Ruff Way to Go by Leslie O'Kane

luck, she might listen to it in my
presence.
    “These are
some of my favorite babies,” Luellen cooed, sweeping two nearly
identical-looking dogs into her arms. All told, there were eight silky terriers
who’d followed us into the kitchen. “This is Lucas and Candy. Silky terriers
are just the perfect dog. They’re not too yippy and not too big. At the same
time, they’re a dog’s dog. You know what I mean?”
    I’d never
really heard anyone refer to a “dog’s dog,” so I merely smiled. All toy breeds
are dismissed by a certain subset of dog lovers as being for folks who really
want a housecat but, for allergies or other reasons, wind up with a dog. You
put a silky up against a Saint Bernard, and I suspect the Saint Bernard would
be considered the doggier dog.
    “Do you have
any dogs, Allida, or will this one be your first?”
    “I have two
dogs,” I replied, glancing again at her answering machine. I gestured at it
with my chin. “I see you have a message.”
    “Yes, it’s a
regular madhouse around here.” She nuzzled the dogs in her arms, then set them
down. She grabbed a small stack of what looked like frozen vegetables and
jammed them onto an already crowded shelf in the freezer. “Were you looking to
get a puppy right away?”
    “No, not
really.” There was no sense in delaying my telling her the real reason for my
visit any longer. “Actually, I’m not here to ask about purchasing one of your
puppies. I’m a neighbor of Trevor’s.”
    There was a
barely perceptible hitch in her motions, then she continued to put away
groceries. “When you say you’re a neighbor of his, do you mean in Berthoud?”
    “Yes, I live
across the street from the house he and Edith shared.”
    Her face
grew somber. “You must have known that poor woman who was murdered, then.”
    “Cassandra
Randon. Yes.”
    “That’s such
a tragedy. Trevor always spoke highly of both her and her husband. Do the
police have any theories about who the murderer is?”
    “Probably,
but they haven’t shared their opinions with us civilians.”
    She swept
her hair behind an ear, her dark eyes focused on mine, a thoughtful expression
crossing her pleasant features. She shared Trevor’s pointy nose, but overall,
she was quite a bit more attractive than her brother. “Wait a minute. Allida. I
remember the name now. You do something with dogs, don’t you?”
    “Yes, I’m a
dog behaviorist. In fact, Edith had recently hired me to help determine custody
of Shogun.”
    She smiled. “That’s
right. Trevor mentioned that to me just yesterday afternoon. He said Edith had
hired you. I told him that if you knew what you were doing at all, he’d wind up
with custody.”
    “Well,
Luellen, I have to say that I do think it’s quite possible that your brother
would have wound up with custody of Shogun. However, right now all I care about
is locating Shogun. I was thinking that it was possible that he came here once
he got frightened and left his home.”
    “Oh. I see.
He’s not here, though.” An anxious look flitted across her features and she
jumped back a little. “Oh, shoot. I forgot to get something critical at the
store. Was there anything else you wanted to know, Allida?”
    I wasn’t
certain, but I had gotten the impression that she’d seen something behind me
that frightened her. I turned and watched as a ninth dog came toward us. The
dog walked with those cute, perky little steps as he padded across the kitchen.
    Could this
be Shogun? Where had he come from? I silently answered my own question: In this
strange—to him—environment, he would be lowest-ranking dog and
therefore the last to enter a room to investigate new visitors. He came up to
me as if returning to an old friend.
    “Sorry to
kick you out, Allida,” Luellen went on nervously, “but I’m afraid I’ve got no
choice but to run back to the store.”
    I knelt and
let Shogun climb into my lap. “Shogun! Hi!” In my intense relief, I realized
how frightened