by MCCOY, JUDI
A few more tenants joined the fray, elbowing to get Ellie’s attention. She let them squabble while she ducked down and snagged Darleen’s envelope from a shelf under the counter. “Is this what you want?”
The woman swiped the packet and disappeared.
The baby wailed again, louder. “Please. There should be a package from Amazon,” insisted the mother, her face as red as the screaming child’s. “Bethany Jordan. 4C.”
“My dry cleaning,” the George Hamilton clone reminded her in a clipped tone.
Ellie rolled her eyes, rushed to the storage room, and snared Mr. Gold’s clothing. Spotting a box bearing the online bookseller’s name sitting on a shelf, she tucked it in her other hand, hurried to the lobby, and set both items on the counter.
“Thanks.” The frazzled mother swept up the parcel and Ellie’s card, and hurried off. The tanning bed devotee ignored her offer of a card, grabbed his plastic-shrouded hangers, and turned without a word.
Before she knew it, a throng of restless residents crowded the desk, all speaking at once.
“Where’s Mr. Kronkovitz?”
“Who are you, and where’d you learn to do this job?”
“You sure don’t look like any doorman I’ve ever seen.”
“I’m writing a letter. The service here is abominable.”
Insulted by the accusing comments, Ellie brushed a curl from her forehead, stuck two fingers in her mouth, and gave an ear-shattering whistle, leveling the racket to a whisper. “Okay, everybody, listen up! Form a line and pretend you’re reasonable human beings, or no one is getting a thing.”
Amazingly, the mob obeyed. Slapping on a gracious smile, she found her rhythm and cleared the testy tenants in fifteen minutes. Pleased with the peace and quiet, she decided she couldn’t wait any longer to take care of her real job. Searching the lower shelf, she grabbed a piece of poster board and folded it in half, wrote BACK IN FORTY-FIVE MINUTES in block letters on one side, and propped it on the counter.
She had just enough time to collect her charges, take them out, and return before Dr. Dave’s arrival. If he showed up while she was gone, she’d meet him at Hazel’s, where she would ask if he’d heard anything about Buddy’s disappearance in the last twenty-four hours.
Ellie delivered Sweetie Pie to her apartment and dropped Buckley at his, assuring Hazel she’d be back up soon and so would Dr. Dave. Now back in the lobby, she asked Rudy to stand guard while she inspected the note she’d left on the counter. She bit the inside of her cheek when she saw that a disgruntled tenant had scrawled MANAGEMENT WILL HEAR ABOUT THIS on her makeshift sign while, in different handwriting, someone had added DITTO FOR ME.
Positive the past disastrous hour would not have occurred if Kronk hadn’t stolen the Great Pyrenees, she tore the sign in two and dropped it in the waste-basket. Let the big idiot field questions and comments from the tenants’ association. It served him right for being so dishonest.
She checked her watch. Where the hell was the devious doorman? With nothing else to do, she gazed at the newspaper still open on the desk and skimmed the first few pages, hoping to find a follow-up story on the professor’s death. Knowing Ryder, he’d slip details of the investigation to a nosy reporter before he’d share a shred of information with her, even though Buddy was at risk.
“Don’t tell me you’re the doorman on duty,” a voice from across the counter asked.
Prepared for more problems, she raised her head and was captured by the beguiling brown eyes of Dr. David Crane, vet to many of the dogs and cats on the Upper East Side.
“Only temporarily,” she answered, returning his smile. “It’s nice to see you again.”
He set a black leather bag on the desktop. “Same here. Am I interrupting something?”
“Not really. Kronk, the evening doorman—”
“Big guy with an accent and an attitude?”
“You got it. He’s running an errand, and he asked me to give him a hand.” She took another look at her watch. “Ms. Blackberg’s expecting you, so go up if you want.”
He rested his elbows on the counter. “I thought you were supposed to join me.”
“I’ll be there eventually, but I’m sure you’ll do fine. Hazel’s over the moon about Buckley. She just wants someone sane to make sure she doesn’t go off the deep end with demands, if you get my drift.”
