“This is it!” said Pepe, pausing in front of a white van that had backed into the parking space so the rear doors faced the park. I looked at the side and saw the words HOLLYWOOD PARCEL SERVICE painted in blue.
“Oh my God!” I said. “It’s the van they used to make deliveries to the studio.”
“This is the van they used to kidnap Siren Song!” said Pepe. “I can smell her from here.” He jumped, trying to reach the back doors. “Geri, help me. Open the door!”
It was one of those vans with two rear doors, each one with a window. I set Princess down, grabbed a handle, and pulled it open. As the door swung open, Pepe jumped inside. At the same time, I saw the silhouette of someone’s head in the driver’s seat. What had I been thinking? Of course Nacho would bring backup, just like I had.
“Pepe! Watch out!” I said. “There’s someone in the van!”
But it was too late. The driver had seen me and turned the key in the ignition. Meanwhile, Pepe was sniffing along the metal floor of the van. There was no sign of Siren Song, although there was a big plastic dog carrier in the back. Perhaps she was inside that.
The van jolted forward, and I saw Pepe slip on the metal floor. His claws couldn’t get any traction. Then the van zoomed out of the parking lot with Pepe in it.
No way was I going to lose my dog. I picked up Princess and ran for the red Ferrari. I pulled out of the parking lot in time to see the white van taking a left and heading down the street. I wasn’t sure if the driver had seen me. But just in case, I pulled off the wig and the sunglasses, thinking that might fool them. Princess cowered in the passenger seat. She was a sorry sight, all dirty and spotted with tar.
The Ferrari was fast and I was able to keep the van in sight. One of the van’s rear doors was swinging open and I could see Pepe sliding back and forth in the cargo area as it wove through traffic at high speed. I’d never driven so fast on a surface street—thank God for the Ferrari.
I managed to keep up with the van for the first few miles, almost clipping a car or two in the process. One time the van braked, then sped up abruptly, causing Pepe to slide precariously close to the edge of its open back door. His forelegs were thrust stiffly out in front of him as he barely stopped himself from tumbling out onto the street. I don’t know if he saw me or not, as I was about four car lengths back, but his normally bulging eyes bulged out even farther and his mouth opened wide like he was saying, “Help!”
The van took a hard right turn—took it so fast that I thought it would roll over. This caused the rear door to swing shut and stay shut. At least Pepe wouldn’t be able to fall out now, I thought, following at such speed that my car fishtailed a bit as I came out of it and hit the gas again. (Where were the cops when you needed them?)
Then, much to my relief, the van slowed to a normal speed and obeyed all the traffic laws and lights for the next five or six miles. My guess was that the driver bolted away from the Tar Pits in a panic when I tried to enter the van but finally slowed down when he thought it was safe—which meant he must not be aware that I was following him.
At one red light, I stopped only a couple feet behind the van. I wanted to jump out of the car, run up to the van, yank the door open, and rescue Pepe. But no sooner had I tried to unbuckle my seat belt than the light changed and we took off again.
Damn. Damn! When would they stop for good? And where would that be?
My question was answered a few minutes later. We had entered a part of town that was mostly residential. The streets were lined with older apartment buildings. Many of the ground-floor windows had bars.
The van rolled to a stop in front of an apartment building that might have once been hot pink but was now a faded coral. It was L-shaped and three stories tall, with walkways that ran in front of every apartment door along each floor. The building had faded turquoise trim and doors. The name LAGO VISTA APARTMENTS stood out in cursive letters against a backdrop of river rock.
I parked about two cars back. I wasn’t quite sure what I was going to do, but I knew I had to get to Pepe. I could hear him yelling from inside the van. Although his words were muffled, the message was clear. He was furious.
Then I heard the car door slam. The driver jumped out of the van and went toward the apartment building. As soon as I saw him, I knew who it was. Hard to miss that porcupine hair or the vivid purple Hawaiian shirt. Rodney Klamp! The getaway driver was Rodney Klamp.
Without even looking back, he scrambled up the open stairs on the left side of the building. I watched him emerge on the second-floor walkway and enter an apartment about three doors down.
