Terrier Terror, page 10
Again, Kiki made a face as if she couldn’t believe how misguided I was. “Cooper was never showing a Wheaton, Allida. He was showing the Bull Terrier, Waxy, Scottie the Scottie, and an Airedale named Eeyore. That’s it. You have Wheatons on the brain.”
She pivoted on her two-inch heel and walked away. At least she’d made it clear that she truly was trying to antagonize me. Which also made it clear that I’d rather not give her the pleasure of getting a rise out of me.
As I rounded Tracy’s corner lot in north Boulder, I saw that she had at least gotten the agility apparatuses that she’d borrowed from us placed in her back yard. She heard me drive up and came out to greet me, Bingley tucked under her arm like a rolled-up newspaper.
“Finally!” Tracy grumbled. “I know you have the murder and everything to deal with, but I really thought you’d be spending more time training than this!”
“Have you been doing the training exercises like I asked?”
“Well, yeah, but not happily.”
“He needs as much repetition as he can possibly get,” I pointed out. “And training a dog more than two hours at a stretch is counter-productive.”
“So is having his trainer ignore him. Plus, I thought you were having financial problems. Happiness can’t buy money, you know.”
“And old tricks can’t teach a new dog.”
Tracy pursed her lips. “I ran out of stupid sayings. Please just give me a really good two hours. Both of you. I need the grins.”
“Rough day at the radio station?”
“Yeah. The Fort Collins police won’t talk to me. They say I try to sensationalize every news story I get.”
“That’s true, isn’t it?”
“Well, sure. Nobody in the media searches out boring content for their broadcasts.” Her eyes lit up. “Which reminds me. Did you hear the latest rumor about Terrington Leach?”
“That he’d been dating my neighbor Eleanor?”
“Is that the lady with the cat?”
“Plus a Toy Poodle she had signed on with Terrington as his handler.”
“Oh, goody! Is she a suspect in the murder?”
“I don’t think so.” An annoying possibility occurred to me. “Were you playing me just now? Tricking me into giving you a tip about the investigation? Or did you actually have a juicy rumor about Terrington to share?”
“Meh. I’d say fifty-fifty. I did hear that Terrington and Kiki had been a couple at one time, and it ended badly.”
I’d never heard that, although it didn’t surprise me. I nodded, determined not to reward her with even more information about Terrington. “I heard that, too,” I fibbed.
“They were in the immediate area, weren’t they?” Tracy asked. “And either Eleanor or Kiki could have felt so betrayed by him that they had a motive.”
“I guess that’s always possible.” Especially with regard to Kiki, because she was indeed in the immediate vicinity of the murder scene. Definitely not something I would tell Tracy, who would be broadcasting that tidbit with abandon in tomorrow’s show. “I can’t have a regular conversation about this with you, Tracy. I don’t want my opinions about the show to hit the airwaves.”
“But I’m not saying anything that’s going to take audiences away from the show. My own dog’s going to be performing there. I want the show to be a huge success.” She set Bingley down and snapped a leash onto his collar. “I’m not about to tell my listeners: ‘Hey, guys! Watch out! There’s a killer on the loose in the Fort Collins Fairgrounds.’”
“Good to hear.” I grabbed Bingley’s leash. “Bingley and I are going to get a great two-hour workout on the obstacle course now.”
An hour later, I had done a lot more running than the dog. He was better on weaving through the posts than I had any right to expect. That is usually the hardest obstacle because it requires dogs to move in unnatural, counterintuitive ways. I did get him to jump over the rails. He would not enter the tunnel, regardless of what I did. At one point, I got so frustrated I put him in the tunnel then lifted that end and tried to slide him through and dump him out. The material was too flexible for that, so I tried to pull it out from under him like a magician pulling a tablecloth out from under a set of dishes and glasses. He was too good at running along with the moving tunnel. Same story on the bridge and seesaw.
