Hounding the Pavement

by MCCOY, JUDI

  A grin radiated from Randall’s ruddy face. He offered her his palm. “Perhaps this one will work just as well.”

  “You have an extra?” she asked, her heart skipping a beat.

  “It’s only prudent I have extra keys, in case a tenant misplaces theirs. The good detective merely asked if I’d returned a key, not every copy.” He tucked the key inside his jacket pocket. “I took it upon myself to fudge the truth . . . in case something was amiss.”

  “There’s tape covering the professor’s door. If I went in now, Ryder would know it was me.”

  “Then wait a day or so. I’ll phone you the minute I’m certain the coast is clear, and you can take a look-see yourself.” He sniffed. “Who knows what a cleaning crew can do in a hallway late at night? If the detective asks, I’ll simply pass that along, and he can draw his own conclusions.”

  Ellie beamed in approval. “Why, Randall, who would have figured you to be so devious?”

  “Who, indeed?”

  She turned from the counter, her smile still firmly in place. “It’s lunchtime, and I have work to do. Last night, I printed Buddy’s picture from his MSG win on my computer. I’m bringing a couple more flyers to the ASPCA, but I’ll be back later. See ya.”

  She didn’t get more than three feet out of the Davenport before Rudy pronounced, “Be careful around that cop, Triple E. Besides the rampaging pheromones, he has shifty eyes.”

  Shifty no, smoldering yes, Ellie thought, then tamped down her thoughts on Ryder’s eyes. Eyes that had appraised her from head to toe and back again in what had seemed like a purely male manner. Recalling the way his full-body inspection had made her warm all over, she filed the impression away for later scrutiny and glanced at her furry pal, trotting obediently at her side.

  Rudy had protecting her on his brain, but she could take care of herself, even though it was nice to know he looked out for her the way she looked out for him.

  Filled with a warm, fuzzy feeling for her pal, she led him across the street to their favorite lunchtime vendor. “Hey, Pops, one plain, one with kraut and mustard, and a diet Coke.”

  The wizened street merchant made change and passed her the order, then nodded toward the Davenport. “I see things have quieted down since the other day. Any word on Buddy?”

  “Unfortunately, no.” Ellie picked a clump of sauerkraut from her wiener and popped it in her mouth. “I guess you haven’t seen him on the street?”

  Pops scratched his stubbled chin. “Nope. Sorry. You been to the shelter?”

  “Once, but I’m going again, after I eat. Anything can happen in twenty-four hours. Just keep on the lookout, okay?”

  She and Rudy went to their usual bench, and she set his treat beside her. Rudy cocked his head, his expression pleading, and she rolled her eyes in return. “You’re a dog. The rules say you’re supposed to eat second.”

  “Rules, schmools. We’re buddies . . . like Timmy and Lassie, Rusty and Rin Tin Tin, Asta and Nick Charles—”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a female.”

  “Ryder’s noticed.”

  “Forget Ryder, and concentrate on Buddy. Where would you go if you ran away?”

  “Me, I wouldn’t. Maybe Buddy got sick of the high life, saw the open door, and went looking for adventure.”

  “Something tells me that’s not what happened.” Breaking off a section of the extra wiener, she tossed it in the air. “Here, and try chewing this time.”

  Rudy caught the treat on the way down and swallowed it after two bites. Ellie was about to throw him another hunk when a familiar shadow fell across her knees. Raising her head, she locked gazes with one of the homeless residents of Central Park.

  “Hey, Gary. What’s up?”

  Gary, a man of indeterminate age, focused on the remainder of the hot dog. “Not much. Is Rudy gonna eat that?” His dour expression, crusted in dirt and bits of vegetable matter Ellie didn’t want to think about, screamed of starvation. “ ’Cause I’m hungry today. Maybe you could ask Rudy for me?”

  She raised a brow in Rudy’s direction.

  “Sure. Fine. Whatever.”

  She passed Gary the wiener. “He says you can have it.”

  “Tell Rudy thank you.” Gary wolfed down the hot dog, then dropped onto the bench, stretched out his legs, and gave a toothless smile. “He’s a good friend.”

