Thereby Hangs a Tail Read Free Page B

behind the desk, me beside it. Bernie was dressed now—khakis, tucked-in shirt, loafers—and looked much better. He’d also brewed coffee; loved the smell of coffee, but the taste didn’t do much for me. Water was my drink, although once, out in the desert with some bikers, I’d had a fun evening with beer. But no time to go into that now. Bernie was a great interviewer. His interviewing skills and my nose: if you want my opinion, that’s what raised the Little Detective Agency above the rest. I settled in to watch Bernie work.
    “Cream? Sugar?” he said, pouring coffee.
    “Black,” said Adelina Borghese.
    “Me, too,” said Bernie. “We have something in common.”
    See what I mean? Brilliant. Although maybe this woman was going to be a tough customer, because from where I was, her lips seemed to purse in a way that said, “Dream on.”
    Bernie sipped his coffee, his hand not quite steady. “Ah,” he said. “Hits the spot.”
    Adelina Borghese sipped hers, said nothing, and didn’t touch it again.
    “I take it you’re the owner of Queenie,” Bernie said.
    Now Adelina Borghese’s mouth looked like she’d just tasted something bad. “Queenie?” she said.
    “Uh,” said Bernie, “wasn’t that the name of the ri—” He stopped himself. “What am I saying? Princess, of course. I take it you’re the owner of Princess.”
    “Correct,” said Adelina Borghese. “Although I don’t really think of the relationship in that owner-slash-possession way.”
    “More like a team?” Bernie said.
    There was a pause, and when Adelina spoke again, her voice wasn’t so icy. “You might say that,” she said. “Princess is very special. She’s a great competitor.”
    “At what?” said Bernie.
    “Dog shows,” Adelina said, her voice refreezing fast. “What kind of briefing did that policeman give you?”
    “A good one,” Bernie said. “The competition angle didn’t come up, that’s all.”
    “What other angle is there?” said Adelina. “Dog shows are about competition and Princess is like . . . like Michael Jordan.”
    Bernie loved hoops, had lots of old tapes, so I knew about Michael Jordan, but was Adelina expecting us to believe that the little fluffball in the photo could dunk? A basketball was a very difficult kind of ball for me and my kind, as I’d learned, maybe more than once.
    “What kind of prize money’s involved?” Bernie said.
    “Prize money?” said Adelina.
    “If Princess wins.”
    “She gets a blue ribbon.”
    “No money?”
    “What could be better than a blue ribbon? She loves them.”
    Bernie smiled, a little smile there and gone very fast. He took another sip of coffee, his hand now steady, I was glad to see. “I look forward to meeting her,” he said. “But I have to warn you, Chet and I don’t do much bodyguard work and we’ve never guarded a dog before.”
    “Chet?” said Adelina.
    “We’re a team, too,” said Bernie.
    Adelina bent forward, stared down at me. “Can he be trusted?”
    Now Bernie’s voice got a bit icy, too. “What do you mean?”
    “Around small dogs,” she said. “He looks big. I don’t recognize the breed. And what’s the story with his ears?”
    My ears again? How rude. I didn’t think hers quite matched either. And so what about the odd notch nipped out here and there? Getting into a scrape now and then went with the job, and you should see the other guy. Bernie’s voice grew icier. “There are many private detectives in the Valley,” he said. “I can recommend some if you wish.”
    “There’s no goddamn time for—” Adelina caught herself.
    “No need for that,” she said. “You come highly recommended.
    They’ve even heard of you in New York.”
    I twisted around to see Bernie’s face: eyebrows up, a look of complete surprise. But he said nothing.
    “Are the terms satisfactory?” Adelina said. “Two thousand a day from now till the end of the show?”
    Plus expenses. Come on Bernie: plus expenses. But he