Heir of the Dog

by Judi McCoy

  “Four of the dogs in this building get two walks a day,” she said tersely. “Any other questions?”

  “Only one. Can I come along?”

  “What’s wrong? Is the murder business slow today?”

  “I’m off duty. I thought we should talk.”

  Ignoring him, she unlocked an apartment and smiled at the snow-white dog sitting in the doorway with a leash hanging from its fuzzy muzzle. “Hey, Sweetie Pie. Sorry I’m a couple of minutes late. Rudy and I had a busy afternoon.”

  The pooch gazed at Sam, then back to Ellie.

  “Not at all,” she said as she dropped to a squat and clipped the lead to the dog’s collar. “If I’m lucky, he’ll say what he has to say and leave.”

  Sam refrained from tossing out a smart-ass comment. He still had a hard time understanding the one-sided conversations she held with her charges. “I thought I’d take you to dinner.”

  Without answering, she locked the door and headed for the elevator. Irritated by her silent treatment, he kept after her, following the canine cluster from floor to floor. He had no idea why he’d blurted the invitation to dinner, but now that he had he was looking forward to the experience. She’d say yes, if he got the words right.

  “About dinner. You can pick the spot. I’ll eat most anything.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Really? I’d be starving if I got as much exercise as you. How many dogs have you got on your client list?”

  “Not counting Viv’s Jack Russell and Rudy, about thirty.”

  He gave a low whistle. “Sounds like your business has really taken off.”

  “It’s a living,” she commented.

  Outside, they crossed Fifth Avenue and walked north along the edge of Central Park for three blocks. Sam made small talk while she did her job, though she only gave him one-word answers. Then they retraced their steps to the Davenport.

  “So, you done for the day?” he asked when they entered the lobby.

  “Hey, Kronk,” she said in reply, heading for the elevator.

  Sam stuffed his hands in his pockets and decided to wait. She had to come down eventually. After a moment, he locked gazes with the leering doorman.

  “She is one fine woo-man, no?” the guy asked.

  “Keep your eyes in your head, pal.”

  The doorman shrugged and disappeared in the room behind the counter while Sam nodded to incoming tenants, tapped his toes, paced the lobby, heaved impatient sighs—anything to pass the time. When the elevator door opened for the tenth time, he was relieved to see his dinner date. “What took you so long?”

  “I have to write notes when I bring the dogs to their apartments.” She aimed for the door.

  He stayed at her side as she turned left. Since she wasn’t heading home, he figured she had more dogs to walk. “Notes. Like a letter?”

  “Notes as in what the dog did on its walk.” She crossed Seventieth and kept going.

  “You mean the owners want to know what they did? Like—”

  “Exactly like,” she answered. “If you want to talk, keep up. I have two more buildings.”

  She slowed her pace, and he smiled at the friendly gesture. Though he still hadn’t received an answer to his dinner invitation, he figured there was a chance she’d say yes.

  “About dinner—”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that a ‘yes’ as in ‘what?’ or a ‘yes’ as in ‘yes, I’ll share a meal with you’?”

  “Yes, I’ll share a meal with you, but I can’t be out late. I’m supposed to meet Viv for a walk to Carl Schurz.”

  His gut clenched, and he caught her arm. “Do you say things like that on purpose, just to drive me crazy?”

  Ellie shook off his hand. “I don’t have to do a thing to drive you crazy. It appears you’re capable of getting there all by yourself.”

  He speared his fingers through his hair. “I told you that place is dangerous. I don’t want you going there without me—day or night.”

  “Viv and I take the walk several times a week, and we’ve never had a problem.”

  “There’s always a first time,” he lectured. “And the first time might be your last.”

  They entered the next building, which didn’t have a doorman, and walked to the elevator. Her failure to speak told him he’d offended her again, so he strove for middle ground. “How about if I go with the two of you tonight?”

  “Viv and I are fine together.” They got out on the third floor. “I’ll keep my Mace handy, as you suggested. I’m sure we’ll be safe.”

