Chow Down (A Melanie Travis Mystery)

previous year over a Scottie puppy. I considered the fact that Doug had shown up within seconds of Larry’s fall and yet somehow managed not to see anything. And I decided to ask another question.
    “How long have you known the Kims?”
    He looked around quickly. “What do you mean?”
    It seemed like a relatively simple question to me. It was interesting that he didn’t have a similarly simple answer.
    “When did you first meet?”
    “Last week. Monday morning it must have been. You know, at the opening reception.”
    In the space of mere seconds he’d gone from being confused by the question to being so sure of his answer that he’d felt compelled to give it three times.
    “The day that Larry Kim died.”
    “Right.”
    “So you hadn’t had any prior contact with them?”
    Doug paused to ponder his reply. “I imagine I might have spoken with them after Yoda was named as one of our finalists,” he said after a minute. “Just like I spoke with you.”
    The difference wasn’t lost on me. Doug remembered speaking with me. He merely imagined he might have spoken with the Kims. My ego is pretty healthy but even I know I’m not necessarily that memorable.
    “So then—”
    “Sorry,” said Doug. He quickly rose. “I’ve got to go see what Cindy wants.”
    The product manager was standing on the dirt path with Ben and Brando. Though she was gazing in our direction, I wouldn’t have guessed from that fact that she wanted anything.
    It didn’t matter. Doug was already gone, striding away across the field.
    And I was left to wonder why my questions had made him so uncomfortable.

    After that, things wrapped up pretty quickly. The contest committee decided that they’d seen enough. Unfortunately, if the judges had formed any opinions about which of the finalists might be best suited to fill the position, they weren’t sharing the news with us.
    Our group had been giddy with enthusiasm and anticipation on our way into the park. Exiting, we were more subdued. Actually, I think most of us were just tired. The bus was waiting where we’d left it. One by one, we climbed onboard gratefully.
    “Well,” said Allison Redding, grabbing a seat next to me and Faith, “that was loads of fun, wasn’t it?”
    As Bill and Ginger had settled into a seat across the aisle, I looked over to make sure she wasn’t talking to them. Neither her dog nor her husband was paying any attention to her. I took that to mean that the perky comment had been addressed to me.
    “Loads,” I agreed. I’m afraid my level of excitement didn’t quite match hers.
    “Come on”—she poked my arm and bounced in her seat—“admit it. It was nice to do something that made Ginger and Faith look like a couple of stars.”
    There was that.
    Allison’s voice dropped. “You were watching the others. I know because I was, too. Did you see Brando snarl at that little boy with the catcher’s mitt? Ben covered it up pretty well, but I’m pretty sure that Simone noticed. And speaking of Simone, who died and left her queen? The way she was always bossing everyone around and telling them what to do? It was enough to really get on my nerves.”
    Actually, though I’d seen Simone interacting with the other contestants throughout the day, for the most part, she’d left Faith and me alone. At the time, I hadn’t thought much about it, but now I found myself wondering if she’d avoided us on purpose. A signal to the rest of the committee about whom she favored and whom she didn’t? Or maybe she’d simply wanted to dodge my propensity for asking questions.
    “Now Cindy . . .” Allison was still talking. Apparently I didn’t even have to respond to keep the flow of words coming. “She’s someone I think I could really be friends with. She loved watching Ginger play with her ball. Did you know she has a Border Collie named Gus that’s a disc dog? How cool is that?”
    While Allison chattered and bounced beside me, I was leaning against the back of the seat with my eyes half-closed. Faith had given up any pretense of interest in our surroundings. The front half of her body was draped across my lap and she was sound asleep, her body rising and falling with each rhythmic snore.
    “They all have dogs,” I said. Adding a small amount of input to the conversation seemed like the polite thing to do.
    “All who?”
    “The judges. They all have dogs, not just Cindy.”
    “I guess that makes sense, doesn’t it? I mean, why work for a dog food