Divas, Diamonds & Death: a Danger Cove Pet Sitter Mystery (Danger Cove Mysteries Book 15) Page 4

  "Who is it?" I called through the door.

  "It's your dinner from Gino's Pizzeria." It was a male voice, sort of, young, so young it cracked in the middle of dinner.

  "I didn't order anything." I still didn't open the door.

  "I'm supposed to tell you it's from Sabrina. She thinks she might be out late, and she wants you to have something hot."

  "Oh." Sounded harmless enough. "That was nice of her—thoughtful." The question of what Sabrina and my granddad were up to that would keep them "out late" did cross my mind.

  Then I opened the door. A high school kid with a Gino's bag stood at the bottom step. The aromas wafting from it were garlicky and wonderful. My mouth began to water—heck, more like flood. I knew exactly what it was—as luck would have it, my favorite pasta dish. In fact, just the day before I'd been posting about my ravenous craving for it on Facebook.

  He held up the bag. Even though it was still pretty light outside, the motor coach exterior lights had come on when the motion sensors were activated by his approach to the door, so I could look down into his face. He was skinny as heck, red-haired and freckled, with bushy eyebrows and enormous teeth. Not a face to forget easily, and I didn't think I'd ever seen him before that moment.

  "I'm not sure what it is," he said, "but it smells freakin' awesome."

  "Yes." I reached for the bag. "It does." I took it from him. "Hang on a minute." With my free hand I fished around in my jeans pocket and found a couple of loose bills—ones. "Here."

  He looked at them and smiled. "Oh, that's okay. I already got tipped thirty bucks."

  "Of course you did."

  He took a couple of steps back. "Well, enjoy."

  "Thanks." I closed the door and locked it, went to the back, let Rosie and Vader out of the bedroom, and then sat down at the small but gorgeous polished granite-top table half-circled by a soft leather banquette. I opened the bag and the container of food. Pesto Penne Primavera and garlic toast. I found a bottle of water in the elegant little fridge.

  Rosie and Vader were hanging pretty close. Both little noses turned up in ecstasy. As babied as Rosie was, she probably expected me to share my dinner with her. But that wasn't going to happen, not tonight, not with this yummy food. No way.

  When I was done—and I'd gone so far as to lick the sauce off the lid of the container—I wrapped things up and put them in the trash can. I turned on the flat-screen TV to watch a movie on Netflix.

  Only about fifteen minutes into Charlotte's Web, which I'd put on for Rosie and Vader, I was suddenly so tired, so drowsy, I could barely hold my head up.

  "Oh, gosh," I said to the two little babies who had me sandwiched on the sofa, their tiny heads on my thighs. "I'm so sleepy."

  Both of them lifted their heads and blinked bright eyes at me. Obviously they weren't as exhausted as I suddenly was. I slid down a little so I could lean my head on the back of the sofa.

  * * *

  "Wake up! Wake up! What have you done? Oh, my goodness. What in the world have you done?" It was a high-pitched screech so shrill it made me cringe.

  "Lizzie." Familiar hands touched my face and ran down my arms. "Wake up, honey."

  I opened my eyes and looked up. Sabrina stood over me, her arms waving wildly. Jimmy John sat beside me on the sofa.

  "What? What…" I couldn't think. Could barely see. I tried to lift my arms, but they were heavy as tree trunks. My legs were mush. I rolled my head to look at Jimmy John. His eyes were cloudy with concern.

  "You okay?" he asked.

  "Her?" shrieked Sabrina. "Her? What about Rosie?" She grabbed hold of my wrist. "Where is she? Where's my precious? What have you done with her?"

  I managed to straighten up and look around. Vader sat at the end of the sofa, his little head tilted, his ears on alert.

  I took a quick look around the rest of the coach from where I sat, and what I didn't see scared me.

  Rosie.

  Rosie wasn't there.

  I looked at Jimmy John. "I don't get it. After I ate the food Sabrina sent, I just couldn't stay awake, no matter how hard I tried. My head hurts, and I can't remember anything. I—"

  "What food?" Sabrina shrilled. "I never sent over any food."

