Chihuahua Confidential Read online

  “What about you?” I asked Ted. “Found any evidence of dog abuse?”

  Ted stiffened. “It might sound funny to you, but it’s not amusing to me. Dogs don’t exist to entertain us.”

  “But there’s a system in place to make sure they’re not being abused.”

  “I’m not talking about that,” said Ted. “We treat them like servants. But they are beings with their own cultures. Do you know that whales pass along their favorite songs? And elephants mourn their dead. And dogs know when another member of their pack has died, even over a great distance. They are sentient beings. They have things to teach us, if only we could listen.”

  “See!” said Pepe. “You are lucky I am around to teach you!”

  That began a long rant in which Ted envisioned a world where even rivers and trees had rights and lawyers represented them in court when they were threatened with being covered over or chopped down. It was quite a vision and I enjoyed it.

  As Ted was waxing poetic, Pepe took off chasing the seagulls that had been gathering around us like a crowd of creepy stalkers. The light was going out of the sky, and the surfers left the water one by one.

  “You never told me about how you got involved in PETA,” I told Ted when he stopped to take a breath. “You started to tell me once.” Pepe came back, having driven the seagulls back, and sat in my lap.

  “Oh,” Ted said, and he stiffened. “It was something that happened when I was in college. I was a psych major, and I got a work study job in the Psych Department. I was pretty excited, as you can imagine—a job in my field—but my job was to feed the chimpanzees. They were using them for research, trying to determine how isolation and sensory deprivation affected behavior. Chimpanzees are highly social animals. They need interaction. I wasn’t even allowed to look at them or talk to them. Just push a lever that dropped food into their cages.” He stopped for a moment and stared out at the ocean.

  When he started speaking again, his voice was thick with emotion. “One of the chimps wasn’t eating, and I complained to my supervisor. He didn’t do anything about it. I complained again and again, but they were just excited about finally having results they could measure. The chimp died. Of starvation. I was the one who found him, just a heap of skin and bones, his eyes glazed. I lost it. I stormed out of there and called a friend who introduced me to Barbara, the woman who started PETA. She’s such an inspiration. . . .” His voice trailed off.

  Pepe wriggled in my arms. “Did I ever tell you about how I refused to be in an experiment?” he asked.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “We planned and carried off a perfect action. We liberated all those chimps, found them good homes, got on the news, started a swell of publicity and protests that ended in the department changing their policy on animal experimentation. It was a big story.”

  “I refused to allow them to plant some sort of monitoring equipment under my skin,” said Pepe.

  “Weren’t there repercussions?” I asked.

  “Yes, I was then shipped off like a prisoner with a bunch of other dogs,” said Pepe, “though I had done nothing wrong.”

  “Well, I lost my job, got expelled from school, and went to jail.”

  “That’s pretty serious.”

  “I know, but it brought me to you,” said Pepe.

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “Are you talking about chipping?”

  “What?” Ted was confused.

  “I just wondered what you thought about chipping?” I asked, staring at Pepe. Had he really been able to avoid being chipped? Then maybe he was Caprice’s dog, after all. Or maybe he avoided being chipped at the pound in Seattle.

  “Oh, I think it’s inhumane. Would we do that to people?” Ted said.

  “But it’s so the animals can be returned to their owners,” I pointed out.

  “Owner!” said Ted with a hoot of derision. “What a ridiculous name for the relationship between a human and an animal.”

  “You see, Geri,” said Pepe, “I told you we do not use that term. We prefer companion animal.”

  “Companion animal,” I mused.

  “Even that is a subservient relationship,” Ted pointed out.

  “I was thinking we were the companion animals,” I said.

  Ted didn’t get it for a minute. Then he threw back his head and laughed. I liked it that he seemed able to feel everything so deeply: the pain of the monkeys, the beauty of the sunset, the humor of a comment. “Very good, Geri!” he said, squeezing me. “Have you ever thought of joining PETA? We’re planning a big action tomorrow.”

  “Really? What?”

