“No, Pepe! Basta!” Brien said once again. This time, he pointed at his eyes with two fingers, and then pointed at the parrot in that “I’m watching you gesture” he’d picked up from some movie. “Shh,” Brien added, putting a finger to his lips.
As Brien walked away, he turned and said “shh” again. Pepe didn’t say a word at first. Then he started repeating the sound Brien had made.
“Shh. Shh. Shh.” The sound was repetitive, but at least Pepe spoke it softly.
“Ha-ha! You are the parrot whisperer, after all,” Bonnie said as we came to a halt in front of a stash of goodies for Archie. “I’ll have to add those tricks you just used to my repertoire. What works best for me is to cover his cage with a blanket. That settles him down, so he doesn’t scream all night long.”
“Thank goodness something works,” I said.
“This dog has almost as much gear as Anastasia,” Brien observed.
“Anastasia’s a wonderful poodle our friend in the desert owns,” I said since Bonnie had no clue about what Brien had said. “He’s right. That dog has everything, but so does this guy.”
Some mom I was going to be. It hadn’t even occurred to me to buy any of this stuff for him. I tried to cover up for my thoughtlessness.
“Thanks for making sure he comes home with us so well-equipped,” I said. “We haven’t had a chance to shop.”
“You had to work today. Normally, I wouldn’t send all this home with you for an overnight stay, but since we’ve heard from just about everyone except his owners, you may be his foster parents longer than we planned.”
“We were going to ask if you’d reached his owners,” I said. “Apparently, they’re registered at the resort hotel, but no one has seen or spoken to them since yesterday or the day before. Al called their suite, but no one answered the phone.”
“I did the same thing. I called, and when no one answered, I left a voicemail message. It’s strange, isn’t it? Especially now that it’s a hot story on TV and elsewhere.”
“We think so, but one of the bigwigs responsible for the Fourth of July Regatta doesn’t see it that way. He told Al, Elliot Mason and his wife are on what sounds like a second honeymoon, and practically ordered Al to stand down until the Do Not Disturb sign comes off their door.”
“He must not be a dog lover, or he’d be more concerned that Mason and his wife are beside themselves with worry.”
“This Gardner guy had a quick answer for that, too,” Brien said and explained about the doggie spa.
“That’s hogwash. He couldn’t give you a name because there’s no private doggy spa in San Albinus. Watch out for him, you two. He’s slick, but what he says doesn’t add up. You know what? I’ve been toying with the idea all day. I’m calling Bernie.”
“Bernie?” Brien asked.
“As in Bernie Mitchum?” I added.
“Yes. This is absurd. He needs to get into that suite now!” Before we could say another word, she had the detective on the phone.
“Bernie, hon, it’s Bonnie.” Brien and I looked at each other. I mouthed the word “hon” with a puzzled expression on my face. Bonnie isn’t Mitchum’s wife’s name. Brien shrugged and shook his head. “I’m fine. I’ll be leaving here as soon as I send Kim and Brien home with the lost dog that was in the headlines today.” Then she paused and looked at us.
“Gidget and Moondoggie?” she asked. We nodded. “Uh-huh, that’s them. Yes, Brien’s the guy in the video who rescued the dog. No, I don’t believe so. Hang on, and I’ll ask them.”
“Has anyone tried to shoot you, run you over, or anything like that?” We shook our heads no.
“No. I was sure they would have told me that, but I checked with them anyway. I’m the one who had lots of encounters with strangers today. Not all of them were pleasant, either.” Bonnie paused. “By phone, mostly. I did have to square off with this hustler named Teddy. He was getting testy with me until Brien showed up.”
Brien handed her his phone with the picture of the license plate number. Still hanging onto the phone, she wrote down the number. “I’ve got Teddy’s license plate number for you. I’ll bring it with me when I get there for dinner. Here’s what we need you to do right now.”
Then Bonnie explained what was going on with the dog and his owners who couldn’t be reached and who hadn’t been seen since well before the dog turned up swimming for his life this morning. She mentioned what I’d told her about not showing up for dinner or canceling their reservation. Then she went silent, apparently listening to what Bernie had to say. Her toe tapped, and then one hand flew to her hip.
