Heir of the Dog

by Judi McCoy

  Since they’d reconnected, he’d hinted that he deserved a second chance but . . .

  Too tired to guess Ryder’s motives, she thought about Vivian’s report. Had Stefan Burns told her pal the truth? Was there any way she could get the correct information without arousing suspicion?

  Who was the man in the laundry room?

  Chapter 20

  The next morning, Ellie woke and stretched, moaning when her muscles bunched in protest. Thank you, Sam, for insisting I take those horrific classes with Phil, she grumbled mentally. For now, she needed the ibuprofen in her bathroom medicine cabinet, but from the nagging cramps in her arms and legs she doubted she’d make it there before she fell in a heap on the hardwood floor.

  “I can wait a couple of minutes to go out,” Rudy offered.

  Glancing to her left, she found him stretching on the pillow while gazing at her through sympathetic brown eyes. “Thanks, big guy. It might take me a while to get moving.”

  He hopped off the bed and raced around to her side. “I don’t get it. Last week you had that ginormous bruise, and today you can barely move. What are they doing in that karate class? I thought their goal was teaching you to protect yourself, not turning you into a cripple.”

  “It’s not a karate—” She rose to a sitting position and grimaced, then swung her feet to the floor. “Oh, never mind. Let’s just say I’m not the most stellar of students and leave it at that.” Standing, she smiled when she realized the pain was bearable. “Give me a minute to get dressed and pop a couple of pills.”

  After collecting fresh underwear, black linen walking shorts, and a peach-colored skinny-strapped tee, she hobbled to the bathroom. Ten minutes later, pills swallowed, face washed, and minimal makeup applied, she felt almost human. Back in the bedroom, she grabbed her sneakers and her black cardigan and walked to the kitchen, where she found her fuzzy pal standing guard at the kibble cupboard.

  Working through the pain, she sat at the table, slid her feet into her sneakers, and bent to lace them up. “Since it’s our day to bring Natter and Randall their weekly drink, how about we walk to the nearest Joe to Go, then stop at Bread and Bones and splurge on a high-calorie breakfast for me and a gourmet goody for you?”

  Rudy’s doggie lips curved into a smile. “Best idea you’ve had all week, but how about we get an extra biscuit for Lulu?”

  She slipped on her sweater and headed for the foyer. “Hang on a second. If Miss Pickypants gets a special treat, it’s only fair we buy enough for the rest of the gang.”

  “Fair, schmair. I’m thinkin’ about my gal pal. If a fancy nibble will keep me on her good side—”

  “Nothing will happen.” She clipped the leash to his collar. “You’re fixed, and Lulu is being groomed for the next championship show at the Javits Convention Center. Mrs. Steinman would kill me if I let her baby mess around with another dog.”

  “I’m not ‘another dog.’ I’m the man.” He trotted beside her down the stairs. “Lulu told me so herself just last week.”

  “Oh, really? I wish I’d heard that conversation.”

  “It was the morning those bean eaters had Montezuma’s revenge. You were too busy scoopin’ poop to hear.”

  Ellie remembered that mega-disaster all too clearly. “The boys couldn’t help it. You heard what Jan said when I reported the incident; they got into the garbage and ate something that didn’t agree with them.”

  “Those illegals are too gross for words.”

  “Pay attention, because I’m not saying this again. Cheech and Chong were born here. They’re upright canine citizens, though they might be a tad . . . odd.”

  “They’re tools, I tell ya. Never mind too dopey to learn English—they don’t even speak.”

  Tsking at his comment, Ellie stopped and pushed a note under Viv’s door explaining that she had no time to walk Mr. T this morning and promising to be home so they could give the dogs their final walk outside together at nine o’clock that evening. After stopping at Bread and Bones, she had a list of things to do today, including a visit to Hilary’s building. The woman had been on duty alone for the past few days, so it was time to check on her progress. The special treats would be an excuse to drop into Hilary’s complex with Hilary none the wiser.

  After that, they’d hike to Columbia and the other colleges where they’d hung a flyer to check the post sites. Aside from Milton and that rude guy who wanted to meet at her apartment, there hadn’t been any interest in the assistant job. If someone had removed the notice or torn off the tabs, she’d tack up a new one and keep her fingers crossed.

