Chihuahua Confidential

by Waverly Curtis

  “This sounds familiar,” said Pepe. “Something like this happened to me once.”

  “This is not the time for one of your stories,” I told him.

  “What stories?” asked Caprice.

  “Never mind,” I said. “Did Jennifer get a good look at him? Or the car?”

  “No. She said the guy wore a black ski mask. And the van was white.”

  “How do you know it was a kidnapping?”

  “I got a call asking for ransom. About an hour later. After I had fired Jennifer.”

  “You fired Jennifer?”

  “Yes, I mean, she let my precious Pepe get run over by a car. And then she let some guy steal Princess right from under her nose.”

  “Good! I never liked her,” said Pepe. “She is part of that bad memory.”

  “What do they want?” I asked.

  “They want money! That’s no problem. I’ve got it right here.” Caprice patted the bulging red patent leather purse sitting next to her on the sofa. “The problem is the delivery. I’m waiting for a call now. They said I had to come alone. And Rebecca says I can’t leave. And my manager says I can’t go without a bodyguard.”

  “Those shopgirls thought you were a stand-in for Caprice. You could pretend to be her,” Pepe said.

  “What if we delivered the money for you?” I asked.

  “How could you do that?” Caprice asked.

  “I could pretend to be you. We have all the tools we need right here in the costume shop and in makeup.”

  “Say you will drive her car, Geri!” Pepe said.

  “I could drive your Ferrari, too,” I offered.

  “That is brilliant!” said Caprice. She leaped up and hugged me. “If you get Princess Pepe back, I’ll give you a reward. I can’t believe you would do this for me.”

  That was generous of her. And I had to admit that I was secretly hoping that if I gave her back Princess Pepe, it would make it OK for me to keep my Pepe.

  “Oh!” she said suddenly. “But you can’t do it. You have to perform.”

  “That’s true,” I said, sobered. “It’s the final performance. All the other dogs have been eliminated.”

  “Except for the imposter,” Pepe said.

  “Pepe would hate it if we missed the final performance.”

  “Especially if that fake won instead!” Pepe said. “But we have no choice, Geri. We must help Caprice. Fame and fortune are nothing when we can save the life of a precious dog.”

  Caprice was overjoyed. She gave me the dress right off her back (it was a sparkly short silver number that reminded me of tinfoil) and borrowed another dress from Robyn in the costume area. Robyn outfitted me with a pair of sparkly heels, a blond wig, and a pair of sunglasses to complete the disguise. In fact, it was so effective that when Jimmy G came strolling into the costume shop, he thought I was Caprice. The real Caprice was in the makeup area trying to conceal the effects of her grief.

  “Where’s Geri?” he asked Pepe.

  I had to take off my sunglasses and my wig before he could recognize me.

  “It’s great you’re here,” I told Jimmy G. “We need your help.”

  “Well, Jimmy G needs your help as well,” he said. “Turns out that Hollywood Parcel Service is just a front. Tried to go to the address they gave and found it’s actually about a mile out in the Pacific Ocean. Something fishy is going on.”

  Just then, Caprice came running up, waving her cell phone. “I just got the call. They want me to meet them at three p.m. at the La Brea Tar Pits at the Giant Sloth statue. I described what I was wearing—I mean what you’re wearing. And I told them if they didn’t give me Princess first, I wouldn’t give them the money.”

  Chapter 30

  We pulled into the main parking lot at the La Brea Tar Pits at about a quarter to three. I was driving Caprice’s red Ferrari and Jimmy G was going to meet us there. He was driving his rental car. It was crowded on a Friday afternoon, and I had to keep driving around looking for a parking spot. I was pretty nervous. Even though we had given ourselves plenty of time, I was worried about being late for our appointment with the dognapper.

  I wasn’t sure whether to be happy or frustrated that he had chosen this spot for our meeting. At least it was public, so I didn’t think we would be in any danger. And I had always wanted to see the Tar Pits, not to mention the museum next door. Not much chance of that, with so much at stake.

  As if reading my mind, Pepe said, “You would love the Tar Pits, Geri. They contain bones going back eons, including the bones of my largest forebear, the dire wolf.”

