“I got eggs too!” said D. J.
“I got more!” said Danielle. She pushed him aside.
D. J. began crying. That was a familiar scenario to me, too. My sister always had to be the best at everything.
I thought I should distract them. “I want you to meet—” but when I turned around Pepe had disappeared and so had Felix. That was odd. I greeted Don and helped the kids find the remaining eggs until it began to rain and we went inside.
As we trooped through the kitchen, Cheryl scolded Don for letting the kids get dirty and sent him off to clean them up. Then she pulled me aside.
“Where did you find him?” she asked.
“At the shelter,” I said.
“You picked up a shelter worker?”
“Oh, I thought you were talking about Pepe. No, actually I picked up Felix in a parking lot.”
“Geri! You’ve got to really do something about your taste in men. You always go for—”
I interrupted her lecture. “Where did they go anyway?”
“I’m right here.” It was Felix. He had come in behind me and put his hand on the small of my back. I felt a little thrill run through my body. “Your dog was starting to shake—he looked scared—so I suggested we go back to the car and he seemed happy to comply.”
“That doesn’t sound like my dog,” I said. “Are you sure?”
“Go and see for yourself!” he suggested.
“I think I will,” I headed out to the car. Pepe was sitting curled up in the back with a bowl of water beside him. Felix had taken off his jacket and used it to make a sort of nest for Pepe. How thoughtful! He really seemed like a nice guy. The windows in the front of the car were rolled down about halfway so there was plenty of air circulation. And since the sun was hidden behind a bank of clouds, the temperature inside the car was cool.
“Are you OK?” I asked him.
Pepe lifted his head. “How could you not have warned me?” he asked.
“Warned you about what?
“Those niños!”
“Oh, sorry, Pepe, I forgot you hate kids.”
“It is not that I hate niños,” he said. “But that they like me too well. They grab me around the neck, they poke my eyes, they pull my delicate ears. It is not safe for me to be around los niños.”
“So you’re content to stay in the car?”
“Sí! ” he said, “as long as you promise to bring me leftovers.”
Just as I was about to return to the house, a red Ferrari pulled up. It was Jeff, with his petite blond fiancée, Amber. Pepe got up to check out the car.
“¡Ay caramba!” Pepe said. “That is one hot ride, Geri.”
“I never got to ride in it,” I mumbled. “Jeff bought it after the divorce.”
“He has good taste in cars,” Pepe said. “I do not understand why you would dump this guy.”
“I didn’t dump him, Pepe!” I protested. “He dumped me!”
“Geri! Good to see you!” said Jeff, getting out of the car and heading my way. He looked as handsome as ever, which is pretty handsome. He has thick, dark hair, big brown eyes, and a square jaw. His body looked trim in a white polo shirt and tight jeans. He works out three times a week with a personal trainer. He gave me a quick hug, pressing close so I could feel what I had missed.
“Hi, Geri!” It was Amber, coming up on his flank. Her long blond hair had been carefully styled to fall in artless waves, and she wore a knit red dress that matched the color of the car. She gave me a hug, too, but hers was a mere gesture—a sort of cheek to cheek, pat on the back hug. There is no love lost between us. Amber knows she stole my diamond after I spent years polishing him. Suddenly she gave a squeal.
“What is it, honey?” asked Jeff.
“Oh look at that cute dog in Geri’s car!” Amber said pointing at Pepe. “I want one just like that! Can I hold him?”
“Let me out, Geri!” said Pepe, his eyes bright. I was a little hurt that he was so eager to embrace my rival.
“OK,” I said.
I opened the car door, planning to pick him up and hand him to her. But Pepe was faster than me. He jumped out, hurried over to Jeff, lifted his leg, and peed all over Jeff’s loafers.
Chapter 28
“Pepe!” I yelled. “Why did you do that?”
“I want him to know who is top dog in your life!” Pepe said. “Thus I covered up his odor with my own.” At least that’s what I think he said. Jeff was shrieking in the background, while hopping up and down trying to remove his soiled socks and shoes.
