Free Jingle Bell Bark by Laurien Berenson Page A

through the files. Those in the top drawer seemed to be related to Henry’s business dealings, past and present. She slid that drawer shut and tried the next. Right up front she found what she was looking for. A folder with the Golden Retrievers’ names on it contained a pair of business-size envelopes bearing the return address of the American Kennel Club in North Carolina.
    â€œBingo.” Peg rocked back on her heels and opened the first one. The certificate had been issued to Longacres Hot Pepper, owner Henry Pruitt. Pepper’s sire and dam were both champions, and both of those dogs bore the Longacres prefix as well. The breeder’s name was Cindy Marshall.
    â€œAnyone you know?” I asked.
    Aunt Peg nodded thoughtfully. “Cindy’s been around the dog show scene for at least a decade. I don’t believe we’ve actually met, but I certainly recognize the name. I imagine she’d know mine as well. She lives in northern New Jersey, maybe Gladstone or Basking Ridge. I believe she’s a member of the Somerset Hills Kennel Club.”
    â€œIn other words, she’s the type of breeder who would probably take Pepper back and find him a good home if Henry’s daughters don’t want him.”
    â€œI’d be shocked if she wouldn’t,” Aunt Peg said firmly. “Let’s see what we can find out about Remington.”
    The second Golden Retriever had been registered under the name of Henry’s Pal Remington.
    â€œCute,” Peg muttered. It didn’t sound like a compliment.
    I scanned the short certificate. Remington’s sire was a dog named Golden Boy the Great. His dam was listed as Daisy Dipsy Doodle. I chuckled under my breath. At least presumably they’d been purebred. Then my eye traveled down the page to the name of Remington’s breeder and my smile died.
    â€œWell, that’s interesting,” I said.
    â€œRebecca Morehouse,” Aunt Peg read. “I just heard that name recently. From you, wasn’t it?”
    â€œYes, she’s the woman who’s directing Davey’s play at the arts center. The one my neighbor’s planning to buy her Christmas puppy from. Small world.”
    â€œSmall neighborhood, anyway. I wonder how Mr. Pruitt came to buy one of his dogs from a reputable breeder and the other from a local puppy mill. I guess we’ll never know the answer to that.”
    â€œUnless Rebecca wants to tell us.” I walked over to the desk whose surface contained a blotter, a pen set, and a laptop computer. Idly, I began pulling drawers open and looking inside. “I was going to talk to her anyway about Alice’s puppy. When I do, I’ll ask about Henry and see if she’s willing to take Remington. With luck, you’ll have your kennel empty again by the end of the week.”
    â€œThere’s no hurry on that score.” Aunt Peg braced a hand against the file cabinet and pushed herself slowly to her feet. “Melanie, what are you doing in that poor man’s private desk?”
    I looked up. “Exactly the same thing you were doing a minute ago in his private filing cabinet. Snooping around.”
    â€œAt least I had a good excuse.”
    â€œSo do I. I’m trying to find his address book. It’s all well and good for us to decide that Pepper and Remington need to be placed in good homes, but until Henry’s relatives show up and say for sure that they don’t want them, we don’t really have the right to do anything. If we can find his daughters’ names and phone numbers, we could give them a call and ask what their plans are.”
    â€œGood idea.” Peg came to join me. She started opening drawers on the other side. “Wait a minute, here’s something.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œPhotographs.” She picked up a sleeve from a local developer and dumped out a thick stack of double prints. “Maybe they’ll tell us