by Judi McCoy
Ellie jumped in place, but the cross-dresser standing with her had another idea. “Hey, wait a second, Mr. Manwith-a-Badge,” said the queen in black leather. “She hasn’t done anything wrong, so what’s your problem?”
“My problem is none of your concern.” He added a snarl to let the she-male know he meant business. “The lady is coming with me.”
“Sam—”
“It’s Detective Ryder, Ms. Engleman. Now come along peacefully or I’ll take you to HQ and arrest you for interfering with a police investigation.” He clutched her elbow and led her into the scene of the crime. After slamming the door, he swung her around to face him.
“You have ten seconds to explain what you’re doing here. And don’t try lying, because that never works with you.”
Ellie huffed out a breath and jerked her elbow from his grip. “Jeez, you don’t have to get so bossy.”
Sam slipped his badge back in his jacket pocket and folded his arms. “Unfortunately, I do.” Fighting to keep his voice calm, he said, “Now start talking.”
She ran her hand through her curls and heaved another sigh. “Okay, fine, but promise you won’t get mad.”
“I won’t get mad.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“I won’t get mad because I’m already beyond mad. I’m furious—wait, no. It’s more than that. I’m incensed, irate, crazed with anger. How does that sound?”
She raised a corner of her mouth. “Like you belong in an insane asylum, if you want the truth.”
He paced in front of her, using the time to regain his composure. When he looked up, Ellie said, “Is it okay if I sit for this interrogation?”
“Why not? You’d do it anyway, just to irritate me.”
“That’s not why I asked. This is supposed to be a crime scene, correct? Should I even be in this room?”
“You’re asking me about proper police protocol? While you keep pushing your way into my homicide investigations? You’re kidding, right?”
She fisted a hand on her hip and frowned. When he didn’t say anything, she pulled a chair out from under one of the tables and took a seat. “Okay, now what?”
“Now what?” He began to pace. “Let’s see, where should I begin?” Ellie opened her mouth to speak and he held up a hand. “This is my party, so we’ll play it my way, understand?”
She bit her lower lip and nodded.
“Why are you here talking to the performers about what happened the other night?”
“I’m here because I spoke to Rob, and he told me a couple of things that I thought needed looking into.”
“And you couldn’t have told me those things, so that I, in my official capacity as one of the officers in charge of the case, could see to it instead?”
She shrugged. “I thought if I got the answers myself, it might save you a step in your investigation.”
Sam shook his head. “Please. Let’s not go through this again. You have no right to be here in any capacity, and certainly not in the guise of helping me.”
“Then I’m here to help Rob.”
“Rob Chesney doesn’t need help. As far as I can tell, he has a competent attorney, and I hear his sister is coming to town to hold his hand.”
“But you believe he’s guilty, and he’s not.”
“I believe he’s guilty because the evidence points in that direction, which is why he was arrested, but the case is ongoing while we amass the data. Vince and I do the legwork, but it’s the DA who decides the charges and presses for a trial.”
She sat up straight in the chair. “So if I give you some new facts, you’d take them into consideration?”
“If it pertains to the investigation, yes.”
“How about this one? Carmella Sunday was blackmailing someone—someone big in New York.”
“And you know this because . . .”
“Because Sheleata told me so.”
“Sheleata? Since when are you on a first-name basis with these . . . people?”
“Since I told them I was a friend of Rob’s and he was innocent. I also found out there are a half dozen performers who are happy Carmella is dead. If that’s the case, any one of them might have committed the crime.”
“How about you give me their names, and I’ll look into it?”
She moved to the edge of her chair. “Really, you will?”
He pulled out his notebook, just to prove he would. “Sure. Now talk.”
“Lily and Pearl. I don’t know their real names, but they hated Carmella. I’m not sure why, though I could probably find out for you if you wanted.”
“Not necessary, because . . .” He flipped through the pages, and stopped when he found their names. “Both of them were onstage at the time of the killing. Next?”
