The Big Chihuahua (19 page)

We headed off at an angle that might intersect with the wolf-dogs. But I could no longer hear any sounds of the chase or calls for help. Artichoke trotted ahead of me, her braid swinging as she ran, the leash dangling from her hand. I followed behind, heading deeper into the woods.

The moonlight cast a strange blue light over everything.

Suddenly Artichoke stopped.

“Listen!” she said. “I think I hear them!”

I stopped too. But I didn’t hear a thing.

Suddenly Artichoke advanced on me, the leash clenched in both hands. Her eyes glittered in the moonlight. Like the eyes of the wolf-dogs.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked.

She took a step forward, the chain-link leash glinting in the moonlight. “Taking care of a bad dog,” she said, continuing to come toward me.

I backed away from her. It seemed clear that I was the “bad dog.”

“You can’t get away with this,” I said. “Help! Pepe!” I shouted.

“Your precious dog won’t help you now,” she said, continuing to advance on me.

“Felix!” I yelled as I backed up, my feet slipping slightly on the uneven ground.

“He can’t help you either,” she said, snapping the chain taut between her hands. “They’re both too busy with the wolves.”

Then I saw her face change. “I guess I was wrong.”

I turned around, expecting to see Pepe or Felix behind me. But there was nothing there. Just an empty path in the moonlight. The next moment, with a loud “Ha!” Artichoke had looped the chain around my neck and was pulling. I lashed out with the chain I held, but although I could feel it making contact with her, it didn’t stop her. She was slowly cutting off my air supply.

Just as I felt the world turning to black around me, I remembered a trick from a self-defense class I once took where the instructor told us the best strategy is to move in the opposite direction from what the attacker expected. I slumped forward against the chain and ducked my whole body forward. That shift of weight threw her off balance and she loosened her grip. I was able to back up and slip out from the leash.

I took off running. I tried to call out, but when I tried to shout, it came out in a croak rather than a scream or a cry. I headed in the direction of the meadow, thinking I would be safe. Artichoke wouldn’t dare attack me in front of the film crew.

But somehow I got turned around. Instead of the meadow, I saw only endless trees before me. I zigzagged back and forth, looking for something familiar, all the time hearing footsteps and brush crackling behind me. Artichoke was silent, but I knew she was deadly and I knew she was able to track me because of the noise I was making.

I began moving more slowly and deliberately, trying to imitate the silent pad of the wolf-dogs, and, in turn, the sound of pursuit diminished. Perhaps Artichoke was stopping, listening. The full moon shone down through the trees. It was almost as bright as a city street. There was no place for me to hide. I couldn’t see her, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t out there watching me, perhaps from the shadow of a taller tree.

To my left, I spotted the pen of the wolf-dogs. I must have gone really far because the pen was on the far side of the property. But this was good. It meant I was close to the lodge and the other buildings. Which meant I was pretty close to safety.

That’s what I thought. Until Artichoke came rushing at me out of the woods, waving the chain. I headed for the only place that seemed to offer safety: the open door to the pen. I thought I could slam the door behind me and the chain-link fence would protect me from Artichoke’s assault, but she was quick. She tugged on the gate as I struggled to hold it closed.

“You’ve been a bad dog,” she hissed. “You need to be punished!”

I dug in my heels. Used all my strength to hold the door shut, my fingers clamped over the wires of the chain link.

Artichoke looked gleeful. She slashed at the fence with her metal chain, lacerating my fingers.

“Ow!” I screamed, and let go. Big mistake.

Artichoke saw her opportunity and flung herself at the gate. It swung open and I scrambled toward the back of the pen, contemplating my options. Climb the fence? Cower in the enclosure? Use the metal water bowl as a shield?

“Thought you could outsmart me, did you?” Artichoke asked. “You and your stupid purse dog are no match for me and Dogawanda.”

I backed up as she advanced, swinging the metal leash.

If I had been a dog, I would have laid down, rolled over on my back, and presented my belly as a sign of submission. And if Artichoke had been a dog, she would have given a satisfied woof, her dominance established, and that would have been the end of that. But we weren’t dogs. She was going to kill me.

Out in the woods, I heard the howling of the wolf-dogs. What was going on out there? I almost wished they were in the pen with me. I probably would stand a better chance against them than the beast that Artichoke had become.

Artichoke was smiling as she advanced, a sinister smile. “You’ve been very, very bad,” she said.

I decided to distract her with conversation, while my brain worked out ways to get around her.

“You are wrong!” I said assertively, trying to sound like a top dog.

“Oh, but I’m not!” she said. “You’ve been sniffing around where you’re not wanted. You think I don’t know what you do?”

