Chihuahua of the Baskervilles (4 page)

“Thank you, dear.” Charlotte took the phone from her. “Cheri, these are the people from
Tripping
magazine.” To Angus, she said, “This is my granddaughter, Cheri Baskerville. She’s helping with the photography for Petey’s Closet. I need to take this call, but I’ll find you afterward and we’ll talk.”

“Whatever’s most convenient for you.”

Charlotte turned toward the workshop. “Ellen! Could you show Mr. MacGregor and his staff the upstairs parlor and help them get settled?”

Ellen had just reached the door to the workshop. Her shoulders slumped. “Coming.” She turned back to join them.

Charlotte was already speaking into the phone. “Barbara? Did you get the corrected copy I sent you?” She disappeared into the house.

Cheri Baskerville wore sexy jeans and a dark blue blouse that showed the tops of her small breasts. Her brunette hair, cut in wispy layers, accentuated her long neck and large, dark eyes. The scent of strawberry perfume wafted around her.

Angus smiled benignly at her. “You must be very talented, to already be working on the catalog. Are you taking photography in high school?”

“I’m twenty.”

Angus’s face fell. “I’m so sorry. Young people look younger every year to someone my age.”

Cheri smiled suddenly, dispelling the image of a sullen teen. “That’s okay. It happens a lot. You’re here about Petey, right?”

Angus beamed at her. “We are. Have you had any paranormal experiences?”

She nodded. “We had a poltergeist when I was little.”

Michael raised his notebook. “Was that in this house?”

“No.” Cheri’s gaze traveled to Suki, who stood slightly behind the others. “Oh, my God. Where did you get that jacket?”

Suki adjusted the turned-up sleeves of her leather jacket, which was lined in wine-colored satin. “Paris, I think. Or Amsterdam. That whole trip is kind of a blur.”

Ellen patted Cheri on the shoulder. “You’ll get a chance to talk to them later. They’ll be interviewing everyone.”

Cheri’s full mouth twisted slightly. “Sorry. Didn’t know I was hogging them.”

“I didn’t mean—,” Ellen began.

“Don’t worry about it.” Cheri turned, coming chest to chest with Ivan before going inside.

Ellen turned back to the others. “If you’ll come this way, please?”

She led them upstairs and waved a hand at the doors on either side of the hallway. “These are mostly staff bedrooms, so please don’t go into those rooms.” She pushed open the second door on the left. “This is my bathroom, but guests can use it, too.”

“How many of you live here?” Michael asked.

“In addition to Charlotte and Thomas? Me, Ivan, and Cheri.”

“How long have you been here?”

“And have you ever seen a ghost?” Angus added, giving Michael a pointed look.

“I’ve worked with Charlotte for seven years—almost since the beginning of the business. And I’ve never seen a ghost.” Ellen walked to the second-to-last door on the left, which was open. “Here’s the upstairs parlor. You can use this room to work in. I hope it has enough outlets.”

They entered a pretty room decorated with Victorian antiques. Upholstery and drapes in shades of rose and pastel blue gave it a feminine look.

Angus pointed to a door between two bookcases. “I assume we should keep that closed?”

Ellen nodded. “That door leads to Charlotte’s bedroom, and she usually keeps it locked. This room is really part of her suite, but she lets anyone use it.” She edged toward the hall. “Do you want me to send Ivan up for an interview?”

“Thank you, but I think we’ll bring some equipment up first,” Angus said. “We’ll find him.”

“All right. I’ll be in the workshop if you need me.”

They went down to Angus’s car and were unloading the rest of Suki’s equipment when the tinny sound of a cell phone made Angus reach for his pocket.

“Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’ is your ring tone?” Michael snorted.

Angus looked at the screen. “It’s Pendergast.” He flipped open the phone. “Len? We’re all here, so I’m going to put you on speaker.” He walked away from the Baskerville house, gesturing for the others to follow him.

“How’s it going?” Pendergast asked.

“It’s certainly an interesting household.” Angus reached the sidewalk on the other side of the narrow, quiet street.

“Interesting is right,” Len said. “And how ’bout that town? They say you can’t take a midnight piss in Manitou without running into a ghost.”

Michael pulled his notebook from his pocket and leaned toward the phone. “Who says that?”

“I do, but it’s good, don’t you think? Use it in the article.”

“Len…” Angus dropped his voice and held the phone closer to his mouth. “You didn’t mention the fox in the henhouse.”

