by Judi McCoy
“Mr. Chesney planned to take Bitsy to every performance. Do you know what happened to her?”
Ellie realized all this chitchat was making her late and headed toward the elevator. “Bitsy spent the night at our place. Rob asked me to keep her and I couldn’t say no.” She pressed the call button. “If he doesn’t get out on bail, I’ll stop in his apartment this afternoon and gather her things. Someone has to look after her. She’s too tiny to go to a shelter.” She waggled her fingers when the elevator door opened. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
On the ride up, she gazed at Rudy. “You’re too quiet. What are you thinking?”
“I got a lot on my brain. Who killed that Carmella person? Why was Bobbi-Rob holdin’ the weapon? What will happen to Bitsy if he gets convicted?” He sneezed. “We have to help them.”
“My thoughts exactly,” she said as they stepped onto Buckley’s floor.
“But you shouldn’t get involved in the actual find-the-murderer scenario. This one sounds like a bigger mess than any of the others.”
She knocked, then used her key to get Buckley, a small black maltipoo with a cranky disposition. “Hey, Buck. How are things?” she asked when he trotted to the door from somewhere in the rear of the apartment.
“Hazel’s on a tear about my health again, just because I been chewin’ my paws.”
Ellie stooped to hook his leash to his collar. “So why are you chewing?”
“Itchy is all. No big deal. But she took me to that dopey pet psychic for another reading.”
The trio aimed for the elevator. Ellie had four more dogs to retrieve. “What was her name again?”
“Madam Orzo. According to Hazel, the woman’s a wonder, but she has yet to get me right.”
No surprise there, thought Ellie. Buckley had a bad opinion of everyone and a complaint about everything. “Hmm, I can’t imagine why,” she said jokingly. “I haven’t seen your mistress in a while. Still off the cigarettes?”
“She’s been good, but I bet that once the nice weather’s here she’ll start again. She always sits on the patio and takes a hit. Bet she thinks I’m too stupid to figure it out.”
“She knows you’re a smart little guy,” Ellie said. They arrived on Sweetie Pie’s floor, walked down the corridor, and opened the Westie’s door. “Hey, Sweetie. You ready for us?”
The adorable West Highland White Terrier greeted Rudy and Buckley in typical doggie fashion, prompting her yorkiepoo to say, “You smell like you’ve been through the wash cycle. Mom using a new shampoo?”
“Not Babs, but the groomer thought it was a nice change of pace. Personally, I hate it.”
The details on the Westie’s shampoo sent the dogs off on a tear about groomers that continued until the pack was outside and crossing Fifth Avenue. When they got nitpicky about telling one scent from another, Ellie’s mind went into overdrive. Was it possible Bitsy had smelled something during the murder that would identify the killer?
She’d never find out until she got the poohuahua to talk, and that might take time. Meanwhile, she still needed to know if Rob had been released. Until then, there wasn’t a thing she could do to help him or his dog.
Chapter 3
Sam read the caller ID on his cell phone and leaned back in his chair. Paying attention to Ellie now would go a long way toward keeping the peace and deflecting invasive questions later. He had, in fact, expected her to call him before this, but then he remembered that she’d taken home a suspected killer’s dog, which might have caused a problem.
“Ryder,” he said, though Ellie had to know he’d be the only one on the other end of the line.
“Do you have time for a few questions?”
He smiled at the greeting, happy to know they’d grown so close over the past couple of months that Ellie didn’t feel it necessary to announce herself. Positive he knew the topic she wanted to discuss, he heaved a sigh. There was no use trying to pretend he didn’t have the answers, and after only four hours’ sleep last night, he didn’t have the energy to play the avoidance game or give her a lecture, something that never worked with his “bad penny” anyway.
“Can you keep it to five minutes? Because that’s about all the time I have right now.”
“I’m outside the station. Can I come in?”
Sam ran a hand through his hair. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but no. Just ask what you have to and I’ll do my best to tell you”—get off my case—“what you need to know.”
