by Nancy Warren
The girl didn’t seem to find this a stupid, embarrassing name, merely typed it in. Then asked, “Are his shots up-to-date?”
“I doubt it. We just adopted him. He was a stray.”
“When he’s back on his feet, you and your wife will want to bring him in for a full physical, and we’ll update his shots.”
“Sure. Okay,” Vince said. Where a few days ago he’d been appalled at the addition of a second dog into his household, now he was happy that he was going to have the chance to come back for yearly physicals and shots.
And she’d called Sophie his wife, and he hadn’t said a word to correct her. In that moment, Vince realized that his life was never going to be the same.
He grinned like a fool.
“What is it?” Sophie asked, seeing him grin.
“They think Sir Galahad’s going to be okay.”
“Oh, Vince.” Tears filled her big blue eyes, and with Mimi tucked under one arm, she rose and threw the other arm around Vince’s neck, kissing him with warm, sweet lips that trembled.
“We can pick him up tomorrow.”
As Sophie and Mimi headed for the door, he turned back to the receptionist. “Tell the doctor I want to know what kind of poison the dog ingested. I’ll want copies of any lab reports and blood work.”
“I’ll tell her.”
“See if she can put a rush on it.”
The girl looked startled. “You think someone tried to kill your dog deliberately?”
He shook his head. “I think there was another intended victim.”
“Are you suggesting . . . ?”
“Put a rush on those reports. We’re talking attempted murder.”
Chapter 10
When they got back home, the place seemed half empty without the Doberman. Mimi wandered the apartment, her sharp little nails tapping out her distress on the hardwood.
“She misses him,” Sophie said, watching the little dog.
Vince understood. The two dogs had somehow become a matched pair, as unlikely as they seemed together.
A bit like Vince and Sophie. He had a feeling he’d be tracking paths through the hardwood himself if he lost Sophie. The notion had him walking up behind her and pulling her to him for a long, hungry kiss.
She emerged breathless and surprised by his passion— he’d surprised himself. How had she become important to him so fast?
“I made a mistake, Sophie. A stupid-ass obvious mistake.”
She blinked. “You did?”
He nodded, kissed her again quickly because he couldn’t help himself. “I don’t think you were ever in danger.” He crouched low and tapped his knee. Mimi stopped her aimless wandering and raced toward him, ears flying, pink nails sparkling. He scooped her up and held her to his chest where she showed her affection by licking his chin. “Mimi was the target. You and the Doberman got in the way.”
Sophie blinked, and gave him the same look his mother used to right before she’d put her hand on his forehead to test for fever. “Mimi?”
“Yeah. You know how I said I’d inherited her?”
“Of course.”
“Well, she was also a beneficiary of my aunt’s will. To the tune of fourteen million bucks.”
Sophie’s eyes widened, and she glanced at Mimi as though she couldn’t believe anything so little could be so rich. “Mimi inherited?”
“Yeah. I inherited Mimi, and I’ll get her money when she passes on. But there was one stipulation. If Mimi doesn’t die of old age, the money goes to my cousins instead. My aunt was probably trying to make sure I looked after her dog really, really well. What she didn’t think of was that my charming cousins might do the job. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it earlier. I was too busy thinking of you.”
“You have cousins who would murder a sweet little dog?”
“I wouldn’t have thought I did, but it’s the only explanation. Think about it. The Doberman didn’t eat anything but dog food until I threw him those cookies. They came with Mimi’s stuff, in that stupid tin. Right after he ate them he got sick—I bet the cookies were poisoned. And the vet said Mimi would have died if she’d eaten them instead. It was his size that saved Sir Galahad.”
Sophie looked stunned. “But… where did the biscuits come from?”
“They were packed with a bunch of Mimi’s stuff that came when she moved in here. Every time I tried to give her one, she turned up her nose, so I shoved them in the cupboard. Why would my aunt stock cookies the dog doesn’t like? Doesn’t make sense.”
