by MCCOY, JUDI
Viv snorted before saying, “Don’t expect any sympathy from me if that hunky detective decided to instigate another friendly interrogation.”
“No, not Ryder. I doubt I’ll have to deal with him again . . . unless I find Buddy.”
“I hope he’s taken you off his hit list in that murder investigation, because I’m not looking forward to a monthly trip to Ossining or wherever the state sends felons these days.”
“Cute.” Ellie sighed. “The visitor was my mother.”
“Really? What did the ‘ex-terminator’ want?” Viv’s pet name for Georgette was a commentary on the woman’s penchant for marrying men and turning them into ex-husbands as fast as Arnold had destroyed his movie victims.
“Stanley proposed.”
Viv hmmphed her disapproval. “No offense, but your mom has the most unbelievable luck with men. What number will that make darling Stanley? Five? Six?”
“Six, and here’s the kicker. Mother isn’t sure she’ll say yes. Can you believe it?”
“Not sure? Stanley’s got to be a couple of years past eighty, so it’s not like she’ll have long to wait before she’s single again.” Viv turned up the collar on her trench coat. “And once he’s gone, she’ll be set for life.”
“She’s already set for a dozen lifetimes,” Ellie pronounced, mentally calculating her mother’s net worth. “If you want my opinion, I think she’s afraid she’ll be a jinx in this marriage. With Georgette, things aren’t always clear.”
“Thanks to her dedication to plastic surgery, the woman can be ditzy until she’s a hundred, and she’ll still find a man. Did that nut job painter—Preston, was it?—ever show his face after the divorce?”
“Not that she said. Personally, I think he’s living on an island somewhere in the Pacific, counting the money he pilfered from her bank account.”
“Maybe. But it was spooky the way he just up and disappeared. Good thing she got rid of him before he took more than a half million, or the poor thing would be forced to buy off the rack, like the rest of us paupers.” Viv slid her sunglasses to the tip of her nose and gave Ellie a look. “I have a suggestion, guaranteed to make you forget your shameless mother. How about meeting me for drinks and dinner tonight—seven o’clock at Harry’s?”
The idea of another late evening sat at the very bottom of Ellie’s to-do list, even if the bar was a local hangout fairly close to the apartment. “Sorry. Not a chance.”
“Come on,” Viv pleaded, rolling her grass green eyes. “It’s been ages since we’ve done anything together. You need to get back into the swing of things, meet people, cut loose, and have some fun.”
“I meet people when I walk my charges, and Rudy is all the fun I need right now.”
“Then do it for me. We haven’t had a girls’ night out in forever, and I miss it.”
Not spending time with Viv hadn’t been Ellie’s fault, so she asked the obvious question. “What happened to Jason?”
“Away on business. Please? I won’t take no for an answer.” Viv’s discerning gaze took in Ellie’s bulky jacket, faded jeans, and worn hiking boots. “And do me a favor. Wear something you didn’t buy at the army surplus store. Whatever happened to that turquoise sweater I gave you for Christmas?”
The comment on Ellie’s lack of fashion expertise sounded a warning bell in her brain. “It’s folded neatly in my sweater drawer. And I just remembered I have an appointment.”
“With who?”
“Myself, that’s who.” She bent to collect Rudy’s morning ‘gift.’ “If I don’t hit the sack on time, I’ll fall asleep on my usual park bench tomorrow and get arrested for loitering. Not smart with Ryder on my tail.”
“Then how about we forgo dinner and just have drinks at the Grotto? You can leave after one cosmopolitan.”
Ellie stuffed the sealed bag in her coat pocket and crossed her arms. Viv was quite the actress. Her ploy might have worked, if she wasn’t such a broken record. “I’ve got to hand it to you, you definitely deserve an ‘A’ for effort. If I didn’t know you were one hundred percent Irish, I’d guess you learned how to manipulate from your Jewish mother.”
Vivian huffed out a breath. “How do you consider trying to arrange a date for drinks or dinner with my dearest friend manipulative?”
“If it was just you, it wouldn’t be, but I smell a rat.” Ellie walked beside Viv, who wore a wounded expression as she sauntered to the subway entrance. “Let me say it one more time: I’m not interested in meeting a man, no matter how attractive they or their bank balances appear.”
