by MCCOY, JUDI
Frowning, he shuttled past her, but she pressed her position, finally touching his sleeve. She’d need a shower when she got home, but the contamination was worth it if it helped find Buddy. “Please, give me five minutes.”
He skittered to a stop and glared. “It’s late, and I’ve got a client down the street. And don’t try to follow me and steal the job, either. Bibi and I are on to you.”
Bibi Stormstein, a woman of indeterminate age and indiscriminate fashion sense, was the feminine version of Eugene, though Ellie had no idea of her sexual orientation. But Ellie felt certain Bibi was equally disreputable and discourteous, and hated her just as much as Eugene did.
“I’m not out to steal your clients,” she explained, and it was almost the truth. “This is about a different matter.”
“Oh, yeah. Kronk mentioned Buddy was missing, but it doesn’t have anything to do with me.” He propped a shoulder against the building. “Too bad about the professor, ain’t it?”
“It’s terrible. But I’m worried about his dog.”
“That spoiled mutt? I hope he got run over by a bus.”
Rudy snarled while Ellie blinked, too shocked to speak.
“Don’t play little Miss Innocent with me. You’re in this profession for the money, just like I am.” He glanced at the terrier. “And keep your dog away from me.”
“Yes, I walk canines for the money, but I love dogs. How can you do this job and not care about them?”
“Easy. I put on my pants every morning and go to work. It’d be the same as if I was a waiter or a street cleaner, that’s all. Besides, dogs are animals. What do they know?”
“Please let me bite him,” Rudy begged with a snarl. “Just a nip on the ankle or maybe the knee. I’ve had my shots, so it’ll be okay.”
“No, you may not,” Ellie answered, then realized what she’d done. “I mean, they know a lot. Dogs have personalities, feelings. They love, hate, understand. I can’t believe you don’t see that.”
“Blah, blah, blah,” he said with a grimace. “So now that we’re talking, what did you want?”
“You go to a lot of buildings, walk a lot of dogs. Have you seen Buddy wandering the streets or Central Park? Did any of your customers mention him?”
“No and no. Now move. I’m late for my next appointment.” Brushing past her, he charged up the sidewalk without a “so long” or a backward glance.
“What a creep.”
“I know, but shots or no shots, you still aren’t allowed to bite him. He’d sue us, and then where would we be?”
“Sue us? If I caught something from him, I’d be the one who needed time at the vet. We could sue him.”
“He has a Taser, you dope. If he uses it, you could be killed.” She heaved a sigh. “And we’d be separated again. Do you want that?”
Rudy plopped his butt on the cement and gave her a sincere grin. “I’d come back.”
She dropped to a squat and pulled him near. “I’d go crazy if I lost you a second time, and there’s no guarantee we’d ever find each other again.” Hugging him, she whispered in his ear, “You mean everything to me, little man.”
“Aw, I love it when you get all weepy.” He gave her cheek a sloppy lick. “Okay, I’ll be good. But he’d better not lay a finger on you, or all bets are off.”
Sniffing, Ellie stood. “It’s getting dark, so I guess we should walk home a different way. If I hold out that extra biscuit and call Buddy’s name, we might find him.”
“You do that while I put my nose in gear. But first, how about the other half of my treat?”
She complied, then walked to the back of the Davenport, but aside from a neatly stacked Dumpster, there were no signs of an animal—not even a rat. Dejected, they headed home.
Chapter 4
Sam stared at the mound of paperwork that had piled on his desk over the past week. Completing the forms required in this job was the bane of his existence. The city had everything programmed online, but the system was down more often than it was up. Not a computer kind of guy, he did most of his work in erasable pen and ate the nasty comments his sergeant tossed out on a daily basis. Truth be told, aside from fiddling with e-mail, he couldn’t do a damn thing on a computer.
Pulling out a file, he opened it and checked the spiral notebook he kept for each case. After finishing the first round of forms, he moved to the second, which belonged to a case that had wrapped this morning.
