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“No, go on, get out of my way.” Combs pushed the big pup. Shadow again tried to climb into his lap, making it impossible to drive. “Back! Shadow, get in the back.”
The dog wouldn’t stop crying. “I thought shepherds were supposed to be fierce, buddy. Can you give me a break?”
Combs opened one of the back windows partway. He remembered September always did that. Finally, Shadow pretzeled himself in the front passenger seat enough to turn around and squeeze through the narrow opening between the front seats into the back. He stuck half his head out the opening. And whined some more.
The dog shivered and panted, his sides a bellows until Combs feared he would pass out. The cold temperature made Shadow’s breath fog the glass, which then froze in fairy patterns, and Combs couldn’t tell if the pup was exhausted or excited. “Maybe both. Huh, boy?”
He didn’t know much about dogs. How September communicated with the pup was magical to him, and he hoped that would translate into the dog pointing to where she’d disappeared.
He’d planned to leave Shadow with the vet. But Doc Eugene had given Teddy a ride in his Jeep, so the dog had to stay with Combs. Finding the cat with GPS seemed a long shot at best, but he didn’t want to discourage Teddy. The old man had good intentions, and at this point Combs wouldn’t turn down any help.
Shadow’s tracking ability was their best shot. Amazing that the dog traveled so far from September’s abandoned car at the school, more than twelve miles before the Good Samaritan picked him up. Combs figured they’d start at the pickup point, turn the dog loose, and follow Shadow to wherever September was being held.
Combs’s phone rang, and the dog woofed. “Hold your horses, I’ll get it. Do you answer September’s phone for her, too?” Shadow barked again, and stuck his head back out the window. His tail waved. That meant he was happy, right?
He answered briskly. “Combs.”
“It’s me.” Gonzales spoke over crowd noises. “It’s a zoo here. More than two hundred people at the restaurant, it’ll take the rest of the night to process them. And you’re not going to believe this. Everybody here has one of those hats.”
Combs groaned. “What about the production personnel? Anyone missing?”
“We got the whole crew in custody. They made it easy, everyone sitting at the head table. Actually, three head tables but one with the stars and host—and Humphrey Fish. He’s eating this up, got his audio recorder going, and keeps lamenting the radio station didn’t set up a live feed.” He made a disgusted sound. “I had no idea it took so many people to point a camera. Some are missing, were outside smoking or whatever, and ducked out the back when we came in. Don’t know how many but we’ll get names and track them down. A guy named Felch, one of the stars, was a no show. The head honcho says he got an offer and took off for Hollywood.”
“You buying that?”
“Shit, no. Dietz—that’s the host producer guy—he’s squirmy as a cornered rat.”
“Nobody named Victor Grant in the group?” Of the dozen or so possibles Gonzales had found, only a few had previous run-ins with the law, and none were recent. “Got that picture of him with September?”
“Yeah, that and a bunch of other possibles.” The crowd noise waxed and waned. “Haven’t had a chance to show any pictures. If Grant’s our guy he probably changed his name. And maybe his face. Don’t actors do that a lot? You know, facelift and Botox and stuff.”
“What about Felch? He’s missing; September’s missing. Felch could be our guy. Might not be her stalker, could be somebody wanted to keep a lid on the contaminated pigs rumor. TV folks have the most to lose when word gets out about that.” He hesitated. “Listen, people hadn’t started eating that mess, had they?”
Gonzales sighed. “Some had, but got it shut down quick. Oh, and I sent your wife and kids on home, figured we could talk to them later.”
“My wife?” His foot jerked in reaction, and the car surged. Shadow barked and nose-poked him as if to chide his carelessness. “Cassie? She was there, with the kids?”
“Sorry, I mean ex-wife. Yeah, she was here with your two and a table full of teenage yahoos. Good kids I think, but causing a ruckus.”
Combs white-knuckled the steering wheel. Melinda had mentioned plans to attend the premier, even invited him. Why hadn’t he picked up on that? “They didn’t eat any of the, uh, the food, did they?” He licked his lips and cleared his throat.
Gonzales paused, and answered carefully. “Don’t know. Hey, they’ll be fine. Like I said, we got here as they started serving. I gotta go, but will keep you posted. You do the same.”
The phone went dead, but almost immediately rang again. Maybe it was Cassie? Or one of the kids? “This is Combs.”
“Detective, it’s me, Teddy. Where are you?”
Sighing, Combs relaxed his grip on the phone. “I’m on my way. We’re on our way, I mean. I got September’s dog.” At the last word, Shadow nose-poked him again as if to hurry them along. “ETA ten minutes.”
“Good. We’re at the intersection. And I got good news. The GPS works.”
