Chow Down (A Melanie Travis Mystery)

was what the others seemed to think.
    Sam retrieved some tools from the tack box; he began to fluff Eve’s tail with a comb. Bertie went back to packing up her things. They all had jobs to do and I just stood there worrying.
    I should have found Aunt Peg’s words reassuring but instead they had the opposite effect. My aunt loves to solve problems. She’s a master at digging around for clues and ferreting out hidden motivations. She’s endlessly curious about what other people are up to and she tends to think that their secrets are fair game.
    So the fact that she didn’t want to discuss my concerns about Crawford was worrisome. It made me think that maybe she knew a whole lot more about the subject than I did. And that maybe what she knew wasn’t good.
    Thanks to Sam and Peg’s dedication to the cause of Poodle pulchritude, Eve looked like a star in the group. Unfortunately, the judge, Harry Bumgartner, didn’t notice. Rather quickly he put up the Shiba Inu, followed by the Dalmatian, the Schipperke, and the Boston Terrier. The rest of us were thanked for our participation and politely sent on our way.
    That small disappointment, however, did nothing to detract from the triumph I’d felt earlier. At long last, Eve was a champion. She was the second I had finished all by myself, and the second produced by her dam, Faith. Those accomplishments were more than enough to keep me smiling for the long drive home to Connecticut.

16
    T hat evening, there was another email from the contest committee waiting for me when I turned on my computer. Once again, Faith and I were being summoned to a test of the Poodle’s suitability to represent Chow Down. This one would take place on Tuesday in Manhattan.
    The five finalists and their owners were going to be transported to Central Park where the judges planned to observe how members of the dog food–buying public responded to each of the different contestants. The judges also wanted to see how the dogs comported themselves in a new and unfamiliar environment, as that was something they’d be subjected to regularly if chosen to fill the role of spokesdog.
    I read the email through twice, then sat back in my chair and sighed. It was beginning to look as though my entire summer vacation was going to be taken over by this silly contest.
    “Something the matter?” asked Sam. He walked into the bedroom and sat down on the bed.
    Davey was still with Bob, he wouldn’t be returning until the next afternoon; but Sam wasn’t alone. As usual, he was trailed by a procession of Poodles. One thing about owning a dog: you never lacked for company.
    “Not really. It’s just annoying. Though perfectly predictable, I suppose.”
    “Chow Down?”
    I nodded. “Faith and I have been summoned again. We’re going into the city on Tuesday.”
    Sam leaned forward and read over my shoulder. “It’s an interesting idea, I suppose. But what if you guys don’t draw any response at all? This is New York we’re talking about. Everyone from rock stars to Donald Trump wanders around there on a daily basis. A group of people with five nice looking dogs? Nothing unusual about that. You might not even get noticed.”
    I clicked the email closed and signed off. “I hope we’re not meant to do stupid things to draw attention to ourselves.”
    “And, by association, the product?”
    “Right. That’s what this whole thing is about, after all, publicity. The more buzz the company creates around the product, the bigger the Chow Down launch is going to be.”
    “All those MBAs sitting over at Champions Dog Food are no dummies,” said Sam.
    “And this is only the beginning. Doug Allen mentioned something about a press conference and maybe an appearance on a morning show.”
    Sam reached over, laid both hands on my shoulders, and began to knead the knotted muscles gently. “I’d imagine the contest committee must be thrilled at the extra press they’re getting from the coverage of Larry Kim’s death. Now that the police have finally decided to open an investigation, the papers have been all over the story. And every time some reporter writes a piece about it, they mention Champions Dog Food and the Chow Down contest.”
    “Somehow I don’t think that’s the kind of attention they were hoping for.”
    “I disagree,” said Sam. “What those marketing types really want is brand recognition. And that involves getting their name in front of the public as often as possible. The context