The Silence of the Chihuahuas (15 page)

“Don't worry, Doc,” said the man, his voice gruff. “I'm going to have a serious conversation with Miss Sullivan.”

“Conversation?” Lieberman sounded exasperated. “You better have more than a conversation with her. I've cooperated with you. I expect some cooperation in return.”

“Like I said, Doc, no worries.”

Lieberman frowned, shook his head, and stalked off.

I studied the man for a moment. Somewhere in his mid-forties, he had salt and pepper hair cut in an old-fashioned crew-cut, and was more than six feet tall, with a stocky build.

“Who are you?” I asked him.

“U. S. Marshall,” he told me, opening his coat a bit, to reveal a shiny badge clipped to his belt next to his holstered pistol.

“A Marshall? Why are you—”

“Your sister. Teri Sullivan.”

“Teri? Why—”

“Look, here's how it lays out, short and sweet. You need to keep your nose out of this. Your sister's under our protection. She's a material witness in a trial against a crime boss. Trial's coming up in a couple of days. She was safe and secure here until you started meddling.”

“What do you mean?”

“We think you were followed here to Forest Glen, Miss Sullivan. There was an attempt to break into the cottage where your sister was staying. We had to move her immediately. These are career criminals who are after her. We've been working to take them down for years. And we finally have a chance. But they'll stop at nothing to keep her from talking. So lay off. Got it?”

“Can I talk to Teri at least?”

“You don't know when to stop, do you? The less you know, the better. If you persist in looking for your sister, I'll put you in protective custody, too, until this is all over. And not a word about this to anyone else.”

“OK, OK,” I said. “I understand.”

“Good.” He smiled for the first time. “Bear in mind, you're very likely in danger yourself.”

I thought about Amber and knew he was right.

“Speaking of that,” I said, “you might want to know about the kidnapping.”

“Kidnapping?”

“Yes, my ex-husband's runaway bride, Amber Trout.”

“Hold on!” said the Marshall, putting his hand up, palm out. “Tell me the whole story from the beginning.”

So I tried to explain. He didn't seem to get the part about the man and the fish and the bicycle but that was OK. He did get the gist of it.

“So you said the Bellevue police have been notified?”

“I think so,” I said. “I left to try to find Teri and ended up being admitted and then tranquilized and—”

The Marshall cut me off. “How did they contact you to make the ransom demand?”

‘My cell phone,” I said.

“I'm going to need that!” he said. “Have they called again?”

“I don't know,” I said, horror-stricken. “I had to give up my cell phone when they admitted me here.”

Luckily, Lacey who was at the front desk got permission from Dr. Lieberman to return my personal belongings. The cell phone was locked in a drawer in the reception area. Lacey had to send over to Serenity to have them bring the rest of my belongings.

The phone started ringing as soon as I turned it on. It was Felix. In fact, he had called more than twenty times. But there were no calls from unknown numbers.

“I've got to get this,” I told the Marshall.

“Geri!” Felix's voice was frantic. “Where are you? What happened to you? I've been calling all night. I was about to report you missing.”

I sighed. It was nice to know that someone missed me.

“I'm so sorry,” I said. “I ended up getting admitted to a psychiatric clinic and they wouldn't let me use my phone. Will you come and get me?”

Felix's voice was dubious. “They let you go? Already?”

“Hey,” I said, trying to keep my voice light, “It's not like I'm crazy or anything.”

I saw Lacey's eyebrows go up at that.

“Where are you?” he said.

“Forest Glen.” I gave him the address and some general instructions about how to find the place.

“I'll leave right away,” he promised. I breathed a sigh of relief. Felix to the rescue! Now all I had to do was get dressed and find my dog.

The Marshall took my phone with a stern warning that I was not to further involve myself in what was turning out to be a Federal case. I tried to follow him out the door so I could look for Pepe, but Lacey stopped me.

“You can't leave until you have your final interview,” she said. She sent me upstairs to talk to Dr. Lieberman. He was sorting some papers in a file on his desk when I entered.

He looked up. “You're no longer a patient here, Miss Sullivan, so I shouldn't be giving you advice, but I want to let you know that in my professional opinion, your dog is the focus of your psychological issues. You might want to consider getting rid of him.”

“Getting rid of Pepe? That's unthinkable.”

Lieberman shook his head. “I don't think you'll ever get better until you lose the dog,” he said. “You have an unhealthy attachment to him.”

