The Big Chihuahua Page 6

  “Oh my Dog!” Artichoke shouted, kneeling down and touching Tammy’s neck tentatively. She turned to look at us. “She’s dead!” She seemed amazed.

  “Yes, my dog just found her.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “I don’t know.” I was surprised she was asking me.

  “Perhaps wild animals, maybe a bear,” said Artichoke mournfully, bending her head to examine the body more closely. “See the scratch marks all over her?”

  “What should we do?” I asked.

  “I need to tell Star,” Artichoke said. “She will be inconsolable. Every one of her children is precious to her. And someone needs to contact the authorities.”

  “I’ll get my cell phone and call nine-one-one,” I said.

  Artichoke shook her head. “There’s no coverage here. You will have to drive down and tell the sheriff.”

  “We’ll do that. Just tell me where to go.” I wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.

  “Fern Lake,” said Artichoke. “Right on the main street.”

  “What is this place?” I asked, turning to go and realizing I needed to be able to identify the location of the body.

  “Say she’s at the edge of the construction site. Everyone will know where that is.”

  “Is she safe?” I asked. Then realized how absurd that sounded. “If it’s a bear, won’t he come back?”

  “Perhaps we should leave your dog to guard the body,” Artichoke suggested.

  “No way, Jose!” said Pepe. “I’m going with Geri!”

  “He has to come with me,” I said.

  Artichoke nodded. “OK. Well, then, hurry!”

  As we headed down the road, I heard the wolf-dogs howling.

  Chapter 12

  The police station was in a small storefront on the main street. I sat on a wooden bench in the lobby with Pepe by my side. A rather large, middle-aged woman wearing beige cat-shaped glasses sat behind the front desk. Her ginger-colored hair had been badly permed. The name plate on her desk said her name was Alice Keyes. She spent most of her time on the phone, talking with one of her friends.

  “You’ll never guess what happened up at the Dogawanda compound.... Yes, I told you those folks were weirdoes. This was bound to happen sooner or later.”

  Occasionally she put her friend on hold and answered what appeared to be official calls. I could tell she was following the unfolding case up at the retreat center.

  “I’ll see if I can find Ray and get him up there,” she would say.

  I could see her eyeing me and my dog with bright eyes, and I’m sure she wanted to get my version of events, but she probably wasn’t allowed to question a witness on her own.

  Alice cradled the phone between her left ear and shoulder. Evidently she was on hold with someone. She reached into a small wooden bowl on her desk with her free hand and withdrew what looked like a pretzel.

  “Can your dog have a treat?” she asked me.

  “Dos, por favor,” said Pepe, scampering right over to her before I had a chance to answer.

  Alice smiled and tossed three pretzels on the floor for him. Pepe snapped them up.

  “She gave me tres,” said Pepe, scampering over to me. “This policia senora is my first cop amiga.”

  “I’ve always liked Chihuahuas,” said Alice, hanging up the phone. “You want some coffee?” she asked me.

  “That would be great,” I said. My headache had become a pounding, throbbing vise gripping the top of my head.

  As she handed me a Styrofoam cup of coffee, brought in from the back room, I thought I might be able to gain her sympathy. “Thanks,” I said. “I really need this. Can you believe? They don’t have any coffee up there. I was desperate.”

  She gave me a faint, slightly predatory smile. Her eyes gleamed behind her glasses.

  I took a sip of the coffee. It was strong, like black sludge, but it was exactly what I needed. “I was just up there for the introductory weekend,” I said. “Checking it out.”

  “What did you think?” she asked.

  “It was pretty strange,” I said. “I don’t really understand the philosophy.”

  “I hear they do weird rituals at night,” she said, licking her lips. “Running around in the woods naked. Pretending to be dogs”—she winked at me—“in more ways than one.”

  Oh, wow! I really missed a lot by going straight to my room. “I didn’t see any of that,” I confessed. Her smile fell. “But then again, I went to bed early. I don’t really know what happened last night.”

