Dial C for Chihuahua

by Waverly Curtis

  “Well, then why don’t you head on over to Stewart’s office and ask him for it. Jimmy G. will give him a call and tell him you’re coming. Though come to think of it, Stewart might be a little upset when he sees you.”

  “Why would that be?”

  “Well, he called Jimmy G. and told Jimmy G. to fire you.”

  “What? That doesn’t make any sense. He asked me to fill out employment forms and told me he’d pay for my training!”

  “Stewart is like that. Probably decided he couldn’t afford it.”

  “This is ridiculous!” I said. “I’m going to go talk to him myself.”

  Chapter 36

  No one responded when I rang the doorbell at Stewart’s castle. I rang it again and again.

  “Geri, let us reconnoiter,” Pepe suggested. He darted off, running around the left side of the house. I followed him down a narrow path of stepping stones. It meandered around the carefully shaped juniper hedges, passed beneath banks of mullioned windows, and ended at the stone terrace outside Stewart’s office. Gray clouds were rolling in from the south, carried by a brisk wind.

  The windows of Stewart’s office were finished with some sort of anti-glare product that made it impossible to see inside. So I continued around to the other side of the house and peered in the window of Mandy’s office. She was there, at her desk, feeding papers into a shredder. A cardboard box full of shredded paper stood on the floor beside her and there was a stack of folders on her desk. I tapped on the window and she jumped.

  Then she waved me over to the rear door, which was located between her office and Stewart’s office. She was wearing what I thought of as a sexy secretary outfit—a crisp white linen blouse, a short black skirt, and black high heels. A gold pen was stuck into her dark hair, which had been pulled back into a chignon.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “I rang the front door bell,” I said. “No one answered.”

  “We’re busy,” she said.

  “Look, I just came to drop off those papers you wanted,” I said. I had the completed employment forms in my bag.

  She glared at Pepe who was standing by my feet.

  “Well, you can’t bring that animal in here!” she said. “You know, Stewart is terribly allergic.”

  She glanced at the door to Stewart’s office. It was closed, but it was clear she felt his presence anyway.

  “Fine,” I said. “He can stay out here.”

  I looked at Pepe. “Stay close to the house,” I said. “I don’t want a hawk carrying you off.”

  “I have been in that situation before,” Pepe said. “I was able to escape by telling the bird a story that so distracted her—”

  “Just get under the furniture,” I said. I didn’t have time to listen to another of his fantastic stories.

  I pointed at the two striped lounge chairs that were on the terrace, each facing the spectacular view of the lake. Reluctantly, slowly, Pepe did as I requested, inching along until he was hunched beneath one of the chairs. I could see his dark eyes glowering out at me. He was not a happy dog.

  I followed Mandy into her office. She waved me to a chair and looked over the papers I handed her. “I need to see your passport or else your driver’s license and some other form of identification, like a Social Security card,” she said. “The federal government requires me to make sure you are a U.S. citizen.”

  “Look, I just need to know what’s going on,” I said. “Jimmy G. told me that Stewart wants to fire me. So why are you bothering with the paper work?”

  Mandy pursed up her lips and pointed a finger at her head, waving it in circles. “Jimmy G. is loco. Haven’t you figured that out by now?”

  “So, Stewart didn’t tell him to fire me?”

  “Of course not.” Mandy studied my resume. “You’re an interior decorator?” I didn’t like the tone of incredulity in her voice but I ignored it.

  “Yes,” I said, “though mainly I specialize in staging.”

  “I might have some work for you,” Mandy said.

  “Really? Are you selling a house?”

  “No. But Stewart wants to redo this place. He wants something more modern that will appeal to our international clients.” She set the resume down on her desk. “I’d love to get your opinion.”

  This was amazing. Perhaps I should consider Pepe my good-luck charm. I had been offered three jobs in the five days since had I adopted him. Of course, I hadn’t yet been paid for most of them.

