The Stolen Show Read online

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” Angie said.

  “I wish I was,” I said. “But if you don’t believe me, you can ask Charles—he’s an undercover Interpol agent. He’s been trying to catch this smuggler for a long time.”

  Everyone’s heads turned to look at Charles, who rewarded them with a slight grin and a crisp bow.

  “This smuggler was so threatened by my presence,” I continued, “that they had their thugs kidnap my friend Bess from the masquerade ball two nights ago.”

  Another gasp from the room.

  “They said that they’d release Bess only if I stopped sniffing around. But I didn’t stop, and I also didn’t wait for them to let her go. What the smuggler doesn’t know is that not only did we already rescue Bess last night, but both accomplices have been apprehended by Interpol.”

  At that, there was a clatter. I looked around and saw that Helen’s cell phone had fallen to the floor. I caught a glimpse of the screen before it shut off—a chat window with someone named Jeffrey.

  “He’s not going to answer you, Helen,” I said, slowly. “Or should I say, Sapphire?”

  Helen bent to retrieve her phone from the floor, got up to press the wrinkles from her slacks, and pushed a stray lock of hair carefully behind her ear. “Well, Nancy,” she said, her honeyed voice dripping with malice. “Aren’t you a clever girl?”

  “If I’ve learned anything from being in this dog show,” I said, “it’s that people are a lot like their dogs. Dobermans are brilliant, aggressive dogs. Dogs you wouldn’t want to mess around with. Kind of like you. Right, Helen?”

  Daisy sat up at attention as Helen rose to her feet. “You know, you’re right. Daisy and I do have a lot in common.” she said. “Not only does she put on a good show, she’s a fabulous attack dog too.” Helen then unbuckled Daisy’s collar and tucked it into her purse. She walked over to the door and threw it open. Before fleeing, she turned, pointed to me, and shouted, “Daisy! Attack!”

  The Doberman’s lip curled as a menacing growl started deep in her throat. Before I could make a single move, she took a step toward me, teeth bared.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Collared

  THE SECONDS PASSED LIKE MINUTES as I stood, staring into Daisy’s dark eyes, waiting for her to attack. Helen had run out the door and was gone. Everyone else in the room was rooted to the spot, afraid that any movement would only make the big dog lash out at them, too. Even the other dogs looked scared—Pia the shih tzu was trembling in Alice’s arms, and Shirley the basset hound’s expression was even more worried than usual.

  I knew I had mere moments before the Doberman leaped on me, just as her owner had commanded her to. I had to think fast. But what could I do?

  I didn’t have anything to defend myself with. I’d left my bag with George when I had to do the show with Marge. All I had in my pockets was what I needed to be her handler—

  That’s it, I thought.

  All I had was all I needed.

  Trying to move as slowly as possible, I reached into my pocket and found the little plastic clicker Louise had given me to help work with Marge. I quickly pressed the button, which emitted two loud, tonal clicks. For a second, Daisy’s growl faltered and she cocked her head. She was confused—she was about to attack me, but I was using a signal that signified that a treat was coming. It distracted her for only an instant, but that was enough.

  “José,” I called out to the wrestler. “Take her down! Now!”

  In a flash, the huge man got a running start and slid on his knees toward Daisy. Before the Doberman knew what was happening, José had locked his strong arms in a seat-belt grip over the dog’s one shoulder and under the other arm before pulling her up and into his lap. The dog’s arms and legs flailed in the air, and she growled and barked furiously, trying to turn her head enough to bite her attacker. But José was able to keep his chin tucked tight to her shoulder and out of harm’s way. “Shhhh,” he cooed at the furious dog, who, despite her size, looked like a puppy in his enormous arms. “It’s gonna be okay,” he said. “Just calm down, little girl.”

  I shook my head in disbelief and ran over to Charles, who was already on the phone, calling for backup from Interpol. “All agents—perp is on the run. Monitor all exits and apprehend on sight,” he was saying. When he saw me run up, he pulled the phone away from his face. “Mademoiselle, are you all right?” he asked.

