Chihuahua of the Baskervilles (17 page)

They walked around the mausoleum, but there was no way to see the chair inside.

“I guess her masonry skills didn’t extend to windows,” Michael said.

Suki took a few pictures. “Nice texture on the walls, though.”

“She did that with a kitchen spoon.” Angus bent and put his ear to the wall. “I believe I hear the chair rocking inside. Write that down.”

Michael did so. “Is it a soft sound, like it’s muffled by the dust of centuries?”

Suki pointed to the plaque. “She only died in 1943.”

“You can say it creaks a little, if you like,” Angus said. “Creaking is always good.”

Michael scribbled on his pad. “Faint, rhythmic creaking, as of old wood on stone…” He finished and put the pen behind his ear. “Got it.”

Fifteen

When they returned to the Baskerville house, Ivan opened the door to them. He had Lila tucked under one arm. Behind him, Ellen pounded up the stairs, several garments draped over her arm.

“I assume Charlotte is getting ready for the wake?” Angus asked, as they came in.

Ivan nodded. “Cheri, too. The girl who was to play Emma is sick, and Cheri will now be the body in the coffin.”

Michael blew out a breath. “Really? You’d think it would be a little too close to home, what with Thomas’s death and all.”

Ivan shrugged. “She is a natural actress.” Lila squirmed in his grip, and he made a hushing noise. “I am playing dog nanny, so this one does not get stepped on.”

“Can’t you just put her outside?” Suki asked.

Ivan shook his head. “Too many pets go missing for her to be out alone. She would be tasty snack for coyote, mountain lion, even a hawk.”

“If you like, we’ll keep her in our room for a while,” Angus offered.

Ivan handed Lila over willingly. “If she scratches at door, it means she needs to go out to pee. You have to go with her.”

Angus looked into Lila’s face. “We’ll fend off the beasties for you.”

Ivan lifted a hand in thanks, then reached into his pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes before heading for the front door.

Michael headed up the stairs, but Angus pulled him back by his shirtsleeve. When the front door closed behind Ivan, he said, “Come on. I want to try something.”

Michael and Suki followed him into the downstairs parlor, where he handed the dog to Michael and unlocked the door to Thomas’s room.

“What’s going on?” Michael whispered, as they went inside.

Angus pulled the drapes back. Outside, the sky was overcast. “Not bright enough,” he muttered, switching on the overhead light. He took Lila from Michael and held her up to the ceiling, turning her this way and that under the light fixture. She looked down at him, little forehead wrinkled.

“I get it.” Michael picked up the keys from where Angus had dropped them on the desk and unlocked the door to the small bathroom. “This ought to work. Come in here, Suki.”

“Whatever you say, big boy.”

Angus joined them in the small room and closed the door. Light came from under both doors, allowing them to see each other. Lila gave a questioning whine.

“Not dark enough,” Angus said.

“Move over there,” Suki said. She edged past him and squatted in the confined space, then shoved the bathroom rug across the bottom of the door into the hallway. “We need something for the other door.”

“Use this.” Michael pulled a towel off the rack.

Suki pushed it against the bottom of the door to the bedroom, plunging the small bathroom into darkness. “That’s good.” She got to her feet.

They stood in silence for a moment.

“Where’s the dog?” Suki asked.

“I’m holding her in front of my chest,” Angus said.

“I don’t see anything. Can you turn her around?” Michael asked. A moment later he added, “Ow.”

“What?” Suki said.

“Got a claw in the chin.”

“You know,” Suki said, “even if Lila was last night’s ghost, someone could have given her a bath since then. I suppose we could ask.”

Angus made a noise of disappointment. “Never mind. I was hoping for something conclusive. Oh, well. Someone get the door.”

Michael fumbled with the knob, then opened the door a few inches until it stuck on the towel. He slid the towel aside with a foot and they went out.

Angus put Lila on the floor and straightened. “Bloody hell!”

“What?” Michael asked.

Angus strode over to the file cabinets. The second drawer was partially open, and he pulled it out the rest of the way. “Did anyone notice if this was open when we came in?”

“Sorry,” Suki said. “I was watching you illuminate the dog.”

“I know we locked the bedroom when we left this morning,” Michael said, “but there might be another key somewhere. Did you lock the file cabinet last night before we went to sleep?”

