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Jesse showed me around his rented trailer, which took very little time. It had one bedroom and Murphy-bed-style fold-down tables and padded benches. He had brought Dog Face, Eeyore, and Lulu—a rambunctious puppy—with him. Unlike Valerie, Jesse was not only happy to see me but eagerly contributed to our discussion of the obstacle courses his dog would be running. There would be at least two separate courses: the Standard course, which has a pause table in which the dog must jump onto the platform and maintain contact with all four paws for five seconds, and the Jumps with Weaves course, which adds the weave poles and subtracts the table. A third course would be a Jump with Weaves course for finalists only.
Jesse and I had an easy interaction, both agreeing that the trouble areas for Dog Face could be: losing his focus as he exited the seesaw while running toward the audience, having to make a one-eighty turn toward the tunnel—his least favorite obstacle—and his having to weave through the posts so early in the course.
As I stood up at the end of our discussion, Jesse asked if he could get me anything—coffee, cold water, apple slices. He searched my eyes and seemed to be intentionally stalling. He reminded me of how my dogs often tried to engage me in something, anything, to distract me into not leaving the house without them.
“Is there something else on your mind, Jesse?” I asked.
“Not really. I was just wondering how Sophie Sophistica was doing.”
“During our practice sessions?”
“Yeah. I just....” He let his voice fade.
“It would be an enormous upset if she doesn’t win for the eight-inch-and-under category. As for overall, frankly, it’s just so hard for her to beat dogs in the twenty-inch jumps category, like Dog Face. That said, she always keeps her focus, and she always jumps clean. She’s going to be hard to beat. So will Dog Face.”
He gazed out the small window by the booth-style kitchen table where he remained sitting. “You know, Allie, I’ve been chewing on this same gritty, sour-tasting bone for a full year now. Changed my dog’s name. All because I had nothing whatsoever to do with him mating with Valerie’s Airedale. Lately I’ve realized it’s lucky I don’t happen to have any kids. I’d hate to be trying to teach them about how to be a goodhearted, responsible adult...focused on what really matters.”
He shifted his vision to me, and I gave him a sympathetic nod. Inwardly, I forced myself not to smile with gratitude. Thank goodness one of them was finally taking the highroad.
“I’ve been letting it get to me...lost all of my perspective. I did stupid things like trying to race over my dog’s teetertotter.” He gestured at his injured leg. “Meanwhile, maybe all that motivated Terrington’s killer was the same type of petty nonsense, which they magnified into a battle over their own self-image, or something.”
“I agree, Jesse. As my mom is forever telling me: choose your battles.”
“Yeah. That’s probably what makes her a good parent. That said, I’m glad Dog Face has the edge as the typical-winner size. I still hope my big dog crushes her little dog.”
I doubt my effort to hide my unhappy surprise at his non sequitur was successful. “Well, we’ll see how the first rounds go for both dogs today.”
“At least you don’t have to tell me to ‘break a leg.’”
“Such an excellent silver lining for us all,” I said with forced gaiety.
He laughed. “See you later,” he called as I left the trailer.
As I headed toward the main building, I saw Tracy Truitt standing in front of her car, which was pulled up to the curb in the no-parking zone. Bingley, meanwhile, was barking at her in the backseat window. The moment she spotted me, she waved and came toward me. “Let’s squeeze a last practice in with Bingley.”
“There isn’t enough time. The trials start in two hours. We’re not allowed to practice on the actual course. It’ll take us almost two hours roundtrip to Boulder and back.”
“I found a practice course that’s only ten minutes away. I got a guy who knows a guy here with a course in his backyard. He gave us permission to use it today.”
“Is this guy-of-yours-once-removed entering a dog in today’s trials?”
“No, his dog just didn’t get the hang of it, but the apparatuses turned out to be the hit of the neighborhood with his kids and their friends. He decided he didn’t want to tip the scales by letting some competitors use his nearby course and not others. But we’re wasting time. Let’s go.”
I got into the car. Bingley promptly leapt into my lap. “I feel like I’m playing hooky...cutting my classes.”
She pulled away from the curb while we both were buckling up. “That’s because you’re out of your natural environment.”
Surprised at her statement, I looked at her. “You think I don’t fit in at a place where I’m surrounded by dogs?”
“It’s not the dogs, Allie. It’s the people and the competition. You’re surrounded by people who want the other dogs to fail so their dogs can be victorious. That’s nothing like you.”