  “Since when have you been interested in paleontology?” I asked.

  “Since Caprice took me here for the first time and I saw the skeleton of that fearsome beast at the museum.”

  “Oh,” I said. “I’m glad you had such a good time the last time you were here.” I was annoyed by how often he brought Caprice into the conversation. “But this is serious—”

  “Uno momento, Geri,” he said. “I am most serious. Deadly serious. Some of my formidable ancestor’s blood still courses through my veins. When I get my paws on that dognapper, I will attack as ferociously as any dire wolf!” For emphasis, he reared up at the side window and loosed a terrifying “Grrrrrrrrr!”

  When we finally found a parking place, Pepe was still in wolf mode. He bounded out of the car, growling, but stopped abruptly when he got to the edge of the parking lot.

  “Holy guacamole!” he said.

  “What is it, Pepe? What’s the matter?”

  “The ninos,” he said. “They are everywhere!”

  He was right. The green lawns that surrounded the low-slung museum were covered with laughing, running, crying children. Dozens of them. Pepe is not afraid of much, but he is afraid of children. He began to shiver.

  “Don’t worry, Pepe,” I said, picking him up and gently stroking his back. “You’ll be safe with me.”

  Four kids picked that moment to run up to us, yelling, “Can we pet your dog?”

  “No, he’ll bite!” I said, a little more sharply than I intended. Their parents, who had caught up with them, frowned at me, then shooed their offspring toward the parking lot.

  When the juvenile storm had passed, Pepe looked up at me and said, “Geri, tell me you are not planning to have ninos of your own someday soon.”

  “No,” I told him, even though at age thirty-two, I felt my biological clock starting to tick down.

  “Bien,” he said. “Muy bien.”

  We began wandering through the park. We were waiting for Jimmy G to arrive, although we had already agreed that he wouldn’t approach us, since he might scare off the kidnapper. Also we needed to find the Giant Sloth. The park was dotted with large metal sculptures depicting the various creatures that had once roamed this part of L.A.: lions, saber-toothed tigers, and a huge woolly mammoth just to name a few.

  I was surprised to see puddles of black tar in the grass that we had to avoid. I’d thought the Tar Pits were surrounded by a big fence or something.

  “Do not be concerned, Geri,” said Pepe. “This stuff only bubbles up from the ground here and there. The puddles are not deep, just nasty if you get your paws in them.”

  “Is that right? Well, what about that one?” I asked, pointing at some tar that was about four feet in diameter with a small fence around it.

  “Sí,” said Pepe. “That one could indeed be deep. Like they say, there is always an exception to the rule.”

  Jimmy G was supposed to make himself inconspicuous, but he was hard to miss in his green sports coat and a brown fedora with an emerald feather. But although he was quite noticeable—people actually turned and stared as he strolled around the park—he pretended not to know us when we caught sight of him.

  Finally we spotted the Sloths. Two of them, made out of some kind of brown metal. The one in front stood up on its hind legs, looking around.

  “It is bueno that they were supposed to be slow. I would not ever want a thing like that
to grab me,” Pepe said.

  The Sloth was much taller than me. I stood in the space between its arms, looking out across the park to see if I could spot the dognapper. But what did a dognapper look like?

  “What is our plan?” asked Pepe. When I shrugged he said, “How about this: When you are talking to him, I will circle around and bite him in the Achilles tendon. That will bring him down. With any luck, we will get the perrita back and keep the ransom!”

  “I don’t like that plan!” I said. “We aren’t going to confront this creep. We just want Princess back! As long as he delivers her, we’re going to let him walk away. So don’t do anything foolish!”

  “What about Siren Song?” asked Pepe.

  “You’re right! But I doubt that he’ll bring Siren Song along. So we’ll have to follow them back to their lair.”

  “Put me down!” said Pepe. “I want to be ready for this dognapper. We are on time, are we not?”

  “Yes,” I told him, glancing at my watch. “We’re a couple minutes early, in fact.”

  “Bueno,” he said, “because I must relieve myself.”

  “Now? Of all the times to use the bathroom, you pick this moment?”

