Chihuahua of the Baskervilles Read Online Free Page A

will have TV show soon.” He shot a glance at Charlotte. “It will be excellent for Petey’s Closet to sponsor it.”
    Michael lifted his notebook. “What’s the show’s name?”
    Charlotte smiled a little wearily. “There’s no show. I’d love to help Ivan, but I have too much on my plate to get involved with a new project.” She looked at the ground Ivan had been examining. “Oh, you’ve put stakes around the tracks—what a good idea.”
    He glowered at her. “All Ivan’s ideas are excellent.”
    Charlotte pushed him gently to one side. “See the little paw prints? They glow in the dark.”
    “Could you all stand back a little?” Suki came forward and shot a series of pictures from overhead.
    Michael took a small device from his pocket.
    “Is that ghost meter?” Ivan asked.
    “No, it’s a digital recorder. Ms. Baskerville, is it all right if I record our conversations?”
    “Of course, dear,” Charlotte said.
    Michael switched on the machine. “Do you have to shine a light on the tracks for them to glow?”
    Angus chuckled, but there was an edge to the sound. “Perhaps you think Petey carried his own flashlight.”
    “I’m sorry,” Charlotte said. “I don’t understand.”
    “What I mean is, do they work like commercial glow-in-the-dark paint or chalk, which needs to be charged with light?” Michael asked.
    “Oh, I see.” Charlotte smiled. “I don’t think so. They were glowing when I came out here, and it was night.”
    Michael nodded. “Sure, but if someone charged the paint somewhere else—say, the workshop—it would glow for a while. I see your dogs run around in the yard.”
    “Yes.”
    “So the glowing tracks could be their tracks that were simply rubbed with—”
    Angus cleared his throat loudly. “None of that explains a spectral dog that can float onto a ten-foot roof, of course.”
    Michael looked at the workshop. “Its only six feet at the edge.”
    Ivan chortled. “Americans—always looking for the complicated explanation. Is simple. Is ghost. We had two ghosts follow us through the countryside in Siberia, till we laid a trail of dried peas.” He frowned. “Peas might not stop ghost dog. Trail of raw liver, maybe.”
    Suki looked up from her camera. “That would certainly stop me.”
    “What’s on the other side of the workshop?” Michael asked. He headed that way, and the others followed.
    The fence at the back of the yard was older and shorter than the privacy fence that surrounded the rest of the backyard. In the middle, a decrepit gate sagged on its hinges.
    Michael jotted a note. “Did you look in the workshop after you saw the ghost?”
    “We didn’t.” Charlotte looked from Ivan to Ellen. “There didn’t seem to be a reason.”
    “Can we go in there now?” Michael asked.
    “I really don’t think—,” Angus began.
    “No, it’s fine,” Charlotte said. “Ellen, do you have your key with you? Mine is in the house.”
    “Um, let me think. Oh, it’s all right, I have it.” She patted her pants pockets, then pulled out a key.
    They followed her to the other side, where a modern door looked incongruous in the rough stone wall.
    “Why doesn’t the workshop face the back of the house?” Michael asked.
    Charlotte answered. “The workshop is the original house, dating from 1867. They built it to face the other street of this corner lot. You don’t make structural changes lightly when it comes to stone.”
    Ellen opened the door. The rest of them followed her inside, except for Ivan. He waved a box of cigarettes and said, “I will stay here,” before closing the door.
    The workshop’s long interior was surprisingly modern, with white walls and track lighting. Tables and shelves lined the walls, and long bolts of fabric hung from a rack in a corner.
    “This is a nice space,” Suki said, raising her camera.
    “No pictures.” Ellen spoke sharply, then looked apologetic. “It’s just that we have to protect the designs.”
    “Of