Girl's Best Friend (14 page)

Chapter 25

♦     ♦     ♦

As I lay in bed that night, I thought about Isabel’s life and how it linked to mine in ways I’d never before realized. If she’d found her money fifteen years ago, or if John hadn’t taken it from her in the first place, she never would’ve had to divide her brownstone into four apartments.

That meant my family wouldn’t live here. We’d be in some other building—probably far from Garfield Place—and my life would be completely different. I’d never have known Isabel, or Preston, either. And with no dog to walk, Parminder never would’ve mistaken me for a dog walker.

Which meant I never would have become a dog walker. I’d just be plain old Maggie Brooklyn—a twin with a not-so-secret crush, three great friends, and one frenemy.

Or maybe not even that. My parents might have moved to an entirely different neighborhood. Then I’d never have even known Ivy or any of my real friends.

It was crazy to think about how much of what really mattered—all the important stuff—kind of happened at random.

My life as a giant Connect the Dots, a picture in perpetual motion.

But Isabel
had
rented my family an apartment and here I was, wasting time marveling over what could’ve been and not coming any closer to finding Kermit.

I walked my dogs as usual over the next couple of days, and I noticed some ominous new signs around the neighborhood. A yellow Lab puppy was taken from outside the Tea Lounge on Union Street. Someone stole a Rhodesian ridgeback from the corner of Fifth Avenue and Second Street.

Meanwhile, the days were getting shorter. All the telltale hints of summer—joggers in tank tops, sunbathers on the Long Meadow, kids tearing through sprinklers—had disappeared. Tank top by tank top. Blanket by blanket. Splash by splash … 

Even the dog beach got less popular—something that seemed eerily foreboding but was probably just a sign of the season. Still, it left me feeling prickly. Restless, too.

Something had to be done—soon.

Discovering the secret passageway in our building, decoding John’s note, and tracking down Isabel’s life savings—it made me realize something. I’d already solved a bunch of mysteries without even trying very hard.

That meant I could track down Kermit, too. All I had to do was work harder. Somehow flip the metaphorical switch in my brain from stalled to overdrive. I started by making a list of what I already knew.

1) Milo is innocent. Kind of. He doesn’t know anything about Kermit, anyway.

2) Jane might be guilty, but if so, she isn’t working alone.

3) Dr. Reese tried to operate on Preston for no real reason.

4) Beckett’s dog, Cookie, died in surgery. Or so Dr. Reese claimed … 

5) According to Beckett and his mom, Cassie’s dog, Bean, looks exactly like Cookie.

Meanwhile, I’d never even laid eyes on Cassie, although I’d been walking her dog for almost a month. She’d never returned my call from last week. Was it because she was hiding something? I had to find out, so I picked up the phone and dialed her number. As luck would have it, I learned that Cassie’s cable was out. She told me she’d be home the next day waiting for the repairperson.

As soon as school got out, I headed to her apartment.

When Cassie opened the door, I noticed not just her but the brand-new, larger-than-life portrait of Bean hanging on the wall behind her. In it, Bean was chilling out in a pile of leaves, looking peaceful and even friendly, wearing a bubblegum pink coat with a matching bow.

“Do you like it?” Cassie asked.

“It’s something,” I said to be polite. “I’m Maggie, by the way.”

“I figured.” Cassie smiled to reveal dimples as she shook my hand. She was pretty—short and chubby with curly red hair and large green eyes. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

“You, too.”

“Isn’t it amazing?” she asked, pointing to the painting. “I found this artist online. She works out of Montana and had to paint from pictures, but she really captured Bean’s essence, I think.”

If she really wanted to capture Bean’s essence, she probably should’ve painted a picture of Bean with someone’s pant leg between her teeth, but I kept this observation to myself.

Obviously Cassie loved her dog to the point of being oblivious to her flaws. It was sweet.

“I almost went with a picture of Bean on a blanket in the sand with the ocean behind her. But the last time I took Bean to Coney Island she bit a lifeguard, so I don’t think she has the best associations with the beach,” she went on.

Just as I’ll bet half of Brooklyn has bad associations with Bean, I thought, and since she expected me to say something, I told her I liked the fall leaves. “It’s very, um, seasonal.”

“So true,” said Cassie. “Maybe I should have one made for the winter, too. You know, Bean playing in the snow.”

“Does she like the snow?” I had a hard time imagining Bean liking anything.

“I don’t know. This will be our first winter together. But I do look forward to buying her a winter wardrobe. Do you think she looks better in red or pink?”

