Black Ribbon

Eric, no longer amused, “just what—?”
    I spoke only to Phyllis. No, that’s not quite right. I addressed only her conscience: “ ‘An individual’s success as a judge rests on the basic attributes of good character and knowledge.’ ”
    Attracted by the hubbub and probably by some sense of oddity in the air, Cam, Ginny, Maxine, Don Abbott, and six or eight other people had made their way down to the little pebble beach. Phyllis still faced away from us, toward Elsa and toward the lake.
    “Mrs. Abbott,” I continued, “I have always had the highest respect for you as an obedience judge. I have always found you to be one of the most knowledgeable, impartial, fair, responsible, and otherwise altogether estimable judges ever to enter an obedience ring. And, you know, when AKC says that judges represent the entire sport? I take that seriously. And I want to know something. Judges are allowed to discuss the regulations, right? It’s part of your responsibility: to help people learn. So, is this mess really how you want to represent what we’re about? Is this really it? Because if it is—”
    Don Abbott’s deep voice boomed over mine. “Phyllis,” he told his wife, “turn around and get out of the water! You are contributing to a scene!”
    “Mrs. Abbott can speak for herself,” I said.
    “She can’t, you know.” The voice was Cam’s, as calm and controlled as ever.
    “She certainly can,” Don Abbott proclaimed, “and she can get out of that lake this minute. Phyllis, you are making a fool of yourself. Get out of there!”
    “Leave her alone!” Cam told him. “The whole thing is your fault! Left to her own devices, Phyllis would never in this world have put me or herself or anyone else in anything even remotely resembling a compromising position! Phyllis didn’t ask to judge that runoff! She was appointed! You were the one who had to go and make sure that you got John’s ear and that once you had, you held it. You were the one who schemed and finagled and made damn well sure that John had no choice but to invite you home. I wish I’d never entered Passaic! You know, I deserved that trophy! I earned it! And now I wish that Sandy Battista had taken it home, after all.”
    Lost? I was, too. Turning to me, his face stubborn and ugly, Don said, “I don’t remember you!”
    “My name is Holly Winter. I’m in the other unit in your—”
    Cam, who’d understood him, said, “Don, Holly wasn’t even at Passaic.” She paused. “Were you?”
    “No,” I said.
    “Well,” Cam said, “count your blessings. The rest of us should’ve stayed home, too. I don’t know how you got involved in this, but the whole mess was Don’s fault. We earned that one ninety-nine! How was Phyllis supposed to know that we’d end up tied for High in Trial? If she’d planned it, she’d have had a hard time pulling it off!”
    “That’s what the trophy was for,” I said. “High in Trial.” Cam looked surprised, as if I should already have known. I went on. “You had two legs. Did Sandy?”
    “Yes. With her old dog. The one she’s showing now is just getting started, Ogden. He’s good. Obviously. Tied for High in Trial out of Novice B? One ninety-nine. Sandy was surprised.”
    “Easy judge?” I asked.
    “Easier than Phyllis,” Cam said. “Mr. McWhorter.”
    Let me remind you that Phyllis Abbott, clad in pajamas, a kimono, and bedroom slippers, was still standing in the lake. She had stopped calling to Elsa, who still hadn’t come out of the water. At the time, however, I had no sense of the surrealism of the conversation, and I don’t think that Cam did, either. Both of us spoke our lines as if we’d memorized them.
    “And Phyllis judged the runoff,” I said. “You won. You won for the third time, so you retired the trophy. And the runoff was very close. Nicky was good. Sandy’s dog must’ve done really well, too.”
    Cam corrected me. “That sit was crooked. I don’t know what anyone told you, but I was right there, and that sit was crooked. I saw it. If you’d been the judge, you’d’ve taken off a half-point, too.”
    “And then you and Phyllis left together. In your van?” Cam nodded.
    “All four of you.You and John R.B., Don and Phyllis. And Eva followed Phyllis. She pursued her. She followed her out to the parking lot. And she’d watched the runoff for High in Trial.”
    And that, of course, is what my dream meant. Tie your dogs so they don’t run off. When two handlers