The Big Chihuahua (17 page)

I’d been crying off and on as we drove back to the Dogawandan compound. I didn’t want to cry in front of my dog, but I couldn’t help it.

“You should take it like a dog,” Pepe told me.

“Is that a variation of ‘you should take it like a man’?” I asked him.

“
Sí
. In a way.”

“Well,” I told him, “I’m neither a man nor a dog. I’m a woman.”

“Well, duh!” he said as if I’d just told him that grass was green or the sky was blue.

“So what did you mean by saying I should take it like a man? That I should just suck it up and act like I’m not hurt by Felix and Chloe?”

“That is one interpretation,” he said. “But remember, I said take it like a
dog.
”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Geri,” Pepe told me, “in the
perro
world, we fight our rivals. That or roll over and let them walk all over us. You must decide whether to fight for Felix or roll over.”

“What are you now, Dr. Phil?”

“You may think of me that way if you wish. Right now he would ask you, ‘So, how’s that workin’ for you?’”

“Not well,” I told him in all honesty.

“My point exactly,” said Pepe. “You must remember that males and females are different.”

It was my turn to say, “Well, duh!”

“By which I mean,” Pepe continued, “the male
perro
is not subtle when he wishes to mate. He does not wine and dine. He goes straight to the female
perro
, gives her a sniff, and tries to do the deed. He is either rebuffed with a bark and a bite, or she makes herself available.”

“Yes, Pepe, I know that.”

“Ah,” he said, before going on to discount my statement of the obvious. “But there is often a difference between what you know and what you
do
. You must remember this: when it comes to mating, it is always the female who makes the choice.”

Now my dog sounded like a combination of Dr. Phil
and
Dogawanda. But I saw his point.

“Of course,” said Pepe, gazing out the window. “Do not take my words of advice to mean that I approve of this match. I do not think he is worthy of you.”

“You would not think any man was worthy of me,” I said.

“That is untrue,” he said.

“Name one man you would approve of,” I said.

He thought about that for a minute, then said, “Ramon from
Paraiso Perdido
.”

“But Ramon is a fictional character,” I pointed out. “He’s not real.”

“Reality is just an illusion,” Pepe said.

I just shook my head. “Dogawanda is really rubbing off on you,” I said.

I was afraid I would run into Artichoke back at the ranch and be asked to explain my absence, but despite a brief encounter with a guard at the gate, I was able to slip into my room unnoticed. Completely worn out from all of the emotional turmoil of the day, I climbed into bed. Pepe jumped up and snuggled beside me and we both drifted off to sleep.

The next morning we decided over a quick breakfast that our first order of business was to go rescue Fuzzy. As we headed down Main Street, we passed a balding man wearing a shabby sports coat who seemed to be mumbling to himself. Pepe growled softly.

“That’s rude, Pepe,” I said. “That poor guy probably can’t help himself.”

“Yes, he can, Geri,” said Pepe. “That’s our boss! And he’s not talking to himself—he’s singing.”

“You’ve got to be kidding!” I pulled over and waited until the man ambled up past my window. It was indeed Jimmy G. He was not wearing his fedora, which was why I had noticed his bald spot for the first time. And he was singing. It was a rather garbled version, but I thought I recognized an old Spikes hit: “Junkyard Dog.”

I rolled down the window. “Hey, boss!” I said.

He turned around and looked at me, clearly puzzled. Then his expression cleared and a big grin spread across his face.

“Geri and her rat-dog!” he said. “Top of the morning to you!” He lifted his hand, apparently to tip his hat, then brought it down empty. He looked confused.

“You lost your fedora somewhere!” I said.

“Well, that’s too bad, but Jimmy G has good news,” he said. He reached into his pocket and brought out a handful of bills. “Moola! And oodles of it!”

“How did that happen?” I asked.

“Let Jimmy G take you and the rat-dog out to breakfast and I’ll tell you all about it,” he said.

That sounded OK with me—I could use a coffee—so we gave Jimmy G a ride to the diner, which was only a few blocks away.

“So where did all the money come from?” I asked my boss after the waitress took our order. Jimmy G had encouraged us to get anything we wanted. Pepe wanted an order of bacon, extra crispy. I went for a short stack of pancakes, since grains were forbidden on the Paleolithic diet. Jimmy G ordered the rancher’s breakfast: a steak, two eggs over easy and some hash browns, plus two cups of coffee.

“Poker game,” he said. “Jimmy G cleaned their clocks.”

“Where did you find a poker game in this town?” I asked.

“Not in town,” Jimmy G said. Our coffees arrived. He fished two ice cubes out of his water glass and plopped them in his cup. Then he swilled down the whole mug at once. Sitting across from him, I could smell the cigar smoke that saturated his clothes and the bourbon wafting out of his pores. “Indian casino, just a few miles away.”