“I honestly don’t remember.” Angus pawed through the files. “The private investigator files and the lawyer files are gone.” He closed that drawer and opened another.

“The old investigator files or the new ones?” Michael asked.

Angus shoved the drawer shut. “Both. All. What was that investigator’s name? Thompson? Patterson? Peterson?”

“I can’t believe one of us didn’t write it down,” Michael said glumly. “I guess you figure something in a file is already written down.”

“I’m pretty sure the name was Peterson,” Angus said, “but I don’t suppose he’ll give us a copy of the records, even if we ask nicely.”

Suki pointed upstairs. “What do you say we tell Charlotte and ask if we can search the place?”

Angus looked skeptical. “You think whoever took the files still has them in the house? They had the whole time we were gone to get rid of them.”

“That’s assuming the person broke into the room earlier,” Suki said. “What if someone walked in while we were in the bathroom with the dog?”

Angus and Michael stared at her. Then they all made a concerted rush toward the door.

“Wait!” Michael said, as the three of them reached the foyer. “What exactly are we going to do?” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Explain to Charlotte that we searched through her husband’s files and found personal and embarrassing things about her?”

Angus chewed on the side of his thumb. “When you put it that way…”

“I suppose Charlotte might have taken them herself,” Suki put in. “She seems like the kind of woman who would have a spare key to her husband’s private room.”

“But what if she doesn’t?” Angus said. “What if she doesn’t know they existed, and the person who took them was in cahoots with Thomas?”

“Thomas is dead, so cahoots are moot.” Michael chuckled. “Is
cahoots
a Scottish word? It really sounds like it.”

“Focus, Michael,” Angus said.

“Right. It’s not as though the files were harmful, since the investigator didn’t find anything. In a perfect world, whoever took them is simply covering his or her tracks. Think of it this way—now Charlotte won’t have to see stuff that would only hurt her feelings.”

“I’d still like to know who it was,” Angus muttered. “What do you say we search the downstairs, just to see?”

Michael shrugged and looked at Suki.

“Yeah, okay,” Suki said. “While we’re at it, keep an eye out for Lila. She must have run out of the room when you were looking through the files.”

*   *   *

Suki had her head in one of the bottom kitchen cupboards when she heard Ellen’s voice behind her.

“Can I help you find something?” Ellen asked.

Suki withdrew with a clatter of cookie sheets and stood. “Um, a waffle iron?”

“You want to make waffles?” Ellen held a pin cushion in one hand. It was in the shape of a Chihuahua’s head.

Suki pointed to it. “I once dated a guy who did pet acupuncture. He said turtles were the worst.”

Ellen looked at the pincushion for a moment, then back at Suki. “You want to make waffles?”

“Um, yeah,” Suki continued. “I thought, since Charlotte was nice enough to put us up, we could make breakfast for everyone.”

Ellen opened the cupboard beside the one Suki had been in and pointed. “There’s the waffle iron.” She smiled. “What a nice idea.”

Suki squatted and eyed the machine’s pitted chrome and cloth-covered cord. “When was the last time you made waffles, 1949?” She pushed the machine to one side and looked behind it before standing and closing the cupboard door.

Ellen waved toward the stairs. “I’ve almost finished dressing Charlotte and Cheri for the Emma Crawford wake tonight, if you want to take pictures of them.”

“I’ll get my stuff and be right up.”

*   *   *

In the parlor outside Thomas’s room, Angus looked behind books while Michael got on his hands and knees and checked under the furniture.

Footsteps on the wood floor made them both turn.

Ivan sat down on an upholstered hassock, Lila at his feet. “If you are looking for dog, I have her.” He eyed them curiously. “But surely you do not expect her to be behind books.”

Michael sat back on his heels and brushed his hands on his pants. “We’re, uh—”

“Looking for ghost spoor,” Angus said, taking three books off the shelf and peering into the space behind.

Ivan crossed one leg over the other. “And why are ghosts poor?”

“Ghost
spoor,
” Angus said, enunciating clearly. “Traces left by ghosts. It could be ectoplasm, unexplained piles of dust, even scraps of paper with cryptic writing. I found one of those once.”

“Oh, please,” Michael groaned. “What did this cryptic note say?”

Angus narrowed his eyes. “It said, ‘Don’t be a smart-ass.’”