The biggest problem with all of that was that when he was competing, I couldn’t touch the dog or the equipment. If he repeated this behavior in the ring, it wasn’t going to be entertaining; it was just going to be a few minutes of a dog lying down in an agility course until I carried him off. Desperate times requiring desperate measures, I called Valerie and asked if I could please bring Bingley to her house and let Bingley watch Sophie and follow her around the course once afterward. As I anticipated, she said no to the latter; she didn’t want another dog to “teach Sophie bad habits.” While she would allow him to watch Sophie and use the course by himself afterward, she told me to bring someone to control the Beagle while Sophie and I were occupied with the agility course; she was not about to pay an employee to assume that task, and she had better things to do than watch a Beagle mess up. Baxter was, of course, busy in Fort Collins. The only viable option was to ask Tracy to come with me to watch my final training session with Sophie Sophistica.
During our drive to Valerie’s ranch in my Toyota Corolla, I told Tracy that Valerie might respond to flattery on her part, which could perhaps persuade her to grant us the opportunity to have Bingley chase Sophie around the obstacle course. I assured Tracy that such a thing would be immensely helpful with Bingley’s learning curve, which, if anything, was upside down.
“Great idea!” Tracy said to me, then spent the trip with her eyes glued to her cellphone. Bingley, meanwhile, spent the trip jumping back and forth over the seatbacks, tunneling under the seats, and doing an amazing military crawl on his elbows, squeezing himself on the shelf behind the back seat and the rear window. I had no doubt that if there were weaving posts attached to a seesaw on my floorboards, he would also be weaving while teetertottering with breathtaking ease.
We arrived at Valerie’s home, and she answered the door. Sophie was sitting beside her in the doorway, her tail wagging furiously. Tracy was holding Bingley in her arms, in order to delay Valerie discovering how poorly trained he was on leash.
“I’m Tracy Truitt,” she said before I’d had the chance to make introductions. “It’s such an honor to meet you. I’ve got two friends who bought puppies from you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such perfection on four paws before.”
Valerie beamed. “How nice of you to say so. What are the dogs’ and owners’ names?”
“Aaron and Susan Fleischer, with the esteemed little Barron Chastwick. Also Deborah and George Bering, the proud owners of Melrose Esther.”
“Two of my champions! The Fleischers live in Denver, and the Berings live in Grand Junction. How did you meet them?”
“Through my job as a talk show radio host. That’s how I met Allie and developed such a deep affection for dogs myself. She’s has such an uncanny expertise on dog behavior. As do you. It’s no wonder you were smart enough to hire her.”
Valerie glanced at me, then beamed at Tracy. “This was actually my first occasion to need a trainer’s assistance since I was a teenager. My knee has slowed me down too much to handle the agility trial work.”
“Ugh. I know just what you’re going through. I had to have surgery on my knee not too long ago. A softball injury. Forgive me if I’m being too forward, but can you possibly join us while Allie works with Sophie Sophistica, and Bingley and I watch? I’d love to hear any insight you can give me.”
“Of course. We’ll meet you at the back door. Allie can lead the way.” She glanced behind her, still grinning. “Let me just get Sophie’s leash.” She slapped her thigh, and Sophie obeyed and trotted alongside her.
Tracy winked at me as she set Bingley down. The dog tried to race away, but the leash thwarted him. I then led the way to the red-slate path to the back yard. “You were reading up on Valerie as we drove out here, I see.”
“I know how to do research, girl. Furthermore, ‘Obsequious’ is my middle name.”
“Really? I would have thought it would be ‘Assertive’,” I teased.
“It should have been, but then some jerk at City Hall would have shortened that particular name to ‘Ass.’”
“Well, then. Wise compromise, Ms. Tracy Obsequious Truitt. I’ll just call you ‘Tot’ from now on.”
A minute or two later, Tracy and Valerie were chattering away like the best of friends, and the dogs scoped each other out as we made our way inside the barn and surveyed her arena. Valerie had brought her stopwatch. Midway through our hour-long session, she acted as a proxy for the judge—standing in front of one of the obstacles’ entry point. After two more practice runs, Valerie invited Tracy and Bingley down from their seats in the stands to watch Sophie from inside the ring. Tracy sat on the ground with Bingley in front of her, gripping Sophie’s collar with both hands. He started whining, trying to join Sophie, which was an excellent sign.
