Terrier Terror, page 14
“I’m fired? Why?” he asked.
My heart leapt to my throat.
“They’re in this together! You need to fire both of them,” Marsala said, now pointing at me.
Kiki opened the door and squeezed into her father’s office with us. “What’s going on? Did you just say something about firing someone?”
Marsala shifted her angry gaze to the floor. Davis ignored Kiki and continued to glare at Baxter. “Those of us on the board did not hire you to make this year’s event even worse than last year’s. We’ve had a murder, two drugged dogs, and a woman fainting.”
“How dare you, Daddy,” Kiki said. “This is as much your and my fault as it is Baxter’s. You know it. You’re trying to make him take the fall for us.”
“Somebody has to take the fall, Kiki! Otherwise the show will be canceled for good. Our names will be smeared for all eternity. I’m at the end of my career. I deserve better than to be known as the incompetent person in charge of this...this mudpuddle.”
All eternity was quite the exaggeration. I doubted future generations were going to be destined to share the story of the Fort Collins Annual Dog Show.
“Fine. I will be the goat,” Kiki said. “I’m supposed to be the secretary and noting all of these incidents. I’m supposed to be your righthand do-it-all, and I’ve been slacking off. I am hereby tendering my resignation.”
“Nobody is quitting,” Davis declared in a booming voice. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Nobody’s getting fired, either,” he said on a sigh. “We just all have to make it to Sunday afternoon. That’s less than fifty-six hours from now. I will then step down as president of the dog club. I should have done that last year. I just didn’t want to have retired as the CEO of a company with almost three-hundred employees, only to fall on my face at running a three-day-long dog show.”
“Sorry, Dad,” Kiki said gently. “I guess running a dog show is harder than it looked.”
“I love dogs,” he muttered, staring at the floor. “It’s just the blasted people who own them that make all the mayhem.”
“I suspect we can all agree with you there,” I said.
Someone knocked on the door then opened it. The veterinarian popped his head in and said, “Tallyho’s blood registered positive for a benzodiazepine drug. It must have been a truly tiny dose. He’s coming around.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” Marsala said. She put a hand on the wall to steady herself.
I grabbed Baxter’s hand and gave it a squeeze. He seemed to be avoiding my gaze. Undoubtedly, he was deeply angered by Davis’s baseless decision to fire him. We let go of each other’s hand.
“Any idea how it happened?” Davis asked. “Can you tell if it was a shot or if he ate it?”
“No. Most likely he had a trace amount in a treat, or mixed into his food or water.”
“Can I come get him?” Marsala asked.
“Of course.” The vet gave a nod, then left, leaving the door ajar.
“I’m sorry I flew off the handle, Davis,” Marsala said. “We’ll do the best we can to keep things running as smoothly as possible.” She turned and faced me. “I am so sorry I leapt at accusing you, Allida. I totally lost it when I saw Tallyho motionless. I thought he was dead. All I could think was I needed to get revenge. I just...I don’t know how this happened.”
“Maybe another child took Tallyho out of his cage, and he was sniffing around in someone’s purse,” I said.
“Hey!” Kiki objected. “I’ve been keeping my purse zipped.” She reached back and zipped her purse as she spoke. “Whenever it’s deserted, or I’ve set it down at dog level, that is. And I got rid of all my tissues.”
“That aisle is out of range of the cameras,” Baxter said. “I’m going to look at the recordings from the three cameras anyway. Maybe something will show up.” Baxter turned toward the door once again.
“Wait.” Kiki strode toward him. “I’ll come with you to look at the recording. I have to write up the incident report.” The two of them left.
“Maybe the Richard Cory drugging gave someone the idea,” I said. “It seems there’s a deliberate effort to sabotage the show. Maybe the murder wasn’t enough to stop it from taking place.”
“Again, I’m sorry,” Marsala said to me. She, too, started to leave.
“It’s okay,” I told her. “I’m sorry you’ll miss the Toy competition. He’ll probably be fine by tomorrow’s Terrier competitions.”
“I might withdraw him from the Terrier competition tomorrow,” she said. “I’ll still have Chardonnay, my Bull Terrier to show. I continue to think his time has come.” She left quickly, her footfalls fading as she headed in the direction of the veterinarian station.
Davis and I were now alone in his office. Too appalled by Baxter’s close call at getting fired so that Davis could have “a fall guy,” I decided to leave in silence.
“Allie, you don’t think Baxter still thinks he’s been fired, do you?” Davis asked.
“I doubt he’s checking the camera recordings for his own amusement,” I retorted.
“Good point. But someone is trying to destroy the show to get back at me. Probably Cooper is grinding his axe. He’s the only person I can think of who would want to see me humiliated.”
I didn’t know how to respond. “I have to get ready to show a Poodle,” I muttered as I walked away.
My stomach was in knots. Marsala’s wild accusations made more sense to me than Davis’s firing Baxter with no justification. Davis may have been right about one thing: someone did seem to be determined to destroy the event. With Davis on the top rung of our shoddy ladder, he would get the bulk of the blame, whether or not he fired anyone. Contestants were already certain that the fix was in. It might not be a contestant committing the dirty deeds, though. Kiki’s efforts to glom onto Baxter might have been designed to keep everyone distracted while she wrecked the show. All of this sabotage could be the work of a massively disgruntled daughter.
My phone rang. It was Baxter. “Hi, sweetie,” I said.
“Are you still in Davis’s office?” he asked.
“No, why?”
“Turns out the camera in the sponsors’ aisle shows Marsala picking up a dog treat or two from a bowl at the booth of the folks selling high-price-point leashes. The treats are in an open bowl, on a table right next to the entrance to their kiosk.”
“Oh, no,” I cried. “If those were laced with powdered sleeping pills or something, we could be having dogs drop off to sleep, left and right!” Was this the act of the murderer? I wondered. If so, what a horrid person to not only kill someone, but risk hurting—if not killing—innocent dogs.
“They’d set out the bowl of dog biscuits less than two hours ago. I sent the security guy out to grab the bowl. We’re now going back through the recording and will try to track down everyone who reached into the bowl.”
That sounded all but impossible. “Can’t someone make an announcement over the public address system?”
“Kiki’s going to talk to Davis about that possibility right now. She thinks it would cause too much of a panic. The vet said, judging by Tallyho, it was unlikely that any dog other than a toy will be affected.”
“But what about the agility trials?” I said, trying to stay calm. “If any of the agility contestants take even a speck of Xanax or whatever, they’re at an unfair disadvantage!”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Baxter said, his voice low with discouragement. “I’ll...get back to you.”
Chapter 18
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.