“Bernard Mitchum, this is your baby sister speaking to you, not some quack. I want you to pay those people a visit. If you can’t get them to open the door, get the night manager, uh, uh,” she paused and looked at us again.
“Bigelow. Angela Bigelow,” I said.
“Get Angela Bigelow to let you in. Something’s rotten in Denmark. Trust me, you’ll thank us later.” As soon as she ended the call, I had a question for her.
“How can you be Bernie’s baby sister?” I asked. “You’re so young.”
“And you’re the Bernie whisperer if he’s going to do what you just told him to do,” Brien added.
“I’m twenty years younger than Bernie, and I’ve been getting him to do what I want since I was two. This time, it’s for his own good.”
“It’s none of my business, but is Wilcox your married name?” I asked.
“Yes. I’ll have to introduce you to Larry one of these days. He runs a sport fishing boat. Larry’s going to be crazy busy while the regatta’s underway. After that, why don’t I have him take us out on the boat for a sunset cruise?”
“That would be awesome,” Brien said. Bonnie pulled a business card from a pocket in her smock and scribbled a phone number on the back before handing it to me.
“Since you drive that golf cart around town, I know you have seatbelts, right?” I still had no words after another lesson in how small a town San Albinus is. How could Bonnie and Bernie be brother and sister? I couldn’t see any resemblance between them physically or temperamentally. Brien kept the conversation moving.
“We’ve got all the safety equipment required to make it street-worthy.”
“Okay, help me haul all his stuff to the golf cart. Once we have it stowed away, I’ll show you how to hook your dog’s safety harness through the seat belt.”
“Archie,” I said, finally able to speak. “We’ve decided to call him Archie.”
“I noticed. That’s a good name for a sweet, easy-going fellow.” In minutes, we were on our way. Bonnie had prepared typewritten instructions about caring for him and agreed that a walk was fine as long as we didn’t overdo it. “If you need me, call my number that’s on the back of Larry’s card—anytime, day or night!” Brien and I nodded, thanked her, and left as she went back inside.
I felt anxious as Brien drove home, and I kept checking Archie who was sprawled out on the seat behind us. He’d fallen asleep almost as soon as we began moving. We rode in silence most of the way home before I spoke.
“He must still be worn out,” I whispered, not wanting to wake Archie.
“I’m glad he’s resting,” Brien whispered. “I didn’t want him to try to jump out while we were moving. He must have experience riding in a golf cart the way he climbed in.”
“Won’t Mick and Willow be surprised? I can’t wait for them to meet Archie.” To my astonishment, the dog whacked the seat with his tail. “Could he already recognize his new name?”
“He’s smart! Look how quick he was to choose you as his foster mom?”
“He did, didn’t he?” I looked over my shoulder and marveled at the surprising twists this day had taken.
“Now that Bonnie’s given Mitchum his marching orders, I guess we ought to wait before we try to get into the suite,” I said as Brien turned off onto the strip of blacktop that runs to our house. Fortunately, given our situation, it was nearly invisible from pass
ersby in cars and golf carts. We’d cycled past and driven by several times before we noticed a small “for rent” sign. That day, we were traveling along the path on foot from the resort to San Albinus, or we wouldn’t have seen it.
Marked “private,” the street leads past our cottage to several other secluded hideaways. I couldn’t imagine the street would remain hidden for much longer. The resort developers must be aware of the money they could make if they tore down the old properties along this elevated stretch of land overlooking the beach. For now, though, we had the place almost to ourselves. Only rarely had we seen a car or vehicle of any kind, other than a garbage truck that comes by weekly.
I enjoy our privacy, although the isolation could also make us more vulnerable if someone came after us. When Bonnie asked us that question about anyone shooting at us or trying to run us down, maybe we should have answered, “Not yet.”
6 Friendly News
We got Archie settled in as soon as we hauled all his stuff inside for him. We put his doggie bed in our room near us, fed him, and gave him water. Then we hung his harness and leash on the wall near the back door leading to the patio. He was wary at first, but after a few minutes, he was trotting after each of us as we moved around the house.
