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I had been pacing as I spoke and heard raised voices. They seemed to be coming from the grooming room. I pocketed my cellphone and headed into the room. “Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod,” a woman was saying. Judging by the light-blue smock she wore over her clothing, she was a groomer. As I drew closer, I realized it was a white Poodle that had a neon-pink splotch on its fur. An instant later, I spotted Eleanor staring at the Poodle.
“No-o-o-o,” she wailed, all but driven to her knees at the sight. “Minnie Pepper Cocoa!”
I ran to the grooming station. “How did this happen?” I cried.
A moment later I saw the groomer set down a spray can she’d been examining. The label pictured a white Standard Poodle. Someone had disguised the can, so the groomer had sprayed hot pink permanent paint on Pepper’s coat.
“I’ll kill you for this!” Eleanor yelled in the poor groomer’s face.
She raised her hands and pleaded, “I had no way to know it was pink paint. Somebody swapped my spray can of powder with paint.”
Eleanor started crying. She saw me standing there, a couple of feet away, and her jaw dropped. “You did this, didn’t you?”
“Me? Of course not!”
“Then your boyfriend did it. I thought you were nice! I thought I’d been wrong about you two. But you’re horrible people.”
“What’s happened?” Baxter said, rushing into the room.
“You did this to my dog!” Eleanor cried.
“No, I didn’t. Why would I want to ruin a dog’s coat?”
“You and your girlfriend are the only ones with any motive to try and punish me like this! You’re determined to get back at me for the lawsuit on your stupid dog-boarding business!”
A crowd was forming around us, and someone in the back shoved forward. It was Valerie, and she looked fit to be tied. She marched up to Eleanor. “Miss whoever-you-are,” Valerie said in a harrowing low voice, “you’re frightening all the dogs. I assure you, this paint was intended for my Westie, not your poodle.”
“What?” Eleanor asked.
Valerie walked over to the grooming station and grabbed a clipboard holding a spreadsheet. “Look at the schedule.” She held out the spreadsheet and pointed at one of the rectangular cells. “This slot here was supposed to go to my Westland Terrier. It’s been crossed out, and your Minnie...something or other is written in its place. You see?”
Eleanor had stopped crying, but her eyes looked fierce. “I see that. I got the slot instead. So?”
“So, I withdrew my dog just this morning and allowed the slot to go to your little dog, out of the kindness of my heart. I assure you, you were not the target. I was. Because, you’re right. This was a targeted, hateful crime for the white dog in this time slot. Ask around. Nobody knows you or your dog. But everyone knows me and my championship lines of terriers. Everybody.”
It took a moment or two for Eleanor to react. Then she grimaced and turned to face Baxter and me. “I...don’t know what to say.”
“In a million years, Baxter and I would never have pulled a stunt like this.”
“Which begs the question...who did this?” Valerie asked.
I looked at the crowd and had to stop myself from groaning when I spotted Jesse. Sure enough, Valerie glowered at him. “You’re the logical suspect!”
Jesse held up his palms. “Obviously I didn’t do this. We’ve been arguing the entire time I’ve been in this room.”
“You could have planted the paint can there at any time before then.” She balled her fists. “You’ve had it out for me since I accused you of intentionally conspiring to breed our dogs.”
“Which I had nothing to do with and was entirely your responsibility for bringing a dog in heat!” he said.
“And maybe you’re right. Maybe somebody else paid off my former employee just to clear the way for winning this year. But you’ve made my life miserable ever since. Once again, it backfired. Once again someone got hurt! This time you’ve painted an innocent little Poodle bright pink!”
“My Minnie Pepper Cocoa will be pink for months!”
“Where did you get such a weird name?” Valerie asked. “Did you ask this guy for name suggestions?” She pointed over her shoulder disdainfully with her thumb at Jesse.
“My daughter,” Eleanor answered quietly, her voice choked with emotion. “We got the dog for her. Before she died. Leukemia.”
“Your child died, too?” I asked, unable to even conceive of that much grief doled out to the same person in less than three years. And now she was divorced. Living in a newly built house by herself.
Valerie and Jesse looked at each other. Their anger instantly dissipated. “Do you have any specialized dog shampoo here?” Jesse asked Valerie.
“No, I—”
“I’ve got some in my trailer. It’s first rate. From France. So, it’s probably even made specifically for French Poodles.”
“Right. Let’s get on this, people!” Valerie snapped her fingers at the groomer, still standing by her table in shock. “You there. Go with Jesse to his trailer and get back here immediately. I’ll get the dog’s fur wetted down. The longer it’s on his fur, the longer it can sink in.”
