by Judi McCoy
Thinking happy thoughts, she gathered fresh underthings, jeans, and a heavy red sweater, and came up with a plan. If Sam trekked to the Bagel Bin and picked up breakfast while she took Rudy around the block, that would save some time.
She could make her hair appointment, and he could check in with the station. After that, they’d be free.
Thirty minutes later, Ellie, Sam, and Rudy were out the door. “Wow, I don’t believe it,” she said, studying the building’s front stoop. “Mr. Denopolis already cleared the porch and threw on salt. Someone from the tenants’ association must have reamed him about the building’s upkeep.”
“Are you saying this doesn’t happen with every snowfall?” Sam asked, holding her hand to guide her down the stairs.
“Hah! You’re kidding, right?” She scanned the sidewalk, then took a look at Rudy, who was already lifting a leg on the side of the porch. “But I’m thinking salt might not be good for Rudy’s paws. Maybe I should buy him boots.”
“Cross that off your to-do list right now.” Rudy gave a head-to-tail shake. “And don’t bring it up again, or you’ll be sorry.”
“I think he’d look adorable in shiny red booties, don’t you?” she continued, ignoring her boy’s sassy comment.
They held hands as they walked to the corner. “Beats me, but knowing what a grump he is, I doubt he’ll like it,” said Sam.
“For once the clown is right.”
“You remember Flora Steinman, don’t you?”
“The older woman with that snooty little dog you handled at the Javits Center a few months back?”
“That’s the one. Flora’s housekeeper told me they were ordering a set for Lulu from a woman who specializes in designer doggie duds. And since Lulu’s coat matches Rudy’s, it might be nice if he had a set, too. Adorable, really.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so?”
“Sorry, but ‘adorable’ is not a word I’d used to describe your dog,” said Sam, smiling.
“Me neither, but if I could dress like my doll baby—”
Stopping at the corner, they waited for a convoy of city trucks to pass. The neighborhood was a beehive of activity. Plows had come by and shoved the snow into piles of glistening white against the parked cars. People were now on the streets in force, clearing the sidewalks, tossing salt and chemical deicer, and shoveling their vehicles out from under the accumulated snow.
She loved the look and smell of a fresh snowfall, even if it would only last for a day before the fluffy stuff turned dingy with trash and dog urine. By Monday, the snow would be pushed into slushy mounds on the corners, covered in the accumulated filth of a huge city. She’d never actually played in the snow or made a snowman, but she imagined it would be nice to go somewhere like Vermont or upstate next winter, maybe for Christmas, so she and Sam could take their first joint vacation.
“I think snow is wonderful. It’s like waking up to a magic kingdom, all clean and white and fresh.”
Sam scrunched his forehead. “If you ask me, it’s only good for one thing. A lot of these places are closed, so the robbery count goes down, as does the number of citizens who have physical altercations. But fender benders go on the rise, so it evens out.”
“Do you always have to look at everything that takes place in this city in terms of how it might relate to a crime? That is so jaded.”
“Somebody has to, and I decided ten years ago it would be me. My life is no picnic, babe, and you’ve been great at not letting it get you down. A lot better than Carol—” He raised his face to the cloudless sky and blew out a breath, then gazed into her eyes. “A lot better than most of the women I know.”
“I can smell the schmaltz from here.”
Ellie stepped aside to make room for people ready to cross the street. “Oh, Sam, that’s so sweet. It could even be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Leaning forward, he kissed the tear she hadn’t realized she’d shed. “You deserve someone who always says sweet things to you, Ellie. And I want that someone to be me.”
The warmth of his words spread straight to her toes. She opened her mouth to tell him so, but he shook his head. “We can talk about it later. Right now, I just want to say one thing.”
“Well, say it fast, because my paws are so cold they’re stickin’ to the cement.”
Sam’s sly grin told her the tender moment had passed. “Paying the parking garage a week’s salary is worth it, compared to what I might have had to do if I’d parked on the street.”
