by MCCOY, JUDI
Chapter 5
The next morning, Ellie found Randall in the lobby of the Davenport, pushing a broom like a Merry Maid on crack. After a few minutes of waiting, during which time she thought he might wear out the floor with his crazed cleaning routine, she tapped his shoulder.
“Randall, do you have a minute?”
Startled, the doorman jumped and spun around. When he recognized her he sighed. “Thank goodness it’s you and not the police. I’m positively exhausted, answering their questions, letting them trudge through the building, allowing them to interrogate the tenants,” he said in a frazzled tone. “The residents are wondering if there’s a murderer living in the building, and since they know Buddy is missing, they’re certain a dognapper is among them.”
With Rudy sitting patiently at her feet, Ellie rested her elbow on the counter. “They should be worried, especially about their dogs, because I agree with their idea. I think the professor’s killer stole Buddy.”
“Then he was murdered? But how? Just about anyone going into and out of the building has to pass me, and I was at my post all morning. No stranger entered the Davenport.”
“Do me a favor. Make me a list.”
“Like I did for Detective Ryder?”
“Exactly like you did for Ryder, and add anyone who might have used the service elevator, too. I’ll pick it up on my way out . . . unless you don’t have the time.”
“I think I kept a copy for my own peace of mind. I’ll try to find it. You know, the police didn’t ask me a thing about the dog during questioning, though they made a point of asking the names of every person on your client list.”
She rested her chin in her palm. “That means trouble.”
He propped both hands on the broom handle. “How so?”
“Because Ryder thinks I know something, and it wouldn’t be good if he mentioned that to my customers.”
Randall shook his balding head. “That’s a shame, but never fear. I vouched for you. Told him you only came in once that morning, and it wasn’t long before you called me about the professor. There wasn’t time for you to have killed him or done anything with Buddy.”
“Thanks. I knew I could count on you.” She dug in her bag and brought out sheets with the bichon’s picture, a description, and her phone number. “I made these on my computer last night. Think you could post one where people will see it?”
“I’ll put it up, but management might take it down. You know how prudish some of the people who live here are.”
“It can’t hurt to try.” She slid two of the sheets toward him, then her gaze strayed to the elevator. “Is everyone gone?”
“I said a fast farewell to each of your clients, so your charges are waiting. Just don’t be surprised if you find a note or two mentioning they received a visit from the police.”
People with money to burn hated to be inconvenienced, and speaking to an officer of the law about their dog walker would definitely fall into the category of “nuisance.” “I guess so, but I can’t imagine one of them saying something that might incriminate me. I haven’t been walking in this building long enough to cheese anybody off.”
“That could change once the good detective gets ahold of Eugene or Bibi.”
Crap. She’d forgotten about her unpleasant competitors. “I’ll just have to weather that storm when it blows in. Since it’s only me and Rudy this morning, we’ll go up by ourselves. That way, you’ll have time to hunt up that list, and talk to the police if they stop by.”
“Thank you. And you’re right. I expect they’ll be in and out for days. I’ll simply have to do the best I can.”
“Things don’t look good, do they?” Rudy asked the moment the elevator door closed.
“I can handle it, pal. Don’t worry about me.”
“I don’t like that detective guy. Like I said last night, he has shifty eyes, especially when he looks at you.”
“I told you, it’s because he thinks I’m a suspect. Once he’s sure I’m not involved, he’ll get off my case, and I’ll never hear from him again.”
“I doubt that. His testosterone level was in the red zone the minute he walked into our apartment.”
“His testos—” The doors opened on Sweetie Pie’s floor, and they stepped into the hall. “How do you know about that?” she asked, her face heating.
“Superior sense of smell. We canines can scent the big bang from miles away.”
“ ‘The big bang’? You’re incorrigible.” She turned the key to Barbara Jaglinski’s apartment and squatted to get the leash dangling from Sweetie Pie’s muzzle. “And off the mark where Ryder is concerned.”
