by MCCOY, JUDI
“I say so, and—” The pooch cocked his head, a threatening growl rumbling from his clenched muzzle. “What’s the matter?”
“We’re not alone.”
“Who’s out there?” she whispered.
“Hard tellin’. Better grab the nearest weapon.”
Just her luck. With her mace sitting securely in the bottom of her purse on the kitchen table and her phone barely running, she had no choice. She picked up the baseball bat next to her dresser and tiptoed down the hall.
“It’s about time you finished your call.” Her mother’s trembling voice hinted at disaster. “I was going to give you two minutes more, then leave a note and go home.”
Ellie shot Rudy a glare. The little sneak knew exactly who’d walked into her apartment. What did he expect her to do? Bean her pushy parent with a Louisville Slugger?
“Mother, I didn’t hear the buzzer.” She set the bat in a corner of the living room and plopped onto the opposite end of the sofa. Maybe it was time she asked for the return of her keys? “It’s kind of late for a chat, don’t you think?”
Georgette appraised her through disapproving blue eyes. “Have you put on more weight?”
Ellie refused to sigh or indicate in any way that she’d heard the long-standing question. Her mother wore a size four, and couldn’t understand why her only child had doubled her already-too-large size eight.
“Is something wrong at home?”
“Wrong?” Georgette’s permanently sculpted eyebrows arched like two caterpillars preparing for battle. “Can’t a mother stop to chat with her favorite daughter, especially since said daughter hasn’t been to visit in over two weeks?”
She scanned her mother’s ankle-high Roger Vivier boots, tailored wool slacks, and navy blue cashmere sweater, all visible through the parted folds of her crystal fox fur coat. Though dressed in her finest casual wear, Georgette’s less than perfect makeup and wind-tunnel hairdo did not bode well.
“You don’t usually leave the penthouse after dark unless—has something happened to Stanley?”
A tear brimmed from one brilliant sapphire eye, trickled down Georgette’s cheek, and disappeared on the tip of her dainty chin. “I never could fool you, could I? You’re right. It’s the judge.”
Ellie imagined all the horrible things that might occur to a wheelchair-bound eighty-three-year-old man. “Is it his heart? Did he have another stroke?”
“No, no. It’s nothing like that.” This time Georgette brushed away a tear before it slid past her nose. “He’s—” She pulled a tissue from her Judith Lieber handbag. “He’s asked me to marry him.”
“Marry you?” Ellie quickly closed her mouth. Her mother was fast approaching Liz Taylor’s record of seven, or was it eight, husbands. She never could keep it straight, and wondered if Liz ever had the same problem. Did Richard Burton count as a twofer? And what about—
“Honestly, Ellen Elizabeth, why do you find the idea of Stanley and me taking vows so shocking? We’ve lived together for over a year.”
“Not shocking,” Ellie fibbed. “But it is sort of—I mean, you’re fifty-five and he’s”—she did a fast calculation—“twenty-eight years your senior. That’s quite a spread, don’t you think?”
Georgette made a rude noise and punctuated it with a disdainful sniff. “Age is a number, nothing more. Plenty of men wed younger women, especially after failed first marriages. Look at Donald Trump, Kevin Costner, Kenny Rogers, Heinrich Applebaum—”
“Heinrich who?”
“Applebaum. He lived next door when I was married to Phillip. Heinz is still there, though he divorced that twenty-year-old supermodel long ago.”
“What does that have to do with you and Stanley?” Ellie asked, regrouping her thoughts.
Georgette’s lower lip quivered. “It’s just that I never thought to marry again. And I really like Stanley. He’s such a darling man.”
“But do you love him?”
Her mother shrugged. “Of course, I do. But what if the same thing that happened with the others happens with the judge?”
“You think he’ll cheat on you like Phillip did—”
“No, of course not.”
“Drink himself sick every night or help himself to your bank account and disappear?”
“Stanley is a millionaire ten times over, and he can barely move his own wheelchair.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Don’t you see?” Georgette asked after a long-suffering sigh. “For whatever reason, I’m afraid it won’t work out, and he’ll be devastated. I truly thought I could make his last days happy ones, but now . . .”