“It’s about Rob Chesney.”
Well, duh. No surprise there. “I figured. Go ahead.”
“Where is he right now?”
“Probably in a holding cell.”
“Has he had a bail hearing?”
“And you need to know that because . . .”
Ellie blew out a breath. “Because I have his dog. I want to know if I should keep her with me or drop her at his apartment.”
“I believe Mr. Chesney’s attorney is in the process of amassing the funds needed to set him free.”
“How much did the DA ask for?”
He drummed his fingers on the desk. “I fail to see what the amount of Mr. Chesney’s bail has to do with his dog.”
“Come on, Sam. Bend a little. Rob’s a friend and I want to help him if I can.”
“Why? Did he ask you for the money?” He’d heard Chesney was a trust fund baby and didn’t need a cent from anyone.
She waited a beat before saying, “You’re being difficult.”
He shrugged. “Unless you’re an attorney or an eyewitness to the murder, you don’t need to know anything about his finances or the state of his stay here.” Of course, he knew darn well that wouldn’t stop her from prying. After a long silence, he said, “Bail was set at half a million. I believe he’s made arrangements with a bondsman, but there’s paperwork to finish. With luck, he could be home by the end of the afternoon.”
“Okay, fine.” She exhaled another breath. “Would it be possible for me to see him?”
Sam gazed at the ceiling. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I would never kid about such a serious matter. I’d like to see him, and I know you can get me in.”
Okay, he could, but that would be a bad move for a couple of reasons. First off, just about everyone in the station knew he and Ellie were dating, and they’d consider it extending special privileges if he did what she asked. Second, they also knew she continually horned in on police business, which didn’t endear her to the cops. Third, she wasn’t a relative of the perp and therefore had no credible reason for a visit, which would steer them back to reason two. Fourth—well, hell—the list went on and on.
“Can’t it wait until he’s home?”
“I guess.” Another pause, then, “The papers are calling it a crime of passion. Any idea where they’d get that idea?”
That was his girl. If one direction took her nowhere, she’d head off in another. “Not from here. Must have been someone in the DA’s office.”
“And those scissors were the murder weapon?”
“We’re waiting for confirmation from forensics and the ME, but I’m guessing so.”
“Is there any other evidence?”
“Not much. The crowd that tromped in and out of the room obliterated any footprints, but forensics might come up with something.”
“What about—”
“Sorry, Nancy Drew, but that’s all I can say for now.”
Ellie’s tsk shot across the phone line. “But you have an opinion. I know you do.”
“All I have right now are the facts. Until the entire story comes to light, and that’s up to the evidence Vince and I gather, I don’t know anything for sure.”
“Okay. Be that way.”
The huge sigh she dropped onto the end of the sentence made him want to bang his head against a wall. “Are you really going to make me recite the list of reasons why I can’t discuss this with you?”
“You could discuss it if he was innocent.”
“You know better than to say that, and as far as I’m concerned, he isn’t.” Neither he nor Vince had bought Chesney’s story of walking into the dressing room, seeing the victim, and falling to his knees to offer assistance. Only an idiot would pull a weapon out of a body. “I have to go.”
“Can you stop by my place tonight? I want to talk to you about Bitsy.”
Sam closed his eyes. He recalled the fuss about the dog, but what the heck did it have to do with him? “Did something happen to the little mutt that I need to know about?”
“I think Dr. Dave has to make a house call.”
When the word “mutt” didn’t get a rise out of her, he said, “Why? Is it sick?”
“Not in the physical sense.”
Was she saying the dog had a mental problem? Did he really want to know? “And you need me there . . . Why?”
“Just to talk over a few things. Come on, I promise I won’t go overboard with the questions.”
Impossible. “I’ll drop by if I can, but I’m not making any promises. What time?”
“Anytime. In fact, if you’re free around seven you can stop by Viv’s place. She’s ordering dinner for me and Dr. Dave, and there’s always more food than we can eat.”
