We checked the house for a possible means of egress. And that’s when I saw it—or, rather, him. A man was sitting in a car, parked nearby, with one of those very large cameras obscuring a large part of his face, shooting pictures of the house. I could hear the shutter going clickety-click as he did.
“Who’s that, Max?” asked Dooley.
“That’s a paparazzo, Dooley.”
“What’s a paparazzo?”
“It’s a kind of parasite. It breeds on other humans, sucking their lifeblood.”
“Nasty things.
“Very nasty,” I agreed.
“Is he taking our picture, you think?”
I darted a quick look at the house, and realized he wasn’t. Through the window, Tessa’s profile was outlined. She was holding Silvy, consoling her.
“Bad paparazzo,” said Dooley, who’d noticed the same thing.
“Very bad indeed,” I said. Taking snapshots of a private scene for the sole purpose of exploiting it for monetary gain.
And Prince Dante must have had the exact same thought, for at that moment he returned from his walk with Fluffy and spotted the man sitting in front of his cottage.
“Hey!” he bellowed. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
The man, caught, instantly started up his engine. In response, Fluffy started yapping like a mad dog, and then, before Dante could stop her, launched herself through the open window of the car and onto the paparazzo, who was making frantic efforts of putting his car in gear and driving away.
The man yelped in dismay as the thirty-pound English bulldog landed in his lap, and the next moment the car lurched forward, the dog still inside, with Dante running after it, yelling and screaming all the while for the car to stop.
It was pandemonium out there, and just as I wondered what had happened to all the security people who were supposedly guarding the royal couple, a burly man came running out of the house, still clutching a sandwich, took one look at the Prince, racing after the car, and went in pursuit, sticking a finger of his free hand into his ear for some reason and yelling to himself.
Instantly, three more men came running out of the house, and now the gag was complete: the paparazzo was obviously in the lead, with Dante right on his heels, and four security people chasing after him. It would have been funny if it hadn’t been so serious, and I really felt for Fluffy, being abducted like this without a moment’s notice.
I would have run after the group, if I had the kind of body made for exertion. As it is, I’m more of an intellectual than an action hero. Dooley obviously felt the same way, for he stayed put right next to me.
The door flew open once more, and disgorged even more people: Tessa, cradling the baby, Odelia, Chase, Angela, and some of the household staff, who apparently worked long hours. All of them started running in the same direction the others had gone, except for Tessa, who had the baby to contend with. Harriet and Brutus were the next ones to emerge from the house, and joined us in staring after the strange nocturnal fitness activity.
“What’s going on?” asked Brutus.
“A paparazzo was taking pictures of Tessa, and when Dante saw it, he decided to put a stop to it. Oh, and Fluffy jumped into the car and the paparazzi drove off with her, so there’s that to take into consideration.”
“Terrible business,” said Brutus. “Do you think the paparazzo is the one who tried to kill Tessa?”
“I doubt it. You can’t kill a person by taking their picture.”
“There are some people who believe that you can,” said Harriet. “They believe that by taking your picture, they control you. That’s why some people never want their picture taken, so no one can do them any harm.”
Dooley shivered.“Creepy,” he said. “Imagine someone takes your picture and decides to do all sorts of bad things with it. I don’t think I’d like that.”
“I don’t understand how he was allowed to get this close to the house,” said Brutus. “Aren’t they supposed to have a security perimeter?”
“I guess royal security isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” I said.
“Or maybe the English are more loosey-goosey when it comes to security.”
From the house, Gran now emerged.“What’s going on?” she asked.
I repeated my brief summary of recent events, and she tsk-tsked freely.
“Bad business,” she said. “If those damn paps can get this close to the house, anyone can.” She pushed at her white curls, which were a little lopsided. She’d obviously been sleeping when the ruckus erupted.
“Do you think that a person can gain control over you by taking your picture, Gran?” asked Dooley. He seemed worried now, after learning about this new and hitherto unknown-to-him potential threat.
“No, I don’t,” said Gran. “If that were the case, all the politicians, celebrities, and people in the public eye would be under the control of the millions of people who look at their pictures. Heck, I had a picture of Rock Hudson on my wall for ages, hoping one day he’d happen to be in town and swing by. Do you think he ever did? Nah, don’t you believe that crap.”
“It’s like voodoo,” Harriet insisted. “Where they put a pin in a little doll?”
“Rubbish,” said Gran decidedly.
She seemed to know what she was talking about, almost as if she’d had her likeness turned into a doll and had strange people put pins in them all her life.
Just then, the paparazzo’s car came driving back up the road, only this time with Prince Dante behind the wheel. A long procession followed, including but not limited to Chase, Odelia, four security people, and… the pap, hands tied in front of him with plastic handcuffs. Waddling behind them was Fluffy, who looked particularly pleased with herself. She had a piece of cloth clasped between her teeth, which was an exact match for the hole in the pap’s pants.
It was a great night for a good dog.
Chapter 14
“I have every right to be here,” said the man, looking particularly cross that Fluffy had bitten him in the ass. “And you have no right to detain me—or to confiscate my camera and destroy the images I shot!”
The security people had parked the man’s car, and were now taking a crack at the paparazzo. The police had been called, and they’d be there soon.
“Who is he?” asked Odelia as she found herself standing next to Tessa and her mother.
“Otis Robins. He’s a famous reporter,” said Tessa. “He has his own show on television and everything, and he writes for one of the big tabloids.”
“So what was he doing out here, taking pictures of you?”
“He says his regular photographer bailed on him so he decided to take his place. He’s doing a series of articles on me and this appears to be part of it.”
“Major-league jerk, if you ask me,” said Angela, who glowered at the man.
“Yeah, he’s leading the charge against me,” said Tessa. “Must hate me something pretty bad.”
“So what did you ever do to him that makes him hate you so much?” asked Odelia.
“Beats me. I never met the man before in my life.”
“You married a prince,” said Angela. “These islanders always react viciously when an outsider moves in and sweeps up one of their own.”
“Or maybe his daughter had a crush on Dante and really wanted to marry him,” Odelia suggested.
“From the way he’s acting, you could very well be right,” said Tessa.
The reporter and Dante stood toe to toe, with the Duke shouting that the man was out of line and would pay dearly for this breach of privacy.
“Who cares a sod about your privacy?!” Otis Robbins yelled, his face red and the veins at his temples throbbing furiously. “You’re a public person—you have no privacy!”
“See?” said Tessa. “This is what I have to deal with. And all because I happened to fall in love with a sweet and gentle guy.”
“Tough,” said Odelia as she watched the reporter closely. “So could he be the one trying to kill you?”