Die Another Dane

Book 31: Melanie Travis Canine Mystery

by Laurien Berenson

Genres: Amateur Sleuth; Animal Cozy Mysteries; Female Sleuths

Synopsis

It’s June in Connecticut and Melanie Travis has her hands full with her family and her Standard Poodles, but when a breeder and exhibitor of Great Danes dies under suspicious circumstances, she also has a big mystery to solve . . .

After seeing a Great Dane at a dog show, Melanie’s younger son Kevin has become obsessed with the giant breed. Some kids get into dinosaurs—for Kevin it’s Great Danes. Aunt Peg introduces Melanie and her son to Audrey Kane, a charming older woman who breeds and shows the big dogs.

Aware of Melanie’s talent for sleuthing, Audrey asks for her help in finding a missing brooch. She suspects her stepsister Lara. Sam and Melanie are showing their Standard Poodle puppy, Plum, at a dog show where Lara will also be exhibiting her Great Dane. Melanie makes contact with Lara but gets no answers.

When Audrey is found dead in her home, Aunt Peg enlists the help of the local Great Dane Club to foster Audrey’s 10 dogs, one of whom Melanie takes on. To her surprise, Lara comes to her and asks her to solve her stepsister’s murder. From the president of the Great Dane Club to Audrey’s dependable dog-sitter—and not ruling out Lara herself—Melanie soon has more suspects than Audrey had Great Danes. With Aunt Peg’s assistance, she doggedly pursues the killer . . .

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 304

Sample

“I want a dog,” my son Kevin announced.

He was six years old; a blond, blue-eyed, sneakerwearing dynamo. Someday his full-lipped pout would make teenage girls swoon. Today it was aimed in my direction. Kevin could be utterly charming when he wanted to be.

Even so, in a household that already consisted of four people and six dogs, this request was going to be a hard sell.

It was the first day of summer vacation. So far, my family of four had done nothing more than enjoy the opportunity to sleep late, followed by a leisurely breakfast. But with so much free time now stretching out ahead of us, it suddenly looked as though I needed a plan to keep both my boys busy enough to prevent ideas like this one from taking root.

“You already have a dog,” I pointed out.

The dog in question was Bud, a small, spotted dog of indeterminate lineage. Kevin and I were in our living room of our Connecticut home, and Bud was in his favorite spot beneath a nearby couch. Also in the room with us were five black Standard Poodles. All the Poodles were related to each other. All but one were homebred champions. Unlike Bud, their pedigrees had been documented for generations.

“I need a bigger dog,” Kevin said firmly.

The Poodles pricked their ears. Compared to Bud, they were bigger dogs. Standards are the largest variety the breed comes in. And being Poodles, they were always happy to join in a conversation. Ten-month-old Plum, the newest addition to our canine crew, walked over and nudged the back of Kevin’s neck with her nose. He giggled and dodged away.

“You’d better not let Bud hear you say that.” I glanced toward the couch. The little dog’s stubby tail was the only part of him that was visible. Even so, I was sure he was listening.

“Bud understands,” Kevin said firmly.

“Bud understands what?” My older son, Davey, came strolling into the room.

He and Kevin were half-siblings. My first marriage had ended more than a decade earlier, but I saw reminders of my ex-husband in Davey’s tawny-brown hair, lean build, and confident demeanor. Though nine years apart in age, Davey and Kevin were best friends. Most of the time, anyway.

One thing they always agreed on was the benefit to be gained by ganging up on their parents. I figured that would probably be their next move.

“Bud understands that he’s little,” Kevin replied. “And it made sense for him to be my dog when I was little, too. But now I’m not anymore.”

Davey squinted downward. Kev barely came up to his waist. “Says who?”

“Says me! I’ve grown two inches.”

He was right about that. It was a good thing it was June and he could wear shorts because over the winter, he’d outgrown all his long pants.

“But you love Bud,” I pointed out.

“I could love a big dog too,” Kev said practically. Like this was something we were actually going to consider. Which it most definitely was not.

“What kind of big dog do you want?” Davey asked, throwing gas on the fire under the guise of being helpful.

“A Great Dane.”