Sophie rubbed the heel of her hand against her forehead. “So, you say your cousins planted a tin of poison biscuits and also tried to have the dog kidnapped and then shot? It seems a little . . . incroyable.”
“Yeah, I know.” He started to pace, Mimi bobbing along in his arms. “But think about it. The first day you were out, we thought you were being mugged because of her collar. Maybe it wasn’t the collar they were after, but the dog.”
“I suppose it’s possible,” she agreed, flopping to a chair and watching him.
“When you got shot at the next day, you were holding Mimi in your arms, weren’t you?”
Sophie’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure. Let me think.” She nodded. “Yes, yes, I was. She grew tired, poor little thing, so I carried her the last part of the way. But how do you …” She gasped and touched her arm. “Oh, I see.”
He nodded. “They shot at the dog while she was in your arms. And missed. If the dog had been walking, you’d have a scab on your ankle. Or Mimi would be dead.”
“How could anyone do such a thing?”
“They’re not the brightest pair.” He sat beside Sophie on the couch, and the dog curled in his lap. “You said you never saw the supposed mugger?”
“No. It was a man, and he had a woolen cap pulled low on his head. Sir Galahad took a chunk of his blue jeans, though. I saved it.”
“Good. I’m betting Jonathon and Esme are trying to do this themselves. They wouldn’t want to hire anyone to do their dirty work since that would make them vulnerable to blackmail. Which is lucky for us. Let’s face it, a pro would have done a better job.”
“I am lucky to have been wounded by an amateur,” Sophie said with some bitterness.
He grinned at her. “A pro wouldn’t have tried to shoot the dog while you were holding it. You’d have come out of this uninjured, but I doubt Mimi would still be with us.”
“Ah, well, then.” The lift of her shoulders was as French as her perfume.
“I’m going to make certain my precious cousins are stopped in their tracks.” He patted Mimi’s curly head so she sighed in her sleep. She might be an embarrassment to the name dog, but she was his, and he’d developed a grudging affection for her.
“But how will you stop them?” Sophie asked.
He let out a breath. “We’ll have to lay a trap.”
***
“But surely this Esme and Jonathon will suspect a trap?” Sophie felt nervous and flustered. She was good with children and animals. She was a marvelous cook. But an entrapper of criminals? Mais, non.
“Relax,” Vince said, looking as though he was having far too much fun for her peace of mind. “We’ll do great.”
“I don’t think Sir Galahad is well enough yet for visitors,” she said hopefully, though in truth the dog had recovered remarkably in the two days he’d been home.
“Forget it. He wants a piece of them, don’t you, boy?” Vince said, rubbing the dog’s head so he rolled to his back and waved all four paws in the air in obvious invitation. With a low chuckle, Vince squatted and rubbed the dog’s belly. If there could be anything good to come out of a dog poisoning, it was that Vince had come to appreciate Sir Galahad. He called him by his name now and had clearly come to realize the dog belonged in his household.
Vince was so big and gruff, but she wondered if he even realized what a soft heart he hid under all his tough-guy bluster. He was sweet with the dogs, by turns tender and raunchy with her. She sh
ook herself as she caught herself smiling like a simpleton while Mimi trotted over to share in Sir Galahad’s attention. When big, tough Vince picked Mimi up and laid her over his shoulder, where she draped herself like a fluffy white stole, Sophie fell in love with the man.
No, she thought as the realization pumped through her, she hadn’t fallen in love that second, she’d only just let herself accept her feelings.
Love. And with an American! As she waited for the panic and horror of her situation to sink in her stomach like an emotional Titanic, her feelings continued buoyant. In fact, she couldn’t keep the smile off her face. This time, her heart had chosen well.
And if the man she loved wanted to play detective in order to protect the dogs he’d grown fond of, then she supposed she was going to have to pull herself together and help him.
“All right,” she said. “What is the plan?”
“We invite them for lunch.”
Her eyes widened so suddenly she felt her eyelashes scrape her lids. “Am I supposed to poison them?”
Vince laughed. “Tempting. But I have something else in mind. I’ve got a few calls to make to set things up.”