  The argumentative conversation wasn’t doing either of them any good, so he decided to dole out more advice when they got to the restaurant. He’d done something she needed to be eased into, something he was prepared to defend, though she’d probably cry foul as soon as he gave her the news.

  After walking five more dogs and bringing them home, they arrived at what Sam assumed was her final building. It was close to six, and he was hungry, tired, and running out of patience. When they stopped at the first door, a middle-aged woman carrying a tiny white dog and dressed for a fashion show answered the knock.

  “Hey, Hilary. Good news. You passed the bonding agency’s check with flying colors.” Ellie took the pup from her arms and set it on the floor. “The insurance company should get back to me in a day or so, too.”

  “That’s a relief,” the woman responded. Then she caught Sam’s eye, looked him over from head to toe, and smiled. “Something tells me this gentleman isn’t training to be a dog walker.”

  “Sorry. Detective Sam Ryder, this is Hilary Blankenship. Hilary is my first assistant.”

  “Detective?” The woman locked her door and took the dog’s lead. “Is this an official visit?”

  Ellie steered Ms. Blankenship ahead as she answered. “Sam was the detective on Professor Albright’s case. He’s tagging along because he has nothing better to do with his time.”

  The woman glanced at him over her shoulder, and her expression told him she didn’t believe a word Ellie said. Hanging back, he stayed mute while they collected two more canines and rode the elevator to the lobby.

  “Have you heard any more from your attorney?” Ellie asked her assistant as they exited the building.

  “No, thank God. For a while, I thought I was being stalked, but I guess Richard finding out about this job was just a fluke or something.”

  “Maybe,” Ellie agreed. “Just remember, you’re on your own starting Monday. Think you can handle it?”

  They crossed Fifth Avenue and Sam decided to give the ladies some privacy. It sounded as if Ellie was branching out, building her business and getting help, and he approved. He was beat just following her on her second shorter round of walks. He couldn’t imagine putting on the miles she trekked every day.

  When she and Hilary turned north, he sat on a bench and scanned the street. Aside from a couple of homeless people, food and gizmo vendors, and the usual contingent of tourists milling in front of the Guggenheim, no one caught his eye. But that didn’t mean Thompson Veridot wasn’t out there, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

  Crossing his legs, he counted the minutes while Ellie and her assistant did their thing, strolled back to the complex, and disappeared inside. Moments later, Ellie walked out of the building, spotted him on the bench, and waited for the light to change. Standing on the curb, she was approached by an older man with a stocky build and a full head of gray hair.

  Jumping to his feet, Sam jogged in their direction. Veridot was older, on the heavy side, and gray-haired, too. Hair color could be changed, and there were plenty of men in their late fifties in this town, but it seemed too much of a coincidence that one would stop to chat with Ellie while she was without an escort or her pint-sized guard dog.

  Dodging traffic, he darted across the intersection and skidded to a stop. “Hold it right there, bud.” He placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Let’s see some ID.”

  “What are you doing?” Elli
e demanded.

  “Keeping you safe.” His gaze locked on the man. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out his shield. “I asked if you had identification.”

  “Uh—um—uh—” The man fumbled in his pockets and withdrew a threadbare wallet. “I haven’t done anything illegal, honest.”

  “Milton Fenwick,” Sam continued, perusing the ID. “Says here you live on One-hundred-tenth. A little far from home, aren’t you?”

  “Sam—”

  “I’m retired. I take long walks.”

  “Sam, this man—”

  “Is that right?”

  Trembling, Milton nodded.

  “What’s your business with this woman?”

  “I wanted—I thought she still might be looking for help.”

  “Help?”

  “As a dog walker, you dope,” Ellie said, hands on her hips. “Mr. Fenwick picked up one of my advertisements on a college bulletin board.” She snatched the wallet from his hands and passed it to Milton. “Here you go. And I’m sorry you were accosted by Detective Demento here. I have your card. I’ll call you if I need more help.”

  Milton didn’t say a word, just stuffed the wallet in his pocket and scuttled off like a drunken crab.

  Sam didn’t have to make eye contact with Ellie to know she was angry. The heat of her fury radiated waves. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and pasted a smile on his face. “So, you ready for that dinner?”