Valerie and Eleanor stared at the dog as if in shock as Valerie grabbed Minnie Pepper Cocoa and started gently shampooing her. The groomer, too, gradually regained her color. “It’s coming out,” she said. “Maybe it isn’t permanent paint after all. There’s still going to be a tinge of pink today,”
“Nothing that a dab of whitener and Milk of Magnesia can’t cure,” Valerie said.
“I assume you left your station unattended for lunch, right?” Baxter asked the groomer.
“Well, yeah, but I thought I had everything locked up. And it was unlocked when I got back. I just...I thought I must have forgotten to lock up my station, is all.”
Jesse tired of waiting for the groomer and did his best to rush despite his cast. Baxter peered at the padlock. “The lock’s been tampered with,” Baxter said. “The catch has been filled in with some sort of clear acrylic. It won’t actually lock when you push it shut. I’d better talk to security. Maybe someone saw it.”
I looked at a second groomer station that was still locked up. I pulled on its brass padlock. It remained locked tight. I glanced at a third station. They all had the same brass padlocks with keys that the groomers could take with them when they were on a break. Someone could have doctored a lock at home, then swapped locks at some point before the key had been removed.
I walked up to Valerie. “Can I help?”
“You can fill another bin with warm water.”
I nodded. As I was readying Pepper’s bath water, I heard two sets of frantic and furious growls and a shriek of pain. A dog fight had broken out. I grabbed the square bucket out of the sink and headed toward the ruckus.
“Get him away!” one woman was yelling.
Two Cocker Spaniels were going at it. The dogs had no collars on and were snapping at each other. Although the owners were trying to pull them apart, their actions were futile.
“Oh my God! Separate them! Stop this!” the other, older woman yelled.
“Gwenie!”
“Apple!”
“Get back!” I cried. The owners let go of the dogs and straightened. I dowsed the tussling dogs, which both yelped in surprise. I grabbed the closest one, quickly pivoting so the other one could only see my back.
“Let me take her,” the sixtyish woman demanded.
I relinquished my hold, and she swept the dog into her arms. The front of my blouse was now soaked. This dog had a white and brown coat, and there were some red stains on the white fur around her mouth. It didn’t seem like the dog was bleeding, though.
“Apple!” the other woman cried, gathering up the buff-colored dog. “Are you okay?” She gasped. “There’s blood on the floor! Her paw is bleeding!”
Apple was clambering to escape from her owner’s grasp. There was a torn-up plastic sandwich bag on the floor, which had red liquid in it along with what looked like chunks of raw hamburger.
“My Gwenie has blood on her, too. Get your dog out of here!”
“No, you get your dog out of here!” Apple’s owner shouted.
Meanwhile, I snatched up the little plastic bag. “The dogs were fighting over ground beef that someone must have dropped. And it’s just the red juice that forms with red meat.”
“Meaning blood!”
“No, the red liquid in ground beef isn’t blood. It’s water mixed with a protein that turns the water red. Look it up on your smartphone if you don’t believe me.”
Kiki arrived, her tablet in hand, no doubt having learned about the paint-on-Pepper incident. “What’s going on here?”
“A pair of Cockers got into a fight. I stopped it by pouring lukewarm water on them.”
I saw that Baxter was heading toward us, as well. I gave him an “Okay” sign, but he continued on his path.
“Someone must have dropped a baggie with hamburger in it, and the two dogs each tried to fend the other off.”
“Right,” the elderly woman said. “That was my Gwenie’s treat. I have her on a raw-food diet. She was simply defending what was hers. So this—” she flicked her wrist in the buff-colored Cocker’s direction “—Apple dog was in the wrong for trying to steal her food.”
“Wow!” Apple’s owner said, stamping her foot and causing some of the pooling water to splash up. “That’s as biased a reaction as you can get! Obviously, you are at fault for dropping your damned hamburger on the floor!”
“But you’re the one who couldn’t control—”
“Stop arguing!” Kiki shouted. “I’ll have Allida here dump another bucket of water on you!”
Both women stared at her, stunned.
“I’ll have the vet examine both dogs,” Kiki declared, “and you’ll split the fees down the middle. If either or both of you want to withdraw, it’s too late for you to get a refund. But that is up to you.”
Baxter arrived and stood by my side. “I have a call into Maintenance for a cleanup. Is everything okay?”
“I think so,” I answered.
“Gwenie doesn’t need a vet,” her owner said to Kiki over Baxter’s and my brief exchange. “She just needs another grooming. Now that her chin has...red liquid on it.”
“Apple just needs her paws cleaned. It’s not fair, but I’ll handle that cost myself.”