“But—” I hesitated. I’d been about to say that the vast majority of people were here for their love of all dogs. Something had gone massively wrong at this show. Something hateful and ruthless had come into play. “You’re right. It’s got to stop. This particular dog show isn’t operating in the right spirit.”
“That’s all I’m saying. But you and I are going to interject some good old-fashioned belly laughs into the competition. Thanks to my thick-headed Beagle.” She gave me a friendly jab on the shoulder. “Good for us!”
“Rah,” I said. I gave Bingley a hug. Bingley wasn’t thick-headed, of course. He was just resistant to having his trainer demand his attention.
As promised, we arrived at the “guy’s” house and were met by the friendly owner and his wife, who escorted us through the gate and into their quarter-acre yard. Their mixed breed and Bingley had a barking-fest that was cut short as the owners dragged their dog into the house and shut the back door. Tracy and I rearranged the apparatuses so that they approximated the course Bingley would face that afternoon in the Jumps with Weaves Novice trial.
Predictably, Bingley was all over the map during our session. He had, at least, gotten the gist of what was expected of him. He knew he was supposed to run with me the instant the judge—in this case Tracy—called, “Go,” and, in his best run, he completed about five of the jumps, although he lifted his leg on the tunnel, and popped out of every pole weave except the first and last.
Tracy drove up to the main building and let me out, explaining that she had some business to handle—which probably meant setting up logistics for her cameraman to record Bingley’s adventures in agility. Then again, Bingley was not entered in the Standard competition, and would be the first contestant in the Novice category, which, oddly, was scheduled to take place right before the Masters Finals. She also had to prepare for her talk show, which I think was going to be at one p.m. Or maybe at two. Either way, the subject matter was undoubtedly going to be the dog show and its murder investigation.
The moment I stepped inside the building, I spotted Cooper. He appeared to have been pacing back and forth near the front door. He gave me a big grin.
“There you are,” he said. “At long last, a friendly face.”
“I’m sorry to hear that’s taken you awhile to find.”
He matched my stride and we walked shoulder to shoulder toward Baxter’s office in the back. “It’s hardly a surprise. Almost everyone here probably wants me to be arrested, to get rid of any rumors about there being a dangerous killer in the area.”
I spotted Baxter up ahead and waved happily, then felt a pang of guilt for having left Cooper’s plaint unacknowledged. “I’m sure we all want the killer in jail.”
Baxter was heading toward us and greeted us, asking Cooper how he was doing.
“I’m too depressed to stay home by myself. My ex has my only companion...my dog.”
Baxter’s phone rang. “It’s Davis,” he said, looking at his screen. “Sorry. I’ve got to get this,” he said to me. He gave Cooper a sympathetic look. “Hope things improve.” He then strode away as he answered his phone.
I gave Cooper my full attention. Although he was wearing a nice blazer, his comb-over was unruly and he had dark circles under his eyes. “You look like you haven’t been sleeping.”
“Because I haven’t been. I just...I can’t believe this whole nightmare is really happening. You can’t prepare yourself for something like this. It’s like you’re in your living room for the hundred-thousandth time, and the entire ceiling suddenly drops on your head. I fell and broke my arm on a hike I’ve taken a dozen times. My car is stolen. Then I’m framed for a murder!”
“You think someone deliberately framed you?” I asked.
“Either that, or the Fates are using me as the bull’s eye in their dart game.”
“Cooper, are you absolutely certain you still want to handle some of the dogs in the conformation competitions?”
“Yes. One-hundred percent.”
“Do you remember the Bull Terrier, Waxy, you were going to handle? I think he’ll be happy for you to be his handler. And the owner of Scottie the Scottie has only spoken with me on the phone. You can definitely show him.”
Cooper smiled and grabbed his phone from his pocket. “Great. I’ll call Waxy’s owner right now and see. Hang on a moment, in case he needs to speak to you.”
He made the arrangements with ease, saying at the start he was standing next to me. Kiki would be less than delighted with me for surrendering two dogs to him, but then, she was never delighted with me, and the feeling was mutual. Furthermore, in my heart of hearts, I just couldn’t believe Cooper was guilty of murder. Or of stealing a diamond ring last year. He deserved a helping hand.
Cooper returned his phone to his pocket. “Do you have a few minutes, Allie? Can we stroll the grounds for a few minutes? I’d like people to see that I’m not a pariah to everyone.”
