Read Online Death of a Dog Whisperer (9780758284570) by Laurien Berenson - Free Book Online

buried a treasure here. It’s just one old ring, that’s all.”
    He held out his hand. James dropped the jewelry into it.
    â€œPretty, though,” Phil commented. “I wouldn’t mind finding something like that around my house.”
    â€œAnd you’d know better than to give it back,” James pointed out.
    â€œI sure would,” Phil agreed.
    â€œNice to meet you, Melanie,” James said. He and Phil headed for the back door. “Do me a favor? If you don’t mention that Poodle lady thing to Amber, my life will go a little smoother. If you know what I mean.”
    â€œConsider it forgotten,” I said.
    I watched the two men walk through the kitchen and let themselves out. “Don’t you ever lock your doors?” I asked.
    â€œNot when I’m here.” Bob shrugged. “It’s not like this is New York. Or even downtown Stamford. Isn’t that why people move to the suburbs? So that they can feel safe without having a million locks on everything?”
    â€œI don’t know about you,” I said. “But I’d feel safer without neighbors who felt free to wander through my house whenever they felt like it.”
    â€œDon’t mind James. He means well. The poor guy is just bored. As soon as the economy picks up and somebody gives him a job, things will go back to normal around here.”
    â€œOr maybe you should just think about locking your doors,” I said.

Chapter 6
    K evin and I were out running errands when Aunt Peg called.
    â€œMelanie!” she sang out cheerfully. “You’re a genius.”
    There’s nothing that pleases my aunt more than having one of her relatives succeed at something she considers important. She doesn’t hand out accolades lightly—and almost never to me. So even though I had no idea what had occasioned that unexpected burst of praise, it seemed safer not to question my good fortune in case she might be tempted to change her mind.
    â€œThank you,” I replied. “I’m happy to be of service.”
    â€œI’m not sure I’d go that far,” Peg retorted.
    Of course not. I shouldn’t have presumed.
    â€œBut you did introduce me to Nick Walden and that was well done. He’s quite an interesting young man.”
    â€œSo I take it his visit to meet your Poodles went well?”
    â€œI should say so.... Melanie, what is that noise? Where are you?”
    We were on the Merritt Parkway approaching North Street exit in Greenwich. A driver in the left lane ahead of us must have seen the exit sign too late because he swerved to the right, heedless of oncoming traffic. Horns blared. He flipped the other drivers the bird and shot up the ramp.
    â€œKevin and I are running errands,” I told her. “But as it happens we’re not too far from you. Should we stop by for a few minutes?”
    Perhaps it was immodest of me to want to prolong the conversation. But seriously? I’m not in Aunt Peg’s good graces often and I wanted to bask a little.
    Besides, Peg’s sweet tooth is legendary. And she always has cake.
    My aunt lives in back country Greenwich. Her house, once the hub of a working farm, is situated on five acres of private, rolling land. The kennel building behind the house—which over the years had housed dozens of Cedar Crest champion Poodles—now sits empty. Due to the time and travel demands of her busy judging schedule, Peg has had to greatly curtail her own showing and breeding.
    Her five remaining Standard Poodles are all house dogs. Among them are Faith’s litter sister Hope, Eve’s litter brother Zeke, and Beau, an older, neutered, male who is the love of her life. Since Aunt Peg is the one who got me started in Poodles, it’s not surprising that our canine connection is as interwoven as our human one.
    As always, Aunt Peg’s Poodles alerted her to our arrival. She opened the front door and the pack came