Дебора Хоу - Howliday Inn

“Oh no,” she said. “The gate! It’s open!”

“How can it be?” Harrison asked. “There’s no way any of the animals could open that lock.”

“I don’t know,” Jill said, her brow wrinkled in confusion and distress. “Unless one of us …” She stopped speaking then, and a strange expression came over her face.

“What is it?” Harrison asked. “What’s the matter?”

“I did it,” she said after a minute. Her voice was soft and a little wavery.

“What do you mean?” Harrison queried. His eyebrows came together to form a hedge across his forehead.

“I did it,” Jill repeated. “I left the gate open. Don’t you remember? When I ran in to get the towels, I accidentally let the office door lock behind me, so I had to go back by the gate. I was in such a hurry and it was raining so badly, I guess I just didn’t notice … I …” Her shoulders slumped, and it was another moment before she spoke again. In the interim, a flash of lightning ripped through the sky, letting us know that the storm was not yet over. “Oh, I feel terrible,” Jill went on. “It’s all my fault. What are we going to do?”

Much to my surprise, Harrison came over to Jill and put his arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry,” he said softly, “we’ll find her. It was a mistake. It could have happened to anyone. Come on. Let’s give everyone breakfast, and then you and I will go out looking for her.”

Jill seemed as surprised as I was at Harrison’s concern. She looked at him warily out of the corner of her eyes. “What if we don’t find her?” she asked.

“Then she’ll find us,” Harrison said calmly. “She’ll wind her way back home sooner or later.” He smiled then and said gently, “Okay?”

“Okay,” Jill replied, accepting Harrison’s attempts at reassurance, and together they went back inside the office.

AFTER breakfast, Chester and I put our heads together to consider Louise’s escape. Harrison and Jill had let us out early for exercise, since there was no way of knowing when the storm would start up again.

“What did I tell you?” Chester asked me.

“I give up,” I answered, not at all sure what he was referring to.

“Didn’t I say there would be trouble?”

“What trouble?” I countered. “Louise ran away. Makes sense, if you ask me.”

“Oh, really?”

“Sure.”

“Would you care to enlarge on your theory?”

“I’d be delighted,” I replied. “Louise was very upset about Max’s flirting with Georgette. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“So, when she saw that the front gate had been left open last night, she seized the opportunity to run off and teach Max a lesson. She’ll be back.”

“And that’s it?”

“Simple, really. Just opened the door to her bungalow, and out she went.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Chester replied, licking his paws. His long tongue moved slowly between each of his toes as he reflected on what I’d said. No doubt he was impressed with my powers of deduction. “And did she unlock Max’s door, too?”

“Huh?” I asked, completely thrown. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is that Max’s door was open this morning, too. You may not have noticed that, but I did. You have to learn to be observant in this business, Harold.”

“What business is that, Chester?”

“The business of crime detection,” Chester answered, neatly snapping his head in my direction to look me squarely in the eyes.

“Crime detection?” I responded. I could feel the hairs along the back of my neck rise slightly. Chester has always had the ability to alarm me, often unnecessarily. I was hoping this was the case. “Chester,” I said, “I think you’re getting carried away.”

“On the contrary,” he replied, “it may well have been Louise who was carried away.”

“Oh,” was all I could say, for Max’s voice suddenly bellowed throughout Chateau Bow-Wow.

“It’s no good,” he groaned, “no good!” Chester and I looked out to see him sitting in the middle of the compound, a forlorn expression smeared across his face like after-breakfast jam. The ever-present Georgette was at his side.

“Now, Max, you mustn’t carry on so,” she said softly.

“Hussy,” I heard myself utter under my breath.

“I can’t help it, Georgette,” Max cried, his voice cracking. “It’s all my fault this happened. I never should have spoken to her the way I did.”

I could see Taxi moving in Max’s direction; Max looked up and saw him coming.

“I’m sorry, Max, I—” Taxi started to say.

“Not now, Taxi!” Max fairly shouted.

“But, Max—”

“No, Taxi, I want to be alone!” And Max picked himself up and lumbered back to his bungalow. Georgette followed. He turned to her suddenly and said, “Please, Georgette. I need some … space.”

“Of course,” she answered, her feathery voice at its featheriest, “I understand. This is not the time for … us.”

She turned and walked away, her spirit trailing behind her like a long shadow on a sultry summer day. Taxi, meanwhile, stood in the center of the compound. From the look on his face, he was not pleased that Max had dismissed him so abruptly. After a moment’s deliberation, he moved away toward one corner of the compound and began to scratch himself behind the ears.

“Come on,” Chester said to me, “we’ve got some exploring to do.”

“Okay,” I answered, “but I don’t know what you expect to find. Anyway, if you’re suspecting Max of anything, I guess you can rule him out now. Boy, is he upset. Poor fella.”

“Is he?” Chester asked pointedly. “Perhaps he is a ‘poor fella,’ as you say. Or perhaps a poor actor putting on a good show.”

We were walking in the direction of Louise’s bungalow when we bumped into Howard and Heather. They both jumped in surprise.

“Sorry,” I said, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Oh … oh … it’s nothing,” Howard said. “No, it’s nothing—”

“—at all,” said Heather. “Oh my, I’m so jumpy today. I don’t feel quite myself. No, I—”

“Sorry about that beastly howling last night, old chap,” Howard said to me. He turned with a nod to Chester. “Certainly hope we weren’t the cause of Louise’s … uh …”

“… departure,” Heather added. She giggled suddenly. And then, just as suddenly, she gasped and tried to catch her breath.

“What is it?” Howard cried.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Heather replied, after letting out a great sigh. “I’m having such trouble breathing today. I don’t know what … it … is …” She looked at Howard, her big eyes wide in bewilderment. The two of them stared at each other a long moment, their heads bobbing up and down in unison.

“I think we’d better—” Howard began.

“—go home,” Heather finished. “Yes, dear. I think we’d best. Do excuse us,” she said, turning to us. “I’m just not—”

“—herself,” said Howard. And they turned and left. Chester and I watched them go.

“Typical werewolvian behavior,” said Chester, his voice full of authority. I’m sure I would have asked him to elaborate, if it were not for the fact that I didn’t really care in the least what he had to say. So I changed the subject.

“Weren’t we going to do some exploring?” I asked.

“Yes,” Chester answered, snapping himself out of his pensive mood. “Follow me.”

I followed Chester to Louise’s bungalow, where we stood for what felt like a long time, staring at the emptiness inside. “Just think,” I said, feeling a tear come to my eye, “last night she was here. Today, she’s gone.”

“Yes,” said Chester slowly. “That’s exactly the word. ‘Gone.’ ”