“Why are you two discussing the ‘big bang’?” the Westie asked, attesting to a dog’s superior hearing. “Babs didn’t get any last night, either, so I guess my ploy worked.”
“You should be ashamed of messing up the course of true love for your companion,” Ellie scolded. Then she glared at Rudy. “And my sex life is none of your business.”
“If you say so,” he answered in a smarmy tone
Embarrassed by both canines’ opinions, she picked up Stinker and Jett and brought the troop to meet Buckley. After a few rounds of butt sniffing and play bows by the dogs, she led them to the lobby, out the door, and onto Fifth. They crossed at the light on Sixty-sixth, detoured into the park, and spent the next thirty minutes doing what dogs did while Ellie kept her eyes peeled for any sign of Buddy.
Once she tossed the waste bags, she returned her charges to their homes, stopping to write a note to each owner, something she’d had no time to do yesterday. Later, after Sweetie Pie’s second walk, she’d do the same for Ms. Jaglinski. She’d learned in her first week of dog walking that a canine’s family enjoyed hearing about whatever their pet did on their walk, including the condition of their BMs.
Then she stopped in the lobby to get the list from Randall and offer a final word of advice. “Please call me, not the cops, if you get any news. I don’t want Buddy taken to a shelter, and Ryder said if I found him, I could keep him until they locate the professor’s niece.” She glanced at the paper he passed her. “You’re sure this is everyone?”
“I’ll tell you the same thing I told the police. No one came in or out except the tenants and the regular morning services. You know, the newspaper and dry-cleaning deliverymen, Eugene and Bibi, cleaning services, the people who are here on a regular basis, which includes you. I don’t usually see those who enter via the service elevator but—”
“I forgot about that. Who goes up that way?”
“Furniture movers, people who deliver water, anyone with a product too large or bulky for the lobby. But there was nothing scheduled for yesterday.”
“And none of the regulars acted suspicious or . . . off?”
“Not that I noticed. Eugene returned with his charges while you were busy with the police, and he seemed inordinately pleased when he heard the professor’s death had caused the commotion. Bibi didn’t say a word, but then she rarely does.”
“I had a run-in with Eugene last night, when I came to talk to Kronk. He’s just mean enough to find Buddy and sell him to the highest bidder.”
“Do you think so?” asked the doorman, his face dour.
She sighed. “Buddy once told me—I mean the professor told me—that Eugene was rude, especially with his boy. It’s the reason he was so quick to give me a chance.”
Randall’s brows met over the bridge of his patrician nose. “You do realize the police are going to sweep the matter of the missing dog under the rug? I know you’re fond of Buddy but—”
“The cops don’t give a rat’s behind about him. I don’t think they have a burglary team or anyone else searching, but I’ve been thinking: How could he escape if the door was closed when I got there?”
“Hmm. It does give credence to your dognap theory.” He pulled his shoulders back. “I plan to give the police my opinion on the subject the next time they call.”
“You do that, but don’t sa
y you heard it from me. Hang those flyers, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Still thinking about the situation, she headed with Rudy into the early-spring sunshine. Crossing the busy avenue, she stopped for a quick conversation with one of her favorite people. Marvin had been selling newspapers, magazines, candy, and lottery tickets at this stand since she was a teenager, hawking goods alongside a dozen other vendors who worked the sidewalks around her territory. She knew all of them by name, but the news seller was the most talkative. He also interacted with the locals, which could help her cover more ground in her puppy hunt.
“Hey, Marv.”
“Ellie, Rudy.” The elderly African-American showed a smattering of gold teeth. “Saw the commotion at the Davenport yesterday. Heard it was Professor Albright.”
“Yes, and it’s really got me upset.”
Marvin passed a customer the New York Times and collected the money. “I bet. What happened?”
“It might have been a heart attack, but the police aren’t saying. And there’s more. Buddy is missing.”
“Aw, that’s a shame. He’s a cute little fella.”
“You didn’t see him wandering the street, did you? Or maybe spotted someone with a dog that resembled Buddy?”
