Chihuahua Conspiracy

Chapter Seven

I felt like the odd one out, given that my two companions had decked themselves out in a vibrant matching shade of pink while I wore a black polka-dotted blouse and flippy yellow skirt. On the way out the door, Nan had decided to pair her T-shirt with silver sling-back kitten heels, and I’d thrown on my favorite battered combat boots. As usual, we made quite the interesting pair. Throw in the Chihuahua, and we were practically a walking fashion show—or at least a reality TV show.

We reached the shelter a few minutes before six and were greeted with a firmly locked door.

“Crud,” I muttered, rattling the handle just in case.

I looked toward Nan just in time to catch her ducking around the side of the building and out of view.

“What are you doing?” I whisper-yelled, chasing after her.

“Why, looking for another way in, of course,” she said, tapping a long fingernail against the window and then turning to me with a devilish smile.

“This isn’t one of your spy movies, Nan. We can just come back tomorrow. No need to sneak about. Now c’mon. Let’s go,” I hissed as I attempted to yank her back toward the parking lot.

Nan shook me off, then raised a finger to her lips and sank to the ground, motioning for me to get down, too. “Wait. Someone’s in there.”

Despite my better judgement, I did as Nan instructed.

We both carefully peeked our heads over the brick ledge and peered through the window. Inside, a thin blonde woman riffled through a tall stack of papers. She muttered something to herself, but I wasn’t able to make out the words.

Nan pinched me. “Will you look at that? I knew there was something fishy going on here.”

Sure she did. Really, she just got lucky this time and every other time she wanted to have herself an adventure. These days, Nan was never disappointed when it came to uncovering crime and drama in our once sleepy small town.

We both watched as the blonde woman inside pulled a sheet of paper from the middle of the stack with shaking hands and pushed it through a desktop shredder. For a brief moment, she glanced up as if sensing that someone—or rather, someones—was watching her, then cursed under her breath and hurried out of view.

“C’mon,” Nan said, duck-walking toward the next window.

I waddled after her, and Paisley pranced after me. What a merry band of spies we made.

We didn’t see the girl again until we reached the very end of the building and the room I easily remembered as Mr. Leavitt’s office. Once there, the blonde pulled open the bottom left drawer of his desk and shoved the remaining papers inside, took another quick look around, and fled.

“Shoot. Is she leaving?” I asked, short of breath from the excitement of our discovery coupled with the grueling physical task of the duck-walk. “She’ll see our car in the parking lot and know that someone’s here.”

“Ooh, you’re right.” Nan popped up and sprinted back toward the main entrance, beating the blonde girl by a solid thirty seconds.

If she was surprised to see us waiting outside the doors for her, she did a great job hiding it. “Oh, hello. Can I help you?” the girl asked.

“Yes, dear. Thank you,” Nan answered in her over-the-top grandmother voice that she took on whenever she wanted to appear extra frail or needy. “I’ve come to make a donation, but I’m afraid I may not be in the right place. Is this the Glendale Community Animal Shelter?”

The blonde smiled with what appeared to be relief. “Yes, that’s us, but I’m afraid we’re closed now.”

“Oh, bother,” Nan chirped, sounding far too upbeat given the words she’d just spoken. “Well, that’s what I get for nodding off during my stories.”

“Aww, it’s okay,” the girl said, shooting Nan a placating smile. “We open again tomorrow at eight. Or, if you prefer, I can take your check now and make sure it gets into the right hands tomorrow.”

“Oh, bless you, dear,” Nan said with a gracious smile. “That would be wonderful. Now what’s your name? I want to make sure I can mention to my followers on the Facebook how helpful you were to me this evening.”

“I’m Trish,” the girl introduced herself with a laugh. “And thank you. We can use all the volunteers and all the donations we can get.”

“Well, Trish.” Nan extracted her checkbook from her purse. “It isn’t much, seeing as I’m on a fixed income, but I hope it gives you the help you need.”

“No amount is too small. Believe me. I don’t have an extra two pennies to rub together, which is why I donate my time instead,” Trish explained as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“They’re very lucky to have you,” I said, when Nan didn’t.

Trish and I watched in silence as Nan wrote out a check for one hundred dollars and tore it from her checkbook with a flourish.

“On behalf of the animals, thank you very, very much for your generosity,” the girl said, holding Nan’s donation close to her heart.

“Oh, it was nothing,” Nan responded with a dismissive wave. “I just wish it could have been more.”

“Every small donation makes a huge difference.” Trish folded the check in half and stuck it in her front pocket. “I’ll be sure this gets added to our coffers tomorrow. Good night, and thank you again!”

We returned her goodbye, waited for Paisley to take a quick potty break, then headed back to the car.

“Who was that?” the little dog asked. “I’ve never seen her before.”

“Trish,” I explained. “She’s one of the volunteers. Are you sure you haven’t seen her before? She’s obviously not new if she’s in charge of closing up.”

“Nope, never,” Paisley answered without the slightest hesitation. “She was really pretty, though. I like her.”

“Wait,” I said with a creeping grin as I thought of the early days with Octo-Cat back when he was simply upset about me providing him with the wrong brand of bottled water as opposed to threatening to murder a Chihuahua. “Do you maybe not recognize her because all humans look the same?”

Paisley’s long pink tongue lolled from her mouth as she panted in amusement. “Why would you say that? Humans don’t look the same at all, and you smell very different, too! Nope. I definitely would have remembered seeing—and smelling—her before.”

I quickly caught Nan up on the dog’s and my little side conversation.

“Hmm,” she said with a dramatic huff. “That’s a bit odd.”

“It is,” I agreed. “What do you think Trish was doing in the shelter all by herself? Does she actually volunteer there, or no? And what did she secretly shred?”

“Good questions,” Nan answered as she navigated the roads that would lead us back toward our home. “One thing’s for sure, I’ll be keeping a close watch on my bank account to see where that check actually ends up.”

I nodded to show my agreement. “Smart.”

“Maybe tomorrow night we can go back and try to break in,” she added with a completely serious expression on her wrinkled face.

“Nan,” I scolded. “We’re trying to stop someone else from breaking the law, not break it ourselves.”

“Well, you’re no fun,” she groused.

Maybe I wasn’t fun compared to my wild grandmother, but one of us had to be the level-headed one in this investigation.

And with Octo-Cat out of commission, apparently that job would fall to me.