  She brightened again. “Well, something obviously went down.” She tapped her finger on the clipboard on her desk. “That poor girl.”

  “Yes, her name was Tammy Darling,” I said.

  She perked up. “Really? They’re telling me that everyone is calling her Leaf.”

  “That’s the name Dogawanda gave her,” I said. “But her real name is Tammy Darling.”

  “I’ll get on the phone and tell the sheriff,” she said. As she was dialing, she looked over at me. “So what name did Dogawanda give you?” she asked.

  “I don’t have a name yet,” I said, which suddenly made me sad. I didn’t realize it, but I had a sort of yearning to see what Dogawanda would see in me. A tree? A flower? A bird? “But my dog got a name. He’s Towering Cedar.”

  “Well, tell Towering Cedar to get his nose out of there!” she said, pointing to where Pepe was snuffling around the wastebasket. The sheriff must have come on the line then, because I heard her telling him that the victim was Tammy Darling. “The woman you’ve got waiting here in the office told me.” He must have chastised her about talking to me because she said, “Of course not! She volunteered the information.”

  And that was that. I went back to sipping my syrupy coffee and she called up another friend and began gossiping about the Dogawandans again, starting with the exciting news about the dead body and proceeding to list every wrongdoing associated with them. Apparently they had started building on their property without getting the proper permits. It also sounded like the matter was going to be settled within a few days at a hearing of the Board of Adjustment.

  There was a commotion outside. A big SUV with the word SHERIFF printed in gold letters on the side pulled up at the same time as a white van that was emblazoned with the logo of the Dogawanda retreat center—a huge yellow five-pointed star framing the head of a dog. A middle-aged man in a brown uniform got out of the SUV. He also wore a pistol belt, a light-colored cowboy hat, and a shiny silver badge on his chest. A gaggle of green-clothed men and women emerged from the van. I didn’t see Star anywhere, but as they filed into the room, I recognized Artichoke. Her hair was still tangled and her clothing rumpled. And walking beside her, supporting her with a hand placed under her elbow, was a woman who looked vaguely familiar. She had long, dark curly hair and a friendly, open face. It was her walk that was most familiar, a sort of languid sway that I instantly recognized but couldn’t place.

  Pepe’s little nose was sniffing the air like crazy. He ran over to her and then ran back to me, sniffing my leg. “She smells just like you,” he said. “If you subtract the jasmine and incense. Why is that, Geri?”

  The woman stopped about halfway into the room, apparently shocked by the sight of me. I saw her instinctively start to turn around and run. Then she stopped herself.

  “Because she is my sister,” I said as recognition dawned.

  Chapter 13

  “Geri?” she said, taking a tentative step toward me.

  “Terry?” I said in response.

  “No, my name is Flicker,” she said impatiently, continuing to gaze on my face as if she were thirsty and I was a drink of cool water.

  “But you used to be Terry,” I said. “Terry Sullivan.”

  She shuddered. “Don’t ever call me that!” she said. We stared at each other. Her eyes were the greenish blue I remembered, striking against the tanned skin of her face.

  “Wow!” said one of the green-clad one
s. “You two could be sisters.”

  “Hush!” said Artichoke. She looked from one of us to the other. “I think they are.”

  “What are you doing here?” Terry asked.

  “I came up for the introductory weekend,” I said. “What are you doing here?”

  “She’s here to be questioned, along with all of these other folks,” said the sheriff. “Now break it up. No talking to each other while waiting to be interviewed. I want to know who was the last person to talk to the victim.”

  “I spoke to her at lunch,” I volunteered. “That was about one p.m.” I looked at Terry. “She said she was going to go speak to her spiritual advisor. Someone named Flicker.”

  “All right!” the sheriff said. “What’s your name?” I told him and he wrote it down. “And who saw her after that?”

  To my relief, Terry spoke up. “She came to speak to me. I’m her spiritual advisor. My name is Flicker.” She looked at me defiantly when she said that. “But she left about three p.m. I thought she was going to talk to Artichoke.”