  Just then, Ted’s pocket began ringing. “Sorry!” he said, reaching into it and pulling out his phone. He looked at the number. “I’ve got to get this.” He got up and walked a short distance away. It was a brief conversation, consisting of “Yes,” and “OK,” and “Sure. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He came back over to me. “I’ve got to go. Important meeting. I’m sorry. I’d love to spend more time with you. Maybe tomorrow?” He was already helping me to my feet. I brushed sand off my jeans.

  “Tell him you will have your people call his people,” said Pepe.

  “I’ll have my people check my schedule—” I began, then whirled around and faced Pepe, who was trotting behind us, doing his funny sand prance. “What are you talking about?”

  “You have people?” Ted laughed.

  “Yes, she has me,” said Pepe.

  “My dog is my social secretary,” I explained.

  “Well, if it’s OK with him,” said Ted, “I’d like to spend more time with you.”

  “She is busy,” said Pepe.

  “He says I’m busy,” I said.

  “Maybe if I bring him a treat,” Ted said. “I know what dogs like.”

  “You do not know what I like!” Pepe was offended by the idea of being bribed. “Unless it is bacon.”

  “He likes bacon,” I offered. We were back at the car, and Ted held the door open for me. Pepe jumped into my lap.

  “No bacon,” said Ted. “I can’t sanction killing anything that has a face. Do you know pigs are more intelligent than dogs?”

  “I have changed my mind about him,” said Pepe. “No way are you going out with a guy who thinks pigs are more intelligent than perros.”

  Chapter 15

  Ted was suddenly in a rush to get rid of me. We raced back across town. There was just as much traffic this way, but he employed his shortcuts and soon we were pulling up in front of the hotel.

  Ted stepped out of the car and handed his keys to the valet.

  “No need to see me to my door,” I said as I untangled myself from my seat belt.

  “Oh, I wasn’t intending to,” he said. “My meeting is here at the hotel.”

  “Oh!”

  He gave me a quick hug, then hurried away toward the pool area.

  “What was that about?” I asked.

  “Let us see who he meets, Geri,” suggested Pepe, scurrying after him.

  Although normally I would not condone such behavior, I had to follow my dog. Just in case there was a bigger dog at the pool that hassled him.

  We followed a slate path that led past glossy green elephant ears and giant ferns and caught sight of Ted just as he was knocking on the door of Rebecca’s bungalow. We ducked behind a potted palm, but Rebecca wasn’t paying attention to us. She gave Ted the standard Hollywood greeting—a double kiss, one on each cheek—and then pulled him inside.

  “Do not worry, Geri,” said Pepe. “She cannot hold a candle to you in terms of beauty and youth. However, she does have mucho dinero.”

  “Money isn’t everything,” I said, although it did seem to be the major motivator in L.A.

  “What would Jimmy G do in this situation?” I wondered.

  And Pepe answered, “He would investigate. And so will we.” He ran at the door of the cottage, barking.

  “But, Pepe,” I said, rushing after him, “we can’t just go barging in without s
ome reason.”

  “We will come up with a story,” said Pepe, “like the detectives do on TV.”

  “Like what?”

  “We will say that I was pining away with amor for Siren Song and pulled you here against your will.” He began barking and scratching at the door.

  “Well, that is certainly true,” I said.

  “Remember, you must pretend surprise when you see Ted!” Pepe advised me as the door swung open. It was not Rebecca, but Luis, Rebecca’s hunky bodyguard and Siren Song’s dance partner.

  “Where’s Rebecca?” I started, but then remembered our cover story. “Pepe wanted to play, and I thought I’d see if Siren Song was available. They play so well together.”

  “If only,” said Pepe in a dreamy voice before hurrying past Luis and down the hall. I followed Pepe and Luis followed me.

  “Rebecca’s in a meeting,” he said as we entered the living room, with its bank of windows overlooking a terrace. Rebecca was sitting in an armchair with a drink in her hand, and Ted was sitting across from her, his knees almost touching hers, leaning in, addressing her in passionate tones. He looked up, saw me, and broke off.

