The Silence of the Chihuahuas

by Waverly Curtis

  I pushed the button repeatedly.

  The sound of the argument escalated. The nurse was shrieking. The man was shouting. And then the air was split by a horrible howl, followed by a scream of agony, followed by a wailing, keening sound. And then all was silence.

  I had never felt so helpless in all my life. I darted over to the window and tugged on it, but it wouldn’t budge farther than an inch. But that inch might be enough to send Pepe for aid. “Do you think you can get out?” I asked him.

  “Indeed, I am designed for just such an occasion,” he said, eagerly jumping up into my outstretched hands. But just as I was about to shove him through the crack, we saw several people with flashlights approaching the cottage. Surely we were about to be rescued. I hugged Pepe close, cradling him in my arms, hoping the staff would arrive in time to save me.

  I could hear loud voices in the cottage. Then the thump of footsteps. Someone pounded on my door.

  “Who is it?” I asked in a squeaky voice. The door knob rattled.

  “We’ll come back for you later,” the voice said and went away.

  “All clear!” I heard someone say.

  “The police are on their way,” I heard someone else say.

  Looking out the window, I could see a crowd gathering around the cottage. Several men in suits. Several employees in the blue polo shirts. A nurse or two in pale blue scrubs. A doctor in a long white coat. An emergency vehicle with flashing red lights pulled up onto the grass and some dark-blue clad EMTs clattered into the building.

  A short time later, Dr. Lieberman appeared in my doorway.

  “Oh, good,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “You’re safe.” He shook his head. “But we’ve got to get you out of here. You’re a liability to our safe operation and you apparently gained entrance here by falsifying your condition.”

  “I falsified nothing!” I said indignantly. “I do hear my dog talking to me.”

  I looked at Pepe, but he said nothing.

  “You are actually a private detective who is trying to find Teri Sullivan,” he said. “By pretending to be her sister.”

  “I am her sister!” I said.

  “We don’t have a Teri Sullivan here, and,” he lowered his voice, “if we did, she would no longer be here but someplace far safer.”

  “Is that a hint?” I asked desperately.

  “I’m not at liberty to reveal anything,” he said primly. “I’m here to deliver you to the police. They want to take a statement.”

  “What happened downstairs?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  I shuffled downstairs in my fuzzy blue bathrobe and slippers with Pepe in my arms. He was shivering, poor little guy. I thought at first it was due to the traumatic events of the night but soon remembered that he hates the police.

  A young woman in pale blue scrubs was sitting on the sofa talking to a policeman who sat beside her taking notes on a notepad. “He saved me, for sure! That guy was going to kill me.”

  As I passed the office, I saw that it had been trashed. There were papers all over the floors, blood splashed on the walls and a chair overturned.

  “What happened?” I asked Dr. Lieberman again.

  “We’re still trying to figure that out,” he said. He gripped me by the elbow and steered me out the front door.

  “Geri!” said Pepe. His nose was twitching rapidly. “Look!”

  I looked and saw a man in handcuffs beside a police officer who kept a wary eye on him. He was naked, although he had a blanket wrapped loosely around him. He must be the crazy guy who was supposed to be locked in his room, the one Nicole thought was a werewolf. He had long blond hair which flopped over his face. As we passed by, he looked up, and I saw, to my shock, that I knew him.

  “Brad!”

  “Do you know this man?” Dr. Lieberman brought me to a halt. That gave me a chance to look Brad over thoroughly. He was covered with blood and I could see a long scratch on his arm. He had light blond stubble on his chin and his hair was matted. I had never seen my business partner naked or unshaven or with his hair uncombed. But still there was no doubt. Brad was the werewolf of Serenity.

  “Sure. That’s my business partner, Brad Best,” I said, peering at him closely. “Don’t you know his name?”

  Brad got a wild and fearful look in his eyes. He shook his head and held one finger up to his lips. His wrists were encircled by handcuffs.

  “No,” snapped Dr. Lieberman, “and he wouldn’t tell us.”

