Read Online Once Bitten (A Melanie Travis Mystery) by Laurien Berenson - Free Book Online
Authors: Laurien Berenson
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be in touch. Sara.”
7
“T hat is odd,” I agreed. “Read it to me again.”
Bertie did, stopping to add editorial comment as she went along. “What does she mean, ‘you’ve always been a good friend’? No, I haven’t. Sara and I have known each other a long time, but we’ve never been what I would call good friends. And then she says, ‘I know I can count on you.’ Count on me to do what?”
I had even less idea than Bertie did what the note meant. “It’s the next line that bothers me: ‘Whatever you hear about me, don’t believe most of it.’ I wonder what Sara’s been up to that she expects us to hear anything at all.”
“Maybe it’s a joke,” Bertie decided. “Sara has always had a warped sense of humor. I guess I’ll have to call her tonight and find out what’s going on.”
Looking annoyed, she tossed the envelope back in her tack box and returned to the Bichon she’d been grooming. At least we weren’t talking about Eve’s coat anymore.
“How’s my new champion?” Aunt Peg asked, walking up the aisle. She stopped beside Faith’s table and chucked the Poodle under the chin. “I’ll have you know that was a very popular win.”
“So it seemed. Apparently I’ve been working at it for so long that the other exhibitors were beginning to feel sorry for me.”
“Pish,” said Peg. “Finishing a first show dog of any breed—much less a Poodle that’s owner-handled—is a big deal. Of course it takes time. There’s a lot of learning you have to do along the way.”
“I was lucky to have a good teacher.”
“Yes, you were,” Aunt Peg agreed, not above taking her share of the credit. “And a very good Poodle.”
I paused, plastic wrap in hand, as something occurred to me. “You know, she’s finished showing now.” The reality of what that meant was just beginning to sink in. “I don’t even have to wrap this ear if I don’t want to. I could just cut the hair off.”
Aunt Peg’s hand shot out and grabbed the scissors that were lying on my tabletop. “Don’t even think such a thing. You may have won all the points you need, but Faith’s championship isn’t confirmed yet. It will take the A.K.C. several weeks to put a certificate in the mail. In the meantime, don’t you dare touch a single hair, just in case.”
“She’s right,” said Bertie. “You wouldn’t believe how many horror stories I’ve heard. A handler will send a dog home and the client goes ahead and cuts the coat off. Next thing you know it turns out the judge forgot to sign her book, or marked someone absent who was really there, so the win doesn’t get recorded as a major. It’s amazing how many things can get screwed up. I always tell my clients to wait, too.”
Outvoted, I sighed and went back to my wrapping. After all the time I’d already spent caring for Faith’s coat, another couple weeks wouldn’t kill me.
“Dinner’s on me tonight,” Aunt Peg said happily. “A celebration. Everybody at my house. I’ll call Frank and tell him. Bertie, can you make it?”
Bertie combed through the Bichon’s long, silky tail, then flipped it up over the dog’s back. “As long as it’s not too early. I’m hoping to have to stay for groups.”
“No problem. Come whenever you can.”
“Bob, too?” I asked.
Peg’s smile dimmed. “I’d forgotten about him. Wishful thinking on my part. What do you suppose he’s up to this time? I have to admit, it worries me, having him show up unexpectedly like this.”
“Me, too. But so far, he hasn’t done anything but make himself agreeable. And if he hooks up with Frank tonight, he can move in with him instead of staying with me.”
“I guess we’ll have to include him, then. Everybody likes Chinese food, right?”
It was strictly a rhetorical question. Aunt Peg cooks for her dogs. Human visitors, if they’re lucky, get takeout.
“Love it,” Bertie and I agreed.
We knew the drill.
It was after seven o’clock by the time we
7
“T hat is odd,” I agreed. “Read it to me again.”
Bertie did, stopping to add editorial comment as she went along. “What does she mean, ‘you’ve always been a good friend’? No, I haven’t. Sara and I have known each other a long time, but we’ve never been what I would call good friends. And then she says, ‘I know I can count on you.’ Count on me to do what?”
I had even less idea than Bertie did what the note meant. “It’s the next line that bothers me: ‘Whatever you hear about me, don’t believe most of it.’ I wonder what Sara’s been up to that she expects us to hear anything at all.”
“Maybe it’s a joke,” Bertie decided. “Sara has always had a warped sense of humor. I guess I’ll have to call her tonight and find out what’s going on.”
Looking annoyed, she tossed the envelope back in her tack box and returned to the Bichon she’d been grooming. At least we weren’t talking about Eve’s coat anymore.
“How’s my new champion?” Aunt Peg asked, walking up the aisle. She stopped beside Faith’s table and chucked the Poodle under the chin. “I’ll have you know that was a very popular win.”
“So it seemed. Apparently I’ve been working at it for so long that the other exhibitors were beginning to feel sorry for me.”
“Pish,” said Peg. “Finishing a first show dog of any breed—much less a Poodle that’s owner-handled—is a big deal. Of course it takes time. There’s a lot of learning you have to do along the way.”
“I was lucky to have a good teacher.”
“Yes, you were,” Aunt Peg agreed, not above taking her share of the credit. “And a very good Poodle.”
I paused, plastic wrap in hand, as something occurred to me. “You know, she’s finished showing now.” The reality of what that meant was just beginning to sink in. “I don’t even have to wrap this ear if I don’t want to. I could just cut the hair off.”
Aunt Peg’s hand shot out and grabbed the scissors that were lying on my tabletop. “Don’t even think such a thing. You may have won all the points you need, but Faith’s championship isn’t confirmed yet. It will take the A.K.C. several weeks to put a certificate in the mail. In the meantime, don’t you dare touch a single hair, just in case.”
“She’s right,” said Bertie. “You wouldn’t believe how many horror stories I’ve heard. A handler will send a dog home and the client goes ahead and cuts the coat off. Next thing you know it turns out the judge forgot to sign her book, or marked someone absent who was really there, so the win doesn’t get recorded as a major. It’s amazing how many things can get screwed up. I always tell my clients to wait, too.”
Outvoted, I sighed and went back to my wrapping. After all the time I’d already spent caring for Faith’s coat, another couple weeks wouldn’t kill me.
“Dinner’s on me tonight,” Aunt Peg said happily. “A celebration. Everybody at my house. I’ll call Frank and tell him. Bertie, can you make it?”
Bertie combed through the Bichon’s long, silky tail, then flipped it up over the dog’s back. “As long as it’s not too early. I’m hoping to have to stay for groups.”
“No problem. Come whenever you can.”
“Bob, too?” I asked.
Peg’s smile dimmed. “I’d forgotten about him. Wishful thinking on my part. What do you suppose he’s up to this time? I have to admit, it worries me, having him show up unexpectedly like this.”
“Me, too. But so far, he hasn’t done anything but make himself agreeable. And if he hooks up with Frank tonight, he can move in with him instead of staying with me.”
“I guess we’ll have to include him, then. Everybody likes Chinese food, right?”
It was strictly a rhetorical question. Aunt Peg cooks for her dogs. Human visitors, if they’re lucky, get takeout.
“Love it,” Bertie and I agreed.
We knew the drill.
It was after seven o’clock by the time we
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