  Then she needed to phone Mr. Blackman regarding the final resting place of Gary’s family. And somewhere in between, she planned to call Gruning and ask about Gary’s toxicology report. In her heart, she knew the results would be clean. Gary wasn’t a druggie, no matter what the detective thought, but it would make her day if she could nudge him with a pointed “I told you so” and score one for her dead pal at the same time.

  Walking rapidly toward the nearest Joe to Go, Ellie gazed at the sun blazing in a brilliant blue sky. At this rate, her sweater would be too warm by the time they reached the bakery. Between the wretched heat and Gary’s death, she needed a weekend off, even better a few days. If Hilary agreed to handle the workload, maybe she and Viv could bring the boys to the Hamptons or the Jersey Shore. Anywhere the air was cooler and the humidity lower.

  When they arrived at the coffee shop, she hooked Rudy’s lead under a table leg in the outdoor seating area and went in for Natter’s coffee, Randall’s tea, and her usual caramel bliss. With no sign of Joe, she paid for the order, carted the drinks outside, and released the Yorkiepoo’s leash. A few blocks later, she hit Bread and Bones and bought three dozen of their best biscuits in assorted flavors.

  Her stomach growled as she inspected the pastry case set aside for human customers. Unfortunately, everything she longed for was big and gooey, not something she could easily eat while balancing a tote bag, tray of drinks, and bag of dog treats. Settling for a sesame bagel with lox and a schmeer, she tossed Rudy a biscuit, stuffed her sweater in her bag, and added the canine goodies. Then, after making sure her best bud finished his nibble, she juggled it all and devoured breakfast while she walked to the Beaumont.

  “Morning, Natter,” she said, passing over his mocha java when they arrived. In the lobby, she set her drinks on the counter. “Mind if I leave this here while I collect the gang?”

  The doorman raised his coffee in salute. “Not a problem. It’ll be here when you’re through.”

  Riding to the penthouse, she and Rudy collected Cheech and Chong first. “Say good morning to the boys,” she encouraged when the Chihuahuas appeared in the foyer.

  “Hah! It’s a waste of time.”

  “Do it anyway, because I believe they understand every one of your nasty comments.” Ellie snapped leashes to each of the tiny dogs’ rhinestone-studded collars. “Doesn’t that make you want to apologize to them?”

  “Let me think about it . . . ah . . . nope.”

  He continued to mutter as she led them from the penthouse. A couple of floors down, they picked up Bruiser, the usually sullen Pomeranian, and Lulu, the champion Havanese and object of Rudy’s fantasies. Three floors down, they collected Satchmo, a mini dachshund with an enormous ego, and Harvey, a strange-looking beagle mix with a boisterous personality, and rode the elevator to the lobby.

  “If you’re good on your walk, you’ll all get a special treat when we bring you home,” Ellie told them as they hit the sidewalk and dodged the strolling pedestrians.

  “How special?” asked Lulu.

  “Special enough to cost ten times the price of a Milk-Bone,” Rudy said. “But you’re worth it, doll.”

  “Hey, hey, hey! We’re all worth it,” Satchmo shouted, lifting a leg on a stanchion.

  The Havanese raised her nose. “Humph. I doubt that. How many of you have won Best in Show at a major competition?”

  The dogs strained
at their leads, practically dragging Ellie across Fifth Avenue as they argued. So much for bribery. “Lulu, be nice. Not every owner wants a pure-bred with impeccable bloodlines, and some of those who do still don’t bring them to shows.”

  “That’s tellin’ her, babe.” Harvey shouted a high five.

  Once they entered the park, the canines called a truce and concentrated on the giver of all good smells: the rich moist earth of Central Park. As usual, Cheech and Chong pulled one way while the other canines headed in the opposite direction, stretching Ellie to the max. After a few minutes, she gathered the leads and retrieved cleanup bags. When finished collecting the waste, she called out over the group’s yappy chatter, “Okay, everybody back home . . . and no treats for the lot of you unless you calm down!”