  The sheriff rolled his eyes. “And is Artichoke here?”

  Artichoke stepped forward. “She never came to see me.”

  “So it looks like she was waylaid sometime after three p.m. Did anyone see her after that?”

  A few people thought they might have seen her heading for the hot springs later that night, but no one was sure it was her. “She seemed to be in a hurry,” said one woman. “She had her head down and it was dark. I greeted her, but she didn’t respond. Which was unusual. So that’s why I couldn’t tell for sure if it was her.”

  “And was there anyone else still at the hot springs when you left?” asked the sheriff.

  “Just Fox Black,” said the woman. A blush spread across her cheeks and she looked down.

  “Well, where is this Fox Black?” asked the sheriff.

  “He’s on his way,” said one of the deputies.

  “So unless this Fox Black saw her, you might have been the last one to see her alive,” said the sheriff, gazing suspiciously at my sister.

  “I think she might have talked to Crystal Star,” I said, remembering how Star had known Pepe’s Dogawandan name. Either that or there really was an entity named Dogawanda who could discern Pepe’s true name.

  “Yes, where is Crystal Star?” asked the sheriff impatiently.

  “She’s on her way in too,” said one of the deputies.

  “Well, let’s begin the questioning,” the sheriff said. “You!” He pointed at my sister. “Go with him!” He pointed at one of his deputies. “You!” He pointed at me. “In here!” He gestured toward an office in back of Alice’s desk.

  I followed him with Pepe trotting behind me. It was a small room, mostly filled by a metal desk that was covered with papers. It actually reminded me a little of Jimmy G’s office, minus the aquarium and the smell of old food. This office smelled like old coffee and old paper. The blinds on the tiny window were covered with dust. A calendar featuring a photo of a buck in the woods hung from the wall, along with a number of framed certificates and photos of the sheriff posing beside what I assumed were local celebrities. One shot showed him on the set of Northern Exposure, which had been shot in the nearby town of Roslyn.

  “My favorite show when I was in high school!” I said when I saw it.

  The sheriff did not look amused. He gestured for me to sit down on a wooden chair facing the desk, then plunked himself down in the old green upholstered armchair behind the desk. The springs squeaked as he settled in. He introduced himself as Sheriff Pager, then asked for my contact information.

  After writing that down, he wanted to know what I was doing up at the Dogawanda Center. I decided to skip the part about being a PI. For some reason, law enforcement types seemed not to like private investigators, especially ones who weren’t licensed or trained.

  “I was attending the introductory weekend,” I said.

  “For what reason?”

  “Just curiosity, I guess,” I said. “Since I have a dog myself ”—I pointed at Pepe, who was sitting quietly by my side—“I wanted to learn about dog wisdom.”

  “So how did you meet the victim?” he asked.

  “I met her in the lunch line,” I said. “She seemed nice enough. She told me a little bit about her former life. That’s how I learned her name was Tammy Darling. She was married and lived in Seattle.”

  “So who do you know up there?”

  “No one,” I said.

  “What about that woman who said she was your sister?”

  “That is my sister,” I said. “But I haven’t seen her for over ten years. I had no idea she was involved with the Dogawandans.”

  “I found her for you!” said Pepe happily.

  “That seems unlikely,” the sheriff said.

  “She disappeared ten years ago when she was twenty,” I said. “If you check, you’ll see there’s a missing persons report. My older sister and I filed it back in 2000. Her name is Terry Sullivan.”

  “And you’ve never heard from her since?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Not once.”

  “So you don’t know what she’s been doing?”

  “Well, obviously living with the Dogawandans,” I said. I didn’t really want to get into Terry’s life before she disappeared. It wasn’t very savory. The last time we had heard from her, she was dancing at a strip club. Maybe the sheriff would think her lifestyle made her more likely to commit a crime like murder.

  He didn’t seem convinced but went on. “Tell me what you talked about with the victim.”

  “You mean Tammy?” For some reason it bugged me that she didn’t have a name.