“Well, he's lost now, and I want him back.” I said.

Lieberman shrugged. “You're free to go. We can't hold you against your will. Of course, you'll receive a bill for the services we provided while you were here.” He went over to the file cabinet and pulled out some papers. “I'm going to fill out your discharge papers. I'll bring them down to the reception desk for you to sign.”

I headed back to the reception desk to get my personal belongings from Lacey. She handed me a plastic bag with my name written across it with a Sharpie. I peeked inside and saw the rumpled, stained wedding dress.

“I can't wear this,” I said.

Lacey shrugged. “Our monogrammed bathrobes are available for purchase. We can add the cost to your bill. They're only $99.”

“Never mind,” I said, thinking I would not want to be caught dead in a bright-blue terrycloth bathrobe that reminded me of my stay at Forest Glen. “I'll put on the wedding dress. Where can I change?”

Lacey pointed down the hall toward the wing that contained the spa. Clutching my purse in one hand and the wedding dress in the other, I scurried down the hall, opening several doors. Sauna. Steam room. Isolation Tank. Where was the bathroom? Although I supposed I could use any of the rooms to change. They were all empty at this early hour of the day.

I ducked inside the room containing the isolation tank, shrugged off the blue bathrobe and wriggled into the soggy, smelly wedding dress. I looked for my black heels, but they weren't in the bag.

Clutching my belongings, I was heading back to the reception desk when I heard a gunshot, the sound of breaking glass, a scream. Then loud voices.

“Where is she?” A deep male voice.

Then Dr. Lieberman's voice. “Who are you and what do you think you are doing?”

“I'm looking for Geri Sullivan,” said the first voice.

“How dare you! Get out of here!” said Lieberman. It was nice that he was standing up for me.

But then I heard a grunt and a shriek and a thud. What was happening now? Had the intruder killed Dr. Lieberman? Knocked him over the head?

“Where is she?” It was the first voice again, the gruff voice.

“I don't know,” squeaked Lacey. “Please don't hurt me!”

“Is she in the building?”

“She was here,” Lacey squeaked, “but she left.” Nice that she was standing up for me too.

“Show me where she went!” commanded the man.

Lacey gave a little shriek that was cut off abruptly.

The next thing I knew I heard footsteps coming in my direction. A heavy tread and a shuffling noise, like maybe a body was being dragged.

I ducked back into the isolation tank room and looked for a place to hide. But the only thing in the room was the isolation tank. It was a long box. It almost reminded me of a coffin, except that it was made of white plastic. A sign above it read: A
TTENDANT
MUST BE PRESENT AT ALL TIMES
. How I wished there was an attendant.

The cover of the tank was angled upward to reveal a slanted opening through which I could see about three feet of water. I jumped in, clutching my two plastic bags. The water was warm, just about skin temperature.

I heard doors being flung open in the hall. I pulled the lid to the isolation tank shut. Darkness. Darkness and warmth. I didn't want to lie down in the water—I felt too vulnerable—but the shape of the thing made it impossible for me to crouch near the back as I wished, just in case the man who was searching for me thought to open the lid of the tank. I put the plastic bag on my stomach and floated. I felt strangely at peace, even though my dog was missing and someone who wanted to kill me was only a few inches away. I couldn't hear anything. Just a soothing, thumping sound that I eventually realized was the beating of my heart.

Eons went by. Galaxies were born and died and born again. I read the fate of mankind in the labyrinth of lights that danced in front of my closed eyes.

I don't know how much time had passed, but at some point I was roused enough from my peaceful contemplation of the meaning of life to consider that I might want to leave the womb-like shelter of the isolation tank. I reached out my hand, ever so languidly to push the lid open, just a crack, to see if I was ready to be reborn into a chaotic world, and the darn thing wouldn't budge.

I pushed again, harder, and nothing happened. I took both hands and shoved, and nothing.
Nada
.

It began to sink in: the sign that read A
TTENDANT
M
UST
B
E
P
RESENT.
Apparently, it was not possible to open the isolation tank from the inside. I freaked out. I shrieked. I pounded on the lid. So what if the goon with the gun heard me? At least I would be out of my watery tomb. But even as my cries faded away in the muffled interior I realized that the isolation tank was soundproof. No one could hear me. No one knew that I was trapped inside.