“You can’t make him happy if you’re married? Mother, that doesn’t make sense. You and Daddy had a great life. You simply made the wrong choices with your next husbands.” Each of Georgette’s relationships had started on a joyous note. Unfortunately, after Ellie’s father had died of a brain embolism at age forty, Phillip, Archibald, Preston, and Davis turned out to be bastards on a par with the D, which was one of the reasons her mother had been awarded such generous settlements in three of the decrees. “Besides, Stanley is well aware of your marital history. If he’s willing to give it a go, why shouldn’t you do the same?”
Her mother sniffed again, ignoring the question. “Can you believe it? The silly man doesn’t even want a prenup. What am I going to do?”
“Talk him into the prenup, if it makes you feel better.”
Rudy took that moment to hop onto the sofa and stretch out on her mother’s fur. When Georgette frowned, he began licking his privates as if he were lapping a bowl of beef gravy. Giving a little shriek, she tugged the coat out from under him and pulled it close around her. “That animal is disgusting. I still say you should have gotten a cat.”
“Rudy, off,” Ellie chastised, picking the dog up and setting him on the floor.
“Told you she didn’t like me.”
“You’re being too sensitive,” she said, directing the comment to her pooch.
“That’s a new one,” her mother spouted. “Usually you tell me I’m not sensitive enough. Honestly, I wish you’d make up your mind.”
Seemingly pleased that he’d made his point, Rudy settled on the floor at Ellie’s feet while she ran rigid fingers through her curls, thinking. Georgette was insensitive, especially when it came to her only child. They might have formed a stronger bond had Ellie resembled her delicate, doll-like mother instead of her giant klutz of a dad. In fact, except for the color of her eyes, there wasn’t one chromosome she could claim from her mother’s exceptional string of DNA.
“Sorry. I’ve had a long day.”
“I figured that out when you didn’t return my phone messages. After I let myself in and heard you talking, I thought you might be entertaining. I didn’t want to interrupt, so I decided to wait. Then I realized you were on the phone. Please tell me you were conversing with a man.”
It was definitely time to change the locks. “I was speaking with Rudy’s veterinarian. We’re meeting at a client’s home tomorrow.”
“Don’t tell me you’re still trolling for customers to add to your dog-walking list?”
“It takes time to grow the type of business I’m starting. I need six more dogs just to pay the monthly mortgage on this place, and another eight to take care of the bills, including what I borrowed from you.”
Georgette wrinkled her pert nose. “It’s bad enough you’re walking other people’s dogs. Picking up excrement on a public sidewalk is simply demeaning.”
Oh, boy. She was definitely too tired to wage this battle. “We’ve had this discussion a hundred times before. I perform a service people are willing to pay for. One that will allow me to be independent and live my own life.”
“And how many dogs do you walk now?”
“I have four, possibly five, if things work out with a new client. I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m exhausted. Maybe you should go.”
“Five? Is that all?”
“I
had another, but he’s gone missing,” she confessed. “Won’t Stanley wonder what happened to you?”
Her eyes wide, Georgette skated right over the pointed question. “You lost a dog?”
“Uh, not exactly. The professor died and—”
“I tried to warn you about taking a job that required you to get personally involved with people.”
“It wasn’t like that—”
“What happened to the man’s dog? Did it die, too?”
Sighing, Ellie filled her mother in on the situation with Buddy.
“I think I read about the incident in the paper, but the report never mentioned a dog. Just said the authorities considered the death suspicious.” When Ellie didn’t respond, her mother asked, “What aren’t you telling me?”
Ellie had grown a set of balls since her divorce, but they shrank to the size of peas whenever her mother appeared. If she had any guts, she’d demand the return of her apartment keys, but owing Georgette for the money she’d lived on over the last year made that impossible. In fact, she was surprised the woman hadn’t began her usual advice about finding a wealthy husband.
