Puss 'N Cahoots

as Manuel and the men quickly stripped Point Guard, wiping him down. Sweat rolled down Larry’s brow, both from exertion and emotion. “They were crazy.”
    “I know,” Joan simply said, as Frances and Paul came into the barn.
    Paul quietly said, “I think we’d better pack up and go home a little faster than normal.”
    “You’re right, Daddy.” Joan didn’t know what was going on, but she didn’t want to be around if there was more of it.
    “Can I help with anything?” Fair asked.
    “No, but I think you should get out while the gettin’s good,” Joan said. “We can link up tomorrow.”
    Harry turned to Fair and said, “Give me a minute.”
    “Why?”
    “The pin.”
    “Oh.” He’d forgotten all about it.
    Harry ran over to Booty’s barn. Booty and Senator hadn’t yet returned. Miss Nasty hadn’t, either. Small wonder. She knew she was in big trouble.
    Fair had put the two cats in their crate—a good thing, since they’d only set off Miss Nasty again—but Tucker and Cookie followed Harry as she ran, faster this time, to Charly’s barn. Yes, she was looking for Miss Nasty, but she wanted a peek at Charly’s barn before Carlos and others arrived.
    As she entered the barn, she couldn’t miss the monkey sitting in the rafters.
    No one was in the barn—no human, anyway.
    Tucker called out,
“Spike.”
    “Yo!”
Spike stuck his head out of the hospitality tent, where he and the others had sampled the food, finding it delicious.
    “Charly’s dead.”
    “Ah.”
Spike neither liked nor disliked Charly, although he liked his food. Too much drama surrounded Charly for Spike’s exquisite feline sensibility.
    “Anything weird happen here before the class?”
    “Booty brought champagne as a peace offering. Charly wouldn’t make peace. Ward came in. A go-round, if you know what I mean.”
    Tucker sniffed deeply, then saw the sweating champagne bottle on the navy and red tack trunk in the aisle. A single fluted glass lay on its side. The corgi walked up to the glass as Harry investigated the tack room and the hospitality room. She returned to behold her dog standing at the glass, whimpering.
    Harry went to Tucker, glad for the indoor lights as it was now truly dark outside. She touched the champagne bottle but, not being an aficionado, she had no idea how special it was.
    “Smell the glass, Mom,”
Tucker barked softly.
    Harry pinched the stem of the glass between her forefinger and thumb, lifting it to her nose. Then she blinked, putting it back down. “Odd.” She didn’t smell too much, but she noticed some yellow crystals on the bottom, where the slight bit of liquid remaining had dried in the heat.
    Just to be sure, she picked up the champagne bottle and inhaled the aroma. She could almost taste the toasty, fruity liquid, a deep enticing blend of other elements she couldn’t place adding to the bouquet. Then she smelled the glass again, wrinkled her nose, coughed once, and put it back.
    She ran for a deputy, the sheriff, anyone in law enforcement. She forgot all about Miss Nasty, who had observed everything.

T he hospitality suite in Barn Five was overflowing when Harry burst in, motioning for Fair to come outside. Joan and Larry, surrounded by guests, watched out of the corners of their eyes.
    Frances finally spoke to Joan as she, too, had noticed Harry’s flushed face, and Harry was usually a cool customer. “Joan, you should see to Harry.”
    Renata, surrounded by people, started to wiggle free.
    “What’s up, honey?” Fair asked.
    “I can’t find a cop.”
    “They’re probably down at the show ring or,” he paused, “at the celebrations after the show. A lot to contend with.”
    “Fair, Charly was poisoned. I’m pretty sure.”
    “What?”
    “Come with me.”
    Joan and Renata came out together just as someone—well-meaning, probably—let Pewter and Mrs. Murphy out of their crate.
    The two cats shot out, skidding into the main aisle.
    “Follow Mom!”
Mrs. Murphy headed after Harry, Fair, and Tucker.
    Cookie waited for Joan, saying,
“Come on, come on!”
To emphasize her point, the Jack Russell ran circles around both Joan and Renata.
    Joan took the hint, hurrying after Harry and Fair.
    As the little half platoon moved on to Charly’s barn, Booty was regaling a large number of well-wishers. Booty, Senator in his groom’s hands with a monstrously large tricolor ribbon hanging for all to see, was in his glory.
    Ward popped in to congratulate him. “Hear