She slugged him in the shoulder. “You are such a romantic.”
“You bet I am. Here’s where we split up, correct?”
“Get movin’, buster, before my tail freezes off.”
Ellie was cold, too, but in a good way, and the morning had turned bright, even with Rudy’s complaints. The sun was shining, the sky was a brilliant blue, and her world felt crisp and clean. “Correct. You go to the Bagel Bin to pick up breakfast while I finish the walk, go back to the apartment, and start the coffee.”
“And I’ll bring everything home, including enough bagels for tomorrow morning.” He gave her a quick kiss good-bye and headed across the street.
Things couldn’t be better. Sam had given her the best of all compliments. He’d compared her to Carolanne and she’d won. Since they rarely mentioned their exspouses, it was a big step. Now it was her turn to tell him how much happier she was with him than she’d been with the dickhead.
Thinking about what she would say, and when, she ignored Rudy’s continued commentary, bought a newspaper with the spare change she found in her jacket pocket, and led her boy home.
In the apartment, Ellie hung up their snow gear, and Rudy followed her into the kitchen, where she mixed his morning nibble and set it on his mat. “Were you serious when you said you’d wear boots if Lulu wore them?”
He pulled his muzzle out of the bowl. “If it’ll get Lulu warm for my form, darn right I will.”
“I wouldn’t go that far, but the two of you would look cute walking side by side wearing them. Maybe we should check with Miss Pickypants to see if she would mind, or just ask Flora to order two sets.”
She filled the carafe with water and poured it in the coffeemaker, then measured the whole beans of her favorite dark roast into the grinder and let it spin. After she filled the basket and turned on the coffeemaker, she pulled her homemade caramel sauce and her latest local find—fat-free half-and-half—out of the fridge.
“The coffee will be ready in a couple of minutes. Do you want anything before I make a Caramel Bliss and start reading the paper?”
“A Dingo bone might be nice.” Rudy sat at her feet. “I believe I deserve it for lettin’ you and Detective Doofus sleep in this morning.”
“I wish you wouldn’t call him that. It’s so insulting. But you were a good boy, so the rawhide chew is fine.” She took the requested treat from the cupboard and tossed it in his direction. “There—now stay busy with that and let me catch up on the news.”
A minute later, she poured steaming coffee into her favorite cup, added caramel sauce, the half-and-half, and a blue packet of sweetener. After taking her drink to the table, she opened the newspaper.
“What are you hopin’ to find in that rag?” Rudy asked, sitting on the fluff mat with the bone between his paws.
She took a long swallow of coffee. “I’m hoping there’ll be something miraculous about Rob and the murder, like how the real killer walked into one of the precincts and confessed.”
“You do realize that’s yesterday’s paper you’re reading.”
She scanned the date printed on the header. “Well, shoot. And Sam probably would have told me if the real killer had confessed.”
“Maybe yes, maybe no. It’s hard tellin’ with Detective Doo—er—Ryder.”
“He would, especially since he knows I believe Rob is innocent.” She took another sip of coffee. “He’s been exemplary since he arrived last night.” She glanced at the clock on her microwave.
“Where do you think he is, by the way?”
Instead of answering, Rudy gnawed on his bone.
Ellie drummed her fingers on the tabletop. “It’s been almost an hour since we left him at the corner.”
“Maybe he got lost.”
She took a swallow of her Caramel Bliss. “He couldn’t be lost. The Bagel Bin is only two blocks up the street. You can practically see it from our front stoop.”
“Stranger things have happened. He coulda got hit by a snowplow.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say.”
“Okay, so maybe he shot himself in the foot.”
“That’s not funny. You can dream all you want, but the detective is in our life to stay.”
Still, Rudy’s silly comments got her thinking. When he stayed the night, Sam always hung his gun and body holster on the back of a kitchen chair, but he wore it whenever he went out, even if he was off duty. Though she hadn’t seen him put it on before they left, it was gone, so she was certain he was wearing it now.
