Once Bitten (A Melanie Travis Mystery) (5 page)

“Tomorrow,” Aunt Peg said firmly. She’d been eavesdropping on our private conversation.

“What about tomorrow?”

“Get up, get in the car, come back here, and do it all over again.”

Showing dogs, in a nutshell.

Some days it was just like having a job.

T
here are times when it seems like nothing goes the way you planned.

Late Saturday afternoon, when Davey and I got home from the dog show, there was a car parked in our driveway. A screaming red Trans Am with Texas plates. It took me a few seconds to make the connection. It took Davey even less time than that.

“Daddy!” he shrieked. I braked hastily as my son threw open his door and scrambled out. “Where did you come from?”

Good question, I thought, parking the Volvo as Bob climbed out of his car and stood in the driveway. I hate surprises; have I mentioned that? My ex-husband knows it, or he would if he ever stopped to think about such things. Unfortunately, taking my wishes into consideration has never been a strong suit of his.

Bob swooped his son up off the ground and swung him around in an exuberant circle. “I came from Texas, where do you think? I’m here to visit my two favorite people in the whole world.”

Watching Davey’s legs fly by above her head, Faith jumped up and tried to join in the fun. Her barking was loud enough to alert the entire neighborhood that the Travis family was home. And in case anyone missed the point, Davey’s high-pitched screams of glee provided the final punctuation.

It was only a matter of time before someone called 911. Either that or a psychiatric facility.

“Let’s move this sideshow indoors.” I started up the steps, hoping everyone would follow.

“Good idea,” Bob agreed, rallying the rest of the troops.

Though a year and a half had passed since I’d seen him last, it didn’t look as though much had changed. His sandy brown hair was cut a little shorter and looked as though it might be thinning on top. The creases around his eyes had deepened, probably from squinting into the Texas sun. But he still handled himself with that appealing self-confidence and easy grace that had made my heart pound a decade earlier.

At the door, Bob stopped and carefully wiped his cowboy boots on the mat before coming inside. That was new.

“Your two favorite people?” I said as Davey and Faith ran on ahead to the kitchen.

“Sure, why not?” Bob leaned forward and brushed a kiss across my cheek.

I stepped back before he could add a hug. “What about Jennifer? Your new wife?”

The one who’d finally reached voting age in the spring, I could have added but didn’t. I was taking my new, mature attitude out for a test drive.

“It didn’t work out.”

I peered at Bob closely, looking for signs of sadness or maybe remorse. I found neither. “How come?”

“She decided to go back to college.”

So help me, I almost laughed. So much for the new maturity.

“I’m sorry,” I managed to say instead.

“Don’t be, I’m not. It obviously wasn’t the best decision on either of our parts and we parted pretty amicably.”

I pulled off my jacket and hung it on the coatrack. Making himself at home, Bob followed suit. I waited until he turned back to me, then asked bluntly, “Bob, what are you doing here?”

“What do you mean?” He seemed genuinely surprised by the question. “Frank invited me. I came for the wedding. I’m going to be an usher.”

“The wedding is six weeks away.”

“So I’m a little early.”

As soon as Bob tilted his head to one side, adding that boyishly innocent look that I suddenly remembered from years gone by, I knew I was in trouble. He was hiding something. That, and hoping to cajole his way past my questions until he was ready to let me in on his plans.

I wondered what it was this time. Last time he visited unexpectedly, he’d been hoping to gain joint custody of his son.

“Don’t you have things you need to be doing in Texas?”

“No.”

“A job?”

“I’ve made some good investments.”

This was said with becoming modesty. Eighteen months earlier, my accountant ex-husband had seen his oil well come in. Literally. I guessed things had been going pretty well for him since then.

Bob started to follow Davey toward the back of the house. I put a hand on his arm to stop him. Before we continued our conversation in front of our son, I needed a clearer picture of what was going on.

“So what are your plans?”

“Plans? Who needs plans? I thought maybe I’d just hang loose for a while.”

“Hang loose?” The skeptic in me nearly added a snort.

Bob put his hand on top of mine and patted gently, like a cowboy trying to soothe a skittish filly. His fingers felt warm and solid against my own. “Don’t worry, darlin’. Everything will be fine.”

