A Pedigree to Die For Read Online Free PDF

began to lick my fingers.
    â€œNow you do,” Aunt Peg said briskly. “Poodles aren’t just any dogs, you know. They’re very special.”
    â€œOf course,” I murmured, and kept the rest of my thoughts to myself. Every mother thinks her own child is the best.
    Davey came racing around the front of the building as Peg opened the door. He glanced inside, then kept on going. Just as well. No doubt he would get up to less trouble outside the kennel than in.
    The room we entered seemed to be part sitting room and part grooming area. A rubber-matted grooming table was parked in the middle of the floor, and I stepped around it to inspect the well-stocked shelves that filled one side wall. The quantity of equipment she had lined up and ready for use was nothing short of amazing.
    Of course there were brushes and combs, each in several different varieties. But I also saw clippers and nail grinders, three kinds of shampoo with matching conditioners, colored rubber bands, special wrapping papers, and a leather case filled with scissors. And those were only the things I recognized. Obviously the time and effort it took to keep Aunt Peg’s Poodles in top shape had to have been staggering.
    That her efforts had paid off handsomely, however, was apparent from the condition of her trophy cabinet, which overflowed with an assortment of gleaming silverware. It was an impressive display, and I said so.
    Aunt Peg shrugged off the compliment and passed by the hardware without so much as a glance. She stopped at a collection of framed pictures, all eight-by-ten shots, all taken at dog shows. Each one featured Aunt Peg holding one Poodle or another while the judge awarded them a prize.
    â€œChampion Cedar Crest Salute,” she said, tapping her finger against several of the frames in turn. “My first Best in Show winner, and Beau’s great-grandfather.”
    We moved a bit farther down the wall, and the pictures shifted from black-and-white to color as they became more recent. “These two here are Beau,” Aunt Peg said proudly.
    I leaned over and peered closely at the pictures. Like all the others, they showed Aunt Peg, a judge, and a big black Poodle. How she managed to tell the dogs apart, I had no idea.
    â€œHe’s very pretty,” I said politely.
    Aunt Peg smiled but didn’t comment. I hadn’t fooled her for a minute.
    When we reached the end of the row, she led the way through an arched doorway, and we entered another large rectangular room. This one was lined on both sides with wire pens, most of them taken. As we walked down the aisle, Aunt Peg stopped to greet each dog by name.
    â€œThis is the inside half of the runs you just saw.” She gestured toward an empty pen at the end of the row, then quickly looked away. “That’s where I found Max.”
    I nodded, eyes down, and headed that way. The back wall, with two windows and a door had definite potential, and I bent down to inspect the area. There was nothing unusual about the first window, and its latch was still securely fastened. Aunt Peg leaned down over my shoulder to have a look, too.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” asked Davey, sneaking up behind us as we hovered solicitously over the sill.
    Aunt Peg and I both jumped, and I could tell from the look on her face that she felt every bit as foolish as I did. “We’re looking for clues,” she said, mustering a considerable show of dignity. “You can help if you want.”
    â€œOkay,” Davey agreed, disappearing again.
    Aunt Peg and I went back to our examination, but the second window was no more promising than the first. An inspection of the back door showed that it was bolted as, Aunt Peg maintained, it had been all along.
    â€œMaybe the windows in the other room?” she suggested, and we went back to look. They yielded nothing of interest either.
    Frustrated, I stood in the archway between the two rooms. We’d checked every