Free Raining Cats & Dogs (A Melanie Travis Mystery) by Laurien Berenson Page A

jumped back through.
    By then, nearly everyone in the room had gathered around to enjoy the show. I saw Madeline and Borden, though Paul and Mary were no longer with them. Even some of the nurses who’d been passing by in the hall were clustered in the doorway.
    “What a show-off,” Julie said. She’d faded back out of the circle and brought Jack over to stand beside me and Mark. Now Minnie had Coach dancing on his hind legs.
    “You’re just jealous,” Mark was grinning when he said it, but the words still had bite.
    “Of that ?” Julie tossed her head disdainfully. “I don’t think so. Jack has entirely too much dignity to put on such a display. Minnie’s got that dog prancing around out there like she thinks he’s some sort of froufrou Poodle circus act.”
    It took her a moment to realize what she’d said, and in front of whom she’d said it. Then she swallowed abruptly and glanced at me out of the corner of her eye.
    “Sorry. You know I didn’t mean Faith. I was talking about those little Poodles that you see. You know, Toys and Minis that are dyed all sorts of pastel colors. The ones that run around with clowns and ride bicycles or play the piano.”
    “No problem,” I said.
    Over the years, Faith and I have heard pretty much the entire gamut of Poodle insults. Mostly, I realized, they came from people who weren’t familiar with the breed. Because I’d never met someone who’d lived with a Poodle, had enjoyed the breed’s lively and intelligent temperament, and hadn’t wanted another one.
    In the beginning, I used to leap to the breed’s defense, but I rarely bother anymore. Faith’s dignity and demeanor speak for themselves. And if she was big enough to ignore the occasional insult that came her way, I figured I might as well follow her sterling example.
    Besides, I had yet to see a Poodle play the piano. If I did, I’d probably find it to be a pretty impressive accomplishment.
    Movement over by the doorway caught my eye. Kelly had just entered the room. I glanced at her, then quickly looked again. Boss wasn’t with her.
    Then the Akita began to bark—a big, booming bass of a sound—and I realized that Steve was holding him off to one side. The excitement caused by Coach’s performance, coupled with Kelly leaving him, had caused the big dog to become thoroughly agitated.
    For the moment, Steve had control of the Akita, but he was struggling. The leather collar didn’t offer the trainer nearly as much control as a choke chain would have. If the powerful dog decided to bound into the crowd, there wouldn’t be much Steve could do to restrain him.
    Kelly went straight to the pair. She put a hand on the Akita’s muzzle—something I certainly wouldn’t have wanted to do—and the dog immediately quieted. Steve leaned forward and whispered something in Kelly’s ear. He looked tense and angry. She shook her head and snatched Boss’s leash out of his hands.
    Steve stared at her briefly. I wondered if he was assessing her control of the dog. Then, abruptly, he turned away and strode to the middle of the floor where Minnie and Coach had just ended their performance.
    “Once again,” he said, looking around at the assemblage of patients and nurses, “I want to thank the staff and the residents of Winston Pumpernill for allowing us to share their Sunday afternoons. We always enjoy our visits here, and today has been no exception. I hope you all have a wonderful week.”
    Before Steve had even finished speaking, Julie was already heading for the door. Mark and Stacey fell in behind her. Minnie was still busy talking to someone about Coach’s tricks. I didn’t see Paul; I assumed he’d gone to say good-bye to his great-aunt. When Kelly and Boss also started to leave, I decided to hang back a bit and give the pair a wide berth.
    Steve went to get Minnie and hustle her along. She made a face at him, then hurried to catch up. She and I walked down the long hall together.
    “So,” she said,