“Oh, I get it all right,” said the vet, his eyes twinkling. “She treats her dog like her only child and expects everyone else to do the same. Believe me, about seventy-five percent of my clients act that way. I’m used to it.”
“I hear it a lot, too,” Ellie confessed, embarrassed to admit the vet had just described her, as well. “My customers give me detailed instructions on how to walk their darlings, as if I was a babysitter and their dog a newborn. I don’t know how you get a thing done with them watching your every move.”
“You take it in stride.” He ran a hand through his thinning hair, then slung the strap of his bag over a shoulder. “So, you’ll meet me up there?”
“It’s 3G. I shouldn’t be too long.”
He walked to the elevator, and Ellie took note of the way his snug jeans cradled his butt. His face was as handsome as she remembered, his smile as unassuming, his demeanor as warm. A totally nice guy. And he loved dogs. She sighed. Too bad there was no tremor of excitement when she talked to him, the way there was when she locked horns with Ryder.
Then again, Dr. Dave wasn’t out to send her ass to jail.
A couple walked into the lobby, nodded in her direction, and reached the elevator as the door was closing. Dr. Dave held the car, impressing her even more. Most New Yorkers didn’t have the patience to allow others on ahead of them, never mind hold the door.
Moments later, a gust of air swept through the foyer, and Kronk charged in like an enraged bull. Stomping to the desk, he set his hands on his hips. “Is done.”
“Good.” Ellie stretched out her palm. “My change?”
“No change.” Moving to her side of the desk, he folded his arms and nudged her out of the way. “You go now.”
She narrowed her gaze. “What did you do? Ride to Battery Park and back?”
“Is far. I add my own hard-earned money to fare.”
“To go ten blocks?”
“Who said is ten blocks?” He furrowed his brow. “You spy on Kronk?”
“Never mind.” Aware the conversation would go nowhere, she reined in her temper, grabbed Rudy’s leash, and skirted the front desk. “Don’t let it happen again.”
“I only want to help,” he said, his tone less challenging.
Just then, Eugene and Bibi plowed through the front door and swept past the counter in a rush. Not thrilled with having to share the ride up with them, Ellie waited while they pressed the CALL button and gave her nasty sidelong glances.
When the door closed, Kronk muttered, “Those two big trouble.”
Could the thieving doorman actually be a decent judge of character? “Why do you say that?”
“They go up with dogs and don’t come down for long time. Is, how you say, suspicion?”
“I believe the proper word is ‘suspicious,’ ” Ellie corrected, remembering her morning encounter with Bibi. “And you’re probably right.” When the floor indicator stopped, telling her where Bibi and Eugene were picking up their first customers, she hurried over and hit the button. Let them wait while she rode to Hazel’s apartment.
She and Rudy arrived at 3G, saw the partially open door, and accepted the obvious invitation to come inside. In the foyer, she heard voices drifting from the living room and made her way down the hall.
“I’m not available during the day, and my little man just loves Ms. Engleman to pieces. If any treatment is necessary, I want her to have full authority, after she confers with me via telephone, of course.”
“If that’s what you want, I’ll draw up a waiver and have you sign it,” Dr. Dave said. “I’ll mail it to you, and you can send it back.”
> Ellie heard paper rustling and sighed. Hazel had just tossed a huge responsibility in her lap without asking permission. If something went wrong with Buckley and she made a bad decision . . .
Too late now, she figured, and stuck her head around the corner. “Hi. Sorry I’m late,” She led Rudy into the neat and stylish living room, and guessed Hazel must have used a cleaning service to put things to right since moving day. The well-endowed woman, wearing a voluminous dress covered in what appeared to be purple and green flowers, sat on the sofa while the vet lounged in a wing chair with Buckley on his lap. “Are you two getting acquainted?”
“Sure are,” said Dr. Dave. “I’ve already given Buckley a quick exam and pronounced him in perfect health, but he’s on the hefty side. Ms. Blackberg now has the name of a low-calorie dog food, and I’d like Buckley to have a little extra walk time each day, if that’s not too much trouble.”