“It all depends on how the investigation goes. Vince and I are still questioning people who were allowed backstage last night, even if they were performing at the time of the murder. Vince is lead on this one, so he’s calling the shots.”
“Why Vince? You were the first officer on the scene.”
The answer to her question was the same as the list of reasons he had for not allowing her to visit Chesney in jail. They were personally involved; she’d been with him at the site; she knew the supposed killer. But if he told Ellie she was the reason he had to play second fiddle, she’d have a full-blown fit.
“It was Vince’s turn,” he stated simply. “He had no problem taking whatever I told him as fact and assuming command.”
“Is that the truth?” she asked, her tone rife with suspicion.
He crossed mental fingers. “Yes. Now hang up. I’ll call you later and let you know about dinner.”
The connection dropped and he tossed his phone on the blotter. He’d been waiting for Ellie’s call, knew what she would ask, was even prepared for her bossy attitude. So why did their dialogue bother him so much?
Get real, Ryder, a voice in his brain growled. You care about the woman. You don’t want to create hostility, especially since things have gone so well for the past four months.
Ellie had let him back into her bed. They enjoyed being together, verbal sparring included. She always knew what to say to ease his anger and make him laugh. She was a good person, a saint really, when compared to most of the people he had to deal with, including those in his own family.
More important, she knew the rules. She usually backed away when he asked her to, and made him smile when she did it. She was the bright spot in his day, the reason he now saw the good in people he used to write off as crackpots or fools. She complemented his contrary and disbelieving nature, made sense of the things he sometimes found it impossible to understand. To put it plainly, Ellie was the very best of his better half.
Except when a friend or a client was in trouble. Then all bets were off, and she fought as dirty as any street fighter.
And Chesney was both.
Leaning back in his chair, Sam heaved another sigh. He could give orders, make demands, and set as many boundaries as he wanted, but it wouldn’t do him a damn bit of good. Vince had already told him he was a goner when it came to Ellie Engleman and he didn’t doubt it for a second.
Instead of saying good-bye to Sam, Ellie simply ended the call and headed for home. The man was so frustrating she wanted to scream. Then she remembered the hellacious wail that had erupted from backstage at Guess Who and thought better of it. She’d only hurt her voice if she raised it that many decibels, and the last thing she needed was laryngitis—not a good thing in her line of work.
“Didn’t sound like the deceptive dick was any help,” Rudy offered, trotting beside her.
“He told me as much as he could, I guess. I’ll just have to get the rest of the details from Rob.”
They made it home in twenty minutes. After Ellie gave Bitsy a cuddle and a walk, they came back inside, and she was now studying Bitsy in silence. She planned to eat lunch and leave Rudy here babysitting while she completed her afternoon rounds. Right now, the poohuahua was huddled on a floor mat and trembling, exactly where she’d been when Ellie first came in the door. Best she could tell, the pup was still traumatized from the events of last night, but without verbal contact, she had no clue as to why.
“You gonna give me orders or what?”
She cocked an elbow and rested her cheek in her palm, still gazing at her houseguest. “Just take care of her. Stay close and give her a shoulder to cry on if she needs it. If she starts to talk, try to remember what she says so you can repeat it when I get home. Think you can follow instructions?”
“That’s as easy as polishing off a Dingo bone, Triple E. I can handle it.”
“Then I’m out of here. I probably won’t be back until it’s time to go to Viv’s for dinner. I guess I’d better call Dr. Dave and ask him to meet us there so he can give Bitsy a once-over.”
Rudy settled on the mat, curling his body around the tiny pooch. “Got it. And don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine. Won’t we, Bits?”
Bitsy snuggled closer to him and closed her eyes, which again tore at Ellie’s heart. As soon as she finished the afternoon runs, she’d visit Rob, get his version of what had happened in his dressing room, and see if there was anything she could do to help. She hated lying, but she had to tell Rob his dog needed a checkup, which meant she had to come up with a story that would convince him to leave Bitsy in her care for another night.
