Heir of the Dog

by Judi McCoy

  “Ah, I don’t know. I’m merely speculating.” Accustomed to brushing past the conversations she held with her dog, she said, “I think I saw it once on—on television.”

  “Really? Mind telling me what show that might have been?”

  Great. She never watched cop shows on TV or went to any type of movie with violence or mayhem, so she had no idea where she could have viewed the scenario. “Um . . . an episode of Law and Order, maybe. I don’t remember.”

  “Try CSI,” Rudy encouraged. “Real cops hate that show.”

  “Like I need to get on anyone’s bad side.”

  “You’ll only be on Gruning’s bad side if you know something and don’t tell him,” the officer intoned.

  When her overseer came to attention, Ellie assumed Gruning had returned, so she pasted a smile on her lips and faced him. “What was all the commotion about?”

  “Police business.” He glared at Rudy. “We don’t need any mutts mucking up the crime scene, so keep hold of his leash, Ms. Engleman, or I’ll be forced to impound him. Got that?”

  “My dog is probably cleaner than a lot of the people rifling through here, and this is a park with birds, rabbits, squirrels. I don’t see how a little dog hair—”

  A technician approached, holding a set of tweezers and a plastic bag. Before she could stop him, the man bent and plucked a clump of Rudy’s fur.

  “Yeow!” Growling, Rudy lunged forward, and both the tech and Gruning jumped back. “Easy with the police brutality.”

  Ellie knelt and ran a soothing hand along her boy’s coat, then threw both men a glare. “I would have done that myself, if you’d asked.”

  “Just control your animal,” Gruning warned. Still eyeing the Yorkiepoo, he said to her guard, “Escort Ms. Engleman home so she can drop off her attack dog, then bring her to the station.”

  Sam nodded at a group of officers shooting the breeze around the water cooler. Instead of calling hello or shouting a string of joking insults, they merely nodded in return. But when he headed down the hall toward his office, a whisper of comments buzzed behind him.

  What the hell was going on? Did he have toilet paper stuck to his shoe? Maybe he’d split the seam in his pants or—

  “How many times do I have to say it? Gary was a friend. I didn’t meet him until after I started my dog-walking business.”

  Stopping short, Sam kept his feet glued in place. He’d recognize that female voice anywhere, even in the dark. In fact, it had been the dead of night the last time he’d heard it, and it still made his gut clench with desire.

  What the heck was Ellie Engleman doing here?

  Swamped with guilt, or maybe regret, he crossed to the other side of the hall, as if passing directly in front of the interrogation room would alert her to his presence. He didn’t doubt she’d be unhappy to see him. Technically, she had every right to call him a creep and slap him, or worse, pretend he didn’t exist.

  The one night they’d spent together flashed in his brain, as it did from time to time when his mind wandered, or on nights when he was alone and feeling sorry for himself. Other than that, he hardly thought about her at all.

  Striding to the office he shared with three other detectives, he closed the door, took a seat, and shuffled through a mound of paperwork. Then he swung his desk chair around to his computer and logged on, preparing to finish the six reports he should have filed a week ago. After hitting the command keys, the template showed on the screen and he focused on the pink sheets, but Ellie’s perfect features continued to pop into view.

  He palmed his face, rubbing his eyes. Damn, when would he be able to put her out of his mind and get back to business?

  Minutes passed while he concentrated on the computer screen, but it was no use. The question continued to nag him. Why was Ellie being held in an interrogation room? She’d been his own personal bad penny when she’d stuck her nose in Albright’s investigation. Now she was in the precinct again, just a few months later, only this time she wasn’t horning in on his case. Still, she had to have done something to get her ass hauled in for questioning.

  His partner, Vince Fugazzo, sauntered through the door wearing a neatly pressed shirt and matching tie. One of the benefits of having a wife, Sam supposed.

  “Hey, did you hear about the guy they found in the Ramble?”

  “What guy?”

  “Some homeless dude, Gary somebody-or-other, lived in the bowels of Central Park. Seems he got shot, and your girlfriend found the body.”