“That’s right. I don’t think you know what I do,” I said. Unfortunately, my assertive tone was not matched by my behavior. Artichoke was backing me up, step by step, toward the end of the pen.

“You’re a private investigator,” Artichoke said. “I can’t believe I didn’t know that until yesterday.”

“Yes, you failed to do your research,” I said. The gate was open at the other end of the pen, some sixty feet away. How could I get there and make my escape?

“And you’re Flicker’s sister,” she said. “I should have known that, too.”

“How did you find that out?” I was genuinely puzzled.

“She told me! She was proud your disgusting little dog was Crystal’s new favorite!”

“He is not disgusting!” I stopped, outraged. Artichoke stopped as well, frowning at me.

“Max was a champion. Max was all we needed. That dog was the smartest, sweetest beast I’ve ever known. And now your little purse dog is going to represent the great Dogawanda. Ridiculous.”

“So you’re angry at me because of my dog?”

“No one takes Max’s place!”

“So it’s not because you murdered Tammy?”

“Well, yes, I murdered Tammy, but that bitch was going to ruin our plans. She was demanding her money back.”

“What about Mark?” I asked. So far, so good. This was just like one of those crime shows on TV where the villains are so sure of themselves that they tell the hero everything about how they did the crime and why, thus giving the hero time to make a plan and save the day. Problem was, I didn’t have a plan.

“He started snooping, too. Demanded his money back.”

“How did you find that out?”

“Barry called me. Told me the guy was kicking up a fuss and to take care of it. Otherwise Barry wasn’t going to throw us his vote. So I drove down there, picked Mark up, told him I’d give him his money back if he came with me to the ranch. It was easy! That one is highly motivated by money.”

“Was.”

“Is, was. Big deal. He’s out of the picture and we got the rezoning approved.”

“Not when I tell the sheriff about the bribe.” I taunted her deliberately.

My plan was to make her so mad that she would rush at me and I would dart around her and make my escape. Fortunately, the first part worked. She flung herself at me. Unfortunately, the second part didn’t work. I couldn’t get around her. Instead she pinned me to the fence and pressed the metal chain against my neck.

I struggled, calling out for help, but my voice was just a tiny squeak. I had wasted my time talking to Artichoke when I should have been screaming my lungs out. This was the time in a TV show when the police would bust onto the scene with their guns drawn.

That didn’t happen.

But something even better did. There was a crashing sound in the underbrush and the wolf-dogs came loping into the clearing, heading straight into the pen. They didn’t stop until they were a few yards from me and Artichoke. They were both breathing heavily, their mouths open and saliva dripping from their sharp fangs.

Artichoke gasped and stepped aside, trying to sidle along the fence toward the open door. I remained quiet and still. Felix had taught me that any quick movements or sudden cries might trigger their prey instinct. But Artichoke didn’t know that.

She shrieked. She slashed at them with the chain. She whirled around and around. That seemed to make them angry. They didn’t even look at me. They began to circle her.

“Help me!” she cried.

Fat chance, I thought. But I really didn’t want to see the wolf-dogs tear her into shreds. What to do? Also I was afraid to leave, as the wolf-dogs were between me and the gate.

I heard rustling in the underbrush and Pepe appeared. My tiny white savior! He didn’t hesitate but ran into the pen and positioned himself between me and the wolf-dogs.

“
Hola
, brothers,” he told the wolf-dogs. “You do not want to harm my partner, Geri. She is a friend to all canines.”

“Pepe, she was trying to kill me!” I said, pointing at Artichoke. “She’s the one who killed Tammy and Mark.”

Pepe growled and began circling Artichoke, along with the wolves. “But this one you may have for a plaything,” he said.

More crashing in the underbrush. Felix appeared. He was breathing heavily, too, but he understood the seriousness of what he saw immediately. He rushed into the pen and gathered me into his arms.

“What’s going on, Geri?” he asked.

“Artichoke tried to kill me,” I said. “She’s a murderer.” I could barely speak. I was shaking from fear and adrenaline.

“It’s OK,” he said. “Let’s get you out of here.” He turned to the wolf-dogs. “Pin her!” he said. The bigger of the two wolf-dogs jumped up on Artichoke and knocked her down. The other wolf-dog stood over her face, growling, his spit dripping on her nose. She was as white as a sheet and shivering like a Chihuahua. Meanwhile Pepe jumped on her prone body, saying, “Do not move a muscle or I will bite your nose off!” He positioned his tiny teeth right at her neck.

“Don’t let them bite me!” she said through chattering teeth.

“I don’t know if I can control them,” said Felix, but it was clear he could, for when the wolf-dogs tried to back away, he told them to stay.

