Free Chow Down by Laurien Berenson Page B

backyard was spacious and tranquil. If the residents of this neighborhood made any noise, they did so within the privacy of their own homes. Occasionally there were moments when I missed the constant bustle of our old block, but this wasn’t one of them.
    Now I wanted to sit down and have a serious discussion about murder, and having serenity for a backdrop suited me just fine.
    â€œFirst things first,” Aunt Peg said when we’d gotten settled. “Who died?”
    â€œLarry Kim. He and his wife, Lisa, are the owners of Yoda the Yorkie.”
    â€œAside from that, what do we know about them?”
    I remembered our conversation about the other finalists at the dog show. Bertie had been the one who knew the Kims, not Aunt Peg.
    â€œNot much, I’m afraid. I’d only met them both an hour earlier. We were together in a conference room with our dogs for a group interview with the contest committee. Larry seemed like a nice enough man, I guess. Very protective of his dog.”
    â€œNice enough people don’t usually get murdered,” Aunt Peg commented acerbically.
    â€œWell . . .” I admitted, “the police aren’t exactly calling it a murder.”
    â€œWhat are they calling it?”
    â€œThey’re not sure. It was obvious that Larry died as a result of his fall. But they don’t know why he fell.”
    â€œYou mean maybe he just tripped?”
    I nodded slowly. “That seemed to be what they were thinking before I told the officer that I’d heard someone in the stairwell with him shortly before he died.”
    â€œWell then,” Aunt Peg said happily, “the plot thickens.”
    â€œOh please.” I’d injected enough exasperation into the comment to wilt a lesser woman. Peg wasn’t even daunted. “The only thing my information got me was the opportunity to hang around Norwalk a couple of extra hours and be interviewed two more times by the police.”
    â€œSo you’ve done your civic duty, now do the same by your family. I want you to tell me everything. But before we get started, did you miss lunch? Are you hungry? Shall I make you a sandwich while you talk?”
    Only Aunt Peg could skip back and forth between murder and food without missing a beat, and make the juxtaposition sound perfectly natural.
    â€œYes, I missed lunch, and no, I’m not hungry.”
    â€œMaybe that’s good news! Maybe you’re—”
    â€œDon’t say it.”
    â€œAll right, I won’t.” Peg frowned. “But that doesn’t stop me from thinking it. Now, back to a topic you will discuss without getting cranky for no good reason, which, by the way, is another possible sign . . .”
    Not trusting myself to speak, I simply leveled a glare.
    Aunt Peg shrugged. She recognizes outrage only when it suits her. When I’m the outraged party it usually doesn’t.
    â€œSo we’re back to Mr. Perfectly Nice Yorkie Owner and his presumably perfectly nice wife,” she said. “Tell me more about them.”
    â€œMy first impression was that they were both rather quiet. The entire time we were there, Lisa let Larry do almost all the talking. But halfway through the interview, the two of them stood up and threatened to walk out.”
    â€œIt’s always the quiet ones that surprise you.”
    â€œThis surprised everyone. But they were right. Chris— he’s director of advertising for the company and one of the judges—wanted us all to let our dogs loose in the room so they could run around and jump on one another.”
    â€œNo wonder the man with the Yorkie balked at that. It sounds like good common sense to me.”
    â€œIt sounded like common sense to all of us. Well, except Ben O’Donnell. He’d already turned Brando loose.”
    â€œHe would have. Anything to draw attention to himself.”
    â€œBy the way, does that Boxer bite?”
    â€œHow would I know?”