The Silence of the Chihuahuas (22 page)

“What do you have in mind?” Pepe asked as soon as we were in my little green Toyota and heading down the hill toward home.

“Well, obviously we have to figure out the name of the guy who was arguing with Brad.”

“And how are you going to figure that out?” asked Pepe.

“I want to check the shop again,” I said. “Maybe I can find something the police missed.”

“Excellent!” said Pepe. “Exactly what I was going to suggest. My strategy to improve your skills is working nicely.”

He couldn't even let me take credit for an original thought, but had to insist that it was his idea first. That's my dog!

“You know, Geri,” he said, in a softer voice. “I am not a Love Dog, but I can tell you sent the wrong message to Felix when you left the party without saying good-bye to him. “

“What is a Love Dog?” I asked, not really wanting to talk about Felix.

“Apparently there is a reality TV show called
Love Dog
where a dog matches up single people by sniffing out their compatibility. Right now they have some big goofy golden retriever playing the part, but I think I would make a very nice Cupid. What do you think?”

“Yes, Pepe,” I agreed. “You would certainly make a good Love Dog.” I was a little distracted as it was raining heavily and I was at the bottom of the hill, trying to make a left turn.

“So what is your strategy with Felix?” he asked.

“I don't have a strategy,” I said, making my left turn.

“There are two ways to interpret your behavior,” said Pepe. “You are either being passive-aggressive and asking him to chase after you to find out what is wrong. Which might work, but it could backfire. Or you are ceding your property to the other women at the party. Neither is a good idea.”

“So says my dog,” I said bitterly. Brad's business was on the right. I pulled around the corner and drove into the narrow parking lot in back of the row of shops.

“Hey, I am a detective dog and a dog with many loves.”

“Yes, what's the story with Siren Song and Fuzzy? They are both females. Why aren't they jealous of each other?”

“Fuzzy is my sidekick rather than my amour and Siren Song is secure in my affections.”

The parking lot was empty. I was able to pull into the spot directly in back of Brad's shop. I turned off the car. “Until she finds out about Phoebe.” Phoebe was the lovely farm dog Pepe had been courting during our last case.

“Ah, yes, we should take a little trip to Sequim once this case is finished,” said Pepe in a dreamy voice.

It was raining when we got out of the car. I fumbled around in my purse for the key to the back of the shop. It creaked open and we both stepped in, out of the rain. I reached for the light switch and flipped it up. Nothing. I had forgotten the electricity was turned off.

“How am I going to find anything,” I asked Pepe, “without any light?”

“If we get to the front office, you will be able to see by the light of the streetlights,” said Pepe.

I looked at the dark cavernous space in front of me. “But I'm not sure I can make it that far.”

“I will lead you!” said Pepe. “Did I ever tell you about the time I was trained to be a sight dog?”

“That's pretty ridiculous, Pepe.” I said. “You're too small to be a sight dog.”

“I was a sight dog for a dwarf,” Pepe said

“If you mean a real person, and not a fairy tale creature,” I said, “you're not using the politically correct term.”

“That was his billing in the circus,” said Pepe. “Enrique the Blind Dwarf.”

“This is the same Mexican circus where you liberated the animals?” I asked.

“
Si
. That was after they fired me because Enrique tripped over me and broke his nose. The secret was that he was not blind. He just pretended to be so he could feel up the women in the audience, but he was drunk a lot and that was why he tripped over me. The circus owner didn't see it that way and I was dismissed.”

“Poor Pepe,” I said.

“Just hold onto my tail,” he said.

I bent down and put my hand on his tail. I was almost doubled over as we started out. Everything looked different from this perspective. A little light filtered in from the front room. Dark shapes loomed over me. Pepe was not a good guide dog. He seemed to think I was as slim and as tiny as he was. He kept zigging and zagging and knocking me into things off which other things tumbled and then shattered. Of course, it didn't help that everything had been moved around by the police.

