Chihuahua Confidential (9 page)

Ted was suddenly in a rush to get rid of me. We raced back across town. There was just as much traffic this way, but he employed his shortcuts and soon we were pulling up in front of the hotel.

Ted stepped out of the car and handed his keys to the valet.

“No need to see me to my door,” I said as I untangled myself from my seat belt.

“Oh, I wasn't intending to,” he said. “My meeting is here at the hotel.”

“Oh!”

He gave me a quick hug, then hurried away toward the pool area.

“What was that about?” I asked.

“Let us see who he meets, Geri,” suggested Pepe, scurrying after him.

Although normally I would not condone such behavior, I had to follow my dog. Just in case there was a bigger dog at the pool that hassled him.

We followed a slate path that led past glossy green elephant ears and giant ferns and caught sight of Ted just as he was knocking on the door of Rebecca's bungalow. We ducked behind a potted palm, but Rebecca wasn't paying attention to us. She gave Ted the standard Hollywood greeting—a double kiss, one on each cheek—and then pulled him inside.

“Do not worry, Geri,” said Pepe. “She cannot hold a candle to you in terms of beauty and youth. However, she does have
mucho dinero
.”

“Money isn't everything,” I said, although it did seem to be the major motivator in L.A.

“What would Jimmy G do in this situation?” I wondered.

And Pepe answered, “He would investigate. And so will we.” He ran at the door of the cottage, barking.

“But, Pepe,” I said, rushing after him, “we can't just go barging in without some reason.”

“We will come up with a story,” said Pepe, “like the detectives do on TV.”

“Like what?”

“We will say that I was pining away with
amor
for Siren Song and pulled you here against your will.” He began barking and scratching at the door.

“Well, that is certainly true,” I said.

“Remember, you must pretend surprise when you see Ted!” Pepe advised me as the door swung open. It was not Rebecca, but Luis, Rebecca's hunky bodyguard and Siren Song's dance partner.

“Where's Rebecca?” I started, but then remembered our cover story. “Pepe wanted to play, and I thought I'd see if Siren Song was available. They play so well together.”

“If only,” said Pepe in a dreamy voice before hurrying past Luis and down the hall. I followed Pepe and Luis followed me.

“Rebecca's in a meeting,” he said as we entered the living room, with its bank of windows overlooking a terrace. Rebecca was sitting in an armchair with a drink in her hand, and Ted was sitting across from her, his knees almost touching hers, leaning in, addressing her in passionate tones. He looked up, saw me, and broke off.

“Geri!” said Rebecca, turning her head and spotting me. “What are you doing here?”

“Pepe!” I said, holding out my hands as if to say,
“What can you do with a dog like Pepe?”
Of course, Pepe was nowhere around, so it didn't help my credibility.

“Well, this is a private conversation,” Rebecca said. She looked at Ted, then back at me. “I have to meet with all of the choreographers every night to work out the plan for the next day's dances.”

“I thought that was a decision made by the dance instructor working with the team,” I said, trying to prolong the conversation.

“Don't be ridiculous!” Rebecca said, setting down her glass. “It's reality TV.” She gave a short laugh, looked at Ted, and shook her head. She held up a thick sheaf of paper that had been lying in her lap and tapped it with her fingernail. “It's all scripted.”

“Hollywood, baby,” said Ted, leaning back in his chair. He seemed like an entirely different person. Gone was the earnest activist. Now his lip actually curled. Was he putting on an act for Rebecca? Or had he been putting on an act for me earlier?

Pepe came running into the room with Siren Song at his heels. I wanted him to hear what Rebecca had just told me.

“So it's not random?” I asked. “The assignments?”

Rebecca laughed. “No. We figure that all out ahead of time.”

“How?” I asked.

“When the little dog comes into the room with the tags for you to choose your dance, all the tags have the same dance on them,” she said. “We've already assigned it. We just change all the tags each time he enters a room.”

“What else?” I asked. “The costumes? The dance routines? The judges' scores?”

“Well, obviously some of it we can't dictate,” Rebecca said. “The accidents are sometimes the best bits.”

“Like a fight between two dogs?” I asked, thinking of what Jake had told me.

“Hmmm,” said Rebecca. “That's an interesting idea.” She winked at Ted.

“Do you mean the whole show is fixed?” Pepe asked. He was so indignant he had momentarily forgotten about Siren Song.

“I can't believe you would do that!” I said.

“Come on, Geri,” said Ted. “It's reality TV. You don't think those shows are real, do you?”

“And this is just a pilot,” said Rebecca. “We want to manage the results so the show has a real chance of being picked up.”

“What about the winner?” I asked. “Do you already know who will win?”

Rebecca smiled, a strange, smug smile. “Actually we don't know that,” she said. “We're still in negotiations.”

“What do you mean negotiations?” I asked.

“Let's just say, money talks,” Rebecca said. “Now run along.” She snapped her fingers, and Siren Song ran over to her. Rebecca picked her up and put her on her lap. “I have business to conduct.”

“What does she mean negotiating?” Pepe asked as Luis whisked us out the door.