“They were?”
“The director and two dozen witnesses say so, and I could probably corroborate that with a dozen more.”
“Oh.”
“Who else?”
“Nita Zip, but I don’t know her real name.”
Sam nodded. Ms. Zip was on his list. In fact, he’d planned on finding her until Ellie’s voice had knocked him senseless a few minutes ago. “I have her down. In fact, I’d be talking to her right now if I hadn’t found you snooping in the hall.”
She huffed out a breath. “You make it sound as if I’m a pain in the ass who has nothing better to do with her time than step on your toes.”
“And . . .”
“And I’m not. I’m the friend of a person I’m positive is innocent, and I want to make sure the police know it.”
“Then I guess this all boils down to trust.” Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d known this day would come. “That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t trust me to do my job. You think I’m incompetent.”
“What? No!” Her shoulders drooped. “I know you’re a good cop. It’s just that—”
Sam raised both hands. If Ellie didn’t trust him as a cop, she couldn’t trust him as a man. And without trust, a relationship was nothing.
He stepped to the door and pushed it open. “This interview is over. Please leave the building. I have work to do.”
Her eyes welled with tears, but he didn’t let that stop him. “Now, Ms. Engleman.”
She made a move in his direction, but he stood firm. “I said now.”
Ellie swiped at the single tear trickling down her cheek. Hoisting her tote bag on her shoulder, she left the room.
Sam’s gut clenched at her confused expression. What the hell else was he supposed to do? He’d already rescued her from three dangerous situations. One of these days she was going to be in a fix without him, and then what?
Ellie was the only woman he wanted in his life, but not at the cost of losing her to some nutcase killer. If they broke it off, maybe she’d take his words to heart and keep out of police business. It was the only way he could think to keep her safe.
Ellie had retrieved Rudy and Bitsy and just finished her second round of walks in the first two of her buildings. She still felt brain-battered by Sam’s abrupt dismissal, and his statement continued to ring in her mind. She’d been prepared for him to argue with her about helping Rob, and maybe she could have chosen her words more carefully, but the big kiss-off? Did she deserve that kind of end to their relationship?
“Knock, knock. Anybody home up there?”
She gazed down at Rudy. “Did you say something?”
“Yeah, I said somethin’. I asked you a question.”
“Oh. For a minute there I thought you’d switched from lawyer jokes to knock-knock jokes.”
“Me? Never. But I am lookin’ for a little info.”
“Sorry—my mind was off on another planet.” In fact, Sam’s stinging remarks had been such a surprise that she’d rushed the walks she’d given so far. “What do you want to know?”
“I want to know how we’re supposed to recognize this Rizzoli guy. Will he be wearin’ a red carnation or maybe carryin’ a great, big Dingo bone?”
S
he grinned at her boy, and her heart gave a painful squeeze. Men were a dime a dozen. If Sam decided to end their relationship over something as trivial as her being what he called a snoop, her heart would be broken, but she’d work her way through the pain. If she lost Rudy, on the other hand, she’d be so devastated she might never recover.
“I imagine he’ll be alone, and he’ll look like someone who has an appointment here in the building. If I see a good prospect, I’ll just ask.” She bent and lifted Bitsy into her arms. “As soon as we’re done, we’ll take this little girl to Rob and call it a day.”
She was beat, mentally and physically. Meeting Sam at Guess Who had been a nightmare. After dealing with him and talking to over-the-top performers, she couldn’t wait to get home, nuke a Lean Cuisine, and go to bed. Just then a young man wearing a leather bomber jacket, worn jeans, and scuffed boots came through the door and checked out the lobby. When their gazes locked, he headed in her direction with his hand outstretched.
“You Ellie Engleman?” he asked, pumping her arm.
“That’s me, and I assume you’re Anthony Rizzoli.”
“You got it.” He stepped back to eye Bitsy and Rudy. “These the dogs I’m gonna walk?”