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine,” I said impatiently. “Which way did she go?”

  “You must be very pleased,” Charles continued, ignoring my question. “Your hunch was correct.”

  “Charles!” I exclaimed. “Tell me where she went!”

  Charles reached out and grabbed me by the shoulders. “Mademoiselle Drew, the situation is under control. There is no way that Madame Sapphire can escape—my agents have every door covered and are swarming the place as we speak. In mere moments, she will be in our custody. It’s over.”

  I shook my head. “No,” I said, thinking about how I’d felt when Bess was in danger. “I’m seeing this one to the end.” Running over to Angie, I took Marge’s lead back from her and sped from the room, the bull terrier running obediently by my side. A crowd of showgoers was milling around outside the door, and I struggled to push my way through them, craning my neck for a glimpse of Helen. Suddenly a hand grabbed my arm and I whirled around—but it was just Louise.

  “Nancy!” she said. “Is everything okay? You’re as white as a ghost!”

  “Have you seen Helen?” I asked quickly. “Helen Bradley—have you seen her?”

  Louise crinkled her brows and said, “Hmm, I might have seen her on the way up to the balcony a minute ago. Looked like she was in an awful hurry. Can’t imagine why . . .” I started to take off toward the stairs when Louise stopped me. “Hey now, slow down, Red! Why in the world are you chasing Helen Bradley?”

  I took a deep breath. “She’s an international jewel smuggler trying to escape from Interpol,” I said all at once.

  Louise blinked twice. “Oh,” she said.

  “I’ll explain later!” I said, and handed Marge’s leash to her.

  “No—take her with you,” Louise urged, handing me Marge’s lead and nudging the dog toward me. “You never know when you might need a little extra muscle.”

  I nodded and motioned for the bull terrier to follow. Marge and I pushed through the crowd and made our way to the stairs. We took the steps two at a time. When we got to the balcony, which curved around the back half of the stage and looked down on the ring below, it looked deserted. The guests must have all still been downstairs getting refreshments before the big winner was announced. I took a few steps forward, peering down the aisles, to see if someone might be hiding there, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Could Louise have been mistaken about seeing Helen go this way?

  I turned around to head back downstairs and pulled on Marge’s lead, but she didn’t budge. I pulled a little harder and was about to call the dog’s name, but then I noticed how still Marge was. She was standing at attention, as if she were being examined by one of the judges, and her eyes were focused on a single point in the distance. Silently, I followed her gaze to a pillar near the far end of the balcony. A pillar just wide enough to conceal a person behind it.

  Swallowing hard, I began walking toward the pillar, taking one careful step at a time. “Helen,” I called out, “I know you’re there. You’re going to have to give up now—Interpol has the place locked down.”

  There was a pause, and then a chuckle. “You think this is the worst situation I’ve been in?” a voice finally said. “Not even close. Although you certainly have made things difficult for me. I quite enjoyed being sweet, darling Helen Bradley. I suppose now I’ll have to come up with something else. Maybe a brunette this time . . .” Helen’s voice trailed off. But then she asked, “Just out of curiosity, how did you know?”

  I took a couple more steps. “It was a lot of little things, really,” I said. “You were there when Louise
first asked me to investigate the matter with Marshmallow—so if you’d overheard the conversation, you’d have been one of the first people who knew I was even a detective. Then later, Valencia told me you’d gotten Best in Show in Helsinki, and I remembered that Charles had said that Finland was the last place he’d been investigating in the case. Then, after Bess was kidnapped, you were the only one who specifically asked about her the first day of the show. It was meant to look like interest and concern—but you were really just checking to make sure I would lie about what was really going on, that I was holding up my end of the bargain and keeping my mouth shut.”

  “And all the while you were planning on breaking into my hideout yourself,” Helen said. “Hunting the hunter, eh, Nancy? Very clever.”

  “Cleverer than those two goons you had working for you,” I said. “It was them you were texting all those times on your phone—not your husband and kids. Actually, it was that phone of yours that finally clinched it for me.”

  “Oh? How so?” Helen asked.

