Read Online Chihuahua of the Baskervilles by Esri Allbritten - Free Book Online

be heard. “I didn’t see anything, did you?”
    “No.”
    “I had my recorder going,” Michael said, in a more normal voice. “But it’s not designed for distance. I don’t know if it picked up anything.”
    “My camera has a microphone that’s for more general stuff,” Suki added. “It might have gotten something.”
    “I’m coming down,” Angus called. He disappeared from the window.
    “I’m going to check the workshop,” Michael said. Followed by Suki, he walked over to the stone building and knocked on the door.
    After a moment, Ellen opened it. “Yes?” Classical music played in the background, the romantic swell of violins overlying the whir of an electric heater that stood in one corner of the room.
    “Did you hear the howling outside?” Michael asked her.
    “When?”
    “Just now.”
    She looked from one to the other of them. “I didn’t hear a thing. These stone walls block most sound, plus, we had storm windows put on.” She opened the door wider. “Do you want to come in?”
    Angus joined them. “What’s going on?”
    “Can I try a brief experiment in here?” Michael asked Ellen.
    “Go ahead.”
    Inside, the workshop tables were bare except for papers. Several file drawers stood open.
    Michael walked over to a small boom box and turned the music up to about three times the volume. “Sorry, but this will just take a second.” He gestured to Suki and Angus. “Could you two go outside and listen?”
    The other two went outside, and Michael closed the door behind them. Then he opened it. “Is the music about the same volume as the dog noise?”
    “Crank it up maybe twenty-five percent,” Suki said.
    Angus hunched deeper into his jacket and blew out a breath. “This is a waste of time.”
    Michael went inside again. The music played, and they stood in the chill air. Then the sound dropped and disappeared, and Michael opened the door.
    Ellen appeared beside him, looking angry. “I wasn’t playing dog sounds from in here.”
    “Of course not,” Angus soothed.
    Michael stepped outside and folded his arms. “Recorded violins heard through a stone building might conceivably sound like a dog howling.”
    Suki shook her head doubtfully. “This is Bach, not Stravinsky.”
    “If you’ll excuse me,” Ellen said, “I’m going back to work.” She closed the door.
    “Where’s Charlotte?” Suki asked.
    “Lying down,” Angus said. “She feels a bit rattled, as you might expect after hearing a ghost. Not to mention her husband suggesting she’s crazy.”
    “Speaking of Mr. Charm,” Michael said, “where is Thomas Baskerville?”
    “I suppose we ought to make sure he’s not playing tricks,” Angus said.
    They went back inside and trooped through the house to the downstairs parlor, where Angus rapped on the door to Thomas’s room. No one answered.
    “Anyone notice what kind of car he drives?” Angus asked.
    “I saw a silver Corolla parked outside,” Suki said. “That might be his.”
    They went outside and looked up and down the street. There was no Corolla, and the closest car was two houses away. “Hmm…,” Angus said. “I don’t like the idea of Charlotte being at home alone if he comes back.”
    “Ellen’s here,” Michael pointed out.
    “In that stone hut where she can’t hear a damn thing.”
    At that moment, a battered Ford Explorer pulled up, bass speakers thumping through the closed windows. The engine and music shut off, and Cheri opened the passenger door. Her fur-trimmed suede jacket hung open, showing a silvery, low-necked top. “Hey,” she said to them. “Did you go to the Happy Mountaineer?”
    “We went to Rhumbalicious,” Angus said.
    A young man appeared around the other side of the car. His jet black hair was shiny and short, and led into long sideburns. He wore black jeans and a long fitted coat, and held his arms away from his body as he walked toward them.
    “Hey,” he said, his glance taking them all in before coming to rest on