Not in this lifetime, I thought.

Just as Aunt Peg had forecast, the next morning I got up, got in the car, drove back to the show site, and did the whole thing all over again. With one small exception. This time I had Bob with me.

“Dog show?” he’d said the evening before, when I informed him that Davey and I had plans for the following day. “Sounds like fun.”

The man was lying through his teeth.

The only time I’d ever seen him pay any attention to Faith, he’d compared her to a bear. And I knew for a fact that he thought her elaborate trim was downright silly. Add to that the fact that he wouldn’t know anyone at the show or understand what was going on. But if Bob wanted to make himself accommodating, far be it from me to discourage him.

Once again, Poodles had been assigned a late morning judging time; once again, we had to leave early. The Bob I had known liked to sleep in. He must have suspected that if he wasn’t ready I’d leave him behind, because he was standing by the front door, jacket on, holding two steaming cups of coffee five minutes before the appointed hour.

He’d made one for me, too. Darn it.

Then again, I thought, how hard was it to get to the door on time when you’d only been sleeping at the top of the stairs?

Last time Bob had visited, he stayed in a motel. This time he was planning to bunk with Frank, but the drive had taken less time than he’d anticipated. My brother wasn’t expecting him until after the weekend, and so he’d come to our house first.

It hardly made sense for him to leave, sleep for a few hours, then come right back, Bob had argued the night before. Why not just let him stay?

All I can say is, I must be getting soft in my old age.

Our small house only has two bedrooms, as Bob knows perfectly well since he lived here for two years of our marriage. He’d glanced in my direction hopefully. The glare I sent back could have melted sludge.

Nothing if not able to read the subtle nuances, he’d switched his attention to our son. “How about it, sport? Want to share your room with me? I’ll bet you have a sleeping bag stashed somewhere. Can I borrow it and sleep on your floor?”

We ended up with Bob in the bed and Davey, to his delight, on the floor. I somehow forgot to mention ahead of time that Faith sleeps on that bed, too. As I was closing my door I heard a startled yelp—human, not canine—followed by a fit of giggles from Davey, and I figured that they’d gotten things sorted out.

“Sleep well?” Bob asked now, as we walked out into the cold November morning.

“Very.” An expedient answer, if not entirely true. Not that the truth was any of his business.

I’d left the Volvo in the driveway the night before, parked behind Bob’s Trans Am. Since our one-car garage was crammed with enough junk to host a rummage sale, lately I’d gotten in the habit of leaving my station wagon outside. Most mornings recently, I’d had to allow a few extra minutes to scrape the frost off the windows.

But now, to my surprise, not only were the windows clear, but the engine was running. A steamy cloud puffed out of the exhaust pipe. The car was already warm.

“I got the keys out of your coat pocket,” Bob said. He opened the back door and got Davey and Faith inside and belted up. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Mind? A warm car on a frigid winter morning? That was a luxury, not an imposition. Whatever was going on around here—and clearly there was much I still didn’t understand—I decided I didn’t hate it.

In contrast to the dog show scene of several decades ago, cluster shows—where several kennel clubs get together to hold back-to-back events at the same venue—have now become the norm. I’d left most of my equipment at the show the day before, so that morning we had nothing to unload. My things were just where I’d left them, on the edge of Bertie’s setup.

She, like the other professional handlers, would have gotten to the arena at dawn to feed, water, and exercise her string of dogs before the competition began. By the time we arrived, however, breakfasts had been eaten and ex-pens had been folded away out of sight. The business of putting on a show was once more in session.

“Good morning!” Aunt Peg sang out cheerfully as we approached. “Isn’t this a glorious—”

The words seemed to die in her throat. Actually, judging by the expression on her face, it looked as though a bone might have gotten stuck there. A large one. And she was staring right at Bob.

Bob and I have had a chance to talk our past problems through. He and Aunt Peg aren’t so lucky. I suspect she’s never forgiven him for abandoning me and Davey, leaving us young and alone, with no visible means of support, while he went off in search of a life that looked a little easier.

