Once Bitten (A Melanie Travis Mystery) by Laurien Berenson Page A

over to see for herself. “With maybe a few ex-fiancés thrown in for good measure.”
    She stopped in front of one frame, her finger reaching out to poke at the glass. “That one’s Josh. Funny she’d keep a picture of him around.”
    “Who’s Josh?”
    “My cousin. Actually I was the one who introduced them. At the time it seemed like a great idea. But what started as a hot romance ended up fizzling pretty quickly.”
    “Flattering photo,” I said, picking it up. Josh was a good-looking guy. His fair coloring and chiseled features provided a pleasing contrast to Sara’s darker, more exotic looks. The picture had been taken on a sailboat, probably out on Long Island Sound. “Sara seems to have chronicled a whole bunch of romances up here. Why are you surprised she’d keep Josh’s picture?”
    “I don’t know.” Bertie shrugged. “What I heard was mostly Josh’s side, so I guess my feelings were colored by that. But I know he thought things ended badly, and he was pretty bitter about it. Let’s just say you won’t find any pictures of Sara, flattering or not, sitting out at his place.”
    I glanced back down the row of photos. “I wonder if any of these guys are more current. Do you know if Sara has a boyfriend now?”
    “Probably. Only because there always seems to be somebody. But as to who it is, I wouldn’t have any idea.”
    “Maybe we’ll find an address book,” I said, walking out of the living room. A small kitchen, with a dining area off of it, was in the rear of the cottage. Passing a narrow staircase that led up to a sleeping loft, I headed that way. “Or if we’re really lucky there’ll be a message on the answering machine.”
    “Declaring undying love and leaving a phone number?” Bertie laughed. “Only if you lead a charmed life.”
    The first thing I noticed about the kitchen was that nearly the entire back wall of the room was made of glass. A large picture window looked out over the clearing, and several bird feeders hung from the branches outside. Considering that it was November, business was brisk: some sparrows and a blue jay were currently enjoying Sara’s largesse.
    The second thing I noticed were the dog bowls on the floor. There were three altogether, one for water and two filled with dry kibble. Though Titus probably weighed less than half what Faith did, his stainless-steel bowls were huge—easily larger than the ones I used to feed my Poodle.
    Bertie followed the direction of my gaze and guessed what I was thinking. “Who knows? Maybe Sara leaves food out like that all the time so she won’t forget to feed him.”
    “Forget?” It was hard to keep the censure from my voice. I’d no more forget to feed Faith than I would Davey.
    Bertie gestured toward the back door. “I know she had that doggie door installed so she wouldn’t have to be bothered letting him in and out all the time.”
    Aunt Peg would have been happy to tell Sara that dog ownership was a privilege, not a bother. Since neither of them was there, however, I decided not to comment.
    “At any rate, it looks as though Sara must have taken Titus with her. That’s probably a good sign, don’t you think?”
    “Maybe.” Bertie still wasn’t convinced. She walked over to the answering machine on the counter. Not unexpectedly, its light was blinking. “That’s strange.”
    “What?”
    “I left several messages on this machine, and I know there were a bunch of others. It’s one of the older models. You can tell how many messages there are by how long you have to wait for the beep.”
    “So?”
    “It says there’s only one message on here. I called Sara on Monday and Tuesday, then left a third message yesterday.”
    Diverted from the dog bowls, I walked over and had a look. “Well, either the machine is broken or else someone has come in and wiped the messages clean.”
    “See?” said Bertie. “I told you something was wrong.”
    I reached over and pushed the play button. “Unless