  “Tammy.”

  Another trap I might step into. I kept it light. “She told me about her intention to go on to level three. That would mean she needed to sign up for another class. She was going to talk to her spiritual advisor about making that happen.” I hoped that would jibe with what Terry would tell them.

  “And her spiritual advisor was your sister?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t know that at the time,” I said. “She called her Flicker.”

  “Ridiculous!” snorted the sheriff. It was unclear if he was referring to her name or the fact that I didn’t know she was there.

  “How did Tammy die?” I asked.

  “Cannot discuss that,” said the sheriff.

  “Tell him about the wolves,” Pepe suggested.

  “Do you know there are wolves up there at the compound?” I asked.

  The sheriff seemed taken aback. “What makes you say that?”

  Well, I couldn’t really tell him my dog told me to say that. “Just thought it might be important.”

  The sheriff’s eyebrows rose. “We do know about the wolves,” he said carefully. “The townsfolk don’t like it much. Think they might get loose and attack someone.”

  “Like Tammy?” I asked.

  His eyes narrowed.

  “What would make you think she was attacked by wolves?” he asked.

  “She had what looked like claw marks on her arm,” I said. “But Artichoke thought she might have been attacked by a bear.”

  The sheriff snorted again. “Bears don’t attack humans. Not in these woods anyway.” But he made another note.

  Just then, Alice poked her head back in. “Crystal Star has arrived,” she said, “and Fox Black is with her.” Even Alice seemed to be affected by the presence of the rock star. I could hear the excitement in her voice.

  Chapter 14

  The outer room was abuzz with the presence of Crystal Star. She seemed to be unaffected by the news of Tammy’s death. She smiled upon her assembled acolytes and the few townspeople who had come to gawk at the freak show. She was in full regalia, wearing a royal purple silk caftan, her hair pulled up and circled by a gauzy purple scarf. She hung on the arm of Fox Black, who was barefoot, wearing a pair of tight black leather pants, a black T-shirt, and dark glasses.

  “Miz Star,” said the sheriff. �
�Could you follow me, please?”

  She sailed off with him, with one last glance at Fox Black, who seemed rather lost. All of the women kept their distance from him, even the one who had blushed when she spoke of being the last one in the hot springs with him.

  I marched right up to him. “So did you see Leaf last night?” I asked. “Maybe at the hot springs?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “One naked woman looks kinda like another. In the dark anyway.”

  Pepe growled at him, an appropriate response, I thought.

  “Hey, no talking,” said Alice, looking up from her phone call.

  I wondered if they had notified Mark of his wife’s death yet. Just then the deputy came out from an interview room with my sister. “You’re free to go for now,” he told her, “but we may have more questions later.”

  “Let’s talk, Terry,” I said, grabbing her by the elbow and pulling her outside. The main street, which was lined with tall wooden false-front buildings with wide front porches, looked just like the town in Northern Exposure. At one corner was a brick building that housed the bank and across the street to the left was a long low diner. Golden letters in an arc on the dusty plate-glass front window spelled out the name SIT AND GAB.

  So that’s what we did. It was a quaint little place with knotty pine paneling on the walls and green Naugahyde-upholstered booths along the sides. Various taxidermy animals—squirrels, skunks, owls—stood on little sconces that lined the walls.

  The place was pretty packed. I think the news of the suspicious death had traveled rapidly, thanks to Alice and her phone work, and all heads turned when we walked in. I put Pepe in my purse, since I know dogs aren’t allowed in eating establishments. Luckily the hostess seated us in the one unoccupied booth at the back of the restaurant, since everyone else wanted to be up close to watch the drama across the street unfold. If only they knew it was unfolding between me and my sister.

  There was a stuffed skunk lifting his tail on one side of the booth and a big snowy owl on the other side. Pepe wrinkled his nose when he saw the skunk but cowered at the sight of the owl.

  “Where do you get all the animals from?” I asked our waitress, a young woman with a purple streak in her hair and a diamond in her nose.