“Can you believe it? He’s puttin’ me on a friggin’ diet,” whined the Maltipoo.
Ellie smothered a laugh. “It’s not a problem. All my charges could use a few more minutes on their feet.”
“I’m not doing any wind sprints. Remember that next time we’re out.”
Dr. Dave stood and passed the dog to Hazel, then shook her hand. “And go easy on the treats. One a day, if he’s been a really good boy.” The vet stroked the Maltipoo’s head, ignoring the petite pooch’s threatening growl. “I’ll send my bill with the waiver. You have my card, so call me if you have questions. Ms. Engleman and I will see ourselves out.”
Ellie held her tongue until they were in the hall. “I can’t believe she’s giving me power of attorney over her boy.”
“So you heard part of our discussion?”
“I heard. What was she thinking?”
He chuckled good-naturedly. “She was thinking you’re a fine caretaker. She sees you as competent and thoughtful, probably from the way you handle your own dog. And I’m sure she’s talked to other tenants in the building.”
Though still a bit miffed, Ellie couldn’t help swelling with pride. “I’ve only been walking their dogs for a month, some less. How do they know I’m treating their pet right? And the police didn’t help, grilling my customers about me after the professor died.”
He pressed the elevator CALL button. “I doubt any of them think you had a thing to do with Albright’s death. I don’t.”
She met his smiling face. “What, exactly, have you heard about me?”
“Word is you’re prompt, you don’t invade a client’s space, and you perform additional services without charge. None of your customers have any complaints.” He let her enter the elevator first. “Besides, I know how worried you are about Buddy. I’m sure they do, too.”
She gave herself a mental reminder to take her charges on an extra-long stroll tomorrow. “It’s nice to know, but I don’t have that many clients.”
“The street vendors talk, too, as does Randall. And I’ve already spoken to a police detective—”
“You talked to Ryder about me?”
“Yes, and don’t panic. He called me in for questioning this afternoon. Apparently they found one of my bills in the professor’s apartment and realized I’d examined Buddy a few days before the incident. He just wanted to go over a couple of things.” The vet leaned against the car wall. “Detective Ryder made it clear he knows your main concern is Buddy’s safety, and asked my professional opinion on your theory.”
“I suppose I should be grateful he’s even considering my dognapping scenario.”
“He’s considering it, especially since I gave him reason to see it your way.”
“What have you heard that I haven’t?” Ellie asked, trying for calm. “Does someone you know have information on Buddy?”
“Not Buddy, specifically, but after you and I talked, I spoke to a vet pal of mine, and he said one of his patients, a miniature schnauzer, was stolen a week ago, in pretty much the same way as our missing bichon.”
“You mean someone else was killed?” Jeez, things were getting dangerous for dog owners in this town. “How come it wasn’t in the papers?”
“Because no one died. But the owner was knocked flat on her butt when she answered the buzzer. She woke up twenty minutes later with a massive headache and her champion schnauzer gone. Since there was no need for Homicide to get involved, Ryder hadn’t been informed. It seems Manhattan detectives have their hands full. If one case isn’t directly linked to another, they’re kept separate.”
“Who handled the other dognapping?”
“Someone in stolen property. And according to my friend, the police aren’t doing much. Missing dogs, even best-in-show winners, aren’t as important to them as stolen jewelry or other private property.” They entered the lobby. “If you’ve got time for a cup of coffee, I can go over the rest of it.”
This is not a date, Ellie told herself, merely a meeting to exchange information. “There’s a Joe to Go a couple of blocks from here, on the way to my apartment.”
“Sounds good to me,” he said, opening the Davenport’s front door. “My treat.”
Sam hung up the phone and muttered a curse. If there was one thing he hated, it was looking like a fool, but that was exactly the way he felt. Good thing David Crane had given him the skinny on another vet’s patient, or he wouldn’t have known to contact Ragusa and Taylor, a pair of detectives working Stolen Property.
But the pieces were finally falling into place. According to Ragusa, a week earlier one of their victims answered the door before leaving for work and didn’t remember a thing until she woke up twenty minutes later and found her dog missing.
