“You’ll find out soon enough,” he said, “that the truth is usually not the best defense.” That was a sobering thought.
We pulled up in front of the crime scene. That’s how I thought of the Tyler house now. There was still yellow crime-scene tape festooning the yard, but the house was dark.
Foot pulled a card out of his pocket as I opened the door to get out. “Give me a call tomorrow and we’ll talk.” I took the card and tucked it into my purse. Foot drove away but I wasn’t going anywhere without my dog.
I wandered up and down the block, calling Pepe’s name. I don’t know if you’ve ever done this but it’s one of the worst feelings in the world. You’re pouring your heart into those two syllables and all you hear is silence.
The night was dark and cold and I was drenched. A bitter wind was blowing. There was no sign of a little white dog, but I did hear other dogs barking inside their warm houses. Occasionally people would peer out from their lighted windows. One man even came out to ask what I was doing.
After a while, I was afraid that one of the neighbors would call the police, and I certainly didn’t want to end up back at the police station. So I got in my car and drove around. I had the heater up full blast, but I was still shivering.
At every corner, I rolled down the window and called Pepe’s name. I drove in wider and wider circles. The only animal I saw was a raccoon waddling across the road near the park. Which really scared me when I thought about how small Pepe was. An encounter with a raccoon would probably be the end of him.
Around 11 PM, I gave up and headed home. I had adopted a dog and lost a dog all in one day. Maybe the whole thing was some elaborately staged April Fools’ prank. I parked down the block and trudged through the rain towards my home.
I live in one of eight adjoining units in an old brick courtyard building that was turned into condos. I’d fallen in love with its retro charm. My unit is the first on the right as you enter the courtyard, with the front door hidden behind a juniper bush. And there, to my surprise, was Pepe sitting on the welcome mat at the top of my front steps.
“Pepe!” I shouted. I gathered him up in my arms and covered him with kisses. He didn’t seem to mind. Gave me a lick or two with his pink tongue.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” I said. “And here you are.”
“I have been waiting for a very long time,” he said, shivering. “It was most unpleasant. I suggest you install a dog door.”
I wasn’t sure the homeowner’s association would approve of that, but I agreed. I was just so happy to see him. I unlocked the door and we tumbled into the living room together. Pepe headed straight to his bowl, which was empty, so I went to the refrigerator to get his food.
“I’ve heard of dogs returning to their homes, traveling thousands of miles,” I said, as I spooned out the Alpo, “but how do you do it? Is it smell?”
“Perhaps for some dogs,” Pepe said, as I set the dish on the floor in front of him. “But for me, it was easier. I simply memorized your address.”
Chapter 5
Pepe wolfed down his food like he hadn’t eaten for a week. I ate the rest of last night’s Thai takeout (basil fried rice) straight from the container while leaning against the kitchen counter, watching him.
As he slurped the bowl clean with his long, pink tongue, I said, “Pepe, I’m so glad you’re all right. When I thought I’d lost you, I just didn’t know what I’d do.” A tear rolled down my cheek, and I brushed it away, saying, “I love you, little guy.”
He looked up at me with those big dark eyes, and I thought he was going to say something equally mushy. But instead he said, “What is that noise?”
“I don’t hear anything.”
“Listen.” His long pink ears swiveled towards the bedroom. “Do you not hear it?” He walked out of the kitchen and into the hallway. I followed. “There!” he said. “It is coming from behind that locked door.”
“Oh, my God,” I said, finally recognizing the scritch of claws against wood. “It’s Albert!” I exclaimed.
“Albert?” Pepe asked.
“My cat.”
“ Un gato?” His tone was a cross between disdain and disbelief.
“I locked him in my bedroom before I picked you up,” I said. “I wanted you to get used to each other’s scent before you met. I can’t believe I forgot him.”
“You forgot him?” Incredulity.
“I know,” I said, “but it’s not as bad as it seems. I put his food dish and his bowl of water in there with him and he has access to his cat box, which is in the bathroom.”