  Girlfriend? “What the hell are you talking about?” Sam asked, though he guessed the answer even before Vince spoke.

  “You know, the doll who got in your face about those dognappings. The one who helped you wrap the case.” His partner snorted a laugh. “The case a couple of the other guys have hinted she solved for you.”

  He heaved a silent sigh. There was no need to explain things to his partner. Vince knew he was dedicated, even if Ellie had done a lot of legwork on the Albright murder.

  “Those other guys can go to hell,” Sam muttered, squinting at the screen. Who the fuck had come up with the idea of a computer anyway? Damned plastic boxes were nothing but a nuisance, with a mind of their own and a dozen ways to screw with a normal man’s brain.

  “I second the sentiment, buddy. Just the same, you can’t stop the talk.” He sat at his desk and pulled a stack of pictures from his shirt pocket. “Hey, want to see the latest photos of Angelina? Took ’em myself with that fancy camera Natalie bought me for Father’s Day.” He tossed the pictures on Sam’s desk. “I got one beautiful baby there, pal. Pretty soon, I’ll have to beat the boys off with a stick.”

  Sam flipped through the photos and had to agree. Angelina was about five months old, with a pixie face, a tuft of dark curly hair, and her mother’s striking doe eyes. His sister Susan was having a girl, too. Didn’t it figure? Pretty soon women would rule the world.

  “You’re becoming a regular pro with that Nikon. What are these, pics number one thousand through one thousand fifty?”

  “Very funny. Just wait till you have a kid of your own. You’ll be singing another tune, I promise you.” Vince scooped up the photos and tucked them in his drawer. “So, you want I should take a trip down the hall and get the scoop on that Engleman babe?”

  “Makes no never mind to me,” Sam said with a shrug. “I have paperwork to do.”

  “Sure, no problem.” Vince’s face creased in a smirk. “I’ll even get the skinny on how she looks.”

  She probably looks as terrific as ever, thought Sam, though Ellie would never admit it. She was forever covering her curves, thinking she had to hide them instead of show them off. But she hadn’t been able to hide them from him, a fact that either made him smile or frown, depending upon his mood.

  He ground his molars. This was not the time to dwell on the past, not now, not ever. He’d already fucked up one woman’s life because of this job. There was no need to fuck up a second. Fugazzo was lucky. He and his wife were in love, and Sam would bet his last bullet their marriage would survive the taxing mental and physical tolls this profession took on a person. Vince wasn’t like most of the men in their department, screwing around on his wife and bragging about it. But women like Natalie Fugazzo were few and far between.

  Ellie already had one “failed” on her scorecard, just like he did. She deserved better than a guy who worked twenty-hour days and put his life on the line while doing so. The job of an NYPD detective had driven plenty of good women to divorce court or caused them to cheat on their husbands. He cared for her too much to see her share the same fate.

  Vince swaggered back inside, loosening the knot in his tie as he walked. Sitting at his desk, he whistled as he tapped a couple of keys on the computer, then dug through a pile of folders. When he found the one he wanted, he flipped it open and logged on to the system.

  Sam drummed the desk with his fingers.

  His partner stared intently at the screen.

  Leaning back in
his chair, Sam heaved a sigh. “Okay, so how is she?”

  “I was on family leave when you had the Albright case, so I never got a good look at her before tonight. How come you didn’t tell me she had legs up to her arm-pits and a rack that would wake a dead man? Nice face, too. Innocent, high-class, yet sexy as hell.”

  “Did you find out why she’s here?” Sam asked, not about to comment on the man’s spot-on description.

  Vince swiveled his seat around. “Your girl found the vic’s body in the park while walking her dog. He was shot at close range, once in the heart with a forty-four. The shooter covered his body with debris. They found the silencer, a one-quart plastic soda bottle, but no weapon.”

  “So why are they holding her?”

  “Officially, it’s just routine questioning, but you know Gruning. If there’s an easy way out, he’ll take it, and right now she’s it.”

