Putting on the Dog Read Online Free PDF Page A

teetering across the grass, making her way back to the tent.
    “Witch!” the man muttered, turning to notice me for the first time.
    “What was that about?” I asked.
    He shook his head angrily. “Just because she’s considered one of the hottest caterers in the Bromptons, she thinks she’s the new Martha Stewart.”
    I wasn’t sure she’d picked the right role model, but I kept silent.
    “I mean, first she wants me to set up the sculptures here in this ridiculous gazebo,” the man sputtered angrily. “Do you have any idea what it’s like getting six humungous ice sculptures up eight stairs? Then she insists that they be placed right next to the railing. Hasn’t she ever heard of gravity? Doesn’t she know what would happen if one of these fell over?
    “Besides, it’s not as if I work for her!” he continued. “I’m working for Russell Bolger.”
    “Who’s Russell Bolger?”
    “The guy who owns this estate—and the guy who hired me.”
    “He’s got quite a place here,” I observed. “Who is he, anyway?”
    “Only one of the most high-powered executives in the film industry. And I have a feeling that if he knew what Phyllis wanted me to do...” His voice trailed off. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. It’s not your problem.” He turned to the ice sculptures and studied them in silence.
    “Are you the artist?” I finally asked.
    He nodded.
    “Your work is fabulous,” I said sincerely. “You’ve carved the dogs so accurately! Look at the flat skull and the almond-shaped eyes on Lassie. You’ve captured collies perfectly. And over here on Rin Tin Tin, you’ve got the slightly curved tail that’s typical of German Shepherds—”
    “What are you, some kind of dog expert?”
    “In a way,” I said, suddenly sheepish. “I’m a veterinarian. In fact, I’m here for the dog show. I’m running the ‘Ask The Vet’ booth.”
    His expression softened. “Well, thanks. In that case, maybe I should bring my cat by. I keep meaning to take her to the vet, but I never have the time. Lulu’s eyes have been so red lately. Almost like conjunctivitis, even though I know that’s a people thing.”
    “It’s a cat thing, too. How long has she had it?”
    “Almost a week. I know I should have taken care of it by now. But June is the busiest month of the year for us. The summer season’s starting up and everybody on the East End is having a party. I just haven’t had time to bring her in.”
    “If it is just a superficial eye infection, a broad-spectrum antibiotic would take care of it. But it might be chlamydia. It’s not serious, but it could become chronic, something that’s brought out by stress. Tell you what: how about if I come over to your studio the first chance I get? I’ve got a mobile services unit, and I make house calls for a living. I’d be happy to take a look at her.”
    “ Would you? That would be so great! Here, let me give you my card. It’s got the address of my studio on it. I’m so loaded up that I’m pretty much there from dawn ’til midnight, seven days a week. Unless I’m at an event, setting up.”
    I glanced at the business card he’d handed me. It was glossy black card stock, printed in silver.
    Gary Frye
Ice Sculptor Extraordinaire
Ice Castles
    Underneath was the address and phone number of his studio, which was located right in East Brompton.
    “I’ll try to come by tomorrow,” I told him. “It depends on how busy this dog-show thing keeps me.”
    “Great.” Mumbling, he added, “At least something good came out of this evening. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to figure out how to make these things safe.”
    As I headed back into the tent, I saw that the guests had started arriving in droves. I wasn’t at all surprised that Devon Barnett had relocated once again. Now that he’d satisfied his nicotine craving, he’d positioned himself directly outside the tent’s main entrance, where no one could sneak by without having their