“You’re safe now,” Felix said, gently guiding me toward the gate. But he was wrong. Just as I was about to exit the pen, there was more rustling in the underbrush and Fuzzy appeared.

“Not much left for you to do,” I said to her. But I was wrong.

Right behind her was a heavy-set, dark-haired guy. He looked really out of place in the woods, with his hands jammed in the pockets of his black leather sports coat.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Curly,” he said. “And you must be Breezy.”

“Breezy? Not me. I’m Geri.”

“Geri, Terry, what’s the difference?” he said. “You look just like your photo.”

“You’ve got the wrong sister, mister,” said Pepe.

“Yes, you’ve got the wrong sister,” said Felix.

“This is the end of the line for you, Breezy!” the guy said. He pulled his right hand out of his pocket and I saw he held a gun, which was aimed at my chest.

Felix rushed over and got in front of me. Pepe jumped off Artichoke and came tearing out of the pen. But Fuzzy was even faster. She leaped into the air and chomped down on Curly’s wrist. His shot went wild, crashing into one of the metal poles of the pen and ricocheting back, hitting him in the foot. He dropped his gun.

“Owww!”hescreamed, hopping around on one foot. Fuzzy stayed attached to his wrist. Meanwhile Pepe darted in from behind and sunk his teeth into the Achilles tendon of his standing foot.

“What’s going on? Why is he trying to shoot you?” Felix asked.

“It’s a long story,” I said. I dashed over and picked up the gun.

Curly was trying to shake off the two dogs. Fuzzy was still attached to his wrist, and he was slamming her against the chain-link fence. Pepe was clamped on his ankle, and he tried to kick him with his bleeding foot.

“Stop!” I commanded. “If you hurt those dogs, I’ll shoot you in the other foot!”

We heard a rustling in the pen. Now that Pepe’s little teeth were not at her throat, Artichoke was trying to rise. Felix turned around to give the wolf-dogs another command. “Hold!” he shouted, holding out his hand. Artichoke froze. The wolf-dogs froze, too, their eyes fixed on her.

I turned around in time to see Curly pulling a small pistol from inside his coat. He aimed it at Pepe. It seemed likely he would just shoot himself in the other foot, but I couldn’t really take the chance that his aim would be bad again, because if he missed, he might hit my dog. I raised the gun in my hand but hesitated. I’d never shot anyone before.

Out of nowhere, Jimmy G appeared, running full tilt at Curly. The guy never saw him coming. He got tackled like a running back blindsided in a pro football game. His little pistol went flying, and he let out a big “ooof!” when he hit the ground. Luckily both Fuzzy and Pepe leaped aside as he fell. Jimmy G sat on top of him and gave him a couple of knocks on the head. I picked up the other pistol.

“Where did you come from?” I asked my boss.

Jimmy G stood up, dusted himself off, and said, “Jimmy G’s always around when you need him, doll. You know that.”

Applause erupted from the edge of the woods.

I looked around and saw that we had an audience: Tavo and Chloe and the director and a bunch of Dogawandans.

“Best footage I ever got!” Tavo said.

“You filmed this?” I asked.

“Yep!” He nodded.

“Magnificent acting!” said the director. “And some dynamite stunt work.” He nodded at Jimmy G, who stood up and took a bow.

Eventually the police were called and Artichoke and Curly were led away in handcuffs.

“You know if it wasn’t for you and Pepe,” I said to Felix, “I wouldn’t be alive.”

“That is true,” said Pepe.

“You know what, Geri?” said Felix. “For a minute, I thought I heard your dog talking.” He shook his head. “But I guess it was just the stress of the moment. Anyway, he definitely helped save the day.”

Pepe was insulted. “Helped?” he said sarcastically. “I was the white knight of a dog who galloped in and saved the day!
Arriba
!”

Felix looked bewildered. “Did your dog just say
Arriba
?” he asked me.

I smiled. “Yes, he did.”

“There is hope for you yet,
amigo
,” Pepe told him.

“I think we all need to get cleaned up,” I said. Fuzzy’s hair was matted with leaves and her muzzle spotted with Curly’s blood. Pepe looked like he had been rolling around in the dirt. And I was drenched with sweat after my close encounter with Artichoke.

“Yes,” said Felix, shaking off his momentary confusion. “We can arrange that.” His brown eyes were warm. “Come back to the hotel with me. We can take a nice, long shower together.”

“Hmmmmm,” I said, leaning into him. “That sounds good.”

“Me too!” said Pepe.

“Me too!” said Fuzzy.

Felix acted like he heard both dogs this time. But he didn’t let it bother him.

“Of course,” he said.

I wrapped my arms around Felix’s waist and told him, “Might get a little crowded.”