Chow Down (A Melanie Travis Mystery)

I’d been entangled in so many mysteries, that I’d begun to see evidence of wrongdoing where it didn’t even exist.
    Belatedly I realized that Lisa was still holding the glass door. I reached out and took it from her.
    “You and Faith are having your private interview this morning?” she asked.
    “Right.” I glanced at my watch. “We’re running a little late.”
    “Don’t worry, I was just up there. The Reddings had the appointment ahead of yours and they seemed to have a lot to say. I’m sure nobody’s noticed that you haven’t arrived yet.”
    “So you came to speak to the contest committee. Does that mean you’ll be withdrawing Yoda from the competition?”
    Nothing I’d said earlier—offering my condolences, describing what I knew of her husband’s fall, implying it might not have been an accident—had thrown Lisa. This did.
    “Pardon me?” she said.
    “I just thought that since—”
    “You thought wrong.” Lisa didn’t wait for me to finish. “Yoda is a strong competitor and so am I. She is still very much a finalist in the contest.” Her eyes dropped to Faith, waiting patiently by my side. “Your Poodle may yet be the winner, but we won’t be conceding the victory. She will have to beat us to get the prize.”
    Rather than jamming my foot any farther into my mouth, I simply said, “Good luck to you.”
    “And to you,” Lisa replied. “May the best dog win.”

    Upstairs I found that the committee was indeed waiting for us. And they had noticed we were late—at least Doug Allen had.
    Not wanting to revisit the stairwell, Faith and I ended up taking the elevator again. The Poodle looked at me reproachfully as I steered her in that direction. As soon as the doors opened on the third floor, she went bounding out into the hallway. And straight into Doug, who was walking by.
    “Well hello!” he said, nimbly sidestepping a canine charge that might have felled a slower man. “I’d been wondering where you two were. It’s nice to see one of our finalists arrive with such enthusiasm.”
    I didn’t feel the need to mention that Faith’s eagerness had less to do with the contest or Champions dog food than it did with exiting the dreaded elevator.
    “Sorry we’re late. I ran into Lisa downstairs and I wanted to offer my condolences.”
    “Lisa Kim?” Doug looked surprised. “I didn’t realize she was here.”
    “She said she’d been up here . . . She mentioned seeing the Reddings . . . ?” My voice trailed away. This all looked like news to Doug.
    He quickly rallied, however. “I’m sorry I missed her. This has to be very difficult for her. I would have wanted to offer my support as well. We at Champions are ready to do anything we can to ease her way through this terrible time.”
    Spoken like a true marketing man. Or maybe like a vice president who was concerned that his company might find itself with some liability in Larry’s death. I wondered whether Doug’s offer of support would be intended to mitigate the possibility that Lisa might decide to seek financial compensation.
    Then I had another thought. Doug was the one who’d steered me to the fine print when I had tried to drop out of the contest. No doubt Yoda’s withdrawal under these circumstances would generate even more adverse publicity.
    Doug had never been shy about voicing his determination to do what was best for his company. He said he hadn’t seen Lisa that morning, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t spoken to her previously. I wondered if he’d offered her some sort of incentive to keep the little Yorkie as a participant in the contest. And whether perhaps the rest of us were now competing for second place.
    “Faith and I had better be going,” I said. “I believe we’re supposed to see Simone Dorsey first?”
    “Down the hall and to the left. Last office on the right. I’m sure she’s waiting for you.”
    Since I’d known we’d be meeting with Simone that morning, I’d taken extra care with my appearance. Rather than my usual summer outfit of shorts and a T-shirt, I’d actually donned a skirt and put on a little makeup. My efforts didn’t help. Rising from behind her desk to greet us as we entered her office, the PR director still made me feel like I hadn’t tried hard enough.
    As before, Simone appeared cool and poised. The designer dress she was wearing probably cost more than I’d spent on clothes in a year. A scarf was tied jauntily around her shoulders. It didn’t come