by Judi McCoy
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
“Primo dog walker Ellie has more than a gift for talking to her four-legged charges. She’s also got a talent for getting caught up in her boyfriend’s murder investigations. McCoy puts her in the action with flair and an easy humor.”
—Romantic Times
“Charming and funny.”
—New York Times bestselling author
MaryJanice Davidson
Death in Show
“Ellie is wonderful, insightful, and her special way of communicating with her charges makes the reader laugh out loud.”
—Romantic Times
“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
Heir of the Dog
“McCoy brings back professional dog walker Ellie Engleman and her reincarnated pooch with a witty and fast-paced mystery set in New York’s fashionable Upper 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
“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
Till Death Do Us Bark
Begging for Trouble
Death in Show
Heir of the Dog
Hounding the Pavement
Fashion
Faux Paw
A DOG WALKER MYSTERY
JUDI MCCOY
AN OBSIDIAN MYSTERY
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, March 2012
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Copyright © Judi McCoy, 2012
All rights reserved
ISBN: 978-1-101-57691-5
OBSIDIAN and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
Printed in the United States of America
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
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So many people helped in the writing of my Dog Walker series, but this particular story, Fashion Faux Paw, was a tough one. A huge thank-you to my editor, Kerry Donovan, who did so much to help me get this book into shape.
To my agent, Helen Breitwieser, for always being on my side, especially during life-threatening moments. Thank you, Helen, for New York and for other things too numerous to mention.
For Karen Hood, hairstylist extraordinaire. Thanks so much for all your insights into the fashion world.
And I cannot forget the Miniature Schnauzer Rescue of Houston, run by Karen Coleman. They do a wonderful job with one of the most adorable of small breeds. If you’re interested in adopting one of these bright, energetic, and happy little guys, please contact Karen at [email protected].
Acknowledgments
Congratulations to the following, who each won a different organization’s raffle to be a character in my next Dog Walker mystery:
Cassandra McQuagge, National Greyhound Adoption Program, Virginia Beach Affiliate
Claire Smith, Hampton Roads Writers
Beatriz Alfonso, Miniature Schnauzer Rescue of Houston
Table of Contents
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
Chapter 1
Ellie Engleman hoisted her packed tote bag over her shoulder, kept Rudy’s leash in her left hand, and balanced a Caramel Bliss coffee in the other. Then she stepped
into one of the cavernous rooms that had been prepared to ready the participants for New York City’s most glamorous event. Fashion Week, a yearly celebration, was being held for the first time in the industry’s newly remodeled building near Penn Station.
She still couldn’t believe that she got to be on the sidelines. The winner of the grand finale competition of the show would capture a one-hundred-thousand-dollar prize and a two-year contract with Nola Morgan Design, known in the trade as NMD, a manufacturer of women’s high-end ready-to-wear. The line would be available in Bloomingdale’s, Bergdorf’s, Saks, and other upscale mall department stores around the country by the end of next year.
Ellie knew the competition was garnering a lot of attention in the fashion industry. Thirty-five hopefuls had submitted designs based on their idea of what a typical modern woman might wear while at work or out on the town. Four finalists were chosen to compete by the CFDA, the Council of Fashion Designers of America, and they and this contest were the culmination of Fashion Week.
She had first heard about it from Patti Fallgrave, one of her clients. As one of the models asked to strut the catwalk, Patti had an in with the committee, and she’d finagled a great job for her dog-walker friend once she learned canines were involved in one of the fashion shows. Ellie was now in charge of the models’ dogs, and would watch over them while their owners were fitted, accessorized, dressed, and had their hair and makeup done.
And for the final day, it was her responsibility to see to it that the dogs in her care were outfitted from head to tail in creations made by each designer to match their owners’ outfit. Whichever pair wowed the committee and Nola Morgan Design would win the prize.
As she entered the room, she scanned the mass of drinking straws with heads and noted that most of the women appeared to walk, talk, and act untouchable as they went about their business for opening day. Those who were the tallest had to be the models, especially since they were the ones who looked as if they hadn’t eaten in a decade.
And the rest? She’d bet her last dime that most of the hairstylists, makeup artists, designers, and runners participating in the show were on the same lettuce leaf and one cracker a day diet.
“Geez. Ya think anybody in this crowd knows how to swallow more than a single piece of kibble at a sitting?” Rudy asked.
She smiled down at him, her voice low. “We’ll talk about it later. For now, let’s just find our spot and stay out of trouble.”
“Hey, trouble is our middle name. We live for trouble. In fact, we’re trouble experts. We—”
She ignored his rambling and jerked on his lead for good measure. The security guard they’d passed on the way in had told her he had no idea where the canines were being kept, but she was welcome to find the area herself. From the amount of activity taking place in this room, she doubted anyone could help her locate the dog pens, which meant she and her boy had to check it out on their own.
After studying the mob of serious fashionistas, Ellie glanced at her work clothes. Her job for the next few days was all dog, so she’d dressed in preparation for poop stains, pee stains, food stains, puke stains, and anything else a furry, four-legged friend might have a paw in creating.
She wore a peach-colored sweater in a washable fabric, with no designer label, and Skechers Kinetix Response shoes, perfect for walking her usual ten-mile-per-day route. Her special touch for the event was her Calvin Klein Ultimate Skinny jeans, which she’d found on a half-price markdown rack. Her best friend, Viv, had insisted it was the least she should wear to work the world’s biggest fashion event, and she’d grudgingly agreed.
