Filing the task away for later, she said, “I guess you heard, Kitty’s the new competitor for the NMD contest.”
“The news is out, and I think it’s great for her, but not everyone agrees. There’s a ton of gossip going around about who killed Lilah and why, and she and her brother are at the top of the list. Worse, you lost your assistant, but I’ll find someone else by this afternoon, I promise.”
Ellie figured anyone with a brain would accuse Jeffery King eventually, but Kitty? “Talking that way about Kitty is ridiculous; her brother, too.”
She crossed mental fingers over her last pronouncement. She’d heard a lot of stories about brothers who did everything and anything to right a wrong someone had committed against their sister.
“And losing Kitty is why I need you now. Keep an eye on the dogs and the table until I get these guys out and back. I have to do it in two trips. Is that okay with you?”
Patti took a seat and nodded. “Fine. I’ll be here. Just hurry up.”
Ellie stepped out the door and took a deep breath of the fresh autumn air. She hadn’t realized until she was released yesterday how cloying the scents of cosmetics, hairspray, perfume, and whatever else was used to put the shows together were. Not only did the stuff smell—each fabric seemed to carry an odor, as did the models. Many were doused in cologne, but a few others had plain old BO, and there was no way she could bring that up with them.
The dogs were quick with their business, so she returned inside, where she found Patti deep in conversation with Jeffery King. “Here she is now,” said Patti, smiling. “Ellie, Jeffery needs to talk with you.”
“But I don’t want to get in the way of your canine duties,” he told her. “Though I do have to ask, who owns the Greyhound?”
While he talked, Ellie unleashed the first round of dogs and clipped up group two, which included her boy. She wanted to ask Jeff about the swag bags, and Rudy’s observations were always helpful.
“One more out,” she said to Patti. “How about you come with me, Jeff? We can talk while we walk. It should save some time.”
He followed her and opened the door. Again in the fresh air, Ellie took another deep breath and guided the dogs down to the grass. “This part of the job is really the best for me. I’m not sure I can take much more of the craziness inside.”
Dressed in a beautifully cut suit, matching shirt and tie, and Testoni shoes, Jeffery King could have been a model himself. “Here, give me the big guy.”
He held out his hand and she passed him Ranger’s lead. “Maybe you didn’t hear me. The first thing I need to know is who owns this Greyhound?”
“Cassandra McQuagge, one of the plus-sized models,” she told him, waiting for her crew to take care of business. “Apparently he’s a rescue she found to replace the dog she had to put down last week.”
His expression grew grim. “Did she say anything about her contract? Because the models who signed on for this contest were told their dogs had to be small—no more than fifteen pounds. I’ll have to look up the agreement, but I think Cassandra said her dog was eight pounds, and that sure isn’t this boy.”
Worried that Cassandra might be in trouble, Ellie used her pickup bags to take care of the dog droppings while she thought. “I don’t believe she lied when she signed the contract. It sounded as if losing her own little pal was a surprise. Besides, I didn’t think policing the models was a part of my job.”
Jeffery straightened his red-and-tan striped tie with his free hand. “NMD made this entire contest my responsibility, and I have to ask. Since I contracted the models, I’ll be the one in trouble if the rules aren’t followed, but don’t worry. I’ll find her and we’ll discuss it.” Glancing down at the dogs, he cleared his throat. “I just needed to ask you something.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“I figure by now you’ve learned that
“The news is out, and I think it’s great for her, but not everyone agrees. There’s a ton of gossip going around about who killed Lilah and why, and she and her brother are at the top of the list. Worse, you lost your assistant, but I’ll find someone else by this afternoon, I promise.”
Ellie figured anyone with a brain would accuse Jeffery King eventually, but Kitty? “Talking that way about Kitty is ridiculous; her brother, too.”
She crossed mental fingers over her last pronouncement. She’d heard a lot of stories about brothers who did everything and anything to right a wrong someone had committed against their sister.
“And losing Kitty is why I need you now. Keep an eye on the dogs and the table until I get these guys out and back. I have to do it in two trips. Is that okay with you?”
Patti took a seat and nodded. “Fine. I’ll be here. Just hurry up.”
Ellie stepped out the door and took a deep breath of the fresh autumn air. She hadn’t realized until she was released yesterday how cloying the scents of cosmetics, hairspray, perfume, and whatever else was used to put the shows together were. Not only did the stuff smell—each fabric seemed to carry an odor, as did the models. Many were doused in cologne, but a few others had plain old BO, and there was no way she could bring that up with them.
The dogs were quick with their business, so she returned inside, where she found Patti deep in conversation with Jeffery King. “Here she is now,” said Patti, smiling. “Ellie, Jeffery needs to talk with you.”
“But I don’t want to get in the way of your canine duties,” he told her. “Though I do have to ask, who owns the Greyhound?”
While he talked, Ellie unleashed the first round of dogs and clipped up group two, which included her boy. She wanted to ask Jeff about the swag bags, and Rudy’s observations were always helpful.
“One more out,” she said to Patti. “How about you come with me, Jeff? We can talk while we walk. It should save some time.”
He followed her and opened the door. Again in the fresh air, Ellie took another deep breath and guided the dogs down to the grass. “This part of the job is really the best for me. I’m not sure I can take much more of the craziness inside.”
Dressed in a beautifully cut suit, matching shirt and tie, and Testoni shoes, Jeffery King could have been a model himself. “Here, give me the big guy.”
He held out his hand and she passed him Ranger’s lead. “Maybe you didn’t hear me. The first thing I need to know is who owns this Greyhound?”
“Cassandra McQuagge, one of the plus-sized models,” she told him, waiting for her crew to take care of business. “Apparently he’s a rescue she found to replace the dog she had to put down last week.”
His expression grew grim. “Did she say anything about her contract? Because the models who signed on for this contest were told their dogs had to be small—no more than fifteen pounds. I’ll have to look up the agreement, but I think Cassandra said her dog was eight pounds, and that sure isn’t this boy.”
Worried that Cassandra might be in trouble, Ellie used her pickup bags to take care of the dog droppings while she thought. “I don’t believe she lied when she signed the contract. It sounded as if losing her own little pal was a surprise. Besides, I didn’t think policing the models was a part of my job.”
Jeffery straightened his red-and-tan striped tie with his free hand. “NMD made this entire contest my responsibility, and I have to ask. Since I contracted the models, I’ll be the one in trouble if the rules aren’t followed, but don’t worry. I’ll find her and we’ll discuss it.” Glancing down at the dogs, he cleared his throat. “I just needed to ask you something.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“I figure by now you’ve learned that
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