  “I am a dog, Geri,” he said, moving about six feet out into the grass and starting to sniff and circle. “I do not pick the time—it picks me.”

  “Great. Just great.” I scanned the park. I didn’t think I would recognize the dognapper, but I could keep my eye out for Princess. The park was full of dogs: a black Lab chasing after an orange Frisbee, a little terrier being carried by a dapper gentleman, two dachshunds getting tangled in their leashes.

  A man was approaching with a small furry dog on a leash. The dog was the same size as Princess, but her fluffy coat was a dirty brown.

  “Pepe!” I cried. “Hurry up! I need your help!”

  “This is most inconvenient,” said Pepe. He centered on one patch of grass and gave it a really good sniff. “Ah, this is the spot,” he said, then squatted down.

  The man was short and round, with a peculiar bounce in his step. He had a round face and a fringe of wispy beard.

  An older woman walking by scowled at me. “I hope you’re going to clean that up, young lady.” She pointed at the pile Pepe was making and started to repeat herself. “I said, I hope you’re going to—”

  “Go away!” I yelled at her. I was never rude to people, but the short guy with the dog had stopped in his tracks, maybe thirty feet away, and looked very suspicious. “Just go away!” I yelled even louder.

  “Well, I never,” said the woman, taking a step back.

  Just then Jimmy G jumped out from behind the Sloth. I thought he was going to pull a gun on the guy, but instead he raced toward him.

  “I’m going to report you to the authorities,” said the woman, pulling out her cell phone. She glared at Pepe as she headed off, punching in numbers. If she called the cops, that would scare away the dognapper.

  “Nacho!” said Jimmy G, falling on the guy and giving him a big clap on the back. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, man. Fancy running into you here!”

  Chapter 31

  “What?” Nacho looked confused. He looked at me and then at Jimmy G.

  “The package, man,” said Jimmy G. “Jimmy G’s been trying to find the package!”

  “You weren’t supposed to come down to L.A. to get it, you idiot!”

  “What? And not collect the money you owe Jimmy G?”

  “Are you still going on about that? I told you a million times, I don’t owe you nothing.”

  “What were you saying, Geri?” Pepe asked, kicking up a bunch of grass to cover his leavings.

  “Look who’s here, Geri!” Jimmy G said, wrapping his arm around the guy’s shoulder and pushing him toward me. “My old buddy from my platoon, Nacho. We called him that because he ate Nacho Cheese Doritos all day long!”

  “Is that Princess?” I asked Pepe. The dog at the end of the leash didn’t look like the proud creature I had last seen in Caprice’s arms. This dog had matted fur and was a splotchy brown color.

  Pepe bounded over to her. The dog let out a high-pitched whine and struggled against the leash, rushing forward to meet Pepe. They had a quick consultation, nose to nose, then nose to tail. Nacho spun around, trying to keep Pepe away from her.

  “Hey, lady, watch your dog,” he said. “Don’t you know he’s supposed to be on a leash?”

  “Sí, it is Princess, but she has been mistreated,” Pepe said, trotting back to me. “See how they have tried to alter her appearance!”

  “So, Nacho is the dognapper,” I said. I didn’t mean to say it so loud, but both Jimmy G and Nacho heard me.

  “Dognapper?” said Jimmy G.

  “You know her?” said Nacho, looking back and forth between me and Jimmy G.

  “Yeah! She’s in disguise, but she’s my Gal Friday.”

  “Associate!” I said.

  Nacho took a few steps back and managed to break Jimmy G’s hold. He picked up Princess and held her tight against his chest. “Take one more step and I’ll break her neck.”

  We all froze—that is, all except Princess and Pepe. Princess twisted her head around and nipped Nacho’s hand just as Pepe charged around and sank his teeth into Nacho’s ankle.

  “Ow! Ow!” He dropped Princess, who was still attached to the leash, and kicked at Pepe, who deftly avoided the blow.

  I had to do something, so I smacked him on the head with Caprice’s purse.

  “Ow!” He doubled over.

  I saw Jimmy G reach for the gun he kept in a shoulder holster, but Nacho grabbed Princess, holding her by the neck.