Pepe stopped in his tracks and looked up at me. “How could you forget to tell me about el gato? You told me I was the only animal.”
“Dog. You asked if there were any other dogs and I told you ‘no.’ I was completely truthful.”
“That is parsing the question, if you ask me,” he said.
I was impressed by his vocabulary and was about to say so, but the scratching intensified. Now that Albert could hear my voice, he was more insistent. Or perhaps it was because he smelled Pepe.
Albert is a big cat, and when he’s unhappy he can do a lot of damage. Jeff and I never got back our security deposits after Albert shredded the curtains and the carpet of every apartment we rented.
“You stay here, Pepe,” I said, turning to the little dog who was sitting in the hall staring at the door. “It’s too soon for you to meet Albert. Especially when he’s in this mood.”
I opened the door just a little, planning to slip into the bedroom and close the door behind me. But Pepe was too fast. He darted around me. By the time I got into the room, Albert had jumped up on my bed and was standing in the middle of my pink chenille bedspread staring down at the small white dog who stood at the foot of the bed looking up at him. Everything in Albert’s demeanor read outrage.
Did I say that Albert is a big cat? Eighteen pounds of pure muscle. He is an orange shorthair with powerful hind muscles and an extra-long, fluffy tail. I could see his tail swishing back and forth behind him, but I wasn’t sure Pepe could see it.
“Hola, el Gato,” said Pepe. “I have come to introduce myself to you. I am Pepe but you can call me el Jefe.”
“Do you speak Cat?” I asked Pepe.
“Of course, I do,” said Pepe.
“Well, then can you tell me what Albert is saying?” I asked. I could hear a low rumble emitting from the cat’s throat. It was not a purr.
“He is saying, ‘I will obey your every command, O noble and magnificent Dog,’” said Pepe.
It was true I didn’t speak Cat, but I was pretty sure that wasn’t what Albert was saying. My foreboding was quickly confirmed, when, with a mighty roar, Albert launched himself off the bed and landed on top of Pepe.
The next few minutes were pure pandemonium. I caught glimpses of white fur and orange stripes, heard yips and yowls, saw claws slashing and fur flying.
“Stop it, Albert!” I said. “Come here, Pepe!”
They both ignored me, but the fight was over almost as soon as it began. Albert leaped back on top of the bed and licked his paws, while Pepe trotted over to me, shaking himself off. I saw spots of blood on his white fur, right behind his right shoulder, and there was a red stripe across one of his ears.
“Well, I certainly showed that cat who is boss,” Pepe said, before exiting the room. I followed behind him. He was limping a little.
“Are you sure you’re all right, Pepe?” I asked. “Let me check you out.” He jumped up on the sofa and I looked him over. He had a few superficial cuts and a lot of damaged pride.
I got the rubbing alcohol out of the bathroom and checked on Albert at the same time. He seemed unscathed but annoyed. Thank God, he couldn’t talk. I really didn’t want to hear what he would have said.
Back in the living room, I applied rubbing alcohol to Pepe’s injuries. He winced at the bite of the liquid but didn’t complain.
“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” I asked. �
�Maybe I should take you to the vet.”
“I will be fine, senorita,” he said. “I have endured much more. In the Everglades, I fought off an alligator.”
“An alligator? Pepe, that’s ridiculous. Why would you be in the Everglades?”
“On a film shoot,” he said. “But that is another story for another day.”
“Well, if you’re fine, I am going to bed. I’ve had quite a day,” I said. “Are you coming with me?”
Pepe looked down the hallway at the bedroom. I think he was thinking of Albert. “I will stay out here to guard you,” he said, but his voice trembled a little.
“I appreciate that, Pepe,” I said, dropping a kiss on the top of his head. If he wanted to play the macho role, I would have to let him. I went to turn off the lamp.
“Do you think you could leave that on, Geri?” he asked, in a forlorn little voice. “I like to sleep with a night light.”
To my surprise, I fell into a deep sleep. Perhaps it was knowing that Pepe was on guard. Albert seemed to have suffered no harm from their encounter. He was already fast asleep in his usual spot at the bottom of the bed.
