Chihuahua of the Baskervilles (25 page)

Suki put a hand to her forehead and sighed. “You know, I’ve been working all morning and I’m beat. Let Michael do it. He’s just as good.” She patted Michael’s shoulder as he stared at her. “Go on, sport.”

“This is so exciting!” Barb said.

Ellen pursed her lips. “Doesn’t he need to hold something?”

Michael held out his fist. “I’m already holding something.” He shut his eyes and waved his closed hand in front of his face. “I sense a lot of rage. Rage and resentment. But there’s more. The color white, and a word, a word that begins with
D
…”

“Dog!” Barb squeaked. “It’s Petey’s ghost!”

Ellen grabbed Michael’s hand. “What have you got there?” She opened his fingers and picked up the paw-print charm. “Anyone could look at this and get
dog
.” She tossed it on the table. “C’mon, Barb. I think we can get the last of these files in one load.”

The
Tripping
crew watched as the two women swapped files between the cabinets and the boxes.

Ellen opened the door for Barb and then picked up her box. “Make sure to lock up when you leave.” She hooked the door with her foot and slammed it shut.

“Not very mousy anymore, is she?” Michael said.

“That’s the thing about doormats,” Angus reflected. “Once they get ruffled, you can suffer a nasty fall.”

*   *   *

Angus, Suki, and Michael searched the rest of the workshop but were unable to find anything else of interest. Angus locked the door and they crossed the yard to the house.

“Are we going to leave right after the race?” Michael asked.

“Since I can’t come up with any more excuses for staying, yes.” Angus opened the back door and led the way through the kitchen. “We have more than enough for an article.”

“Especially since we can’t prove it isn’t a ghost,” Suki said.

“As far as
Tripping
is concerned, it
is
a ghost.”

As they reached the foyer, Barb Metcalf came down the stairs, carrying yet another cardboard box. She gave them a smile before going out the open front door. A minivan stood in front of the house.

“They’re not taking things from Charlotte’s room, are they?” whispered Michael.

Angus held a finger to his lips and looked upstairs.

Charlotte’s voice floated down to them. “Ellen, honey, there’s no need for this.”

A pause, but Ellen’s voice was too quiet to hear.

Charlotte went on. “It’d be silly to let something like this get in the way of our friendship, not to mention what we’ve built together.”

Angus went up the stairs quietly, the others following.

Charlotte stood in the doorway of Ellen’s bedroom. “Honey, we’ve had disagreements in the past and always worked them out.”

“Because I always gave in,” Ellen said from inside her room. “If we’re going to work together, things will have to change. I mean it, Charlotte.” She came out, a load of clothes slung over one arm, a desk lamp held in her other hand. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”

She passed Angus and the others without a word.

Charlotte looked distraught, but she pushed her hair back and straightened her spine when she saw the
Tripping
crew. “I only came back for a moment, to change clothes. It got warm outside.” She went down the hall to her room and closed the door behind her.

Angus and the others went into the adjoining parlor. “I suppose we may as well pack anything we don’t need to cover the race this afternoon.”

Suki opened a bag and began to load it with cables. “At some point, I’ll need to check that I didn’t leave anything in Charlotte’s room when I slept there.”

Michael picked up a pen and looked around. “Some of my stuff is downstairs in Thomas’s bedroom.”

“I left some things, too,” Angus said. “We might as well get them now.”

They went down the hall, slowing to look into Ellen’s room. The doors to her empty wardrobe stood open and the top of the desk was clean. Folded bedding lay stacked on the bare mattress.

“She’s really moving out,” Michael said.

When they reached the foyer, Angus went to the front door and pulled the curtain aside. The minivan pulled away from the curb, Barb at the wheel, Ellen beside her. “There she goes.”

Michael sniggered. “It’s just like when Tom Ford left Gucci, only with Chihuahuas.”

It took only minutes for Angus and Michael to pack. Angus was deciding whether there was enough toothpaste left in his tube to justify taking it when he and Michael heard the front door open.

Michael went quietly out of the room, then came back and whispered, “It’s Ivan.”

Footsteps sounded up the stairs, accompanied by whistling.

Angus and Michael went to the foyer in unspoken agreement and stopped at the foot of the stairs to listen.