Then he calculated the number of hours that had passed since the ME had taken control of the professor’s body. Until he had a preliminary report, his hands were tied, even though he had a gut feeling it was a homicide. And according to police protocol, he couldn’t even do anything about the missing dog until he knew for sure that a murder had been committed. Not that he cared about Billy—or was it Bobby?
Removing the dog walker’s business card from his shield case, he took a second look. The cartoon image of a fuzzy mutt was imprinted in one corner, and her phone number in the opposite, while professional info was crammed in the middle:
Paws in Motion
Dog walking for small breeds only
Pet and apartment sitting available
Ellie Engleman
Ms. Engleman had curly gold-tinted hair, a heart-shaped face, and pouting lips. But what stood out in his memory were her dark-lashed blue eyes gazing at him in frank disapproval whenever he asked a question or made a comment.
She had some nerve, acting as if he was a criminal for not loving dogs. So what if he wasn’t fond of ankle biters? He’d been raised in a row house in Queens, with a small backyard and even less front. He, his parents, and two sisters had shared a single bath and three bedrooms, and they’d barely had room for themselves, never mind a dog.
Pet sitters marched up, down, and across Central Park every day, and all their clients had money to burn. Besides paying high rents, the inhabitants of the swanky apartments and condos gave dog walkers about the same amount they paid the nannies of their children. He’d heard it was a cutthroat business, with many of the walkers pulling down six figures, which gave him another angle to consider.
Had the killer, if there was one, murdered the professor for a dog? Had someone been out to steal the mutt, and Albright got in the way? It was hard to fathom anyone taking a life for the mere privilege of walking a dog, but in this city, people had been murdered for less. Still, who would snuff someone over a pet? And why?
His desk phone rang and he answered, “Ryder.”
“Sam. It’s May Bridges.”
He opened the spiral notebook he’d begun on Albright’s case. “What do you have?”
“Your body from the Davenport—definitely a homicide. I’m still running tests, but he did wear a pacemaker, and from the look of it, someone or something screwed it up big-time.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“I sent the pacemaker to a lab for testing, but best guess is something scrambled the signal and the system shorted out.”
“And that was evident because . . .”
“Once I got him on the table, I found a burn line running from his left fingers straight to his chest. When I opened him up, the pacemaker was out of commission. It makes sense.”
“No shit?”
“No shit.”
“When can you give me more?”
“Once someone from the manufacturer gets back to me. Then there’s the toxicology screening. I should have a better picture in a couple of days, but for right now you’ve got yourself a murder.”
Sam disconnected the call. A burn line, a pacemaker with a short, and seared fingers. Couple those facts with a charred door, and it was unlike anything he’d ever run across. All the more reason to track down witnesses.
His gaze focused on the card for Paws in Motion, and he realized he’d have to speak to the Engleman woman again. Always willing to play it for laughs, he admitted it had been a stitch yanking her chain about the chocolate on her face.
“Ryder!” The captai
n’s voice echoed across the bullpen. “In here. On the double.”
Figuring the summons was about the Monetti case, Sam grabbed the file and sauntered to his boss’s office. At the door, he leaned against the frame. “You want to see me?”
Captain Mitchell Carmody, a bear of a man with huge hands and a ruddy complexion, sat hunched over his desk, his gray eyes narrow, his mouth grim. “Come in and shut the door.”
Sam did as requested.
“Have a seat. What’s that in your hand?”
“The Monetti file.”
“And?”
“Babcock and DeNunzio made the collar earlier in the day. Suspect’s in jail, and the arraignment’s set for tomorrow.”
“Good.” Carmody tapped the eraser end of a pencil on his blotter. “I heard they found a body in the Davenport today.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Crime or happenstance?”
“I just got off the phone with Bridges. She’s fairly certain it’s a homicide.”
“How’d it happen?”
“Something funky with the guy’s pacemaker caused his heart to stop.”
“Last I heard, a heart attack’s not murder. And death by faulty pacemaker isn’t a crime, either.”