“They have hens?”

“Thomas Baskerville. I thought he was going to kick us out, and he doesn’t seem happy about his wife’s business.”

“Oh. Right. My wife is a little worried about Charlotte, if you want to know the truth. Apparently Thomas is making noises about having the old girl put away.”

“Charlotte seemed smart as a whip to me,” Angus said. “What possible grounds could he have for saying she’s incapable?”

“On the grounds of seeing a ghost and dressing up dogs.”

Angus shook his head. “He’s got an uphill battle.”

“I don’t think he has a chance in hell, but it’s an exciting story, isn’t it? Cute little old lady married to an asshole. Stay away from anything libelous, of course, but you can get the idea across without using the word
asshole,
right?”

Angus rolled his eyes. “We’ll see what we can do.”

“That’s great. Well, I just wanted to check in. Go work your magic, big guy.”

Five

Charlotte was still on the phone when the staff of
Tripping
was ready to begin interviewing, so Angus decided to talk to Ivan first.

He and Michael took their places on a settee in the upstairs parlor. Across from them, Ivan straightened one leg, achieving a negligent he-man look despite the fussy Victorian chair in which he sat.

Michael started his recorder, then set it on the low table between them before nodding to Angus.

“Full name?” Angus prompted. “And may I ask where your accent is from?”

“Ivan Blotski. I am from Russia. Siberia.”

Angus nodded. “Why do you think Petey’s ghost appeared?”

Ivan stroked his upper lip with two fingers. “Ghosts appear for two reasons—to harm or to warn. Petey would not harm Charlotte, so maybe she needs checkup at doctor or is considering bad investment.” He grinned. “Maybe Petey warns her not to pass up chance of working with super successful Russian TV star.”

“You train Mrs. Baskerville’s dogs,” Angus said. “Have you always worked with Chihuahuas?”

Ivan chortled and stood. “Let me show you something.”

Angus and Michael followed him into the hall, Michael carrying his recorder.

Ivan pushed open the door of his room and stood aside to let the two men enter. “This is what Ivan was.”

Unlike the pastel tones in the rest of the Baskerville house, rich color saturated this room, along with the odor of stale cigarette smoke. A garnet velvet bedspread looked positively opulent against gold-figured wallpaper, but what really caught the eye were the posters on the walls, their leaping forms depicted in strong, inky strokes.

“Good Lord,” Angus said. “You worked with
wolves
?”

“Six years, I toured with the Trans-Siberian Circus.” Ivan pointed to the one poster that wasn’t covered in Cyrillic characters. “That one you can read. Is from engagement in London.”

Angus stepped closer. “‘Ivan Blotski and His Wonder Wolves.’” He peered at the drawing of a man down on one knee, a wolf jumping between his upstretched arms. “You had a beard then, I see.”

Ivan rubbed his clean-shaven chin. “It was required, because they did not change poster art, only performer’s name. I wore the same costume as the man before me, and kohl around my eyes.”

“And this television show you want,” Angus said. “Would that involve wolves?”

“Possibly.” Ivan’s languor disappeared. “It will be a dog-training show like no other. It will be huge.”

“What makes it like no other?” Michael asked.

“
Me.
I am exotic, being Russian, and I have trained wolves. It is a … no-brainer, but Charlotte will not make up her mind.”

“What would Charlotte have to do with it?” Michael asked.

Ivan rubbed his fingers together in the gesture for money. “I need to get teeth fixed, have media training, make demo.” He gripped the back of a worn leather chair. “Cesar Millan and his pit bulls …
Tcha!
You don’t know fear until wolf has his jaws around your neck.” He turned his head to the side and touched a patch of scarred skin below one ear.

Angus gave a low whistle. “What happened?”

Ivan shrugged. “The oldest wolf challenged me for leadership of the pack. I submitted rather than die, but when he let me go, I got my gun. I shot him, making sure the others saw.” He sighed. “For five years I considered that wolf a friend, but what could I do? It was my livelihood.”

Angus shook his head in awe. “Man, that’s one hell of a story.”

“I have many stories. You want to hear about ghosts?” Ivan’s eyelids lowered, and his voice became more guttural. “For thirteen days after I shot wolf, I woke to this sound each night at midnight.” He panted huskily, then gave a rising growl that ended in a sudden, vicious snarl.

Michael raised a hand to smooth the fine hairs on the back of his neck. “Very authentic.”

