Read Barking Detective 04 - The Chihuahua Always Sniffs Twice for Free Online Page B

said.
    Boswell frowned. “I think he’s taking advantage of the trust,” he said.
    “What do you mean?”
    “Well, under the terms of the trust, he gets paid every time he provides any veterinary services for the dogs,” Boswell said, “but I’m beginning to think he’s scheduling unnecessary procedures just to make a little extra money.”
    “How would we know, Barry?” Yolanda asked. “We’re not veterinarians. We have to trust his judgment.”
    “There is another vet in town,” Boswell pointed out. “Maybe we need to get a second opinion.”
    Just then the tea arrived on a fancy silver tray, complete with delicate bone china cups, painted with floral designs and rimmed with gold. We each had our own cup and saucer, plus Yolanda poured a little bit of tea out into saucers for each of the dogs. There were also tiny bits of toast for the dogs, cut into diamonds and smeared with some kind of liver pâté.
    Boswell noticed my raised eyebrows.
    “It’s one of the terms of the trust,” he said. “The caretaker of the dogs is to provide them with high tea every day.”
    “Do they like it?” I asked. I didn’t think tea would be good for dogs.
    But Pepe seemed to be enjoying it. He was polishing off his toast when the doorbell rang. The melody was familiar. I think it was “God Save the Queen.”
    Clara came into the room and had a whispered conversation in Spanish with Yolanda. Yolanda looked frightened and hurried out into the hall.
    “What’s going on, Pepe?” I asked. But before he could answer, Yolanda returned, clutching a fat envelope.
    “It’s an envelope from Bernard Bickerstaff,” she said. “It came certified. I had to sign for it.” She handed the envelope to Boswell. “Will you tell me what it says? You know I’m not comfortable with legal documents.”
    “Hmmm,” said Boswell, setting down his teacup. He examined the postmark. “It appears he mailed this yesterday. How unfortunate!” He pried open the flap and pulled out a sheaf of papers, stapled at one corner. As he read them, his brow furrowed, and the color drained from his face.
    “What is it?” Yolanda asked.
    “Calm down, my dear,” Boswell told her. “This has infinitely more to do with me than with you.”
    “Just tell her what it is, will you?” said Clara, crossing to Yolanda and putting a hand on her shoulder. “You know how my aunt worries.”
    Boswell cleared his throat, then spoke in a somber tone. “You know Lucille’s children hired Bickerstaff to represent them?”
    She nodded.
    “Well, this is notification that they have filed a lawsuit against the trust. And me, personally, I might add.”
    “Oh, no,” said Yolanda. “How can they do that? And why would they send this to me?”
    “Because, according to the terms of the trust, you are the legal caretaker of the dogs. As such, you are naturally included,” he told her. “There might be a letter waiting for me back at my office.” He looked thoughtful. “I wonder if that was what Bernie was looking for.”
    “What’s the basis of the lawsuit?” I asked.
    “They are claiming that Lucille was not of sound mind when she established the trust.” He sighed. “And that those who profited from it”—he glanced up at Yolanda—“somehow coerced her into setting it up for our own monetary gain.”

Chapter 10
    Jimmy G stared at the limousine. Nothing was visible behind the smoked glass. He looked at the man at his side, noting the width of his shoulders and the size of his biceps. He knew better than to get into a limousine with a stranger. He had seen too many films in which people got taken for one-way rides.
    Stalling for time, he pulled a cigar out of his pocket. Smoking a cigar always helped him think. He unwrapped the stogie and fired it up with his Zippo.
    “You don’t want to keep my boss waiting,” said the man, pointing at the idling limo. “Get in.”
    “Don’t think so. Why would Jimmy G do that?”
    The rear window of the limo