“I seen a hundred little white dogs bein’ walked around here, but I didn’t recognize any of ’em as your pal.”
Ellie handed him a business card. “Do me a favor. Keep your eyes open. Ask some of the other walkers, too. And if anyone mentions they found a dog, get the info and call me.”
“Will do.”
She led Rudy to a hot dog vendor she frequented and waited in line. It was early for lunch, but stress always ratcheted up her hunger quotient. “One with mustard and kraut, one plain, and a diet soda, Pops.”
“You sure are an easy sell,” the cart pusher said, grinning. With wrinkles creasing his nut brown face, eyes that twinkled with curiosity, and a small, wiry body, Pops reminded her of a monkey who’d found a way to hide in plain sight on the busy Manhattan streets. “Saw some activity yesterday. Word is we lost Professor Albright.”
She accepted the can of soda and dropped it into her side pocket. “Can you believe it? When I picked up my charges, I discovered his body.”
He held out her lunch. “That’s rough. How’d it happen?”
“I’m not sure, maybe a heart attack. But his pooch is missing, so keep an eye out. Buddy is my small bichon, really cute and friendly. He was one of Eugene’s dogs, until the professor hired me for the job.”
“Ah.” He passed her the food. “I see.”
“See what?” She licked a glob of mustard off her thumb.
“Eugene’s probably havin’ a field day, knowing the customer you stole from him is dead. He was here about a half hour ago walking his gang from the Beaumont. Guess that’s why he acted so cheerful.”
“He’s a sicko,” Ellie pronounced. “See you tomorrow.”
She led Rudy to a bench and began to eat her lunch. The sidewalk teemed with people, most stepping with purpose, but many strolling while they gazed at the high-rises on the opposite side of the avenue. The Upper East Side was made up of apartment buildings and condominiums, with few businesses in sight. The residents in this area didn’t want the neighborhood cluttered with restaurants, shops, or bars when they paid a ton of money for a direct view of Central Park and the stately Metropolitan Museum.
Her gaze wandered to Rudy as she bit into her hot dog. He waited patiently, though his eyes never left the wiener sitting next to her in a paper sleeve. After taking a swallow of soda, she picked up the extra sausage, tore off a chunk, and tossed it his way.
“We’ve had quite an interesting twenty-four hours, huh?” she asked after Rudy hopped on his hind legs, caught the tidbit in midair, and gulped it down. “Have to say, you’ve been golden through all this—except for the way you behaved with Ryder last night.”
“I did what any canine worth his kibble would do. I tried to protect my best friend. You are such an innocent where men are concerned.”
Soda sputtered from between Ellie’s lips. Eyes watering, she dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “Stop already with that ridiculous ‘big bang’ theory. And quit smelling people’s hormones. It isn’t polite.”
“Hah! As if I could,” he gruffed.
Giving him a warning glance, she tossed him a second piece of hot dog, wrapped the leftovers in a napkin, and tucked them in her coat pocket. She had the entire afternoon before she was scheduled to return to the Davenport for her second walk with Sweetie and Buckley. She had plenty of time to search the area and visit the ASPCA on Ninety-fourth, where she’d found Rudy.
It was also time she phoned the list of possible clients Viv had given her. Either way, her day was going to be productive.
Hours later, her phone battery running low, Ellie set her notebook aside on her usual park bench. Between dropping flyers at the shelter, she’d talked to doormen, spoken to guards in front of the museum, and contacted fifteen potential clients, some of whom agreed she could meet their dogs.
Rudy was now dozing at her feet, and she knew she’d nod off herself if she sat there much longer. Between the disaster surrounding Professor Albright and her visit from Ryder, she’d tossed and turned all night, alternately worrying about the missing bichon and trying to figure a way to drive the hunky detective from her mind.