“I'm not sure,” I said, “but I think she meant that she might sell the win to whoever pays the most money.”

“That is outrageous!” Pepe said as we headed up the stairs to our room. But by the time he had settled down on the pillow on top of the bed, he had changed his attitude. “Is there any way we can raise a large sum of money, Geri?”

I thought about that. Pepe knew I had spent most of the money we had earned on our last case catching up on my mortgage payments. But if Pepe truly belonged to Caprice, and she gave me a reward for returning him to her, well, that would certainly be enough to make sure Pepe won
Dancing with Dogs
. I wondered. If it was a choice between fame or me, which would he choose?

I went to call room service and noticed the red message light on my telephone. I picked it up, hoping it was Felix. But it was a message from my counselor, Susanna, calling from Seattle: “Geri, I'm worried about you. You promised to check in with me every day, and I haven't heard from you. I'll give you my cell phone number. Please call me as soon as you get this message!”

Oops! I had been so busy with the show and investigating, my life in Seattle seemed like a dream. I called the cell phone number, and Susanna answered on the second ring.

“Geri! How are you?”

“I'm fine,” I said.

“I was so worried when I didn't hear from you.” She sounded relieved.

“I've been a little distracted,” I said.

“Why is that?”

“Well, did you hear about the murder?”

“What murder?” Her voice got sharp.

“Nigel St. Nigel.”

“The mean judge from
So You Wanna Be a Star
? Yes, I heard about that. What does that have to do with you?”

“His body was found on our set. And, of course, because Pepe thinks he's a detective . . .”

“I
am
a detective,” said Pepe, looking up from his show. “Do I not have a card with my name on it?”

“Yes, you do,” I said. “So, anyway, Pepe insisted on investigating—”

“Is someone else in the room with you?”

“Just Pepe.”

“There is no ‘just' when speaking of Pepe,” said Pepe.

“So you are talking to him?”

“Actually he's talking to me.”

There was a long silence on the other end. I thought I should break it. I was eager to address my biggest concern. “He thinks he once belonged to Caprice Kennedy, the movie star.”

“
Sí
, I am certain!
”
said Pepe.

“It sounds like you don't believe him.”

“Well, he did find his way to her house, but”—I lowered my voice to a whisper—“there are some contraindications.”

“I do understand that word,” Pepe said in a cross voice. “And if you mean the fact that Caprice did not recognize me, that is sad but true. Luckily she seems to be coming around.” He stuck out his pink tongue and licked his nose, a gesture of satisfaction. Or maybe he was just looking for crumbs left over from his dinner. Didn't he understand how his comments about Caprice made me feel?

“Naturally I'm terrified. What if she reclaims him?”

Pepe looked at me thoughtfully, then came over and sat in my lap.

“So you are worried that your dog will leave you to live with a movie star?” Susanna asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“You would be abandoned again. Like when your parents died. And your ex-husband left you.”

“That's true.” I was thoughtful.

“I know that's painful to contemplate.”

I thought about that. Was it true? That I was getting my dog mixed up with past sorrows?

Susanna spoke up. “Geri, is there any way I can talk you into returning to Seattle? I think you have more support systems there.”

“No, we're doing really well in the competition. Pepe would never leave until he wins
Dancing with Dogs
.”

“Until
we
win!” said Pepe, giving me some credit.

 

 

Our dance for the third day of the competition was a salsa, a dance that Pepe took to as if it had been bred into him. Our choreographer was Sofia, a sexy Latina with long brunette hair that she liked to toss around and a voluptuous body that she poured into a tight spandex jumpsuit. She adored Pepe and he adored her. He sauntered back and forth on his hind legs, wiggling his little hips left and right.

I had a much more difficult time. My hips didn't seem to move much at all, and apparently I was bouncing up when I was supposed to be getting down. “Think of the floor as your enemy. You are grinding him beneath your heel,” said Sofia. The music was fast and infectious. A cheerful blend of horns and strings that could drive a truck right through a brick wall. The routine involved much circling around and advancing forward and backing up for me and Pepe.

 

 

About halfway through the rehearsal, I heard a lot of barking and growling. We dashed down the hall and saw a group of people gathered around the doorway of one of the rooms. Inside, Max, the poodle, was snarling and snapping at the German shepherd. Ted was in the room, trying to pull the German shepherd away by the hindquarters. He was shouting at the other people in the room, giving them instructions, but everyone was standing around frozen. And the poodle kept rushing at the shepherd, jaws snapping, teeth slashing.

Jake, the Certified Animal Safety Representative, rushed in behind me. He saw Ted and stopped for a moment, startled, but then he grabbed the hind legs of the poodle.

“Good work!” he said to Ted. “Now circle him so he can't bite you.” They both began to walk their dogs around like wheelbarrows in big circles. The dogs kept turning their heads to snap at each other, but they couldn't reach the other dog.

“Whose dog is supposed to be in this room?” Jake asked.

“It's the shepherd's room,” said Ted. “We were working on a routine when the poodle came dashing in.” He looked over at Rebecca, who was standing on the edge of the crowd next to Maxine, the poodle's owner. Neither one of them seemed too concerned.