  The pronouncement hit the unruly dogs like a bucket of ice water. Banding together, they grew orderly and kept in step, their paces identical and their tails high, a perfect example of the name of Ellie’s business—Paws in Motion. Grinning with pride, she realized her morning pain reliever had finally kicked in and she felt good enough to reward the mob for their overdue attempt at obedience.

  Arriving inside the Beaumont, she led the dogs home and gave each one a special biscuit. By the time she dropped the canines in their apartments and wrote her notes a half hour had passed. When she and Rudy got into the elevator to ride it down they met Eugene, handling his own group of much larger dogs.

  “Engleman,” he said, his face set in a scowl.

  “Eugene.” She ruffled Rudy’s ears when he growled.

  “You still thinkin’ about what I told you?”

  In truth, she’d had a lot more on her mind than Eugene’s ridiculous claim that Gary owed him money, and if she discussed it with him now, she’d be late for her next stop. When the elevator door took that moment to slide open, she charged into the lobby.

  “No time to talk. Catch me later.” Grabbing the drink carrier, she raced out the entrance while Rudy half-ran to keep up.

  Busy with a tenant, Randall merely smiled when Ellie strode into the Davenport and set his tea on the counter. Then she and Rudy retrieved their charges, led them into the morning heat, and crossed Fifth to get to the park. Once there, she gave them a heads-up on the gourmet treats, but she didn’t have to threaten. Sweetie Pie, Buckley, Stinker, and Jett had been the first of her doggie clients, and the newest, Bitsy, happily followed their lead. They finished the walk, were delivered home, and got their biscuits in record time.

  Her next building didn’t have a doorman, but Lily, Scooter, Fred, Barney, Pooh, and Tigger, all dogs with mixed pedigrees, were a pleasant group that rarely gave her trouble. With the promise of a special nibble, they behaved admirably, as well.

  Setting her sights on Hilary’s building a few blocks up, she and Rudy continued north. They would soon be in front of their intended high-rise, diagonally across from the Metropolitan Museum of Art. In the distance, a woman leading a group of tiny canines crossed Fifth at the light on Seventy-ninth, and Ellie thought it might be Hilary. Drawing near, she recognized her assistant holding a conversation with a tall man wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase.

  Staring at the man, Ellie at first thought it might be Richard, Hilary’s cheap bastard of a husband. But something about the way the guy stood, or maybe it was his hair, looked familiar . . . too familiar. And the closer she got, the more certain she became.

  She knew Hilary’s companion.

  They were a block short of their destination when the man flagged a taxi. She kept her eyes on the cab as it sped away, but the midmorning sunlight bouncing off the vehicle’s rear window prevented her from making a more positive ID.

  Raising her head, her gaze collided with Hilary’s. The woman still wore her hazmat mask and gloves, but she held a tissue to her eyes with one hand as she clutched her charges’ leashes in the other.

  “Hilary,” Ellie said when they met. “How are things going with the dogs?”

  “Did you see him?” Hilary answered, clenching the tissue in her fingers.

  “I saw you talking to someone.”

  Hilary heaved a sigh. “That was Richard’s attorney.”

  The past two weeks came flooding back to Ellie in a haze of disbelief. Kevin McGowan was Richard Blankenship’s attorney? If so, it was no wonder he hadn’t mentioned what kind of law he practiced. Telling her he handled divorces would have made her more careful when she talked about her wounded assistant. But she had to be certain it was Kevin before she lost her head and did something she’d be sorry for.

  “I didn’t catch his name.”

  “It’s Kevin McGowan. He and his father are involved in some of the biggest divorce disputes in Manhattan.” Hilary narrowed her eyes. “Do you know him?”

  Ellie figured she had two choices. Tell the truth and have Hilary quit her job or straight out lie. Both ideas went against her personal belief system, but doing the first would definitely erase any chance she had at a weekend getaway. And considering the upheaval in her life at the moment . . .

  “You could always tell her one of my lawyer jokes,” Rudy offered. “Better still, what would Vivie do in this situation?”