“A Great Dane,” I echoed faintly.

Kevin crossed his arms over his small chest. “Yes. A big one.”

As if there was any other kind.

“I saw one at a dog show. It was the size of a pony.”

Davey grinned. “I had a pony when I was just about your age. A palomino with a long white tail.”

“No.” Kev’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Really. I got to ride her for the whole summer.”

Kevin turned back to me. “Now I want a pony,” he said.

This conversation was definitely heading in the wrong direction. Barely midmorning, my day had already gone totally off the rails. I heard a laugh from down the hall. It came from the room that served as my husband’s office. Sam could clearly hear what was going on.

“I could use a little help out here,” I called.

“It sounds like you’re doing just fine,” Sam replied.

When the pony incident had taken place, his and my relationship had hit a rough patch. So he’d managed to circumvent most of that debacle. Maybe Sam needed a recap because I wasn’t doing “just fine.” The boys had me outnumbered, and they knew it.

“No pony,” I said to Kevin.

He pushed out his lower lip. “How come Davey got to have a pony and I don’t?”

“It’s a long story.”

The pony had been a surprise present from ex-husband, Bob. And yet, a few months later when Davey lost interest, it had fallen to me to find her a new home. I wasn’t about to take on that kind of responsibility again.

I heard footsteps; then Sam appeared around the corner. Taller than me by half a foot, he moved with the easy grace of the athlete he’d been in college two decades earlier. He had broad shoulders, shaggy blond hair, and the same deep blue eyes as Kevin. Right now, they were twinkling with suppressed mirth.

I had hoped Sam was coming to lend me support. Instead, it looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“Compared to the alternative, I’m guessing the idea of a Great Dane is sounding pretty good right about now,” he mentioned.

“Yay!” Kevin cried.

“Not so fast,” I said. “No yay. No Great Dane. No pony.”

“And no fun either.” Davey made a sad face for his brother’s benefit.

I looked around at my family, wondering which one I should try to smack some sense into first. Why was I the one who always had to be the voice of reason?

“I’m not the bad guy here,” I said. “We already have six dogs. We definitely don’t need another one.”

“We have a big yard—” Davey began.

I quelled him with a look, then turned to Kevin. “How about this? Aunt Peg knows everyone in the dog show world. I’m sure she must have a friend who breeds Great Danes. I’ll give her a call and see if she can arrange for you to meet some Danes close up.”

“Good idea,” Sam said.

“You mean good save.” Davey chortled. “But you won’t have to call Aunt Peg, because you’re going to be dropping me off at her house shortly.”

“I am?” That was news to me.

“Sure,” Davey replied. “It’s summer.”

“I’m going to need more information than that.”

“School’s out,” he added unhelpfully.

“Keep going.”

“So I needed a job.”

Right. Two summers ago, Davey had spent his vacation doing odd jobs around the neighborhood. The previous year, he’d been a counselor at a local camp. This year, I hadn’t heard about any plans for summer employment. But with Davey starting his junior year of high school in the fall, he was already under pressure to keep his grades up and prepare for the not-too-distant college application process. I hadn’t wanted to add to his worries.

“A job.” The words seemed to stick in my throat. “With Aunt Peg.”

Davey smiled. Then nodded. Poor kid. He had no idea what he was getting into.

“Doing what?”

“Whatever she needs,” he said brightly. “Aunt Peg’s pretty old, you know. I’m sure she could use some help around her house.”

Aunt Peg might be in her seventies, but she possessed the energy and mental acuity of a person half her age. For decades, she’d bred a family of Standard Poodles that ranked among the best in the country. Now she traveled the globe as a much-in-demand judge. A legend in the dog show world, Aunt Peg was a woman of great intelligence and forceful opinions. Standing six feet tall, with a commanding presence, she tended to run roughshod over anyone who didn’t see things her way.

Clearly Davey was going to need an attitude adjustment before he reported to work. I was about to offer one, but Sam was quicker.

“Just so you know,” he said, “calling Peg ‘old’ is going to get you fired on your first day.”

“I wasn’t going to say it out loud—”

“Don’t even think it.”