A siren sounded in the distance and her heart jumped. She took another gulp of coffee and the siren’s wail grew louder. Standing, she again tugged her boots on and went into the front closet to get her coat, hat, and gloves.
Rudy followed her into the hall. “Hey, where you goin’?”
“That siren is driving me nuts, and I’m worried about Sam. I’m going to check outside.”
“It’s freezin’ out there. Maybe the regular shop was closed, so he went lookin’ for another one.”
“Something’s wrong. I can feel it.” She jammed her knit hat over her curls and opened the door. “Stay here and be good. I’ll be back as soon as I find him.”
Chapter 16
Sam sauntered up the street, dodging the snow flying from shovels and, in one instance, a snowblower gone wild. As in most areas of the city, the people who were taking care of the sidewalks and stoops were a talkative bunch, calling out to complain about the lousy weather and to wish their neighbors well. Funny how something like a blizzard could bring out the best in folks.
He hated the snow, but Ellie seemed to love it, which meant he had to get used to it. Next thing, she’d want to take a walk in Central Park, where she’d probably whack him with a snowball. But it was a price he was willing to pay to keep her happy.
Stopping at the corner, he speed-dialed the records department, but all he got was a recording. At this rate, it would be a week before he received the info he needed on the judge who’d handed down a sentence in Carmella Sunday’s final arrest. He was working on a hunch, but it was all he had until he brainstormed with Vince.
A block later, he arrived at the Bagel Bin, pleased to find it open for business. Out of habit, he took a look through the front window before he entered. It was then that he spotted the cashier, standing behind the register with his hands in the air.
Taking a step back, he again peered inside and got a better look at the man on the customer side of the counter—a lanky guy wearing a stocking cap and dark clothes, with his gun raised level with the clerk.
His heart shifted into overdrive. So much for blizzards bringing out the best in people. They could also bring out the worst. Breaking into a sweat, he speed-dialed and reported a Code 10, asking for backup. Then he prepared to do his job.
Raising his Glock, he stepped through the doorway, ducked to one knee, and pulled a table over for cover. The second he did, the clerk disappeared behind the counter.
“Police! Freeze!”
The gunman spun around and fired, but the shot went wild.
“Drop the gun!”
The kid stared him down, the weapon still in his hand.
Sam had no choice. He aimed low and fired, hitting the boy in his right leg. Screaming, the punk fell to the floor, and his gun skittered a few feet away.
It was then that every drop of air left Sam’s body in a single rush of breath. He’d been in this situation before, but always with a fellow officer. On his own, and without backup, he had to follow proper procedure step by careful step.
Standing, he kept his gun trained on the downed shooter. His gut clenched when he saw the gunman was a boy of no more than seventeen. Hell, the kid should have been home digging his dad’s car out of the snow, or shoveling walks to make a buck. Not doing this sort of thing.
Still clutching his lower leg, the boy moaned. Sam took a step closer and kicked the gun farther away. Sirens sounded in the distance and relief filled his senses.
The clerk rose from his hiding place, his eyes wide with panic. Sam gave a nod. “You okay?”
“Yeah. So you got him?”
“Take a look.”
Inching over the counter, the shopkeeper stared at his assailant. “That’s a lotta blood. Is he going to make it?”
The sirens grew louder, almost drowning out the clerk’s voice, and Sam’s blood pressure dropped a notch. “Best guess is yes.”
“He’s a kid. Where’d he get that gun?”
“We’ll run a trace, but I doubt anything will turn up. Help’s almost here. Hang tight until an officer comes in and takes your statement. Understand?”
“Yeah, yeah. Sure. Whatever you say.”
The kid moaned again. “I need a doctor. I’m bleedin’ here.”
The sirens’ screams blasted into the store; blue lights flashing from the street pulsed through the window. Sam set his lips in a grim line and stared at the boy.
“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you.”
“Fuck off, buddy. I want a doc.”