When I was sure he wasn’t coming right back out, I jumped out of the car and ran to the van.
“Pepe!” I cried, and pulled open the rear door.
“Pepe!” I said with relief when I saw that he seemed unhurt.
“Pepe!” I cried for a third time when he bolted out of the van and, nose to the ground, made a beeline to the apartment building’s stairs. “What are you doing?”
“I am hot on the scent of that lily-livered dognapper, that betrayer of perros, that scoundrel!” he said. He raced up to the second-floor landing, and I ran after him screaming, “Pepe!” yet again.
“I am coming for you, Rodney Klamp,” Pepe growled. “And when I find you, I will clamp my jaws around your leg like a juicy drumstick.”
I caught up with my dog just as he threw himself against the apartment door Rodney had entered.
I pulled my tiny avenger away from the door, but it was too late. The door jerked open and Rodney stuck his head out. “What the hell’s going on out here?” he said.
“This!” yelled Pepe, barreling in at him.
I was right behind Pepe as he went through the door. I thought I heard another dog barking when I got inside the apartment, but was too distracted by my own dog attacking Rodney to give it much thought. Pepe aimed for Rodney’s ankle and sank his teeth into his flesh. Rodney began hopping around and screaming. “Get it off of me!”
What to do? I wished I had some way to threaten Rodney, but I didn’t own a gun. The police. I needed the police. I lunged for the phone I saw on the bar that divided the tiny kitchen from the living room.
I couldn’t help noticing the décor. Left over from the fifties, like the apartment building. Nubbly beige drapes. Fake maple colonial-style dining table. A boxy brown sofa. Two suitcases by the front door.
“What the hell?” A young woman emerged from the back room. It was Jennifer, Caprice’s personal assistant. She was dressed in jeans and a striped top, and she was carrying a small pet carrier. I realized that the barking I’d heard ever since we burst in was coming from that travel cage. It had to be Siren Song.
“Get it off me!” Rodney kept screaming, dancing around and trying to smack Pepe who was attached to his leg like a remora to a shark.
“What do you expect me to do?” asked Jennifer. “I don’t even like dogs.”
I was scared for Pepe, but he seemed to be holding his own for the moment. So I decided to rescue Siren Song while I had the chance. I tried to grab the pet cage away from Jennifer. She held on.
“You can’t have her,” she told me. “This Pomeranian is our movie money.”
“No, you idiot!” yelled Rodney, now trying to kick Pepe off of him like he was some kind of soccer ball. “Get it through your head—Siren Song’s worthless. That bitch doesn’t care about getting her damned dog back. Let her have the dog and help me!”
“Huh?” mumbled Jennifer. She hesitated for a moment, and I won our tug-of-war. But I hadn’t expected her to let go so easily, and the pet carrier dropped to the floor. The cage door flew open on impact and out popped Siren Song. She seemed unharmed. She was a little bedraggled but otherwise in good shape. She headed toward Rodney, growling.
“I’m getting out of here,” said Jennifer. “I never should’ve gotten involved with you two idiots.”
“No, you’re not going anywhere.” I got hold of her shoulders and tried to push he
r against the wall. She pushed back and we went down, rolling around under the dining room table. She was strong and wiry, and she had a lot more to lose than I did. She slapped me in the face, and I punched her in the nose, and she pulled my hair and I pulled her hair, and then she butted me in the jaw with her head. I flopped backward, hitting my head against the wall.
Jennifer scrambled to her feet. I tried to move, but my head swam and stars swirled through my field of vision. Jennifer jumped on top of me.
At about the same time, Rodney managed to kick Pepe free. My little white dog came flying through the air, hit the wall beside me, and, with a horrible crunching noise, fell to the ground, where he lay still and silent.
Chapter 33
Siren Song ran over to Pepe and sniffed at him. He didn’t move.
“You killed my dog!” I screamed.
“Screw him!” Rodney shot back. “He was killing me!”
“My God,” said Jennifer, staring at the blood gushing from Rodney’s ankle. “You might need stitches.”
