While groping and kissing MacArthur, Kori had managed to never let go of Silverado’s lead. She also never stopped chewing gum. I couldn’t imagine deep-kissing around a rubbery wad, but maybe that was because I’d never tried it. Maybe there was an art to passing it back and forth, and that was what turned MacArthur on.
I didn’t want to think about it.
Now Kori popped her gum and the leash at the same time. Silverado gave her his full and eager attention. She may have been a lousy handler in the ring and a genuine thorn in Susan’s side, but she seemed earnestly connected to the stunning dog.
“Come on, boy. It’s show time!” she said.
He woofed softly and wagged his curled whip of a tail.
“I’ll cheer you on,” I told her.
“Yeah, that’ll help. The judge will be impressed that you’re on my side.”
Kori blew a kiss to MacArthur; then she and Silverado loped gracefully away.
That left me in the awkward position of making conversation with the cleaner, a man who earned his living by erasing the mistakes of others. Who erased his mistakes? Making out with one woman while shacking up with another seemed like kind of a whopper.
“I have one thing to say, Whiskey, and one thing only. I hope you’ll give me a wee moment of your time.”
His burry brogue melted my defenses. I could too easily imagine its effect on Avery and Kori… and who knows how many other women.
“What?” Try as I might to sound annoyed, the question came out innocently curious.
“Please do not try to find me while we’re here at the show. I do my best work when I keep a low profile.”
That was not remotely what I had expected. I said, “You think I was looking for you, and that’s why-?”
“No time to chat now! You need to trust me.”
Like Avery should trust him?
“But how can a bodyguard do his job if nobody sees him?” I said. “Nobody but Kori, that is…”
MacArthur brushed a lock of black hair from his forehead. “I didn’t say nobody sees me. And now I must get back to work. We have a killer in our midst!”
“Before Mitchell Slater died, you thought we had a messenger in our midst.”
“Indeed. And now we know what the message was.”
“What was it?”
“Somebody was going to die. Somebody close to Susan Davies.”
“But not Susan Davies,” I said. “Does that mean she’s safe?”
“It’s too soon to tell. Fortunately, I’m here to protect her and those close to her.”
“Especially her niece.”
I couldn’t resist. But my comment had no effect on MacArthur.
“I’m watching out for you, too, Whiskey.”
“Really? If last night’s bullet had gone six inches to the right, that would have been me face down in the parking lot!”
“But it wasn’t you, was it? Because I’m on the job. And now I need to get back to it.”
He started toward the cornfield behind the exhibit hall.
“Can I call you?” I said.
MacArthur raised a brawny arm in what I assumed was an affirmative gesture.
“I check voicemail three times a day.”
With that he vanished among the drying cornstalks like the ghosts of young ballplayers in Field of Dreams.
When I re-entered the exhibit hall, nobody was smooching near the side entrance. In the show ring, I counted seven hounds with handlers. They had attracted at least fifty onlookers. Some sat in folding chairs; others stood around the circle. With “Bad Example” Kori in the competition, there was an added incentive for watching.
Kori’s hot-pink ensemble flared like neon next to the subdued outfits of her peers. The judge, a tall stately man with thick white hair, showed no reaction to her attire. He fixed his full and concentrated attention on the hounds, as was his duty. After scrutinizing them, he flashed a few hand signals appreciated by everyone except me. Bursts of applause and a flurry of movement followed. Hounds and handlers dashed around the ring, some exiting, some staying. Apparently, the judge had narrowed the field, excusing those dogs not selected to continue.
Across the ring from me, Susan stood alone, closely watching the competition. Matt was in the ring showing a dog the same size as Silverado but reddish colored with a dramatic black face. The Two L’s were there, too, each leading a blonde dog that reminded me of Abra, if only Abra had manners.
When Kori and Silverado got the nod to remain, I saw Susan’s face fold-for just a moment. Then she perked up and applauded.
So the Bad Example was not the worst handler, after all. Or, if she was, she knew how to show Silverado well enough to keep him in the competition.
Matt and his dog also remained. So did the Two L’s. I caught Matt and Kori exchanging grins. The Two L’s made a deliberate show of ignoring Susan’s niece.
As the action continued, I inferred what was happening: the judge was evaluating the “survivors” to determine their order of finish. Each handler showed his or her dog and then circled the ring again to a fresh round of applause. When it was Kori and Silverado’s turn, the applause was sparse and forced. Except for mine. I clapped hard and added a whistle as they ran past. That earned me a distinctly dirty look from Susan.
Hey, we Bad Examples gotta stick together.
As that round turned out, I had another opportunity to hoot and holler. Silverado, handled by Kori, finished first. Next was the dog that Matt handled, followed by the dogs shown by the Two L’s. Lauren and Lindsey briskly congratulated Matt and then swept past Kori as if she didn’t exist. No mean feat considering the brilliant glow of her apparel and the broad “eat shit” grin on her face.
I could only wish for luck like that on my upcoming Walk of Shame.
While I wasn’t looking, Susan had disappeared from her post near the ring. She couldn’t have predicted that outcome, which seriously weakened her case for Kori as Bad Example. Although it may have increased the value of her dog and her breeding program, Susan doubtless would have preferred to prove Kori a total loser.