by Judi McCoy
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Teaser chapter
Also in the Dog Walker Mystery Series
Praise for the Dog Walker Mystery Series
Begging for Trouble
“McCoy is as adept at creating colorful, compelling characters, two-legged and four-legged, and writing sharply humorous prose as she is at crafting a cleverly constructed plot.”
—Booklist
“Charming and funny.”
—New York Times bestselling author
MaryJanice Davidson
Death in Show
“Author Judi McCoy has once again gone to the dogs, in a very good way! Not only does she present an intriguing mystery with lots of action and a healthy dose of romance; McCoy also gives a very accurate and realistic accounting of the competitive world of dog shows. Dog fanciers and mystery lovers will adore this new addition to McCoy’s canine tales.”
—Fresh Fiction
“A hilarious, fun-filled story full of eclectic characters and bits of romance. . . . This venue will keep you in stitches as you can picture in your head the different voices dogs would use to communicate. . . . If you are a pet lover, this is a must read.”
—The Romance Readers Connection
“McCoy deserves a blue ribbon herself for coming up with such an entertaining paranormal-spiced mystery and then perfectly seasoning the plot with just the right dash of romance.”
—Booklist
“There is nobody quite like professional dog walker Ellie Engleman as she talks to her canines and hears what her four-legged friends have to say. . . . Readers will enjoy the latest escapades of the heroine . . . while her dog, Rudy, and her canine clients add amusing antics to the mix.”
—Midwest Book Review
“Ellie is wonderful [and] insightful, and her special way of communicating with her charges makes the reader laugh out loud.”
—Romantic Times
Heir of the Dog
“What a clever, clever series. Rudy is a small dog with a big attitude. . . . Judi McCoy has done an excellent job with her narrative and the story threads, sewing everything together nicely.”
—Fresh Fiction
“The second book in former romance writer McCoy’s captivating mystery series is a wickedly entertaining mix of terrific characters, an intriguing plot, sexy romance, and a touch of the paranormal.”
—Booklist
“Humorous and suspenseful . . . a lighthearted yet intriguing cozy mystery.”
—Romance Junkies
“McCoy brings back professional dog walker Ellie Engleman and her reincarnated pooch with a witty and fast-paced mystery set on New York’s fashionable East Side. McCoy has a simmering plan of vengeance, peppered with humor, that readers will love.”
—Romantic Times
Hounding the Pavement
“McCoy fills this delightful story with humor, quirky characters, and delicious hints of romance.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“The crisp writing, humorous dialogue, and delightful characters, both human and canine, all make this book a winner.”
—Romantic Times
“Judi McCoy writes with heart and humor. Anyone who loves dogs or books will have a howling good time.”
—Lois Greiman
“A delightful dog’s-eye-view romp through the streets of New York. If you’ve ever talked to your dog and wished that he would answer back, this is the book for you. Four paws up!”
—Laurien Berenson, author of
Doggie Day Care Murder
“Engaging characters and a cute premise kick off this delightful series. This canine caper will have you begging for more!”
—Nancy J. Cohen, author of the
Bad Hair Day mystery series
“Hounding the Pavement, the first book in the Dog Walker Mystery series, is a treat for everyone, whether a dog lover or not. . . . Ms. McCoy has written a cozy mystery sure to please.”
—Fresh Fiction
Also in the Dog Walker Mystery Series
Begging for Trouble
Death in Show
Heir of the Dog
Hounding the Pavement
OBSIDIAN
Published by New American Library, a division of
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First published by Obsidian, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
First Printing, August 2011
ISBN : 978-1-101-51755-0
Copyright © Judi McCoy, 2011
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This book is dedicated to Barbara Noyes, a brave and brilliant woman and an exceptional writer. Thank you, Barb, for all the “Spanglish” translations, especially because you made certain the Mexican influence was correct. You are my rock.
To the real Arlene Millman, who earned the first character part in one of my books because she showed proof of her sizable donation to Best Friends. She also contributed Ellie’s astrological
chart, which I edited slightly for the epilogue of this story. Arlene doesn’t own an African gray, but she does have three adorable Boston Terriers named Corey, Isabelle, and Darby-Doll.