As we got closer to the front of the shop, I straightened up. I pushed aside the heavy velvet curtain that hid the back room from the front showroom space. Suddenly my eyes were dazzled by the harsh light of the streetlights that flooded the room through the big front window. And Pepe squeaked in fear.

I jumped back, then saw he was reacting to another of the taxidermy animals Brad loves. This was a stuffed lynx sitting on top of a cabinet against the wall by the door.

“I will take the back of the shop,” Pepe told me, “while you reconnoiter this area. Between us, we can make short work of this.” He dashed under the curtain without waiting for my reply. One of the only things Pepe had ever been afraid of were cats, so I didn't even tease him about being scared of a stuffed one.

I opened the shoulder-high wooden cabinet that the lynx was sitting on. The lynx, too, appeared about ready to catch a meal—it was crouched down as if to spring, its pointy ears laid back, and was snarling, its long fangs exposed. I must admit, it gave me a little pause as I opened the cabinet door.

There was nothing on the three shelves inside except a very old can of walnut wood stain, a small and stiff natural bristle paintbrush that Brad must have forgotten to clean, and lots of dust.

Against another wall, behind the graceful French provincial table that Brad used as a desk, was an antique apothecary. More than six feet tall, with zillions of small drawers in it. I opened drawer after drawer until a very large (and thank God) very dead wolf spider fell out of it and bounced off my foot. Dead or not, I let out a yelp.

“What is it?” Pepe called out from the back. “Find something?”

“No,” I told him, not wanting to explain my fear of big, hairy spiders.

I checked the file cabinet again but it was still bereft of any paperwork. Not a single thing that indicated that Brad ever kept track of his clients on paper. Which really didn't surprise me.

“Have you seen a computer?” I called out to Pepe.

“No, Geri,” he said, “but I am hearing something I don't like.”

I stopped and listened, but all I heard was the rain beating on the window of the shop.

As I listened, I saw the unopened envelopes that had been addressed to Mrs Fairchild, still sitting on the desk where I had put them. I realized these must have been delivered on Saturday after the police had searched. That would explain why they had missed them.

“I think I found it!” I shouted, tearing open one of the envelopes. Sure enough, it contained a bill made out to Mrs Fairchild, written on fancy stationary in Brad's delicate handwriting, listing several items of furniture, a consultation fee, and painting services provided by Harry Richards. “The guy's name is Harry Richards!”

“This is not a good time to say anything,” said Pepe, and then he started growling.

I heard footsteps, then a loud thunk and a yelp. Followed by silence.

“Pepe, what happened? Are you OK?”

“No, he's not OK!” A figure appeared in the doorway, shoving the curtain aside. He was standing in the shadow so I couldn't see his face clearly, but I could tell by his silhouette that he was a big man with broad shoulders. He was wearing a leather jacket and heavy motorcycle boots.

“What did you do to my dog?”

“He got in my way,” he said. “I tripped over him. What are you doing here?”

“I just came by to pick up some paperwork,” I said. I waved the envelopes at him.

“Well, thank you,” he said, stepping forward into the light. The curtain swung shut behind him. I could see him better now. He was probably in his fifties. He was overweight and not terribly well-groomed. A musty smell came from him. He had long dark hair pushed back behind his ears, wet from the rain, and a thick beard in which rain drops glistened. His eyes were a startling shade of blue. “I've been looking for those too. Been watching the shop for days, hoping someone would show up.”

“I can't give them to you,” I said gaily. “Brad asked me to deliver these to him.”

“Brad?” He looked shaken at that. He even staggered back a little.

“Yes, Brad.”

“I thought he was dead,” he said, shaking his head.

“Why would you think that, Harry?” I asked.

“Because . . .” He faltered to a stop. “It doesn't matter. I need to get paid. And I need that invoice to prove what's owed me.”

“So you can collect it from Brad's estate?” I asked, trying to ascertain what he knew about Brad.