  “Do you think Stewart will be able to pay me?” I asked. “Jimmy G. sent me over here because he said he’s short on cash.”

  “I don’t see why not,” said Mandy. “We can give you a deposit or a retainer, or whatever you call it in your line of work.”

  “Great!” I said. “How do you want to proceed?”

  “Let’s start with Stewart’s office.”

  “Won’t that disturb Stewart?’

  “Oh, he’s not here. He’s meeting with a new investor.” She led me across the wide hallway and threw open the door.

  As I looked around, I noticed the top of Stewart’s massive oak desk was completely bare. It certainly didn’t look like he was analyzing David Tyler’s financial records.

  “Did he finish up the work he was doing for Rebecca?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Mandy said. “It only took him a few hours.”

  “Really? I thought David Tyler had a lot of investments.”

  “Stewart is really good at what he does,” Mandy said. She put her hands on her hips. “What do you think? Get rid of the books?”

  “Yes,” I said. “We can certainly make this room look lighter and brighter. Take out the Persian rug—it looks like there’s a nice hardwood floor underneath. And bring in a few pieces of more modern furniture, perhaps some white leather chairs, a desk with a glass top, something with some sleek lines.”

  “I like it!” Mandy clapped her hands. “Let’s go upstairs.”

  “Did Stewart find the money Rebecca needed for her show?” I asked as we headed up the stairs.

  “Oh, yes, he found the money all right,” Mandy said. “But he told her it was in an offshore account and he can’t touch it. He doesn’t want her to invest in that stupid show. It’s going to be a disaster.”

  “That sounds unethical to me.”

  “Stewart is just trying to be loyal to his friend. That’s what David would have wanted.”

  We stood at the threshold of the great room. The house was as silent as the tomb. No sounds from outside penetrated those thick walls. The light was fading from the sky and the great room was full of shadows.

  “But what about what Rebecca wants?”

  “Who cares?”

  “You don’t seem very sympathetic!” I said.

  “I can’t stand that woman!”

  “You know Rebecca?”

  “Yes, I used to work for her! She was a total bitch!”

  “What? You worked for Jimmy G. You work for Stewart. And you used to work for Rebecca?”

  “Well, yes,” said Mandy. She seemed annoyed. “I don’t know why you’re so interested in my work history.”

  “It just seems odd,” I said.

  “Not really. I mean, they all know each other.” She moved into the middle of the room. “What do you think we should do with this room?”

  “Well, you need to make this room feel friendly and open. Get rid of all the sofas—”

  “Oh, that won’t be a problem” said Mandy. “They’re all leased anyway.”

  “Is Stewart still going to use this room for talking to clients?”

  “Yes, but he doesn’t need to do the lectures anymore to groups. He’s going for bigger fish now, and he only needs one or two people at the levels he’s reaching. So if he’s hanging out in this space with clients, it will be more social—drinks, conversation, maybe some catered appetizers being passed.”

  “Well, we can create different furniture groupings so there are places for people to sit and
talk, and also room to mix and mingle. I can bring some fabric swatches and some pictures clipped out of magazines for you to show to Stewart. I think the biggest issue will be the vertical space.” I looked up at the dark heavy beams looming over our heads and the shadows above them. “Maybe some big light fixtures hanging from the ceiling. I know a designer who makes custom light fixtures out of white paper. They look very Japanese.”

  “Stewart does have a few Japanese clients,” said Mandy. She sighed and went over to the window. I joined her and we stood there for a few minutes, looking out over the waters of the lake. We could see the glowing red taillights of the cars flowing across the Floating Bridge on their way to Bellevue.

  “What did you do for Rebecca?’ I asked.

  “I was her dog dancer,” Mandy said. “Until she fired me because she thought her husband was getting interested in me. She has a problem with jealousy.”

  “You knew David Tyler, too?”

  “Of course.” Her voice was soft.

  “And was he interested in you?”

  She turned to me, her dark eyes flashing. “You’ve got to be kidding! David was like a father to me. He was a kind man. He took an interest in my future. He paid for my college education.”