  No way in hell would Ellie ever commit murder. The woman was so averse to violence she refused to watch a crime show on television or go to a shoot-’em-up movie. She was such a softy she cried when a dog owner died, and not for the owner. She wailed for the damn mutt.

  “Why would he think that?”

  “It’s Gruning. There doesn’t need to be a reason.”

  “Then it’s definitely his and Smith’s case?”

  “Yep.”

  The pair might be assholes, but they were damn lucky assholes. The incompetent dicks always seemed to get a case that solved itself. Even more annoying, ever since Sam had tied a murder he was investigating to one that was on Gruning and Smith’s list a couple of years back, both men had it in for him. Especially Gruning.

  “And they didn’t find the murder weapon?” He couldn’t imagine Ellie holding a gun, let alone firing it.

  “Nope, but they’re looking. Seems your girlfriend mentioned that she knew an empty plastic bottle would act as a silencer, and that got Gruning’s attention.”

  “She actually told him she knew how that worked?”

  “Not Gruning, but she mentioned it to the cop standing guard, and he relayed it to the lead detective, just like he was supposed to.”

  Sam hunched over his desk. It didn’t make sense. Ellie had probably babbled nonsense, not given her expertise on the creative criminal use of a plastic soda bottle. Hell, she talked to her dog as if the mutt was human, a fact he knew to be true because she’d done it enough times while she was on his tail about Albright’s murder. She’d probably thrown out a stupid remark when she saw them dig up the bottle, without realizing anything she said could be used against her.

  “There also seems to be another small problem.”

  Fuck. “And that would be?”

  “She’s refusing to hand over her tote bag. Says they already took a look and cleared it once, so they now need a warrant for a second inspection. Not a good way for someone who claims they’re innocent to handle themselves,” Vince added.

  Sam pushed away from his desk and headed for the door. What in the hell was wrong with her? Ellie knew better than to act as if she had something to hide. “I’d better see what I can do.”

  “Don’t get involved,” his partner warned.

  “I have to. She isn’t guilty.”

  “Gruning will have you up on professional charges if you interfere. You know that.”

  “To hell with that asshole. I’m not going to let him pin a murder on an innocent woman just because he’s a lazy SOB. Besides, without a murder weapon or eyewitness, they can’t legally keep her here.”

  He charged into the hall, knocked on the holding room door, and let himself in. Ellie saw him, and her complexion bled white. “What’s up, Murphy?” he asked, focusing on the officer on duty.

  “Just waiting for Gruning to file the paperwork for a search warrant. The lady isn’t cooperating, so it’s either that or arrest her.”

  Sam frowned. “Give us a second, okay?”

  “It’s your funeral,” said Murphy. “I’ll be right outside.”

  The door closed, and Sam inhaled a breath for self-control, then met her glare. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why can’t Gruning look through your bag?”

  Ellie held her tote close on her lap. “It’s a pleasure seeing you again, too, Detective Ryder. Now go away.”

  “This is serious,” he began, but he could tell from the set of her lips she wasn’t going to talk unless he made nice. “How have you been?”

  “Fine.”

  “You’re pissed because I didn’t call—”

  “Me? Pissed? Whatever gave you that idea?” She raised her nose in the air. “Just because we slept together doesn’t mean you owe me anything.”

  He gazed at the ceiling. This was not the time or place to discuss the past. “You know things will go easier if you cooperate.”

  Her shoulders straightened. “I want a lawyer.”

  “Why? Did you shoot that guy?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then tell me what’s in your purse.” He sat across from her at the table. “We’ll find out anyway.”

  “Gruning already had a cop search my bag in the park, and he didn’t find anything. If they want a second look, they need a warrant . . . Don’t they?”

  “That’s debatable,” Sam intoned. Then he got the message. “What are you hiding?”

  She huffed a breath, opened the bag, and dug around until she pulled out a grubby business size envelope. “Pops gave this to me tonight, in private I might add.” She set it on the table. “It’s from Gary.”

  “Gary?”

  “The victim.”

  “Oh, hell.” He ran a hand over his jaw. “What’s inside?”