“How can a night out with a couple of nice men hurt?” Viv asked, her voice almost a whine. “If you don’t like them, I’ll even leave with you. See what a good friend I am? I’m willing to give up a free dinner to keep you happy.”
Ellie stopped in her tracks. “Does Jason know you’re dating when he’s out of town?”
“We’ve yet to talk about mutual exclusivity, so it’s none of his business. Besides, I’m doing this for you.”
“Sure you are. What I don’t understand is why my love life has suddenly become everyone’s business.” Ellie glanced at Rudy, who gave her the doggie version of a shrug. “It’s not like I’m a thirty-year-old virgin or anything.”
“You might as well be,” Viv said with a sniff. “When Georgette guarantees to find you a sugar daddy, I’ll stop pestering, though I really can’t see you with an eighty-year-old invalid. Please, say yes. Dwayne is a lawyer, and Mark is a stockbroker. I’ll even let you stake your claim first, after you meet them. How’s that for being a pal?”
“Pals don’t nag,” Ellie reminded her. Since her divorce, lawyers gave her hives, and she’d always believed that the pressure-filled job of a stockbroker had stressed her father to the max, contributing, she suspected, to his early death. “Besides, I’m seeing someone tonight, right after my last walk,” she countered, stretching the truth. “Someone I met without any help from a friend.”
“Oh, really? Who?” Viv asked, her eyes shadowed in doubt.
“A veterinarian by the name of David Crane.”
“A vet? How old? Is he good-looking? Tall? He must have money because animal-care costs in this city are out of sight. How did you meet him?”
“Dr. Dave is a nice man, thirtysomething, my height, and he loves dogs. What more could I ask for?”
“I don’t remember you talking about Rudy’s vet.”
“I’ve only met him twice professionally, once when I brought Rudy home, and again in the elevator of the Davenport. Who do you use for Mr. T?”
“You mean Twink?”
“Yeah, Twink, though we’ve—I’ve started calling him Mr. T. He seems to . . . um . . . like it better.”
Viv cocked her head, much like Rudy did when he was thinking. “Hmm. I’ll have to try that. The little stinker never comes when he’s called these days.”
“About that vet?” Ellie reminded her.
Viv stared at her Manolos. “I haven’t taken him to anyone for a couple of years.” Before Ellie read her the riot act, she held up a hand. “I know, I know, so skip the lecture. I’m an irresponsible owner, I don’t care for my pet, yada, yada, yada.”
“I don’t get it. You take him to the Ritzy Canine Carriage all the way over on Fortieth when you travel, bring him to the Tomy Maugeri Dog Salon on Eighty-first for grooming, yet you can’t get him to the vet for a yearly physical?”
“T deserves those pricey places.”
“T deserves basic medical care with a good vet first,” Ellie snapped. “I’ll ask Dr. Dave if he has time to give Mr. T a quick exam and make sure his shots are current. Do you have his health records?”
“Somewhere in the apartment. I’ll find them.” Viv eyed her watch. “Uh-oh, gotta run. You’ll take him for me, won’t you?” she called as she headed down the subway stairs. “You set it up, and I’ll write the check. Just let me know when. I’ll phone you later.”
Ellie shook her head as her friend disappeared. How could
a person profess to love their dog and not make sure it had yearly checkups, or a vet at the ready in case of an emergency? Even Vivian, who knew better, was a lax parent. Now she expected someone else to handle her Jack Russell’s health care. Glancing down, Ellie locked gazes with Rudy. Was he frowning?
“T deserves better.”
“Oh, come on,” she answered as she headed for Bruiser’s building. “Viv’s a good mom, just forgetful. You know that.”
“T says some days his water dish is empty, and he doesn’t always get a breakfast nibble.”
“She has a lot on her mind. I might be the same way, if you didn’t remind me.” She led him to Fifth and turned north toward the Beaumont. “Now let’s beat feet. We’re late.”