Ivan’s footsteps paused as he reached the upstairs, then continued briefly. “Hallo, princess,” he said.

“Hey, Ivan,” Suki said.

“Ellen has left?”

“Yep.”

“And you also are leaving today?”

“Sometime after the coffin race.”

“Will you give Ivan your phone number, for when I need photos?”

“Sure.” A pause. “Here’s my card.”

“Excellent. Someday I will be famous, and then I will take you on date you will never forget.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

Ivan’s footsteps continued to the end of the hall, and they heard him knock. “Charlotte?” he called.

Upstairs, a door opened, then closed.

When they didn’t hear anything more, Angus gestured at Michael to follow him, and they ran lightly up the stairs. They found Suki in the parlor that adjoined Charlotte’s room, ear pressed to the wall.

Angus shut the door to the hall and joined her, jockeying with Michael for position.

“—worry,” Ivan said, on the other side of the wall. “You will make other business. Television business. Everything you need is right here.”

“Ivan, I spent ten years building Petey’s Closet. I’m not going to give it up because of a temporary difficulty.”

“It will take time to find other designer. Take that same time and spend it on Ivan. I have five brilliant ideas for television show. First idea. Americans love baby animals, but they also love to be afraid.”

“I don’t want to hear…” Charlotte hesitated. “Scary baby animals? No, forget it, because I am not in the entertainment business.”

“But you should be!”

“Ivan, we are not having this discussion. I have to get back to the race now. Do me a favor and take Lila for her walk.”

Lila gave a short bark.

Charlotte’s door opened, and they heard the tap of her heels as she left her room and went downstairs.

“She is ungrateful, Lila,” Ivan said heavily. “But she will learn.”

In the hall outside, they heard the click of Lila’s claws as she passed the parlor door and followed Ivan downstairs.

Twenty-two

The
Tripping
crew arrived an hour early for the Emma Crawford Coffin Race. They staked out their place by setting up Suki’s video camera on its tripod.

Sun beat down on the milling crowd of locals and tourists, many of them dressed as if for Halloween. A woman in a tattered wedding dress hurried by, her skirt hiked up. Sweat streaked her white makeup. Stilt walkers stalked the street, costumed as surreal birds and giant eyes.

Over the noise of the crowd, a loudspeaker amplified the voices of the two official announcers, who chatted about the race’s history and its sponsors.

Angus snagged Shermont Lester as he walked by, carrying a case of bottled water. “Is this a good place for our camera?”

“Sure is.”

“And can you give us a brief idea of what happens?”

Shermont set the box down by his feet. “The parade starts with the procession of hearses.” He waved at a contestant. “Cathy, did you get a new helmet? Looks good!” He went on. “After the hearses, the contestants come by, following the Chamber of Commerce pace coffin.”

Michael, holding up his recorder to catch Shermont’s remarks, chortled. “Isn’t the proper pace for a coffin
dead still
?”

Shermont rolled his eyes. “I’ve never heard that before. Anyway, the pace coffin doesn’t actually participate in the race, since they do that in heats. But it adds a touch of ceremony and shows people where to line up in the parade.”

“Is there a favorite to win?” Suki asked.

“Usually, but the team is out of town. I’m betting on the Dirty Grannies this year. They have some really strong pushers.” Shermont noticed a race official waving at him. “Gotta go. The parade’s about to start.”

The announcer’s voice boomed over the crowd. “And here comes the Hearse of Fire!”

Huge bat wings extended from the roof of the hearse in the lead. A man dressed in black leather and dark glasses stood on its roof, behind something that looked like a mounted machine gun. His head was shaved except for a red and black bihawk about eight inches high. As they watched, a gout of flame roared from the gun.

“Dude,” Suki said. “That is
awesome
.”

Other hearses followed. One dark, metallic blue beauty paused, revved its engine, then peeled rubber. “Nothing but pure power,” the announcer crooned.

“I guess if you have a hearse, you wait all year for an event like this to show it off,” Michael mused, as a hearse with accompanying Ghostbusters went by, the costumed team strutting to the movie’s theme song. “What complicated impulse makes someone take up hearse rallies as a hobby?”

“It probably starts when someone offers you a really good deal on a hearse,” Angus said.

The pace coffin came next, occupied by someone in a tiger costume. The tiger waved at the crowd.

