Chow Down (A Melanie Travis Mystery)

pair. Owner and dog were both trim and muscular. Brando’s compact body was enhanced by his fawn coloring, set off to perfection by the dark mask that covered his muzzle and eyes. Looking at the duo, I wondered whether Ben had timed his arrival to the minute, choosing to be last and make a dramatic entrance into an already full room.
    “Here we are, everybody accounted for,” Ben continued cheerfully. “You must be Doug. We spoke on the phone. Brando and I are thrilled to be included in your happy group.” He managed to subtly shoulder me aside and stuck out his hand. “I know the rest of the participants, but perhaps you might introduce me to your colleagues?”
    While Doug took care of that, I walked Faith over to a sideboard where tea and coffee were being served. Next to the drinks were three silver serving trays. One held cookies, the second an assortment of muffins, the third was filled with dog biscuits.
    Faith was just below eye level with the offerings on the table. She lifted her nose and sniffed the air, but didn’t ask for a biscuit. Clearly the Champions products didn’t meet the standards of her finicky palate.
    As soon as the introductions were finished, we all found seats around the large conference table. I placed Faith in a down-stay on the floor beside my chair. Allison Redding followed suit with Ginger. Ben unhooked Brando’s leash and left the Boxer free to wander the room.
    Larry Kim, his hands full with Yoda, hadn’t taken a cup of coffee. Now, when he sat at the table, his dog was the only one still readily visible to the committee members. Dorothy caught on to that fact at the same time I did. She deliberately chose a chair that had another empty one beside it.
    Like Miniature and Toy Poodles, Scotties are shown on top of grooming tables, so I was quite sure that MacDuff was accustomed to finding himself plopped on top of things and expected to stay. As I watched, Dorothy lifted the small dog and placed him on the padded leather seat. The Scottie balanced himself on his haunches as she pushed the chair in.
    When it reached the table, MacDuff lifted both front legs, placed them on the polished wooden edge, and put his wiry black muzzle down between his paws. His dark eyes looked up and around the assembled group, gazing at each of us as if he was simply another participant in the meeting.
    Now that was cute.
    Simone pulled out a small pad of paper and made an unobtrusive note. Dorothy looked complacently pleased. Ben rolled his eyes. Lisa Kim was smiling. Really, it was hard not to. Then Larry caught his wife’s eye and glared. Immediately her eyes dropped to the hands she’d folded in her lap.
    “Well MacDuff,” Doug said jovially. “What do you say? Shall we call this meeting to order?”
    Let the games begin.

6
    “L et’s start by introducing ourselves again,” Doug said. “Since most of us are meeting for the first time, I think it would be a good idea if we each took a minute to talk about who we are, what we do, and why Champions dog food is important to us.”
    He paused and looked expectantly around the table. Everyone nodded in agreement except MacDuff who seemed to be eyeing a muffin Chris had placed next to his laptop.
    “Since I’m the contest chairperson, I’ll start. I’m also vice president of marketing for Champions Dog Food, which means that I’m the one in charge of telling the world that we manufacture the best canine nutritional products on earth.”
    Doug sounded as peppy as a high school cheerleader, and I found myself grinning at his extravagant job description. Nothing like a little hyperbole to get the meeting off to a good start. Then I looked around the table and realized that everyone else was taking his pronouncements seriously. Oops.
    He nodded to Simone, who was seated at his right.
    “Simone Dorsey,” she said. Her tone was flat, modulated. “I’m director of public relations. My job is to keep this company and our products in front of the public eye, so that when the time comes for people to choose a healthy, balanced diet for their dogs, they’ll think of us first. This contest was my idea, and I think we’ve come up with five superb finalists. Any one of your dogs would make a fine representative for Chow Down dog food.”
    This time everyone smiled when she finished speaking. I was relieved to join in; finally I was beginning to catch on to the important cues.
    Chris Hovick went next. “Hey,” he said, sketching a small wave