Sophie flew through the course. As we crossed the finish line and turned to face them, Valerie did a doubletake at her watch.
“Great run, eh?” I asked Valerie.
“Quite nice, yes.” She slipped the watch back into her pocket. “You know, I feel fine with letting Bingley follow Sophie in some just-for-grins runs. I’m now reasonably confident that doing so won’t throw her off her game. It might be fun for her, too.”
“That’s wonderful, Valerie,” I said, truly happy about this. Allowing an experienced dog to help teach an inexperienced dog was an excellent training technique. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome. Don’t forget our appointment tomorrow morning, when Kiki Miller sends all of the agility competitors a map of the course layout.”
“Eight o’clock, right?”
“Better make it seven. Unless that’s going to conflict with your meeting with Jesse.”
“No, I’m meeting Jesse later. He’ll be staying onsite in his trailer starting tonight.”
Valerie snorted. “As if being holed up in a trailer for three days is better than making a forty-minute drive from home. And he was so eager to get a good space, he had to pay for the lot starting on Tuesday, when he isn’t even using his trailer. It’s absolutely inane, if you ask me.”
I held my tongue, thinking what a strange figure of speech “if you ask me” was; it was only appropriate to say when you hadn’t asked, which logically means you don’t want the speaker’s opinion.
Tracy strode up to Valerie. “Thanks a million! Bingley entering the agility competition is merely a publicity stunt. I twisted Allie’s arm into doing it. I think it will really help the attendance by publicizing my attempts to get Bingley working an agility course at the show. I have contacts with the local TV news shows.”
“I don’t know if I agree that it will increase attendance. But I suppose we truly could use a good story on the Fort Collins Dog Show. Considering it’s now all about Terrington Leach’s murder.”
“Right. Time to shift the focus away from the search for the killer.”
Valerie snorted. “Oh, I heard from the police chief’s wife that he’s already convinced Cooper Hayes is guilty. They just need to keep making a good show that they’re still investigating other leads.” Her brow was furrowed. She’d returned to her typical prickly mood. “Let’s just get this over with, shall we?” She looked at her wrist watch. “I’ve got things to do. You have free run of the course and my little future champion for thirty minutes. Then bring her back to the house.”
“Thanks again,” Tracy said, her smile now less confident.
“Don’t mention it. Nice meeting you.”
“You, too,” Tracy replied.
We watched her walk away. “I said way too much, didn’t I?” Tracy whispered.
“She’s always moody. Let’s just make the most of our time.” I removed Bingley’s collar. “You guys ready to play?” I asked, petting first Sophie, then Bingley; it’s always important to maintain dogs’ pecking orders, and we all needed Sophie to be the leader.
I took off on my run through the course pointing at the apparatus and giving verbal commands as well: Jump, up, down, under, over, around etcetera. Bingley was naturally competitive and was mimicking many of the feats that Sophie was doing. Other times, he was simply running around the obstacles. Sometimes he tried to lure Sophie into chasing him instead of following my instructions. But all four of us truly had fun. Predictably, as soon as I had Tracy pick up Sophie so that Bingley had to follow my commands on his own, he lost interest in our game. I could tell, though, that he knew what I was telling him to do; he just didn’t want to follow my instructions.
“Dang it,” Tracy said. “He was doing so well.”
“He’s a Beagle,” I said with a shrug. “Obstinance is their middle name.”
Chapter 12
I dropped off Tracy and Bingley at their house, then drove out to Jesse’s, now kicking myself for once again having muddied up my schedule. Jesse’s home was much closer to Fort Collins than my house was, and I had yet to call my neighbor.
As soon as I’d pulled into the driveway, Jesse opened the door and stepped onto the front porch. “Look at me, Allie!” he cried, a huge grin on his face. He turned and walked in a tight circle. “Ta-dah! I feel like myself again! I got a walking cast.”