Three officers stepped into the shop, guns ready. Sam lowered his weapon and pulled out his shield. It was going to be a long morning.
Sam stared through the sea of blue crowding the Bagel Bin. The crime scene tech team had already found and bagged the bullet fired by the gunman, and Miles and Stanley, the detectives in charge, were taking the deli clerk’s statement and talking to the two bakers who’d been working in the kitchen when the robbery began. Aside from waiting for his heart rate to return to normal, there wasn’t a lot more he needed to do.
Just then, the patrolman covering the front door answered his radio and the voice of Frank Landon, the officer out front in charge of crowd control, came across loud and clear.
“There’s a woman out here calls herself Engleman, Ellen Elizabeth. Says she needs to talk with Ryder ASAP. Claims she and him are in a personal relationship, and she won’t leave until she sees him.”
Sipkovitz turned and grinned, probably because he knew everyone in the store had heard the story. “You want to talk to a woman name’s Engleman, Ellen Elizabeth? According to Landon, she says you two are—involved.” He let the last word hang, along with the invisible finger quotes.
Sam stood and nodded, avoiding the snickers of the other officers. “Tell him to let her through.” Then he held up a hand. There was blood on the floor and a spatter against the base of the counter. Ellie had seen a bloody crime scene before—just last week, in fact—but that didn’t mean she needed to see this mess.
“Hang on. Tell him I’m coming out, and then let Stanley or Miles know I’ll be back.” Steeling himself for a scene, he heaved a breath. Meeting with his “bad penny” was going to be tougher than that appointment he’d have to keep with the department shrink because of the shooting.
He stepped outside and spotted Ellie. Except for a patch of pink on each cheek, her complexion was as white as the new-fallen snow. Chewing on a thumbnail, she stood staring at the door as if waiting for her executioner. The color in her eyes deepened when their gazes locked, and she gave him a thousand-watt smile.
He couldn’t think what to do, so she made the decision for him. Throwing herself into his arms, she squeezed him so tight the air rushed from his lungs in one huge gasp.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m fine,” he muttered, patting her back. Damn, but he was useless. Carolanne hadn’t ever shown one minute of worry over him, even when he’d been nicked in a gang s
ting a few years back. Except for comforting his mother and sisters after his dad died, he’d never had to make a woman feel cared for. What the hell else was he supposed to say?
Ellie’s shoulders shook, and he sighed. Her tears always threw him a curve, especially when she cried because she was relieved or happy. Why the hell couldn’t women wear signs when they sobbed? Something like: HAPPY TEARS, NO NEED TO WORRY Or: MISERABLE. COMFORT ME, PLEASE.
“What can I do to make this better?” he asked, positive it was a dumb question.
“I—I’m—I—”She pulled back and rubbed her nose in her palm. After heaving a breath, she gazed up at him with a tremulous smile on her beautiful face. “You’ve already made it better, just by being here and not in the ambulance that pulled away a couple of minutes ago.”
He led her out of the path of the crime technicians tromping out of the Bagel Bin, and again held her in his arms. “What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to wait for me in the apartment.”
“I was. I walked Rudy, made coffee, the whole nine yards. When I heard the sirens I knew—I just knew you were in trouble, so I threw on boots and a jacket and came straight here.”
She sniffed and shivered, and he rested his chin on top of her head. “You want me to believe you heard the sirens and knew I was in a jam.”
“It’s true. You can ask—” She shook her head. “Just believe me, okay?”
“Sure, sure, fine.” Anything to calm her down. “Did Landon tell you what happened?”
“Sort of. But someone in the crowd said that shots were fired, so I was a bit . . . distracted by the time I got to him.”
“You thought I was hit?”
“I didn’t know for sure, and Landon wouldn’t say. When I saw the boy on the gurney, I almost collapsed. A thousand things ran through my mind. If you were the one shot, you’d have been taken out first, but you weren’t, which meant you were okay or you were—you might have been—”
