Chow Down (A Melanie Travis Mystery)

Davey.”
    “Not so fast,” I said. “We’re trying, that’s all. Nobody’s sure that anything’s been accomplished yet.”
    “It has.”
    The certainty in his tone made me pause. I tipped my head to one side thoughtfully. “What makes you say that?”
    “I was there the first time, remember? You have just the same look . . . the same glow.”
    I shook my head in automatic denial even as I felt my heart leap with hope. Might Bob know something I didn’t? Could he possibly be right?
    My hand lifted to my face. I touched my cheek, half-expecting to feel heat. When I didn’t, I felt silly.
    “I’m not glowing,” I said.
    “You are.” Again the same certain tone. Bob’s gaze drifted past me to the people in the yard. The sound of Davey’s laughter floated to us on the breeze. “You did a great job first time around. You’ll be a wonderful mother now too.”
    “How would you know? You weren’t there.”
    The words, motivated by the fear that he might be getting my hopes up for nothing, came out before I could stop them. They were unworthy of both of us.
    “My loss,” said Bob. I was happy he hadn’t taken offense. “Sam won’t make the same mistake.”
    No, he wouldn’t, I thought. Our child would be surrounded by all the love and security that two adoring parents and an older brother could provide.
    “Does he know yet?” asked Bob.
    I smiled at that. “ I don’t even know yet.”
    “Trust me.” Bob’s hand found mine. He held my fingers firmly. “If you ever need anything . . .”
    “An uncle? A baby-sitter? A godfather?”
    “Name it,” he said. “I’m your man.”
    “Funny thing about that,” said Sam, coming up beside us. “I thought I was her man.”
    Bob stood. He held up both hands, palms out. “You won’t get any argument from me. I was just telling Melanie how lucky she is.”
    I gazed up at Sam. My eyes found his in the dim light. “And I was telling him I knew that.”
    I rose to join them and my stomach flipped. All at once I felt light-headed. Sam reached out a steadying hand but I didn’t notice. Right at that moment, my thoughts focused inward, I didn’t see a thing.
    Holy moley, I thought with a sudden, incandescent rush of pure joy. Bob was right.

29
    N ot that I was about to say a word to anyone until I was absolutely sure. Like scientifically, medical evidence sure. Pee-on-a-stick sure. It was one thing for me to get my hopes up. But if I was wrong, I didn’t want Sam and Davey doing the same thing.
    So I got on with my life as though nothing had changed. For the first time, I was actually happy to have a contest-related event to attend. At least it would serve as a distraction until enough time had passed and I could get the answer I was dying to have.
    Better still, tomorrow’s press conference would be the end of the line as far as my finalist duties were concerned. When that final appearance was over, the competition would be, too. One lucky dog and owner would continue on to fame and fortune and my life could go back to normal. The prospect was almost enough to make me giddy.
    Would Yoda’s name be the one announced as previously planned? Like Lisa, I wasn’t sure. So many elements of the contest had gotten derailed since the five finalists had been brought together for the opening reception, it wasn’t hard to imagine that the outcome might take an unexpected turn, too.
    Before the final decision was announced to the press, however, I needed to corner Simone Dorsey and get some answers. Surely she had to realize that her manipulation of the results might have played a part in Larry Kim’s death.
    I sincerely doubted that she would have passed information like that along to the police. Now, however, I was armed with enough knowledge to bluff her into opening up. That gave me an unexpected advantage and I intended to make use of it.
    The press conference was scheduled to take place at the Champions Dog Food headquarters at four o’clock that afternoon. I imagined that that time had been chosen to draw news teams from the local affiliates so that they could report on the story live at five. I put in a call to Simone’s secretary and told her that Faith and I needed an appointment at three.
    “I’ll have to see if she’s available,” the woman replied.
    “Make her available. She won’t want to miss what I have to say.”
    All right, so maybe that wasn’t strictly true. But the implication that I might have some vital information related