“I’ll take care of it later,” Rodney told her. He went into the other room and came back with the belt from a terry-cloth bathrobe. “Tie her hands behind her back.” He rolled me over and Jennifer tied my wrists together. They hauled me up and propped me in a sitting position. I could see Pepe, a few feet away. He was totally limp. Siren Song sat beside him and whimpered.
“Where’s her purse?” Rodney asked. “Check to see if she’s still got the ransom.”
“No, I don’t,” I lied. “I gave it to Nacho.”
“Where is Nacho?”
“Stuck in the tar pits,” I said with some satisfaction.
“She didn’t have a purse with her when she came in,” said Jennifer. “She must have left it in the car.”
“Well, go check!”
“How would I know which car is hers?”
“Figure it out! You’ve got to be good for something besides whining!”
While Jennifer was gone, Rodney hobbled around, looking for something to staunch the blood pouring from his ankle. “Ow!” he yelled, limping badly.
I looked over at the still form of Pepe. I couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not. “Stay with me, little guy,” I whispered.
Rodney went into the bedroom and began throwing things around. He came out with a suitcase just as Jennifer hurried through the front door waving the red patent leather purse.
“She stole Caprice’s car,” she told Rodney. “And Caprice’s purse.”
“She loaned them to me,” I said.
“Doesn’t matter,” said Rodney, taking the purse away from Jennifer. “We’re in luck. Looks like the ransom is all here. A cool quarter of a million dollars!” Rodney pulled out one of the neatly bound stacks of $100 bills. “Ha!” He pushed it back into the bag. “One thing you’ve got to say about Caprice. She cares about her dogs.”
“More than her employees,” said Jennifer bitterly.
“We’ve got what we need. Time to get on the road,” Rodney said.
“What if she called the police?” Jennifer asked.
“Yes,” I lied again, my head still spinning. “I called the cops!”
Rodney glared at me. “I don’t think so. She wouldn’t have come in here alone if she had,” he said.
No, he was right, I wouldn’t have come in alone, except to protect my dog.
“Anyway,” he told Jennifer, “if we leave right now, we should be able to make it across the border in a few hours. With all that money, we won’t have any worries. We can finish our movie and submit it to Sundance.”
“That’s what this is all about? You killed my dog for a movie?”
“Not just any movie,” said Rodney. “This is art. We’re going to be rich and famous.”
Jennifer pointed at me. “Not if she tells the cops about us.”
“She won’t get a chance,” said Rodney.
“What do you mean?” Jennifer asked him.
“What do you think?”
A look of horror spread across her face. “You don’t mean—”
“Look, I’d rather not do it. But she’s a loose end.”
“I can’t believe it,” said Jennifer. “That’s your solution for everything. Kill Nigel when he won’t pay the ransom. Kill the guy who’s trying to protect the Pomeranian. You guys have bungled everything right from the start when we tried to kidnap Caprice’s Chihuahua last year.”
“That was Nacho’s fault!” Rodney said. “He’s too impulsive. We’re better off without him.”
“Well, I’m not going to have any part in murder,” said Jennifer.
“Look, if you don’t like it, go start the van.” He reached into his pocket and tossed her the keys. “Take the suitcases.” I noticed he didn’t let go of the purse containing the ransom. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
“What about the dogs?”
“We don’t need them anymore.”
“You’re not going to hurt them, are you?” Nice to know she had empathy for the dogs, if not for me.
“No, I’m not going to hurt them. Just go!”
Jennifer looked at the keys in her hand, then at me. “Well, OK,” she said. She grabbed the suitcases and headed out the front door.
Siren Song put her forepaws on my thigh and whined softly as if there was something I could do for poor Pepe, who lay so still beside me.
Rodney went into the kitchen and I could hear him opening drawers and cursing. When he emerged, he had a sharp steak knife in his hand. He held it up in one hand like some crazed killer in a horror movie and approached me.
Siren Song bared her fangs and growled ferociously at Rodney. Pomeranians always look happy, even when they’re growling, so she didn’t seem like much of a threat.
Rodney kicked her. She yipped and went tumbling across the floor, a furry golden ball.