“When visiting foreign country, it helps to know the language.”

“How did you become Charlotte Baskerville’s trainer?” Angus asked.

“I came to this country for better opportunities. Got work at a wolf sanctuary.” Ivan frowned. “Sanctuary went away when someone poisoned all the wolves. One thing about Chihuahuas—people don’t think they kill cows.” He smiled wryly. “After wolf sanctuary, I set up dog-training Web site, and Charlotte found me. Her dogs were”—he laughed—“not well behaved. I train them not only to stop barking, but also to hold poses for camera. So she asks me to stay. Sometimes we do tours, events, and I help with those, too.”

“What would you do if you saw Petey’s ghost?” Angus asked.

Ivan stepped forward and clapped him on the shoulder. “If I see ghost, I will tell it to
stay,
so you can take pictures. All dogs obey Ivan, even dead ones.” He went to the door. “I need cigarette, which means I have to go outside. You want one?”

“No thank you. I’m an ex-smoker,” Angus said, as he and Michael followed Ivan into the hall. “I do want Suki to get a picture of you with that poster at some point.”

Ivan gave a sharp nod. “Is no problem.” He closed the door to his room and strolled toward the stairs.

Angus and Michael returned to the parlor.

“I hope your recorder got all that, Michael,” Angus said. “What a story!”

Michael pressed a button and listened for a moment. “Got it. Just remember, that’s probably exactly what it is—a story. He’s not the first Russian I’ve met. Let’s just say they’re prone to exaggeration.”

“Michael,” Angus chided. “Don’t tell me you’re a bigot as well as a cynic?”

“All right, forget that he’s Russian. But remember, part of every circus performer’s job is to mislead.”

“What about the pretty girls on white horses?” Angus asked. “They’re not trying to fool anyone.”

“They want you to think they’re prettier and younger than they are. Also, those horses are whitewashed.”

Angus shook his head sadly. “Jesus, Michael, I’d hate to be you.”

Suki came into the room, carrying a camera on a tripod and followed by Cheri, who looked remarkably old-fashioned in a long black coat worn over a white cotton dress.

“I got some great shots of Cheri standing in front of the workshop,” Suki said. “I think I’ll make them sepia, to bring out the texture of the stone.”

Cheri took off her coat and smiled shyly at Suki. “If you need any more, just tell me. I don’t have much to do until we start the next catalog.”

Suki removed the camera from the tripod. “If you’re serious about photography, now’s a good time to experiment with different backdrops and lighting, or practice your candids and action shots.” She placed the tripod next to the wall.

Cheri lifted one shoulder. “I guess.” She hugged the coat to her chest. “I should probably put something else on. It’s cold in here.”

Angus, who had been jotting some notes, looked up sharply. “Regular cold or
ghost cold
?”

Cheri’s eyes widened. “Oh, my God. Do you think there’s a presence in here
right now
?”

“Oh, please,” Michael muttered.

“Shhh…” Angus held a finger to his lips. In the ensuing quiet, a slight noise could be heard.

Angus raised his head slowly and studied the ornate light fixture that hung from the ceiling. “It almost sounds like screws unscrewing.”

Suki looked up from fiddling with her camera. “Why’s everyone so quiet all of a sudden?”

“That noise,” Cheri whispered. She looked around wildly. “It’s stopped now.”

Suki lifted the camera she held and rotated the lens. It squeaked and came off in her hand. “You mean this?”

Michael sighed. “Cheri, after you change into something warmer, would you like to come back here for your interview?”

“Okay.” She went out the door.

Angus gave the light fixture a disappointed look before turning to Suki. “What was Cheri wearing? She looked like something from an old photograph.”

“I put her in one of Charlotte’s nightgowns.” Suki brought the camera over and showed Angus the screen. “We have this Victorian house and a lot of antique furniture, so I thought I’d go for an old-fashioned look. I don’t know if the kid has any talent as a photographer, but she’s a natural in front of the camera.”

Angus clicked through the photos and gave a low whistle. “Brilliant.” He looked at Michael. “If your writing is half as good as these pictures, this article could see
Tripping
really take off.”

“Don’t worry about my writing,” Michael said.

Angus handed the camera back to Suki. “Ivan should be back from his smoke break. I’d like you to get a picture of him beside a poster he has in his room. He’ll show it to you.” He looked at Michael. “Could a Chihuahua jump between a man’s arms like that?”