Dial C for Chihuahua (21 page)

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Authors: Waverly Curtis

BOOK: Dial C for Chihuahua
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Chapter 37
“Why are you not calling the
policía
on Mandy?” Pepe asked as I headed towards my car, with Pepe safely tucked into my purse.
“For the umpteenth time,” I told him, “Mandy using Caprice isn't really proof of anything. There are probably hundreds of women in Seattle who wear the same perfume.”
“That may be so,” he said. “But I have a gut feeling about this.”
“You sound like some TV detective.”
“
Gracias
,” he said, as usual not getting my sarcasm. “It would be too much of a coincidence that Mandy wears the same perfume. We private investigators do not trust coincidence.”
“What if it was Stewart who wears Caprice?”
“Now that is an interesting possibility, Geri. Anything is possible in Seattle.”
“Or perhaps Stewart was with the mystery woman who was running away with David and got her perfume on his hands or on his clothes,” I pointed out. “Assuming there is a mystery woman.”
“Another possibility, Geri,” said Pepe. “But again, why are we not doing something about it?”
“Like what? You want me to go to the police and tell them that my dog recognized a certain perfume on a certain person, and he has a gut feeling that they're guilty of murder?”
“Something like that.”
“Oh, for heaven's sake.” It wasn't like I didn't share his feelings about the situation; it was just that I recognized our limitations. And maybe that was it, I thought—he was a dog and I wasn't. Dogs always act like they have no limitations. Especially Chihuahuas.
Just as we reached the car, Pepe gave a little yelp. “There is something vibrating under my butt!”
“Oh,” I said. “It's my cell phone. I put it on vibrate when we arrived.”
“Answer it already,” he said. “Either that or rub it against my back. I could use a good massage.”
I opened my car door and dumped him out, along with the contents of my purse. I was afraid the phone would go to voice mail, so I didn't bother to check the screen to see who was calling. As soon as I heard the voice, I regretted that decision. It was my ex, Jeff.
“Geri,” he said. “I've got to talk to you.”
“You got me,” I said. “Talk away.”
“Hold on a minute,” he said. The line went silent as he put me on hold.
That was typical of Jeff. His needs always came first.
I was about to hang up when he came back on.
“So how soon can you get here?”
“Why would I come see you?”
“I've got something important to discuss with you, and I don't want to talk about it on the phone.”
Oh, really. “Why not?” I asked.
“Look, I can't talk right now. I'm late for a meeting. Can you come to my office?”
“I'm busy, too.”
“It will only take a few minutes.”
And then he was gone. He hadn't even waited for me to reply. He just assumed I would come running when he called. And to tell the truth, he was right. The suggestion that he had something so important to tell me that he had to speak to me in person intrigued me.
He had told me he had fallen in love with someone else on the telephone. And he informed me he was getting married via e-mail. So I couldn't imagine what was so important that he needed to speak to me in person. But I was going to find out. I got in the car and headed for Bellevue.
 
 
Jeff's office was in one of the new high-rises in downtown Bellevue, a quick trip across the lake. Pepe quivered in my purse as the elevator gave us a stomach-dropping ride to the twenty-fifth floor.
“If this is what it is like to be an astronaut,” he said, “I will take it off my to-do list.”
You knew you were out of your price range as soon as you got off the elevator. The wide hallway was covered with the best wool carpet money could buy. The walls were paneled in rich, inlaid burl veneers. And everywhere you looked, you saw shiny brass fittings—moldings, picture frames, door handles, and lighting fixtures.
Jeff's company took up half of the entire floor. You gained entry through a pair of double-wide, opaque glass doors, beside which an engraved brass plaque displayed the company name:
B
ECKWORTH
& T
ROUT
—I
NSURANCE
U
NDERWRITERS
—
L
IFE
& C
ASUALTY
/C
OMMERCIAL
& M
ARINE
.
Jeff had done well with the MBA I had paid for. Made upper-level management in his first year with the company. Was slated to go even higher. He had a corner office with a view out across Lake Washington.
His new secretary, the one who had replaced Amber, ushered us into his office. Kathy was a sour-faced, middle-aged woman with frizzy hair, buckteeth, and a leathery complexion. (I was pretty sure Amber had picked her out.) Kathy ushered us into Jeff's office and left us sitting on the brown leather sofa, facing Jeff's imposing desk of burnished cherry wood. Jeff was nowhere to be seen, of course. “In a meeting,” she told us. “He'll be with you shortly.”
I sat there, looking at his framed diploma on the wall, the one he had earned while I slaved away at the waste disposal plant, and told myself, Geri, you shouldn't feel envious or bitter. After all, Jeff has nothing but success, a beautiful house on the Eastside, a big salary, a fancy sports car, and a beautiful (if vapid) fiancée. You have . . . well, a talking dog.
As if reading my mind, Pepe said, “Geri, your ex-mate seems to have done very well for himself. He has a handsome car, a glamorous girlfriend, and it appears from this office, an important position. But he does not have, well,
me
.”
I had to laugh. The little guy cheered me up. I gave him a pat on the head and said, “Thanks,
amigo
.”
 
