“Ah.” John nodded. “The other dog is fine. The dog… nanny? I don’t know what you’d call someone who watches your dogs.”
“Are you talking about Baron’s handler?” Chip said. “I used to be Baron and Zara’s handler before Bunny and Stewart divorced, and I’d often watch the dogs during the day, especially leading up to a show. The handler lost Baron?”
“Bunny said he’d let Baron out before he left for the day, so she didn’t think anything was wrong for a while.”
Chip was shaking his head. “So irresponsible for the handler to let him roam outside. I would never have let that happen. He’s an intact male and his roaming instincts are very strong, especially if there’s a bitch in the neighborhood.”
John Marcos was staring at Chip. “Excuse me?”
“Dog bitch.” Evy jumped in. “He means a female dog. Literally a female dog.”
“Oh.”
“Of course,” Chip said. “What did you think I—?”
“The estate is fenced, but it backs up to the hills, so it’s not out of the question that an animal could have gotten to him, but a standard poodle isn’t a Pekinese. It wouldn’t make an easy snack for a mountain lion or a coyote the way a cat or a small dog would.”
Chip looked ill. “Bunny must be going insane. Baron and Zara are her entire world.”
Evy raised her hand. “Listen, I don’t want to be crass or uncaring about Baron going missing, but is anyone talking about the fact that this dog had half a million dollars hanging around his neck?”
John smirked. “Yeah,” he said. “I have thought about it.”
“I mean, I know the dog is valuable but—”
“I don’t think you realize how valuable he is.” Chip sounded indignant. “Baron is probably the most valuable poodle in the country right now. He’s one of the only remaining males from a very prominent breeding program in Germany that can be traced back to the 1700s and the German royal family. He’s irreplaceable.”
“But so is his collar,” Evy said. “I don’t want to insult Baron, but let’s be honest, a lot of people are going to see a dog wearing a Cartier necklace and think ‘some people just have too much money.’”
John hadn’t taken his eyes off Chip. “Mr. Dunklin, I understand there was bad blood between you and Mrs. Barker after she let you go?”
Chip’s mouth was catching flies again. “I beg your pardon.”
“Is it true? Did you and Bunny hate each other?”
“Not at all!” Chip’s eyes darted around the room from Evy to John to her dressing table and back. “I mean… I-I wasn’t happy that she wanted a new handler, but I understood. Stewart had been the one to hire me, and I always got on with the man.” He threw up his hands. “But Bunny and I have buried the hatchet, as you say here. She even recommended me for this job.”
“I need to ask where you were yesterday morning between six and seven a.m.”
“This is outrageous.” Chip crossed his arms over his chest. “I came here to lend some legitimacy to your little dog show, and now you’re asking me—”
“It’s a simple question, Mr. Dunklin.” John pointed at Evy. “I’m going to ask her too.”
Evy frowned. “Me?”
“Yeah.” He looked at his notebook. “I believe Bunny mentioned that you might have been tempted to steal Baron by spending time around people who were—and these were her words—‘not Miss Lane’s typical social crowd.’”
Evy wanted to snort and laugh at the same time. “Well, at least I know what Bunny really thinks of me now. She’s still pissed Lorain hired me.” She looked at Chip. “Six in the morning? I was at home sleeping.”
John asked, “Can anyone verify that?”
“My aunt Marie was home, but she was sleeping too. I didn’t see her before I left for brunch.”
John looked at Chip. “You?”
“At my hotel,” Chip said through clenched teeth. “Alone. Are we done now?”
“You both essentially told me you don’t have alibis for the time the dog went missing,” John said. “I guess it goes without saying, but you should not leave town until we get some clarity on this.”
Evy spread her hands. “I live here. Where am I going to go?”
“I’ll be hosting the dog show, per my contract.” Chip’s accent had grown stiffer. “Then I will be leaving for London as I had planned. You have no evidence that I had anything to do with this because I didn’t.”
John nodded slowly. “As I said, Mr. Dunklin, I’m just asking questions right now. Thanks for your cooperation.” He looked at Evy. “Miss Lane, I’ll see you later.”
Why?
She didn’t say it out loud, but she didn’t have any desire to get involved in this investigation. She felt sorry for the dog, but not enough to put her mental health at risk, which was exactly what John Marcos was going to want.
Stretch her psychic muscles over a missing dog? Nope. Not worth the pain and mental stress.
The vendor market at the Desert Fancy Kennel Club Dog Show was shaping up to be a microcosm of Palm Canyon Drive. Though none of the vendors could officially set up until Tuesday, they were allowed to bring in supplies and direct the carpenters on-site to customize the booths to their specifications.
While the dogs took center stage in front of the giant curtain, the marketplace was the focus behind. There were satin, designer dog carriers, and rhinestones. So. Many. Rhinestones.
“I guess they know their audience, huh?”
Evy turned to see John Marcos staring at the massive gateway being constructed to highlight the shops.
Evy smiled a little. “We’re dealing with an entire community of people with gobs of disposable income, very few children at home, and a pathological need to one-up their neighbors,” Evy said. “People spend way too much on dogs.”
He sat in a ragged blue chair and kicked his heels up on a sawhorse. “Can’t say I disagree. What’s your read on Chip Dunklin?”
“Don’t have one,” Evy said. “At least not the kind you want. We’ve been writing material together for the show; that’s about it.”
John frowned. “You haven’t gotten anything from…” He pointed to his temple. “Really? Nothing?”
“I take medication for that.” She smiled. “It’s literally the only thing that keeps me sane.”
“I thought your puppet guy helped with that.”
“Geoff?” She had to laugh. “No. I used to have to carry Geoff to hear other people. He was like a microphone. Then whatever it was that made me… hear… It’s like it grew. Then I heard everything all the time.” She leaned toward him. “Now I hear nothing, and I like it that way. Thank you, drugs.”
“You can’t just listen in when you want to?
“Oh right. Maybe I should try that. Like…” She snapped her fingers. “I got it.” She held up her hand. “Don’t see this, okay? Just don’t see it.” She flipped him off. “How did that go?”