The Barker Street Regulars

the group. In unconscious imitation of Watson, I asked, “Are we intruding?”
    “Of course not!” Althea assured me. “You and your colleague”—she smiled—“are more than welcome.” Althea used words carefully. “Colleague?” I smiled. “Isn’t that Holmes’s word for Watson?”
    “Indeed,” said Althea, accepting Rowdy’s paw. “My friend and colleague,” she informed Rowdy. Shifting her gaze from Rowdy to me, she said, “We could use your expertise. Would a puzzle interest you?”
    “If it’s a question about the Sacred Writings,” I said, “I’ll have to pass. I’m not in your Red-headed League.”
    Althea was delighted. “A dog puzzle,” she said. “A game.”
    “I’ll try.”
    “Gigantic paw prints,” Althea said, “which I am told that you observed for yourself. The evidence of the sundial, so to speak: a tall dog, probably a large male dog. White hair and white hair only. Let us put that description together with a protective dog, at any rate, protective of the vehicle in which he rides. A dog that gives a deep, loud bark when strangers approach his territory.” To Hugh and Robert, she said, “Now, the two of you say not one word! What I’m after here is an expert opinion independent of the conclusions you have drawn from your data. Holly?”
    “I can’t give you a definite answer,” I said. “But—”
    “Holly, for heaven’s sake, stop hedging!” Althea ordered.
    “Okay,” I conceded. “There are three likely breeds. One: komondor. Hungarian sheepdog. Guard dog. Big and white, with a corded coat.” In response to expressions of bafflement, I elaborated, “The hair forms long, uh, ringlets, I guess you’d say. So the dog looks as if his coat is made of hundreds of thin ropes. Second, kuvasz. Big white dog. Also developed in Hungary. Guard of the nobility. More popular than the komondor, but still pretty unusual. But I think it’s neither of those breeds. Among other things—”
    “Holly!” Althea chastised.
    “Okay! Great Pyrenees,” I said. “On raw probabilities, a giant white dog is more likely to be Great Pyrenees than a komondor or a kuvasz because there are more of them. There are about as many Pyrs as there are malamutes.”
    “Forty-fourth,” Robert said.
    “What?” I asked.
    “We consulted the registration statistics of the American Kennel Club,” Robert explained. “The Great Pyrenees ranks forty-fourth in popularity, whereas the kuvasz is one hundred and fourth, and the komondor one hundred and twenty-first. As you undoubtedly know.”
    “The three coats are fairly distinctive,” I said. “You must have gotten samples at the show. The sample from a Great Pyrenees was the best match for the hair you found in Ceci’s yard. Right?”
    The two men still flanked Althea. Rowdy had sunk to the floor and lay at her feet. Althea’s expression was gentle. Robert’s, however, was now inexplicably hostile or suspicious. Hugh, in contrast, seemed to be gloating. I felt mystified.
    The task of challenging me fell to Hugh, who now held the sheaf of photographs. With no warning, he suddenly thrust one at me. “The time has come!” he announced melodramatically. “We know that this man, the owner of the presumed Great Pyrenees, is, as you admitted to us yesterday, a friend of yours.”
    I tried to cut in. “My friend—”
    Hugh went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “We know that this same man, the driver of a dark panel truck, regularly visits the psychic, Irene Wheeler. You, too, have called on her. We further know that you, while accusing others of efforts to dupe the innocent Mrs. Love, have gone out of your way to ingratiate yourself with her as well as...”He glanced briefly at Althea.
    Robert took up the task. Pointing to the picture Hugh had thrust at me, he said severely, “We demand to know the precise nature of your relationship with this individual.”
    The photograph had obviously been taken from the Holmesians’ aerie opposite Irene Wheeler’s house. It showed the dark panel truck. Opening the driver’s side door was the man with the bulbous forehead.
    “My relationship with this man,” I growled, “is that he tried to drown my cat.”
    Conflict is of immense interest to dogs. Rowdy, suddenly alert, rose to his feet and shook himself all over. I expected him to move neatly to my side. Instead, after conducting what looked like a swift survey, he planted himself next to Althea, raised a paw, and rested it on the arm of