Teacup Tubulence

by Linda O. Johnston

  “Those may work just great,” I said. “Thanks for the idea.”

  The Faylers were met then by several people I recognized, local HotPets managers. “Excuse us,” Naya said.

  “We’ll get the dogs out, then be on our way,” Nelson said.

  I assured Tom and Naya that I’d see to the dogs getting onto their plane, and then they walked off with the others. Were they going to get an earful for not leaving some Bling collars with these managers? I hoped not. We’d already decided that, once this latest batch had been cleared—or the ones with true gems had been sorted out—Dante would have no concern about paying to get them shipped back here. Besides, the rollout in Las Vegas was scheduled for a couple of weeks from now, so their showing more to their customers and the media wasn’t currently urgent.

  I went to the Hannovers’ plane and helped to get the little dogs’ crates out. Then we removed the dogs from the crates and began walking them.

  That’s when I saw what appeared to be an argument going on by one of the hangars—not the nearest, but one not particularly far, either. The ground crew guys were in a heated discussion with some other men.

  Could this have something to do with their failure to unload the collars?

  “Excuse me,” I told Dwayne. “Could you take these two guys for a few minutes? I need to go find the little girls’ room. They have some in the hangars, don’t they?”

  “Sure.” He kindly took the leashes and poop bags from me, and I headed not toward the hangar where the ground crew men were, but toward the one closest to me.

  I went inside the hangar. One end also held a huge metal door that could open to allow planes inside.

  It was a vast building that held a single plane just now but appeared to have room for several more. Tools and machinery lined the walls, the uses of which I could only guess. The air was drafty, the floor was concrete, and it was empty of other people just now, which was a good thing. I saw where the restrooms were located at the end.

  Fortunately, there was another door there, too, which would be near the guys arguing outside. I was able to crack it open just a little.

  I wasn’t able to hear the apparently heated discussion near the next hangar, especially since the air was filled with the sound of another plane taking off or landing—I couldn’t tell which from here. That meant I didn’t know what they were arguing about. It could have had nothing to do with the Bling collars.

  Or it could have had everything to do with them. Especially since I did happen to hear just a few words. If I interpreted them correctly, they included “L.A.”—and one of them did, in fact, sound like “collar.”

  Another thought drove itself into my mind: Teresa Kantrim had had to wait for the Faylers’ plane on her journey from Missouri to L.A. Had she wandered around this area? If so, maybe she had overheard a discussion better than I did.

  Then, there had probably been no issue about the ground crew unloading every box of collars. And someone taking out the ones they wanted to keep.

  As they might have done on my last trip here. I hadn’t suspected anything then, and hadn’t double-checked the box we flew back to L.A., but the only collars I remembered seeing from any of the crates, after those boxes were first removed from the plane, were of the ordinary designs that I now believed hadn’t had actual jewels in them.

  So what if Teresa had overheard something that then led to her digs at Tom and Naya on the flight back to L.A.? Ones she had repeated in front of other people later.

  Okay, I realized I was making this up as I went along, in the hopes of joining the two mysteries and finding solutions. But what if Teresa had heard about some of the collars holding real, valuable jewels that were being transported to the Las Vegas airport that way and assumed the Faylers were aware of it—logical, considering Tom’s position in the HotPets Bling subsidiary?

  I stepped back and slowly pulled the door closed as I considered this. And also considered forgetting the whole idea.

  Why would Teresa have cared? What good would it have done her to gibe at people she thought were doing something underhanded, possibly illegal? She could have told Dante. Turned them over to the police. Whatever.

  But pushing that way . . . I still believed in the Faylers’ innocence, but what if whoever had been involved with attaching the real gems had heard her taunts and worried that she would begin aiming them at someone else—like the real culprit?

  That could have been a motive to kill her. I wasn’t convinced, though. It didn’t seem enough—did it?

  And even if it was, I still didn’t know who it was.

  • • •

  “So how do you want us to handle this, Lauren?” Naya asked. Our flight back to Van Nuys Airport had been fairly uneventful—if you didn’t count a couple of rounds of barking from the eight little dogs we were transporting to L.A.

  Such a din in such close quarters, even when the plane itself was noisy, still made my ears ring despite the fact we had just landed and the engine was now off.

  “Similarly to last time,” I told her. “Let’s put all the dogs in the back of my car and I’ll drive them to Carlie’s vet clinic.” I’d brought my Venza today instead of the shelter van, since there were fewer dogs to transport.

  “Naya means the boxes of collars,” Tom said. Both Faylers were peering between the front seats at me. And I’d of course known what she meant.

  “We’ll also put them into my car,” I said. “I’m going to leave them at Carlie’s overnight, too. I’ll ask her to have her jewel-expert cameraman take a look at them, see if any have real jewels or not before I hand them over to Dante to confirm it. In either case, I’ll pick the collars up tomorrow, even though the dogs won’t be ready to take to HotRescues that soon. I’ll keep them at HotRescues for now.”

  “And if some of them are decorated with real jewels?” Naya bit her lower lip, clearly uneasy with the situation.

