by Judi McCoy
Sam had done the same thing the morning he’d met her at Albright’s apartment and dragged her in for questioning. Was Gruning getting soft? Couldn’t be, he decided. Besides, he had his orders from the hard-boiled investigating officer and he couldn’t chance screwing them up.
“I’ll take you home.”
She kept on walking.
He leaned into her, steering her toward the police lot. “My car is over there.”
She crossed the street on the diagonal, and he mumbled a curse. When he reached her side, he clasped her elbow. “Come on, Ellie. I said I’d see you home.”
She jerked her arm free and continued plowing down the sidewalk.
Deciding to give it one more try, he double-timed his steps and danced in front of her. She sidled left, then right, and he followed. Finally, she stood still and crossed her arms.
“What do you want?”
“I’m taking you home.”
“I’ll pass on that. I’m beat and not up to another round of questioning.”
“You’re missing my point. You were released into my custody.” She wasn’t going to be any happier when she heard the rest of it, but that could wait until they got to her place. “I’m your official escort.”
“What? Why?”
“Because you’re a ‘person of interest.’ Gruning let me vouch for you, so you wouldn’t have to spend the night in a cell, and you can be present tomorrow when they search the bag, with or without a lawyer.”
She ducked into the doorway of a deli that was closed for the night. “I need time alone. Give me the envelope so I can check what’s inside. I promise to report to Gruning in the morning, as requested.”
“You’re not listening. I have to make sure you go to your apartment and nowhere else.” The words shot from his lips before he knew the reason why. “Now let’s move.”
He again took her elbow, relieved when she didn’t pull away, and steered her to his car. In five minutes, they were driving uptown. “Did this Gary have friends? Other homeless people you met when you were with him?” Sam asked, trying to get a handle on her relationship with the victim.
She shook her head. “I don’t usually speak to street people, but Gary was different. He liked Rudy, so he stopped to chat whenever he saw us at the park. It was harmless.”
“Had you been to his shelter before tonight?”
“A couple of times,” she said with a shrug. “I gave him an umbrella for his birthday a few months back, and he brought me to his place whenever he got something new for his cardboard box. That’s all.”
“And you didn’t worry that he or somebody else might take advantage of you while you were in the bowels of the park?”
“Of course not.”
Sam clenched the steering wheel. “Don’t you realize what might have happened to you?”
“I know. I could have been robbed—raped—worse, but Rudy was always with me, and Gary is . . . was a gentle soul. He wouldn’t have hurt anyone.”
Now at their destination, he double-parked the car in front of her building, and she hopped out. He raced behind her, prepared to tell her she was getting an overnight guest, but before he spoke she undid the entryway lock and turned.
“Go home, Sam. I appreciate the help, but I don’t need you in my life, and I’m fairly certain I’m not welcome in yours.”
Instead of answering, he followed her up the steps and waited until she unlocked her apartment, where she held out her hand and said, “I’ll take that envelope now.”
Annoyed, he grabbed her wrist, removed the keys, and headed for the street, calling over his shoulder, “You can read it when I come back.”
“What’s he doing here?” Rudy asked, standing on his hind legs when she opened the door. “And did they figure out who killed Gary?”
Ellie heaved a sigh. Why the heck was Sam holding that envelope? What was he trying to pull? Rudy nosed her knee, and she glanced at him. “Hello to you, too. Have you been good?”
“Good as I can be when I’m worried about you. Viv walked me a couple of hours ago, but didn’t give me dinner, so I’m starving.”
She grinned. “I’ll take care of it as soon as I—”
“Just tell me what’s going on? Why’s the defective dick here? What does he have to do with all this?”
“You don’t need to worry about it.”
“Then what took you so long?”
“Questioning. The same way I was in Professor Albright’s death.”
“They think you had something to do with Gary’s murder?”
“ ’ Fraid so. Come on.” She grabbed his leash from a hook beside the door. “We’ll go downstairs and wait for Sam.”
Rudy stiffened his legs, refusing to move. “Whoa, Nellie. Why do we have to bring that Bozo along?”
“He drove me home.”
“Okay, now you’re home. Say adios, arrivederci, aloha, buh-bye, boobie. Slam the door and click the lock behind him.”
“It’s not that easy,” Ellie answered, leading him down the stairs. “The policeman standing guard at the scene told Gruning I received an envelope from Pops, and he demanded to search my bag a second time. I said no, and they hauled me in. Later, in the precinct, Sam took a look at what was inside the envelope, tucked it away, and convinced Gruning to let me come home tonight and go back in the morning for a bag check.”
They made it to street level and walked toward the corner. “I don’t know where he went just now, but he’s coming back.”
“Isn’t that special?”
“Sam still has the envelope, you dope. We have to let him inside so we can take a look at whatever it is Gary left us before Gruning jumps to conclusions.”
“I guess it’s better than nothing.”
She gazed up the street and spotted the detective heading in their direction. “He’s almost here, so be nice.” She took note of the gym bag slung over Sam’s shoulder when he neared. “What’s in there?”
Rudy dragged her across the street, purposely, she thought, to be a pain.