***
“Pooh,” she said, when Vince returned from taking Sir Galahad across the hall to 17B. He’d hired the neighbor’s boy to look after the dog for a few hours while the sting operation went down in 17A.
She ran her hands down the front of her short black skirt on her way to check on the lunch. The food at least would be good. Everything else made her nervous. “Why did you have to invite them for lunch?” she asked as she stirred soup. “I hate these people.”
“Stop fidgeting. You’ll do fine.” He hoisted Mimi to his shoulder, where she perched like a fluffy angel.
“I wish I could hide next door.”
“I need you here. My partner in crime busting,” he said and kissed her swiftly. Then he raised his head and with one hand touched her cheek. “My partner in—”
The doorbell chimed, so she jumped with nerves, and Vince stopped in mid-sentence to kiss her once again. Hard and swift. “Here’s something to take your mind off the charade,” he said, his eyes crinkling as he stared into her eyes the way he did sometimes when he was deep inside her body and moving toward climax. “I love you.”
While her mouth opened and closed a couple of times, he grinned at her once more and kissed her open mouth. Then he went for the door.
It was all right for him, addling her brains and making love to her mouth, then telling her he loved her. All right for him to tell her to relax; she had the pivotal role in this farce.
He loved her.
Oh, she wished he’d chosen a better time for his declaration. Given her time to assure him in the most obvious way that she returned his sentiments.
She glanced at a million dollars an ounce Mimi, yapping from Vince’s shoulder, thought of Sir Galahad next door, who was still moving slowly.
She watched Vince’s strong, broad back as he opened the door. The man she loved. The man who loved her. She wouldn’t let them down. She wouldn’t let any of them down.
She was smiling and calm when Vince ushered in two similar-looking, expensively dressed and groomed cousins. Jonathon did his best to look down her shirt when he was introduced and held her hand a little too long. Esme didn’t stoop to shake hands with the staff, merely nodded, gazing at her with cold eyes.
So the woman was a snob and her brother a lech. Just a couple more counts to add to their rap sheet along with attempted murder.
Vince poured them all a glass of dry white wine, and Sophie brought out a tray of hors d’oeuvres, and they sat sipping and munching for a few awkward minutes.
“Really, Vince, I can’t believe you’re still in this dismal apartment now you’re a multimillionaire,” Esme said by way of an opening conversational gambit.
“Not me,” he replied with a smile. “Mimi’s the multimillionaire.”
She laughed. “You’ll hardly let an insane old woman’s will stop you from spending a fortune.”
“We’ll see,” he replied noncommittally, but Sophie saw the flare of anger in his eyes. He didn’t talk about Aunt Marjorie much, but she could tell he’d been fond of the woman.
“As flattered as we are to be invited for a family reunion,” Jonathon drawled, “what’s up?”
“It’s Mimi.” The dog, who’d jumped on Sophie’s lap the minute she sat down, raised her head when she heard her name. “I was wondering if you’d take her while Sophie and I go away for a few days.”
Esme put her glass down with a decided snap. “You’re sleeping with the housekeeper? Oh, Vince.”
“Salope,” Sophie whispered into Mimi’s ear, and she could have sworn Mimi nodded agreement. Before Vince called his cousin something worse in her own language, which she could see he was about to do, Sophie spoke up. “I’m not the housekeeper. I’m Mimi’s nanny.”
The superior smirk the woman sent her had her gritting her teeth. “Sure, you are.”
She rose, knowing they had to get this horror show moving. It was no longer herself she was worried about blowing the operation, but Vince. He looked as if he wanted to toss both of his cousins out. And from the look on his face, he’d send them through the seventeenth-floor window.
While Vince and his cousins worked out arrangements for the supposed dog-sitting assignment, she played her part in the kitchen. “Vince,” she called out. “What have you done with my tarragon?”
“Is that a spice?”
“Bien sur.”
“I put it on the top shelf in the cupboard beside the oven. It’s not like you ever need them.”