“I’m sorry, Jeff,” I said, hurrying to his aid. “I promise to replace them.”
But I don’t think Jeff heard me, so I repeated the offer once we were all sitting around the dining room table (Jeff in his bare feet). Don was bringing in the dishes from the kitchen. Jeff was at one end of the table, with Amber to his left, and Cheryl was at the other end, with an empty space for Don to her right. The two kids were beside their dad, and Felix and I were squeezed in between Amber and Cheryl.
“Just order a new pair, and I’ll pay for them,” I said.
“You couldn’t possibly replace these,” Jeff said. “They’re authentic crocodile leather. We bought them while we were in Milan. They cost over four thousand dollars. You couldn’t afford them!”
That’s when Cheryl dropped the bomb and told everyone that I had a new job as a private investigator. Jeff started laughing, and Amber, after hesitating, joined him.
“No, really,” said Cheryl, as she supervised Don’s placement of the dishes on the table. “Put the Jell-O salad over by Geri and her friend.” She had forgotten his name. “It’s not a joke.”
“I work for the Gerrard Agency,” I said, as we began passing the dishes around.
“I think I’ve heard that name before,” Jeff mused.
“How did you ever get hired?” Amber asked. There was a little too much emphasis on the word ever for me.
“The normal way,” I said. “I saw an ad. I answered it. I went for an interview. I got hired.” I wanted to add “not by being the daughter of the boss,” but I restrained myself.
“Mommy, I don’t like that!” Danielle was staring down at her broccoli. My sister is not a good cook. She takes after my mother. At least the food was familiar. It was what we had every year for Easter dinner—deviled eggs, a sliced ham, scalloped potato casserole, broccoli, and a green Jell-O salad with chunks of pineapple and cottage cheese floating in it.
“Just eat one bite of everything,” Cheryl instructed. Don was feeding pieces of broccoli to D. J. who was strapped into a high chair to Don’s right. Cheryl had overcooked it as usual. It was slimy and limp.
“The Gerrard Agency.” Jeff paused with his wineglass held high. He was twirling the stem in his fingers. An affectation I used to find charming. He’s got a huge wine cellar and had brought several bottles as his contribution to the dinner. “Isn’t that the guy who has an investment club?” Jeff directed that question at Don.
Don popped another piece of broccoli into D. J.’s open mouth and nodded. “I believe so.”
“Really?” I asked. It was hard to imagine Jimmy G. running an investment fund. “Are you sure we’re talking about the same guy? Jimmy Gerrard.”
Jeff and Don looked at each other and shook their heads.
“No, never heard of Jimmy Gerrard. This guy’s name is Stewart.”
“Oh, you’re talking about Stewart Gerrard,” I said. “He’s Jimmy G.’s brother.”
“Yes, that’s right,” said Jeff. “I remember him now. We went to a presentation at his house.”
“Whatever happened to the investment club?” I asked.
“Oh, it just didn’t smell right to me,” said Jeff. “I passed on it. Did you go in, Don?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, we did,” said Don, looking at my sister. “We’re supposed to get our first dividends in June. According to the reports, the value of our investment has doubled.”
“That seems impossible in thi
s economy,” said Jeff, with a frown.
“That’s what we thought, but Stewart has a system. He buys high-yield securities in foreign currencies, and sells low-yield securities in U.S. dollars. Plus he takes out interest-free loans to protect the returns. It creates something he calls a mirror-image trading position.”
“Well,” said Jeff, shaking his head, “I’m sorry I passed on it.”
“Yes,” said Amber. Her voice was a little tight. “If you had invested, maybe we could afford to buy that vacation property in the San Juans.”
“But you have to agree,” Jeff said, with a chiding look at his fiancée, “that we already have everything we need right here. Family, friends, great wine, good food.”
