Read Online A Hell of a Dog by Carol Lea Benjamin - Free Book Online Page B

didn’t only have our own pots of jam and jelly, we had individual creamers, sugar bowls, salt and pepper shakers, every amenity for people who usually ate greasy hot dogs on the fly between training jobs. “For them,” Beryl continued, “history begins with the people out there teaching seminars now, some of you, some far younger and far less experienced. Nor do they study breed differences. They choose a gadget and advertise themselves as experts. I hope this week inspires one or two of them to better scholarship.”
    â€œI wouldn’t count on that,” Bucky said.
    â€œAt my age, I don’t count on much.”
    â€œI don’t think that all the changes are bad ones, Beryl,” Rick said, putting down his coffee, ready for battle.
    â€œOf course you don’t,” Beryl said, dismissing him.
    â€œI think the introduction of scientific—” Rick started to say, but Beryl didn’t let him finish.
    â€œScientific? Scientific only means you have no feeling for dogs, no insights, no respect for their intelligence and ability to learn, no—”
    â€œMy good woman—”
    â€œI am not your good woman, nor anyone else’s.” Beryl pinned Rick with an alpha stare. “You are about to be very condescending toward me, and I suggest you rethink your position. Actually, rolling over, exposing your neck, and urinating would be more appropriate.”
    Rick opened his mouth as if to respond, but began wheezing instead, his face turning red as he struggled for breath. I could hear the air whistling its way down to his lungs while he fished around in his pants pocket and came up with his inhaler. That was when the door opened and Sam appeared in the doorway, her face as pale and dry looking as chalk.
    She came over to my chair and bent over so that her lips were right next to my ear. “Something terrible has happened. I need you outside now ,” she said.
    I followed her out the door and partway down the hall.
    â€œThere’s been an accident,” she said.
    â€œAlan?”
    She nodded, then covered her nose and mouth with her open hand.
    â€œWhat happened?”
    Her hand came slowly away from her face and landed lightly on my shoulder.
    â€œHe’s dead,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from tension.
    I thought immediately about the park. It must have been a mugging.
    â€œHe must have gone to lay the track alone. There must have been two—”
    She shook her head. “The police have been here since shortly after you all went out to do the tracking, checking the room and asking questions. They want to talk to Audrey, Bucky, and Beryl, because they have the rooms closest to Alan’s, to see if they heard anything. I think we’ll be able to go on. They seem pretty sure—”
    â€œYou mean he died in the hotel? Not in the park?”
    Three men in coat and tie and a woman in a navy skirt suit, her long hair pulled back and clipped at the nape of her neck, came up the stairs at the end of the hallway.
    â€œDetectives O’Shea, Flowers, DeAndrea, and Mullins, Rachel Alexander,” Sam said.
    They nodded. The woman put out her hand. “Diane Flowers,” she said. “Rachel, I was wondering if you saw Mr. Cooper after he left the group last night?”
    The other three detectives and Sam walked back toward the breakfast room.
    â€œNo, I didn’t.”
    â€œYou didn’t run into him walking his dog when you took your dog out?”
    I shook my head.
    â€œDid any of the others mention seeing Mr. Cooper later in the evening, either out with his dog, or back at the hotel?”
    â€œNot to me,” I said. “What happened?”
    â€œAnd you heard nothing last night?”
    â€œI believe Mr. Cooper’s room is on four,” I told her. “Mine is on three. No, I didn’t hear anything. And no one,” I said, looking back toward the breakfast room, “mentioned