“Not a darned thing.” Ellie sat upright on the sofa. “I really have to get to bed. I leave for my rounds at eight-thirty.”
Georgette rose and straightened the lapels of the subtly shaded amber-and-cream fur, then fluffed her color-coordinated hair. “Very well, I’ll go.” She clutched the Judith Lieber. “Maybe you can come for dinner one night this week? Say Friday? Stanley asks about you constantly, and I’d appreciate your input on our situation.”
Her input? Since when? Ellie almost asked out loud. Regaining her senses, she made a demand she was certain would let her off the hook. “Only if I can bring Rudy.”
“Fine,” her mother replied without sparing the pup a glance. “Seven this Friday will be perfect.”
“You’re sure.” A muscle in Sam’s jaw twitched. “No one noticed a thing?”
“We talked to every resident on the floor, knocked on every door, even questioned a couple of prospective tenants in the lobby. I personally hung around until midnight so I could grill the doorman on the graveyard shift. Nobody saw jack.” Liebowitz shook his head. “If the professor was murdered, a damn ghost did it.”
“Have you talked to Jantzen about his contacts at the university?”
“Yeah, and it doesn’t sound as if he’s faring any better. Said to tell you he’d finish the questioning tomorrow and get you the details ASAP.”
“Okay, fine. Drop the paperwork on my desk. I’ll let you know if I need more.”
The gangly officer did as requested and left. Sam frowned as he picked up the pages. Aside from his prime nonsuspect, he’d hit a dead end on every trail. He opened the file to start copying Liebowitz’s findings to the pink sheets, and a vision of Ellie Engleman surfaced.
Sam cursed under his breath as the dreaded truth took hold. Whenever a female kept popping into his head, it usually meant one of two things: She was guilty of a crime, or she had horizontal potential. And since he was fairly certain the dog walker hadn’t done in the professor . . .
Well, damn. If his love life hadn’t been in the throes of a dry spell for the last year or so, he wouldn’t be having such ridiculous thoughts. Once he caught up with work, he’d do something about it, though he had no idea what. He wasn’t interested in one-night stands, and after his divorce, he sure as hell didn’t want another serious relationship. Shrugging, he decided to worry about it later. He needed to go home and get some sleep.
His phone rang and he tossed the pencil on his desk. Still frowning, he figured he’d better answer it. In this business, a lead could come from anywhere at any time.
“Ryder.”
“Sammy. Everyone’s here and we’ve finished dinner. Are you going to make dessert?”
Rolling his eyes, he stared at the ceiling. “Sorry, Ma. I should have called. I’m afraid I won’t be there tonight.”
Her silent chastisement echoed over the line like a bass drum. “When was the last time you ate a good meal?”
A month? Six weeks? Who the hell could remember?
“A day or so ago. Honest.”
“You’re lying. I can hear it in your voice.”
“I’m eating all right. And I’m too busy to talk.”
“I read there was a murder at one of those high-rises near the park. Did you get stuck with the case?”
“Stuck” about covered it. “That really isn’t any of your business, Ma.”
“I beg to differ. You’re my only son. A mother has a right to know.”
“I have a lot of cases. That’s why I don’t have time to come over.” Where the hell were his sisters? “I thought Sherry and Susan were keeping you company.”
“They’re here. You want to say hello? Susan! It’s your brother,” Sam’s mother screamed before he could stop her. “He wants to talk to you.”
Great. Swell. Freakin’ fine and dandy.
“Hey, big brother, we missed you tonight.” Susan’s nasal tone made him smile. “Your string of no-shows is giving Ma a weekly case of indigestion. I think Sherry’s ready to kick in one of your knee-caps.”
“Yeah, well . . . What’d you have for dinner?”
“Your favorite: roast beef, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans dripping in butter, salad with blue cheese dressing, and homemade apple pie fresh from the oven.”
A heart attack on a plate, thought Sam. No wonder his dad had died of one. “That good, huh?”
“Fabulous. Tom’s going off carbs for the rest of the week, but he says it’s worth it. I’ll just do a couple of extra miles on the treadmill, like usual.”