My brain was working feverishly. Was Lacey still alive? Did she know where I was? What would happen when Felix came to pick me up? Would they find me then? And, most of all, where was my dog? My champion, my partner? Never again would I allow myself to be separated from him. Forget Dr. Lieberman.

I curled up in a ball and wept quietly.

And then I heard scrabbling at the edges of the lid. A thump and it flew back. I cowered back. I closed my eyes. The light was so bright. I heard voices, a medley of voices. They grated on my hushed ears. And then I heard the voice I was most longing to hear calling my name: “Geri!”

“Pepe!” I shouted and rose from my lukewarm bath, in my dripping wet wedding gown, to grab my little dog, his pink ears just visible over the edge of the isolation tank.

“Geri!” he said again, licking my face. “You taste like the Dead Sea. Did I ever tell you about my trip to Jerusalem?”

“Don't be ridiculous,” I said, and then realized there were several other people in the room.

One was Felix. He was taking in my wet wedding dress with distress in his eyes. Behind him, I saw Lacey and Dr. Lieberman. But no goon with a gun.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Your dog took down the bad guy with the gun,” said Lacey. Her eyes were shining. “He was so brave. The guy had me in a headlock and was dragging me down the hall, making me open all the doors with his gun trained on me. Your dog came flying out of nowhere and bit his wrist, so that he dropped the gun. Then the other guy—”

“The Marshall,” said Dr. Lieberman.

“Came running in and cuffed him.”

“But then we couldn't find you,” Dr. Lieberman said.

“I thought maybe you had escaped through the side door,” Lacey said.

“But your dog kept coming and scratching on this door, so finally we opened up the door and then your dog scratched at the tank, and so we opened the lid and there you were!”

“I take back everything I said about your dog,” said Dr. Lieberman. “Obviously you two deserve each other.”

I wasn't sure what he meant by that last sentence, but it didn't matter.

“What did he say about me?” Pepe asked.

“That you are the bravest, smartest best partner any girl could have,” I said, kissing him between his ears.

“That's when I arrived,” said Felix, clearly wanting to be part of the story. “But why are you wearing a wedding dress?”

“It's a long story,” I said, “and I'll tell you in the car. I just want to get out of here.” I was shivering.

“I think we should give her a complimentary bathrobe,” Lacey said to Dr. Lieberman.

 

 

So I signed the discharge papers and got into Felix's car in my bright blue Forest Glen velour bathrobe with Velcro fastenings. The wedding dress went into the plastic bag. Pepe rode cuddled in my arms, and Felix, who usually insists the dogs who travel in his car must travel in crates in the back, did not say a word. I think he was a little miffed that I called out Pepe's name before his.

I only had about thirty minutes to tell Felix everything that had happened as he drove me back to my car, which was still parked in the parking lot at the Bellevue Country Club. It seemed like another day entirely although it had been less than twenty-four hours since the aborted wedding ceremony. I was so glad that the Marshalls were going to take over the search for Amber. Even if it did mean giving up my cell phone.

“But what about you?” I asked Felix, who was shaking his head. “How was your day yesterday?”

Felix laughed. It was actually something between a snort and a laugh. “I thought it was pretty exciting,” he said, “until I heard what you were up to . . .”

“The things we were doing,” said Pepe. “We were saving lives!”

“So what happened? Did you get the job?” I asked. As a good girlfriend I wanted the answer to be
yes
, because I knew Felix deserved success. As a bad girlfriend, I wanted the answer to be
no
, so he would stay in Seattle.

“We don't know yet,” said Felix. “There was a little glitch. The first dog we lined up didn't work out. So they're looking for a new dog to film.”

“So you're still filming?”

“Yes. The plan is to shoot today. And look at the rough edit tonight at Rebecca's house. They'll probably announce their decision then. I really want you to be there. I was calling to tell you about that and then . . .”

His voice trailed off.

“I wasn't answering my phone,” I said. “They took it away from me at Forest Glen.”

“At first, I thought you were just having a good time at the wedding,” he said, “but then when you still weren't home at 2 a.m. and then at 3 a.m., well, I started to get worried. . . .”

I could see by the look on his face that he wasn't so much worried about my whereabouts but about who I had been with.

“You did not need to worry,” said Pepe. “I can take care of her very well.”

“You didn't take care of me when I needed you,” I said, thinking of how he had run off.