 
Jeff walked in looking rather dapper in an expensive tan suit and an eggplant-colored linen shirt. He looked at me, and he looked at Pepe, then he went out to his secretary's desk. I could hear him having words with her, probably about Pepe, because that was where he started when he came back into the office.
“Do you take that dog with you everywhere you go?” he asked.
“His name is Pepe, and yes,” I said.
“Tell him I'm your partner,” Pepe said.
“I can't leave him alone in the house because of Albert,” I added. I hoped that would make Jeff feel guilty. Jeff chuckled. “Yes, I suppose Albert would make short work of that dog.” He was proud of Albert's prowess. When we lived together, Albert was always bringing home dead birds and mice. I didn't point out that Albert always brought them to me, not to Jeff. I wasn't really too happy about it at the time.
“Hey, tell him it was I who vanquished the cowardly cat!” Pepe said, puffing up his chest a little and strutting back and forth on the sofa, tossing his head.
“I don't suppose you called me up to lecture me about my dog,” I said.
“No.” Jeff buzzed Kathy and asked her to shut the door to his office. That was typical of him. He couldn't be bothered to get up from his desk and shut it himself. “Hold my phone calls, too!” he added.
I wondered what was so important that he had summoned me to his workplace. Was he thinking of breaking up with Amber and asking me to try again? I hated it that my mind even went there. More likely he was going to ask me what sort of present to buy her for their first anniversary. Jeff was that clueless.
Pepe had jumped down and was sniffing around the desk.
“Keep him away from me!” said Jeff, with a slightly hysterical tone in his voice.
“Oh, it's about the shoes, isn't it?” I asked.”I can write you a check right now, if that's what you want.”
“No, it's not about the shoes,” Jeff said. “In fact, you can forget about paying me for them. I want you to quit your job.”
Chapter 38
“You've got a lot of nerve!” I said. Pepe had stopped in his tracks and was looking at me quizzically. Then I added, “Which job?”
“Oh,” said Jeff. “Are you still doing staging?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact I just got a new project. For a guy with a multimillion dollar home in Laurelhurst.”
“That's good,” Jeff said. “But I meant your PI job.”
“Why would I quit that?” I asked.
“Yes, why would we?” asked Pepe, staring at Jeff's shoes.
“I think it is dangerous for you,” he said.
I have to admit I felt a twinge of affection. He obviously still cared for me if he was worrying about me. Then again, he was being as condescending and controlling as ever. I hadn't realized how demoralizing it was to live with someone who was always telling me what to do until after we broke up. “Well, I appreciate your concern,” I said, “but I can take care of myself.”
“Tell him I take care of you!” Pepe piped up.
“Hush!” I said, “I can take care of myself,” I told him, both of them, firmly.
“If it's because you need money, I can loan you some,” Jeff said.
“That's generous of you,” I started. Then I realized that he was offering me money that would have been mine if he hadn't divorced me.
“No,” I said. “It's not the money.”
“It's the adventure, the thrill of the chase, the satisfaction of knowing we have made the world a safer place,” said Pepe.
“Wow! You really have been watching too much TV,” I said.
“What?” That was Jeff.
“Sorry. It just sounded like a line from a TV show,” I said. “I don't want your money, Jeff. I'm fine.”
“Look, I'm not suggesting you quit your job,” he said, standing up. “I'm ordering you to quit.”
I stood up, too. “You can't order me to do anything,” I said.
Pepe looked at Jeff and growled.
“It's for your own good,” Jeff said.
“I am not a child,” I said. Unfortunately, my voice got a little high and squeaky. It always does that when I'm mad, which undercuts the effect I'm trying to have. “You don't get to tell me what's good for me. I decide that myself.”
“Yes, if anyone is going to tell her what to do, it is me!” said Pepe.
“Oh, hush!” I said. “You can't tell me what to do either.”
“Look, Geri . . .” Jeff came to the side of the desk, but Pepe was standing at my feet growling so fiercely that Jeff didn't dare to come any closer. “I'm not trying to tell you what to do. I'm trying to protect you from getting involved in something that's illegal. I'm afraid you're in danger.”
