Chow Down (A Melanie Travis Mystery)

note, too. They’d sized up the competition and decided who they had to beat, and Eve was at the head of the list.
    Mrs. Raines sent us all the way around the ring to the end of the line, but we didn’t remain there for long. Almost immediately she beckoned us forward, waving us to the opposite mat to start a new line. As she made the rest of her selections and Poodles filled in the spots behind us, I took a moment to glance outside the ring.
    Aunt Peg was frowning, but that wasn’t unusual when I was handling. I’d learned not to take it personally. Bertie was trying to watch, but she was also busy wrangling the two puppies who were trying to play with a nearby Briard. Only Sam, standing with his arms crossed over his chest and gazing in our direction, looked supremely confident.
    He caught my eye and dropped one lid in a broad wink. Having fun yet? he mouthed.
    I grinned in reply, just as the judge stepped back to the head of the line.
    “I’d smile, too, if she was my Poodle,” she said. Then she lifted her hand and pointed to each of us in turn, awarding the class placements. “I’ll take them just as they are. One, two, three, four!”
    Quickly I hustled Eve over to the first-place marker. That she’d won the Open class was great. It meant that we’d already defeated a significant portion of the competition. But now Eve needed to defeat the winners of each of the earlier bitch classes to secure the points.
    The puppy winner and the American-Bred bitch that had defeated Bertie filed back into the ring. The judge marked her book, then handed me a blue ribbon, which I stashed in my pocket. Then I swung Eve back into the lineup. As winner of the Open class, the place of honor in the front was hers by right.
    At this point in the competition, the judge has already seen each of the entrants before. Usually they have a pretty good idea of who they’re planning to put up for the points. But occasionally they’re still debating the outcome; either that or else they want to ratchet up the suspense. In that case, they’ll judge the Winners class almost from scratch. Despite the fact that Mrs. Raines obviously liked Eve, this was not the time to take anything for granted.
    Since the routine had worked for us earlier, I didn’t stack my Poodle this time, either. Instead I stood back and let her free bait. I stepped out of line and angled my body slightly in the judge’s direction so that Eve, while looking at me, could also focus on Mrs. Raines.
    Of course the problem with that was that now I had my back to the judge. Good handlers pick up a lot of information by watching the judge. Approval or disapproval can often be read in expressions or body language. And some judges use hand signals rather than their voices to advise the exhibitors what they want them to do next. So I was placing myself in a somewhat vulnerable position.
    On the other hand Eve was baiting like the champion I hoped she soon would be. Standing square and tall, she cocked her head and watched my hands with an expression of rapt attention. Hopefully Mrs. Raines, whom I couldn’t see, was noticing my Poodle’s performance.
    “Take them around, please.”
    I flipped Eve the piece of dried liver I was holding in my hand and turned to face front. Pausing only long enough to make sure that the two handlers behind me were ready to go, I shot the Poodle out to the end of the leash and took off at a brisk trot. This was the part Eve liked best, flying around the ring in a spectacular, showy fashion, and daring anyone to believe that she wasn’t the best.
    As for me, I just tried not to lose my footing in the tight corners of the ring and to stay out of the way. This was Eve’s moment to shine; my job was merely to remain inconspicuous.
    Mrs. Raines gazed quickly up and down the line. Then her focus returned to Eve and stayed there for the remainder of the circuit. Her hand raised and my heart leapt.
    “Winners Bitch,” she said. Her finger pointed in our direction.
    Someone screamed a little. I’m afraid it might have been me.
    Eve bounded into the air, landed on the mat, and then bounced up again. The second time I caught her in my arms and hugged her tight. I was crushing her carefully coifed hair but for the first time in nearly two years, I didn’t care.
    I had a brand new champion.

14
    E ve and I exited the ring just long enough for the judge to award Reserve Winners to the next most deserving bitch. Actually we kind of danced