“OK.” Jake edged the poodle toward the door. “Everybody out,” he said. “Let the dogs calm down. I'll call the vet to come and check out both dogs.”

In a few minutes, the fight was over and the crowd slowly dispersed. I saw Rebecca go over and talk to Ted. Had they set up the fight to have some good footage for the show? It seemed the opposite of what Ted would want. But then again he would have film to show that the dogs were being harmed during the production of the show.

 

 

As soon as we arrived at the soundstage, we ran into Alice, the vet.

“I forgot my scanner,” she said. “But I could check your dog to see if he has a chip.”

“I don't know if this is a good time,” I said. I didn't really want to discuss chips in front of Pepe, so I tried to hurry him along.

“It is always a good time for chips,” said Pepe, slowing down and looking up at her. “I love chips, especially Cheetos.”

“I should be able to tell if he has one,” Alice said, picking him up and running her fingers along his back. She paused, digging her fingers into the folds of loose fur around his neck.

“
¡Sí!
That is the spot!” said Pepe. “It has always been bumpy.”

Alice looked thoughtful. “Definitely chipped!” she said. “Do you want to feel it?”

“When is she going to give us the chips?” Pepe asked.

“We'll go get them right now,” I said, taking Pepe away from Alice. “Thank you!” I said.

“I'll bring my scanner tomorrow,” she said.

“We do not need a scanner for the chips like in the supermarket,” said Pepe. “They have free chips for the taking right here on the craft service table.”

 

 

I got Pepe some Cheetos before heading for the costume room. I'd been worried about the costumes for the salsa since they tended to be scanty for the Latin dances. I was right to be worried. While Pepe looked adorable in a glittery vest, my dress was merely a bunch of sequins sewn onto a flesh-colored net. Even worse, I was supposed to wear it with four-inch-high gold heels.

I almost stumbled going down the stairs, and although I managed to regain my composure and get through the number, I was not impressed by our performance. I was shaken by the thought that Pepe really was chipped. And Pepe was off as well. He seemed to be distracted by something that was happening offstage.

Our scores turned out to reflect my opinion. Beverly gave us an eight (“for teamwork”), Miranda gave us a seven (“for good partnering”), and Caprice gave us a six. Pepe was crushed. For the first time, we were in the bottom two and had to stand onstage while the camera zoomed in on our faces. I was trying not to cry. And I could feel Pepe trembling in my arms.

But it was the German shepherd who got sent home. I bet Ted was disappointed. It was the first time a routine he had choreographed—in this case, a disco number—got the lowest scores.

 

 

After the performance, there was always a bit of a letdown. We had to go back to makeup and costumes and get everything undone. I always felt more comfortable when I was back in my jeans and a cotton blouse. But Pepe and I were both dejected by our brush with failure. I realized that I was just as invested as Pepe in winning.

We were leaving makeup and heading for the door when Jimmy G came rushing up, yelling, “It's gotta be here! It's gotta be here!”

“What?” I asked.

“The package!” he yelled, clutching at his tie as if it were strangling him. “It wasn't at Klamp's house, so it's got to be here!”

“You went to Rodney's house?”

“What did Jimmy G just say?”

“And he wasn't there?”

“What? Are you an echo?”

“I guess he wasn't there,” said Pepe.

“Only the damned police,” said Jimmy G. “And they wanted to know why Jimmy G was on the scene. Seemed to think Klamp might be in some kind of trouble and had the nerve to accuse Jimmy G of gunning for him. Jimmy G will gun for him, for sure, if he made off with my package!” His face was a fiery red, especially his nose. “They took Jimmy G down to the police station and grilled Jimmy G all night. Jimmy G just got out in time for your performance.” He turned and gave me a wink. “Wouldn't have missed that for anything! You dress up nice, doll!”

“Thanks.”

“Jimmy G did get a chance to look around before the coppers showed up. No package anywhere. So either that Klamp made off with it, or it's still here somewhere.”

He looked around. Most of the lights were off, creating dark shadows around the edges of the soundstage.

“Where did you last see the package?” Jimmy G asked. “It was back here somewhere, right?”

“Over there,” I said, pointing to the greenroom. “I set it down in the greenroom. I asked Rodney to put it someplace safe. If Rodney picked it up and moved it, he could have put it anywhere.”

Jimmy G scoured the greenroom, then headed for the area behind it, which also happened to be the place where the techs piled all of the equipment that was either broken or not in use. There were canvases and ladders, coils of wire, and banks of lights. Jimmy G dove into the pile and started pushing things around, making a terrible clatter.

“Stop it! You'll get us in trouble!” I looked around, sure that someone would come running thanks to all the noise Jimmy G was making. But then it got worse.

“Good God Almighty!” Jimmy G shrieked. He had thrown back a canvas, and now he stared down at the object he had uncovered. He looked at me, his face a pale moon in the dim light of the corner. I heard footsteps running toward us.

“What is it?” I said. “Did you find the package?”

“No, he did not,” said Pepe.

“No, Jimmy G found a body!”