Apparently, he found both Brien and me quite fascinating and didn’t want to miss any of the important things we were doing. Mostly, that involved giving the house a once-over before our guests arrived. Brien did most of the sprucing up while I prepared food. We’ve tried having him make dinner, while I clean up, but he can eat a dish as fast as he can fix it.
Brien went by carrying a dart game. When he headed out to the patio to set it up, Archie followed him. Then I saw Archie race past the open door and run by the other way with a tennis ball in his mouth.
The game of fetch continued as I prepared dinner and placed the food on the bar for self-serve. Chips and guacamole, salsa, stuffed mushroom caps, and slaw to go with a tray of fish tacos that I’d been keeping warm in the oven. Brien was laughing at something Archie was doing, and that made me laugh. Then I heard a crash.
“What are you all doing out there?” I asked as I ran to the screen door. Archie came running and stood there bowing and woofing—inviting me to play.
“Aren’t you adorable.”
“Thanks,” Brien said as he stepped into view behind Archie. “I knocked the dart board on the ground, but it’s okay.”
“That’s good. Our guests will be here—any minute now.” I must be psychic because the doorbell rang as I finished my sentence. Brien came inside and ran to answer the door while I hurried back into the kitchen to finish setting up for dinner.
“Come on in,” Brien said as he opened the door and Archie sat down near me in the kitchen.
Oh, dang, I’m not psychic after all, I thought when I saw who Brien had invited into our home.
“Hello, Mitchum,” I said. “Have a seat and help yourself if you haven’t already eaten.”
“I’m sorry to barge in on you,” Bernie said as he eyed the food spread out on the bar. “Is that guacamole?”
“It is. Would you like to try it while you tell us what brings you to our little love shack?” Normally, the reference to our humble abode as a love shack would have irritated him, but his gaze was fixed on that bowl of guacamole. Our detective friend has a weakness for food—and not just coffee and donuts.
“I’ll bet the guacamole is great on those fish tacos.”
“There’s only one way to find out, Detective. Collect the evidence and put it to the test.” That made him smile.
“What’s up?” I asked as Mitchum put a taco on his plate, and then loaded it with slaw and guacamole before covering it in the sauce I’d made. He hadn’t answered my question when the doorbell rang again.
“I’ll get it,” Brien said.
“Is that the dog?” Mitchum asked.
“Yes. We’re calling him Archie.” I replied. Archie sat near me—half-hidden, but in a place where he could see who came in through the door. “He’s barely used to us, so I’m not sure he’s ready for a party.”
“Bonnie says he a great dog and he sure has taken to you.” Archie’s tail swept the floor and brushed against my ankle. Then he scooted a little closer to me.
“Look who’s here,” Brien called out as he closed the door. My psychic powers had failed me again.
“Hello, Bede. Pull up a seat,” I said. “Have a fish taco, why don’t you? I didn’t ask you if you wanted a beer, Mitchum. How about you, Bede?”
“I could use something cold to drink,” Bede replied, grabbing a plate and a taco. Then he slipped onto the barstool next to Mitchum.
“Me, too. I’m off duty.” Mitchum shoved half of that taco into his mouth.
“Two ice cold brewskies, coming right up!” Brien dug into a cooler he’d filled with ice and loaded with beer and soft drinks. After Brien set the beers in front of our two unexpected visitors, he opened one for himself. Then he picked up a taco, loaded it, and wolfed it down. The two dozen tacos I’d made were going fast.
I had tortillas and jack cheese in the fridge. If I had to, I could whip up a batch of quesadillas. Then, I remembered we had brownies and ice cream for dessert. I’d made lots of those so Mick and Willow would have some to take home.
Once Bede and the detective told us why they were here, they might leave while we still had enough food for Mick and Willow. Wondering when they were going to leave wasn’t just about the food. I’d promised Willow we’d tell them all about Brien’s rescue effort, and what we’d learned about the dog’s owners. Since Mitchum’s mouth was too full to speak, I opened my mouth to ask Bede why he’d stopped by. Not quick enough. The doorbell rang again.
“Yo, a priest and a detective were seated at a bar. What did they say to the security associate and his wife?” Mick asked, smirking.
“We don’t know yet,” Brien responded.