“Um, I haven’t given it much thought, but why go with a solid? I have a friend who’s an amazing knitter. I’ll bet she could make Bean a lovely striped sweater.”

“A custom outfit,” said Cassie. “That’s a fabulous idea! I like the way you think, Maggie. In the meantime, can you take Bean out? It would be just my luck to leave and miss the cable guy, when I’ve been at home waiting all day.”

“Of course,” I said. “That’s why I’m here!”

“I’ll get her new leash.” She opened up the closet, rifled through a pile of bags on the floor, and handed me a garish purple thing. “Isn’t it cute?”

“Adorable.” I clipped the leash to Bean’s collar, ignoring the slight snarl on her lips. “Hey, I was wondering about something … ”

“Are you going to ask me why I’m obsessed with my dog?” asked Cassie. “I know it’s a little weird. My boyfriend broke up with me and I bought her a week later, but I don’t think those things are necessarily related. You know?”

“No, that’s not it,” I said, although that kind of explained a lot. “You mentioned you haven’t had Bean that long, so I was wondering, when did you get her?”

“It’ll be a month in three days,” she said. “Which reminds me, I’m throwing her an anniversary party and you’re invited. Your dog, too.”

“I don’t have a dog.”

“You don’t? That’s so sad!” Cassie cried. She really seemed upset by the news.

“My brother’s allergic, but it’s no biggie, because I’m used to it. Not having a dog, that is. That’s why walking them is so much fun. Plus, our landlady has a dog that I help take care of and he feels like mine.”

“But still … ”

“Where did you find Bean?” I asked, finally getting to the point.

“From a local breeder,” said Cassie.

“Do you remember the name?”

“I think so.” Cassie squinted, like she was struggling to think. “Bertha something.”

“Not Brenda?” I asked.

“Yes.” Cassie snapped her fingers. “Boutique Breeds by Brenda. I don’t know how I could’ve forgotten.”

Just hearing the name out loud gave me the chills. It struck me that Cassie got her dog very soon after Beckett’s dog, Cookie, went to the farm. I already suspected Dr. Reese of something fishy. Could her twin sister be involved, too?

“What’s Brenda like?” I asked.

“Don’t know. I never met her,” Cassie replied.

“So she wasn’t there when you got Bean?”

“Bean was delivered by messenger, because Brenda doesn’t have an actual storefront in Brooklyn.”

“So how did you find out about her?”

“I saw a flyer hanging up at a pet store. Beastly Bites on Seventh Avenue? I went in there to buy a dog but it turns out they just sell food and supplies. Not actual animals, unless you count the frozen mice they sell as snake food. I’m not really sure—”

“So you saw the flyer?” I asked to get her back on track.

“Yes.” Cassie nodded. “On the bulletin board by the front. And I called the number. Brenda answered and I asked her what kinds of dogs she had and she asked me what kind of dog I wanted and I told her a Maltese. And she said I was in luck because they were expecting a bunch of Maltese puppies the following week.”

Cassie was so sweet and sincere—a true animal lover. I’d crossed her off my list of suspects almost as soon as I’d met her, but her story still sounded suspicious. “Did you ever speak to Brenda again?” I wondered.

“Sure,” said Cassie. “I called her as soon as I found out Bean wasn’t actually a puppy.”

“What?” I asked.

“At her first exam, my veterinarian told me she was at least a year old, so I called Brenda to get the story. Brenda was as shocked as I was. She said I could return the dog for something else, but she didn’t have any other Maltese puppies in stock and she didn’t know when more would arrive. And of course, I’d never think of exchanging Bean. I just wanted an explanation.”

“Which she couldn’t give you.”

“Right,” said Cassie. “It’s a mystery. But like I said, Brenda gets her dogs from breeders all over the country, so I figured it was an innocent mistake.”

“Uh-huh.” I didn’t say so, but it sounded to me like Brenda was the opposite of innocent.

Chapter 26

♦     ♦     ♦

Bean and I did a quick loop around the block. After dropping her off, I ducked into Beastly Bites and spotted the pink flyer immediately.
BOUTIQUE BREEDS BY BRENDA
was printed across the top in bold black letters. I looked around to make sure no one was watching, then ripped it off the wall and stuffed it in my pocket. After buying some extra poop bags and dog biscuits, I headed out.

Since I was so anxious to continue investigating, I took Milo and Preston for short walks. And when I finally got home, I found Finn and my parents in the living room.

“What’s everyone doing here?” I asked.

“I left the office a bit early but it’s already past six,” said Mom.

