Doggie Day Care Murder by Laurien Berenson Read Free Book Online Page A

Peg was.
    â€œAnd Davey’s enjoying this?”
    That seemed to be my role in this conversation, just asking one semi-repetitive question after another. But I wanted to make sure that I got things exactly right. For Davey’s sake and my own.
    â€œThe few lessons we’ve had, very much so. He likes being the one holding the end of the leash—and having someone he can tell what to do. And of course, the Poodles play along and let him think he’s in charge.”
    They would.
    â€œSo now what?” I asked.
    â€œNow we let him practice some more until we think he’s ready to venture out into the real world and try his hand at a few dog shows. I imagine there will be someplace this summer where he can get his start.”
    â€œHe’ll need to show a Poodle in hair in order to be competitive.”
    All of Sam’s and my dogs were cut down. Once a Poodle had stopped showing, maintaining the elaborate clip required for the ring took entirely too much time to be feasible. Although Davey would be allowed to show a Poodle that wasn’t wearing the traditional continental trim, he would have a harder time winning if his dog didn’t look the way the judges expected it to.
    Aunt Peg smiled. “I’ve been having him practice with Hope, so there’s no long hair to get in the way of everything else he needs to learn, but I’m sure that Custer will be happy to step in and help out when the time comes. Indeed, I suspect the two of them might have quite a bit of fun together.”
    â€œThank you,” I said.
    Aunt Peg raised a brow. Just one. Don’t ask me how she does it.
    â€œFor starting all this behind your back?”
    â€œFor noticing something that I should have.”
    â€œOh my dear.” Aunt Peg laughed. “You must have realized by now. I notice everything.”
    Wasn’t that the truth?
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    On the way home, I called and checked in with Alice.
    Most people can drive and talk on the phone at the same time; I see them doing it all the time. For me, however, the maneuver is a major challenge. Either I’m thinking about my driving or I’m thinking about the conversation I’m holding. When I try to do both, my brain short-circuits.
    Which was why shortly after she picked up, I took a wrong turn. It would have been fine if I’d noticed where I was going, but of course I was so busy talking that I didn’t. So instead of driving home, I drove to Alice’s house.
    On some convoluted level, I’m sure that made sense to my subconscious.
    We’d barely gotten past the small talk before I found myself turning onto the road where the Brickmans lived. Which, as it happens, was also where Davey and I had lived until fairly recently. The small, Cape Cod house we’d shared was now the residence of Davey’s father, my ex-husband, Bob.
    It’s kind of a long story how that came about. Just another one of those things that seems to make more sense when you’re in the process than it does later when you look back and try to explain how it all happened. But since I was already in the neighborhood, I figured I might as well stop in and see Bob later on too.
    Alice is well acquainted with most of my foibles, and I’d already explained about the driving thing while we were talking, so she was standing out on the sidewalk, waiting for me, when I turned onto the road. She had Berkley on a leash beside her. The Golden Retriever looked thrilled at the prospect of an unexpected, midafternoon walk.
    Alice snapped her phone shut as I got out of the Volvo. Stepping up onto the curb, I reached down and greeted Berkley first. He was wriggling in place with excitement; his long, feathered tail lashed back and forth across Alice’s legs.
    â€œBerkley, sit,” she said firmly.
    The Golden had been to obedience school. In fact, I seemed to recall that he’d taken the six-week beginner course three times. But since no