  “So this must have been hard on you.”

  “You have no idea!” she said, and I thought I could see tears in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s OK. I’ve gotten used to it.”

  “Who do you think murdered him?”

  “Probably a botched robbery,” Mandy said. “I think David was alone in the house, and he heard a sound. He went to get Rebecca’s gun—she kept one in her bedroom—and then went downstairs to investigate.” Her voice was gathering passion as she sketched out this scenario. “He must have confronted the robber, they struggled over the gun—David was such a geek, he wouldn’t have known what to do with a gun—and then the gun went off.”

  “If it was a robbery, then why was nothing taken?”

  “I imagine the robber ran off horrified at the realization he had killed someone!”

  And suddenly she was sobbing. I put my arms around her. She wasn’t the easiest person to hug. She was stiff and tense and wouldn’t accept the comfort I offered. I finally settled for patting her on the back as she bent over, almost double, gasping out tiny little sobs. It was quite pathetic.

  I heard shouting and wild barking from down below.

  “Oh my God!” I said. “Pepe! I forgot all about him.”

  I raced down the stairs and flung the rear door open. Mandy was close behind me.

  Out on the terrace, Stewart was turning around in circles, trying to bash Pepe with his briefcase. Pepe was snarling and growling and making forays at Stewart’s ankles. Stewart kicked out at him but missed. Pepe was too fast. He darted behind Stewart’s back and made a lunge for his Achilles tendon. Stewart went down, almost falling on Pepe.

  “What are you doing?” I shouted. I wasn’t sure if I was yelling at Stewart or Pepe.

  “Get this beast away from me!” Stewart screamed.

  I grabbed Pepe up and held him close. “That’s our boss,” I whispered to him. “Why are you attacking him?”

  “He smells bad,” said Pepe.

  Mandy went by, rushing to Stewart’s assistance. She held out her hand and hauled him to his feet. Stewart sneezed.

  “Did you still want to talk about the decorating?” I asked as they went by.

  “Can’t you see this isn’t a good time!” she snapped.

  Stewart sneezed again and then howled in pain as the sneeze apparently triggered a back spasm. He clutched at Mandy and they continued on their lurching way to the door.

  “I’ll bring by some sketches and an estimate,” I said.

  “Yes, why don’t you do that?” It was hard to tell from her clipped tones if she was trying to encourage me or being sarcastic.

  Stewart limped his way into the office, while she supported him by the shoulders.

  “What about the money that Jimmy G. promised me?” I called out.

  There was no response to that. Just the snick as the door shut behind them.

  Pepe kept sneezing and shivering. “The stink!” he said.

  “What stink?”

  “Look!” said Pepe. “There under the lounger.” He gave another mighty sneeze.

  I looked and saw a gold object glittering in the sun. I pulled it out and held it up. It was a gold pen, engraved with the initials DPT.

  “And it is covered with the scent of Caprice!” Pepe said. “Caprice and the scent of murder!”

  Chapter 37

  “Why are you not calling the policía on Mandy?” Pepe asked as I headed towards my car, with Pepe safely tucked into my purse.

  “For the umpteenth time,” I told him, “Mandy using Caprice isn’t really proof of anything. There are probably hundreds of women in Seattle who wear the same perfume.”

  “That may be so,” he said. “But I have a gut feeling about this.”

  “You sound like some TV detective.”

  “Gracias,” he said, as usual not getting my sarcasm. “It would be too much of a coincidence that Mandy wears the same perfume. We private investigators do not trust coincidence.”

  “What if it was Stewart who wears Caprice?”

  “Now that is an interesting possibility, Geri. Anything is possible in Seattle.”

  “Or perhaps Stewart was with the mystery woman who was running away with David and got her perfume on his hands or on his clothes,” I pointed out. “Assuming there is a mystery woman.”

  “Another possibility, Geri,” said Pepe. “But again, why are we not doing something about it?”