He scanned his notes. The kidnapped dog, Forsythe’s Valor of something or other, was a champion best in show, the same as Albright’s mutt, and though not a winner at Westminster, he was small enough to hide under a coat or carry in a tote bag. Heartsick over the loss, the woman hadn’t received a ransom request, which she gladly would have paid if asked.
The detectives had found a charred area around the doorknob and sent the sample to forensics, and were still waiting for results. Other than that, they had no leads.
Sam flipped through his in-box, noting the toxicology results for the professor had yet to arrive, but he doubted they’d turn up anything unusual, and it was too late in the day to talk to Bridges. Besides, the ME did her job. She’d send him a report the moment she finished it.
He checked the name and number of the new victim. Her apartment was about fifteen blocks south of Albright’s, in a nice but not exclusive neighborhood, and he imagined she’d be home from work by now. After pushing from his desk, he shrugged into his coat. None of the other officers assisting on the professor’s case had turned up a thing. The victim’s neighbors respected him, his associates at the college admired him, and his students worshipped him. His niece had insisted no one would have a reason to do her uncle harm, and Sam had to agree.
Much as he hated to admit it, Ellie Engleman’s theory was sounding more and more like the motive for his murder.
He signed off on the duty board and walked outside. The evening was cool, but spring was definitely in the air. The sidewalks were still teeming with people, and the street was clogged with vehicles. Before long every nutcase in Manhattan would be out in the evening, causing the police more trouble.
He’d joined the force right out of college, after majoring in criminal justice. Originally, he’d hoped to become a lawyer, but found he lacked the patience to deal with the backed-up judicial system and the mountain of red tape needed to prove someone innocent or guilty of a crime. This case was the kind he enjoyed. He liked the brainpower needed to put the pieces together. He looked forward to the hunt and the actual capture of the bad guys, and savored the satisfaction of knowing he’d arrested the right party.
He even liked the people he met. Some were interesting, a few certifiable, but every once in a while someone fascinating came along, someone who intrigued him, challenged him, and made him wonder. The a
nalogy so perfectly fit Ellie Engleman, he had to smile.
Though she seemed to thrive on sticking her nose where it didn’t belong, she had a unique sense of humor and wasn’t afraid to give her opinion, even if it was somewhat nutty. If he had a few free moments, it might be worth spending a little personal time with her instead of giving her grief. He was relieved she wasn’t the missing schnauzer’s dog walker. That would have been way too coincidental.
Leaving the parking lot, he headed south. After a quick interview with Rita Millcraft, he’d be through for the day. Too bad it wasn’t family-dinner night, because he actually had time to stop at his mother’s for a good meal.
Chapter 10
Ellie’s nondate with David Crane was relaxing, pleasant and to use a familiar phrase, shorter than a New York minute. Though his personality was amicable and his looks appealing, he was also a tad boring. After they’d shared information on the missing canine, they had little to discuss except the weather. But two positive things came out of the meeting: Ellie got a free cup of coffee, and she found out more about the kidnapped schnauzer than she ever would have learned from Ryder, including the name of the dog’s owner and his vet.
She fed Rudy, left him home to snooze, and headed for Rita Millcraft’s apartment, her fingers crossed that the woman would agree to speak to a stranger. Any bit of information she received might add a piece to the puzzle of Buddy’s disappearance and the professor’s death, and that would bring her a step closer to solving this case.
Solving this case? She marveled at the realization of what she was doing. In her year of searching for a meaningful career, she’d never thought of becoming a private investigator, yet it seemed to be her latest undertaking. Perhaps she’d bitten off more than she could chew in her quest to find the missing dog, but somebody had to move things along, especially since Ryder didn’t seem to be making headway.
She rehearsed opening lines as she walked to her destination, where she planned to introduce herself to Ms. Millcraft without frightening her or giving her false hope. But Ellie was positive of one thing: If Rudy had been stolen, she’d want to know there were people committed to locating her missing pal—people who understood how devastating the loss of a beloved pet could be.