Though the man was as close to her physical description of Mr. Perfect as a guy could get, he irritated the bejesus out of her. She could handle his repeat questions, though they were growing old, but what really upset her was the fact that he’d told her she was “too nice” to commit murder. Too nice, my ass, she thought as she and Ruby crossed the Avenue. Another five minutes of his double talk, and she would have committed the decidedly “un-nice” act of conking him with a fire iron.
She’d been the ideal Stepford wife for ten years, done whatever her scum-sucking husband had asked, said all the things he’d wanted to hear, worn the clothes he’d chosen for her, even lived on carrot sticks and bullion to keep her figure the way he wanted. She was done being any man’s idea of nice.
She’d used the past year to become her own person, speak her mind, and stand her ground. Too bad spending time with her had convinced Ryder she was a sweet girl with no guts, no moxie. No killer instincts. Well, she’d show him.
But how, she asked herself as they walked to the Joe to Go nearest to the Davenport. When they arrived, she tied her dog to an outside table and told him, “Stay and be good.”
“How about a little water and a biscuit? That’s the least you can do for your best bud, right?”
Ellie flinched at his pathetic tone. With all the turmoil, she’d forgotten to bring the bottle of water and miniature bowl she usually carried for her pal. “Not a problem. Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”
The coffee shop was owned and operated by an old school buddy. Joe Cantiglia was one of Manhattan’s bravest entrepreneurs: a young guy with the guts to vie for market share against the bigger national coffee chains. He lived above the business and rented out floors three through five for extra income. He’d let Ellie work a few shifts there after her divorce, but it had taken only three days for her to realize she wasn’t cut out to operate machinery in tandem with hot liquids.
Keeping one eye on her pooch, she waited in line, placed her order, and asked for Joe. The barista told Ellie he was working at his second store, so she paid for a large caramel bliss and a sugar cookie, collected a paper cup of water, and walked back into the fresh spring air. After taking a seat at the table, she served Rudy a drink, gave him a bite of the cookie, and tasted her coffee.
Surprisingly, the hot, sweet liquid sent a jolt through her system, ordering her common sense to rise to the fore. What had she been thinking when she’d made that crack to Ryder? She wasn’t capable of murder. She opened windows to shoo out flies and spiders. She’d never be so vile or so demented that she’d kill another human being, no matter what they did to her.
But that didn’t mean she’d given up on her idea of smacking the detective upside his head.
Thanks to her mother’s financial assistance and Viv’s moral support, she’d learned to take care of herself and live independently. Granted, she’d borrowed money from Georgette to make it happen, but she no longer answered to Ellen Lipschitz, thank God, and was proud to be back to her maiden name of Engleman. Never again would she hostess a boring cocktail party dressed in a skinny-strapped gown and four-inch heels. Nor did she have to make polite small talk with snooty people who had no interest in anything but the amount of money they’d make on their next business deal.
Intent on her musings, she didn’t hear the familiar voice sneaking into her thoughts until Rudy put a paw on her knee.
“In case you’ve forgotten, I’m still here.”
“I noticed.” She ruffled his ears. “Not to belabor the point, but you were very impolite last night, growling at Ryder the way you did. I taught you better manners than that.”
“You know why I don’t trust him.”
“Well, you’re wrong, so can your observations. We have to continue seeing him until this mess is straightened out and we find Buddy.”
“There’s gotta be a better way,” he grumped.
“I can’t sit by and let whoever took him get away with it, but once this investigation is wrapped up, we’ll never have to interact with Ryder again.” Capping the coffee, she stood. “Come on, we have to do a second round at the Davenport. Then I have appointments. Two people at the Beaumont aren’t happy with their current dog walker, and this time both of them use Bibi.”
At the corner, she crossed with the light and pushed through the crowd. When Rudy tugged on his lead and jerked her forward as they reached the other side, she slammed into a skinny guy in a purple leather jacket, and knew immediately by the scent of the sickly-sweet cologne who it was.
“Well, well, well.” Eugene’s fingers skimmed over the garish leather as if brushing off her touch. “If it ain’t Miss Wannabe again. You just can’t stay off my turf, can you?”