  “Like what? You want me to go to the police and tell them that my dog recognized a certain perfume on a certain person, and he has a gut feeling that they’re guilty of murder?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” It wasn’t like I didn’t share his feelings about the situation; it was just that I recognized our limitations. And maybe that was it, I thought—he was a dog and I wasn’t. Dogs always act like they have no limitations. Especially Chihuahuas.

  Just as we reached the car, Pepe gave a little yelp. “There is something vibrating under my butt!”

  “Oh,” I said. “It’s my cell phone. I put it on vibrate when we arrived.”

  “Answer it already,” he said. “Either that or rub it against my back. I could use a good massage.”

  I opened my car door and dumped him out, along with the contents of my purse. I was afraid the phone would go to voice mail, so I didn’t bother to check the screen to see who was calling. As soon as I heard the voice, I regretted that decision. It was my ex, Jeff.

  “Geri,” he said. “I’ve got to talk to you.”

  “You got me,” I said. “Talk away.”

  “Hold on a minute,” he said. The line went silent as he put me on hold.

  That was typical of Jeff. His needs always came first.

  I was about to hang up when he came back on.

  “So how soon can you get here?”

  “Why would I come see you?”

  “I’ve got something important to discuss with you, and I don’t want to talk about it on the phone.”

  Oh, really. “Why not?” I asked.

  “Look, I can’t talk right now. I’m late for a meeting. Can you come to my office?”

  “I’m busy, too.”

  “It will only take a few minutes.”

  And then he was gone. He hadn’t even waited for me to reply. He just assumed I would come running when he called. And to tell the truth, he was right. The suggestion that he had something so important to tell me that he had to speak to me in person intrigued me.

  He had told me he had fallen in love with someone else on the telephone. And he informed me he was getting married via e-mail. So I couldn’t imagine what was so important that he needed to speak to me in person. But I was going to find out.
I got in the car and headed for Bellevue.

  Jeff’s office was in one of the new high-rises in downtown Bellevue, a quick trip across the lake. Pepe quivered in my purse as the elevator gave us a stomach-dropping ride to the twenty-fifth floor.

  “If this is what it is like to be an astronaut,” he said, “I will take it off my to-do list.”

  You knew you were out of your price range as soon as you got off the elevator. The wide hallway was covered with the best wool carpet money could buy. The walls were paneled in rich, inlaid burl veneers. And everywhere you looked, you saw shiny brass fittings—moldings, picture frames, door handles, and lighting fixtures.

  Jeff’s company took up half of the entire floor. You gained entry through a pair of double-wide, opaque glass doors, beside which an engraved brass plaque displayed the company name:

  BECKWORTH & TROUT

  —INSURANCE UNDERWRITERS—

  LIFE & CASUALTY/COMMERCIAL & MARINE.

  Jeff had done well with the MBA I had paid for. Made upper-level management in his first year with the company. Was slated to go even higher. He had a corner office with a view out across Lake Washington.

  His new secretary, the one who had replaced Amber, ushered us into his office. Kathy was a sour-faced, middle-aged woman with frizzy hair, buckteeth, and a leathery complexion. (I was pretty sure Amber had picked her out.) Kathy ushered us into Jeff’s office and left us sitting on the brown leather sofa, facing Jeff’s imposing desk of burnished cherry wood. Jeff was nowhere to be seen, of course. “In a meeting,” she told us. “He’ll be with you shortly.”

  I sat there, looking at his framed diploma on the wall, the one he had earned while I slaved away at the waste disposal plant, and told myself, Geri, you shouldn’t feel envious or bitter. After all, Jeff has nothing but success, a beautiful house on the Eastside, a big salary, a fancy sports car, and a beautiful (if vapid) fiancée. You have . . . well, a talking dog.

  As if reading my mind, Pepe said, “Geri, your ex-mate seems to have done very well for himself. He has a handsome car, a glamorous girlfriend, and it appears from this office, an important position. But he does not have, well, me.”