  Ellie glanced at Gary’s sneakered feet, the biggest she’d ever seen on a normal-sized man. The worn red Nike high-tops had to be a size fifteen, maybe more, even though he stood eye level with her five foot eight. Then again, they could have been three sizes too big and wadded with newspaper, but they were all Gary could find in the way of footwear. Guys like him didn’t have the luxury of being choosy.

  “Rudy’s the best. Did you ever own a dog?”

  “Nuh-uh, not me,” he confided. “My mama used to say dogs were dirty and full of fleas.”

  If only your mama could see you now, thought Ellie. “Not my boy,” she told him instead. “I give him a bath, clip his nails, and douse him with flea repellent every month. He’s probably cleaner than you—er—most people.”

  “That’s good, ’cause fleas aren’t nice.” He scratched his chest in an intimate demonstration. “They bite.”

  Ellie moved a few inches away. “Good thing for you the weather got warmer, huh? You were probably freezing in your cardboard shelter.”

  “Not after you gave me that blanket.” He flashed his gums a second time. “You’re a nice lady, Ellie.” He rubbed his nose, and she spied a bit of skin peeking out from behind the grime. “Say, I got me a pair of almost new curtains for my window from a Dumpster behind the Duane Read. You wanna come see ’em?”

  “Maybe some other time. I have to go to the shelter and ask about Buddy.” She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten to ask the homeless man about the bichon. “You know Professor Albright is dead, don’t you? And his dog is missing?”

  “The little white one with the funny haircut? The one you said was a champion?”

  “That’s him. Have you seen him inside the park or on the street? He’s been missing for a couple of days, and I’m worried something bad’s happened to him.”

  “If I did, I woulda brought him home with me until I saw you and given him to you—honest I would have. I know he’s one of yours now, and not mean Eugene’s.”

  “That’s good to hear. Keep a lookout, okay?”

  “Uh-huh.” Gary’s mud brown gaze darted across the street to a pair of young men arguing loudly as they stood side by side on the corner. When a police cruiser pulled up, he mumbled, “Them guys is nothin’ but trouble.”

  Ellie peered over the traffic. “Do you know those two?”

  “I just seen ’em around. I don’t like people who are mean or do bad things.”

  “Bad like how?”

  The men joked with the cops, then crossed Fifth and headed into the park. Gary jumped to his feet and walked in the opposite direction. “I gotta go now, but the next time you’re here, promise you’ll come to my house. I got lots of new stuff to show you.” He walked backward as he spoke. “Okay, Ellie? Promise?”

  “Sure, fine, just be careful in there. I hear guys still deal drugs in some out-of-the-way places.”

  Gary shuffled off as if he hadn’t heard the warning, his clown-sized sneakers slapping the pavement. Ellie had only been to his foliage-covered cardboard box once this past winter, and remembered he lived somewhere in the bowels of the park. Wondering what brought a man to such a sorry state, she made ready to go to the animal shelter.

  “If you ask me, his mama was a real ball buster,” chimed Rudy, again reading her thoughts.

  “Some mothers are like that,” she agreed, thinking fleetingly of Georgette. Her mother hadn’t always been so judgmental and interfering; those charming personality traits had only surfaced after Ellie’s father died. Obsessed with the state of their finances and her ability to put a daughter through college, she’d made it her personal quest
to marry a wealthy man. Archie Brewster, their attorney and family friend, had been more than happy to fill the bill as husband number two.

  His and Georgette’s divorce two years later, coupled with her own unhappy marriage to the D, only supported Ellie’s belief that money wasn’t the most important thing when searching for the right man.

  Hands on her knees, she stood and asked, “You ready to visit the ASPCA?”

  “I hate that place.”

  “Me, too. Whenever I’m inside, I get this crazy urge to free all the prisoners and bring them home.” She sighed. “Totally stupid, I know.”

  “You got that. Our apartment won’t hold another dog.”

  “Not even a cute little girly-girl poodle or shih tzu?”

  “You had me snipped and clipped, remember?” he grumped. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

  “I did what any responsible pet owner should do if they don’t plan to breed their dog.”