“Now for you,” said Rodney. He didn’t sound too confident. In fact, he swallowed hard as he looked down at me.
“I know you’re not a killer,” I said. “Just let me go and I promise I won’t say anything.”
Rodney’s eyes were sad. “It’s too late for that,” he said.
He bent over me, the knife raised above his head. Suddenly there was a horrific snarl—it sounded like a dire wolf must have sounded—and a golden ball of Pomeranian came flying through the air and chomped onto Rodney’s upraised arm. “Ow! Ow!” he yelled, waving his hand back and forth. Siren Song stayed attached. He dropped the knife.
I saw my opportunity, lifted up my legs, and aimed both feet at Rodney’s crotch. I was still wearing the high heels, so the impact was brutal. Rodney let out a squeal like a slaughtered pig and fell to his knees in front of me. I rolled over on top of the knife, managed to grab it with one hand, and started sawing away at the belt around my wrists.
Rodney was still gibbering, but I didn’t know how long he would be incapacitated. If he recovered before I got free, I would be a goner. Like my dog.
Just then Pepe rose from the dead. Maybe he had been playing possum.
I was overjoyed to see him stagger to his feet. And even more happy when he charged Rodney and clamped his jaws around Rodney’s wrist, chewing viciously. It sounded like Pepe was trying to say something while he bit down, but it just came out as Grrrr! Grrrr! Grrrr! Rodney screeched even more when Siren Song let go of his arm and bit him on the butt. And then a strange ugly gray dog came running out of the back room and joined the fray. It must be Nigel’s dog, Kooky! She started scissoring Rodney’s already-bloody ankle with her sharp incisors. He howled in pain, rolling back and forth on the beige-colored shag carpet that was becoming spotted with his blood. I was so glad it wasn’t mine.
At that moment, Princess the Papillon appeared in the doorway, her white fur spotted with tar. She must have jumped out of the Ferrari and made her way to the apartment. She assessed the situation and realized she could be most effective helping me. She rushed over and began yanking on the bathrobe belt. Within a few minutes, I was free.
>
I staggered to my feet. The dogs were doing a job on Rodney—Princess had joined in—but they needed help. He now had a Chihuahua attached to his wrist, a Pomeranian on his butt, the Chinese crested on his ankle, and a Papillon chewing on his ear. I took hold of one of the captain’s chairs around the dining room table and waited for my opportunity. When Rodney rolled over onto his hands and knees and tried to push himself up, I bashed him across the back with it. Unlike the chairs that break apart on impact in the movies, this one didn’t. It made a terrific thunk! and sent Rodney crashing forward like a felled tree. I was ready to do it again, but he lay there unmoving, his face planted firmly in the shag carpet.
Pepe ran to Siren Song. “Mi amor,” he said, nuzzling her repeatedly. “I have saved you!”
“And muchas gracias, amiga!” Pepe said, turning to Kooky, who pranced with happiness. She was even uglier in person than she was in pictures, but I could see why Nigel was so attached to her. She had a lot of personality.
“Your timing was impeccable,” Pepe said with a courtly bow for Princess.
So much for my part in it, I thought.
“And my partner—” Pepe began, turning to me.
Then the front door flew open and in stepped Jimmy G.
“Have no fear! Jimmy G is here!” he announced. After giving the scene a brief scan, he added, “Oh! Looks like you’ve got it pretty much under control.”
“How did you find us?” I asked.
“Nacho squealed like a little pig,” said Jimmy G. “The police are on their way. I just beat them to it. Had to come to the rescue of my operatives.”
“What about Jennifer?” I asked. “She’s—”
“Handcuffed to the steering wheel in the van,” said my boss. “Don’t worry. Stick with Jimmy G, kid! You’ll go far.”
Chapter 34
Jimmy G stayed behind to guard Rodney and talk to the police. I gathered up all the dogs. We raced to the soundstage in the red Ferrari and got there in the nick of time. They were already filming the opening of the show. The theme song was playing. Rebecca, in a tight, short, gold lamé dress, was introducing the judges and announcing the prizes.
Chihuahua Confidential Page 17
