AS WE MADE OUR WAY back to Château Frontenac, moments after I’d texted George to meet us in the lobby, I spied Louise and Angie walking out the front door, with Marge and Marshmallow Fluff in tow. Angie was holding both leashes so Louise could concentrate on walking with her crutch.
“Aha,” said Louise as we approached, eyeing us both suspiciously. “Are you consorting with the enemy now, Nancy—or just grilling him for information?”
Charles coughed and gave me a warning look.
“I was just getting a little overheated inside that crowded ballroom,” I lied, “so he brought me out here for some fresh air.”
“How kind of you, Chuck,” Louise said, still suspicious. Charles cringed visibly at the nickname. “But don’t think you can charm your way to Best in Show!” She waggled her finger at him disdainfully before turning to me again. “Where are your two girlfriends, anyway? Why didn’t they help you?”
Charles coughed again, more forcefully this time.
Louise stared at him. “What’s with you?” she asked. “Cold getting to you?”
“Uh, the girls turned in early for the night,” I said quickly. I felt terrible for lying to Louise, but I had no choice. “It’s been a long day for all of us.” I turned to the dogs, hoping to change the subject. “Oh, Marshmallow—you look well after your ordeal!” Sure enough, the big white dog seemed no worse for wear, except for some small tufts of hair missing from a couple of spots on her back. Her huge pink tongue lolled out in excitement at the sound of her name, and she happily slurped my hand, covering it entirely with goo.
“Yech,” I said with a strained smile as I wiped it on my coat. “Good girl. Nice girl.”
“I did my best with her coat,” Angie said with a shrug. “The gum wasn’t that badly stuck, so I got most of it off without having to cut the fur. Hopefully it won’t hurt her chances with the judges too much.”
“It’s hardly noticeable,” I assured her, scratching the big sheepdog behind the ears. “She’s a great dog, They’d be fools not to see that.”
Angie beamed, and the dogs began to pull impatiently on their leads. “Duty calls!” Angie called out, and the two women walked past us down the sidewalk.
“Whew,” I said to Charles when they were finally gone, letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “I hate not being able to tell her what’s really going on.”
“It’s the only way to keep everyone safe—and find your friend,” Charles assured me. “Keep the circle small. Louise Alain keeps secrets like a sieve holds water—she’s the last person who needs to know all this.” He held open the door and I walked inside.
I smirked. “You just don’t like that she calls you Chuck.”
“Pah!” Charles spat. “ ‘Chuck’ is what you call a call a piece of meat—and not a very good one, mind you.” Clearly, I had hit a nerve.
“Fine,” I agreed. “We won’t tell Louise. But not telling George is a deal breaker. She and I come as a pair.”
Charles sighed hugely and pinched the bridge of his long nose with his manicured fingers. “All right, all right! You can tell her. Ach . . . one little girl detective is bad enough, and now I have to deal with two. . . .”
I crossed my arms and gave him a stern look. “Without this ‘little girl,’ Monsieur Dubois, you would have no leads at all!”
Charles raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alors, you are correct, mademoiselle. Let’s find Mademoiselle George and get upstairs quickly so I can contact my superiors.”
George appeared from a hallway just as Charles and I walked into the crowded lobby. Apparently the masquerade ball had just ended, and guests were still milling about before heading up to their rooms for the night. “George!” I called out over the murmur of conversations. She heard me and hurried over, casting a questioning look at Charles standing beside me. “Um, I’ll explain in the elevator,” I murmured, casting glances around at who might be listening.
George nodded wordlessly and followed Charles and me into the closest elevator, where two other guests were standing. Charles pushed the button for the penthouse. Just as the doors were about to close, Valencia Vasquez glided into the elevator. “Ah!” she sighed with relief. “Just made it.” She yawned luxuriously, and in the waft of her breath came the distinct scent of cherries. I wrinkled my nose—not my favorite smell. “So,” she said, eyeing me, “did you enjoy the party, Nancy?”
“It certainly was something,” I said truthfully.
“I saw your friend nabbed the handsome wolf man as her dance partner. I have to admit, I’m a little jealous,” she told us.
I felt my breath catch in my throat and Charles stiffen beside me. “Who is he, anyway?” I asked carefully. “Have you seen him before—one of the dog owners, maybe?”
V shook her head. “No, I’d remember him if I had. And anyway, I overheard him telling her that he doesn’t even like dogs, so I can’t imagine why he’d want to hang out with the likes of us!” She laughed. “Well,” she said as the elevator doors opened. “This is me! Good night, all!”
It wasn’t until the final guest had departed and the elevator doors were shut that Charles stabbed the emergency stop button. The car lurched to a halt in between floors, and George nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Hey!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing? Nancy, should I punch this guy or what?”
“No, no!” I stammered. “He’s okay—Charles is with the international police! He’s undercover.”
“Oh,” George said, sagging with relief. And then a moment later, “Oh!” She perked up again, realizing the elevator was less dangerous and the situation more interesting than she’d expected. She waggled her eyebrows. “A secret agent! Wait . . . so you must have been right, Nancy—this is about more than just some chewing gum, isn’t it?”
I nodded. “A lot more.” While I filled George in, Charles took a photograph with his phone of the grayish-white fibers I’d found in the tire tracks and sent it to his bosses at Interpol. By the time I had finished my story, Charles’s phone had already binged an answer.
