The Silence of the Chihuahuas

by Waverly Curtis

  “No, he really does quote Shakespeare,” I said. I looked at Felix for help. “You said you were going to tell her about my problem with Pepe.”

  Felix looked embarrassed. “It’s a little hard to explain,” he said.

  “You said you heard him talking!” I waved my empty wine glass at him, hoping he would notice it was empty.

  “I thought I heard him talking.” Felix said.

  “Fine! I get it! You think I’m crazy!” I said.

  “I don’t think that’s crazy,” said Caro. “I can see it’s important to you to be able to communicate with your dog.”

  “So you do believe dogs talk?” I asked eagerly.

  Caro laughed again. “I’ve never heard one speak English,” she said, “but I’d like to. Maybe we can get together after the show wraps. I decided to extend my stay.” She glanced at Felix again. Was there something going on between them? Was this why he had been so hard to reach over the last few weeks?

  “That would be great,” I said. It looked like I was going to have to get my glass of wine for myself. I excused myself and marched over to the bar.

  I decided to try a negroni, curious about what Caro was drinking, and ordered one from the bartender. The party was picking up steam. The talk was louder. The laughter was shriller.

  My drink arrived. It had a strange bitter flavor and the color was an almost neon red. I wasn’t entirely sure I liked it. But I kept on sipping it, savoring the unusual flavor.

  Just then Rebecca Tyler spied me and came rushing up to me. She’s a tall, elegant woman with long dark hair and a long tanned face. She wore a tight cocktail dress. Silver with a pleated top, it showed off her cleavage, which was bountiful. It looked like maybe she had had some work done in LA.

  “Geri!” she said, giving me two quick air kisses on either side of my cheeks. “It’s so good you could come. We love Felix on the set. He’s such an asset. He knows so much about production. I guess that’s what happens when you grow up in a show business family.”

  It’s true that Felix had grown up in LA where his father worked as a lighting tech and his mother was a costume designer.

  “I’m surprised you’re filming up here,” I said, “with all the talent in LA.”

  “Well, Felix said it was hard for him to get away,” Rebecca said. “And besides I needed to come up here and supervise the work being done on the house.” I could tell she was trying to frown but her forehead did not even ripple. “Unfortunately my interior decorator seems to have vanished.”

  “I noticed you were making changes,” I said, taking another sip of my drink. “Who did you hire?”

  “Oh, I thought he would have told you,” Rebecca said. “It’s someone you know. I think he said you worked together. His name is Todd or Tad or . . .”

  “Brad?” I said. “Bradley Best?”

  Rebecca nodded. “Yes! That’s it. He approached me. Said he heard from you that my house needed a makeover. At first, I was offended, but then when he explained, about the need to shift the energy, I got it! He had some great ideas and, as you see, he did do some work. But then he just disappeared. I haven’t been able to get a hold of him since I paid him.”

  “You paid him?”

  “Yes he showed up a few days ago, said it was urgent. He needed money to pay his landlord. I paid him in cash. He went off and I haven’t been able to reach him since.”

  “How much did you pay him?”

  “Ten thousand dollars.”

  Pepe’s Blog: Dames Are Distracting

  Bitches can be so distracting. My only thought when I first rushed into the Tyler residence was to find my old flame, the dog of my dreams, the luscious and delicious and odiferous Siren Song. And she was just as lovely and smelled as sweet as I remembered.

  But even as we were circling around each other, sniffing butts, I knew that I was shirking my duty as a detective. Because there was some odor in the house that I had passed by in my hurry, and it was relevant to another case.

  Yet, the spell that siren Siren Song cast upon me was a powerful one and soon I had forgotten all about our case, and even Geri. That is until the food arrived. Seafood. Very popular in Seattle. It is strange how humans like this food that is only good for cats. And dogs who have not been fed for many hours.

  Chapter 11

  Our conversation was interrupted when the sushi arrived. Rebecca had ordered takeout from one of the fancier sushi restaurants in town, and the spread, set up on a mirrored sideboard, consisted of more than thirty different white boxes, each containing a pile of artfully created rolls. A stack of gold-rimmed plates materialized near the end of the sideboard along with a heap of gold-colored linen napkins, and the guests queued up to help themselves to the feast.