Ellie didn’t want to stare, but Mr. Rizzoli was one nice-looking kid, sort of a modern-day Fonzie from that old television series Happy Days, without the bouffant hair and chains. She thought of Joe Cantiglia and smiled. Some Italian men were definitely fine.
“This is Bitsy.” She set the poohuahua down on the marble tile. “She lives in another building and I’ll be taking her there after our meeting.”
He scanned the foyer with a gleam in his dark brown eyes. “I never met anybody who lived in one of these swanky places. It doesn’t look so hot to me.”
She took note of the Cranston’s newly installed front counter with a storage room behind it, which must have been constructed sometime today. The Cranston Arms had recently hired a new team of doormen who, she’d heard, were supposed to start work next week. Obviously, management would be making a few more changes to bring the place up to the standards of the other complexes on Fifth Avenue.
“Most of the buildings in this area have doormen, but the Cranston is undergoing renovation. From what I understand, they’ll have a new crew in place soon. If you decide to take the job, you’ll need to introduce yourself to them. We can do it together if you start working for me.”
“A doorman? Is that one’a them guys who wears a uniform and tips his hat when he opens the door?” Anthony appeared to approve of this idea. “Sounds like an easy job to me.”
Then maybe you should apply to their union. Ellie kept the remark to herself. There was no need to be snotty, unless this kid said something nasty about walking her pals. Then all bets were off.
“Actually, it’s a very service-oriented position with lots of other duties as well. For now, let me introduce you to my companions.” She couldn’t wait to hear Rudy’s opinion of the man. “The small dog is Bitsy. She’s been staying with me for the past few days.”
Anthony stared at the poohuahua as if she were a rabid rat. “That’s a dog? Kinda small, ain’t she?”
“I only walk small dogs.” Why didn’t you crouch and give Bitsy a pat? “Usually twenty pounds or smaller. My motto is ‘little dogs—little poop,’ but I do walk a few who weigh more. One lives in this building. You’ll meet him in a couple of minutes.”
“Ah . . . poop?”
“You’ll see in a minute.”
“Cut him loose, Triple E. He’s a no-go in my book.”
“How about we get started? Then you’ll see what I mean.”
“Uh—sure. Why not.”
They entered the elevator and rode it to Freud’s floor while Ellie talked about the job. When she used her key to enter the Gordon apartment, Anthony was impressed.
“Will I have keys, too, so I can come and go as I please?”
Ellie squatted to clip Freud to his lead. “The keys are used for planned walks only, and most of the time you won’t go any farther than the doorway, where you’ll hook up the dog. Then you’ll lock the door like this.” She demonstrated the action. “And bring Freud along to pick up the next pooch.”
They took another elevator ride down a couple of floors, where she repeated the steps. After she introduced him to Arlo, they continued their descent, picking up Rocco and Lily along the way. She was so busy telling him about treats and the time he had to spend, she forgot about Bitsy until they arrived at the Lowensteins’.
“This is the last pickup. Then it’s off to the park.” She knocked, then stuck the key in Sampson’s door. When she opened the apartment, Mariette didn’t appear, but Sampson was waiting with the leash in his mouth. After she attached the lead, she closed the door and locked it.
“Hold up a second, Ellie. We got a problem.”
She gazed at Bitsy and her stomach dropped. The poor baby was trembling so hard she could barely stand. When the rest of the pack began circling the poohuahua as if protecting her, Ellie picked her up and held her close.
“What’s wrong with the little one?” Anthony asked.
“I have no idea.” She cradled Bitsy in her arms. “It’s okay, sweetie,” she said, leading the dogs to the elevator. Since it was not the time to discuss the poohuahua’s problems with a stranger, she carried Bitsy out of the complex and across the avenue to the park.
Then she gave Bitsy’s lead to Anthony. “You take her, and watch that you don’t step on her while I show you the most important part of the job.” She went over the steps he would have to follow after each dog did its business, explaining that a ticket for failure to clean up after a canine was the one thing she would not be responsible for during his employment.