“How much did you win?” I asked.

“Enough to cover the back rent!” Jimmy G said. “Too bad about Mark, though. But this will set us straight.” He blinked and chugged the second cup of coffee.

“Did you talk to the sheriff?”

“Yeah, Ray thinks the guy killed himself. He actually asked Barry if he could borrow one of his guns. Said he was going hunting.”

“That’s weird,” I said. Mark didn’t seem like the hunting type. “I would think he would be pissed at Broadbent. After all, his wife gave all of their money to him.”

Our food arrived. I crumbled up the crispy bacon for Pepe. He launched into it with gusto.

“Seems like it was a misunderstanding. Jimmy G didn’t get the details.” Jimmy G poked the napkin into his collar, covering up his shirt and tie, and tackled his steak.

I slathered my pancakes with syrup and began cutting them up into wedges. “So how did you find this poker game?” I asked.

“Broadbent was the one who suggested it,” Jimmy G said. He poked the yolks on his over-easy eggs and the yellow liquid spread in pools around his hash browns. “Said he couldn’t drink in town. Was sort of unpopular because of the way he voted on some zoning thing. So we headed out to the casino. Found a poker game. Barry dropped out pretty quickly, though. Then it was just me and Curly.”

“Curly?”

“Big palooka,” said Jimmy G. “Rough-looking, midforties maybe, but polite. Sure had a lot of questions. But that was part of his game: keep Jimmy G’s mind off
his
game. But that didn’t work.”

“What kind of questions?”

“He was looking for some stripper he knew ten years ago. Said she danced at a club up off Lake City Way in Seattle. Went by the name of Breezy.”

My heart did a flip-flop. “Did he say why he was looking for her?”

“Said he lost touch with her. Wanted to reconnect. Had just heard she was in Fern Lake.”

“Boss,” I asked, “why was this guy asking you about her?” I knew Jimmy G didn’t know about Terry’s stint working as a stripper, or her exboyfriend or her stint in the witness protection grogram.

“Don’t have a clue,” the boss told me. “Just assumed he was trying to distract Jimmy G.” The waitress came over to refill his coffee cup. “Well, come to think of it, Curly did get real interested when he learned Jimmy G was a private detective.”

“You told him that?”

“Why not? He said that was real exciting. Got even more excited when Jimmy G told him about his operatives who were undercover in a cult that had a compound up here in the mountains.”

“You told him that?”

“Why not? He said that was real interesting. Said he’d shown this Breezy’s photo around town and nobody had seen her, but maybe he’d check out this cult.”

“Oh my Dog!” I was starting to pick up the Dogawandan lingo. “I can’t believe you did that!”

“Why? What’s wrong, doll?”

I filled him in quickly on my sister and her story.

“Wow!” said Jimmy G. “Sounds like this Curly might be looking for her. And not because he wants to catch up on old times.”

“Yes, and if that’s true, she’s in danger! We’ve got to get back!”

“Geri,” said Pepe as we hustled to the car. “We must warn your sister,
sí
, but we cannot leave Fuzzy behind.”

“You’re right,” I told him. “But we’ve got to hurry.”

We were lucky. With the help of the letter from Sheriff Pager, we were able to convince the vet to release her. She seemed happy to see us, leaping into the air and turning in circles.

On the way back to the ranch, Fuzzy and Pepe snuggled together on the backseat. I could only hear Pepe’s side of the conversation, but it sounded very comforting. Maybe my dog was becoming a spiritual guru.

Back at the ranch, I saw Felix’s car in the parking lot, along with some trucks that I assumed had brought up the cameras and lights for the film crew. There was also a trailer, which probably served as a temporary dressing room.

“Where is the craft table?” Pepe asked. He knew his way around a movie set from our days working on
Dancing with Dogs
.

“I doubt they have a craft table,” I said, “but we can always get some food from the kitchen. Is Fuzzy hungry?”

“Are you?” Pepe asked.

Apparently her answer was a vigorous yes, because Pepe reassured her. “Do not worry. They will not feed you grocery store kibble here.”

When we crested the ridge where we had a view of the grounds, I saw the film crew set up in the meadow to our right, beside the yurt. But we headed straight for the lodge and ran right into Artichoke.

“Where have you been?” she asked.

I introduced her to Fuzzy and explained our mission of mercy. She turned up her nose at the sight of Fuzzy. Who could blame her? The poor dog was in even worse shape than when we had first seen her, her fur all dirty and matted and hanging over her eyes.

I asked her about Terry. Or rather Flicker. Or maybe Breezy.

“I haven’t seen her today,” Artichoke said. “But I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Crystal wants to see Pepe immediately. In the inner sanctum. She’s preparing something fabulous for this evening, and she insists that he is part of it.”