“I do! We’re here to read you your last rites before we arrest you for stealing that dog.” As Mick laughed at his joke, Willow made a beeline for Archie.
“Whew! That wasn’t as bad as I was afraid it would be. It was almost funny.” Mick roared as if Brien was joking.
“Stop teasing, Mick. That must be the dog Brien rescued—everyone’s been talking about it all day. He’s gorgeous.” Willow didn’t wait for me to respond before she squatted down to pet him. Archie had decided she was okay and moved closer. A little too fast, and Willow lost her balance. She landed on her behind, laughing, as Archie licked her face.
“Hey, take it easy,” Mick said and flew to her side. That was strange, but why the heck not? Strange was the name of the game as soon as the doorbell rang the first time.
“Archie,” I commanded. “Come. Sit.” Willow was still laughing as she took Mick’s hand and got up off the floor.
“Archie’s a cute name,” she said.
“I like it as a name for a kid, too, don’t you?” Mick asked Willow. She stammered as she responded.
“I guess so. Would his real name have to be Archibald? That’s kind of old school, isn’t it?” The discussion about names was over as soon as Mick found one of his favorites was on tonight’s dinner menu.
“Awesome! Fish tacos. Can you eat those?” Willow’s face flushed, but her eyes were bright.
“What is it?” I asked. “You’re not sick, are you?”
“No. We weren’t going to tell you until after dinner.” Then she grinned, from ear to ear. “We’re having a baby!”
“She’s having a baby. I’ve already done my part,” Mick added, smirking again.
“Hardly,” Bede responded under his breath.
“You’ve got that right. Being a dad is a tough job.” Both men had spun around on their barstools to face Mick.
“Mick knows that,” Willow said. “He’s not the blockhead he pretends to be around most people.”
He had me fooled. Brien didn’t seem convinced by Willow’s assertion either. Nor was this her first attempt to make u
s believe Mick had a deeper, more caring side to him. Still, I’ve had to work hard not to have Mitchum discount Brien and me as a couple of knuckleheads—his word, not mine.
“Let’s eat before the food gets cold,” I suggested. “Can I fix you a plate, Willow?”
“Heavens, no! I’m only in my first trimester. Maybe when I’m as big as a barrel, you can do that for me.” Willow is a waif, so I couldn’t imagine her ever being very big. Brien and Mick both stood aside so Willow could fix herself a plate of food. She usually ate like a bird but not tonight. “I’m eating for two now.”
“Will it spoil our appetites if you tell us why you came by, Detective? I’m really curious.” We all had our food, but I’d begun to worry again about running out.
“Well, it wasn’t that important.” His eyes darted around the room, settling on Mick. I took that to mean he wasn’t sold on Willow’s “he’s not a blockhead” assertion either.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, she’ll just tell us later,” Willow snapped. Bede laughed as Mitchum harrumphed into his bushy mustache.
“Mason’s penthouse suite is no crime scene. It was as clean as a whistle and housekeeping hadn’t been in there since yesterday.”
“When did a Do Not Disturb sign go onto the door?” I asked
“Yesterday afternoon, as far as we’ve been able to figure out,” Bernie replied. “When housekeeping went to the suite to do the turndown service, it was up.”
“No one saw who put it on the door?”
“No, but I called Al and asked him to get the surveillance video from that corridor. He’s going to try to get it to me before Monday.”
“I can download it when I get to work on Monday if you don’t already have it by then,” Brien offered and then asked a question before digging into another taco. “So, where are they?” Mick and Willow had seated themselves on the couch facing us. You’d believe they were watching a movie by the way their eyes tracked the action.
“That’s another thing I came here to tell you. There’s no sign of a struggle or any indication they were in a rush to get out of there. We don’t know where Dr. Mason or his wife have gone.” Then Mitchum looked at me. “As luck would have it, Deb Merritt—you know her, I believe—had already checked to see if there were any new missing person’s reports filed, or recent reports of assaults or abductions, and found nothing. No unidentified bodies in the morgue, either.” I shifted my weight from one foot to another as he continued to stare. I didn’t intend to mimic him, but when I realized how eerily similar my movements were to his, I stopped.
Radical Regatta! Page 5