Davey smirked. “Come on. I know everyone thinks Aunt Peg has some kind of special powers, but it’s not like she’s telepathic.”

“Are you sure?” Kevin piped up. “Because she talks to her Poodles all the time, and she says they answer back.”

“That’s not special,” I said. “We all do that. Even you.”

Kevin frowned. He looked confused.

“Think about it. Don’t you usually know what Bud is thinking?”

“Bud’s easy.” Davey laughed. “He only ever thinks about one thing. Food! Food! Food!”

The little dog heard us talking about him. Plus, he’d heard the word food. He began to inch his football-shaped body out from under the couch. He was probably hoping we’d offer him a second breakfast.

Davey’s pronouncement had also attracted the Poodles’ attention. All five dogs jumped up from their perches around the room. The oldest of the group was Faith. She and I had been together ten years, and we shared a special bond that was both intimate and deeply meaningful. When Faith pressed her body against my leg, I slid my fingers under her chin and gave her a gentle scratch.

The other female Poodles were Faith’s daughter, Eve, and Sam’s puppy, Plum. Sam and I had whelped a litter for Aunt Peg the previous summer, and he and Peg had both kept puppies to show this year. Our male Poodles were Sam’s former specials dog, Tar, and Davey’s dog, Augie. That duo was a boisterous pair whose antics kept us on our toes.

The four older Poodles each had a short blanket of dense curls covering their bodies, their faces and feet clipped, and a pompon on the end of their tails. Plum, the puppy, was “in hair.” Her show coat needed to be bathed and brushed frequently, while also being guarded against tangles or tears.

Tar lifted his head and looked around. He knew something was about to happen, but he had no idea what. Tar was endearingly sweet and gorgeous to look at, but unfortunately, he was also the only dumb Poodle I’d ever met. All three bitches, even the puppy, could think rings around him.

Kevin giggled. “Tar wants a biscuit.”

He’d said the magic word. Six heads swiveled around; six pairs of dark eyes fastened on my younger son. Tails began to wag.

“See?” I said. “You do understand what they’re thinking.”

Kevin smiled in sudden recognition.

“Now you’ve done it,” Davey warned him. “They won’t be happy until we get them a biscuit.”

“Now you said it.” Kevin laughed again as they all left the room, heading for the kitchen. Bud led the way and the Poodles followed close behind.

I watched them leave, then turned back to Sam. “How come I didn’t know about Davey’s plans for the summer?”

He shrugged.

There was no way I was going to accept that non-answer. I stood there and waited him out.

“It was Peg’s idea,” Sam said finally.

Of course it was. I should have expected that.

“Why?”

“You and she usually do lots of things together. I guess she thought you might feel slighted if you knew she had a plan to spend much of the summer with Davey instead.”

“Things,” I repeated slowly. “You mean like solving mysteries? That’s hardly my fault. You know how nosy Aunt Peg is.”

Sam smiled down at me. “I also know the trait runs in the family.”

Yes, well. I could hardly dispute that.

“I was bound to find out where Davey was going every day,” I pointed out. “Especially since he thinks I’m going to be driving him.”

“Maybe Peg didn’t think that far ahead.”

Neither one of us believed that for a minute. Aunt Peg always thought that far ahead. Even when nobody else did.

“What do you suppose she’s up to now?” I mused.

“You could try asking her,” Sam said.

Right. Like that would help. Aunt Peg would let me know what was going on when she was good and ready. And not a single minute before.

Sam went back to his home office. I loaded Davey and Kevin in the car for the trip to Aunt Peg’s. Faith sat in the back seat of the Volvo with Kevin. Davey was up front next to me.

We live in Stamford, a thriving city on the Connecticut coastline, but our house is well north of the bustling downtown area. In our quiet neighborhood, houses are set back from the road, kids can play outside all day, and no one cares that we have six dogs contained behind the tall cedar fence enclosing our large backyard. It’s a great place for children to grow up.

Davey would be turning sixteen in September, and he’d been looking forward to getting his learner’s permit for months. We had picked up the state driver’s manual, and I knew he’d already memorized most of it. Now he scrutinized my every move as I rolled the car slowly down the driveway. Aware that I was being observed, I paused at the end, even though the road was empty.

