Dial C for Chihuahua Read Free Page B

the Gerrard Agency.”
    â€œWhy isn’t he here?”
    â€œHe’s in Portland right now, working on another case.” I thought it sounded good that he had trusted me with such an important assignment. But Larson shook his head. I could tell he didn’t believe me.
    â€œWe’re going to have to take you down to the precinct for questioning,” he said. Sanders motioned for me to get up, and they walked me towards the front door, one on each side as if they were afraid I was going to make a dash for it.
    â€œI’m not leaving without my dog,” I said. I hadn’t seen Pepe since the police had first burst into the room.
    â€œWhat dog?” Sanders asked.
    â€œHe’s a little white Chihuahua,” I said. “He was in the living room with me. Maybe you missed him because he’s the same color as the room.” That was supposed to be a joke but apparently they didn’t think it was funny. It’s one of my faults, at least according to my ex, that I tend to make jokes when they’re not appropriate.
    Sanders went into the living room and talked to some of the other men there. A man with a large camera was wandering around, taking photos of the shattered coffee table and the gun.
    One of the guys in the white jumpsuits pulled aside one of the white satin curtains and came up with a small white object. He held it in front of him with gloved hands, as if it were contaminated.
    It was Pepe! I could tell he wasn’t happy. He pedaled his feet in the air, as if trying to find firm ground.
    â€œThat’s my dog!” I said, rushing towards him. But Larson blocked my way.
    The photographer stepped forward and snapped a photo. The flash went off in Pepe’s face and he flinched.
    â€œYou can’t touch him, ma’am,” the technician said. “He’s evidence.” He pointed to Pepe’s paws, which were caked with blood. “We’re going to have to take him to the lab to be processed.”
    â€œNo way, José!” I heard Pepe mutter. He squirmed around and bit the technician on the wrist. The man dropped him with a cry of pain, and Pepe hit the floor, making his own little yelp as he landed. Then he dashed between Larson’s legs and darted out through the open front door.

Chapter 4
    I dashed toward the door, but Larson and Sanders kept pace with me. Sanders grabbed me by the elbow just as I was about to plunge off the front porch.
    â€œCatch that dog!” Larson shouted as Pepe scuttled through the high yew hedge that bordered the yard.
    One of the policemen made an attempt to penetrate the hedge, but he couldn’t part the heavy branches. Another cop, noticing the delay, took off around the hedge, but he came back a few minutes later, shaking his head. “That pooch is gone,” he said.
    â€œThat’s my new dog,” I said. “I just got him today.” I turned to Sanders whose fingers were pinching my elbow. “I’ve got to go after him. He doesn’t know his way around Seattle. He’s from L.A.”
    He rolled his eyes but called one of the uniform cops over. “Have your guys canvas the neighborhood. We need to know if any of the neighbors heard or saw anything out of the ordinary. And tell them to keep an eye out for the dog.”
    â€œBut warn them, he’s vicious,” said the technician, who had come out on the porch and was holding his wrist.
    â€œGo and have that looked at,” said Larson.
    â€œProbably need a rabies shot,” the technician muttered as he headed towards the red-and-white emergency vehicle that idled on the street. It was too late to be of any use to David Tyler.
    â€œHe’s current on his vaccinations,” I called out as he passed by. Just then, a sleek, black Lincoln Town Car drove up the street and coasted to a slow stop beside the cluster of blue and white squad cars in front of the house. A woman got out of the car and came