Chow Down (A Melanie Travis Mystery)

go to a dog show in support of Sam and Tar. While I was there I’d also be helping Bertie with the three Poodles she was going to be handling. Nobody gets a free ride around here.
    The show was outdoors, held on the polo grounds in Farmington, Connecticut. Luckily we got perfect weather for the event: warm, sunny, and not too humid. One thing about dog shows; nothing short of an oncoming tornado will shut one down. Over the years, I’ve shown through high winds, unexpected sleet, and near-flood conditions. A perfect dog show day is a rarity, and it was more than enough to put all of us in a good mood.
    “All” referred to Sam and me, Aunt Peg, Bertie, and Maggie. Davey was with his father for the weekend, and Frank was tending to business at The Bean Counter. There was no way, however, that Bertie could give a string of a dozen dogs the professional handling job they deserved and take care of a six-month-old baby at the same time. That was where Aunt Peg came in. She had volunteered to baby-sit.
    Even if I hadn’t had other reasons for being at the show, I’d have come just to watch that. At the best of times, Aunt Peg can be a dubious influence on those around her. When it comes to managing children, any parents in the vicinity had better sit up and pay attention.
    When Davey had been in my aunt’s care, she’d been known to feed him mountains of sweets and encourage him to disregard any inconvenient rules. Most of the time, she treated him like he was simply a height-challenged adult. Of course Davey adored her all the more for it. Which was a constant reminder that I probably don’t know as much about parenting as I’d like to think I do.
    When we arrived at the show, Bertie, Maggie, and Aunt Peg had already been there for several hours. I knew Bertie had had a pair of English Cockers to show at nine AM , but Poodles weren’t scheduled until after lunch. I figured I’d allowed plenty of time to make myself useful on Bertie’s behalf.
    Aunt Peg didn’t agree.
    “You two must have slept late this morning,” she said when Sam backed his SUV up to the side of the grooming tent and we began unloading our gear. Bertie was nowhere in sight but she’d left Aunt Peg in charge.
    “We did,” Sam replied with a cheerful wink. Nothing Peg says ever ruffles his feathers. “That’s the beauty of having only one dog to show.”
    “I’m not showing any and I still managed to get here bright and early.”
    “That’s because you had a job to do . . .” My voice trailed away. Aunt Peg was staring at me rather rudely. I couldn’t decide whether she looked fascinated or horrified.
    “What on earth happened to you?” she asked.
    “Nothing.”
    Sam was stacking crates. He looked over, reached up, and patted his head. I still didn’t get it. He fingered his hair and lifted a brow. The lightbulb went off. I pirouetted with a smile and showed off my new hairdo.
    “Terry happened to me,” I said. “Do you like it?”
    “I don’t know. It’s a big change. I might have to think about it.”
    “I didn’t have to think about it,” said Sam. Passing by on his way back to the car, he tousled my hair with his hand. “I loved it right away.”
    “You’re supposed to,” Peg informed him. “That’s your job.”
    Maybe in a parallel universe, I thought. When it came to marriage Aunt Peg was clearly an optimist.
    “Speaking of jobs . . .” I cast a quick glance around the jumble of tables and crates. “You haven’t lost Maggie, have you?”
    “Certainly not. I know precisely where my namesake is. She’s taking her midday nap.”
    Between the generators that powered blow dryers and radios, and the constant babble of conversation, you might have thought that the noise level alone would have precluded napping under the grooming tent. But I’d seen my niece in action. When Maggie wanted to sleep she was oblivious to all outside influences.
    Sam paused in the act of unfolding the legs on his portable grooming table. “Where?” he asked, which saved me the trouble of doing the same.
    Aunt Peg gestured toward a medium-sized wooden crate in a lower row. “Bertie was hoping to set up a playpen but there wasn’t room under the tent and she didn’t want Maggie out in the sun, so we had to make do.”
    I stooped down and peered into the crate through the mesh doorway. Blissfully asleep within, Maggie wasn’t at all perturbed by her unusual surroundings. She was snuggled contentedly in her baby seat, with