Michael picked a pillow off the chaise and looked behind it. “Not so cryptic, then.”

“We’d be happy to check your room for you, Ivan,” Angus said. “I think Charlotte would want us to.”

“Maybe later, when I can help,” Ivan said. “And if we find something, we will give it to Lila to sniff. She can track it down, like a bloody hound.”

“Bloodhound,” Michael corrected.

Suki came in, carrying her tripod and camera. “Guys? Oh, hi, Ivan.”

He grinned, crooked teeth on display. “Hallo, princess.”

She turned to the others. “Ellen is putting the last touches on Charlotte’s and Cheri’s costumes for the Emma Crawford wake. I’m going to take some pictures. Do you want to ask them questions or anything?”

“I suppose we’ve looked in this room enough.” Angus gave Suki a significant look. “We’ll finish searching the rest of the house for
ghost spoor
later on.”

“Ghost spoor …
riiight,
” Suki said. “I wish you’d mentioned that to me earlier.”

“Why?” Michael asked.

“Never mind, but you should know we’re making waffles for everyone tomorrow morning.”

They trooped upstairs, Ivan carrying Lila.

In Charlotte’s bedroom, Suki set up her camera while Michael took out his recorder and muttered descriptive phrases into it.

Cheri stood in front of a mahogany-framed cheval mirror, wearing an old-fashioned white nightgown with a ribbon sash, puffed sleeves, and drawstrings at the wrists.

Noting her pale face and purple-shadowed eyes, Angus said, “If that’s not makeup, you might want to see a doctor.”

Cheri didn’t smile, but went to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress, her spine slumping. “It’s makeup. I did it myself.” She reached back and petted Chum, ensconced in the middle of the spread. He wagged his tail.

“Well, you make a lovely Emma, if a bit peaky.” Angus took a notebook and pen out of his jacket pocket and turned to where Charlotte sat on a wooden chair, very upright. “And tell us who you are again.”

“Cara Bell. Wife of the founder of Manitou Springs, Dr. William Bell.” The dress she wore was of matte black silk. The high, close neck led into a ruffled yoke that decorated her bosom. Additional fabric draped her hips, making her waist look tiny.

Ellen stood at her shoulder, stitching the top of one of the close-fitting long sleeves.

“Is that dress an antique?” Michael asked.

“No.” Charlotte put a hand flat against her stomach. “I’m wearing a corset, but unless I want my liver and kidneys to be even closer neighbors, I’d never get into an actual dress from that time. Those women were so small.”

“This is a reproduction.” Ellen took a pair of scissors off Charlotte’s lap and snipped the needle free of the seam she’d been stitching. “Unfortunately, Charlotte snagged the sleeve on the hinge of her closet door this morning.”

“Did you make the dress?” Angus asked Ellen.

She laughed. “No way. Dog costumes are child’s play compared to this.”

“I bought it from an online site,” Charlotte explained. “It wasn’t cheap, but I’ve wanted to play Cara Bell for years. I’m older than she was at the time of Emma Crawford’s death, but I have a wig.” She motioned to the bureau, where a Styrofoam head held a brown wig pulled into a bun. “What time is it?”

Angus looked at his watch. “Just after four.”

Charlotte ran her hand over the mended sleeve. “Am I all set, Ellen? We should leave soon.”

“Yep.” Ellen went over to the bureau and stuck her needle in the top of the Chihuahua pincushion.

“I thought the first performance started at six,” Michael said. “Should we go with you?”

“No,” Charlotte said. “We’re just taking care of last-minute preparations.” She leaned forward very slightly, then stopped with a grunt. “Someone get me out of this chair.”

Angus took her outstretched hands and carefully raised her to her feet. “Will you keep your costumes on?”

“No. We’ll take everything off now and dress again right before the performance. This was just a trial run.” Charlotte took a deep breath now that she was standing. “Whew. That’s better. Ivan is going to help with the lighting, Ellen will check costumes, we need to make sure Cheri looks good in the coffin, and I want to go over my lines with some of the other historical figures.”

Ellen gathered up her sewing things. “We haven’t spent much time with the dogs today. Should I put Lila in her crate so she doesn’t do anything bad while we’re gone?”

“Would it help if I took her for a walk?” Suki asked.

Charlotte put a hand on her arm. “Oh, would you, dear?”

“Sure. As long as I can dress her up.”