“Plus, both dogs need to be blow-dried.”
Kiki was clicking her fingers at a man with a mop and bucket. She pointed at the puddle.
“Did these dogs get paint on their fur, too?” Baxter asked.
“And that’s another thing!” Gwenie’s owner eyed Baxter’s name badge. “Your employee could have seriously injured both dogs by dumping water on them like that.”
“You’re lucky she knew how to end a dog fight without either dog injuring the other,” Baxter said.
“He’s right,” Kiki added. “Have either of you thought to thank her for doing that?”
“Well. That’s true. She did bring the fight to an abrupt stop.” She looked over at the maintenance man who was making short work of soaking up the water. “But still, somebody could have slipped in the puddle of water she left.”
Jesse arrived, panting with effort as he put the shampoo on the groomer’s counter.
“Did these dogs get paint on their fur, too?” Baxter asked me.
“Paint?” Apple’s owner repeated. “You’re not talking about paint on a dog’s fur, are you?”
“She sure is,” Gwenie’s owner interjected. “Some poor woman’s Poodle got spray painted hot pink.”
“You’re kidding!”
“No, I’m not. That’s what had me so distracted that I forgot all about my little Gwenie not having her collar on while I was brushing out her coat. I was afraid there was some kind of a graffiti artist gone bonkers in here...spray painting light-colored dogs.”
“I can only imagine. I’d have been distracted, too.” She gave Apple a hug, continuing to hold her. “I was doing a little off-leash practicing with Apple. Her fur is practically white. Then this man here goes running past me with another man limping after him. That’s what set my Apple off. She saw your precious Gwenie, and I think they were both so unsettled, they misbehaved.”
“You’re probably right. It was the staff’s fault. They shouldn’t have been running, and they shouldn’t have allowed anyone in here with spray paint.”
Kiki groaned. “Look. I’m writing all of these incidents up. But I saw for myself that Baxter was not running, he was simply walking briskly. And both of you were at fault for not minding your dogs and for having them both off-leash.”
“That is most unfair of you, young lady,” Gwenie’s owner said, lifting her chin. “None of this would have happened if it hadn’t been for all the chaos caused by the staff.”
“Right,” Apple’s owner declared. “We Cocker Spaniel owners need to stick together. Our dogs’ popularity is waning because they’re getting such a bad and unfair reputation.”
“I agree,” I said. “I have a Cocker Spaniel. I love the breed. And Baxter and I own two King Charles Cavaliers, as well.”
The women’s eyes widened. “You do?” Apple Owner said. “That’s so good to hear.”
“Well, then. We all need to stick together.” She held out her hand. “My name’s Theodora.”
We shook hands. “I’m Allie. My Cocker’s name is Doppler.”
“I’m Ashleigh,” Apple’s owner said. “This was all just a big misunderstanding,” she said to Kiki. “You don’t have to write up anything on our accounts. Not if it’s going to get a Cocker owner in trouble.”
“Or contribute to the inane belief that Cockers are feisty and nippy and barky,” Theodora added.
“Absolutely. It’s not the dogs themselves that tainted their reputations.”
“No. It’s the irresponsible Cocker owners.”
“Because they’re just so darned cute, they aren’t properly trained.”
For one moment, I considered passing them my card to see if they wanted my services. The next moment, I came to my senses. “I’m going to change my clothes.”
“My office is unlocked,” Baxter suggested. “I’m going to talk to the groomer and Eleanor. See if I can do some damage control.”
“Speaking of which, did you find out anything more about the drugging?”
“‘Fraid not,” he answered. “A security officer and I watched the video three times We can’t come close to identifying or ruling out suspects. That kiosk had a snarl of foot traffic for several minutes while it was raining. The camera angle made it impossible to see the bowl over the attendees’ heads and shoulders. Then Kiki watched it and says she’s making the executive decision that, since only Toy dogs would be affected, only those owners and their handlers are going to be notified. Plus that judge.”
Baxter started to turn toward the grooming station.
“Maybe I should come with you as you talk with Eleanor.”
“I almost forgot,” Kiki suddenly chimed in, suddenly standing right behind me. I was startled. I hadn’t realized she was listening in on us. “My dad said he wants to talk to Allida for a minute.”
“He does?” I said, surprised and annoyed that she’d addressed Baxter instead of me. “Why?”
“Something about the Toy competition,” Kiki replied.
“All right. I guess I’ll go speak to Davis, then.”
“Yeah, thanks. Sorry I forgot about that. With all the histrionics.”
“I appreciated how you ended the women’s bickering,” I told her honestly.
“At one point in my career, I was a kindergarten teacher. Comes in handy sometimes.”