“Bridges didn’t think it was a malfunction. There were burn marks on the vic’s fingers and a red line running up his arm straight to his chest. She’s on it.”
“That’s a new one. Any leads?”
“No, sir.”
“Suspects? Witnesses?”
“The body was discovered by the victim’s dog walker. I had her in for questioning most of the afternoon, but my gut tells me she isn’t the guilty party.”
The captain’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Dog walker, huh? So the guy had a pet?”
“It appears so. But the mutt’s missing.”
“Missing? What the hell happened to it?”
“We don’t know. The dog walker is on the lookout but—”
“ ‘The dog walker is on the lookout’?” his boss repeated in an exaggerated tone. “Who is she?”
“Ellen Elizabeth Engleman. She handles several dogs in the building. Opened the door to pick up Albright’s and stumbled on the body.”
“I like dogs,” said the captain. Staring into space, he appeared lost in thought. “Louise and I owned one of our own a couple years back. Hit us hard when he died.”
“So you got another dog?”
Carmody’s expression turned mutinous. “Hell, no. There’s not a canine around that could replace our little bichon.”
At the name of the breed, Sam swallowed. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to be holding his ass in his hands.
“Jocko was one of a kind. It about killed the wife when we had to say good-bye.” Clearing his throat, he rearranged a stack of files. “What kind of dog was it?”
“Uh, I believe the woman called it the same as Jocko, sir. A bichon.”
“A bichon frise?”
“Maybe.”
“Hell in a handbasket.” Carmody’s face turned brick red. “And it’s missing?”
“Yes, sir. At least, that’s what Ms. Engleman said.”
The captain heaved a breath. “Listen up. Stay in touch with the dog walker and keep tabs on her progress. Report the dog to animal control, and talk it over with stolen property.” He ran a hand over his face. “Was it a purebred?”
“She mentioned that the dog had won at Westminster a couple of years back.”
“Goddamn.” Carmody shook his leonine head. “I remember the year that bichon won. The wife and I were sitting on the sofa with Jocko, watching the competition on the tube when he took Best in Show.” He twirled the pencil between his fingers. “Keep on top of it, and stay in touch with the city pound, too. Maybe they picked him up or someone turned him in.”
“Yes, sir. Is that all?”
“A bichon. Son of a bitch.”
The captain’s phone rang, and Sam let himself out. Just his luck he had a dog lover for a boss. He dropped the Monetti file on his desk and headed for the door. Time to make rounds at the Davenport. After that, he’d call on Ellie Engleman.
“I’m telling you, something’s not right.” Ellie spoke to Vivian as she paced her living room after returning from the Davenport. Viv had walked her own dog, deposited Twink in her apartment, and climbed the stairs for a chat. “It doesn’t make sense that Buddy would just disappear.”
Vivian blew a huge bubble and let it pop. “If Buddy’s out there, I’m sure he’ll find his way back.” She ran her fingers through her stick-straight dark brown hair, then smoothed hot pink spandex workout pants over legs a runway model would kill for and headed for the kitchen. “Got any ice cream?”
“Caramel Cone,” Ellie answered, heading for the kitchen. She’d given up being jealous of her best friend’s high-fashion figure months ago. “And what do you mean if he’s out there?”
Viv plopped into a chair while Ellie opened the freezer. “He has to be somewhere, doesn’t he?”
“He’s somewhere, all right, but it makes more sense that someone stole him. Rudy and I did a lot of walking tonight, and there was no sign of him.” Taking a seat, she passed over a spoon and a fresh container of Häagen-Dazs, then opened the pint she’d snacked on earlier. “Unfortunately, the police don’t care that he’s gone.”
Viv peeled the protective seal from the carton and dug in. “What’s the cop’s name in charge of the case?”
“Detective Ryder, and he’s a moron.”
“Another D?”
Ellie almost wished Ryder was another dickhead, because it would make him forgettable. Sadly, that wasn’t the case. “I have no idea what type of private life he leads. I just know he’s surly and suspicious and—”
“What on earth did he do to you?”