  Folding her arms under her breasts, she stared. “You belong in a padded room—or a cave. I’m not sure which.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, and she held up a hand. “Wait, I’ve got it. A cage in a zoo, where all the other crazed baboons live.”

  She stalked south, and he followed her. When they stopped at a crosswalk, he tried to take her elbow, but she shrugged him off. The light changed, and he kept after her. They were eating dinner whether she liked it or not. And if she didn’t want to talk during the meal, fine. He’d spend the night staring at her across a table, but at least they’d be together.

  They passed Sixty-sixth, got to Sixty-first, and turned left. Where the hell was she going? A few minutes later, they hit Lexington, and she took another left. Then she ducked into a Joe to Go and shot straight for the counter.

  Chapter 14

  Ellie made a beeline for Joe Cantiglia, behind the counter on register duty. Talking to her college buddy always lightened her spirits, and right now she needed a good laugh. Otherwise, she might finally commit that murder the police kept trying to pin on her.

  “Hey, Ellie.” Joe’s grin flattened when he gazed over her shoulder. “What can I get for you?”

  “The usual, but make it a decaf.”

  “One large decaf caramel bliss, on the double, Gina,” he said to his barista. “And for your friend?”

  “Friend?” She passed Joe her frequent buyer card. “What friend?”

  Joe’s smile returned full force.“Sorry, I thought the guy standing behind you was . . . um . . . your companion.”

  “The guy standing behind me is a pervert,” she responded. “How about calling the police and reporting him for me?”

  “My pleasure.” He returned her punch card and reached for the phone.

  Sam slapped his shield on the counter. “Back off, buddy. I am the cops.”

  Shaking his head, Joe gave her a look of chastisement. “Aw, Ellie, don’t tell me you forgot to scoop Rudy’s poop again. I hear the city’s cracking down on pet owners who break the law with a seventy-five-dollar fine. The nice policeman’s probably following you to make sure you comply.”

  Ellie hid a grin. The put-down was exactly what Ryder deserved for terrifying poor Mr. Fenwick. Thanks to Joe, she imagined Sam was ready to explode.

  “I’m a detective, coffee boy, not a beat cop. I’m also Ms. Engleman’s escort. She’s just too stubborn to admit it.”

  “Nah! My Ellie’s a smart girl,” Joe taunted. “Hey, you wanna hang around and wait for me to close up?” he asked, looking directly at her. “I’ll even spring for dinner. It’ll be just you and me, babe.”

  “That would be—”

  “Very stupid,” Sam said in a threatening tone. “Like I already told you, the lady’s with me, and we’re having dinner together . . . alone.”

  “Hey, what’s a threesome between friends? Ellie and I go all the way back to college.” Joe’s handsome face again wore a naughty grin. “I hear the Wickery special tonight is charbroiled rib eye, one of her favorites. I’m sure she’d love to have me along for company.”

  “But I wouldn’t.” Standing tall, Sam edged closer to Ellie. “Just pour me a regular coffee of the day, and hurry it up.”

  Joe gave a mock salute and turned to fill the order. The barista squirted thick caramel sauce over the frothy cap of white on Ellie’s drink and set it in front of her. Joe handed the detective his black coffee, but before Ellie could pull out her money, Sam smacked a ten-dollar bill on the counter.

  “Keep the change.” He grabbed his coffee in one hand, her elbow in the other, and led her to a table. Pulling out a chair with his toe, he nodded. “Sit down and act like a big girl, or I’ll be forced to take proper disciplinary action.”

  She glared at him over the top of her steaming drink. “After the idiotic macho displays you keep pulling, you have some nerve insinuating I’m a child. What are you going to do—make me stand in the corner?”

  “I was thinking more of a spanking,” he said, his eyes as dark as his drink. “At home. In your bedroom.”

  Heat raced from her chest to her cheeks. He’d had his hands on her butt before, and his lips, and she’d enjoyed every smoldering kiss and sensual caress, but she’d been naïve and foolish four months ago. Hell would freeze over before she fell into bed with him a second time. “What are you? Some kind of modern-day Neanderthal?”