I’ve had Albert ever since the divorce. He was my husband’s cat, but his fiancée is allergic to cats so now he’s mine. Albert always liked me more than Jeff anyway. He lets me pet his tummy. I’m the only one that can get that close to him. And Albert lets me sleep in his bed. At least that’s how I think he thinks of it. Because by the end of any night, he’s taking up two-thirds of the space and I’m clinging to the side. Which is very similar to the way things were with Jeff, actually.
I woke up as the gray dawn light began to filter in through the rose-colored dotted swiss curtains over the bedroom window. I could hear the patter of raindrops against the glass. Albert was sprawled out on the other side of the bed snoring.
And then I heard voices coming from the living room. Instantly I was on alert, although Albert continued to slumber. Two men were arguing. They spoke so rapidly, I couldn’t make out their words. But their voices were rising in volume.
Who were they? What did they want? How did they get in? I didn’t remember locking the door the night before, but surely Pepe would have alerted me if intruders had come into the house. And why wasn’t Pepe barking? He barked once yesterday, why not now when it counted? Then I thought about how very small he was. It would be easy for a burglar to hurt him, kill him even. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t barked.
I leaped out of bed.
Chapter 6
Pulling on my bathrobe, I looked around for a weapon. The only thing I could find that seemed useful was a bottle of hair spray from the bathroom counter. I grabbed a nail file, too, just in case. Then I slipped through the door and whisked around the corner, hoping to surprise whoever was in the living room.
I was the one who was surprised. The living room was empty, except for Pepe. He was sitting on the chocolate brown sofa, directly in front of the TV, which was turned on to the Spanish channel.
He looked up at me and said, “Do you think Conchita will ever find true love with Hector?”
I was so relieved that I almost dropped the hair spray. Pepe had somehow switched on the TV and was watching a soap opera.
“You scared me to death,” I told him.
“Shhhhh! ” he said, turning back to the TV. “This is a juicy part. I do not want to miss it.”
I was about to ask how he managed to get the TV going, when I noticed the remote control on the carpet. He must have knocked it off the end table and manipulated it with his paws.
On the screen, a lovely woman wearing a tight red satin dress was pressing herself against a dangerous-looking dude with a mullet and a leather jacket.
“Oooo,” said Pepe, looking up at me again. “I told you it was going to be good. Sit down, Geri, watch the show with me. They are playing two episodes back to back.”
“I need some coffee,” I told him.
“Bueno,” he said. “Make your coffee and come back. I will fill you in on what has happened so far. Paraiso perdido is not to be missed.”
I’d been wrong: today was starting out as crazy as yesterday. But I was too tired to worry about it. I made some coffee, extra strong, and then sat down to watch the Spanish soaps with Pepe.
“You just missed the end of part uno,” he told me. “While the commercial is on, I will catch you up. Here is what happened. The beautiful Conchita was upset because handsome Hector did not invite her to the big dance as she expected, so she fell into the arms of Armando, the dangerous hombre with the mullet, to get back at Hector. At the end, Conchita was slow dancing with Armando, but secretly yearning for Hector, who was deep in the arms of Consuela, while he secretly yearned for Conchita. You follow?”
“Yes, I get it.”
“OK. Get ready, it is coming on again.” He hopped into my lap and made himself snug and cozy in the folds of my bathrobe, settling down with his ears perked forward. “Part dos is the finale. It promises to be muy dramático.”
The finale was muy dramatic. Hector asked Conchita to dance with him, but Armando objected. They got into a fight, and luckily Hector prevailed. But not Conchita. A ricocheting gunshot struck her down, and she died in Hector’s arms, with one last, lingering kiss.
Pepe gave a deep sigh. “Of course, she is not really dead,” he said.
“She looks pretty dead to me,” I said, as the camera panned in on her pale face, and Hector’s hand, as he gently drew her eyelids down over her staring eyes.