“’Scuse me,” a voice said as someone pushed past her with an overloaded clothing rack.
She darted out of the way and bumped into a girl carrying a stack of shoe boxes. The top box hit the ground and Ellie bent to pick it up. Repacking the four-inch, snakeskin Ferragamo heels, she took note of the size and gave herself a mental high five. The model who owned this shoe wore a ten, a full size larger than her. If she got really depressed about her size-twelve Calvins, she’d go barefoot and show off one of her best features: her shapely feet and their freshly pedicured toes.
She set the shoe box on top of the pile, and the person behind the cardboard mountain mumbled a thank-you and stumbled on through the crowd.
“Ellie! Hey, Ellie! I’m over here.”
Raising her head, she eventually spotted Patti Fallgrave waving at her from across the room. At six feet tall, the supermodel was easy to find in a normal crowd, but it wasn’t so simple locating her in this group of towering pencil figures.
Ellie edged through the bustling room, dodging worker-bees and half-naked women standing on podiums, waiting to be clothed. “I’m exhausted just watching all that’s going on,” she said when she reached her dog-walking client. “Is it always like this?”
Patti cradled Cheech—one of two Chihuahua brothers Ellie serviced—in her left arm and clasped Ellie’s elbow in her free hand. “This?” She laughed. “It’s nothing compared to showtime. Just get in sync with the vibes. And be careful of Rudy. Most of the people working this scene love animals, but they’re not used to having them underfoot. That’s why they hired you.”
They dodged another clothes trolley, sidled behind a group of mirrored tables and chairs where two models sat while hairstylists teased and sprayed, and stopped at an open area where a stretchy metal gate formed an eight-foot-diameter pen. “This is the best I could set up for you,” the supermodel said.
Sitting down on one of three chairs wedged between a water cooler and a long table filled with fruit, veggies, protein bars, and high-energy drinks, Patti pointed to a corner. “This is just one of several snack tables set up throughout the show. And around that corner is a patch of fake grass, where the dogs can do their business if there’s an emergency. After that is a door to the outside, so you can come and go with your charges as needed.”
Ellie took a seat and heaved a breath. Resting her tote bag on a knee, she peered at the shelf under the table, half-filled with more food and drinks. “And I guess I can store my stuff down there?”
“Absolutely. In fact, you should probably keep an eye on all of it, because there’s no security guard at this end. I’d make sure my cash and credit cards were tucked in my pocket instead of in the bag, in case someone stopped by and started digging. If you ask, they’ll tell you they’re looking through their bag, but it could be yours.”
Ellie shook her head. “They can look in my bag all they want, but the only thing they’ll find is canine gear. I brought gourmet biscuits, extra leashes, folding water bowls, a couple of old throws, and anything else I thought the dogs might need that their owners would forget.”
“Perfect. And guess what?” Patti raised an expertly arched brow. “I got you a runner. Kitty’s around here somewhere and she can’t wait to be your assistant.”
Ellie smothered a smile. She had an assistant named Kitty and they were herding a group of dogs? There had to be a joke in there somewhere.
“And the models and their babies?”
“They’ll be here soon. The designers are already on-site, of course, but they have yet to see the dogs in person. All they know is the breed.”
“Do you have that list I asked for? With the names of the designers, and the models and their dogs?”
Patti pulled a small spiral pad from her alligator bag and Ellie had to grin. It looked just like the kind her boyfriend, Sam, carried when he was on a case. In fact, it was exactly what she’d used in July, when she and Viv had run into a murder in the Hamptons.
“Here you go,” she said, passing her the tablet. “Janice wrote down the details. I hope it’s what you were looking for.”
“Your sister did a great job. It’s exactly what I wanted,” said Ellie, flipping through the pages. “So, what should I do now?”
Patti handed her Cheech, checked her watch, and tucked her own bag under the table. “Since there are usually three or four shows going on at th
e same time, most of the girls are modeling for other designers until it’s time for the NMD walk. For instance, I have a fitting for a Vena Cava evening gown; then I’m scheduled to show three outfits for another up-and-comer, so I have to run.”
Patti stood. “I guess your first job would be to keep my baby happy and wait for the mob to arrive. His travel bed is in my bag. Just get ready to meet some huge personalities while you wait for the models to drop off their dogs, and the designers to show up. If you’re into people-watching, this is the place to be.”
When she sauntered away with her shiny dark brown hair swinging down her slender back, there was no doubt in Ellie’s mind that her client was a supermodel. Patti commanded attention, even when she wore a tank top, faded jeans, and red leather ankle boots.
“Too bad a doll like Patti’s wastin’ her time on that hairball,” Rudy groused, giving the Chihuahua the fish eye. “I still say somebody should report him and his brother to INS.”
“Oh, stop.” Ellie kissed Cheech’s tiny nose, then placed him gently in the pen and dug his doggie bed out of Patti’s bag. “Cheech and Chong are not illegal immigrants. They’re bona fide residents of this country, and even if they weren’t, it’s none of your business.”
“I’m just sayin’—”
“Too much. Now let’s people-watch, like Patti suggested.”
“How about you let me sit up there with you? The less time I gotta spend down here with the hairless wonder, the better.”
She patted the chair next to her and trained her eyes on the passersby, while Rudy bolted into position and sat at attention. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw two famous faces. “Look, there’s Christian Siriano walking with Michael Kors.” She watched the men as they raced past, talking quietly. “Viv will die when I tell her who was here.”