“Paper fibers,” he said, looking up at us, “probably from a pulping factory. That’s their best guess without actually seeing the evidence firsthand. It’s a good guess—there are quite a few such factories in the city, and some of them are abandoned. We’ve seen them used before as hideouts. . . .” Charles tapped his chin, looking like he was piecing it all together. “At this time of year they would need to turn on the power for heat. Which would require going to the factory before picking her up . . .”
“Okay—let’s go! What are we waiting for?” George said, moving to restart the elevator.
Charles turned to her, clearly shaken out of his thoughtful reverie. He put his hand on George’s arm. “Mademoiselle,” he said, “it is not that easy. We can’t just go running to every factory in town looking for your friend. These fibers might not have anything to do with the kidnapping, even. Let the professionals do their work. I promise you, I will keep you and Nancy updated.”
George opened her mouth to argue, but I shook my head. George swallowed the words and stood silent, her face a thundercloud.
“Merci,” Charles said. “For now, let us go back to our rooms. It’s late, and tomorrow is a big day . . . for more reasons than one. No matter what, you two need to act as if everything is normal. Your friend Bess has taken ill, or gone on an errand—something to explain her absence. If the enemy catches wind of my identity, or that you two are still actively trying to root him out, I cannot guarantee the safety of Mademoiselle Marvin.”
I gritted my teeth. Doing nothing was never my strong suit. But there was no other way right now. I nodded.
“Bien,” Charles said approvingly. “The show must go on.” He then restarted the elevator and pushed the button for the ninth floor, where most of the dog show competitors were staying. “Ach!” Charles exclaimed as the elevator lurched into life once again. “In all the excitement, I’ve forgotten all about young Coco. She’ll need walking, and here I am with all this work to do.”
“We’d be happy to walk her for you,” I offered. “I need the practice . . . and frankly, I can’t imagine getting much sleep tonight, with things as they are.”
Charles looked at the two of us skeptically, but finally relented. “D’accord. But please, whatever you do, don’t allow her to consort with neighborhood mongrels or eat any rubbish from the ground! That’s the last thing I need. First a kidnapping, then a dog with a tummy ache on show day . . .”
Ten minutes later, after a lengthy speech about Coco’s very particular care, George and I were back on the street, walking Coco the Weimaraner around the perimeter of the hotel. “I don’t know what Charles was talking about,” George commented. “I think this dog would rather starve to death than eat anything other than gourmet cuisine.”
I chuckled. Like her owner, Coco Diamonds Are Forever was used to the finer things in life. She walked with her elegant gray head held high, looking down on any other dogs that came by and barked or tried to sniff her. Louise certainly seemed to be onto something with the idea that dogs mirrored their owners.
“Hey,” George said quietly as we turned a corner. “Isn’t that Joe? That big guy from the dog show?”
I looked where she was pointing and saw a hulk of a man across the street from us, wearing a brown parka and walking a basset hound, who herself was dressed in a fleece overcoat and boots. “I think so,” I replied, squinting to see better in the dark.
As we watched, another man jogged to catch up with him. He said something to Joe, but instead of stopping to talk to him, Joe waved the man away and began to walk faster. However, this didn’t seem to deter the man, who pursued Joe down the street.
“Let’s cross here,” I muttered to George, who nodded knowingly. I wanted to see exactly how this was going to play out.
Pulling our own parkas down over our faces, we followed a little ways back as the man tried to keep pace with Joe’s enormous strides away from him down a deserted side street. “Wait up,” the man called out. “Bull’s-Eye!”
At that, Joe stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and allowed the man to catch up with him. George and I dove behind a Dumpster to avoid being seen as Joe whirled around and grabbed the man by his coat collar, lifting him up from the ground like he weighed nothing.
The man yelped in shock. “Hey!” he protested, squirming in Joe’s grip. “Let me go!”
Joe’s voice was low and dangerous. “Listen very closely,” he said. “You don’t know me. Do you understand? You’ve never seen me before.”
“Uh, okay,” the man said, his voice full of fear. “Okay, man, be cool. I didn’t mean any harm. Please.”
Joe dropped the man, and he stumbled as he landed back on his feet. “You best remember that,” he said. He took a wallet from his pants pocket and pulled a few bills from it. “Here,” he said, handing the money to the man. “This never happened. Clear?”
“Y-yeah,” the man stammered, stuffing the cash into his pocket. “Crystal.”
The basset hound growled as the man backed away.
“It’s okay, Shirley,” Joe said, patting her on the head. “Let him go.”
The man ran past us without noticing, intent on getting as far away as possible. Taking a page from his book, George and I snuck away while Joe was still focused on his dog.
Once we’d put a block of pavement between Joe and us, George and I brought Coco into a late-night café to catch our breath and warm up from the cold. “What was that about, do you think?” George asked.
I bit my lip. “Joe’s hiding something, that much is clear. We should keep a close eye on him—if he’s involved in this, he might be able to lead us to Bess.”
Bess.
Saying her name gave both of us pause. Where is she right now? I wondered. Is she hurt? Is she scared?
Back at the hotel, we returned Coco to Charles, and I invited George to stay with me in my room overnight. I didn’t want to be alone, and I could tell she didn’t want to be either. We both changed into pajamas and climbed into the big queen-size bed. We could almost pretend it was just another normal sleepover. After a while, I heard George’s breathing grow regular as exhaustion finally overtook her worried mind.
Me, I watched the minutes pass on the bedside clock, each one feeling like an eternity.
Bess.
I sent a message out into the world, imagining that she could hear me, wherever she was.
I’ll find you. Just hang on.
Somehow, at some point, I fell asleep.