It was impossible not to share in his glee. My brightened mood continued. He joined me in Dog Face’s training, and we had a wonderful training session. For the first time, I thoroughly enjoyed his company. Furthermore, the dog’s performance was excellent. At the end of our session we gave each other a high five, and then another high five to Dog Face.
As we headed back toward his house, a male dog came out through the dog door and joined us.
“This must be the dog you’re enrolling in the conformation competition. He’s stunning.”
“Thanks! This is Eeyore.”
I positioned myself to be sideways with Eeyore—the least threatening position from the dog’s perspective. I stroked his curly fur and told him how handsome he was. Dog Face trotted toward the back door, and Eeyore followed, his gait flawless. The dogs turned and sat down next to the door to await us.
“Wow,” I said. Jesse smiled with unmasked pride for his dogs.
Jesse resumed his slow but even pace, saying, “Come over to my trailer sometime tomorrow morning, so we can go over the map of the agility course.”
His statement brought Valerie’s snipe to mind, and I suddenly realized its significance. With Jesse having access to a private trailer at the F
fairgrounds for the last two days, he, too, could have been in the vicinity yesterday when Cooper was murdered. He slid open the door, and the dogs entered, wagging their tails.
I stayed put on the concrete pad. “Valerie mentioned you had booked a lot for the trailer starting on Tuesday. Is it already in place?”
“Yep. I booked the space for five days back when I thought my leg would make it impossible for me to drive, and I’d be on crutches the whole time. But it turned out my neighbor works in Fort Collins and has been happy to give me and my dogs rides for the past couple of days. So I’m not moving in until tomorrow morning. And my doc agreed to put me in this cast this morning. Anyway, my trailer is a metallic purple JetStream. It’s right by the road at the intersection.”
“Across the street by the Brunswick Café?” I asked, my heart racing.
Jesse’s stared at me. “I had no beefs with Terrington Leach, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’d hired him to show Eeyore, Dog Face’s brother, after I’d broken my leg. Furthermore, I was still immobilized by my big cast when he was murdered.”
“I realize that. I wasn’t thinking you were a suspect, or anything,” I lied.
“When Kiki called and told me Terrington had died and asked if I needed to find a handler for Dog Face’s brother, I explained someone had already volunteered...back when Cooper was trying to unload his dogs, because of his broken arm.”
“What volunteer? The only volunteer handler I know of for Terriers is me.”
“Precisely.” He grinned.
“But...I’d only agreed to take on a Scottie and a Wheaton. And the Wheaton turned out to be a mistake.”
He gestured for me to go inside, then slid the door shut behind us, two females—judging by their small size—joined Dog Face and Eeyore in his messy kitchen. “Not exactly. Cooper called me a couple of months ago, when he was the Terrier-class manager. He said that he was pushing to get the FCDC to reverse their decision to block Valerie’s and my dogs and asked if he could save a spot for Eeyore. I said no, but he said he was having a hard time meeting his quota of entrees, so he’d give a slot to a fictional Wheaton so no one would give me any grief about registering one of my Airedales when I’d been banned. He also put himself down as the presenter, which was a bit odd, but he claimed that, since he wasn’t allowed to show Terriers, it wouldn’t matter to anyone, but it would help him keep Davis off his back.”
“That’s really convoluted,” I said.
“It is,” he replied, watching Eeyore who was now sitting at my feet, “but it boils down to the fact that you’re showing this handsome guy in the Terrier class on Saturday.”
I hesitated. “I’d be honored,” I said honestly, giving the inarguably handsome Eeyore a pat on his shoulders.
My mood sank as I left his house. Our conversation had reminded me that I still hadn’t performed the first task Kiki had given me—I hadn’t discouraged Cooper from attending the show. I drove a block or two, then pulled over and dialed Cooper’s number.
“Hi, Allie,” Cooper said as he answered his phone.
“Hi. Kiki said she spoke with you earlier today.”
“Yes indeed. My doctor gave me a less-cumbersome cast that allows me to move my fingers. I’m able to show dogs after all.”