She left her apartment with Bitsy’s predicament in the forefront of her mind. The idea of the tiny dog so in tune with her owner that she could do nothing but shake and whimper at his misfortune brought tears to Ellie’s eyes. Anyone who believed that canines didn’t experience emotion was an idiot. The dogs she walked felt sorrow, joy, pity, love, and every emotion in between, and they were proud of it.
Heading west on Sixty-eighth, she crossed Lexington and passed Hunter College. Great. She’d been so enmeshed in Rob’s dilemma she’d forgotten all about dropping off Help Wanted flyers at the local colleges. I’ll do it first thing tomorrow, she told herself, striding across Park Avenue. She figured she might as well talk as she walked, so she pulled out her cell and rang Dr. Dave.
“Hi, David. It’s Ellie,” she said when he answered.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“This is a twofold call. First, you’re invited to join me for dinner at Viv’s place around seven tonight. Think you can make it?”
“Barring a four-legged emergency, sure. What else?”
“Bitsy needs a checkup.”
“Bitsy? What’s wrong with the little girl?”
“I assume Viv told you I brought her home with me last night.”
“She did. But what happened that made you think she needs an exam?”
“The poor thing hasn’t stopped trembling since they pulled her carrier out from underneath Rob’s dressing table. And she hasn’t so much as touched a single bite of kibble either. She’s all of four pounds, and I’m pretty sure a dog that small can’t go too long without eating, right?”
“You’re absolutely correct. So, you’ll bring her to Vivian’s and I’ll look at her there?”
“Yep, and thanks. I appreciate it.”
Crossing Fifth, she dialed Viv’s office line and left a message about dinner. Then she dropped the phone in her bag and aimed for the Beaumont, after which she planned to skip the Davenport, take care of her two northernmost buildings, and swing back around. Keeping things tight, she took care of her charges and was at the Davenport in under two hours. Now that she was here, she would walk the dogs, bring t
hem home, then go to Rob’s for a quick talk.
She entered the building to the sound of angry chatter and the booming voice of the evening doorman, Boris Kronkovitz.
“You must wait,” he told the crowd gathered around the front desk. “I need identification before you go up.”
Huh? Ellie glanced at her watch as she skulked past the unruly tenants, praying she wouldn’t get caught. She didn’t have time to wait for the people who were complaining to get through.
She’d made it to the elevator and pushed the call button when Kronk’s voice, sounding much too close, chimed, “Ell-ee, my dar-link girl. Where are you go-ink?”
She turned to give the doorman a wave and bumped smack into him. Rubbing her nose, she took a step of retreat. “Stop sneaking up on me, Kronk. I have dogs to walk.”
He shook his leonine head. “Sorry, but no. Ees impossible.”
“What do you mean ‘ees impossible’? I have keys and you’re holding permission slips from each of my clients.” She peeked around the doorman’s beefy chest and found a dozen people glowering at her. “Uh, hi. I don’t suppose any of you need a dog walker?”
“If she’s allowed up, we’re all allowed up, Mr. Kronkovitz,” said a woman wearing Prada and pearls. “This business of having to be cleared before we go to our apartments is ridiculous. The police can’t keep us from our homes.”
Shouts of “Yeah,” “She’s right,” and “You tell him, Sharon,” rang out when she finished.
“What the heck is going on, Kronk?” Ellie asked, hoping the tenants would view her as a friend if she was able to get the crazy Russian to change his tune.
The doorman stretched his six-foot-four frame to an even more imposing height and scanned the crowd. “Ees not my idea.” Stepping into the elevator, he removed an enormous key ring from his pocket, chose a key, and fiddled with the control panel. Then he marched back to the desk, calling over his shoulder, “Ell-ee-vay-tor not work until I check you in.”
The tenants continued to grumble. A gentleman rushed to the stairway entrance, grabbed the door handle leading to the steps, and gave a tug. When the door failed to open, he swung around. “How dare you disable the elevator and lock the door to the stairs. I’m reporting you for a fire code violation.”