Anthony did an acceptable job and copied Ellie’s actions as she and her pack walked up the block and back again. Then, with her eye on Bitsy, she led them to the Cranston and showed him the last part of the job. About a month ago she’d compiled a sample report and taken it to a printer, where she had tablets made. Now, instead of writing a time-consuming note, all she had to do was fill in the canine’s name and check off its performance. There was also a spot at the bottom for comments.
“After you make note of things on this list and set it on a hall table or kitchen counter, give the dog a biscuit, lock up, and go to the next apartment. When you’re finished dropping off the pack, you’re on your own until it’s time to return for the second round of the day.”
“Holy crappola,” said Anthony when they rode the elevator down. “This is a lot harder job than I thought it would be.”
“It’s really fun once you get used to it, but if you don’t think you can handle it . . .”
“I didn’t say that. It’s just that there’s so much, ah . . .”
“Time involved?”
“Well, yeah.”
They stood in the building’s foyer, where Ellie set her tote bag on the new counter and pulled out paperwork. “You’ll need to fill out these forms, and you have my phone number. If you want the job, call and let me know, and we’ll meet here tomorrow morning. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll assume you decided against it.”
Anthony Rizzoli took the papers and stuffed them in his jacket pocket. “Okay, sure. I’ll call you.”
When he turned and strutted out the door, Ellie gave her boy a grin. “Think we’ll hear from him?”
“Not in this lifetime.”
“I agree.” She checked on Bitsy, who appeared somewhat calmer. “Okay, time to go to the Davenport and get this little girl home,” she said, heading for the sidewalk. “She’s not used to this much walking. I imagine it’s tired her out, and that’s why she’s so upset.”
Ellie had a lot more to worry about than one job applicant. There was Rob and his murder charge. And then there was Sam . . .
Kronk, wearing an almost-earnest expression, strode from behind the counter when she entered the Davenport foyer. “Ell-ee, my friend. I haf question for you.”
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She scanned the lobby, pleased that it was devoid of angry tenants demanding Rob’s eviction. “Hello to you, too, Kronk. What do you need?”
“I need you to make nice for me.”
“Excuse me?”
“To write letter to owners of build-ink and tell them I did right think when I ask tenants for their papers.”
“You want me to write a letter—for you?” Duh. Wasn’t that what the man just said?
“You tell them I did okay job, yes. I was polite and did not offense.”
“Uh, sure,” she said, intuiting what he wanted more than understanding his accented English. “Give me the company’s address and who to send it to, and I’ll write a letter.” She headed for the elevator, afraid to hear the reason for the request. If Kronk was fighting for his job, he might actually encourage the management to toss Rob out. “I’ll pick it up when I finish the walks.”
The elevator door closed and she sighed. She didn’t consider herself a friend of the Russian the way she was with Randall, but doing a simple task wasn’t a problem. Someday, crazy Kronk might repay the favor.
After collecting the dogs, who seemed happy to see Bitsy, she led them across the street to do business and then back to the Davenport, relieved to find the doorman so engrossed in handling deliveries for the tenants that he couldn’t bother with her. It was a little later than usual, but she’d had too many diversions to keep her on schedule today, and she still had to take Bitsy home and meet Rob’s sister.
Walk time finished, she returned the dogs to their apartments and aimed for Rob’s floor, where she knocked on the door instead of using her key. While waiting, Rudy started to prance in place and Bitsy sniffed the bottom of the threshold, a clue that something was up.
“Bradley’s here! He’s here!” the poohuahua practically shouted, her joy clear.
When a deep snurffle seeped from under the door, she knocked again.
“Uh, Ellie,” her boy intoned. “Take it slow, will ya? This could turn ugly.”
“Ugly? Don’t be silly. Bitsy’s happy, and I know Rob wants her back with him.” She heard a deep woof, then another snurffle. “See, Bradley’s happy we’re here, too.”