“This?” Sam kept pace beside them. “A change of clothes I keep in the car. Never can tell when I might have to pull an all-nighter.”
“Where are you headed after this? A stakeout?”
“You might say that.”
They walked to a group of trash cans, which Rudy watered, and returned to the brownstone. “I’ll take my keys now, and that envelope,” she said, climbing the front stairs. “I promise to be at the station by eight.”
He followed her up the steps, unlocked the outer door, and kept on going. Ellie caught him on the second floor landing. “I said I’d take it from here. Hand over my stuff and go home.”
On the third floor, he pushed open her apartment door and strode inside before she said another word. Ellie removed Rudy’s leash, then raced into the kitchen and found Sam at the sink, drinking a glass of water. “This game’s gone on long enough. Give me my keys and the envelope, please.”
Swiveling in place, he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the envelope. “You realize that when I took this, I put my badge on the line?”
“I know, and I’m grateful.” She sat at the table unsure of where this would lead. Was there something against the law in that envelope? Something that might send her to jail? “Can I look now?”
He took a seat and passed it over.
She raised the flap and pulled out a sheet of paper and a small silver key. She had to scan the note twice before she understood exactly what she held. “This is a will.”
“I know it’s a will. Read it again. Carefully.”
A minute later, she shook her head. “This can’t be real. It says the key belongs to a safety-deposit box at a bank somewhere near Rockefeller Center.”
“Looks like, and the will is notarized and signed, so my best guess is it’s genuine.”
“But it says Gary left everything he had to Rudy, and I’m the executor. That means my dog owns what was in his shelter.”
�
��Say what?” Rudy yipped from beneath the table.
“More importantly, your dog owns whatever is in the box that belongs to that key.”
“There’s a box? Where?” Rudy stood on his hind legs and scratched at her thigh. “What else does it say?”
Placing a hand on his head, she ruffled his ears. “Hang on a second.” She focused on Sam, who was grinning. “Rudy’s a very sympathetic canine. He’s reading my emotions.”
“It figures, but concentrate. Did Gary ever mention a will or say anything about a safety-deposit box when you spent time together?”
“Not that I remember.”
“Me neither.”
“And he never said he’d left you anything?”
“What could he leave me? He lived like a pauper, scavenged for food, clothes—everything.”
“Well, apparently he had something he thought valuable enough to protect. And whatever it is, it’s in that box.”
“This is ridiculous. We don’t want his junk.”
“Correction—I don’t want his junk.”
“You’re not the least bit curious?” Sam asked, raising a brow. “What if he found something in one of those Dumpsters, something valuable, and hid it for safekeeping?”
“Then I’ll give it to charity or—or—”
“Charity? No way. Not until I know what it is.”
Ellie frowned at Rudy, remembered Sam was watching, and said, “I can’t think about this now. I’m going to bed.” She stuffed the will and key back in the envelope and left it on the table. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
Sam hoisted his duffel, but instead of heading for the front door he ambled down the hall and turned into her guest bedroom. She stormed after him. “What the heck is wrong with you? Stop being a jerk and go home.”
“Sorry, no can do.” He tossed his bag on the double bed. “Gruning had one more requirement in order to let you leave the precinct. I have to babysit you until morning.”
Ellie swallowed a gulp of air. Her stomach heaved and her face heated. She stared at the floor, said a silent “Well, crap,” and put her hands on her hips. “If this is your idea of a joke—”
“No joke.” He sat on the bed and toed off his shoes. “I’m here for the night.”
“What a putz. How about I bite him?”
“I don’t have anything to hide. I won’t leave town.”
“I know that, but Gruning doesn’t.” He undid his tie and started unbuttoning his shirt. Standing, he pulled it out of his pants and reached for his belt. “I said I’d watch over you, and I mean to keep my word. Besides, I wouldn’t put it past him to have a patrolman watch the building, just to make sure I stayed here.”
Her insides tightened. Had Sam suggested this to Gruning, just to be irritating? “What are you doing?”
His smile sent a jolt straight to her gut. “Getting ready for bed. Are you planning to stay and tuck me in?”
“That isn’t funny.” She huffed out a breath. “I’m using the bathroom first, so don’t get any ideas.”
When he slipped off the shirt, their single night together swept into her brain like an X-rated movie, calling to mind the way she’d skimmed her fingers over his muscled shoulders, across his rock-hard chest, and other . . . important places.
He dropped his shirt on the bed and raked her with a gaze. “If you don’t want me to get any ideas, go to your room, because the longer you stand there, the more I remember, and all of it was good.”
Like a warning bell, her insides tingled, as if priming for another chance to ride him to climax. She sucked in a breath. “If it was so good, why didn’t you—”
“Clam up, Triple E. Clam up now!” Rudy yipped.
“Never mind. I’m outta here.” She flounced from the room, muttering while her dog trotted beside her. “Thanks for the sass, big boy. It kept me from making a total fool of myself . . . again.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
She undressed and slipped on a sleep shirt, then hurried through her nightly ritual in the bathroom. What the heck had happened tonight? It was bad enough she was in her ex-lover’s debt for saving her from a night in the slammer. Sam had also put his job on the line by knowingly withholding something the police would probably consider evidence.
