Free Underdog by Laurien Berenson

certainly knew her sister better than anyone.”
    Aunt Peg thought for a minute. “Jenny wanting to commit suicide? I just don’t see it.”
    â€œNeither do I. When I asked Rick about it, he said that he and Jenny were doing great, that she had no reason to be depressed.”
    Aunt Peg shook her head slightly. “That’s Rick’s version.”
    â€œDo you like Angie’s better?”
    â€œTo tell you the truth, I don’t like either of them. But I also don’t like the fact that Rick feels so comfortable speaking for his wife. He did that when she was alive too.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œJust that he’s the kind of man who likes to be in charge. You saw a little bit of what I’m talking about when you invited Jenny to dinner.”
    â€œYou’re right,” I said, thinking back. “At the time, it seemed pretty funny.”
    â€œThen maybe, but not always. Come on, turn over.” Peg patted Lulu’s rear and the puppy stood up and turned over so that the other side could be dried. In a million years, Faith would never be that well trained. “I used to see them together all the time at the shows. Rick could be obsessive about controlling things right down to the smallest detail. Let’s just say that when he said jump, Jenny usually did.”
    â€œYou just told me you didn’t think Jenny would have committed suicide. Now you’re agreeing with Angie that she was unhappy.”
    â€œDon’t put words in my mouth. I said nothing of the sort. What I said was that Rick was definitely the one of the two of them who was in charge. Who knows? Maybe she wanted it that way.”
    â€œMaybe,” I mused, although her version of events didn’t jibe with my recollection of the woman I’d thought I was coming to know. Another inconsistency to file away for future consideration.
    â€œHow much do you know about arsenic?” I asked.
    â€œSlightly more than the average layman, I suppose.” Aunt Peg finished going through the puppy’s neck hair and switched her pin brush for a slicker. “Amazing as it seems, in the old days some of the more unscrupulous handlers used to give arsenic to their dogs in small, hopefully controlled doses. It made them grow huge coats that looked great in the ring.”
    â€œThat’s terrible!”
    â€œIt certainly is. Especially for the owners whose dogs overdosed on a drug they had no idea they were being given.”
    â€œThey don’t do that anymore, do they?”
    â€œNo, although unfortunately it’s not because ethics have improved any. Now the drug of choice is steroids. It produces heavy coats and muscles. At the moment there’s no drug-testing program in place to ferret out an abuse like that. Luckily it’s too risky to be widespread. Why do you want to know?”
    â€œI was wondering about the rat poison in the Maguires’ kennel. Rick said that all of them handled it. Is arsenic something that could be absorbed through the skin if you weren’t careful?”
    Aunt Peg shook her head. “That’s not the way it works. If Jenny died from arsenic poisoning, she had to have ingested it somehow. Like maybe in the food she ate for dinner that night.”
    â€œRick and Angie were right there. Presumably they ate dinner with her.”
    â€œI didn’t say that it was a sensible solution, only that it was a possibility.”
    I had plenty of possibilities. The problem was, there wasn’t a single sensible solution in sight.
    â€œMommy, Aunt Peg, come find me! I’m hiding!”
    Davey’s shout from outside was followed by a high-pitched yip from Faith. My son loves to play hide and seek. He started when he was two by covering his face with his hands. Since then his skill at concealing himself has improved enormously. Having recently dug him out from beneath a steward’s table at a dog show and behind the bagel