The Case of the Sapphire Collar Chapter 7
For Chapters 1 – 6 feel free to visit https://twolittlecavaliers.com/category/dogs/the-case-of-the-sapphire-collar in order to get caught up.
Finding Cashy Nova’s house was not difficult.
Nor was it difficult to talk my way past the security Doberman (who by the way was named “Sabre”, see what I mean about these Dobermen parents?) After all, strictly speaking, I had just come from the Weimeramer Brothers’ lot, where I had been speaking to Olivia about the possibility of her co-starring with Mr Nova in an upcoming movie.
What was difficult was pushing my way through the crowd of teenage girls to even get to the gate to speak to Sabre. I had never seen so much tail all in one place! Unfortunately I wasn’t as far below their shoulders as I was below their notice, and it was only by an effort of sheer professionalism that I managed to force my way through that press of lithe young bodies.
Honest.
Anyhow, with dozens of young eyes burning holes of envy in my back, the security guard showed me up to the door, before returning to defend the homestead against the hormone maddened horde.
I knocked at the door, and a few moments later it was opened by a miniature poodle that I suspected had the highest tooth-to-braincell ratios that I have ever encountered.
“Good morning ma’am, my name’s Barkalot and I’m a detective. I’m investigating…”
“Hold on,” she turned and called back through the door, “Cashy, honey, there’s a policeman at the door.” I decided not to correct her.
Seconds later the world’s best known film star appeared in the company of a chihouha that made me revise my opinion of the poodle. Cashy addressed the pair of them:
“Why don’t you girls go and wash your ears? I’ll be up in a minute to check them for you.”
The girls departed giggling, and he turned to me, smiling:
“Won’t you come through, Detective…?”
“Barkalot, Benjamin Barkalot.”
“Barkalot. Mind if I call you Ben? No? Good. Call me Cashy. Come on through to the drawing room.” He led me easily along the hall, like I was an old friend, instead of some tatty gumshoe that had just turned up on his doorstep. When we got to the drawing room he offered me a seat, but shrugged cheerfully when I preferred to stand.
The walls were proudly papered in promotional posters of particularly popular past productions of his. Damn alliteration was getting everywhere.
“Drink, Detective?” he asked indicating a decanter of milk.
“Just a small one, if you please.”
“Care for a splash of cream in that?”
“Thank you, but no; it’s a little bit early in the day for me.”
“Suit yourself.” Nova smiled, drizzling a dollop into his drink from a delicately decorative decanter. He stepped over and passed me my drink, indicating the posters with a gesture.
“Do you like the movies, Ben?”
I shrugged:
“Some. I’m a big fan of Akita Kurosawa.”
“Ah ‘Stray Human’, ‘Seven Saluki’…” he smiled, “A remarkable director, almost unique in his blend of Eastern and Western influences.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, “I like big shouty guys beating hell out of each other, myself.”
Cashy Nova looked at me intently for a moment, before giving me a huge warm smile that would have reduced the crowd outside his gate to a puddle of simpering fur.
“Excuse my vanity,” – that would be one heck of an excuse, judging by all the posters he had on his walls; way beyond ‘My human ate my homework’ – “but have you ever seen any of my movies?”
I indicated the poster I’d been looking at:
“I’ve seen a few. I enjoyed ‘Sons of the Desert’. Although …No, forget about that.”
“No please, go on.”
“Well there’s a couple of things: The Sons of the Desert, ride their camels single file ‘to confuse the trail for the infidel’, which makes me wonder why they chose to ride along the top of the escarpment, where their silhouettes would be visible for miles, rather than riding along the bottom.” Cashy Nova grinned at that one, “Secondly, why does the slave girl plan put the sleeping draught in the wine jars at the palace, when we have already established that the Persian Cat Prince is a devout follower of the Wise Old Siamese, and would therefore be forbidden alcohol, or indeed anything else that would interfere with his ability to dream?”
Nova’s eyes glazed over slightly at that, and there was a moment’s silence.
“So Detective, I’m sure you didn’t come here to discuss movies. How can I be of assistance?”
I took a sip of my milk. It was the good stuff; full cream, possibly Jersey.
“Well Mr Nova. I’m investigating events following the party at Queen Bumble’s house at the weekend.”
“Q.B.? How is she?” Cashy seemed genuinely surprised and concerned, “Is she hurt?”
“Miss Bumble was not hurt,” He relaxed at that. “however she has suffered some losses. I was wondering if you might have noticed anything suspicious at the party?”
“Not really, it was very much the same old people, talking about the same old things.”
“You’ve been to these parties before then?”, he nodded, “Why’s that, may I ask?”
“A couple of reasons. For a start Q.B. and I go back a long way,” he noticed my expression, “no, Detective, not like that…more’s the pity.” He smiled wistfully.
“Secondly, I like humans. Have done since the ‘Trevor’ films.”
“ ‘Trevor the WonderHuman’?”
Cashy smiled slightly sheepishly, in fact more than sheepishly: Cashy smiled like a sheep smiles when it is self-conscious. I guess those films were hardly pride of place on his CV nowadays.
“I know those films were naff, but I was genuinely fond of Trevor, all of them.”
“All of them?”
“There were actually three Trevors,” he smiled with the joy of sharing a small secret, “Actually two of them were female: They’re that bit smarter than the males, and if you dress them up right, no-one will ever notice the difference.”
“Smart humans!” I grinned at the idea.
“You’d be surprised Ben. OK, I’m not saying they were up to dragging pups out of burning buildings, but I swear at least two of them actually could count.”
We both took another sip of our drinks before I continued:
“Did you notice anything unusual about Miss Bumble’s maid on the night, Mr Nova?”
“Was she the one with the mismatched eyes?”
“I’m not sure: Tall, blonde…”
“Oh yes!” Another of those smiles that had the women squirming on their seats at the cinema, “Yeah I noticed her all right.” He wiggled his hips suggestively. “Why has she said anything about me?”
“I don’t know, Mr Nova, no-one has seen her since the party.”
Cashy’s face dropped
“Really? I bet Q.B. is going mental.”
“She certainly is, because her Faberge collar disappeared at the same time.” This time his expression was one of incredulity.
“So the maid did a runner with the collar?”
“No, Mr Nova, I don’t believe she did.”
“So where is she?”
“I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”
Cashy’s face was determined, any females that had held out ‘til now would have fainted at that look: “If there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.”
“I will do, Mr Nova. Thank you.”
I had learnt all I needed to from Cashy Nova.
Except how to do THAT to the ladies.
This story The Case of the Sapphire Collar belongs to the original author we are sharing it with our readers with the express permission of the author. Please do not copy it in any form. The manuscript is going to be used to raise money for animal rescue as soon as drawings are completed of each of the characters. If you see this story appear anywhere other then Two Little Cavaliers please contact us so we can remedy the situation.