“No, the show cannot go on without Conchita. Believe me, next season it will be revealed that she was rushed to the hospital and saved by the handsome new gringo doctor. Meanwhile, Hector, believing she is dead, will kill Armando and go to jail.” He jumped off my lap and went into the kitchen, sniffing his empty food dish.
I opened the refrigerator door to get the Alpo.
“Speaking of jail,” said Pepe, “how did you escape? I heard the police say they were going to take you there. Are you a fugitive now? That would be muy dramatico!”
“No, I’m not a fugitive,” I said. “And how do you know what the police were saying?”
Pepe sat down and gave me a chiding look with his big brown eyes. “Geri,” he said, “are we not partners? I stayed near the scene of the crime so I could investigate.”
“OK,” I said, as I spooned the Alpo into the bowl. “What did you find out?”
“I found out there was a bitch in the car,” Pepe said.
I was so startled I almost dropped the spoon. “Pepe, I know Mrs. Tyler wasn’t a very nice woman but that’s not an appropriate word to use.”
“No, not the woman,” he said impatiently. “A she-dog. A bitch. Is that not the right term?”
“Oh, yes,” I said.
“Do you not think that is unusual?” Pepe asked. “Why take her dog along if she was going away for a week? And how did she know her husband was missing, if she was gone?”
“Good questions,” I said, putting the dish of Alpo on the floor in front of him.
“You know, Geri,” said Pepe, looking up at me, “I prefer bacon for breakfast.”
“You can prefer anything you want,” I said. “But I’m a vegetarian. No bacon in this house.”
“I suppose I should be glad you don’t try to make me a vegetarian,” Pepe grumbled. He took a few licks, then walked away. “Caprice tried that.”
“Caprice?”
“Sí, Caprice Kennedy.”
“The famous actress?”
“Sí,” Pepe sat down by the refrigerator and chewed on his hind leg.
“You know Caprice?”
“I lived with her for a year.”
“Wow! That must have been awesome,” I said. Caprice was one of my favorites among the young L.A. actresses. She had blond hair and big brown eyes and a talent for comedy. She was always playing a goofball or a ditz.
“Sí,” said Pepe. “She took me everywhere with her. I had my own chef and chauffeur and a maid to . . .” His voice t
railed off.
“To what?”
His voice was more subdued. “Dress me. She liked to dress me up in little outfits. You would never do that to me, would you, Geri?”
What could I say? I was so tempted. But I had to respect his wishes. “Of course not, Pepe.”
“It is not dignified for a dog to be dressed up like a doll. Or a cat.” He said that just as Albert strolled into the kitchen looking for his own breakfast. Despite his earlier rejection of the Alpo, Pepe now went over to stand in front of it. Albert just made an expressive sniff and walked on by.
“What happened to Caprice?” I asked. “Why don’t you still live with her?”
“I don’t want to talk about that,” Pepe said. He sounded like his little heart was going to break.
“OK, we won’t talk about it,” I said, although I was dying to know the inside scoop on Caprice Kennedy’s life. Did she really date Justin Timberlake? Was it true she had been in rehab five times? “Did you see anything else while you were investigating?”
“Oh, yes,” said Pepe, perking up a little. “I sniffed around the perimeter of the house. There was a horrible smell underneath a bush along the side of the house. Do you think it came from the murderer?”
“I don’t know Pepe. I suppose the murderer could have been lurking in the back yard, waiting for Mr. Tyler to come home.”
“Well, it was an awful smell, something like a cat box.” Pepe glanced at Albert who had jumped up onto the cushions of the breakfast nook and was preening himself. “I would recognize it anywhere. Can we go back and look at the crime scene? I will show you what I discovered. And maybe we can talk to that bitch—I mean, female dog.”
Chapter 7
“Are you not ready?” asked Pepe, coming into the bedroom where I was sitting at my makeup table. I have one of those old-fashioned makeup tables, with a circular mirror and two drawers on either side. It fits perfectly in my bedroom, which I’ve decorated in a thirties theme, complete with a pink chenille bedspread on my bed and ruffled, dotted swiss curtains.
Dial C for Chihuahua Page 3