  As the guests filled their plates, they wandered over and found seats on the settees. A happy buzz soon filled the room, the happy buzz of people talking and eating.

  I was one of the last to get any food. I hung back still feeling irritated by my conversation with Caro and Felix. He should have defended me. Also, I was worried about Pepe, but I discovered I didn’t have to worry about him when I finally made it to the buffet. He had positioned himself under the sideboard and was eagerly nibbling at any scraps that fell to the ground.

  When I had filled my plate with some classic California rolls and a crispy salmon roll, there were few seats left in the room and I felt like that kid who is new at school, facing the daunting social jungle of the lunch room.

  “Over here, Geri!” said a cheery voice, and I saw Caro in a group that included Felix, seated on a fancy sofa against the wall at the far end of the room. “We saved a place for you.”

  Pepe followed me and I took that awkward middle seat on the sofa between Caro and Felix. I tried to balance my plate on my lap while Caro introduced me around. I didn’t know the man sitting in the chair across from Felix—Caro said he was the director—but I did recognize the vividly dressed woman sitting across from me. Miranda Skarbos.

  We met on the set of Dancing with Dogs. Miranda is a famous pet psychic and she enhances her image by dressing like a gypsy. Upon this occasion, she was wearing a full black skirt, embroidered with flowers in red, blue, and green, and a dusty pink top made all of ruffles that fluttered whenever she moved. Her dark black hair was pinned up into a messy bun high on her head.

  After a few minutes of catching up, Miranda said, “Caro says that Pepe has a problem.”

  Yes, he did have a problem. Besides not speaking, he had bad manners. He was tapping my leg with his paw while staring up at my plate. Begging. Of course, Fuzzy, who was at Felix’s feet, was lying down with her head on her paws and her eyes closed, like a good dog.

  I nodded. I couldn’t speak since my mouth was burning. I had smeared a bit too much wasabi on my California roll.

  “Well, all three of us pet experts are here.” Miranda declared, pointing her fork at Felix and Caro. “We can work on him for you. What’s the problem?”

  I tried again to explain that he had stopped talking, knowing how ridiculous that sounded and cringing at the amused expression on the face of the director.

  “You know him best, Felix,” said Miranda. “What do you think is going on?”

  Felix gulped. “It’s a difficult situation,” he said. “Obviously Geri and her dog have been very close, so much so that she believes she can hear him speak.”

  What? If my mouth hadn’t been full, I would have protested. Instead I had the impulse to stab him with my fork. What a traitor!

  “But something must have happened to disrupt that closeness.” He looked at me helplessly. “And now it’s harder for her to read his signals.”

  “But what do you suppose happened?” Caro asked.

  I glared at Felix as he continued. “I know she’s under a lot of stress right now. Her best friend has disappeared and her sister might or might not be in danger.”

  “How can you say that?” I asked “Don’t you believe that my sister called me?”
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br />   “Yes, I do,” said Felix, reaching out and patting my hand in a patronizing manner. “But we don’t know if she’s really in danger or if she’s just imagining it. After all, she called from a psychiatric hospital.”

  “So, let me get this straight,” said Caro. “You think Pepe might still be ‘talking’ but Geri is too stressed out to hear him.”

  “Something like that,” said Felix. “What’s your explanation?”

  I was so angry at Felix I didn’t even hear the start of Caro’s explanation.

  “Well, I think Felix is on the right track,” she said. “With a problem like this I would want to know what changed in your life right before or at the same time that your dog stopped—” She hesitated. She couldn’t quite bring herself to say that my dog was talking. “That you stopped being able to hear your dog.”

  “Really,” I said. “There was nothing.” I glared at Felix. “All of those things Felix mentioned happened after he stopped talking.”

  “So what happened before?” Caro asked in a gentle voice.