They arrived at her newest client’s apartment, and Ellie pasted a smile on her face and walked in, prepared to introduce herself to the day-shift doorman. “Hi, I’m Ellie Engleman, here to walk the Bests’ pom. 6-A?” She cricked her neck to meet the hulk’s deep-set gray eyes, noting he topped Kronk by about three inches and fifty pounds. “They were supposed to leave the key and a permission form.”
“Name’s Natter. They gave the okay. You got ID?”
She dug her wallet out and waited while he read the fine print on her license. When he passed her the key, she handed him a half dozen business cards. “If you hear of anyone else in the building needing a dog walker, I’d appreciate it if you gave them one of these.”
“I’ll do what I can.” He stuffed the cards in his pocket. “Mr. Best said this was a trial week. Guess Bibi finally wore out her welcome.”
Ellie couldn’t help herself; she had to ask. “What exactly did Bibi do to get on the Bests’ bad side?”
“Always late, for one thing. And the family has two kids. Bibi promised to pick them up from school and escort them home a couple of times, then never showed. People might get angry when their dogs mess the carpet, but they’re downright furious when their kids are put on a back burner.”
“I don’t blame them. See you in a few minutes.” She led Rudy to the elevator, storing the bit of gossip in her brain. Once inside, her canine companion was strangely quiet. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like Bruiser?”
“What’s not to like? He just doesn’t say much.”
“That’s a relief. He was so quiet yesterday, I thought maybe it was me.”
They trotted to 6-A and unlocked the door. “Bruiser, you ready to go?”
The ball of red-and-gold fluff didn’t show, so she strode inside. Was that a doggie whimper coming from the back of the apartment? “Hey, Bruiser, It’s time for your walk.”
“I don’t like this,” Rudy announced. “Something’s up.”
Setting off down the hall, Ellie peeked into rooms as she made her way to the far end of the unit. She didn’t enjoy invading a customer’s private space, but the Bests were paying her to do a job, and a good reputation was important in this type of business.
Ellie froze at the sound of another whimper, and Rudy rumbled a soft but threatening growl.
“Bruiser? Where are you?”
Inching the last few steps to the final room, she peered around the doorway, prepared to care for a sick pomeranian, or maybe the little guy’s collar was caught and he couldn’t get free. Instead, she found a woman, dressed in overalls and a battered parka, sitting in a large wing-back chair in the corner of what appeared to be a study with the agitated dog on her lap.
“Bibi?” The pooch struggled to break free, but Bibi held him fast. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting to have a talk with you, of course.” Bibi was done up in her usual pale foundation and black-rimmed eyes; her thin lips, also lined in black, wore a scowl. “You’re two minutes late. The Bests won’t like that.”
“I had to introduce myself to Natter and collect the key.” Why the heck was she explaining her schedule to a competitor? A fired competitor, at that. “Are you supposed to be here?”
Bibi gave a nasty-sounding chuckle. “Hey, they’ll never know. After all I did for this family, I still can’t believe they let me go.” She spat out the words. Bruiser growled and Bibi squeezed his muzzle with fingers tipped in black nail lacquer. “Shut up, you little prick.”
Ellie threw back her shoulders and advanced a step. “Maybe you should discuss this with Mr. and Mrs. Best. Right now, my job is to take Bruiser for his morning walk.”
“Eugene guessed you were the one who stole this gig from me, but I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt,” she answered in a sour tone. “Next time, I’ll know better.”
Great, now she had two enemies. “They were a referral from a friend,” said Ellie, trying to play nice. “It might not work out. This is just a trial week.”
“So you say,” Bibi snarled, much like some of her charges. Still clutching Bruiser’s muzzle, she ran her free hand through her spiky black hair. “Personally, I have a plan to get this guy and the others back.”
The others? “How did you get in? Natter is downstairs, and he never said—”
“This dog isn’t the only one I walk in the building. I brought up the others, then came here to wait for you. Besides, what do you care?”
“I care,” Ellie told her, “because I’m the one who’s now responsible.” She raised a brow in question. “Didn’t they ask you to return your key?”
“ ‘Didn’t they ask you to return your key?’ ” Bibi repeated in a mocking falsetto. “Eugene is right. You are clueless.”