  “But surely the police . . .” I looked at the blue-clad officer guarding Brad.

  “They couldn’t get any information out of him when they found him wandering around Volunteer Park, naked and covered with blood. They thought maybe he was the victim of a hate crime. He was transported to Harborview for evaluation and then they shipped him over here,” said Dr. Lieberman, hustling me past him. “Maybe they’ll do a little more investigation now.”

  “Did he attack the nurse?” I asked, shuddering. Maybe Brad really had killed Mrs. Fairchild, and then gone mad with guilt.

  “No.” Lieberman was thoughtful. “Actually he saved her life. An intruder had entered the cottage and was threatening to kill her.” He pointed toward the aide car with the flashing lights. I could see a large body on the gurney inside.

  “Do we know who that was?” I asked. “Or why he was here?”

  “The police have not yet been able to identify him,” said Dr. Lieberman, hustling me down the path. “He has no ID and he’s unconscious. Serious head wound. But we do know why he was here.”

  He pushed me down the path towards the main building. It was much colder out here in the country than in the city. I shivered in the chilly night air and quickened my steps.

  “Geri, can you let me down for a minute?” asked Pepe.

  “Sure,” I said, “but why?”

  “He was trying to get to you,” Dr. Lieberman said in a stern voice.

  “A call of nature,” Pepe replied. I realized he had not been outside for many hours.

  “Of course,” I said. I lowered Pepe to the ground and he went scampering off towards the nearest tree, which was just barely visible in the darkness. The paths were illuminated with lights set about two inches above the ground, but the rest of the grounds were full of shadows. Here and there, I saw the lights on in distant cottages.

  “What do you mean he was trying to get to me?” I asked.

  “According to the nurse, he told her that he would shoot her unless she turned you over to him.”

  I shuddered.

  “That’s when your friend intervened. We still don’t know how he got out of his room. He was locked in for his own safety and the safety of others in the cottage.”

  Dr. Lieberman hustled me along and we soon approached the back door of the main building. Pepe was nowhere in sight.

  “I can’t go anywhere without my dog,” I said.

  “We’re not waiting around for him,” said Dr. Lieberman. He entered a code on the numeric pad by the back door. A green light flashed and he turned the handle. “He’s caused quite enough trouble as it is.”

  There was a man waiting in the corridor on the other side. He did not wear a uniform. He did not wear a bright blue polo shirt. Instead he was dressed in a dark suit. I could tell by the way his suit jacket flared out over one hip that he was packing a gun.

  “Here she is,” said Dr. Lieberman. “Get her off my property. She’s done enough damage.”

  Pepe’s Blog: Where There Is One Villain . . .

  I was taking some private time to mark my territory and leave aromatic clues for the luscious poodle bitch about my whereabouts when I spotted a shadowy figure lurking in the trees along the river bank. I recalled one of the chief principles of private detection: where there is one villain, there is likely to be another.

  I recognized the smell of the intruder as soon as I got within three feet of him. It was one of the men who had been in the home of Party Girl and Amber. He had
a shaved head and a tattoo on his neck. He carried a pistola loosely in his left hand and was talking in a low mutter on a cell phone he clutched in his other hand. He was sweating up a storm, terror and adrenaline racing through his system. Also, I detected a faint whiff of pulled pork tacos. How I longed for one myself!

  “Yes, boss,” he muttered. “They got him! I don’t know how. They’re taking him off in an ambulance.” He shifted uneasily. “The girl? She’s still here somewhere.” Another pause. “But the place is crawling with cops.”

  His terror increased by about a hundredfold. “Yes, I do understand. Yes, you made it perfectly clear. Yes, next time you see me I’ll have the bitch with me.”

  Somehow I knew he was not talking about the poodle bitch. He was talking about my partner, Geri. And I needed to warn her. I took off like a shot of greased lightning, running, running for the main building that I had seen her enter with the white-clad doctor.

  Tip

  • Sometimes a call of nature—or a diversion—can be more productive than a direct interrogation.