“Well, that's what I was thinking,” he said.

“What made you think Brad was dead?”

“Well, I saw him, didn't I? Lying in a pool of blood next to the old lady he killed. He probably tried to commit suicide after he killed her.”

“With a hammer?” I asked. “I've never heard of anyone killing themselves with a hammer.”

Then I heard Pepe's voice, a whisper coming from behind the curtain. “Do not dispute his version of events, Geri.”

“Are you OK?” I asked.

“I will be when you give me those papers,” said Harry, taking a step forward.

“I will be once we trap this murderer,” said Pepe. “Tell him there are more papers in the back room”

“But there aren't any more papers in the back room.”

“I have a plan,” said Pepe.

“What about the back room?” Harry asked.

“There are more papers back there,” I said. “Follow me!”

“I'm glad you are turning out to be obedient,” Harry said. He still had not taken his hand out of his pocket. “That's the way I like my women.”

I pushed aside the curtain and peered into the darkness of the back room. I still couldn't see anything except what the streetlights illuminated—a narrow path along the wall. I fumbled for the fancy gold ropes that Brad uses to tie back the curtains so there would be a little bit of light. Harry bumped into me. That's when I felt the gun at my back.

“You're going to do exactly what I say,” he said.

“Geri, you must do exactly what I say,” said Pepe.

“Yes, of course,” I said.

“I'm going to tie you up and then you're going to tell me where to find the rest of the papers,” Harry said.

“That is perfect!” Pepe said. “Tell him to use the cord by the door.”

“You've got to be kidding?”

“No, I'm not kidding,” Harry said, waving the gun at me. “If you're a good girl, I won't kill you.”

“It's part of my plan,” said Pepe. “Trust me!”

“Right!” I said to Pepe. “I suppose you're going to use that cord over there,” I said to Harry.

“Don't mind if I do,” he said happily.

I sat down in an arm chair near the doorway and Harry put the gun down on a cabinet behind him. Maybe Pepe was right. It was smart to separate the man from his gun. But Pepe couldn't reach it. And even if he could, he couldn't fire it. I really hoped he knew what he was doing. Especially as Harry picked up the length of white cord (it looked like drapery cord) and began twining it around my legs and the legs of the chair.

During previous encounters with malefactors, Pepe had usually made a run straight for their ankles. He could inflict some damage on an Achilles tendon with his tiny teeth. But this guy was wearing thick motorcycle boots.

“You know, I really didn't want to do it,” Harry said as he started twisting the cord around my arms and looping it around the back of the chair. “I'm really not a bad guy. That old lady just made me so angry. Calling me those names. Saying I was worthless. I had the hammer in my hand because I was trying to tamp down the cover of the paint can that was the cause of all the problems. The old lady insisted the color was all wrong and wanted me to do the whole job over. She made me so mad I got up and lunged at her and Brad got in the way. I didn't mean to hit him. In fact, I didn't hit him. He just ran into the hammer which was on its way down. But then he went down, and laid there, with all that blood gushing down his face.”

I could see tears running down Harry's face by the faint light that was filtering through the doorway, thanks to the looped-back curtain. When he went on, his voice was shaky. “Then the old lady started shrieking and saying she was going to call the police.”

His hands were shaking too. He was having a hard time tying off the knots. Remembering what I had read in detective novels, I had tried to puff myself up so the ropes would be loose when he was done, but he was doing a good job. I could feel them cutting into my flesh. I really hoped Pepe knew what he was doing.

“I knew I had to get rid of her because she was a witness. I didn't want to do it. And boy was she tough. She fought like a wildcat. Really, I know you're judging me but that was the hardest thing I've ever done—killing that old lady.”

He stopped and sat back on his heels. “They say it gets easier.” He shook his head. “I hope that's true.”

I didn't like the way that sounded. I had to think of something fast. “Brad's not dead you know.”