  “Maybe so, but it might be nice if someone made a condom for us canines. Then we could keep our manhood intact and experience the big bang whenever we wanted, just like humans.”

  Canine condoms. Ellie smiled at the possibilities. They had doggie diapers and female pads, so why not?

  “If we find Buddy, he could be the first test subject. He was already scheduled to live out the rest of his life enjoying the big bang whenever the professor arranged it.”

  “He was, wasn’t he?”

  “Lucky son of a gun.”

  The light changed to green, and she stepped off the curb with Rudy’s question nagging at her brain. A split second later, a speeding taxi careened around the corner, coming so close she felt it brush the tips of her shoes.

  “Hey! We’re walking here!” Passersby didn’t raise their heads, not even when she flipped the driver the bird. Then, taking a calming breath, she checked to make sure they still had the right of way and charged through the crosswalk.

  “That was a close one,” Rudy said when they arrived on the other side of the intersection.

  “No kidding. Now where were we?”

  “On our way to the shelter to ask about Buddy.”

  “Right, exactly right. Come on, let’s go. I still need to call the insurance and bonding companies, and I’m going to make a another round of the neighborhood. Then we’ll take Sweetie Pie and Buckley on their second walk, and meet Dr. Dave at Hazel’s.”

  Ellie headed for the shelter, though her mind continued to process. There had to be something she’d missed about Buddy’s disappearance. But what?

  Chapter 9

  Ellie and Rudy returned to the Davenport in silence. Visiting the place of their first meeting, the East Ninety-second Street ASPCA shelter, was a sobering experience, so intense neither of them had a thing to be happy about. Though the well-maintained building was staffed with dedicated animal lovers, seeing so many homeless dogs, cats, puppies, and kittens angered them both. As usual, Rudy clammed up on the subject, while Ellie stewed as she walked briskly to her afternoon appointments.

  Why was it that humans lost all common sense when it came to dealing with one of the more important aspects of caring for their four-legged friends? Every year hundreds of supposedly intelligent people bought pets unsuitable for cramped city dwellings, then abandoned them when the animals didn’t fit their lifestyles or apartments. Worse, the owners weren’t smart enough to get their dogs or cats neutered or spayed. She’d heard one horror story after another about garbage bags holding unwanted kittens and pups tossed into Dumpsters or thrown in the river, and the unconscionable acts enraged her to tears.

  Scooping poop wasn’t rocket science, but it was a service Ellie knew helped keep owners and their canine companions together. Without competent pet walkers, there was no telling how many New Yorkers would tire of taking their dogs out and cleaning up after them, which could lead to dropping them in the nearest alley or park.

  Striding south on Fifth Avenue she crossed Eighty-third, recalling the volunteer’s advice. There were still no reports of a stray bichon, but the woman was certain the adorable and friendly breed would go to anyone with a calm demeanor and soothing voice. That type of canine always found a home.

  Unfortunately, the police were monitoring the professor’s number, which was on Buddy’s tag, so they’d get word before she would. More important, there was no guarantee that the person who found Buddy would phone the number at all.

  On this visit, the volunteer accepted Ellie’s card and allowed her to post a second flyer in the window, which had her name and phone number as the contact. The volunteer also promised to call if they received any leads, but doubted the dog would turn up.

  Believing he’d been found and taken in by a kindly stranger gave Ellie a smattering of hope, but she’d rest easier when she was absolutely certain Buddy was safe. The not knowing drove her crazy, and she didn’t need any more insanity in her life.

  Now at the Davenport, she and Rudy entered the lobby where they met Kronk, who gave them a wide, menacing grin.

  “El-ee, my friend. Is good to see you. I have big surprise.” He disappeared into the holding area behind the front desk before she could comment and returned seconds later with a quivering, mountain-sized cotton ball in tow. “See what I find. Is lee-til white dog.”

  The behemoth, possibly a Great Pyrenees, jumped up and rested its ham-sized paws on her chest, laying a trail of slobber with its huge pink tongue. She gave the enormous head a pat, ordered the animal down, and glared at the doorman. “This dog in not Buddy.”

  “Is white dog, no?”

  “He’s white, yes, but he weighs about a thousand pounds, and Buddy was fifteen, tops. Where did you find him?”

