Chow Down (A Melanie Travis Mystery)

company if you don’t like dogs? That would be counter-intuitive. Simone, let’s see, I could picture her with a Maltese.”
    “Pomeranian,” I said.
    Allison giggled. “That fits. Now Doug, he ought to have something sleek and kind of sexy. Maybe a German Shorthaired Pointer.”
    I tipped my head her way. “Sleek and sexy?”
    “Don’t you think so?”
    “I hadn’t really thought about it.”
    “What’s to think? Just use your eyes, for Pete’s sake.”
    If I opened my eyes fully, I thought, they’d be staring at Allison’s husband who, just for the record, was not very sleek and sexy. More like rumpled and comfortable.
    “I’m a newlywed,” I said. “I’ve stopped looking.”
    Allison reached over and patted my arm. “Time passes,” she said. “You’ll get over that.”
    I hoped not.
    “Doug has a chocolate Lab,” I said. “His kids named it Hershey.”
    “Doug is married?”
    Allison sounded surprised, and maybe a tad disappointed. Which made me think that maybe we shouldn’t be having this conversation almost within earshot of her husband.
    “I believe he’s divorced.”
    “Ahh, that makes more sense.”
    That comment got my attention. I actually opened my eyes. “Why?”
    “Because, well . . . you know.”
    No, I didn’t. I hate it when that happens.
    “I know what?”
    Allison leaned closer. Her voice, already low, dropped to a whisper. “Don’t you get the impression that he might have something going on with Simone?”
    Doug and Simone? I hadn’t picked up on that at all.
    My gaze went reflexively to the front of the bus. The pair in question were seated on opposite sides of the aisle. Simone was working on her Blackberry. Doug was talking on his cell phone. Whatever Allison thought she knew, I still wasn’t seeing it.
    “Really?”
    “Really.” Allison nodded. “They’ve got vibes.”
    “Vibes,” Bill snorted from across the aisle. I guessed he had been listening in. Maybe this was his retaliation for the “sleek and sexy” comment. “Don’t pay any attention to her. She loves all that psychic, woo-woo, mumbo jumbo stuff. She won’t even get out of bed in the morning until she’s consulted her horoscope.”
    “It’s a valuable forecast of what the day contains,” Allison said primly.
    “It’s a crock,” her husband replied.
    I was more inclined to his way of thinking. Horoscopes were fun to read, but I wouldn’t plan my life around them.
    “You just don’t get it,” said Allison.
    “Wouldn’t be the first time,” Bill agreed equitably.
    “That leaves Chris,” Allison said thoughtfully. The advertising director was sitting with the other judges up front. Allison gazed at the back of his head with a small frown. “I’m not sure I see him with a dog at all. Maybe a cat or a gerbil.”
    “A ferret,” said Bill. “Or possibly a hamster.”
    Trust me, coming from ardent dog people, these were insults.
    “What’s wrong with Chris?” I asked.
    Bill shrugged. “Don’t ask me. Miss Woo-Woo over there is the one with all the answers.”
    Miss Woo-Woo, surprisingly, didn’t seem offended by the title. I was guessing she’d heard it before.
    “Don’t you think Chris is just the tiniest bit . . . strange?” she asked.
    “In what way?”
    “For one thing, he skulks.”
    “He’s a skulker,” Bill agreed with a nod.
    “What does that mean?” I directed the question to Allison, since she was the one with the answers.
    “He’s sneaky,” she whispered. “Always kind of popping up where you least expect him. And he doesn’t like Ginger.”
    “That’s the main problem, isn’t it?” said Bill. “He’s been like that all along. Even the first time we met. It was like he never gave her a fair shot. Now I ask you, how can you like someone who doesn’t like your dog? What would be the point?”
    Words to live by, there.
    “I think Chris likes small dogs,” I said.
    “Like that’s an excuse,” Allison sniffed. “I’m telling you, there’s something the matter with him.”
    Could be they were right. At any rate, I wasn’t about to argue. I was too tired for that. Besides, all available evidence pointed to the fact that there had to be something wrong with somebody in our group. Considering how little I’d accomplished thusfar in narrowing down the list, Chris seemed as likely a suspect as anybody.
    On that happy thought, I leaned back, followed my Poodle’s example, and let the motion of the bus lull me to sleep.

19
    S ummer