“Don’t forget to look both ways,” Davey said. “And you should probably put on your turn signal.”

“My signal?” I glanced his way. “Doesn’t that seem like overkill?”

“You’re changing direction. It’s in the manual.”

Heaven forbid I set a poor example, but seriously?

“Surely that only counts when I’m already on a road,” I said.

“But you’re merging into traffic.”

I made a show of looking both ways. The road was still empty. “What traffic?”

Davey sat up straight and stuck a hand out in front of him—like maybe he was preparing to brace for impact. As far as I could tell, the only thing in the vicinity I could possibly hit was the low curb.

“Better safe than sorry,” he said earnestly.

Kevin bounced up and down in his car seat. “Sorry, not sorry,” he chortled.

I wondered where he’d learned that dismissive phrase, but at the moment I had a bigger problem to attend to. Faith stood up and peered over my shoulder. She was wondering why we weren’t moving. Frankly, so was I.

“Are you going to critique my driving all the way to Greenwich?” I asked Davey.

“Maybe.”

I stared at him across the front of the car.

“Only when you do things wrong,” he qualified.

“How about never?” I said.

“Yes, but—”

“Or we can go back inside and you can ask Sam to drive you.”

“He’s busy,” Davey pointed out.

“I’m aware of that.”

Sam worked for himself, designing interactive software. I was a special needs tutor at a private school in Greenwich. When the boys were on summer vacation, in theory so was I. Now it was beginning to look as though Davey thought that meant I would be at his beck and call.

“Or,” I said reasonably, “you can call Aunt Peg and tell her you can’t make it today.”

“That’s not fair.” Davey echoed the tried-and-true teenage anthem.

“Why not?”

“Yeah,” Kevin said from the back seat. “Why not?”

My objection hadn’t accomplished anything. Kevin’s, for some reason, carried weight.

“Okay.” Davey sat back. “You guys win.”

“I don’t want to win,” I told him. “I just want to drive the car.” Note that we still hadn’t moved from the end of the driveway.

“Not me,” Kev said. “I want to win. What do I get for winning?”

I turned around to face him. “How about a ride to Greenwich?”

He considered that. “Will Aunt Peg give me cake?”

Even though we’d eaten breakfast not too long before, sadly, she probably would. I nodded.

“Yay!” Kev pumped a fist in the air. “Let’s go.”

Kids were so much easier at that age.

When we were finally on the road, the trip down the Merritt Parkway to Aunt Peg’s house took less than twenty minutes. She lived in Greenwich’s bucolic backcountry. Her home was a decades-old former farmhouse, set on five acres of rolling land that bordered a tract of woods filled with riding trails.

A kennel building behind the house had burned down several years earlier, and Aunt Peg hadn’t bothered to rebuild it. Because she spent so much time traveling, she now lived with just three Standard Poodles. Her older bitch, Hope, was Faith’s litter sister. The young dog, Joker, was Plum’s brother. The third was Coral, a lovely bitch whom Davey had handled to her championship the previous summer.

I barely had time to park the Volvo before Aunt Peg opened her front door and the three black Poodles came spilling down the steps into the yard. In a flash, Kevin had his harness unfastened and was out of the car. He quickly disappeared into the swirling melee of dogs. Since he’d left the car door open behind him, Faith jumped out to join them.

“No hair pulling, you lot!” Aunt Peg called out as she came down the stairs. “Joker has a show next week.”

Casually dressed in sneakers, lightweight jeans, and a T-shirt with the name of a local kennel club on the front, Aunt Peg still made an imposing figure. Her gaze was direct and her posture excellent. She wore her shoulderlength gray hair pulled back in its customary bun. Despite her age, Aunt Peg glowed with vitality. If, in the course of him doing his job, she and Davey were ever to disagree, I suspected she could probably arm wrestle him into submission.

Aunt Peg satisfied herself that the Poodles were behaving, then stopped at the foot of the steps and waited for us to come to her. Davey quickly obliged. I paused briefly to check on Kevin, before following.

“Good morning,” I said. “Davey tells me you have a summer job for him.”