  “Geri!” said Rebecca, turning her head and spotting me. “What are you doing here?”

  “Pepe!” I said, holding out my hands as if to say, “What can you do with a dog like Pepe?” Of course, Pepe was nowhere around, so it didn’t help my credibility.

  “Well, this is a private conversation,” Rebecca said. She looked at Ted, then back at me. “I have to meet with all of the choreographers every night to work out the plan for the next day’s dances.”

  “I thought that was a decision made by the dance instructor working with the team,” I said, trying to prolong the conversation.

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” Rebecca said, setting down her glass. “It’s reality TV.” She gave a short laugh, looked at Ted, and shook her head. She held up a thick sheaf of paper that had been lying in her lap and tapped it with her fingernail. “It’s all scripted.”

  “Hollywood, baby,” said Ted, leaning back in his chair. He seemed like an entirely different person. Gone was the earnest activist. Now his lip actually curled. Was he putting on an act for Rebecca? Or had he been putting on an act for me earlier?

  Pepe came running into the room with Siren Song at his heels. I wanted him to hear what Rebecca had just told me.

  “So it’s not random?” I asked. “The assignments?”

  Rebecca laughed. “No. We figure that all out ahead of time.”

  “How?” I asked.

  “When the little dog comes into the room with the tags for you to choose your dance, all the tags have the same dance on them,” she said. “We’ve already assigned it. We just change all the tags each time he enters a room.”

  “What else?” I asked. “The costumes? The dance routines? The judges’ scores?”

  “Well, obviously some of it we can’t dictate,” Rebecca said. “The accidents are sometimes the best bits.”

  “Like a fight between two dogs?” I asked, thinking of what Jake had told me.

  “Hmmm,” said Rebecca. “That’s an interesting idea.” She winked at Ted.

  “Do you mean the whole show is fixed?” Pepe asked. He was so indignant he had momentarily forgotten about Siren Song.

  “I can’t believe you would do that!” I said.

  “Come on, Geri,” said Ted. “It’s reality TV. You don’t think those shows are real, do you?”

  “And this is just a pilot,” said Rebecca. “We want to manage the results so the show has a real chance of being picked up.”

  “What about the winner?” I asked. “Do you already know who will win?”

  Rebecca smiled, a strange, smug smile. “Actually we don’t know that,” she said. “We’re still in negotiations.”

  “What do you mean negotiations?” I asked.

  “Let’s just say, money talks,” Rebecca said. “Now run along.” She snapped her fingers, and Siren Song ran over to her. Rebecca picked her up and put her on her lap. “I have business to conduct.”

  “What does she mean negotiating?” Pepe asked as Luis whisked us out the door.

  “I’m not sure,” I said, “but I think she meant that she might sell the win to whoever pays the most money.”

  “That is outrageous!” Pepe said as we headed up the stairs to our room. But by the time he had settled down on the pillow on top of the bed, he had changed his attitude. “Is there any way we can raise a large sum of money, Geri?”

  I thought about that. Pepe knew I had spent most of the money we had earned on our last case catching up on my mortgage payments. But if Pepe truly belonged to Caprice, and she gave me a reward for returning him to her, well, that would certainly be enough to make sure Pepe won Dancing with Dogs. I wondered. If it was a choice between fame or me, which would he choose?

  Chapter 16

  I went to call room service and noticed the red message light on my telephone. I picked it up, hoping it was Felix. But it was a message from my counselor, Susanna, calling from Seattle: “Geri, I’m worried about you. You promised to check in with me every day, and I haven’t heard from you. I’ll give you my cell phone number. Please call me as soon as you get this message!”

  Oops! I had been so busy with the show and investigating, my life in Seattle seemed like a dream. I called the cell phone number, and Susanna answered on the second ring.

  “Geri! How are you?”

  “I’m fine,” I said.

  “I was so worried when I didn’t hear from you.” She sounded relieved.

  “I’ve been a little distracted,” I said.

  “Why is that?”