  The doorman hung his head. “I want to help, so I look for missing dog.”

  “Well, you aren’t helping. Now where did you get this handsome boy?” She ruffled the dog’s shaggy ears, and the fur haystack moaned in pleasure. “I’m sure his owner is hunting high and low for him.”

  The friendly beast gave her a drippy grin. “Home is the German beer joint about ten blocks south of here. My owner hooks me in the alley on cool days, where I was minding my own business, I might add. Next thing I knew, this guy was leading me down the street.”

  She smiled at the pilfered pooch. “You do realize I can hear and understand you?”

  “Same here, and it’s kind of spooky, if you ask me.”

  “I know you hear me, El-ee,” whined Kronk. “I found him in alley near where I live. Is not missing dog?”

  “I just told you no, didn’t I?”

  Kronk’s raised eyebrows and open mouth telegraphed his surprise. “Is impossible!”

  “You are what’s impossible.” She picked through the fur, found the animal’s collar, and searched for a tag. “Great, no identification.” Raising her gaze, she shot him a look of dismay. “You’ll have to take him back to where you stole him from. Right now.”

  “Not stole . . . I rescue. Poor dog was chained, so I liberate. Was not the right thing to do?”

  “If you don’t bring him back I’ll—I’ll call the tavern and tell his owner.”

  “Tavern?” The doorman blinked. “How you know is tavern?”

  “I know plenty,” she blustered. “Now take this dog home.”

  He shrugged. “I cannot leave Davenport.”

  She gazed at the empty lobby, then the newspaper Kronk had been perusing, open on the counter. How difficult could manning the desk be? She held out her hand. “Give me your keys. I’ll take over while you’re gone.”

  “You want I desert my post?” He shook his head. “If anyone knows, I am fired.”

  “What’s worse, getting fired or going to jail for grand-theft canine? His owner has probably called the cops by now.”

  “Nyet! No police.” Kronk frowned, his expression grim as he studied the Great Pyrenees. “I take, but I need cab fare.”

  Ellie ground her molars, fished in her tote bag, and pulled out a twenty. “Here, and I want change. No
w hurry up.”

  After stuffing the bill in his pocket, he fussed with whatever he could find behind the desk. She drummed her fingers on the counter, wishing there was some way to warn every pet lover in Manhattan who owned a white dog to keep it under house arrest. Finally, sulking like a three-year-old, Kronk wrapped the leash—a yard of worn clothesline—in his hand, and led the dog away without a backward glance.

  Just her luck, the surly doorman would probably be gone for hours, and she still had to take two of her charges on a second walk, then meet Dr. Dave at Hazel’s. She gazed at Rudy, sitting patiently at her feet.

  “What do you have to say about this?”

  “Plenty, but it’s all four-letter words.”

  Before she could say more, an older gentleman wearing a bowler hat, fancy suit, and jauntily knotted ascot sauntered to the counter. “Godfrey Harcourt in 2A. I’m here for my dry cleaning, if you please.”

  Between his British accent and overdone outfit, it took a second for Ellie to realize he was speaking to her. “Um, hang on. I’ll check.” She gave Rudy a pleading glance. “Watch the desk, okay? I have to take care of business.”

  Entering the storage area, she surveyed the twelve-by-twelve-foot room. A couple of dozen dry-cleaning orders hung on a rolling garment rack, and she wondered if Randall had curtailed the apartment delivery service after what had happened to the professor. She thumbed through the plastic bags, found Mr. Harcourt’s items, and carried them to the front desk, where she was met by several more tenants.

  She handed the man his clothes and a business card, just in case he had a dog. Before she could address the next person, a Bette Midler clone pushed her way to the front of the line.

  “Darleen Frank. I’m looking for an overnight envelope,” the frumpily dressed woman wheezed. “Do you have it?”

  “I’m ahead of you, Darleen,” said an obviously harassed mother holding a squalling, dark-haired six-month-old. “Be considerate and wait your turn.”

  “Evan Gold, and I was here before either of you,” groused a short man wearing a George Hamilton tan and a scowl. “I need my dry cleaning.”