  Glowering, he took a swallow of coffee. “Look, let’s call a truce. I’m no caveman, and I don’t like to argue—”

  “Then leave me alone. I can go to dinner with Joe, and he’ll make sure I get home safe and sound. If I ask, he’ll even go with Viv and me to Carl Schurz.”

  “I have a better idea. I’ll take you to dinner, I’ll walk you and your friend to the park, and I’ll see to it you get home in one piece. End of discussion.”

  “You just can’t give it a rest, can you?” She sipped the coffee, hoping the sweet caramel inching into her middle would calm her temper. “Okay, we’ll do dinner, and you can walk us to the park. Vivian will appreciate it, especially since she wigged out at Gary’s shelter the other night.”

  “What? Why was she there?”

  “Because I didn’t want to go alone. It wouldn’t have been safe, remember?”

  “Yeah, but what happened to upset her?”

  “She kept hearing . . . things.”

  His expression grew concerned. “What kind of ‘things’?”

  “I don’t know. Animals, maybe. Once I heard the rustling, we left in a big hurry.” She took another swallow of coffee before confessing. “Nothing’s ever happened at either location.”

  “You’ve never seen anyone suspicious at either park?”

  “Not a soul.” She set her cup on the table. “And I haven’t noticed anything else out of the ordinary wherever I’ve walked since Gary’s murder.”

  “Have you been approached by any strange men?”

  “Only you.”

  He raised his eyes to the ceiling, his expression pained. “You know what I mean. Men you’ve never met before stopping to say hello or asking you about the dog walking business. Guys like Fenwick.”

  She recalled the older man who’d spoken to her at the crosswalk and the man she and Viv had met at Carl Schurz last week. “There was a guy who started to chat with me at a crosswalk, but I lost him. And a man at Carl Schurz spoke to Viv and me, but both conversations were about dogs. Dog lovers enjoy shooting the breeze about canines. And I did get that spooky call regarding my assistant’s ad, which will also give me a shot at
meeting strangers. Do you really believe Veridot would go to the trouble of getting a fake ID and pretending to want a job, just to cozy up to me?”

  “You’d be surprised at what a killer will do to get close to their target. When was the first time you met Fenwick?”

  “The day I posted the ads. He followed me, just to say that he’d seen me tacking the sheet up. Then he asked a couple of questions. I didn’t see him again until tonight.”

  “Sounds like too much of a coincidence, his being there just as you were slapping up the info.” Sam drained his coffee cup. “He’s a senior citizen. What was he doing on a college campus?”

  “I don’t remember what he said. Do you think he looks like Thompson Veridot?”

  “He fits the general description, but the faxed photo is dark and grainy, so it’s hard to tell. Hair color can be changed, and some men grow a mustache or beard as a natural disguise. Spotting Thompson without a clear and current photo will be difficult.”

  “Wouldn’t the tattoos be identification enough?”

  “If his upper arms are exposed, but Veridot is smart. He’ll keep his arms covered so you can’t identify him.”

  “Great. What am I supposed to do?”

  “I already told you, don’t go anywhere alone after dark, and don’t put yourself in a vulnerable position.” He drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “I have a confession to make. I did something you need to know about.”

  She arched a brow at his hesitant tone. “Let me guess. You hired a bodyguard for me.”

  “It’s an idea.” When she didn’t smile, he continued. “Remember that friend I mentioned—the one who teaches self-defense at his gym?” He cleared his throat. “I enrolled you in a course. Your first class is tomorrow afternoon at two.”

  “You did what?”

  “Don’t blow a gasket. I did it for my peace of mind. You’re scheduled to go three times a week for the next four weeks, and I already paid for the lessons. There are a couple of times to choose from, but I took the liberty of making the first appointment . . . just to get you started.”

  She opened and closed her mouth. “You paid—”

  “It’s no big deal. Phil’s a friend. He gave me a fifty percent discount.” He pulled a card from his pocket and pushed it across the table. “Here’s the gym address and phone number.”