A Dog-Gone Christmas by Leslie O'Kane Page B

declined the request to relocate to a “more comfortable setting.”
    Meanwhile, Not-Bella was trembling as I picked her up. “It’s okay, sweetums. Nobody is going to hurt you.” I cradled the poor little dog in my arms.
    “Give me the dog, Miss,” an officer said to me gruffly, as his two colleagues were talking to the body guard and Delia’s female assistant.
    “I can’t allow that, officer.” Delia walked on her knees in order to get between the officer and me. “With all due respect, this dog is scared and is not going to be treated like crime evidence. Allida is an expert. I want
her
to handle the dog.”
    Some people in the crowd were calling Delia’s name. “I’ll help you,” a young woman called. “Whatever you need.”
    “Don’t you people have planes to catch?” my mother said giving a group of gawkers who were trying to get closer the evil eye.
    “I’m going to take the dog’s Christmas shawl off,” I said, undoing its snaps, then handing the tiny garment to Delia. “Is this Bella’s?” I asked.
    “No.” She tapped at the gem in the front. “This isn’t an emerald. It’s just green plastic.”
    Delia’s apparent boyfriend, Tom, was returning. He kept saying, “Pardon me,” as he squeezed through the onlookers to reach Delia. She and I gasped happily when we spotted the original dog carrier in his hand.
    “Oh, Tom! My hero!” Delia leapt to her feet. I rose carefully, not wanting to jostle Not-Bella, but feeling a little self-conscious about my short stature, compared to Delia. I felt like a Corgi standing next to a greyhound.
    “Sorry, darlin’. It’s empty, I’m afraid,” Tom said.
    “Empty!?”
    “It was inside a black duffle bag,” he continued, “at the end of the X-ray conveyor belt. Those TSAs…the terminal safety agent…they say some new guy was on shift that nobody recognized.”
    “Transportation Safety Administration,” I corrected.
    “Whatever,” Tom said. “The guy changed lanes to work in ours. And there was that disturbance right as they were about to run Bella’s carrier through the X-rays. Remember? Someone started shouting that the pocket knife that the TSA folks discovered in his carry-on wasn’t his.”
    “I remember that,” Delia said, sniffling and teary eyed. “Right when I was carrying Bella through the scanner. The passenger claimed someone planted it in his bag.”
    “He’s probably telling the truth,” I said. “It was probably the fake TSA agent who planted it, so no one would be watching when he swapped out carriers.”
    Another pair of officers arrived, which the first-arriving officers directed back to the security. “We’ll find the TSA agent, Miss Gantry,” the gruff-voiced policeman assured her. “This is probably the work of a professional thief, who took your dog as a diversion. He was probably only after the emerald.”
    “No way,” she scoffed. “A
professional
would know Bella’s worth a fortune to me! Far more than a silly green rock!” She balled her hands into fists. “Shut the airport! This minute! We’re in lockdown until my precious Bella is found!”
    “Miss,” a second younger officer said, a tremor in his voice, “we can’t do that for a dog.”
    She gasped. “Do you know who I am?!”
    “Yes, and I’m a big fan. Ever since I first saw you on that show on TV with those judges. But this is not a matter of passenger safety. Nobody’s in any danger.”
    “My baby girl is in danger!”
    “She’ll be fine,” my mother told her. “I have a sixth-sense about these things. That was the first I’d heard about Mom’s sixth-sense, but I wasn’t about to argue with her. She headed toward Tom, who was currently being questioned by an officer. My guess was she wanted to eavesdrop.
    While the grumpy officer was busy telling the younger, nicer officer to finish talking to the body guard, I patted Delia’s shoulder and instructed myself silently not to obsess about how high I had to reach in the