  “When we first ran into you on the street, I got a glimpse of the background on your phone—a picture of your so-called family and Daisy. But although I’ve never seen your husband and kids, I did see your dog after that. And the dog in that picture isn’t Daisy, is it? Daisy has two tan spots above her eyes—very distinctive markings. The dog in the picture doesn’t. It’s a stock photo. I even found it online.” I was so close now, only a few feet away.

  “You’re starting to annoy me, Nancy.” Helen’s voice had been playful before, but now all hints of pleasantness were gone. “I don’t appreciate you taking apart all my carefully laid plans. I don’t think you’re a very nice girl.”

  “You think that everyone else is too stupid to look closely at you,” I said, still moving forward. “That no one would expect someone who looks like an innocent suburban mom to be a criminal. So you got cocky. You even gave yourself a code name that gives the game away. Not only the name of a pretty jewel, but also the color of your eyes—”

  I took one last step toward the pillar and saw Helen’s furious face peering out at me from behind it.

  “Sapphire.”

  With a cry of rage, Helen leaped out of her hiding place and ran at me. The attack took me a little by surprise, but I had just enough time to brace myself in a defensive crouch. Helen tackled me and tried to pull me to the ground, but I kept my elbows tight to my chest and my hands up, so she wasn’t able to get a good grip. When her initial attack failed, she then got low and wrapped her arms around my waist, driving me backward toward the balcony railing. My breath started coming in quick gasps as I realized how low the railing was, and how high up we were. Dimly, I heard the sound of barking, but it was hard to hear anything over the sound of my heart roaring in my ears. With a grunt, I pushed down on Helen’s head and splayed my legs back out to try and get back some of my balance and keep her from pushing me any nearer to the railing. But Helen’s anger had given her strength, and despite all my efforts, we were still inching closer and closer to the edge.

  And then—a miracle.

  “Stop! Police! Put your hands where we can see them!”

  I lifted my eyes to see Charles flanked by three uniformed officers, and none other than the intrepid Marge standing at his feet, her tail wagging.

  Helen looked up too, and at the sight of the Interpol agents, all the fight went out of her. She let go of me and sagged into one of the front-row seats in the balcony, looking out at the ring below. “Well,” she said with a sigh. “It was a good run while it lasted.”

  Charles rushed up and ordered the other officers to put Helen in handcuffs and read her rights to her. Marge trotted up to me and licked my hand. “You ran off once Helen jumped out at me, didn’t you?” I said to the dog. “You went to get help. Good girl!” I scratched her behind her ears, and her little eyes squeezed shut with pleasure.

  “Mademoiselle Drew,” Charles said, walking up to me with his hands on his hips. “If I was not so pleased that this criminal has finally been apprehended, I would have half a mind to call your father. Do you always insist on being so outrageously reckless?”

  I cocked my head. “Possibly—but then again, I’ve been in worse spots than this. And besides, if you called my father, he’d probably tell you to pat me on the back and give me a medal.”

  Charles shook his head. “I know Americans are crazy, but you, mademoiselle, you are in a league of your own.”

  “Thank you,” I said with a smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  We followed the officers and Helen back down to the first floor, where George and Louise were waiting, looking a bit frantic. When they saw me, they both rushed over. “Red!” Louise exclaimed. “Good gracious, what is going on? Interpol? International jewel smugglers? This is a dog show, not a James Bond movie!”

  I blushed. “I’m sorry, Louise. I promise I’ll explain everything later, but for now, suffice it to say that Bess got kidnapped, George and I rescued her, Alice drugged Marshmallow Fluff and feels really bad about it, Joe is really a famous professional wrestler, Charles is a secret agent, and Helen is a wanted criminal.”

  With every word, Louise’s eyes got bigger and bigger, and her jaw dropped just a little more. A moment later I saw several more officers coming toward us, holding a very panicked-looking man who was also in handcuffs. I recognized him immediately: the distracted judge. “So he was the buyer!” I said to Charles. “I thought he might be.”