D. J. made a weird noise. His eyes got big and suddenly, as if someone had turned on a water fountain, green liquid gushed from his mouth. It burbled out, down his little yellow polo shirt and into the lap of his brand new Gap Kids corduroy jeans.
The sight of her baby brother throwing up had a contagious effect on Danielle. She gagged but was old enough to know to put her hand in front of her mouth. Cheryl whisked her away from the table.
“No causal connection with Jeff’s comment,” Felix whispered in my ear. I had to smile.
Jeff must have noticed and decided to take Felix down a notch. “So what do you do for a living?” he asked him.
“I’m an animal trainer,” Felix said. “These days I mostly work with dogs.”
There was silence, then Jeff said, “Well, you certainly can’t claim any success with Geri’s new pet.”
I expected Felix to protest that he hadn’t had a chance to work with Pepe but he just remained silent. I remembered the training maxim he had taught me: Reward behavior you want to encourage. Ignore behavior you want to extinguish.
“What do you expect from a shelter dog?” Cheryl commented, as she came back into the room without Danielle. “No one wanted them. They’re secondhand goods.”
“Like Geri’s furniture,” said Jeff, with a smirk.
“And her clothes,” Amber added.
“Hey, that’s not-—”
Felix put a warning hand on my leg, just under the table, and I stopped talking. Unfortunately, he withdrew it as soon as I did. Now what kind of reward system is that?
“How long have you two been—?” Amber asked the question but paused, hesitant about what word to use.
“She just picked him up in a parking lot so she’d have a date for Easter dinner,” Cheryl observed. She had had a few glasses of wine by then, and her words were a little slurred.
“Actually, Geri rescued me from certain attack by her protective pup,” Felix said, “and when I heard about the upcoming Easter dinner, I invited myself along. I really miss my family at Easter.”
That led to a discussion of how everyone celebrated Easter. Cheryl seemed happier with Felix when she learned he was Catholic. Turns out he had attended Mass earlier in the day, which is why he was so dressed up when he came to pick me up.
“Tell me about where you grew up,” said Felix, seeing he was making some inroads with Cheryl.
“Tekoa,” Cheryl said. “It’s a tiny little town about fifty miles south of Spokane in eastern Washington. Population 826 in 2000.”
“And your parents? Do they still live there?”
There was an awkward silence. Don got up and began clearing plates.
“No,” I said, at last, wanting to break the spell. “They both died in a car accident when we were young.”
“Oh, I’m sorry!” Felix said. “That must have been very difficult for you. How did you manage?”
“Well, Cheryl was already attending school at the UW, so she brought me and my younger sister out to Seattle so she could take care of us.”
“You have a younger sister?”
“Yes, Theresa. My parents called us Sherry, Geri, and Terri. A cruel joke!” I tried to warn him not to go where he was going. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it but apparently that only encouraged him.
“And where is Terri now?” Felix asked.
“We don’t know,” I said.
“Don’t know?”
“She’s been missing for ten years.”
Cheryl burst into noisy tears. “Go ahead and say it!” she said. “Say it’s all my fault!”
“Cheryl, you know I don’t—”
“Honey, no one blames you—”
“That’s what you all say but I know better,” said Cheryl and she stormed out of the room.
Chapter 29
“What did you think?” I asked Felix, once we were in the car and on our way back to Seattle. Pepe was in the back chowing down on the plate of leftovers I had brought him.
“I think the ham is too dry,” Pepe mumbled, his mouth full.
“You can be honest,” I said.
“Okay, then the broccoli is overcooked, too,” said Pepe.
“Your sister is a bit—” Felix hesitated.
“Bossy,” I said. “Yes, I know. But you can’t really blame her. She had to become responsible way too young.”
“The Jell-O salad has a nice flavor,” said Pepe. “But I do not care for the texture.”
“She was only a sophomore in college when our parents died. Once she moved me and my sister to Seattle, she had to be a parent and a student at the same time.”