  Chapter 20

  “Don’t worry, Doc,” said the man, his voice gruff. “I’m going to have a serious conversation with Miss Sullivan.”

  “Conversation?” Lieberman sounded exasperated. “You better have more than a conversation with her. I’ve cooperated with you. I expect some cooperation in return.”

  “Like I said, Doc, no worries.”

  Lieberman frowned, shook his head, and stalked off.

  I studied the man for a moment. Somewhere in his mid-forties, he had salt and pepper hair cut in an old-fashioned crew-cut, and was more than six feet tall, with a stocky build.

  “Who are you?” I asked him.

  “U. S. Marshall,” he told me, opening his coat a bit, to reveal a shiny badge clipped to his belt next to his holstered pistol.

  “A Marshall? Why are you—”

  “Your sister. Teri Sullivan.”

  “Teri? Why—”

  “Look, here’s how it lays out, short and sweet. You need to keep your nose out of this. Your sister’s under our protection. She’s a material witness in a trial against a crime boss. Trial’s coming up in a couple of days. She was safe and secure here until you started meddling.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We think you were followed here to Forest Glen, Miss Sullivan. There was an attempt to break into the cottage where your sister was staying. We had to move her immediately. These are career criminals who are after her. We’ve been working to take them down for years. And we finally have a chance. But they’ll stop at nothing to keep her from talking. So lay off. Got it?”

  “Can I talk to Teri at least?”

  “You don’t know when to stop, do you? The less you know, the better. If you persist in looking for your sister, I’ll put you in protective custody, too, until this is all over. And not a word about this to anyone else.”

  “OK, OK,” I said. “I understand.”

  “Good.” He smiled for the first time. “Bear in mind, you’re very likely in danger yourself.”

  I thought about Amber and knew he was right.

  “Speaking of that,” I said, “you might want to know about the kidnapping.”

  “Kidnapping?”

  “Yes, my ex-husband’s runaway bride, Amber Trout.”

  “Hold on!” said the Marshall, putting his hand up, palm out. “Tell me the whole story from the beginning.”

  So I tried to explain. He didn’t seem to get the part about the man and the fish and the bicycle but that was OK. He did get the gist of it.

  “So you said the Bellevue police have been notified?”

  “I think so,” I said. “I left to try to find Teri and ended up being admitted and then tranquilized and—”

  The Marshall cut me off. “How did they contact you to make the ransom demand?”

  ‘My cell phone,” I said.

  “I’m going to need that!” he said. “Have they called again?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, horror-stricken. “I had to give up my cell phone when they admitted me here.”

  Luckily, Lacey who was at the front desk got permission from Dr. Lieberman to return my personal belongings. The cell phone was locked in a drawer in the reception area. Lacey had to send over to Serenity to have them bring the rest of my belongings.

  The phone started ringing as soon as I turned it on. It was Felix. In fact, he had called more than twenty times. But there were no calls from unknown numbers.

  “I’ve got to get this,” I told the Marshall.

  “Geri!” Felix’s voice was frantic. “Where are you? What happened to you? I’ve been calling all night. I was about to report you missing.”

  I sighed. It was nice to know that someone missed me.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I ended up getting admitted to a psychiatric clinic and they wouldn’t let me use my phone. Will you come and get me?”

  Felix’s voice was dubious. “They let you go? Already?”

  “Hey,” I said, trying to keep my voice light, “It’s not like I’m crazy or anything.”

  I saw Lacey’s eyebrows go up at that.

  “Where are you?” he said.

  “Forest Glen.” I gave him the address and some general instructions about how to find the place.

  “I’ll leave right away,” he promised. I breathed a sigh of relief. Felix to the rescue! Now all I had to do was get dressed and find my dog.

  The Marshall took my phone with a stern warning that I was not to further involve myself in what was turning out to be a Federal case. I tried to follow him out the door so I could look for Pepe, but Lacey stopped me.