“So sorry,” I said, glancing at my watch for the first time all day. Luckily I was only ten minutes late, and no one seemed to mind so much.

“Could you set the table for dinner?” asked Dad.

“Sure, in a minute. I just need to make a quick phone call first.”

Before I could make it to the cordless, I noticed Finn reading what looked like some sort of invitation.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Here, it’s for you, too,” said Finn, handing it over.

It was from Isabel and written in fancy calligraphy.

Please join me downstairs for cocktails and light hors d’oeuvres at half past seven tonight. I’ve had tenants living under my roof for almost fifteen years and I’ve never had you all over. I’d like to change that. And please arrive promptly. I’m sorry for the short notice, but I have some very big news … 

Ciao,

Isabel Rose Franini

“She’s having a party?” I asked.

“It looks that way,” Mom said. “Which is so nice.”

“As long as she doesn’t talk about Nathan Lane the whole time,” said Dad.

“Or how she turned down that big role on
Charlie’s Angels
because television was beneath her,” Finn added.

“I’ve never heard that one,” said Mom.

“Really?” we all asked.

She grinned and shook her head. “Man, are you all gullible.”

I stared at the invitation, tracing the calligraphy with one finger. It seemed so elegant, so reminiscent of how Isabel used to live. When she had a ton of money. Before she had to carve up her house into rental apartments.

And that’s when this horrible thought occurred to me. Isabel was rich again, which meant she didn’t need us as tenants. Because once more, she could afford to live in her brownstone by herself.

What if this party was just an excuse to gather us all together and tell us in one fell swoop that we had to move out immediately?

Could she do that? Would she do that?

Isabel was so nice. Reasonable, too. Well, reasonable in some respects. So I was sure she’d give us notice. But how much? And more importantly, where were we going to live?

As much as I wanted to run downstairs and ask Isabel what was up, I couldn’t. There were more important things to take care of. So I headed to my room and called the number on the flyer.

“Boutique Breeds by Brenda,” the woman who answered the phone said in a singsongy and familiar voice.

“Can I speak to, um, Brenda, please?”

“This is she. Who’s calling?”

Good question. One that threw me more than it should have. I coughed to stall, and then I blurted out the first name I came up with. “Um, my name is Kir—Kirsten. And I’m calling about a dog.”

“Oh good. What kind would you like?” Brenda asked.

“What kinds do you have?” I asked.

“Lots of breeds. Tell me what you’re interested in and I’m sure we can arrange something.” It was just like Cassie had said.

“Well, I’m not really sure what I want. I think I’d rather pick out a dog in person, so if you give me your address I can drop by.”

“Oh no. We don’t work that way,” Brenda explained. “I’m more like a broker who works with many different breeders. All our pets can be delivered to your doorstep. No fuss, no muss. Do you have an idea of what you want, because I might have it in stock. If not, I’ll find it for you within days.”

“Days?”

“Sometimes sooner,” said Brenda. “It depends on what’s around.”

I gulped. “And you can get
any
dog?”

“Pretty much. It’s just a question of time.”

“That’s amazing. How do you do it?”

The woman ignored my question. “We seem to have a lot of large dogs in stock right now. There’s a gorgeous collie, a cute little Lab puppy, and a Rhodesian ridgeback who’s almost fully grown. Also, I’m expecting a French bulldog any day now.”

I covered my mouth to keep from gasping out loud. The breeds she was referring to all had gone missing. And if she was expecting a French bulldog, well, that meant she must be plotting her next crime … 

“Hello?” she asked.

I almost said I’d like all three. If I bought everything she had, I could return the animals to their rightful owners. But that would probably get expensive. I didn’t know if I even had enough money for one dog. Plus, this didn’t solve the biggest problem. It wouldn’t stop Brenda from stealing again.

“What if I’m not looking for a pure breed? What if I’m looking for a mutt?” I took a deep breath, almost scared to say what I said next. But this was my only chance. So I described Kermit. “Do you have a black-and-white Lab-Dalmatian mix? Something big, with scruffy fur and a few spots? Maybe not even a puppy. Do you have a dog that’s a few years old? That’s what I’m really looking for.”

My question was met with silence.

“Hello?” I asked.

“Who is this?” Brenda demanded.

“Who’s this?” I replied.

“You’ll never know,” she said before hanging up.

We’ll see about that, I thought as I pressed redial. Brenda didn’t pick up—not that this shocked me.

As I listened to the phone ring and ring and ring, I realized I’d finally figured it out. Brenda had stolen Kermit and the other dogs, too.

And I was pretty sure I knew where she kept them.