“I do,” she snapped. “I like flavor in my food.” She dragged a kitchen chair to the cupboard in question and climbed onto it, revealing the maximum leg possible knowing that Jonathon, at least, would be watching. She retrieved the spice and then reached behind it. “Oh,” she said. “What’s this, Vince?”
“Hmm? Don’t know. Never seen it.” He was lying because he’d fed the poor Doberman from the tin she was now holding not three days ago.
She eased open the lid, careful not to look into the living area. “Imbecile,” she said. “It is cookies. Dog cookies.”
“Oh, probably from that stuff of Mimi’s. There was so much of that junk I put it away and probably forgot about it.”
She clambered down and placed the tin on the counter, then added the tarragon to her Minestrone de Coques et Saint-Jaques.
They managed to get through the lunch with more cordiality, and she couldn’t help but notice her “discovery” had caused Esme and Jonathon to drop the hostility. While they professed themselves delighted to dog sit Mimi for a few days, Sophie noticed how often Jonathon’s eyes strayed to the kitchen counter where she’d so casually left the tin with the cute hand-painted poodle design.
Vince had assured her his cousins wouldn’t put off their murderous intent until they were dog sitting Mimi because, if she died mysteriously under their care, it would be too obvious they’d killed her.
A private investigator friend of Vince’s had arranged for the original biscuits to be tested, and they were, as Vince had suspected, laced with poison. The same poison that nearly killed Sir Galahad. But there was no proof that Esme and Jonathon were to blame. At least, not yet.
She only hoped the trap they were setting caught the two thoroughly unlikable cousins.
After they’d finished eating, Sophie said, “I’ll put coffee on.” She was a little nervous now, since the next part of their plan involved getting themselves out of the main rooms without causing suspicion. It was the weakest part of their strategy as well as the most important.
She was about to deliver her oft-rehearsed line about running down to the corner store to get the coffee she’d supposedly run out of. When she reached the main entrance she’d have the doorman buzz Vince and tell him to come down and bring her some money. She had to play a spoilt princess and refuse to come back up. Neither of them liked the idea of lea
ving Mimi alone in the apartment with the cousins, though.
She took time to arrange cups and fiddle with cream and sugar, putting off the moment she’d pretend there was no coffee, when she caught a look that passed between Jonathon and Esme and decided to wait a minute.
Her patience was soon rewarded.
“Sophie,” Esme said, rising from her chair. “Can I speak to you privately about something?”
The woman had been condescending to downright rude, and now she wanted to speak in private? Vince was right. These two weren’t all that bright. Thank goodness. “But of course.”
“Excuse us,” Esme said, and walked to Vince’s bedroom. Sophie didn’t dare look at Vince as she followed in his cousin’s wake. Once they got into the bedroom, Esme shut the door and said, “Um, look. I’m sorry if I was a little hostile earlier. It’s just that I care about Vince. He’s been hurt by women before.”
If Vince had been hurt by women, he carried no scars, and he certainly hadn’t told Sophie about it. “Oh, that’s sad,” she said.
Esme sank down onto his bed, crossed her long, elegant legs, and gazed at Sophie. “I don’t want to see him hurt again.”
“Are you asking me what are my intentions?” she asked, trying very hard not to laugh.
“Well. Um. Yes. Yes, that’s exactly it. I am.”
“Okay, well, I can tell you—”
“Wait!” the other woman stuck a hand in the air as though she were about to summon a head waiter. “I don’t want to do this behind Vince’s back. I think we should be completely open.” And without giving Sophie a chance to say a thing, she called out, “Vince, honey, Sophie and I would like to see you in the bedroom.”
The soft male rumble of voices ceased from outside the door, and Vince said, “Okay,” as though it were perfectly normal for women to tag team him in his bedroom. Hmm.
He arrived in a moment and shut the door behind him. He shot Sophie a brief glance so full of meaning she had to turn her head.
“Now, Vince, I asked you to come in because Sophie is about to tell me what her intentions are toward you.”