  “Nothing,” I repeated. “We were just going along as normal. I mean, I had a fight with my boss. I couldn’t trust him any more after our last case and I wasn’t talking to him. And then my best friend, Brad, got mad at me and he stopped talking to me . . .” My voice trailed off.

  “Oh, hon,” said Caro, “it sounds like you were experiencing a lack of communication in several important relationships.”

  “Well, I suppose, but I don’t see how . . . I mean why would Pepe make that worse by stopping talking?”

  Pepe’s big eyes looking up at me were so sad. Tears sprang into my own eyes.

  “They are such sensitive creatures,” said Caro. “Often they mirror our feelings.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” I asked.

  Caro put her hand over mine. “I think if you work at connecting with some of these other people in your life, you might find that your dog is able to communicate with you again.”

  “Let me speak for him!” declared Miranda Skarbos, in her deep and portentous voice.

  “Yes, please do!” I said. It had to be better than what Felix and Caro were suggesting. That Pepe’s stopping talking was all my fault.

  Miranda set down her plate on the floor. Pepe rushed over to it and was disappointed to find it empty. He began licking it anyway. I just hoped there wasn’t any wasabi on it. Although he likes spicy food, I wasn’t sure he could handle that.

  Miranda closed her eyes, and shook her head, like a dog shaking off water. Then she bowed her head and clasped her hands, almost as if she were praying.

  “Ah!” she said, throwing back her head. “The dog, he is frightened. Some danger lurks near your home. In the bushes.”

  I thought of the mysterious phone call and looked at Felix who looked at me with the same sort of surprise in his eyes that I felt.

  “Another dog has claimed his territory.”

  Oh, that was disappointing. No dog had claimed his territory. Unless she was referring to Fuzzy, but Pepe had never seemed fond of Felix. I didn’t think he considered Felix his property, the way he considers me his property.

  “Something evil has happened,” Miranda went on, quivering all over. “A horrid crime. The perpetrator acted viciously, fueled by greed and frustration. I believe it was a murder!” She opened her eyes with a start and looked directly at me.

  “It’s true,” I stammered. “Pepe and I found the body of an old lady who was killed in her kitchen.”

  “You know who did this!” she said, pointing one long, bony finger at me. “And your dog knows as well. But he is keeping silent out of loyalty.”

  “Why?” I asked. But I knew immediately. Pepe would be able to smell Brad’s scent on the old lady. Had Brad really killed Mrs. Fairchild? I thought about what Rebecca had just shared with me. Could Brad have gone over there to collect the rest of the rent money he needed and gotten so angry when Mrs. Fairchild refused to pay him that he had hit her over the head?

  “Bravo!” said Caro, clapping her hands.

  The director nodded his head at Miranda. “Magnificent. That would certainly keep the viewers tuned in.”

  I saw that Felix looked disappointed. His explanation was not dramatic enough to capture the ratings the show needed to succeed. I was secretly rather happy about that.

  “So what do you recommend she do?” the director asked the assembled experts.

  “She must solve the murder!” declared Miranda. “On her own! To prove that she deserves the loyalty of this magnificent creature!” She waved her hand at Pepe, who was staring up at her.

  Caro repeated her suggestion that I mend the frayed relationships in my life.

  “She needs to spend more time with her boyfriend, relaxing,” said Felix with a big smile. “Once she’s happier and more relaxed, she’ll be able to tune in to her best friend’s messages.”

  Pepe’s Blog: Get Your Blog Posts Read!

  Some police departments use psychics to help them solve crimes. Perhaps this is useful for them, given their tendency to rely strictly on science and rationalization. A dog has so much more information to use to solve crimes: scent and intuition, empathy and energy. We have no need of psychics, who, perhaps, now that I think of it, are simply humans who are more like dogs than other humans in their ability to sniff out clues in body language and energetic exhalations.

  During a previous case we worked with a famous pet psychic known as Miranda Skarbos. Her efforts to “read” me have been, for the most part, inaccurate. She does score a good hit every now and then, but “frightened?” Ha, Pepe Sullivan is never frightened. Wary, perhaps. And she was certainly closer at guessing what was going on in my life than either Felix (please! Spending more time with him! Geri needs to spend more time with me!) and Caro Lamont (who seems like a nice enough lady but all of her advice was for Geri, as it should be, because we all know that there are no bad dogs, only bad owners). But I digress.