“Do? Absolutely nothing . . . much.”
“Doesn’t sound like ‘nothing much’ to me.” She swallowed a scoop of ice cream. “Come on, tell me.”
Mortified, Ellie confessed. “He brought me in for questioning.”
“Questioning! You mean like they do on CSI? Did he make you sit under a bright light and threaten you with a rubber hose? Or play good cop-bad cop with another guy?”
“No lights, no hoses, and the beating was strictly mental. Just the two of us arguing while a gaggle of officers and other public servants tromped in and out of the room, continually interrupting us. And it was embarrassing. According to Ryder, I’m his prime suspect.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Unbelievable, isn’t it? And it didn’t matter how many times I told him Buddy’s disappearance was the key to solving the crime.”
“Is he sure it was murder?”
“Not one hundred percent. Apparently there’s evidence to gather, tests to run, people to hassle. They’re waiting on the medical examiner’s decision, forensics, too.” She sighed. “The main thing is, Buddy is gone.” She scanned the kitchen for Rudy, then remembered he was asleep on the living room sofa. “And it only makes sense that someone stole him,” she whispered. Then she frowned. “Or maybe he’s dead, just like Albright. Either way, it’s a tragedy.”
Viv waved a spoonful of ice cream. “If he sneaked out of the building, there’s a good chance he is. Traffic in this city is a bitch.”
“I know,” Ellie said, her own spoon poised over her near-empty container. “Poor little guy.”
“Hah!” Viv responded after swallowing. “To hear you tell it, that pup was more than spoiled. Slept on a bed bigger than mine, wore a diamond-encrusted collar, and wasn’t the professor the client who demanded you take his dog out in bright yellow rain gear if the sky was cloudy?”
“Yes, but that’s understandable. Buddy’s worth thousands, and his stud fees are astronomical.”
“Just like a man, expecting a woman to pay him for giving pleasure,” Viv said with a snort. “Both my exes thought they were God’s gift, too.” She rolled her expertly made-up eyes. “I’ll take ice cream and BOB o
ver Walter and Steve any day.”
Ellie ignored the reference to a battery-operated boyfriend and gave her opinion on the only husband of Viv’s she’d met. “Steve was a prick. Is he still a client rep at your firm?”
Vivian shook her head. “Left for the Chicago office a week ago. Said the sight of me made him so miserable he couldn’t concentrate.” She capped her ice-cream container, set down her spoon, and deposited the carton in the freezer. “Save this for me. I have a feeling I’ll be needing it. I’ve just about given up on men.”
“I thought things were okay with Jason,” offered Ellie.
“Too okay. Which means the ceiling’s about to fall down around me.” She shrugged. “It never fails. As soon as I connect with a guy, something comes along to ruin it. At this rate, I’ll never get married again.”
“Why would you want to?” asked Ellie, recalling her four-times-divorced mother. Georgette was a firm believer in the institution of matrimony. After Ellie’s father had died and left them a less than decent nest egg, her mom had married an attorney, then a banker, an aspiring artist, and a stockbroker, and received huge settlements from three of them. Currently, she was dating a retired judge who was well into his eighties.
“Not for the money, that’s for sure. I was thinking more along the lines of great sex and someone to rub my feet when I have a hard day.”
“Oh, right, as if Walter and Steve ever did that.”
“Okay, they didn’t. But that doesn’t mean I can’t look for a guy who will.”
“Not even a great foot rub would get me to marry again.”
“Of course not. Because you’d actually have to share a conversation, maybe even have a date or two with a man before you refused to tie the knot.”
“I’m happy with things the way they are. I have Rudy—”
“Rudy is a dog. A woman has needs.”
“That’s what BOB is for,” Ellie reminded her with a giggle.
“And a big supply of batteries.” Her cell phone rang, and she jumped. “Who the heck can that be? It’s almost eleven.” Digging in her bag, she flipped the unit open. “Hello.”