Chow Down (A Melanie Travis Mystery)

Faith and I would need to leave home shortly after five. Which meant getting up around four thirty. Oh joy.
    “What will we be doing between six thirty and eight thirty?”
    “Oh, you know, the usual. Having your hair and makeup done. Eating bagels in the green room, chatting with the other stars that are appearing that day . . .”
    I guessed I was supposed to be seeing those things as incentives.
    “We’re talking about live television here, so they can’t afford for anything to go wrong. The producers like to get everyone in place early just to make sure that there are no last minute slipups.”
    I thought about Ben, for whom punctuality didn’t seem to be a strong suit. Then I thought about Lisa, who might not appear at all. I wondered what Doug intended to do about that.
    “What about Lisa?” I asked.
    “What about her?”
    “Have you spoken with her?”
    There was a pause, as if maybe Doug was wondering why I thought that was any of my business. I waited him out.
    “Not yet,” he said finally. “I’m still trying to reach her.”
    “You know she’s missing, right?”
    “No.” His tone was firm. “I don’t know that.”
    He was lying and I wondered why. Was Doug simply trying to put a good face on things, or was he covering up something he didn’t want me to know?
    “Lisa’s friend, Sue, said she spoke to you early in the week right after Lisa disappeared.”
    “I believe I may have had a brief conversation with someone . . . It seems to me that I understood there had been a mix-up in some arrangements she made with a friend . . . But, uh, nobody told me Lisa was missing . . .”
    Another lie, assuming that Sue had been telling me the truth. They were beginning to pile up now. I decided to keep prodding and see where that would lead me.
    “After we all returned from New York on the bus last Tuesday, Lisa and Yoda didn’t go back home. Nobody has seen them since. When Sue called you, she was hoping you might have some idea where Lisa had gone.”
    “Nobody has seen them since?” Doug repeated. He was beginning to sound agitated. “Are you sure about that?”
    “A friend of mine has been taking care of her dogs. If Lisa had reappeared, she would know about it. I guess this means that the police haven’t contacted you?”
    “Er . . . no. Something is going to have to be done about this, and quickly.”
    “I agree,” I said. Then Doug continued to speak and I realized we weren’t talking about the same thing at all.
    “Getting this spot on the morning show is an enormous coup for Champions Dog Food and for Chow Down. This kind of national exposure will be invaluable to our product launch and the subsequent marketing campaign. Now is not the time for Lisa to be playing games.”
    “If indeed she is,” I said quietly.
    Doug didn’t hear me; he was still talking.
    “All I can say is that we’ve promised five finalists for Monday morning and no matter what it takes, five finalists are going to appear. With or without Lisa, Yoda had better be there or heads are going to roll.”

25
    M onday morning, four thirty AM arrived all too soon.
    Even that close to the longest day of the year it was fully dark outside when my alarm sounded; the sun wouldn’t be rising for at least another hour and a half. As I climbed out of bed, Sam rolled over sleepily, opened one eye, and waved good-bye in my general direction. So much for sympathy.
    Even Faith, who normally loves to accompany me on outings, was loathe to drag herself out of bed. Or in her case, off the foot of the bed. Showered and dressed, I called to her quietly from the doorway to Davey’s room. Like Sam, the Poodle opened her eyes but didn’t stir.
    “Come on,” I whispered so as not to disturb my sleeping son. “We have things to do.”
    Since I’d devoted several hours the previous evening to clipping, bathing, and blowing her dry, I knew Faith understood that we had somewhere to go. What she didn’t understand apparently was why we needed to leave in the middle of the night.
    That made two of us, I thought grumpily.
    When I called a second time, Faith rose slowly and stretched. Looking thoroughly put upon, she hopped off the bed and padded to my side. “Nobody ever told you being famous was going to be easy,” I muttered, leading the way down the stairs.
    Ten minutes later we were on the road. Traffic was light at that hour, or at least not as bad as it would be shortly. The sun rose while we were crossing the Triboro