Hounded to Death Read Online Free PDF Page B

entered the room with earlier. Could that have been…?
    â€œThere she is.” Alana raised a not-too-steady hand and pointed. “The woman with the ratty little Chihuahua sticking its head out of her purse? That’s Florence Donner. She and Richard go everywhere together.”

4
    I almost laughed. Then I caught myself.
    Whatever mean-spirited thoughts I had harbored earlier—payback for all the times Aunt Peg had maneuvered me into in an embarrassing situation and then left me there to fend for myself—she certainly didn’t deserve something like this.
    â€œYou’re not joking, are you?”
    â€œWhy would I joke about something like that? It isn’t the least bit funny. If you ask me, it’s kind of pathetic. A grown man traveling around to shows with his seventy-year-old mother. You’d think he’d want to get a life.”
    My stomach sank. Apparently Richard had wanted to get a life. And he begun that quest by wooing Aunt Peg over the Internet.
    â€œFlorence Donner and Richard Donner are mother and son?” Bertie said, surprised. “I never made the connection.”
    My gaze swung her way. “You know her?”
    â€œI’ve shown under her. She judges some of the Toy breeds.”
    â€œIs she any good?”
    The question, though not germane, was almost automatic. Dog show exhibitors’ fortunes rise and fall with the quality of the judges they show to. We’re always on the quest for good judges and we’ll travel almost any distance to find them.
    Bertie shrugged. “She’s not bad.”
    Alana looked at us. “What’s up with you two? Why are you so interested in Richard Donner?”
    â€œHe and my aunt have been corresponding by e-mail for the last few months. Apparently they’ve become quite good friends.”
    â€œIs that her over there talking to him now?”
    I nodded.
    â€œYour aunt is Peg Turnbull?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œWell then,” said Alana, sliding down off her stool. “There’s only one thing to do.”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    I figured she was going to advise us to warn Aunt Peg about this unexpected development. But Alana surprised me. She grabbed my arm and headed determinedly into the crowd.
    â€œLet’s go introduce you to Florence.”
    â€œBertie!” Swept along like a tug in the wake of a much larger barge, I cast a beseeching glance back over my shoulder.
    â€œComing.” She slapped her glass down on the bar and followed. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”
    Florence Donner was speaking with several people, but the impetus of our approach, which had already caused the crowd to part before us, now made her companions draw back as well. Alana smoothly inserted herself into the space they’d vacated, so accustomed to that sort of deference she didn’t even notice it.
    â€œFlorence,” she said.
    â€œAlana.” The older woman tipped her head slightly to one side. “Imagine seeing you here.”
    Had the temperature in the room cooled suddenly, or was it just us?
    Then I noticed that the little fawn-colored Chihuahua, whose domed head had been sticking up through the opening at the top of Florence’s commodious purse, had abruptly tucked himself back inside. Apparently I wasn’t the only one present who was skilled in reading the nuances of human behavior.
    Ignoring Florence’s less than welcoming demeanor, Alana reached back and hauled Bertie and me forward. “I’d like you to meet Melanie Travis and Bertie Kennedy. They’re friends of mine.”
    â€œReally? How very fortunate for them.”
    I held out my hand and after a brief hesitation, Florence Donner followed suit. Her slender fingers felt dry and fragile in my grasp. I didn’t dare actually shake her hand for fear I might break something.
    â€œYou.” Florence’s sharp gray eyes focusing on Bertie.