  Knowing her girlfriend was the queen of sneaky tactics, she decided to channel Viv. “I’ve lost count of the number of attorneys Stanley’s introduced me to since he and Georgette began dating.” A true statement—and evasive as hell.

  “Well, you’d remember this one,” her assistant said. “He’s very good-looking, and I’ve heard Kevin is quite a charmer with the ladies. But I’m his client’s adversary, so I have yet to hear a pleasant sentence spring from his sneering lips.”

  Charming. A perfect word to describe the dirty rat.

  “And you think he’s the one advising Richard on how to handle the settlement—I mean the negative stuff about you working for me and what you might do with your jewelry?”

  “Of course he is. He lives near here, so he probably saw me walking my charges and put things together.” Hilary heaved a sigh. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to bring the dogs home. I want to phone my lawyer and let him know what that despicable man just said.”

  Ellie stewed the entire time Hilary delivered the dogs home and wrote notes. But passing out the special biscuits didn’t assuage the guilt she felt about her relationship with the deceitful louse of a lawyer. So much for thinking Kevin liked her for who she was. Instead, he’d been using her to help screw a friend!

  Now at Hilary’s door, she realized she had no time to consider her involvement with Kevin. She had a ton of things to do today, and—

  “I’ll be all right after I make a few calls,” Hilary said, startling Ellie to attention. “Don’t worry about me.”

  “I am worried. After all, I gave you the job, which seems to have sent Richard off the deep end.”

  “Maybe so, but you’ve also listened to my complaints, sat through my tears, and most importantly, helped me with Cuddles.” Hilary picked the petite pooch off the floor and snuggled him to her chest. “I don’t know what I’d do without my darling. He’s even completely housebroken, thanks to you.”

  “I am, I am,” Cuddles interjected.

  “He’s a good boy.” Ellie scratched the toy poodle’s head as she gazed at her assistant. “Positive you’ll be okay?”

  “I have to be, don’t I?” Hilary answered, opening her apartment door. “After I speak to my attorney, I’ll call my sister. She’s been through three divorces already. I rely on her as my expert.”

  Maybe she could put Hilary in touch with Georgette and—

  “Don’t even think about it,” Rudy warned.

  Okay, so maybe introducing her to Georgette was a dumb idea. If her mother learned the name of Richard’s attorney, she’d blab to Hilary that he’d been at her apartment and met her daughter, and that would be the end of Ellie’s assistant. She’d have to think on it a while longer, later when she’d taken care of everything on her list. Still, if Hilary needed her—

 
“And don’t suggest we take her afternoon shift,” Rudy continued. “We got too much to do today.”

  “Hilary, I—”

  “Yes?”

  Rudy strained at his leash, tugging her toward the elevator. “No, no, no. We got places to go, people to see.”

  “Uh, nothing. Just let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

  All of the notices she’d hung on college bulletin boards had been taken down, so she added a “Please do not remove” to the bottom of each new sign. She ended her trek at the Columbia University bookstore. Then she sat on the steps of the Butler Library and phoned the funeral home. Mr. Blackman reported that, as of yet, he’d had no luck locating the Veridot family’s final resting place. Too tired to walk to Pops’s lunch cart, she and Rudy caught a cab to the Guggenheim, or as she now referred to it in her mind, “the scene of the crime,” and walked further south until she found Pops.

  After chatting with him for a few minutes, she brought lunch to a bench and took a seat. The last twenty-four hours had been incredible. She’d made a fool of herself at her self-defense class, Sam had invaded her space and her senses, Vivian had found out that the man in the laundry room had lied, and now she’d learned that Kevin McGowan, a man she thought was a contender for her affection, had been stringing her along just so he could gain the advantage on a case. Aside from running into Thompson Veridot, she couldn’t imagine things getting any worse.

  Her cell phone chose that moment to ring, and she heaved a sigh. “I suppose I need to take this,” she muttered. “Hello, it’s Ellie.”

  “Hi. I’m, like, a student at Columbia, and I saw your ad . . . about the dog walker,” the woman began.

  “Can I have your name?” Ellie asked, keeping her fingers crossed that this person was normal.

  “It’s Cindy. So, like, what would I have to do to, like, get the job?”