“OK, I’ll take him up there,” I said, heading for the stairs.

“Not you!” she said, stepping in front of me. “Your dog alone!”

“What about this dog?” I asked, pointing to Fuzzy. “Can she come along?”

“Fuzzy should come, too,” Pepe said. “She might learn something from Dogawanda about being in the Now. She is still back in the past.”

Artichoke shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

 

 

I watched as Artichoke led them away. The two little dogs followed at her heels as she headed up the stairs. I have to admit I felt a little jealous.

But I had more important things to do. I needed to find my sister and warn her about the stranger who was looking for her. I wandered through the organic garden, visited the kitchen, took the path to the hot springs, looked into the lounge in the Beta Barn, but no one had seen her. Had she already packed up and left? Had the goon from Seattle found her? Several people suggested she might be watching the filming, so I headed over there.

The crew had set up in the big meadow to the east of the yurt. Tavo oriented me to the schedule for the day. They were filming some of the action shots with the wolves chasing Chloe, which they would later convert to look like night scenes. But they also wanted to film the rise of the full moon over the trees and pan down to the wolves running across the meadow.

Felix was at one end of the meadow, holding one of the wolf-dogs. At a signal from the director, who was standing at the other end, he released it and the animal ran across the grass, so fast he was almost a gray blur. It was actually quite beautiful to watch: this magnificent animal in its prime, stretching out to his full capacity.

There were two cameras. One faced the meadow and the woods and could film the wolf-dog as it ran by. I was standing by the other camera, the one that Tavo was manning, along with the director and Chloe. It was set up so it would look like the wolf-dog was running straight at it. Very dramatic. Especially since the wolf-dog didn’t stop. It was heading straight for us at full speed.

“Felix!” the director screamed. “Stop that wolf!”

“Will do!” Felix yelled back. He came running across the clearing after the wolf-dog.

My God, I thought. Were things going badly for Felix already? Chloe, who was standing near the director, wearing a flimsy pink dress, let out a shriek as the wolf-dog changed directions very slightly and seemed to home in on her.

That’s when Felix got near enough to the beast to shout, “Stay!”

The wolf-dog hesitated, and Felix repeated the command with a sharp, downward motion of his right hand. “Stay!”

Amazingly, the wolf-dog obeyed. Felix went up, slipped him a treat of some kind, and then put a muzzle and leash on him.

“You’ve got to set that up better, bro,” said Tavo.

“Yeah, I need to be at this end so he can hear the commands,” said Felix. “I’ll have to find someone else to let the hybrid go. If he knows the reward is over here, he should be good to go.”

“Chloe, Rod, get over here. We need to shoot the kissing scene,” said a woman with a clipboard. A guy got up from where he had been sitting under a tree on a folding chair. He wore only jeans; his chest was bare and he was ripped. Although those muscle men are not usually my type, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of his abs.

Felix approached me. “Geri, I still want to explain.”

“It’s OK,” I said. “I overreacted.”

“Let me put this hybrid back in the pen,” said Felix. “I’ll be right back.”

While he was gone, I stood on the sidelines watching as Chloe and the leading man were put into position in the tall grass of the clearing. As far as I could tell, he was supposed to have just morphed from a werewolf into a human and now he had her down on the ground and they were supposed to be kissing. Unfortunately, the scene was not going well. Chloe kept complaining that she was uncomfortable. There was a rock in her back. Rod’s breath smelled bad. The camera was on her bad side. They took take after take.

“Chloe, for God’s sake, do you think you could convince us that you actually enjoy kissing him?” the director was saying just as Felix came back to my side.

“Yes, why not kiss him like this,” I said, deciding to kill two birds with one stone. I would be the one to show Chloe how to kiss—and I’d do it with Felix!

I took the startled Felix in my arms and kissed him right in front of everybody. And how I kissed him! I kissed him hard, I kissed him soft, I kissed him just caressing his lips with mine, and I kissed him deep and open-mouthed. There wasn’t a type of kiss that I missed, never once coming up for air.

When we finished kissing, the director said, “Wow! That’s the kiss I want! Thanks!”

Felix also smiled and said, “Wow! Me too!” “Nice work, Geri!” said Pepe, bounding up to me with Fuzzy at his side. “I see you took my advice.”

“I see you got Fuzzy,” said Felix, remembering his last encounter with the little dog.

“Yes, after Mark died, the sheriff gave me permission to get her.”

“Out of dog prison,” said Pepe.

“She’s a cute dog,” said Felix, picking her up and scratching behind her floppy ears, “but she badly needs some grooming. Her hair is all matted and she hasn’t had a bath in days. Can I take her back to the resort with me tonight and groom her?”

“If that’s OK with her,” I said, looking at Pepe.

“What do you think, Fuzzy?” Pepe asked.