“Bob,” she said, her voice just this side of civil. “What a surprise.”

“For me, too,” I said, hopping Faith up onto her table. “We got home last night and there he was. Imagine that.”

“Daddy stayed all night!” Davey added helpfully. “It was lots of fun.”

“Indeed.”

Deliberately I turned away and reached for my tack box. I hauled it out and opened it up, getting out the brushes and combs I was going to need. Call me cruel, but Bob was on his own now.

“Nice to see you again, Peg,” he said jauntily.

He leaned toward my aunt, but if he thought he’d succeed in kissing her cheek, he was sorely mistaken. At six feet, she looked him straight in the eye, guessed his intent, and evaded him nimbly. Bob should have been chastened. Instead he grinned.

Uh oh, I thought.

“Just passing through, I assume?” Peg asked.

“Actually, I thought I’d stay a while. Frank invited me to his wedding. I figured I’d come a little early and lend him some moral support.”

“Because you have so much experience in being a good husband,” Peg mused. “How’s your new wife?”

“Gone,” Bob said cheerfully. “Pffft!” He waved a hand through the air. “You know how these things—”

“Bob.” My tone was pleasant; the warning was in my eyes. Goading Aunt Peg is not a game.

I could feel her mounting displeasure from across the aisle. Even Faith was getting edgy. Only Bob seemed oblivious.

“Bob and Jennifer have separated,” I explained.

“Divorced,” he corrected. “Mexico.”

“Even better.” Aunt Peg smiled. “Then you’re free as a bird. You could go anywhere . . . else.”

“I like it here.” Bob leaned against a bank of wooden crates, signaling his intent to stay put. “With my family—”

Abruptly my ex-husband straightened. His jaw fell.

Two guesses, I thought. Either someone had run an electrical charge through those crates, or Bob had just spotted Bertie.

I turned and had a look. Right the second time.

Shar Peis must have been scheduled earlier on Sunday, because Bertie was heading back toward the setup leading Ping and Pong. According to the ribbons in her hand, she’d repeated her wins from the day before.

Bertie’s face was lit by a happy smile. Her hair bounced on her shoulders as she walked. A navy silk dress, fitted through the bodice, looser below so she could run in it, swirled enticingly around her long legs.

“Hot damn!” Bob said appreciatively.

“No swearing in front of Davey.”

Now my ex-husband was speechless. His eyes, however, were huge. I wondered if Bertie ever got tired of having this effect on men.

“She’s headed our way,” Bob managed.

“Of course. Those are her crates you’re leaning against. Would you like me to introduce you to Frank’s fiancée?”

“
That’s
Bertie?”

His expression alone was worth a chuckle. “Didn’t Frank ever describe her to you?”

“Sure. He said she looked good.”

One word here. Men. You know what I’m talking about.

“Hey,” said Bertie. Her gaze flickered toward Bob, then back to me. “I could have used your help again with these guys.”

“It looks as though you won anyway.”

“The judge liked cleavage,” she confided in an undertone. “One of the few who’d notice.”

“I can’t imagine anyone wouldn’t notice you,” Bob said.

I’m sure he didn’t mean to sound obnoxious. Bertie and I both grimaced anyway. I guessed she did get tired of all the attention.

“It happens.” Her tone was dismissive.

“Bertie, I’d like you to meet my ex-husband, Bob.”

“You’re Bob?” She took a minute to have a good look at him. “I thought you might have horns.”

“They’re in back,” said Peg. “Under the hair. Though now that I check, there seems to be less—”

“Aunt Peg!”

Bob flinched slightly. “You people are tough. What’s a guy have to do to catch a break around here?”

“Maybe take Davey for a walk around the show?” I suggested.

“So you can talk about me while I’m gone?”

“Something like that.” I reached out and squeezed his arm. Probably not the show of support he was hoping for, but all I was ready to offer. “Go sit ringside and let Davey explain to you how dog shows work. You’ll have fun.”

“Sure we will. Davey and I always have fun together. Don’t we, sport?”

“Right, Daddy.”

For the briefest moment, Bob leaned closer. His cheek brushed my hair; his lips hovered next to my ear. I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin.