Black Ribbon

fees, and who’d quit judging if judging meant abandoning all friendships in the world of dogs. Even so! The ban on travel: “Judges should not travel to or from shows or stay with anyone who is likely to be exhibiting or handling under them.” Conformation judges. The warning about social functions: “Judges should not accept invitations to social functions immediately before a show where the host or guests are likely to be exhibiting under them.” Conformation judges. But obedience judges? “A judge who has a shadow of doubt cast upon any of his decisions has caused his integrity, as well as the integrity of The American Kennel Club and of the Sport, to be compromised.”
    And I suddenly thought I knew, more or less, what Phyllis had done—almost nothing, really—and what Eva Spitteler had known. To firm up the guess, I needed a map of the area around the Passaic show site, a New Jersey map that would let me trace a route. The show site, Leah had told me, was in a place called Millington. I fished through my notes of our conversation. The Abbotts lived in a place called Chester, Cam and John R.B. White in Basking Ridge.
    “Rowdy, wake up! Good boy. Go for a walk?”
    I once had a dog named Rafe who loved to sleep. Day after day, year after year, Rafe slept through twenty-three out of every twenty-four hours. With only sixty noncomatose minutes a day in which to cram such life-sustaining activities as eating and drinking, Rafe was a challenge to train. After a while, I gave up. The only command I really needed, but needed frequently, was: “RAFE, WAKE UP!” Rafe was afraid °f everything, especially consciousness. He obeyed reluctantly. I was very patient with Rafe. Therefore, Rowdy. Karma. With one hand locked on his leather lead and the other holding a flashlight, I made my way down the steps of
    the cabin. The Abbotts’ lights were out. So were everyone else’s.
    Although no one but me was looking, Rowdy lifted his leg on every tree we passed and, in the parking lot, had to be reminded that tires were off limits. The parking lot at the Passaic show was the final scene in the narrative I was constructing. At Passaic, Eva Spitteler had entered Bingo in Novice A under Judge Phyllis Abbott. Eva had been there; she’d said so. Bingo hadn’t qualified; if he’d earned a leg, Eva would definitely have bragged about it. Consequently, Eva, who’d always groused about everything, had been disgruntled. Later, Eva had watched Cam and Nicky in Phyllis’s Open B ring; she’d said so. Eva had probably seen Phyllis hand Cam the blue first-place ribbon. At camp, Eva had intruded on the personal time of instructors. It would have been just like her to hang around the show until she found the opportunity to interrogate a judge about her dog’s score. Dutiful obedience judge that she was, Phyllis would have been willing to discuss her scoring, but she’d have avoided participating in the kind of argument that Eva would have tried to start. To avoid creating even the appearance of a dispute, she’d have skillfully cut Eva off by denying her the opportunity to cause trouble. And if Phyllis had said she was busy, she’d have been telling the truth. She’d judged Novice A and Open B; and she’d undoubtedly had friends to see and social obligations to fulfil. Her husband had been there. Don had had politicking to do. He’d been seen with John R.B. White, a young Turk at the AKC, Cam’s husband. And when Don was done with politics? He and Phyllis would have gone home together, of course. But that was the point: Don Abbott was never really done with politics. I didn’t know how Phyllis Abbott had arrived at the show. But I was willing to bet that she’d gone home with her husband, Don, and that the two had traveled with John R.B. White. And with his wife, of course, with Cam, whose dog had just gone High in Trial out of Open B.
    The U.S. atlas of road maps turned out to be wedged under the front passenger seat of my car. I pulled it out, opened to the map of New Jersey, and in the bright light of the flashlight beam, found Millington, site of the Passaic show. Basking Ridge, where Cam and John R.B. lived, was right nearby, a little north and west. Northwest of Basking Ridge was Chester, where the Abbotts lived. So who had ridden home with whom? I wasn’t sure, but my best guess was that Don and Phyllis had gone with Cam and John R.B. White, mainly because of the four people, Cam had been the only one with a