  She shrugged. “I haven’t had a chance to open it, so why should I give it up? Pops said it was for me.”

  “If it’s from the victim, it could be evidence.”

  “That patrolman guarding me probably blabbed,” she ground out. “What nerve.”

  “Wait a minute. A cop saw someone hand this to you while you were standing right there, and it was after they’d searched the bag?”

  “That’s what I’m telling you.”

  He picked up the envelope and held it to the light. “Looks like there’s a key inside.”

  She leaned forward, as if trying to see through the paper. “I don’t have a clue what it is. Honest.”

  “Well, somebody has to take a look.” He slid a finger under the flap and gauged her response. “You mind?”

  “No, go ahead,” she said, pouting. “I just wanted to see it before Gruning. That’s all.”

  Sam thought about calling Murphy in as a witness, then decided against it. Ellie might hate him, but she’d never leave him hanging out to dry. If she gave her word, she’d keep it. She was too honest to do anything else. “I’m going to inspect it, but I want you to promise that whatever it is, you won’t say this was an illegal search, you got that?”

  “I got it.”

  He slit the envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper and a key. After reading the handwritten page, he tucked the envelope and its contents into his pants pocket. Then he scowled at her. “Christ, Ellie. What have you gotten yourself into this time?”

  Chapter 2

  Sam kept his tone neutral while he spoke to Gruning, in case the idiot decided to be a bigger asshole than usual. “Put her in my custody, and I’ll take full responsibility,” he said to the detective. “The woman wouldn’t slap a mosquito, never mind pop a homeless man.”

  “If that’s true, she has nothing to worry about if we do another search of her bag,” Gruning responded in a smarmy tone.

  Sam stuffed a hand in his pocket and wrapped his fingers around Ellie’s envelope. Rarely did he break the rules, but this was a special case. “It’s the principle of the thing. Claims you already took a look in her bag at the crime scene, and you didn’t find anything, so you don’t get another search without a warrant. It’s late, and we’re all tired. You can hold the tote and have a look-see in the morning, when she comes back wi
th her lawyer.”

  Gruning fished a mint from his jacket pocket, stuck it in his mouth, and chewed. “Did I tell you that bum’s shelter was a mess? Mattress was shredded, boxes emptied—the killer even tore up the moldy carpet squares padding the floor. There’s no doubt he was searching for something, probably drugs. The dead guy wasn’t a known dealer, but nothing else makes sense.” He chomped on the mint. “We’ll get a better idea after the toxicology screening.”

  “Do you seriously think Ms. Engleman deals drugs?” Sam did his best not to laugh. From his perspective, he could see that the candy Gruning just ate was covered in lint.

  “Little Mary Sunshine could be into anything.” Crunch, crunch. “Sometimes the ones that appear the most innocent are the most guilty.”

  “Take it from me, this lady is lily white,” Sam insisted, wondering how a mouthful of fuzz tasted. “I’ll have her back here bright and early, okay?”

  Gruning pursed his full lips. “Eight a.m. and not a minute later. And I want that bag before she leaves.”

  Sam walked into the interrogation room and nodded at Ellie’s tote. “Here’s the deal. Gruning will hold the bag until morning, but he swears he won’t look inside until you come back with a lawyer for the unveiling. Remove your keys, wallet, and cell phone, before he changes his mind.”

  Ellie pulled out what he suggested and passed him the tote, but Sam stopped her before she followed him into Gruning’s office. “Seeing you will only irritate him. I’ll be out in a second.” Striding through the door, he dropped the bag on Gruning’s desk. “I let her keep the keys, wallet, and cell phone.”

  “Just remember, she’s your responsibility for the next eight hours. That means you stick to her like dog shit on a shoe, and get her back here on time tomorrow or it’s your funeral.”

  Sam nodded and made it into the hall in time to see Ellie striding away like a power walker at the Olympics. Taking off at a jog, he caught her as she skipped down the precinct steps.

  “So, where’s your dog?”

  “Gruning let me bring him home before a cop drove me here.”