  I squinted up into her face. It was mottled and puffy. Her mascara had smudged beneath her eyes, and her foundation had dried and caked around her eyes and lips. She looked tired and frightened and nothing like the sassy thing who'd strutted out of here earlier in the evening.

  Sabrina collapsed onto the sofa beside me as the sobs came. "Oh, oh, Rosie. My Rosie."

  Coming more awake every second, I was overwhelmed. Shame washed over me like a tsunami of grief. "Are you sure she's not here?" I asked softly.

  Sabrina's eyes swam with tears. She shook her head sadly.

  "Did you look under the bed?"

  "It's a pedestal." Her voice was edgy. "There is no 'under.'"

  Worth a try. I sighed.

  Jimmy John said, "Tell me about this food, Lizzie. What food are you talking about?"

  "The pasta from Gino's. The delivery boy said Sabrina sent it over because she thought you and Sabrina might be late."

  "And after you ate this food that Sabrina says she never sent, you couldn't stay awake?"

  I nodded.

  Jimmy's eyes locked onto mine, and I could see that excellent mind of his working things out. He stood and crossed his arms. "Someone drugged you and made off with Rosie. I'm going to call the police," he said.

  Sabrina sat up straight. "The police?" Her voice was filled more with dread than with surprise. "You don't think someone's hurt my baby, do you?"

  "Hurt?" he said. "Probably not. But the whole world knows what little Rosie means to you. I think she might have been kidnapped."

  Sabrina drew in a ragged breath. "Kidnapped?"

  "Well," I said, "more like pignapped. Don't you think?"

  Jimmy John gave me a sharp look, but Sabrina didn't seem to notice, and began crying again. Jimmy John took a couple of steps to the other side of the sofa and sat down beside Sabrina, taking hold of her hand and patting it.

  I sent daggers in his direction, willing him to think about Fran, but it didn't seem to have much of an impact. Sabrina was truly coming apart at the seams, and my heart went out to her. Even Vader sat at her feet looking up at her sadly.

  "Try not to worry," I said. "I promise you that I'll get her back. We'll get her back." I looked at Jimmy John for support and confirmation.

  He nodded.

  I went on, a sudden idea popping into my head. "Sabrina, since you're the Critter Communicator," I began slowly, not wanting to upset her further but feeling there was maybe one chance in a million…"why don't you just hook up to Rosie psychically, ask her where she is, and we'll go get her."

  Sabrina, still sniffling, looked first at me then at Jimmy before she started to wail so loudly I was pretty sure Fran could hear her all the way up at the main house.

  "Or maybe not," I said softly.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Sabrina called Paco and Evan, who arrived even before the police.

  The police came shortly thereafter. They'd probably drawn straws at the precinct to see who would be the lucky one to answer the celebrity complaint. Of course neither I nor Jimmy John nor Fran, who'd thrown on her robe and come to the motor coach when my granddad phoned her, were happy to see that the cop who got lucky was none other than Detective Lester Marshall. He and Officer Fred Fields came up the stairs and into the motor coach, which was amazingly roomy for a motor coach but got pretty darn crowded with Sabrina, Paco, Evan, Jimmy John, Fran, me, and the two cops inside. I didn't count Vader because I held him to keep him from biting the detective's ankles. Even my sweetheart of a pug who loved everyone had a bad attitude when it came to Lester Marshall.

  The subject of Vader's disdain was currently striking his most outrageous peacock pose—chin stuck out, arms akimbo, hip cocked, and one leg thrust in front of the other like Angelina Jolie on the red car
pet (only without the same effect). I figured it had something to do with Sabrina, who'd fixed her makeup and smoothed her hair prior to their arrival and had gushed, "Oh, my heroes," when the cops got there.

  I told Marshall what I knew, which wasn't much.

  When I finished, he squinted his eyes, turned his back on me, reached down to where Sabrina sat on the sofa, and took her hand between both of his.

  "Don't you worry yourself, Miz Ramirez. We're going to get to the bottom of this thing super fast. I'm known for making short work of a mystery and always bringing criminals to justice. You ask around, and everyone's going to tell you that I'm a bad guy's worst nightmare."

  Jimmy John snorted but covered it by clearing his throat when Lester gave him a harsh glance.

