Page 16 of Death on Gallows Path

“That older man with the cute little black dog — what kind of dog is that?”

With Clara’s questions and comments, sliding from dogs to humans and back, we learned that the cute little black dog was a miniature poodle-soft-coated Wheaten terrier mix.

“More common to see them in the goldy-beige color range. She picked up the black from her miniature poodle genes,” Donna said. “Smart as the dickens. Oscar has his hands full.”

His wife had picked out the puppy last summer and started the training, but the woman died a few months later.

“He’s got no experience training or with dogs in general,” Donna said, not unsympathetically. “Couldn’t have blamed him if he rehomed Quasar. He’s doing the right thing, taking classes. Started last fall and he’s working up consistently.”

We learned similar blends of information on most of the other dog-human pairings in the class, skipping over Berrie and the Bostons.

Since we’d covered last night’s attendees with the exception of two dogs and their owners, Clara’s sideways look toward Donna prepared me. Probably Donna, too.

“Those two young dogs,” Clara said, “the doodle and the Belgian Malinois were interesting, weren’t they? Haven’t seen them here at the dog park. Have you, Donna?”

“No. Be better if we did. Both breeds need consistent exercise, especially as young as those two are. Though when it comes to their breeds . . . Closest a working-line Belgian Malinois came to that puppy’s family tree was to lift a leg on it. And—”

Clara spluttered with barely suppressed laughter.

“—Damon Swindell’s family tree wouldn’t deserve that much consideration.”

That pulled laughter from me.

“What did his family tree do—?”

I knew Donna wasn’t going to elaborate on her low opinion of the Swindell family tree before she cut off my question. “People like him think a breed like a Malinois is a badge to cover up their insecurities. Animals deserve better. A real Malinois should have expert training. That pup needs strong training and lots of work to keep him happy and out of trouble. Not a selfish excuse for a man . . .”

Her voice dipped into a phrase of imaginative disgust.

I would have let the insults play out. Never hurts for a writer to pick up a few new phrases.

But Clara asked, “What sort of dog do you think Lucifer is?”

“Could be any mix of dozens,” Donna said. “Carolina dog, a little shepherd, a dash of terrier. Wouldn’t be surprised if that black snout comes from black mouth cur, which is itself a mix. Cute as the dickens, but that’s as close to Lucifer as he gets. At least until Damon Swindell ruins him.”

That sentiment turned all of us serious.

“Do you know much about them? The people, I mean. I hear both couples live in that new area by the golf course.” Clara had made good use of her time in town this morning with all the information she’d picked up. “When they were first building out there, I drove around and looked at them. With those prices I didn’t dare go inside.”

“Damon’s family’s from the southern edge of the county. Airs.” The single word described and condemned. “Understand the two women went to UK together, thick as thieves.”

When I first moved to Haines Tavern, I’d interpreted UK as meaning the United Kingdom, which had caused a couple mental disconnects, particularly why my mail carrier was in mourning about a British team losing a basketball game.

I soon learned the default meaning here of UK was the University of Kentucky, ninety minutes or so south of us in Lexington.

If the United Kingdom was the secondary meaning for that initialism, it ranked so far back it couldn’t be seen as a dot on the distant horizon.

And, yes, it is an initialism, not an acronym. Acronym is when you pronounce the initial letters as if they created a word — NASA — while initialism is speaking each letter — NFL.

Ask me how I know.

I got it wrong in my first days as the public persona of Abandon All and Kit corrected me, since the author of that book should know.

Donna added, “Those two women were the driving forces behind the couples buying places a block apart. Dragged the husbands along.”

Thinking of his handling of poor Lucifer, Damon Swindell struck me as more of a dragger than a draggee.

“Interesting. The two women remain good friends, huh?” Clara asked.