Chihuahua Conspiracy

Chapter Five

After writing out the check for my donation, Mr. Leavitt showed me around the shelter and detailed how my gift would help the residents there. I left that afternoon about a thousand dollars lighter and feeling fantastic about it.

It was nice to use my money for something good. Not that it wasn’t great to keep Octo-Cat stocked on all the specialty water, gourmet cat food, and new Apple technology his little kitty heart desired, but this time I was helping dozens of animals in need rather than catering to the spoiled whims of a single pampered pet.

I couldn’t stop smiling the whole way home.

During that drive, Paisley and I also had a little talk about what I could and could not do in front of other people.

“So you can’t talk to animals when other humans are around?” the Chihuahua summed up from her precarious perch on the passenger seat.

“Bingo,” I sang with a huge smile of confirmation, then added, “Unless, of course, it’s Nan, Charles, or someone else we’re close to. Got it?”

“Got it,” she barked, taking a quick moment to stare at me in admiration before putting her front paws up on the windowsill and basking in the fresh breeze blowing through our tiny vehicle.

Back at home, we found Nan listening to showtunes while slathering a tall layer cake with light pink buttercream. “Is that the Hamilton soundtrack?” I guessed, suppressing a laugh when I drew close enough to hear my seventy-year-old-plus grandmother rapping about the founding of our nation.

“That Lin Manuel Miranda is so talented, and so cute, too! If I were thirty-five years younger or he were thirty-five years older, I’d have a half a mind to take off half his clothes and—”

I was quick to shove an index finger in each ear so that I wouldn’t have to listen to the rest of that sentence. “Nan, that’s way more than I ever want to hear about that.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “Hey, I may be old, but I’m not dead yet!”

I simply gave her a hug and changed the topic. “Yeah, um, right. So, uh, anyway… Has Octo-Cat come out at all today?”

Nan shrugged as she continued work on her towering bubblegum-colored confection. “Not that I’ve seen. How did things go at the shelter?”

A vision of all those poor caged animals sitting in their dark cages flashed through my mind, eliciting a sad sigh. “I made a donation, but I wish there was something more we could do to help. It’s really crowded in there, and they even lost power while I was visiting.”

“You don’t say,” Nan remarked, biting down on her lip and then spinning the cake before her to make sure it had been fully frosted.

“I wish I hadn’t,” I admitted. “What brought you into that place to begin with? Did you know they were struggling when you went in to adopt Paisley yesterday?”

Nan took off her apron and washed her hands in the kitchen sink, then dried them on an embroidered tea towel. “I sure didn’t, and the lights at least stayed on while I was there, but I did notice the fact that they had more dogs than kennels to put them in.”

“So what made you decide to adopt a dog yesterday then?” I took advantage of her quiet thoughtfulness by grabbing a spoon from the drawer and snagging a spoonful of buttercream to taste.

Nan rolled her eyes playfully and followed me out toward the living room where we both claimed our favorite spots in the large sitting area filled with uncomfortable antique furniture. “Oh, I didn’t decide,” she revealed once we were both settled in our seats. “I just did it.”

“Yup, that sounds about right,” I said with a chuckle. I loved my nan dearly, but it was true that she did first and thought later—if at all. “Well, you picked a good one in Paisley. She’s a real sweet girl.”

“Of course I did. And of course she is,” Nan clucked like a proud mother hen. “Was there ever any doubt?”

“Not at all.”

We made some tea, then chatted for a bit about our plans for the week. Nan was hard at work developing new recipes for her upcoming book. It wasn’t a cookbook, but rather a memoir that would be enhanced with half a dozen of her favorite custom recipes. She was also working on some kind of secret art project that she planned to convert into the book’s eventual cover, but I wasn’t allowed to see that until it was ready.

I had originally planned to work on rustling up some new business for Octo-Cat’s and my new private investigation firm, but now it seemed I’d be spending every waking hour serving as mediator for our two pets as they learned to live in harmony.

“Would you be okay with chicken parmigiana for dinner?” Nan asked with a quick glance toward her new Apple Watch. Octo-Cat’s zeal for all things iTech had spread to me and Nan, too. “We have another couple of hours yet, but it wouldn’t hurt to thaw the meat a bit first.”

As a proud American of half-Italian descent, I was always up for a hearty pasta dish—and everything Nan cooked tasted like Heaven to my untrained taste buds. “You know I love your chicken parmigiana,” I answered without hesitation as I stretched my arms overhead and let out a happy moan in anticipation of that night’s meal.

A loud crash followed by the sound of something fragile shattering on the ground sent us both scrambling to our feet.

“What was that?” Nan shrieked.

“Sounded like it came from the kitchen. C’mon.”

We both rushed in and found little Paisley sniffing a broken pile of china. No, Lenox! Oh, this was not good!

“Was that one of Octo-Cat’s teacups from Ethel?” I shouted, a wicked headache already brewing beneath my temples.

Nan bent down and picked up a shard. “Judging from the floral pattern around the rim, why yes. Yes, it is.”

“Did you do this, Paisley?” I asked after kneeling down to speak with the dog at her level. “Did you accidentally knock this down?”

“No way. I would never do that!” she barked, wagging her tail affectionately. “I would never break Mommy’s or Nan’s things.”

I believed her. Not just because I knew she wanted to keep us both happy, but also because it didn’t seem possible that she’d be able to jump onto the counter, push off the teacup, and then jump back to the floor without managing to hurt herself.

“Do you think Octavius broke his own cup in protest?” Nan asked, shaking her head in disappointment.

“It seems like something he might do, but he’s been locked in my bedroom the whole day. Remember?”

Nan reached one hand up to scratch her head. “Are you sure you didn’t leave a window open or something?”

“Pretty sure,” I said, even though I couldn’t really be sure of anything at the moment, at least not as far as he was concerned. “But let’s go check and see if he’s still in there.”

“Can I come?” Paisley asked, trailing after us excitedly.

“No, he doesn’t—” I began, but then quickly amended my answer. “You know what, Paze? Yes. Yes, you can come.”

“Oh, joyest of joys!” the Chihuahua sang, racing up both flights of stairs as fast as her diminutive paws could carry her.

“You do realize that the cat is going to be furious with you,” Nan pointed out with a naughty grin.

I shrugged. “Yeah, well, maybe I’m furious with him, too,” I muttered, then took a deep breath and pushed the door open.