To Best Friends, the largest no-kill shelter in the U.S. The work they do to save God’s creatures is mindboggling. If you haven’t yet seen Dogtown, their show on the National Geographic Channel, find it and watch it. You will be amazed.
Chapter 1
“The man in the next lane just flipped you off.” Ellie clenched the car’s safety strap in her right hand and clutched the seat belt in her left. “I think you’re crowding him.”
It was the middle of July, and she and her best friend, Vivian, were on their way to Viv’s sister’s wedding in the Hamptons. They’d spent the morning at an upscale car rental company, where Viv had demanded a vehicle that screamed “expensive, fast, and flashy,” whether or not she knew how to drive it.
“Yeah, well, he can chill. I’m doing the best I can.” It was the same response she’d given after Ellie’s last three warnings, and though she’d spent the past half hour trying to tame the six-speed BMW M6, Viv’s driving skills hadn’t improved one iota.
“I still say we should have rented our transportation through Zipcar. Their cars are small and they get good gas mileage. We could have gotten a decent sedan for a tenth of what you’re paying for this behemoth.”
“Are you crazy?” Viv hit the horn and veered around a stopped bus. “I’d be humiliated if I showed up at my sister’s house in the Hamptons and my family saw me with one of those dinky budget rentals.”
“We could have taken a helicopter or limo. Navigating this hellacious traffic is like trying to wade through quicksand,” Ellie told her as they jerked up to a traffic light.
Since Viv had gotten them out of the parking garage of Royal Luxury Automobile Rentals and onto Fortieth, going east, the bright red BMW had crawled along like a turtle with the hiccups, crowding the far right lane and terrorizing automobiles and pedestrians alike.
“A helicopter is just too Billy Joel,” Viv answered, peering over the dashboard. “And taking a limo means we’d be at the mercy of the Hamptons’ Jitney.”
“Couldn’t we borrow one of your sister’s cars? An automatic, maybe?”
“I want the McCreadys to know I have a successful career, and this baby is the way to show them.” She shifted into first, ground into second, and followed the signs for the Queens Midtown Tunnel. “Besides, I took all the insurance coverage the company offered. We won’t be liable for a penny if we have an accident . . . or something.”
“But you’ve never driven a manual transmission before, let alone a six-speed,” Ellie said for the tenth time that morning. “Please be more careful.”
Viv’s driving expertise seemed to dry up once she jammed the car into third gear. After that, she’d screech to a stop and slam on the brakes and the clutch to avoid the ass end of a bus. Then she’d start all over again, grinding from first to second to third, braking to a stop, and receiving dirty looks from everyone on the street.
And forget about double-parked delivery vans or the valiant bicycle messengers. The side-view mirror on Ellie’s door had already whacked the mirror on a stretch limo and a cab, and they’d gotten so close to a bike rider, Ellie swore she’d seen his molars when he yelled out a threat.
“Watch out! That taxi’s stopping for a pickup,” she shouted, her voice hoarse from the warnings. If only Viv had taken her suggestion and rented a small and sensible automatic, they might actually arrive in the Hamptons in one piece. “And please depress the clutch before you hit the brake.”
“Leave my girl alone and let her do her thing,” warned Mr. T from the backseat. “She just needs a little practice.”
Vivian needs a “little” lobotomy, thought Ellie, holding her tongue. Their dogs, as well as all the canines belonging to the guests invited to the wedding, had been encouraged to attend. And since her boyfriend, Dr. Dave, had to speak at a conference in San Diego, Viv had named Ellie her “plus one” and given her the opportunity to take her first real vacation in ten years.
“Okay. There’s the sign pointing to the tunnel entrance. Just a few more blocks,” Viv announced, shifting the BMW into jackrabbit mode. “The rental agent said this car was forgiving.” She hit the gas and eased ahead. “I guess we’re putting it to the test.”
Ellie had paid close attention to the five-minute clutch-shift-accelerate lesson they’d been given in the parking garage, but the high-powered BMW still scared the pants off her. She silently thanked the powersthat-be that they were almost out of Manhattan, where it was a direct shot to the farthest eastern city on Long Island.
After that, the drive would be a piece of cake.