  “Back off or I’ll snap her little neck!” Then he took off running. Princess twisted and turned in his grip, but he held her in such a way, she couldn’t bite him again.

  “Princess!” Pepe and I screamed at the same time.

  Jimmy G sprinted after him, yelling, “Give it up, Nacho! You never could outrun Jimmy G!”

  “Come, we must save her!” shouted Pepe. He took off running and I followed as quickly as I could.

  We must have been quite a sight—Nacho huffing and puffing with Princess held out in front of him, Jimmy G in his bright green sports jacket and fedora waving his pistol, a small white Chihuahua at his heels, and me bringing up the rear, wearing a sparkly silver dress, high heels, and sunglasses.

  “Call the police!” I screamed to no one in particular. All I got in return were stunned expressions from various onlookers. Possibly everyone thought we were a guerrilla art troupe. I saw people snapping photos. Good! There would be evidence if we didn’t manage to snag Princess.

  Nacho reached the fenced-in area surrounding the biggest of the tar pits and began circling around it. We all followed. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught glimpses of the tableaux inside the chain-link fence. A huge woolly mammoth trumpeting as it was dragged down into the pit. Another mammoth sinking to its knees with the fangs of a saber-toothed tiger embedded in its neck.

  After completing a circuit of the tar pit, Nacho headed off, with Princess still clutched to his chest, toward a circular structure. He disappeared inside it, followed by Jimmy G, then Pepe, and eventually me. As they ran in, onlookers ran out. I saw the words OBSERVATION PIT over the door as I rushed in after them.

  The structure was open inside, with overhead lights and wooden scaffolding that surrounded a pit some twenty feet in diameter. Nacho and Princess were on the far side of it, with Jimmy G advancing on them from the left and Pepe coming at them from the right.

  “Nowhere to run, Nacho! Give it up!” yelled my boss.

  Pepe growled—a real growl, no doubt channeling a dire wolf—and stalked toward Nacho, his fangs bared.

  Princess, seeing her opportunity, struggled wildly. Nacho was distracted and lost his grip on her. She managed to wriggle out of his grasp, but in the process she went tumbling over the edge of the barrier. There was a splat as she landed in the tar pit below.

  “Princes
s!” I shouted, and looked around for a way to reach her.

  “What the hell’s going on up there?” I heard a voice coming from the pit.

  I looked over the wooden railing and saw two men, about fifteen feet below, who were kneeling on boards that ringed the pit. They were evidently digging fossils out of the hardened edges around the tar pool at the bottom.

  “Oww! Damn!” I glanced up again and saw Pepe biting into Nacho’s ankle as Jimmy G put him in a headlock.

  Pepe jumped back just as Nacho twisted away and tumbled into the pit.

  “Hey!” said one of the archeologists, jumping back as he was splattered with tar. “You could have just damaged fossils that are millennia old.”

  Nacho didn’t seem to care. He was trying to extricate himself from the tar. He was in up to his knees, and every time he tried to lift his leg, we could hear a horrible sucking sound.

  One of the archaeologists had managed to scoop out the struggling dog. I scrambled halfway down the ladder that led into the pit, and he handed her up to me. She was half covered with tar and whimpering, I think, with embarrassment.

  “It’s OK,” I told her as I carried her up the ladder. “We’ll get you back to Caprice.” Pepe came running over. He must have told her the same thing, I think, because she stopped whimpering.

  “Call the police!” said one of the archaeologists.

  “Get the dog back to the car,” my boss ordered. “Jimmy G will help get the bastard out and meet you there.”

  “We are not leaving without Siren Song!” said Pepe.

  “I don’t think she’s here,” I said. “He only brought one dog.” I leaned over the edge of the pit. “Do you have Siren Song?” I asked.

  “Up yours!” he said.

  “I will find her,” said Pepe. “Take me back to where we first met with him and I will track backward.”

  Chapter 32

  I carried the tar-splattered Princess as we headed back to the Giant Sloth where we had first met Nacho. Pepe began sniffing the ground, zigzagging back and forth as he traced Nacho’s path to the parking lot.