“It was hard for you, as well,” Felix observed. “Leaving behind everything you knew and coming to a strange city.” It was kind of him to notice. Cheryl has made such a big deal about her sacrifice that I had never thought too much about how it affected me. I had to leave the small town where I grew up. And transfer from a school with a total of 114 students to a big urban school with 1,600 students enrolled.
“Yes,” I said, “we all adapted in our own way. I tried to not cause any trouble while my sister Terri did the exact opposite. She went wild.”
“I’m really sorry I asked about her,” Felix said.
“I was trying to warn you not to go there by squeezing your hand.”
“Oh, and I thought you were trying to encourage me,” Felix said with a laugh. “That’s the trouble with unclear signals.”
“No way is she going to encourage you, senor,” said Pepe, who had finished up the leftovers and was now giving his full attention to our conversation.
“So you have no idea what happened to her?” Felix asked.
I shook my head. “No. She dropped out of high school but she seemed to be getting by, waitressing and such, until 2001 when she just vanished.” I paused, decided to say it out loud. “We’re both afraid she’s dead. Else why would she never have contacted us?” My voice caught a little.
Felix reached over and put his hand on mine.
Pepe said, “Don’t cry, Geri.”
“I’m not crying,” I said.
“It’s OK if you want to cry,” Felix said. He was quiet, then asked. “Do you think that had anything to do with your becoming a private investigator?”
“Oh!” I was surprised by the question and had to think about it. “I guess that makes sense. I suppose if I had the right skills, I might be able to find her. Or at least find out what happened to her.”
“Do not worry, Geri,” said Pepe. “I will track her down for you. Just give me something of hers to sniff, and I can find her anywhere.”
“Where did you get your training?” Felix asked. We were coasting down the long ramp of the freeway exit on our way into Seattle.
“Well, I haven’t really had any,” I said. “I just got a couple of books from the library.”
“Your agency didn’t provide training?”
“She does not need training,” said Pepe. “She is working with me!”
“My boss said he would pay for classes,” I said. I was feeling down as I always did when I thought of Terri. “I should follow up on that. First thing tomorrow.” I gave a sigh, thinking of the long day ahead of me.
“After we rescue Siren Song,” said Pepe.
“Speaking of th
at,” I said. “What would you say if I told you I know someone who has trained her dog to dance?”
“Yes, I’ve seen that done,” Felix said. “They call it canine freestyling. I think it looks ridiculous.”
“No one cares what you think, buddy,” said Pepe.
“Mostly the people, not the dogs,” Felix hastened to add. “Dogs always look attractive. Even when dancing around on their hind legs.”
“That is the first smart thing you have said, mister,” said Pepe.
“What if I told you this person trains her dog by hitting her on the nose?”
“Ouch!” said Felix.
“Empathy,” said Pepe. “That is a good quality.”
“I don’t approve of training methods that use punishment,” Felix said. “You treat the dog with disrespect, you either get an animal that has its spirit broken or you create a nasty case of aggression.”
“This vato is starting to make sense,” Pepe said.
“So how do you train a dog?” I asked.
“I only use positive reinforcement. When the dog does what I want, I reward it. With food, at first.”
“I am beginning to like this guy more and more,” Pepe observed.
“Then?”
“Then with praise.”
“And does that work on people?”
“You bet it does,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. He had just pulled up in front of my courtyard. “Let me walk you to your door.”
“I will protect her from malfeasants,” said Pepe. “No need for you to do so, hombre! ” He clawed at the screen and barked fiercely.
“Your little guy seemed to do better on the way home,” Felix observed, as we got out of the car and released Pepe from the back. He sprang out and scrambled onto the parkway where he immediately lifted his leg.
“How come you’re not peeing on his shoes?” I asked Pepe.
“Do you want me to?” he asked.
“No, no, it’s fine,” I said.
“You talk to your dog a lot,” Felix observed. “It’s almost like you are having a conversation with him.”
“It seems that way to me most of the time,” I said, tucking my arm into his.
Dial C for Chihuahua Page 14