“What?” said Pepe, perking up at the word
danger
.
“Yes, what?” I asked.
“Let's just say this.” Jeff lowered his voice as if his office could be bugged. “There's something funny going on at the Gerrard Agency. I don't want you there if the police raid the place. You could end up in jail for a long time.”
“Good grief, Jeff!” I almost shouted. “You can't get me to back off a job to which I've made a commitment [that was a dig], when I've finally found something that fulfills me on so many levels [OK, that was another dig], by hinting at raids and jail. Either tell me what's going on, or I'm out of here. Right now!”
“You tell him, Geri!” Pepe looked up at me with admiration and added a menacing growl.
“OK, OK,” said Jeff, motioning for me to sit down again. “You are so stubborn!” He glared at me. My “stubbornness” was one of his chief complaints when we were married. It just meant I wasn't doing what he wanted me to do. “I can see I'm going to have to give you more information.” He leaned across his desk. “Do you know the term Ponzi scheme?”
“Isn't that like a pyramid scheme?” I asked.
“Yes,” said Jeff. “An operator, under the guise of offering an extraordinary return on investments, uses the money of later investors to pay off early investors, but there's never any real investment, and eventually the scheme collapses.”
“Like Bernie Madoff,” Pepe said.
“How do you know that?” I asked.
“You can learn a lot from daytime TV,” Pepe said.
“After Don mentioned his investment with the Gerrards, I got curious and did some investigating of my own,” Jeff said. “It took a while to figure it out. There were all kinds of shell companies and bogus boards, but I finally traced it back to him.”
“I don't think Jimmy G. is capable—”
“Not the younger brother. The older one. Stewart. As far as I can tell, he just uses the detective agency for money laundering. It operates at a loss, so he doesn't have to pay any taxes.”
“What about Don and Cheryl's money?”
“I'm worried about that. I called Don this morning and told him to get his money out before the whole thing collapses. I'm not going to go to the authorities until he's recouped his investment. Once the police get involved, Gerrard's assets will be frozen. It might take years to get it sorted out and pay back the investors.”
“Oh,” I said, “but I know someone else who has money invested with Stewart—Rebecca Tyler.” It made sense now that Stewart was putting her off for a few days. He didn't have the money she needed and he was trying to buy time. “She should get her money out, too.”
“You can't warn her,” said Jeff. “If you do, that might alert Stewart to the fact that we're on to him.”
“Then what will happen to
Dancing with Dogs
?” Pepe asked. He sounded wistful.
“But she needs the money desperately,” I said. I decided not to tell Jeff what she was going to use it for. He would probably consider it frivolous.
“Where's your loyalty, Geri?” Jeff asked. “To your sister? Or some woman who, for all you know, killed her own husband? That's who usually does it, you know. The wife!”
“Yes, I know,” I said, “and I can see why!” I glared at him.
“All I'm asking you to do is to keep this information confidential. Don't go into the office for a few days. Wait until I tell you the coast is clear. Then you can do anything you want.”
His phone rang. He glanced at the screen, then picked it up. “Yes, darling. I've got the tickets.” Then a pause and, “I'll pick it up on my way home.”
While he responded to Amber's demands, I pondered his demand. For some reason it did not sit right with me. I thought of both Jimmy G. and Rebecca and realized that I felt more loyalty to them than I felt to Don and Cheryl. My sister and her husband had been greedy and wanted to get an extraordinary return on their investment. But Rebecca was an innocent victim of her husband's misplaced trust. And what would happen to Jimmy G. if his brother's empire collapsed?
“What do you think, Pepe?” I asked.
“It is not for me to decide,” he said. “This is a choice you must make on your own, Geri. But I hope you will make the right one.” And that was all he would say on the matter.

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