  They spent the next half hour going over the day's events with all of us—something I felt could have been accomplished in ten minutes or so, seeing as how each and everyone of us who'd been witness to the meltdown by Carlos Ramirez had already come to the conclusion he was the most likely pignapper.

  Lester took out his cell phone, dialed the precinct, and said, "We're putting out a priority BOLO for a twelve pound, pink, juvenile mini-piglet wearing purple pajamas with pink rosettes." He held the phone away from his ear, and we could all hear the raucous laughter at the other end of the call. "There's nothing funny about this, Officer. I'm completely serious. It could be a matter of life and death. I'm convinced the thief is a bitter, hard-boiled type who's out to wreak his revenge on his ex-wife and extract a bounty by holding the animal for ransom."

  I'd met Officer Fields before when my friend was hurt. He'd seemed like one of the good guys, a nuts and bolts cop who did his job for the reason written on the side of the car: To protect and serve. Fields, who had kept quiet the entire time so far, said softly, "That's one way to bring home the bacon."

  Marshall flashed him a look. Fran choked and took hold of my arm. Jimmy John kept quiet this time, but Sabrina, Paco, and Evan all took in a sharp breath.

  Sabrina began. "You don't mean you think he'll…"

  When she couldn't finish, Paco laid one hand on her shoulder and with the other made a throat-cutting motion with his index finger.

  Detective Marshall frowned and pointed one damning finger at Fields. "We better get back to the precinct and get things rolling. No time to make light of the situation, Officer. This is a serious matter. A life is at stake."

  Jimmy John leaned over and whispered next to my ear, "Or on the rotisserie."

  I hoped I was the only one who heard him, because I felt absolutely terrible about what had happened. I turned to Jimmy John. "Where should we look first?"

  He yawned. "Beats the heck out of me. I'm too tired to even think about it. Sorry, Sabrina. But it's been a long day. This is gonna have to wait until daylight at least."

  Marshall and Fields left but not before Marshall warned us. "Don't anyone leave town."

  After we said our goodbyes and left Sabrina, Paco, and Evan to their hand-wringing and moaning, Jimmy John, Fran, and I walked back up to the house where Jimmy John had parked his truck when he brought me over to the shelter at seven a.m. that morning to prep for the fund raiser. It was now after nine p.m. He'd been right when he said things needed to wait until later. I could barely drag myself into the cab.

  I must have looked as bad as I felt because Fran put her arm around me. "Why don't you and the Dark Lord of the Sith stay the night, Lizzie? You look like you're gonna fall down any minute here."

  That sounded like an excellent idea to me, and I nodded my acceptance of her invitation.

  "And I'd feel a lot better if you weren't alone tonight anyway." Who knows what they put in that nasty stuff you ate. Makes you wonder, don't it? What kind of man would drug a young woman just to get back at his ex-wife—no matter how unpleasant she might be?" She shot a look at Jimmy John.

  He pretended not to notice. "That's a good idea," he said. "I can swing around and pick you up in the morning, and if the cops haven't located Rosie, you and I can go out looking for her."

  Fran and I went up the porch steps, and she opened the front door, standing back to let me in first.

  Before she shut the door, she called out, "And maybe tomorrow, James, you can do some explaining to me 'bout what good reason you might have to be out gallivanting around with that hussy."

  Jimmy John's heavy sigh preceded, "Oh, Frannie, it isn't what you think."

  "It better not be," was all she said before turning and stalking into the house.

  Jimmy John stood with one foot on the ground and the other propped on the porch step. He looked older and more tired than I'd seen him look in a long time.

  Before he turned toward his truck, he said, "Considering this is an animal shelter, would it be too cliché to say it looks like I'm in the dog house?"

  "No. That's pretty accurate if you ask me." I yawned. So tired.

  I closed the door, and Vader and I made quick work of making ourselves comfortable in Fran's spare room. Evidently not all the drugs I'd been given had worked their way out of my system yet. I remembered crawling into bed and pulling the covers up, but nothing after that until my phone rang.

  I rolled over and looked at the clock on the bedside table.

  Twelve-thirty a.m. Really?

  I answered. "'Lo?"

  "Hey, chica." Tino's voice wasn't all I heard over the phone. There was a high-pitched squeal in the background.

