Stud Rites

the flu. Pam Ritchie and Tiny DaSilva sat between Karl and Duke. How Duke had contrived to get Timmy seated alone with two empty places on one side and one on the other, I didn’t know, but I held Duke responsible. Wherever Duke sat automatically became the head of the table. A waiter showed up with two bottles of wine. After filling our glasses, he left both bottles in front of Duke. Then Finn Adams wandered along and, gesturing to the empty place between Timmy Oliver and Karl Reilly, got Duke’s unspoken permission to join us.
    At the risk of sounding like the Camille Paglia of dogs, let me admit that I dearly love a true alpha male.
    When Finn sat down, he exchanged introductions with Karl Reilly and with Pam and Tiny. He nodded politely to Leah and me and greeted Timmy Oliver, whom he obviously knew. To Duke, he said, ”Finn Adams. R.T.I.” Duke tipped his big lion’s head. I suppose Duke took it for granted that at a dog show, everyone knew who he was. I had the sense that in Finn’s case Duke was right.
    At dog club banquets, the standard appetizer is fresh fruit cup. Upscale is with sherbet. Ours was without, but each of us did get a garnish of mint leaf. Duke picked up his spoon and ate a melon ball. Then the rest of us began. As we passed the baskets of rolls and the plates of butter, everyone agreed that, especially considering the circumstances, Mikki Muldoon was doing a very good job.
    ”Mikki always runs a tight ship,” Duke commented. ”She’s a real pro.”
    As if to suggest that Freida Reilly wasn’t, Tiny turned to Karl and said, ”Your mother looks done in. She must be ready to drop.”
    I didn’t really know Karl Reilly. What gave me a false sense of familiarity was Karl’s resemblance to a man who appeared in a lot of obscure-channel TV commercials for a local chain that sold cheap men’s suits. Whenever I saw Karl, I found myself expecting him to display his trouser cuffs and utter negative remarks about high-priced stores. Before Karl could respond to Tiny, however, Pam Ritchie said, ”Well, of course Freida’s showing the strain! Who wouldn’t be? It’s enough of a job to chair a national to begin with, never mind having your judge murdered. Exactly how do you expect her to look?”
    In self-defense, or perhaps in defense of Freida’s qualifications for the hotly coveted place on the board, Tiny said, ”All I meant was that I, for one, don’t envy Freida one bit. All of us owe her a debt of gratitude for coping so magnificently with this terrible situation.”
    ”Of course we do! Karl, I hope your mother knows what a remarkable job everyone thinks she’s doing. Among other things, I expected to walk in here and find us stuck with an, uh, undercover cop at every table.” Pam’s eyes lingered on Finn Adams.
    With a trace of his old charm, Finn smiled crookedly and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
    ”Hey, like he says,” Timmy Oliver said, ”he’s from R.T.I. We’ve been talking a little business. Besides, him and Holly go way back.”
    I cringed. ”Pam,” I said, ”I swear he’s from R.T.I. If there are any cops here, Finn isn’t one of them. And if they want to know anything, they don’t have to sneak anyone in. There’s nothing to stop them from just asking.”
    As if to prove me right, Karl Reilly shook his head glumly. ”The cop I talked to really put me through it.”
    As one waitress removed the remains of his fruit cup and another replaced it with a salad plate, he added, ”I’m the one who picked Mr. Hunnewell up at the airport. Favor to my mother. Turned out to be more than I bargained for, and the cops had to hear all about it.” The salad in front of me was composed of a bed of shredded iceberg lettuce topped with one leaf of arugula. Karl must’ve decided that the dark green leaf on his had gotten there by mistake. Or maybe a bug or a strand of hair clung to it. He delicately removed the leaf with his fingers and speared a fork into the lettuce. ”Geez, at first I didn’t... The fact is that my mother’d warned me that Mr. Hunnewell was... that he wasn’t necessarily Mr. Nice Guy all the time, but whoo! If I’d’ve known, I’d’ve told her to let him take a cab.”
    Lowering her chin to peer censoriously over imaginary eyeglasses, Pam pointed out, ”It was much more courteous to have someone meet him personally, you know, Karl. And it’s an awfully long ride for a taxi.”
    ”You’re telling me,” Karl said. ”Halfway