Chow Down (A Melanie Travis Mystery)

presence. Beagle wrapped her body around my legs, her tail curling upward over my knees.
    “It took her long enough,” I said. “Beagle usually shows up the minute we arrive.”
    “New routine,” Bertie informed me. “Now that Maggie’s crawling everywhere, that poor cat has learned she either has to stay somewhere that Maggie can’t reach or else run the risk of being mauled. Beagle is not amused. Mags means well but she thinks Beagle is the most fascinating creature on earth. And Maggie’s too young to know how to treat her respectfully.”
    Pets and new babies were always an uneasy mix. I could sympathize with what Bertie was going through. “It’ll get better as Maggie gets older.”
    “ I know that. It’s Beagle who needs to be convinced. She came to me as a stray, you know. Some days I’m half-afraid she’ll simply get fed up and take off again.”
    “Beagle? No way. She’s your cat now. She loves it here.” I reached down to give the tiger cat’s back a long scratch.
    “I hope so. And I hope everything’s okay with Crawford, too. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that it might not be, until you brought it up the other day at the show. Now you’ve got me wondering, too.”
    Bad sign, I thought. I’d been hoping that my concern was merely the product of an overactive imagination. But Bertie was much more levelheaded than I was. If she was worried, too, maybe there really was something to worry about.
    I got up, walked through the dining room, and looked out the front door. Davey and Maggie were just where we’d left them, sitting in the sun on the porch. Now they were building a pyramid out of blocks. Actually Davey was doing most of the building. Maggie was playing the part of a baby wrecking ball.
    Davey glanced up, winked at me over Maggie’s head, and went back to describing the tree house that he and Sam were building. Maggie made an appreciative audience. Heart warmed, I went back to the kitchen with a few final questions.
    “Tell me how people felt about the Kims,” I said to Bertie. In my absence, she’d pulled Beagle into her lap and was stroking the cat’s long, taut body. “Did they like them?”
    “I guess. The two of them tended to keep pretty much to themselves. You know how crowded things can get underneath a grooming tent . . .”
    I nodded.
    “Sometimes it feels like we’re all working right on top of one another. It’s hard to stay out of people’s way in a situation like that. But Larry and Lisa always seemed to hold themselves somewhat apart. I don’t know that people liked them or disliked them so much as they didn’t really know them.”
    “What about Larry? You said he was a tough competitor. Did he have any enemies?”
    “He must have,” said Bertie. “Think about it, Mel. He’s dead, isn’t he?”

9
    T here was an email waiting for me when we got home. Faith and I had been issued an invitation to the next phase of the contest competition. Individual interviews were to be held Thursday morning at the company headquarters.
    I sat and stared at the email for a minute before shooting back a reply. Obviously the fact that one of the finalists had died after the previous meeting wasn’t going to be allowed to slow down the process at all.
    Under the circumstances, I assumed that Lisa and Yoda would drop out of the competition. Doug might have held me to my commitment, but surely he would have to accept the Yorkie’s withdrawal. In any event, I didn’t expect the pair to take part in the interviews on Thursday. Which was why I was so surprised to run into Lisa when Faith and I arrived a few minutes ahead of our scheduled appointment at eleven.
    Exiting the building, Lisa saw us coming across the parking lot and paused to hold the door. She was dressed in a simple black linen sheath that fell to just above her knees. Her arms and legs were bare, and a pair of black strappy sandals set off her dainty feet.
    I wondered whether she’d chosen the outfit as a foil for her creamy skin and shiny black hair or whether the dark color was meant to show that she was in mourning. Either way, the clothing complimented her slender figure.
    Looking at her, I had the nagging impression that something was missing. After a moment I realized what it was: the little Yorkie, Yoda, was nowhere in sight. Maybe Lisa had come to the dog food company alone to tender her resignation.
    “I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said, when Faith and I reached the door.
    “Thank