Black Ribbon

printed carefully, I’d soon be unable to decipher what I wrote, I took brief, careful notes about possible grounds for AKC suspension, reprimands, and fines. From the Gazette and from memory, I made notes of particulars, most of which were irrelevant to my purpose. If anyone at Waggin’ Tail had committed any of the obvious AKC crimes, I’d certainly have heard by now. No one was guilty of any of the dramatic offenses for which people had been publicly shamed in the Secretary’s Pages of the Gazette: No one had kicked a judge, shouted obscenities at a steward, or thrown a grooming table at another exhibitor. In search of subtle or private transgression, I studied the AKC rules pertaining to shows, the guidelines for conformation and obedience judges, and, for perhaps the millionth time in my life, the obedience regulations. From the beginning, it was clear that the person most likely to have risked reprimand or suspension was Eva Spitteler herself. Hers was the dog most likely to have caused a problem at a show, and it was easy to imagine Eva using abusive language to a fellow exhibitor, starting an altercation with an official, or arguing about a judge’s decision. As I already knew, exhibitors were forbidden to threaten judges and to question their decisions. Judges were absolutely and repeatedly forbidden to solicit judging assignments. In all respects, the behavior of judges was supposed to be above reproach. Eric Grimaldi and Phyllis Abbott had judged at the Passaic show. Ginny, a tracking judge, had been an exhibitor.
    As I was castigating myself for not having been there myself, a sharp rapping on the cabin door awakened Rowdy, who leaped up, wagged his tail, bounced around, and pointed his nose toward the source of the sound.
    I opened the door to Phyllis Abbott. She stepped only a few feet inside, shook Rowdy’s outstretched paw, and said, “I can’t stay. I just stopped in to give you a message. You’re supposed to call home. Maxine asked me to tell you.”
    My heart raced.
    Kimi.
    Five minutes later, I was in the stuffy phone booth frantically dialing my own number. Before Leah had finished saying hello, I demanded, “Is Kimi all right?”
    “Would you relax?” my cousin said.
    “I’ll try.”
    “We were going to talk later. Remember? After I read the magazines? Well, it’s later, okay?”
    “Okay. So what’d you find?”
    “About two million ads for dogs, a hundred boring articles about the search for a new AKC president when what’s his name retires. It’s supposed to be soon. All this stuff about qualifications, knowledge of dogs, business management skills versus dog stuff, lots of that kind of thing.”
    “Yes, but—”
    “It’s not ‘yes, but.’ That’s why I called. Most of what I found is stuff we already knew—who was at Passaic, that kind of thing. But then two of the gossip columns had... Well, one of them said something about this Donald Abbott and John White—”
    “John R.B.,” I said.
    “Yes. And so I sort of read between the lines, and then I called your father.”
    “You called Buck?”
    “Yes. And he says he heard the same thing.”
    “What thing?”
    “About this guy Donald Abbott.”
    “What about him?”
    “That he’s in line. Or really, he thinks he’s in line. And that’s why he’s doing all this politicking. He’s working on it.”
    “In line for...?”
    “He wants to be president of the AKC.”
    “That’s ridiculous,” I said.
    “That’s what Buck thinks, too.”
    “Well, Buck is right,” I said.
    But after I hung up, while I was charging down the steps of the lodge on my way to my cabin to change for dinner, I almost collided with Don Abbott, who said heartily, “Well, you’re full of energy, aren’t you? Good for you! Go get dressed, and come back up and enjoy yourself. I always say: You can’t keep dog people down for long.”
    It was, of course, exactly what someone had done to Eva Spitteler.
     

 
    IF I’D BEEN THE POLICE, I’d have questioned everyone. I, for example, had a lot to say.
    So what else is new?
    Truly. If properly interrogated, I’d have told all. (Nice dog you got there , lady. Be a shame to separate the two of you.) But according to the rumors that spread from table to table at dinner that night, instead of making interesting and productive use of my loyalty by frightening me into revealing the secrets of the Order, the police had frittered away their time extracting dull facts about the A-frame