“How about a quick stop on a nice grassy patch of lawn, Triple E?” asked Rudy from the backseat.
“Yeah. My back teeth are floatin’,” Mr. T joined in.
“I think we should take a break once we get to a rest stop,” said Ellie. They were due in Montauk for a six p.m. prewedding dinner celebration, and it was just after noon. “The boys probably need an out, and I’m starving.”
“Fine. We forgot water, so we can pick up a couple of bottles,” was Viv’s answer. “We should be through the worst of this traffic soon.”
Ellie blew out a breath as they drove into the tunnel and followed the lead car at a respectful distance. She didn’t mean to rain on her friend’s parade. Viv had received a promotion and a healthy raise a few months back, and she was determined to impress her difficult family. According to Viv, her parents, especially her father, were snobs, and her middle sister was a spoiled brat. If that wasn’t enough, she claimed the bride, the oldest of the three sisters, was an astrologer and a bit on the oddball side, sort of a younger version of Shirley MacLaine.
Viv had no idea how many guests were scheduled to attend the event, but she’d assured Ellie it would be, if not a blast, a very interesting week.
Several hours later, Ellie was still enthralled with the scenery as they traveled Route 27 east to Montauk. The traffic had been worse than Manhattan at rush hour, so they’d stopped in a half dozen small towns for short breaks. Each city had a water view and quaint shops and eateries, as well as a soupçon more of an elitist attitude than she found on the Upper East Side.
Now, on the final leg of their journey, they veered onto Old Montauk Highway and began reading house numbers, but she found it difficult to stay focused on mailboxes when the homes, more like mini-mansions, took her breath away.
When Viv downshifted and turned into a secluded driveway, Ellie gasped as she gazed at the enormous two-story weathered cedar-shingle building that sat on at least two acres of rolling lawn. Besides the circular drive holding two hardtop Mercedeses, a Mercedes convertible, a Jaguar, and a Rolls-Royce, there was still a four-car attached garage on the right and a two-story wing on the left. Beyond the house, and closer to the ocean, looked to be the charming double-decker guest cottage Viv had mentioned, with its own parking area filled with more cars.
“Wow,” Ellie muttered as they jerked to a stop. “This is some summer house.”
“It is when you compare it to the house next door. That one belonged to Bernie Madoff until it was seized by the government to help reimburse his bamboozled customers. My sister’s house is comfortable inside, and a tiny bit offbeat, just like Arlene. It was already spectacular when she moved here with Myron, but she added a few touches to make it her own. Myron was a nice old guy, a lot like Judge Stanley, only way more wealthy.”
Ellie swallowed hard. More wealthy than her stepfather? It boggled the mind. “How many times did you meet Myron?”
“Two, maybe three times. The last was about five years ago, when Mom and Dad held a New Year’s party, and his funeral, of course.” She gave a huge sigh. “God, I’m glad we’re here. I’ll need a day to recuperate before I get behind the wheel again.”
“Me, too,” Rudy yipped from the backseat. “Can we take a helicopter home?”
/>
“That goes ditto for me,” said Mr. T. “I love Vivie, but I’ve changed my opinion of her drivin’. I’d rather be a thousand feet in the air with a pilot than in anything she’s steering.”
Ellie knew how the boys felt. Happy to be back on solid ground, she climbed out of the car and opened the back door to retrieve the dogs.
“Oh, Vivian! I can’t believe you’re here.”
She turned at the sound of a cheerful voice and saw a short woman with a sleek black bob running down the front porch steps. Arlene wore a huge grin as she raced to the car on stilettoed sandals, her bright red halter dress flying in the breeze.
“Vivie! It’s been too long,” Arlene cried, hugging her baby sister. After a set of air kisses, she gave Viv another hug. “I’m thrilled you’re here for the celebration.” Spinning in place, she continued to grin. “And you must be Ellie, Vivie’s plus one, and her dearest friend.” They shook hands. “I hear you’re a dog person, too, so we’re going to get along great.”
“I hope so. It’s nice to—”
“Ooh, look at these doll babies.” Arlene stooped and grabbed Mr. T’s muzzle. “Hello, Twink. Do you remember me? I’m your auntie Arlene.”