The announcers ratcheted up their enthusiasm a notch. “And here come this year’s contestants!”

The assembled teams included Elvis impersonators in canonical white jumpsuits, people dressed as garden gnomes, and faux Rastafarians. Most of the coffins rested directly above an axle with wheels of eight inches or less. A welded frame rose from the sides of the coffin, apparently for the pushers to hold.

“Hey, there’s Bob Hume,” Suki said, pointing. “I guess he managed to round up a team.”

Bob’s coffin still had black Chihuahuas at each of the four corners, but now they wore tiny top hats. Black tulle draped the sides, gathered into swags with rhinestone collars. Unlike the majority of coffins, his race vehicle sat at the top of its metal frame, with handles just below the bottom of the coffin.

Two of his three pushers looked like they might be high school football players. The third, a bearded man in his forties, wore a knee brace. All of them, including Bob, sported headbands with dog ears on them.

The team’s Emma, seated inside the coffin, looked to be in her mid-forties and had a smoker’s leathery skin and whippy build. Her costume consisted of jeans and a white T-shirt with the slogan
I’m Dead
painted on it. She flipped lank brown hair over her shoulder and lit a cigarette.

Bob caught sight of them and waved at the video camera. “Hello,
Tripping
fans! Try Petey’s Pride dog food, with cancer-preventing açaí berries, available soon at a store near you!”

Keeping his lips still, Angus said, “We’ll put music over that part of the video.”

Michael nodded. “I have to admit, the black Chihuahuas go great with the story, even if they are tasteless as hell.”

“Speaking of the story, we should try to find Charlotte and interview her about the parade.” Angus stood on tiptoes and looked over the crowd. “The judge’s box is over there. Michael, you come with me. Suki, stay here, unless you see something better to film. Actually, just do whatever you think is best.”

Suki’s gaze remained fixed on the camera’s screen. “I usually do.”

Angus and Michael wormed their way through the crowd until they reached the reviewing stand. Speakers mounted on the corners blasted the voices of the announcers, who riffed on the dangers of driving dead drunk.

“I don’t see Charlotte in there,” Michael shouted.

“There should be stairs around back,” Angus shouted back. “We’ll go ask if anyone knows where she is.”

They squeezed between the side of the stand and a cluster of trash and recycling bins. Angus stopped as they rounded the back corner.

Behind the stand, Charlotte Baskerville held on to her granddaughter’s arm with both hands.

Cheri was dressed in the white Emma gown she had worn at the wake. Her face and hair were both painted white, and purple makeup ringed her eyes. She pulled against her grandmother’s hold and stumbled.

Charlotte tried to pull her upright. “I warned you from the beginning, you can’t live with me if you’re drinking!”

“I’m not drunk!” Cheri wailed, slurring the words. She changed direction and fell against her grandmother, knocking Charlotte against the back of the stand. Cheri dissolved into giggles and slid to the ground, her gown riding up to her thighs.

Charlotte pushed herself off the wall and caught sight of Angus and Michael. She shook her head in a helpless gesture.

“Can we do anything to help?” Angus asked.

Charlotte bent and pulled Cheri’s dress down. “I’m going to call Jay and see if he’ll take Cheri home and stay with her.” She straightened. “Can you make her stay until he gets here?”

Cheri kicked out and caught Angus a glancing blow on his shin. “Noooo!” she howled. “I wanna see the race!”

Angus took a step back and rubbed his leg. “I’m fully prepared to sit on your head, lass.”

Charlotte pointed at the reviewing stand. “My phone’s up here. You shouldn’t have to wait too long. Jay’s probably somewhere around here.” She went up the stairs and disappeared inside the box.

Michael took up a position on the other side of Cheri. “Hey, Cheri, I’ve got a joke for you. What’s brown and sticky?”

Cheri gave up trying to stand and squinted up at him. “What?”

“A stick.”

After a moment, she began to laugh. “A stick!”

Angus smirked at Michael. “You should rent yourself out for kids’ birthday parties.”

“Don’t knock it,” Michael said. “I tended bar in college, and there’s nothing like a stupid joke to calm an angry drunk.” He looked down at Cheri, who was trying to stand again. “Hey, Cheri, what kind of mistakes do ghosts make?”