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Authors: Waverly Curtis

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BOOK: The Silence of the Chihuahuas

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I thought back to what Dr Lieberman had said about a Situation. “Did she freak out or something?” I asked.

Frances shrugged. “If she did, we didn't hear nothing. Course they give us stuff to make us sleep through the night.”

“Men with guns,” said Greg in a somber voice.

“What?” Nicole looked at him with big eyes.

“What?” Frances stopped with a spoonful of applesauce halfway to her mouth.

“Men with guns,” said Greg. “They took her away.”

Pepe's Blog: If She Had Only Listened

My partner has been rendered dopey by the medicine she was given by the nurse. She was babbling about men with guns while she took me outside to, as she puts it, “do my business,” although how mere bodily functions could be equated with income producing activity I do not understand. As soon as we got back to the room, she fell onto the bed and started snoring away. And she did not even have the courtesy to bring me a scrap of the hamburger that was served for dinner. What is a dog to do?

I had to sneak out of the room when the night nurse came in to check on Geri and make my own way to the dining room where I found a stash of fresh carrots and cold French fries wrapped in a napkin tucked behind a cupboard. Not sufficient for a dog with a mission but it would have to do.

Once my hunger pains were somewhat eased, I sniffed around and caught the scent of the men who had taken Teri away. There were two of them and they had come in the back door. Someone else, a woman, perhaps another nurse for her shoes smelled of bleach though her sweat smelled of deception, walked with Teri from her room to the back door. That was where the trail ended for me, as I could not escape through the locked back door. Nor could I get back into Geri's room. So I did what any good detective would do. I went to interrogate the night nurse about the events of the prior evening and found her in the office at the front of the cottage, chuckling over a video about cats(!) she was watching on a computer screen. If only I had my beloved iPad with me.

But she refused to answer my questions. Instead she scolded me for making a racket and stuck me back in the room with my sedated partner. Sadly, my full belly inclined me to similar slumbers so I jumped up onto the bed and curled myself into Geri's arms. And the next thing I knew it was morning.

Chapter 19

I was startled awake by a piercing scream. And then the sound of a struggle. Judging by the dim light filtering through the window it was just before dawn. How could I have fallen asleep when both Amber and my sister were in jeopardy?

Pepe apparently felt the same way. He flew at the door, barking and scratching at it with his little claws, but, of course, that was ineffective. I tugged at the knob, but it was locked from the outside.

Pepe stopped suddenly and turned on me. “
Silencio!”
he said. “We must not let them know you are here.”

“What? Who?” I asked.

“Back!” he said, blocking me from the door with his little body. “Let me listen!”

I heard voices but I could not distinguish what they were saying. A male voice and a female one. It sounded like the woman was pleading for her life. I looked around wildly for a weapon but, of course, the room had been cleared of anything that could possibly be used as a weapon. All I had was a bright blue terrycloth bathrobe and a pair of fuzzy slippers. I slipped into the bathroom, thinking perhaps there was a water glass I could shatter and use as a weapon, but no, all I could find was a cup made of flimsy plastic like those you find in hotel rooms.

Pepe came running into the bathroom. “This is most serious, Geri,” he said. “The man wants to know where to find Teri Sullivan or Geri Sullivan. It is only a matter of time before the nurse breaks down and gives him the information he needs.”

“Do you think she knows where Teri is?” I asked eagerly.

“No, for certain, she does not. When she says so her voice is sincere. But,” he said with an ominous tone in his voice,” she does know where you are. Although she has not yet told him.”

“There must be something we can do,” I said, going back into the bedroom and looking around desperately. There was a button on the wall that said “Push in an Emergency.” I had only a moment to wonder what would happen. Would it light up in the downstairs office where the nurse was being assaulted? Or in the main building and bring some other staff running? Wouldn't the nurse have a similar button in her office and why hadn't she pushed it?

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

â¢ Sometimes a call of natureâor a diversionâcan be more productive than a direct interrogation.

BOOK: The Silence of the Chihuahuas

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