“Are you saying you make duplicate keys of your clients’ homes? That’s illegal.” And against every rule governing the dog-walking profession. “The Bests could go to the police.”
“Sure they could, but I’d deny it. In fact, as far as I’m concerned we never had this conversation.” She stood, and dropped the pom to the floor, and Bruiser raced to Ellie’s feet. “Go on, take him out. I’ll see you later.”
Without thinking, Ellie stepped in front of her competitor as she sauntered past. “You’d better hand that key to Natter on the way out. If anyone knew you did this—”
“Hey,” Bibi said, her brown eyes fixed in a spooky sort of stare, “don’t stick your nose in my business.” She stormed around Ellie, knocking her in the shoulder as she left. “And don’t say I didn’t warn you when the shit hits the fan.”
“Any word on Buddy?” Ellie asked Randall when she entered the Davenport forty-five minutes later.
“Nothing. But a number of people are looking for him. Kronk, especially, is bent on success, though I’m fairly certain he’s more interested in reaping a reward than he cares about the bichon’s safety.”
“Have to agree with you there,” she commented. Visions of Bibi, and possibly Eugene, abusing more of their charges danced in her brain. “I met Bibi at the Beaumont, and I wonder, has she been in today?”
“Much earlier,” Randall said, opening the door for a resident, “with Eugene. Neither of them said a word, of course. Just did their jobs and left, or I think they did. There’s so much activity in the morning, I don’t always notice. Have you had a chance to look at that list I gave you?”
She shook her head. “Sorry. I’ve been too busy, but I will. I assume the usual suspects have been here every day? No one’s suddenly disappeared since the professor was killed?”
“As I said, I don’t always see the Liquid Ice man, or the others who deliver via the service elevator. I assume the rest have been in and out.”
“Come to think of it, I usually see that guy once in a while, too. Was the professor one of his customers?”
Randall walked to his desk and checked the list. “He was, and the police have his name.”
“Okay, then. I guess that’s good enough.” She rested her elbows on the counter. “Can I ask you a question?”
He tipped his hat as another couple left the premises. “Detective Ryder has been upstairs for nearly an hour, if that’s what you need to know. I believe he’s with the professor’s niece from New Jersey.”
&nbs
p; She’d planned to make a stop on Buddy’s floor, just to check things out, but Randall’s report told her now wasn’t a good time. “Thanks for the warning, but it’s not about Ryder. It’s about Bibi . . . and Eugene.” Why not continue gathering information on the creepy gay guy, just in case he and the creepy Goth girl were partners in crime? “When they lose a customer, do you collect their keys, or is that the tenant’s responsibility?”
“In the end, it’s the tenant’s job, but I’ve had to ask for the keys in a few cases.” He leaned in close. “And Bibi and Eugene aren’t the only walkers doing business in this building. Have you met Fred?”
“ ’Fraid not. Who is he?”
“An older fellow, works mostly part-time when a few of the tenants go on vacation. The professor used him once, and so did the Burmeisters. But they were so annoyed after he walked their dog they refused to speak to Fred personally, asked me to give him their letter of termination. Touchy situation, that.”
“Have you ever heard of anyone using Bibi or Eugene complain about a theft or mention objects were missing from their apartment?”
The dapper doorman tilted his head. “No. But that doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened. Some of these people have units full of collectibles, things they’ve amassed over years of living here. I doubt they’d realize anything was stolen unless they went over their inventory on a weekly basis.” He crossed his arms. “Do you know something I should know?”
“Not exactly.” She sidled toward the elevator and pressed the CALL button. “I’m running a little late. I accepted a new dog a few blocks from here, at the Beaumont, and I’m scheduled to do him first.”
“Congratulations,” he said as the door closed.
Ellie rode up in silence, her brain working full speed. As Buddy’s previous caretaker, Eugene had plenty of opportunity to make a duplicate key to Professor Albright’s apartment. He’d probably returned a key when the professor let him go, but kept the copy. If so, it was plausible he could have done his usual run at the Davenport, then entered the professor’s apartment without anyone’s knowledge. And maybe Fred, a guy she’d never met, had kept a key, too.