Stud Rites

Club. Maddened by grief, Velma Hadley promptly sold Comet to Elsa Van Dine and launched her prolonged but ultimately successful campaign to prevent future ringside fatalities like her husband’s. Thus it is that the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show is now limited to champions of record, all because of that silly Velma Hadley. Just kidding. But Velma Hadley really did make a fuss.
    So Duke admitted that he’d handled Comet on the infamous occasion of J. J. Hadley’s demise and on numerous other occasions, first for Hadley, of course; then for Elsa Van Dine; then for James Hunnewell and, of all people, Timmy Oliver, who’d co-owned the dog with Hunnewell; and finally, after buying Timmy out, for himself and James Hunnewell.
    ”So how did Timmy Oliver ever get to own Comet?” I was amazed. Comet was my idea of serious quality. Timmy Oliver certainly was not.
    Duke’s big, leonine face showed the first negative emotion I’d ever seen it reveal. Exactly what the feeling was, I couldn’t identify, but, for once, Duke looked other than pleasant. ”Elsa offered. Timmy said yes.”
    I remembered that Betty had said something about Elsa’s taking Timmy under her wing. ”And Hunnewell? How did Hunnewell...?”
    ”Money,” Duke said. ”Timmy had dibs—Elsa liked him—but he was broke, so he got James to put up the money, promised him co-ownership, and as soon as Elsa signed Comet over to Timmy, Timmy kept his part of the deal. They had a whole elaborate agreement worked out. James paid the purchase price, the vet bills, uh, handler fees, everything. James had possession. Harriet Lunt drew it all up for them. And that was it. Timmy didn’t get a thing out of it. Co-owned him in name only. Couldn’t say boo to Comet without James’s written agreement.” Duke added with surprising scorn, ”God, there was one time there where Timmy had this bitch he wanted to breed to Comet, and James turned him down flat! Poor sucker! Didn’t even have stud rights on his own dog.”
    ”That’s a pretty unusual arrangement.”
    ”Yeah, well, Comet was an, uh, unusual dog. And, hey, if you were going to co-own a dog with Timmy...?”
    ”Perish the thought!” I exclaimed.
    ”Yeah, well, James was no dummy. He felt the same way.”
    ”So why didn’t James Hunnewell go to Elsa Van Dine in the first place and just buy Comet outright?”
    ”Elsa didn’t care much for James. James could be, uh, abrasive. This judging poll was probably the first popularity contest James ever won in his life.” Duke frowned.
    ”I thought he judged quite a lot.”
    ”He got assignments. People had a lot of respect for his opinions. It was him they didn’t like. With Elsa, it was... Elsa was a pretty woman. James used to hit on her. She hated it. She knew he wanted Comet, and the worse he wanted the dog, the more she’d have sold him to someone else. When she found out he got Comet after all, she was ripping mad at Timmy. But by then, it was too late. And she got over it. She always had a soft spot for Timmy.”
    ”That old tape we saw,” I said. ”That was when Comet belonged to Elsa Van Dine?” The judge had been James Hunnewell, who, for obvious reasons, wouldn’t have been permitted to judge a dog he coowned. ”She owned him for what? Four years?”
    Duke shrugged. ”Give or take.”
    ”So how did Timmy happen to sell to you?” The transaction was none of my business. I felt awkward. The sensation jarred. Ordinarily, Duke Sylvia had the flattering gift of making people feel as though they’d always said the right thing.
    But Duke didn’t seem to sense my discomfort. ”Things got ugly for a while there. One of Timmy’s get-rich-quick schemes fell apart, he was dead broke, and of course, no one was stupid enough to loan him a dime. Comet was the only thing he had that was supposedly worth anything, but, like I said, that was in name only—James had total control. According to this contract they had, he could veto any buyer Timmy came up with. And James wasn’t about to buy Timmy out. He’d bought Comet once. He’d paid the full purchase price, and he’d paid everything since then. He wasn’t going to pay for the same dog twice.”
    ”There might’ve been someone else who just wanted his name on the dog,” I said stupidly. ”Someone Hunnewell would’ve agreed to. People do that. They want the glory. And they contribute to the cost.”
    Duke smiled. ”Yeah, well, there was someone.”
    ”Oh, of course! And