  As I wandered back through the house on my way home with Geri, my mind now occupied with crime rather than Siren Song, I smelled that haunting smell again and realized where I had smelled it: on the body of Mrs. Fairchild. The same person who had killed Mrs. Fairchild had also been in Rebecca Tyler’s house. I need to let Geri know this. She needs to read my blog. How do I get her to read my blog?

  I will have to do some research on Search Engine Optimization to see if I can get my blog to move to the top of results when people search for “dog detectives.” But would Geri ever search for a dog detective when she has me?

  Chapter 12

  It seems unfair that after his advice Felix didn’t come home with me. But he did have a good excuse. An early morning shoot, 7:00 a.m. to be exact. He walked me and Pepe to my car and told me that whenever we spend the night together, he never wants to leave, wants time to stand still so we can stay in bed forever, and that was why he couldn’t spend the night with me. He was afraid 7:00 a.m. would come and go and he’d miss the shoot.

  That was so romantic. And so was the kiss and the embrace that followed as we leaned up against my car. I think I almost persuaded him to change his mind. Until Pepe starting barking furiously from inside the car. I might point out that Fuzzy was standing quietly by Felix’s side. Well, I did point that out when I got in the car with Pepe, but he didn’t seem to care.

  I don’t know why he was so impatient to get home because all he did when we arrived was go straight into the living room and turn on the television. I have a couch potato for a dog.

  The next morning, I was up early but not as early as Felix, and calling Mrs. Snelson to set up an appointment.

  She picked up on the first ring. “Hello?”

  “Mrs. Snelson,” I said. “This is Geri Sullivan, I—”

  “I’m so glad you called,” she said rapid-fire, sounding tense. “It’s getting worse—”

  “What’s getting worse?” I asked.

  “The situation.” She was whispering into the phone.

&n
bsp; “What situation?”

  “I can’t talk about it on the phone. I really need to talk to you in person.”

  “I can come by this morning if it’s urgent.” Jeff’s wedding wasn’t until 3 p.m., so I had plenty of time.

  “It is! How soon can you get here?”

  “Say about ten?”

  “Yes. Ten is fine. And be sure to bring your dog.”

  “My dog?” That was strange, I thought. Mrs. Snelson didn’t like dogs.

  “Yes. He was good luck last time. With any luck this time, he’ll have somebody to bite.”

  “Bite? Who?”

  “I have no idea.” Her voice quavered. “That’s why I need your help.”

  “OK,” I told her. “I’ll bring Pepe along.”

  “Good. I’ll see you soon.” And she hung up.

  Mrs. Snelson lives at the Gladstone, a seven-story concrete building designed for housing seniors. She has one of the coveted ground floor apartments, coveted because those units have patios and a little bit of earth around the edges for planting. That had been the problem when we first met Mrs. Snelson: a roaming dog had been pooping in her flower beds. Pepe and I had been able to identify the culprit and get him locked up.

  Parking is always difficult around the Gladstone because it’s just a block away from Green Lake, one of Seattle’s most beloved parks, especially for the mile of trail that circles the lake and is always thronged with walkers, dog-walkers, joggers, roller skaters, skate-boarders, and strollers. And even more crowded on a beautiful September Saturday. The air was cool but it wasn’t raining. As sometimes happens at the end of September, summer seemed to have reappeared and everyone was out enjoying the sunshine.

  I finally found parking several blocks away and Pepe and I strolled back toward the Gladstone, its imposing concrete silhouette hard to miss in this neighborhood of elegant single-family homes with their manicured lawns and carefully pruned shrubbery. All except one. As we came in sight of the Gladstone, we spotted the same scruffy rental house that we had noticed on our first visit: directly across the street from Mrs. Snelson’s patio. And in the front yard was the dog we had sent away for his crimes: Bruiser.