Hair of the Dog Read Online Free PDF Page A

harrumphed loudly into the phone. “I heard that his Poodle beat Ron’s good Chow.”
    â€œDon’t tell me you think the two things are connected.”
    â€œI’m willing to consider the possibility.”
    â€œCome on,” I scoffed. Dog show people tend to take winning very seriously but, as far as I was concerned, the notion that the two events might have been connected strained credibility. “So Barry beat the Chow. It was one time, under one judge. That’s hardly a motive for murder. Like you say to me when I lose with Faith, there’s always another dog show coming along next week.”
    â€œTrue. But I still wouldn’t strike Ron Pullman off the list.”
    â€œReally? Which list is that?”
    â€œI’m just thinking aloud,” Aunt Peg said innocently. “What about Bill Devane?”
    Good old Aunt Peg. Curious, yes. Subtle, no. Now we were checking alibis. I decided to humor her.
    â€œAccording to Crawford, he was the first person Alicia contacted. Presumably he was home to get the call. Where does he live?”
    â€œJust a minute, let me look in my judges’ book.”
    Left hanging on the line, I used the time to walk over to the cabinet and get out a peanut butter biscuit for Faith. She stood up and cocked her head inquiringly.
    â€œSit,” I said firmly.
    Faith wagged her tail and settled her haunches on the ground. Lots of people will tell you that you should never teach a dog basic obedience while it’s still showing in the breed classes. The requirements for the two sports are very different—for example, while sitting on command is integral to an obedience performance, you never want your dog to sit while it’s being judged in the breed ring.
    Like all Poodles, however, Faith is very intelligent. She doesn’t seem to be having any trouble figuring out the difference between the two routines. Besides, now that she was older and bigger, it seemed like a good idea for her to understand that I was the one in charge. Lord knew, Davey was still having trouble with that concept.
    â€œBill lives in Patterson,” said Aunt Peg, coming back on the phone. “Melanie, are you there?”
    â€œRight here. Patterson isn’t that far from Poughkeepsie. Of course, we don’t know how long it was after Barry was shot that Alicia made the call.”
    Peg and I both considered that.
    â€œI wonder if the police have any ideas?” she mused.
    â€œSam didn’t know. He’s going to keep me posted.”
    â€œI might make a few calls myself,” Aunt Peg said, surprising nobody in the vicinity. “You know how people love to talk.”
    I considered it a sign of maturity on my part that I didn’t utter the remark that comment called for.
    The call ended moments later. Aunt Peg didn’t exactly give me the bum’s rush, but now that she’d gotten what little information I had, I could tell she was eager to find someone who could fill in the details. It was just as well as it was almost time for me to go pick up Davey.
    He goes to Graceland Summer Camp, which is held at the same facility where he attended preschool when he was younger. The summer before, I’d worked at the camp as a part-time counselor to pick up some extra money. Now, however, with my child support payments from Davey’s father finally back on schedule after a lengthy hiatus, I was enjoying having some time off.
    Winters, I work in the Stamford public school system as a special education teacher. The job takes a lot out of me. By the end of June, when school gets out, I’m always ready for a break. And not having to work all summer too? The prospect seemed positively luxurious.
    I dug a tennis ball and a Frisbee out of the closet and loaded Faith into the Volvo. Like most dogs, she loves to ride in cars. She knows better than to bark at passing attractions, but that doesn’t stop her from having an opinion. The