  “They might not be, since I hinted aloud that we know the truth—assuming it is the truth,” I said. “Whoever’s involved might have decided not to do it again, or at least not to send any to Las Vegas.”

  “But if they are real?” Naya persisted. “And in those boxes?”

  I looked from her eyes into Tom’s, then back again. “I’m still assuming you two are innocent, but someone at HotPets must know the truth behind the real bling-encrusted collars. Once I get them back to HotRescues, we’ll put out the word that, on Dante’s okay, I’ll be giving out one of the collars from this trip to each person who adopts a dog from HotRescues, whether or not they’re the teacups. If there are real jewels involved, whoever set them is going to be pretty upset.”

  “He or she may come to HotRescues and break in.” Naya sounded horrified.

  “That’s true,” I said. “And it won’t be the first time there’s been a problem at my shelter—including Teresa’s murder.”

  “But—” Naya said.

  I interrupted her. “I think you both know me well enough to realize I’m not the victim type. And I won’t do anything that’ll result in any danger to our resident pets.”

  “Then what are you going to do?” Tom’s wide cheeks looked a little shrunken in concern now, and there wasn’t a smile on his usually pleased-looking face.

  “I can’t tell you. Not now. But I’m going to ask for your cooperation soon, if all goes well. Can I count on you?”

  When they both assured me I could, I just hoped that neither was lying about their involvement or about whether I could rely on their help when the time came.

  • • •

  As I’d told the Faylers, the dogs, the collars, and I headed to Carlie’s.

  If there really were genuine jewels in those dog adornments, I had no doubt that those guys I saw arguing with the baggage handlers in Las Vegas knew about it, or were at least under some kind of orders to make sure the collars were taken off the plane and secured somewhere.

  Which they hadn’t been.

  And someone here in L.A. had proba
bly been told that.

  As a result, I swore Tom and Naya to absolute secrecy—for now. Plus, I told them to be extremely cautious, since whoever was involved with putting real jewels in the necklaces might be concerned about the disappearance of this batch, and the Faylers were the obvious people to be hiding them. They could be in danger.

  For my own little scheme, I also got Tom and Naya to promise that they would tell everyone at HotPets about it when I let them know that the collars were finally brought to HotRescues.

  Chapter 34

  I phoned Carlie on my way to The Fittest Pet. I told her about the dogs and asked, without going into detail, if she might be able to get Darius to the pet hospital that afternoon.

  “I’ll check and see,” she told me. “I think it’s pretty likely.”

  And in fact, when I reached the pet hospital, she already had some of her staff on call once more to help unload the dogs.

  As well as the boxes of collars.

  “Darius said he’d be here within the hour,” she told me after I’d made sure the cute little dogs were all settled and ready to be checked over by Carlie or one of her staff vets.

  While I was waiting, I spent more time with those little dogs when they weren’t on the examination tables or otherwise being checked for any medical issues.

  Juliet Ansiger had previously assured me that everyone in this group, too, had been looked at by a vet before leaving Missouri, and all had been fine. Even so, I trusted Carlie and her gang a lot more than some doctors I hadn’t met half a country away.

  While I was with them, I considered the names of small airplanes that the Faylers had suggested. Once they were adopted out, their new families could, of course, rename them. I supposed those names were as good as any others.

  But I’d let my staff and volunteers assign who would be called what. This time, we had two poodles—a white one and a black one—two Chihuahuas, three Yorkies, and a Pomeranian.

  All, of course, were adorable, and I had a wonderful time vegging out, not worrying—for a short while, at least—and hugging one after another.

  Until Carlie came back into the large exam room where she’d left us. “Darius is here.”

  “How long will it take him to check out the collars?” I asked.

  “He’s already working on them.”

  I knelt and gave a poodle and the Pomeranian a last hug for now—enjoying that both of them licked me on the cheek—and followed Carlie out of the room, which was filled with veterinary equipment I didn’t attempt to identify and a bunch of small dogs I’d eventually pick up once more and take to HotRescues.

  I followed her into her office, which was where we had piled the boxes filled with collars.

  I recognized the cameraman, even though, rather than a high-tech camera, he had what I figured was a jeweler’s loupe in his hand, holding it up to his eye as he examined one of the collars. He sat on one of the chairs facing Carlie’s desk.

  “What do you think?” I asked without preamble. I figured he knew who I was, too.

  “Just give me a few minutes,” he said.

  I’m not a very patient person, but I nevertheless sat down on the chair next to him, while Carlie went around and took her own seat behind the desk, facing us. She and I chatted for a while about the situation with the kids who’d adopted some of our teacups to resell, and what I was doing about it. I tried not to allow myself to get into as angry a state of mind as I could have in discussing this. After all, that was all nearly resolved.

  But if Carlie asked if she could feature the situation on one of her Pet Fitness TV shows, I’d probably lose my cool and yell. Not a good idea.

  I could tell her no calmly—yet really firmly. She knew me well enough that she wouldn’t argue with me.