  “Well, did you hear about the murder?”

  “What murder?” Her voice got sharp.

  “Nigel St. Nigel.”

  “The mean judge from So You Wanna Be a Star? Yes, I heard about that. What does that have to do with you?”

  “His body was found on our set. And, of course, because Pepe thinks he’s a detective . . .”

  “I am a detective,” said Pepe, looking up from his show. “Do I not have a card with my name on it?”

  “Yes, you do,” I said. “So, anyway, Pepe insisted on investigating—”

  “Is someone else in the room with you?”

  “Just Pepe.”

  “There is no ‘just’ when speaking of Pepe,” said Pepe.

  “So you are talking to him?”

  “Actually he’s talking to me.”

  There was a long silence on the other end. I thought I should break it. I was eager to address my biggest concern. “He thinks he once belonged to Caprice Kennedy, the movie star.”

  “Sí, I am certain!” said Pepe.

  “It sounds like you don’t believe him.”

  “Well, he did find his way to her house, but”—I lowered my voice to a whisper—“there are some contraindications.”

  “I do understand that word,” Pepe said in a cross voice. “And if you mean the fact that Caprice did not recognize me, that is sad but true. Luckily she seems to be coming around.” He stuck out his pink tongue and licked his nose, a gesture of satisfaction. Or maybe he was just looking for crumbs left over from his dinner. Didn’t he understand how his comments about Caprice made me feel?

  “Naturally I’m terrified. What if she reclaims him?”

  Pepe looked at me thoughtfully, then came over and sat in my lap.

  “So you are worried that your dog will leave you to live with a movie star?” Susanna asked.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “You would be abandoned again. Like when your parents died. And your ex-husband left you.”

  “That’s true.” I was thoughtful.

  “I know that’s painful to contemplate.”

  I thought about that. Was it true? That I was getting my dog mixed up with past sorrows?

  Susanna spoke up. “Geri, is there any way I can talk you into returning to Seattle? I think you have more support systems
there.”

  “No, we’re doing really well in the competition. Pepe would never leave until he wins Dancing with Dogs.”

  “Until we win!” said Pepe, giving me some credit.

  Our dance for the third day of the competition was a salsa, a dance that Pepe took to as if it had been bred into him. Our choreographer was Sofia, a sexy Latina with long brunette hair that she liked to toss around and a voluptuous body that she poured into a tight spandex jumpsuit. She adored Pepe and he adored her. He sauntered back and forth on his hind legs, wiggling his little hips left and right.

  I had a much more difficult time. My hips didn’t seem to move much at all, and apparently I was bouncing up when I was supposed to be getting down. “Think of the floor as your enemy. You are grinding him beneath your heel,” said Sofia. The music was fast and infectious. A cheerful blend of horns and strings that could drive a truck right through a brick wall. The routine involved much circling around and advancing forward and backing up for me and Pepe.

  About halfway through the rehearsal, I heard a lot of barking and growling. We dashed down the hall and saw a group of people gathered around the doorway of one of the rooms. Inside, Max, the poodle, was snarling and snapping at the German shepherd. Ted was in the room, trying to pull the German shepherd away by the hindquarters. He was shouting at the other people in the room, giving them instructions, but everyone was standing around frozen. And the poodle kept rushing at the shepherd, jaws snapping, teeth slashing.

  Jake, the Certified Animal Safety Representative, rushed in behind me. He saw Ted and stopped for a moment, startled, but then he grabbed the hind legs of the poodle.

  “Good work!” he said to Ted. “Now circle him so he can’t bite you.” They both began to walk their dogs around like wheelbarrows in big circles. The dogs kept turning their heads to snap at each other, but they couldn’t reach the other dog.

  “Whose dog is supposed to be in this room?” Jake asked.

  “It’s the shepherd’s room,” said Ted. “We were working on a routine when the poodle came dashing in.” He looked over at Rebecca, who was standing on the edge of the crowd next to Maxine, the poodle’s owner. Neither one of them seemed too concerned.