Chow Down (A Melanie Travis Mystery)

to get his teeth around it, then lifted his head in success and carried the glove directly back to his delighted owner. Well done.
    I was smiling when I turned away from the ring and spotted Bill and Allison standing together behind the row of seated spectators. Beside them was a wire crate. Inside the crate, Ginger was curled up, asleep, on a thick sheepskin pad.
    Bill saw me coming as I approached. He lifted a hand in greeting. “Melanie, right?”
    “That’s right. It’s nice to see you both again. How’s Ginger doing today?”
    The Brittany opened one eye briefly at the sound of her name. She looked up, saw nothing that required her attention, then tuned us back out. Clearly accustomed to the rigors of competition, Ginger knew enough to grab some rest when she could get it.
    “She’s great,” Allison replied eagerly. Everything the Reddings said and did seemed to be delivered with enthusiasm. “She aced the Open B class this morning. Now we’re just waiting for our turn in Utility.”
    “Which one of you shows her?” I asked curiously.
    “That would be me,” Bill replied. “At least in obedience. We use a professional handler for breed.”
    “I get too nervous,” said Allison. The two of them spoke so quickly that they seemed to be finishing each other’s sentences. “Obedience is tough, every little move you make matters.”
    “I’ve tried to tell her it’s no big deal,” Bill said. “What’s the worst that could happen? Ginger already has her OTCH, and besides there’s always another day and another dog show—”
    “But I want her to be the best every single time,” Allison said with a small laugh. “And that means everything has to go just right. I’m always afraid I’ll give the wrong signal, or start with the wrong foot, or trip over a mat.”
    Bill smiled and shook his head. Clearly, he didn’t take his wife’s fears too seriously. “The truth of the matter is, Ginger’s such an old hand that she could probably show herself.”
    “That’s just Bill talking. He doesn’t like to take too much credit for himself. The real truth is, Ginger never would have gotten as far as she has without him.”
    “I’m with you,” I said to Allison. “I found showing in obedience to be much harder than competing in the breed ring. There were so many little things I had to keep track of that I found the whole experience pretty nerve wracking.”
    “Were you showing Faith?” asked Bill.
    I nodded and the two of them exchanged a look.
    “I didn’t realize your Poodle had competed in obedience, too,” Allison said. “We thought Faith was just a breed champion.”
    Just a breed champion. Well that got my hackles up. Even if Faith wasn’t as well rounded as Ginger, having a breed championship was still a pretty big accomplishment.
    “Sometimes Allison speaks before she thinks,” Bill said quickly. “She didn’t mean that the way it sounded. We were just surprised, that’s all.”
    “Faith’s full of surprises,” I said cryptically. Let them worry about that for a while. We stood and watched the action in the ring for a few minutes. When there was a brief break between competitors, I said, “Do you mind if I ask you two a couple of questions?”
    Bill checked on Ginger. Now the Brittany had her nose tucked beneath one of her paws and was snoring softly.
    “Nah,” he said. “It looks like we’re going to be here a while. Shoot.”
    “Last Monday, when we were all at Champions, did you leave as soon as the meeting was over, or did you hang around afterward to talk to the judges?”
    Bill slid a quick glance over at Allison. For once, neither one of them was in a hurry to speak first. Or maybe they were checking with each other to see what their story was going to be.
    And wasn’t it interesting that they would feel the need to concoct a story at all?
    “I guess you’re talking about when Larry died,” said Allison. “What a shock that was. We’d just been sitting in a room talking to him only moments earlier . . . and bang, just like that, he was gone. Something like that makes you really stop and appreciate every single day, doesn’t it?”
    I nodded but didn’t speak. Just because Allison was busy trying to change the subject didn’t mean that I was going to help her do so.
    “Let me see . . .” Bill stroked his chin thoughtfully. He looked less like a man who was trying to remember than like a play actor who was trying to convey that idea.
    Come on folks, I