Settling under the covers, she continued the single-sided conversation. How was she supposed to fall asleep with Sam in residence just a few feet away? And even if he weren’t spending the night, she still had Gary’s death and that stupid will to worry about.
“It’ll be okay, Ellie,” said Rudy, curling on the pillow next to her. “I’m here. I’ll watch over you.”
She rolled to her side and laid her hand on his head. Never in a million years did she think a dog would be her best friend, her confidant, the one thing in her life she could count on. “I know you will.”
“We don’t need that copper. We don’t need anyone.”
She closed her eyes and sighed. She loved Rudy more than anything, possibly more than Georgette or Vivian or Stanley. But he couldn’t give her children or make her toes tingle and her thighs shudder with longing. So far, Sam was the only person who’d been able to do that.
Which was sad, because Sam didn’t want her—not the way she wanted him.
Sam punched his pillow for the tenth or was it the eleventh time? He’d done a lot of dumb things in his life. Getting blind drunk at sixteen and falling asleep behind the bleachers at his high school; wrecking his father’s three-month-old car the day he’d turned eighteen; taking up smoking in college . . .
And those weren’t the worst of his sins. He’d married Carolanne at twenty-five, even though he had a pretty good idea they weren’t right for each other, and ruined both their lives, something his mother and his sisters had predicted well before they’d tied the knot.
But he’d learned from his mistakes. Other than an occasional beer or glass of wine, he rarely drank alcohol. He’d sharpened his driving skills and kept his car running like a marathoner, no matter that the outside needed cosmetic work. And he’d stopped smoking two years ago, difficult but necessary according to the documented health data.
As for Carolanne, the divorce had been good for both of them, even if it had taken him a while to realize the end of their marriage was more because of her cheating than his neglect. Which led to the tricky part.
He truly liked Ellie Engleman, enjoyed her sense of humor, her way of phrasing a question, her habit of calling him on whatever he said or did that didn’t meet with her approval. He admired her work ethic, her loyalty, her sense of fair play. And that was just the tip of the iceberg.
Because along with all her stellar qualities, she had a body that absolutely turned him on. They’d fitted together like the proverbial hand and glove, a lock and key, peas in a pod—hell, all the sappy stuff written in poetry books. Plain and simple, that single night with her had been the best sex of his life, before, during, and after marriage. So good, in fact, he couldn’t imagine doing the deed with anyone else.
And that really pissed him off.
Thanks to that lone night in Ellie’s bed, he’d probably never have sex again. His dick might as well rot and fall off from lack of use. And it probably would, if he didn’t erase her from his mind and find someone else to scratch the itch he got whenever he thought about her.
Unfortunately, he’d set himself smack in the middle of her problems, and he couldn’t desert her now. He’d already gone to bat for her with Gruning and put his job on the line by withholding what he knew was evidence. But he would swear on his life she was innocent of murdering that homeless man, which meant he had a duty to protect her.
Footsteps sounded in the hall. He smiled at the idea of his fantasy wide awake and annoyed with him, just like he was up and annoyed with her. If he had a brain, he’d pull the pillow over his head, count to a thousand, and stay put.
Too bad his brain had taken a vacation the moment he’d heard she was in trouble.
He swung his legs
over the side of the bed and tugged on his jeans. Padding to the door, he stepped into the hall and followed the dim glow coming from the kitchen. Standing in the doorway, he propped himself against the frame and admired what he could see of her under a knee-length sleep shirt. Her curvy hip hitched to the side, and those damned touchable curls reflected the kitchen light while she put a cup in the microwave.
Darting out of sight, he rested his head against the wall, preparing a speech in case she caught him snooping. After a second, he heard her say, “Shh. Keep quiet or you’ll wake the dastardly detective.”
He peeked around the corner and spotted the dog staring up at her.
“Stop that. He means well. He can’t help it if he’s a jerk.” She tapped her fingers on the counter. “Most men are.”
Rudy put a paw on her calf.
“I know you’re not, but you’re not human, either. It’s different with male dogs . . . sort of.”
A couple of seconds passed before the microwave dinged and she removed the mug. “Not with me you don’t, but what about Lulu? I bet you’d be in that little Havanese’s pants as quick as lightning if you had balls.”
Sam about conked his head against the plaster. He knew she had a habit of making comments to her dog, but he’d swear that right now, she was holding a full-blown conversation.
“Don’t blame me for your lack of testicles. I wasn’t the one who had them removed. And neutering is the right thing to do with strays, male or female. The world doesn’t need any more unwanted dogs or cats.”
He stifled a laugh. It figured. Even in the dead of night, and with her own dog, she couldn’t climb down from her soapbox on the proper way to care for an animal.
A drawer opened and closed, then she said, “I’m fine. Go back to bed if you want.”
A moment later, he glanced down and his gaze collided with the gray-and-white hound’s. A low rumble sounded from deep in the animal’s throat. Sam stiffened and raised a finger to his lips, as if the mutt understood. Damn if the dog didn’t grin at him before it growled again in a more threatening tone.
“What’s your problem?” Ellie called in an exaggerated whisper.
He debated: stay and get bit or walk away like a coward.
