Hounded to Death Read Online Free

That’s not even remotely the same.”
    â€œThere’s always Richard,” I said without thinking. As soon as the words were out, I could have kicked myself.
    Aunt Peg arched a brow. “That’s putting the cart before the horse, don’t you think?”
    â€œOr maybe giving the milk away for free?” said Bertie.
    â€œNobody’s going to be giving anything away.” Peg was firm. “For free or otherwise. At least not until we test the waters a bit and see how compatible we are in person. That is supposed to be the purpose of dating another person, isn’t it? Things can’t have changed that much since the last time I was out and about.”
    â€œDon’t look to us for dating information,” Bertie said. “Melanie and I are just a couple of old married ladies. If there’s any excitement to be had this week, you’re the one who’s going to have to supply it.”
    â€œHow very depressing for you, as I intend to have a rather peaceful week myself. I’m simply going to give my Poodle lecture, attend a few judiciously chosen seminars, and maybe enjoy a quiet dinner or two with Richard if time permits.”
    â€œRight,” I snorted.
    Like most things, Aunt Peg seemed able to manipulate time to suit her will. And unless I missed my guess, Richard was going to find himself being rushed off his feet.
    I snapped my suitcase shut. The small noise was enough to draw Bertie’s attention.
    She surveyed the results of my efforts, then looked at her own, still-full suitcase sitting on the floor by the door. Immediately she rolled off the bed, grabbed her bag, and dragged it over to the room’s single dresser where I had already staked out two of the three drawers.
    â€œDon’t you have to, like, pee or something?” she asked.
    Actually I did. But we had traveled together before and I knew perfectly well that Bertie had no honor when it came to her wardrobe and the concept of first dibs. There was no way I was letting her unpack unsupervised.
    â€œDon’t think I don’t know what you’re thinking.” I shoved the middle drawer shut with my knee. “You snooze, you lose.”
    Aunt Peg looked at us. “Are you two going to be like this all week?”
    â€œProbably,” I said.
    Bertie nodded.
    â€œI was afraid of that,” said Peg.

3
    T he reception was supposed to start at six-thirty, but even before the appointed time people began to gather in a cozy bar area off the lobby. When that room was full, partygoers spilled out into the great room where a roaring fire crackled in the fireplace.
    The idea of being fashionably late is a concept entirely unknown to Aunt Peg. Immediate gratification is more her style. And since Bertie and I had accompanied her downstairs, that meant we were among the first to arrive. By the time a crowd had begun to gather, we already had our drinks and had staked out a prime location near the door.
    Aunt Peg watched that portal like a hawk, alternately greeting or commenting on the new arrivals. While I was busy reading the name badges that most people had affixed to their lapels, Aunt Peg seemed to know just about everyone on sight.
    â€œTubby Mathis,” she said, when a portly man with bushy eyebrows and thinning hair entered the room. “He judges hounds, after a fashion. I can’t imagine what he’s doing here. His mind is a closed book. I don’t think he’s learned a single new thing in the last decade.”
    â€œMaybe he’s hoping to get laid,” Bertie said.
    I choked on my Shirley Temple.
    â€œThen he must be an optimist,” Peg said, dismissing him.
    A well-matched, middle-aged couple came through the door next. If it’s a truism that longtime dog owners often look like their dogs, it’s equally true that longtime spouses also tend to acquire a similar veneer. Both members of this pair were fit and tan, as if they’d just