Thanks to his father’s health history, his younger sisters were diligent about their diet and exercise, though they avoided discussing it with their mother. The woman felt guilty enough whenever anyone brought up her husband’s death.
“I’m sorry I missed it.”
“You should be apologizing to Tom. As the only man at the table for the past month, he’s threatening to shoot you—if he ever sees you again. With your luck, you’d probably have to investigate your own murder.”
“Har-har.” He hunched over his desk. “Look, tell Ma I’m sorry. Try to make her understand I’m swamped these days, but I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine. You sound tired and overworked, and I know you’re underpaid.”
“Tell it to the mayor.” His gaze drifted to the mountain of paperwork on his desk. “I might be able to make it for Sunday brunch . . . if you and Sherry promise to show.” He wasn’t a coward, but there was safety in numbers. “Tom, too.”
“Not this Sunday. Tom and I are going to the Hamptons. There’s a triathlon, and he’s entered.”
His brother-in-law was a physical-fitness nut masquerading as an attorney, while his sister worked at a local health club. Talk about a perfect match. “Great, thanks for your support.”
“Sherry will be here. I think she’s bringing a new guy.”
“That ought to make Ma ecstatic.” And keep her off his back for a while. “Tell her I’ll do my best to be there.”
“I’ll give her the message. I have some news for you myself, by the way,” she said in a hushed tone. “I wanted to tell you in person, but since you keep skipping forced family night, you’ll have to hear it via the phone. You sitting down?”
“I guess I’d better be,” he said with a laugh.
“You’re going to be an uncle.”
“Holy Christ!” Sam shot straight up in his chair. “Are you sure?”
“Three positive home-pregnancy kits later, I’m more than sure,” she answered with a smile in her voice. “We haven’t even told Ma yet, so keep it under your hat.”
“Ma probably already knows. When?”
“In about seven and a half months. I’m seeing a doctor this week. After he gives me a due date, I’ll spring the news.”
“Let me know when you plan to make the announcement, and I’ll be there.�
�
“Uh-huh, sure.”
“No, honest, I will.” He crossed mental fingers. “Give me twenty-four hours’ notice, and leave a message on my cell. I’ll make it come hell or high water. Promise.”
“I’m going to hold you to that. Oh, oh. Sherry and Ma are calling from the kitchen. Gotta go. Bye.”
Sam hung up the phone. Well, damn. He was going to be an uncle. If nothing else it would keep his mother off his case for, say, the next couple years. If he was really lucky, she’d be so busy with a grandchild, she’d leave him alone until the kid graduated from high school. And if Susan had a few more, he’d be free and clear for the next two decades.
Standing, he eyed the Albright folder. He had an appointment with the professor’s niece tomorrow morning at the apartment. When finished, he planned to hang around and have another go at the tenants. With luck, he’d catch the daunting dog walker in action, go over her story a third time, and appease his commanding officer by asking if she’d had any luck finding the mutt.
He had high hopes the niece, Ms. Victoria Pernell, would be able to tell him if anything was missing from the scene. If so, they’d have a motive that might lead to the killer.
If not, there was another theory to check out, but it was one he found hard to swallow.
Chapter 7
Ellie took Twink—make that Mr. T—off the lead and hustled him into his apartment after his morning walk. Viv was not an early riser and often had trouble giving her dog a proper outing before heading to work. Ellie didn’t mind doing her friend a favor and seeing to the Jack Russell. Most of the time, the dog was a hoot, even with his new fixation on The A-Team .
After Viv locked her apartment door, the women and Rudy went outside and stopped in front of the building, where Viv studied Ellie’s face with a knowing grin.
“Let me guess. You had a starring role in last night’s horror flick, Night of the Living Dead.”
Okay, thought Ellie, so her eyes were ringed with dark circles. Next time her mother stopped by late, she’d toss her out on her Prada-clad butt. “Thanks to a surprise visitor, I was awake past my bedtime.” No exaggeration, because she’d considered Georgette’s dilemma long after her mother had left for home. “You know I go to bed early.”