I glanced at my watch. My first formal task today would be to handle Dog Face. I still had well over an hour until we’d agreed to meet. “Sure. There’s a Labrador competition in the eastern outdoor ring. I’d like to get a look at them. I have to get my presentation get-up out of the car afterward.”
“Your ‘get-up’? What’s wrong with what you’re wearing now?”
“This is for my agility handling.” I was wearing a white silk blouse and nice-looking light-brown slacks—specifically chosen to hide dog fur better than most—and athletic shoes.” Valerie told me explicitly how I should dress for the conformation presentations.”
He grinned. “She did? Are you even showing any of her dogs?”
“No, she felt I could use her guidance, though. I’m showing a Poodle in the Toy category. Well, provided he wins the Toy Poodle division.”
He furrowed his brow. “Is this one of the dogs Terrington was going to handle?”
“Yeah.” I didn’t want him to ask if he could take my place. “My neighbor owns her. I want to improve our relationship.”
He held the door for me. We rounded the building wordlessly and headed toward the ring. The competition itself wasn’t for another couple of hours, but especially for outdoor presentations, breeders and owners of contestants tended to bring their own dogs to the general vicinity of the ring well in advance of the event.
“Are you thinking of getting another puppy?” Cooper asked.
“Not really. One of these days I’m going to be up for getting another dog. But when I do, I’ll get a rescue dog from a specific breed volunteer group or the Humane Shelter. I miss having Pavlov by my side. Much as love my little dogs.”
“A dog strong enough to defend you,” Cooper said with a nod. “After what I’ve been through, I think that’s wise.”
“You have a Huskie-mix, right?”
“Part-time. Ex and I trade off every two weeks. That’s why I was alone on the trail. My dog was with her.” He sighed. “I wish I could shake the feeling that things are going to get even worse for me.” He gave me a quick glance. “Valerie has me worried. We spotted each other several minutes ago. She gave me a haughty smile. As if she was triumphant.”
“We haven’t crossed paths here yet. You don’t think she was the one who framed you for the murder, do you?”
“I wouldn’t put it past her. She saw me and Terrington arguing in the café.”
Surprised, I stopped walking and looked at him. “I didn’t know Valerie was in the café, too.”
“She was getting a to-go order.”
I’d become familiar with the setup of the Brunswick Café during my police interview. Its counter was at the front of the restaurant, with a half wall partially separating it from the restaurant tables. It was possible Valerie could have overheard an argument at one of the front tables. The swinging doors to the kitchen were in the back hallway opposite the restrooms and adjacent to the back door.
“Valerie’s short, in her mid-sixties, and has bad knees,” I said. “I can’t picture her stabbing a six-foot tall, athletic man in the neck.”
“Neither can I. But it’s not impossible that she snuck into the kitchen and through the back door before I finally decided to try and resolve things peacefully with Terrington. In any case, she’s more than happy to poison everyone’s minds against me...before and after the murder.”
“Maybe, but, frankly, she’d much rather blame anything and everything on Jesse Valadez.”
“Except Jesse wasn’t in the restaurant. And the guy’s on crutches.”
The subject matter still begged the question: Was Jesse still using the crutches at noon on Wednesday, like he’d said? Unwilling to mention that concern to Cooper, I said, “They probably have security cameras by the back door of the restaurant.”
“You’d have thought so,” Cooper said. “But if they had security cameras on us, the police would have cleared me right away. They’d have seen that I hadn’t stabbed him. That I’d grabbed the knife just to try to stop the bleeding.”
“And they’d have seen the stabbing itself.”
Just then, I saw a woman walking a six-month-or-so Lab puppy. “Oh, look! There’s—”
Cooper grabbed my upper arm gently. “Allie, I know you’re a good person. I know that you’ve helped the police a couple of times. There was that feature article in the Daily Camera about your being the best combination sleuth and dog whisperer around.”
“That was a silly story,” I said. “It was a slow news day.”
“I have the feeling you can help me. I...need a rock. Or a sounding board. Something stable in my life.” He studied my features, once again looking desperate. “If things start going south for me...if the police arrest me, could you be my character reference?”
“I can tell the police that you’ve always struck me as a solid, dependable guy who cares about dogs and is gentle and helpful.”
“Thank you.” He smiled at me. “Could you also help me keep an eye on Mark and Marsala? I don’t want to make any wild accusations, but they’re the ones who were in the right place at the right time. They heard the argument between Terrington and me. I can’t help but think one or both of them realized I was the perfect patsy.”