I would one day be entered, but now here I am and Freddy is a contender. Dreams can come true.”

I glanced at Harry. Yes, they could, I thought. The return smile he sent my way made my heart kick up a notch and I was almost tempted to ditch my book for him, but I was exhausted and I did not want to be accused of neglecting my fictional boyfriend St. Cyr.

“Shall we meet at Finchley Park at eight o’clock in the morning?” I asked. “You can drill me on the obedience commands.”

“No. Aunt Betty, Freddy and I will come collect you at the shop,” Harry said. “I think until we know exactly what happened to Swendson, it’s best if we stay in a group.”

“I think you mean a pack,” I said. “A dog pack. And just so we’re all clear, I’m the alpha.”

“Of course you are, love,” Harry said. He kissed me on the head, not giving me a chance to see if he was being sarcastic or not.

“But I do agree. We need to remain vigilant, especially since Freddy remains in the lead,” I said. “You never know who might want to change that by any means possible.”

“You’re not selling me on the idea of keeping you in the competition, Ginger,” Harry said.

“Sorry.”

“Oh, don’t you worry,” Aunt Betty said. “This girl can handle herself. No worries.”

I grinned. I wondered why Aunt Betty had never married. She was cute and funny and clearly had a lot of love to give. I wondered, again, if I should mention Richard Freestone’s interest in her. For some reason, I was hesitant, which was extraordinary because I am something of a meddler; just ask Viv about Alistair. But perhaps it was because I didn’t know Aunt Betty or Richard Freestone as well as I knew Viv and Alistair. I’d wait until the end of the competition and see.

When Freddy handed Muffin her first loss, I’d have a better idea what sort of man Richard Freestone was and then we could ascertain if there was something worth pursuing.

---

*   *   *

“Are you sure he knows what ‘sit’ means?” I asked.

We were standing in Finchley Park, freezing in the bitter morning cold, while Freddy, who appeared to have woken up on the cranky side of surly, stood staring at me with the look of a toddler who was willfully ignoring everyone around him.

“Of course he does,” Aunt Betty said. “He just doesn’t like the cold.”

“That makes two of us,” I said. I shivered in my wool coat. I couldn’t feel the end of my nose and my toes were rapidly losing feeling as well.

Harry had gone inside the building to see if there’d been any news about Swendson, but he hadn’t returned.

“Freddy, you are being a very naughty boy,” Aunt Betty said. Freddy turned his head away as if he didn’t want to hear it. The canine equivalent of a teenage eye roll.

“Let’s go in,” I said. “Maybe it’s just too cold out here for him to think. I know it’s too cold for me.”

Aunt Betty glanced between us and then nodded. She took his leash and led him toward the building and I fell into step beside her.

We were about twenty yards away when the doors were thrust open and Harrison came charging out. Beside him was DI Bronson. Neither of them looked happy, but Harry looked less so. Oh, dear.

“Ms. Wentworth,” Bronson said at the same time Harry called, “Aunt Betty!”

Instinctively, I moved closer to Aunt Betty.

“Yes, what is it?” Aunt Betty glanced between them.

“Alistair is on his way,” Harrison said.

“I’d like to ask you a few questions,” Bronson said at the same time.

Aunt Betty stopped walking. She looked up at me and said, “Do you mind, dear?”

She handed me Freddy’s leash.

“No, not at all,” I said.

She stiffened her spine and said, “I’m happy to answer any questions you have, Detective Inspector.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“After Alistair gets here,” Harry insisted.

“No, now,” Aunt Betty said. “Scarlett and Freddy are competing soon and I’m not going to miss it.”

“Speaking of which, could we go inside?” I asked. “I’m frozen.”

“Of course,” Bronson agreed. “We’ll head right to the office.”

He led the way and Betty followed him. I shrugged at Harry while Freddy tugged on his leash until he was right beside Betty. I did admire his loyalty.

Harry frowned and pulled out his phone. He thumbed a contact that I knew would be Alistair. I could hear him grumbling into his phone as we followed. The hall was still mostly empty but volunteers were setting up the judges’ table and the small arena where the obedience portion would take place.

There was an air of expectation about the place, which was odd given that the owner of the sponsoring company had been found dead just yesterday. I would have thought there’d have been a pall over the event, but no. I wondered how liked Gerry Swendson was. I was guessing not very. How sad. All that money and success and yet no one really mourned him.

Once in the office, Bronson gestured to a chair and Aunt Betty sat down. I took the vacant seat beside her while Freddy sat between our feet. Harry had ended his call and was pacing.

“I really think you should wait for Alistair, Aunt Betty,” he said.

“No need,” she said. “I’m sure Detective Inspector Bronson is just going to ask me about the poison that killed Gerry Swendson.”

We all froze. The clock ticking on the wall behind Bronson was the loudest sound in the room.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Wentworth, did you say ‘poison’?” Bronson asked.

“Yes.” Aunt Betty met his gaze as if it were the most natural thing in the world to know the cause of death without being a medical examiner.

Bronson blinked. “How did you know he was poisoned?”