“I'm sorry, Geri,” said Felix. “I felt I had an obligation. Rebecca had set up the whole shoot around my schedule.”

“Oh, no, not you,” I said. I wouldn't expect him to give up his career just to attend a wedding with me. Would I? That would be so shallow. “I was talking to Pepe.”

“Did they cure him of his talking at Forest Glen?” He was trying to bring a note of levity into a serious conversation.

“Actually he started talking again,” I said, “and I am so happy about it.”

“Did he tell you why he stopped?”

“Yes, he said he was worried because everybody thought I was crazy.”

“Oh, so getting admitted to Forest Glen solved that problem,” Felix said with a laugh.

“Yes, now everyone knows I am officially crazy!” I said.

I promised to call Felix as soon as I got back to my house. He was on his way back to Rebecca's, but he was clearly worried about me. I don't think he completely believed my story or that I should be wandering around on my own.

 

 

I was so happy to get home and get out of the blue bathrobe and into regular clothes. I took a quick shower and put on a pair of black sweat pants, a tank top and my favorite fuzzy sweater. Perfect for lounging at home. I wasn't going anywhere.

Pepe had polished off his bowl of dry food and gone racing into the living room to work on his iPpad. I swear that dog is addicted to his technology. Albert the Cat had been furious when Pepe and I walked in the door. He kept up a volley of angry meows.

“If you don't watch it,” I told him, while pouring some more kibbles into his bowl, “I'll give you back to Jeff.”

That reminded me. I needed to call Jeff and find out if Amber had been returned.

Jeff said that the FBI had taken over and the whole thing was out of their hands. He sounded frantic. “What if they mess it up?” he said. And then, “This is all your fault.” I hung up on him.

But I did think I should call Jimmy G and see if he had learned anything new during his stakeout.

“Geri! Thank God you called!” said Jimmy G when I dialed his number.

“What?”

“Jimmy G was worried about you,” he said. “Jimmy G was calling your cell phone and this man kept answering and saying Jimmy G should stop calling. Something about an official investigation.”

“The Marshalls took my phone away,” I said. “They took over the investigation and they told me to stop looking for my sister. Did you learn something?”

“Jimmy G learned that he can bowl better at around four stiff drinks.”

“Anything about the kidnapping?” I asked, annoyed.

“No,” said Jimmy G. “There was some action last night. A couple of big guys, built like tanks, came in and talked to a little old man in a pork pie hat who was sitting in a booth on the bar side. He gave them some money and they left. I tried to follow them but by the time I paid my bill and got out to the parking lot, they were gone.”

“I bet those were the two goons who showed up at Forest Glen!” I said.

“Someone came to the loony bin looking for you?”

“Yeah, but it was OK. Brad saved me at the cottage and Pepe and the Marshall took down the guy who busted into the main building.” I paused. “Sounds like the guy in the pork pie hat might know something.” Then I frowned as I heard what I was saying. “Who wears a pork pie hat anymore? That's so old school.”

“Mobsters,” said Jimmy G. “Good guys wear fedoras.”

“Whatever.” I really didn't think sartorial choices could help you identify criminals. “Are you going back there?”

“Sure. Got to work on my bowling score,” said Jimmy G. “But that's not why Jimmy G is glad you called. That old lady has been bugging me. Calling all morning. Every five minutes. She's freaking out.”

“Mrs. Snelson?”

“Yes, you've got to call her. ASAP. Get her off Jimmy G's back.”

“Will do.”

“Thanks, doll.”

As soon as Jimmy G hung up, I called Mrs. Snelson.

“Oh, I'm so grateful you called,” Mrs. Snelson said. “I've been calling your cell phone since early this morning and I keep getting some gentleman who tells me that it is out of service and I should not call the number again. I was so worried about you, dear.”

“I'm OK, Mrs. Snelson,” I said. “That's a U.S. Marshall and he's helping me on another case.”

“Oh, my!” she said. “Do you think he would be available to help you on my case? It's gotten much more desperate.”

“What happened?”

“I woke up this morning to find that someone had entered my apartment while I was asleep and covered my bed with rose petals.”

“Oh!” I said. And then added, “I could see how that might be upsetting.”

“I want you and Pepe here right away!” she said.

“You can help me catch this fiend.” And then she added, “I'll make you a lovely hot breakfast. How do you like your eggs, dear?”