(n) a horrible, bossy, terrible person; a Gorilla
Tormentor
(n) vertical drapes that mask the wings at each side of the stage
(n) the Diva and her Devotees
Trap door
(n) an opening in the floor of the stage used for appearance and disappearance effects
(n) what I need when I put my foot in my mouth
Sneak Peak!
THE DISAPPEARING DOG DILEMMA
(The Gabby St. Claire Diaries, Book 2)
By Christy Barritt
and Kathy Applebee
CHAPTER 1
When my mom had said pet sitting would take up a half an hour in the morning and half an hour in the evening, she hadn’t factored in the time it took to get to my “client’s” homes. It was less than a five minute trip by car. In the wintry air with the sun going down, walking seemed to take half a day. By the time I arrived, I was a shuffling iceberg complete with a drippy nose.
I jammed the key into the lock so hard that my hand slipped and smacked into the side of the door.
Ouch!
As I sucked on my bruised knuckle, I wondered why Felix, an adorable little Chihuahua, wasn’t scratching at the door and whining. He had been dying to see me this morning, assaulting me with doggie kisses from the moment I’d stepped inside.
A horrible thought crossed my mind.
Not another missing dog!
I threw the door open and dashed inside. I paused in the tiled entry. Still no Felix. Where could he be? My gaze swerved to the formal living room, the dining room. Finally, I propelled myself through the house and reached the den, where I skidded to a halt.
In the den, a homeless man lounged on the couch, scratching Felix’s ears.
I recoiled involuntarily, my brain trying to make sense of what my eyes were seeing. My backward motion sent one foot sliding on the throw rug that I’d forgotten to move back into place this morning because I was running late.
Thump!
I landed hard on the doormat on the porch, skinning an elbow. I scrambled to get up but was torn between lingering ever so briefly to shut the door and keep Felix from escaping and just running for my life. My indecisiveness cost me. Felix was out the door in a flash.
I ran—both to catch Felix and to escape from the unexpected stranger.
I have to remember what he looked like to tell the police.
Long, dark hair. Unkempt. Scruffy, dark beard. Army green jacket and dirty jean cut offs. Bandaged foot and leg on a pillow.
Whoa! Bandaged foot?
I slowed and whirled. No one chased after me and for good reason. The man was a cripple or hurt or something.
The sound of an oncoming vehicle interrupted my agitated mind. Felix was prancing in the road, directly in the path of the oncoming car. I waved and shouted to get the driver’s attention as I sprinted down the middle of the street.
Just in the nick of time, I scooped up the excited little dog. The annoyed driver honked and barely slowing down, so I leapt to the curb opposite the Wrangley’s house.
“Ever heard of a leash law?” snarled the driver.
He punched the accelerator and sped away.
Felix licked my hands and wiggled. The Chihuahua gave a couple of sharp barks and tried to climb up my jacket to wash my face.
“Shush!” I commanded.
I surveyed both sides of the street for someone, anyone. I needed to call the police and report the break in. I thought about flagging down a car, but the only one in sight was the one with the irritated driver and he was making good time down the street.
My heart was still beating hard, but the initial shock of the strange man, escaped dog, and homicidal driver was wearing off.
“We’re just going to have to get the corner store and have them place a 911 call,” I confided to the dog and broke into a jog.
“Hey, I’ll call the cops if you try to dognap Felix,” shouted a rough voice behind me. Still jogging, I spared a backward glance. “With that red hair you’ll be easy to pick out of a line up.”
How does he know Felix’s name?
I stopped and turned. “Who are you and how did you get in to the Wrangley’s place? How do you know this is Felix?”
The fact that Felix had been sitting on the man’s lap while inside the house finally registered, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Maybe this was some homeless guy the Wrangleys gave handouts to and, when they hadn’t answered the door for the last couple days, he’d been casing the joint and . . .
“I could ask you the same thing.” The man leaned on a cane and stood awkwardly in the doorway.
“I happen to be the pet sitter, that’s who. And I have a key.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized I didn’t have the key. It, along with my flip-flop key ring and my own house key, were still dangling on the other side of the door.
I have to get those keys. Otherwise he might find our house and . . .
I swallowed. I started to perspire and, since the March weather was still lion-like, I knew it was fear that pulled the moisture from my body. A gust of the wind tugged at my hair. Felix whined and tried to claw his way out of my grip.
What should I do? Was the intruder linked to the three other missing dogs? Why did I ever take this job?
About the Authors:
Kathy Applebee:
Kathy Applebee is an author, playwright and Virginia’s 2011 Middle School Science Teacher of the Year (according to the Virginia Association of Science Teachers). She is a frequent contributor to PLAYS, the Drama Magazine for Young People and Fools For Christ. When she’s not writing, teaching or directing plays, she can be seen on various stages in Virginia Beach, Virginia. Her favorite roles to date include the Wicked Witch of the West, Ouiser (Steel Magnolias) and Lady Macbeth.
Christy Barritt:
USA Today has called Christy Barritt's books “scary, funny, passionate, and quirky.” Christy writes both mystery and romantic suspense novels that are clean with underlying messages of faith. Her books have won the Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Suspense and Mystery, have been twice nominated for the Romantic Times' Reviewers' Choice Award, and have finaled for both a Carol Award and Foreword Magazine's Book of the Year. She's married to her Prince Charming, a man who thinks she's hilarious—but only when she's not trying to be. Christy's a self-proclaimed klutz, an avid music lover who's known for spontaneously bursting into song, and a road trip aficionado. For more information, visit her website at: www.christybarritt.com.
The Curtain Call Caper (The Gabby St. Claire Diaries) Page 12