  "Tino?" I was suddenly wide-awake. "What's wrong?"

  "Not a thing. I thought you'd want to know little Rosie's been found."

  "Really? Is she all right?"

  From the frantic squealing I had my doubts.

  "She's fine. Kinda dirty and pretty scared. But she looks great. After I heard the BOLO on the scanner, I called the police. They're going to call the communicator lady. I wanted to tell you because after what the police told me, I knew you had to be feeling pretty bad about the whole thing."

  "Oh my gosh. Thank you so much for letting me know. I'm so glad she's fine. Do you know who took her?"

  "Nope, but the police are on their way. I'm sure they'll investigate."

  He told me he was out by the lighthouse, which wasn't too far from Fran's place. I didn't want to wake her up, but I could no more stay away from out there than I could go back to sleep.

  So the minute I disconnected with Tino, I called Jimmy John.

  He was still up and said he'd be right over to pick me up.

  He seemed to understand that it was important for me to see with my own eyes that the piglet who'd gone missing on my watch was safe and sound. I also wanted to be there when she was reunited with Sabrina.

  I dressed quietly then let myself and my sleepy little pug silently out the front door to wait for Jimmy John.

  * * *

  Danger Cove and its environs don't cover all that much territory, and it was a short drive out past Second Chance to the area outside of town known as Two Mile Beach.

  The moon was waxing still, but it gave plenty of light from the reflection off the white beach sand. The harsh outlines of jagged rocks loomed here and there like monsters out of a child's nightmare. The silhouette of the lighthouse, situated on the rise above the beach, reached into the night sky.

  A BS 24-Hour Security pickup truck was down on the beach where the beam of a flashlight cut through the darkness. That would be Tino.

  Jimmy John parked, I put a leash on Vader, and we headed down past the vacant stalls from the Farmers Market that had been held earlier in the day.

  Behind us, the flash of headlights preceded the arrival of another vehicle, a PD squad car. The car doors slammed, and Lester Marshall and Officer Fred Fields caught up to us, both men huffing and puffing from their rush to beat us to the beach.

  "What are you two doing here?" Marshall demanded. "How is any of this your beeswax?"

  "Miss Ramirez asked me to come and make sure her pet is safe until she gets here." It was a lie, but I figured it was something Sabr
ina Ramirez might have asked me to do, so only a small lie.

  "Hmmph." Marshall snorted his disdain. "Does she think just because Danger Cove's a small town the PD can't keep a pig safe?"

  Jimmy's head was down, and his step hadn't slowed. Marshall, Fields, and even I had a hard time keeping up with him. I knew he was mentally counting to ten so he wouldn't bark at Marshall who was unpopular with most Covians, and downright disliked among many of us—Jimmy John fit into the dislike category. As well as I knew my granddad, I knew it must have been hard for him to bite his tongue. But he stayed quiet and kept walking.

  When we got down to where the BS 24-Hour truck sat on the beach, its amber light bar flashing, the first thing I was aware of was the sound of the little pig squealing. Vader began to tug at the leash and pull me along faster. He yipped. Rosie squealed back.

  I handed Vader's leash to my granddad, broke into a jog, took Rosie from Tino's arms, and began saying her name softly over and over and cradling her against me while I stroked her soft fur. It hardly took any time for her to calm down. She was just a young thing after all, and a little reassurance went a long way.

  Detective Marshall squared himself in front of Tino and didn't waste a breath. "Tell me everything."

  Tino began. "I came on at midnight and was on my third round when the headlights caught little Rosie there scooting up the rocks. I stopped and picked her up, called my supervisor, and then you. Since then, I've just been waiting here, trying to keep the little pig calm. She's pretty scared."

  Marshall spun around and shone his flashlight beam at Rosie, nearly blinding me while he was at it.

  "The jewels are gone." He whipped back to Tino. "You wouldn't know anything about that now, would you, Mr. Morales?"

  Tino shook his head. "I noticed she didn't have her collar anymore, but I don't know where it is. Why would I? Maybe she lost it on the beach."

  Marshall crossed his arms. "Not likely. I'm thinking more like somebody saw her and thought why not make a profit off finding the little porker. Maybe somebody like you, Morales."