“Indeed.” Aunt Peg nodded. “I have every intention of keeping him busy.”

“Doing what?”

“This and that,” she replied blithely. “I thought we might start by setting up an agility course in the backyard.”

“Agility?” I was surprised. “When did you start doing that?”

“I haven’t yet. That’s why we need to build the course.”

Agility was one of the most popular and fastest growing canine sports. To compete, handlers directed their dogs over a course of varied obstacles—jumps, tunnels, and weave poles among them. Entrants were scored on their accuracy and speed in completing the course. The sport was wonderful exercise for both dogs and their humans. Poodles, athletic and outgoing, often excelled in the competitions.

Even so, I still couldn’t help but be skeptical. Aunt Peg was not only an older woman, she also had a schedule that was already jam-packed with activities. This seemed like an unlikely time for her to take up a new dog sport, much less one that vigorous.

“Agility,” I said again, in case Aunt Peg wanted to revise her earlier statement.

She didn’t. Instead, she doubled down. “That’s right. I’m going to need all kinds of obstacles. Davey and I will be building them.”

I looked at Davey, who had yet to say a word. “I guess you’re going to have a busy summer.”

“So I’ve heard.” Now he grinned. “This is going to be fun.”

The Poodles had finally stopped racing around the front yard. Their tongues were hanging out the sides of their mouths, but they all looked pleased with themselves. Kevin picked himself up off the ground. I could see the grass stains on his shorts, but he was smiling too.

“Is there cake?” he asked.

Aunt Peg snorted under her breath. “What do you think?”

“I think there’s always cake at your house,” Davey said.

“You might be right about that. Let’s go inside and see what we can find.”

Though the exterior of Aunt Peg’s house was rustic, the interior was totally up-to-date. Her kitchen was a large airy space. Its high ceiling held a big fan that was turning in lazy circles. A wide picture window in the front wall let in plenty of light. Davey and Kevin took seats at the butcher-block table in the middle of the room. The Poodles ran to the two water bowls near the back door.

I waited until all four dogs had taken a drink, then I picked up the bowls and refilled them. The Poodles found cool spots to stretch out on the floor. Aunt Peg had gone straight to the refrigerator. The door was open, and she had her head stuck inside.

“I see plenty of fresh fruit,” she said. “Also a dozen eggs and a gallon of milk. Will that do?”

Kevin looked dismayed. But also determined. “Cake!” he cried.

“Excuse me.” I was making myself at home with the coffeemaker on the counter, but I took a moment to turn and look at him. “Is that any way to make a request?”

“Please?” Kev added. I continued to look at him until he tried again. “Pretty please?”

“You’re getting closer,” I said.

“Please, Aunt Peg, may I have a piece of cake?”

I started to smile, then Davey spoke up.

“Me too,” he said with a smirk.

My gaze shifted his way. “Perhaps you should take a moment to think about how many more teenage years you’re going to spend with your parents before you leave for college. And about how long your parents can make those years feel.”

Davey quickly got the point. “Please, Aunt Peg, may I have a piece of cake too?”

“I should hope so,” she said, straightening as she emerged from the fridge with a large white box in her hands. “This chocolate fudge cake is too big for me to finish by myself. You boys had better help out.”

Davey and Kevin were more than happy to comply. I served the drinks—milk for the boys, coffee for me, and a cup of Earl Grey tea for Aunt Peg—while she sectioned off four wide slices of cake. Then we all dug in with gusto.

Kevin sighed happily. “We should have cake every morning.”

I noticed that Joker had gotten up and sidled over to position himself beside Kevin’s chair. Aunt Peg would never allow begging at the table. But even without a nudge from the puppy, Kevin still might slip him something when he thought no one was looking.

I caught my son’s eye. “You know chocolate is bad for dogs, right? You wouldn’t want to make Joker sick.”

Kev’s head swiveled my way. He did his best to look innocent. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Of course you weren’t,” I agreed. “I’m just making conversation.”

Aunt Peg nodded. She’d noticed the same thing, but I’d beaten her to the punch. “After you boys finish your cake, why don’t you go down to the garage and check out the supplies I’ve bought for the course?”

“Sounds good.” Davey was already push. . .