  “You can’t leave until you have your final interview,” she said. She sent me upstairs to talk to Dr. Lieberman. He was sorting some papers in a file on his desk when I entered.

  He looked up. “You’re no longer a patient here, Miss Sullivan, so I shouldn’t be giving you advice, but I want to let you know that in my professional opinion, your dog is the focus of your psychological issues. You might want to consider getting rid of him.”

  “Getting rid of Pepe? That’s unthinkable.”

  Lieberman shook his head. “I don’t think you’ll ever get better until you lose the dog,” he said. “You have an unhealthy attachment to him.”

  “Well, he’s lost now, and I want him back.” I said.

  Lieberman shrugged. “You’re free to go. We can’t hold you against your will. Of course, you’ll receive a bill for the services we provided while you were here.” He went over to the file cabinet and pulled out some papers. “I’m going to fill out your discharge papers. I’ll bring them down to the reception desk for you to sign.”

  I headed back to the reception desk to get my personal belongings from Lacey. She handed me a plastic bag with my name written across it with a Sharpie. I peeked inside and saw the rumpled, stained wedding dress.

  “I can’t wear this,” I said.

  Lacey shrugged. “Our monogrammed bathrobes are available for purchase. We can add the cost to your bill. They’re only $99.”

  “Never mind,” I said, thinking I would not want to be caught dead in a bright-blue terrycloth bathrobe that reminded me of my stay at Forest Glen. “I’ll put on the wedding dress. Where can I change?”

  Lacey pointed down the hall toward the wing that contained the spa. Clutching my purse in one hand and the wedding dress in the other, I scurried down the hall, opening several doors. Sauna. Steam room. Isolation Tank. Where was the bathroom? Although I supposed I could use any of the rooms to change. They were all empty at this early hour of the day.

  I ducked inside the room containing the isolation tank, shrugged off the blue bathrobe and wriggled into the soggy, smelly wedding dress. I looked for my black heels, but they weren’t in the bag.

  Clutching my belongings, I was heading back to the reception desk when I heard a gunshot, the sound of breaking glass, a scream. Then loud voices.

  “Where i
s she?” A deep male voice.

  Then Dr. Lieberman’s voice. “Who are you and what do you think you are doing?”

  “I’m looking for Geri Sullivan,” said the first voice.

  “How dare you! Get out of here!” said Lieberman. It was nice that he was standing up for me.

  But then I heard a grunt and a shriek and a thud. What was happening now? Had the intruder killed Dr. Lieberman? Knocked him over the head?

  “Where is she?” It was the first voice again, the gruff voice.

  “I don’t know,” squeaked Lacey. “Please don’t hurt me!”

  “Is she in the building?”

  “She was here,” Lacey squeaked, “but she left.” Nice that she was standing up for me too.

  “Show me where she went!” commanded the man.

  Lacey gave a little shriek that was cut off abruptly.

  The next thing I knew I heard footsteps coming in my direction. A heavy tread and a shuffling noise, like maybe a body was being dragged.

  I ducked back into the isolation tank room and looked for a place to hide. But the only thing in the room was the isolation tank. It was a long box. It almost reminded me of a coffin, except that it was made of white plastic. A sign above it read: ATTENDANT MUST BE PRESENT AT ALL TIMES. How I wished there was an attendant.

  The cover of the tank was angled upward to reveal a slanted opening through which I could see about three feet of water. I jumped in, clutching my two plastic bags. The water was warm, just about skin temperature.

  I heard doors being flung open in the hall. I pulled the lid to the isolation tank shut. Darkness. Darkness and warmth. I didn’t want to lie down in the water—I felt too vulnerable—but the shape of the thing made it impossible for me to crouch near the back as I wished, just in case the man who was searching for me thought to open the lid of the tank. I put the plastic bag on my stomach and floated. I felt strangely at peace, even though my dog was missing and someone who wanted to kill me was only a few inches away. I couldn’t hear anything. Just a soothing, thumping sound that I eventually realized was the beating of my heart.