  Charles nodded. “He came up to us carrying a suitcase full of cash. Figured he was going to get caught and was hoping to buy himself some goodwill. The only missing piece is the jewels themselves. We’ve already gone through all of Helen’s bags and belongings and haven’t been able to find a thing.”

  “Hmm,” I said, mulling over a couple of small details in my mind. “I might just be able to help you with that, too.” I walked over to the officers, who had Helen seated in a chair while they filled out some paperwork. “Did you happen to find a dog collar with her? Bright blue and leather?” The officers dug through Helen’s handbag and fished out Daisy’s collar, which Helen had removed before running off. At first I’d just thought she was doing it to let Daisy loose, but what if it was more than that? As it was handmade, it wasn’t just a flat collar like many of the other dogs wore, but was made of leather folded over on itself and stitched shut. I examined the buckle and saw that it was shoved into the leather—not glued or stitched. Slowly I wiggled the buckle free, exposing the hollow inner core of the collar.

  “Mon Dieu . . . ,” Charles whispered as I shook the collar, and a cascade of glittering diamonds, rubies, and sapphires came pouring out into my hand.

  “The jewels were never on Helen’s person at all,” I said, piecing it together. “That’s how she got everything through customs. They were always hidden with Daisy. And no one ever thought to check the dog.”

  Charles took the jewels from me and grinned. “Perhaps I will call your father after all,” he said. “I’d like to ask him if he would consider allowing you to stay here in Quebec permanently. You could have a bright future waiting for you at Interpol!”

  “Hey!” George cut in. “Nancy’s got her hands full back in River Heights. If you want her for another case, you’re going to have to fly us all back here for it—all expenses paid. And I expect a lot of poutine.”

  Charles and I laughed. Then the voice of the announcer boomed over the noise of the crowd. “Attention! The judges have made their decision. Please make your way back to your seats for the announcement of the Best in Show!”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Every Dog Has Her Day

  WITH ONE LESS DOG AND one less judge in the ring, there was a bit of confusion in the stands, where news of the arrest was spreading like wildfire. “Silence, s’il vous plaît!” the announcer was saying for the third time. Finally the noise in the crowd died down, and one of the remaining two judges got up to approach the line of finalists. It was Alice and Pia, José and
Shirley, Charles and Coco, Valencia and Hollywood, Angie and Marshmallow, and me and Marge at the end. Helen had been taken away by the Interpol agents, and Daisy was being attended to by a couple of the show assistants, who’d been feeding her dog biscuits when we left them. Apparently, soon after José had tackled her, she’d given up the fight and had been as docile as a puppy ever since.

  “What do you think is going to happen to Daisy after all this is over?” I whispered to Angie.

  She shrugged. “No idea. She’s not a bad sort—just been taught a few naughty tricks. Her owner certainly belongs behind bars, but that poor dog didn’t do anything to deserve the same treatment.”

  I nodded. “I’m sure she’ll be able to find a new home—a beautiful dog like that? Oh! The judge . . .” I quickly stood at attention and had Marge do the same. The judge, a petite woman with short black hair and almond-shaped eyes, had reached us and was standing before the line of dogs and handlers. In her hand was a large purple-and-gold ribbon. Seeing that the announcement of the winner was imminent, the rowdy audience went dead silent.

  “Here we go,” I heard Angie whisper. I watched as she closed her eyes and muttered a silent prayer, one hand on Marshmallow Fluff’s furry head, the other on her heart.

  “First,” the judge spoke into her microphone, her voice amplified throughout the arena, “I’d like to thank you all for a wonderful exhibition. Despite the, uh, unexpected developments, you have all handled this competition with skill and pride. We had fine choices in each breed, but at the end of the day, one dog rose above the rest to become the next Best in Show! And that dog is . . .”

  Everyone seemed to hold their breath in that moment. Who would it be?

  “Our Old English sheepdog—Marshmallow Fluff!”

  The entire crowd exploded in cheers as the judge handed the ribbon to Angie, who was paralyzed with shock. “Angie!” I shouted, grabbing her hands. “You did it! You won!”