  Darius, who’d seemed oblivious to our conversation as he pulled collars from each of the four boxes and studied them, eventually looked up, pulling the loupe away from his face. There was a squint to his dark eyes that I had noticed before, and I’d assumed it was from concentrating his stare on his camera. Maybe it was more than that. He was a short fellow, maybe in his forties, with thinning blond hair. “Let me start by saying that what I can tell here is not absolute, any more than it was with the earlier stones I looked at in those other collars.”

  “Why is that?” I asked.

  “There are chemical and other ways of testing gems and their quality,” he said in a formal tone, as if he were holding a class. Maybe he had taught some in his past, when he’d made his living as a jeweler. “Keeping them mounted in these collars, where they’re set really deeply and firmly so they won’t fall out and get swallowed by the dogs, makes it even harder to tell for sure. We always look for clarity and evenness of color, among other qualities, but the glue holding them in can mess that up, too. That was the same with the earlier collars I looked at as well.”

  “Then why did you think some of them had real gems mounted in them?” I asked, trying not to sound impatient. What if this was all a big mistake, on the word of a guy who only wanted his supposed prowess in telling real from fake jewels to impress the star of the TV show he helped to film? But, no. Dante had had at least some of the jewels confirmed as real, and I felt certain he had checked with experts.

  “Experience,” Darius said simply. “I studied them a lot more carefully than I’m doing now. Over time, I’ve looked at gemstones mounted in expensive and cheap settings. I’ve looked at paste and other manufactured stones also mounted in a variety of settings. Before I dumped that whole career and went into film, where I find the larger venues and the work with people a lot more gratifying, I was a jeweler for fifteen years. I came to trust my own judgment, and so did the people I worked for.” He shrugged. “Before, I’d tell you that the collar designs that depicted canine noses and tiaras contained a lot of the real thing. Not so, this time. Someone either knew they’d been found out, or they decided to change for other reasons. But now it appears that the ones with those silly splayed-out chicken shapes and dumbbells have at least a few real jewels within their designs. Am I positive? Pretty much. But to be absolutely sure, you’d want to have someone who’s still in the jewelry business and designated an expert take them off the collars and test them.”

  “But you’re relatively certain?” I asked, half standing. I’d expected the possibility, but now I was jazzed.

  “Yes,” he said, nodding.

  Good. I now could follow up on the plans I’d been formulating, and I was excited about what other results they might have.

  “So what will you do about it, Lauren?” Carlie’s tone was quiet, as if she were the voice of reason in this room. She looked as if she was, in her white veterinary jacket, her violet eyes calm as she watched me.

  I didn’t want to tell her in front of Darius. I didn’t necessarily want to tell her at all. I had a feeling she would be like Matt in this case and order me not to do what I had in mind.

  But I wasn’t stupid or careless. I’d factor in all the negative possibilities and make sure I was prepared for the worst.

  And not do it alone.

  “I’m still thinking about it,” I told Carlie.

  The suddenly stern expression on her TV-star-attractive face told me she wasn’t buying what I’d said. “You won’t do anything foolish,” she ordered, not making it a question.

  “Do I ever do anything foolish?” I responded. And when she opened her mouth to answer—clearly about to remind me of situations where I hadn’t been exactly careful, I added, “You don’t need to respond to that. But don’t worry. I’ve thought this through carefully but still want to consider some of the angles before I do anything. In any event, don’t worry. I promise I—”

  She repeated right along with me: “—won’t do anything foolish.”

  I hoped.

  Chapter 35

  I pondered for a while how to deal with this best, most safely, and—of the greatest importance—most effectively.

  On my drive back to HotRescues on su
rface streets that were much too crowded, especially considering that today was Sunday, I considered a long detour to the HotPets offices. I figured Dante would be there despite it being a late weekend afternoon.

  I realized, though, that the conversation I needed to have with him would go better by phone. What if some members of his staff happened to be there, too? My presence at his business right now would only complicate matters further, especially if he bought into the plan I was now finalizing in my mind.

  Since this ride was taking longer than I’d hoped, I considered phoning Dante right then. But though I’d be using my hands-free system in the car, I would want to concentrate on what I was saying, not to mention to his reaction.

  No, better that I be sitting at my desk at HotRescues, listening to the tone in Dante’s voice and considering nuances of what he said—and didn’t say.

  That, of course, didn’t happen as quickly as I’d hoped, even when I finally reached my shelter. First, there was a family with teenage kids who were interested in adopting a medium-to-large-sized dog. Only the mother was there, and she’d been shown around by one of our newer volunteers. She seemed taken with Wellington, an English sheepdog mix. She’d been told that her whole family would need to meet Wellington, and she was just about to dash off and pick up her kids at home. Her husband would meet them here later.

  But she was full of questions about our adoption process and what we knew about Wellington’s background—which was really only which public shelter we’d rescued him from—and more.

  I was the person there with the most answers, so I got caught up for a while helping her. Which I didn’t mind doing, since she seemed nice and, depending on her family and the contents of her application, might in fact become Wellington’s new mama.

  I had to swallow my impatience, though. What I really wanted was to call Dante.