by MCCOY, JUDI
“Professional courtesy.” He snickered. “Get it? Snakes and lawyers are cut from the same cloth.”
“I get it, and you’re terrible.” She tamped back a smile and opened the door to the outside, where she sagged against the bricks and inhaled a lungful of fresh air. Between the stale atmosphere in the professor’s apartment, the institutional smell of the freight elevator, and the pounding of her heart, her adrenaline was bubbling. She needed to eat lunch and study the bill she’d pilfered from the professor’s apartment.
Walking to Pop’s hot dog cart, she stopped in her tracks when the reality of what she’d done slapped her upside the head. “Oh my God. I’m a thief.”
“You? A thief? Hah!”
“No, really, I am. Wait till you hear what I just did.” She staggered to a bench, plopped down, and held her head in her hands. “If Ryder finds out about this, I’m toast.”
Rudy put a paw on her knee. “Okay, so what did you do?”
She pulled the magazine from her bag and flipped it open. “I stole this invoice from Professor Albright’s desk. It doesn’t belong to me. I had no right to touch it. I could be arrested for tampering with evidence or—”
“That’s doubtful. My guess is they already took everything they needed from the place.”
Rudy’s sensible observation sent a wave of calm coursing through her veins, giving her the courage to thumb through the pages. She found the advertisement section and familiarized herself with its layout, noting the ads were arranged by state. She ran a thumb down the list and scanned the columns.
“We’re in luck. New York City is advertised by boroughs. The Bronx . . . Brooklyn . . . Manhattan . . . And here’s the ad for Buddy’s stud services, with Rita’s query about three boxes down from his in the column.”
“There’s your connection. Now you have to tell Ryder.”
“Tell Ryder? And how do I explain the invoice?”
“He doesn’t have to know about it. Just say the Millcraft woman gave you the magazine, and you forgot to tell him. After all, it’s his fault you weren’t yourself last night and didn’t do the research.”
“And let him know how much he got to me? Not a chance. Besides, I’d rather come to him with something more concrete than these two ads. And I’m still waiting to hear if more champion dogs were stolen.”
“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you when the doo-doo hits the fan.”
She slid the magazine back into her bag. “All right already. I’ll think about it. Come on. It’s time for lunch.”
“And then I nap?”
“As if I could stop you. Besides, I have to phone the bonding and insurance companies before I get into real trouble. Then we’ll need to take another walk through the neighborhood, check with the Humane Society over on Fifty-ninth, and go to the ASPCA again. Someone might have found Buddy since the last time I asked about him.”
“You really think he’s out there somewhere?”
Ellie heaved a sigh. “I have to stay positive, and so do you. I’ll continue to ask questions while you and the others keep your noses to the ground. If he’s on the streets, imagine how frightened he must be. How alone. How sad.”
“And if somebody stole him?”
“Then it’s up to us to find him, no matter what the police say. I keep thinking we’ve missed something. Maybe if I sleep on it, I’ll figure out what it is.”
Chapter 13
That evening, Ellie walked through the entry of the elegant Fifth Avenue high-rise, impressed, as usual, by the building’s ambience and aura of refinement. Georgette had lived in the imposing structure for the past three years, ever since her last divorce catapulted her from the ranks of the well-to-do into the land of the obscenely wealthy. Though she came from a healthy family bankroll, their affluence paled in comparison to what Georgette had accumulated over the past four divorces.
“Go right up, Ms. Engleman.” The doorman greeted her and Rudy with courtesy. “Mrs. Fuller is expecting you.”
Ellie nodded as they passed on their way to the elevator. She made it a point to speak to everyone in a friendly manner, but Orlando scared the bejesus out of her. Though his union insisted on regular days off for its members, he was at his post no matter what time of day or day of the week Ellie stopped by, which made her wonder if he slept or had a personal life. According to her mother, the stalwart doorman guarded the high-rise like his personal kingdom, scheduling cleaning crews, coordinating deliveries, organizing the freight-entrance doormen, and handling anything else needed to keep the building running smoothly.
Thanks to years of city living, she’d learned that each building on the Upper East Side ran things its own way. Some had only a single doorman, like the Davenport and the Beaumont, some a small staff, and many, including Georgette’s pricey high-rise, a contingent of men and women who lived to serve their residents every minute of the day.
The D had always thought a condo on Sixty-sixth and Third a step up in the world, especially because of the unit’s high six-figure purchase price. In contrast to these stately edifices, it was a mere gardener’s cottage on the estate, with no doorman and no special services. From the way Rita Millcraft had talked about her own very nice complex, Ellie felt lucky to have cameras, monitored by an off-site security firm, strategically placed throughout the building.
“Hey, Corinna,” she said when her mother’s live-in housekeeper, a petite woman about the same age as Georgette, opened the door. “What’s new on the home front?”
“Ms. Ellie.” Corinna’s café au lait skin creased in a smile. “I was wonderin’ when you’d show that pretty face of yours. Ms. Georgette, she’s been beside herself about this business with the judge. It took a lot for her to swallow her pride and visit the other night.”
Ellie stepped closer and lowered her voice. “So you know about the proposal?”
“Sakes, yes. Your mama and me share everything. ’Course, it’s not like telling you, you being her daughter and all. She values your opinion.”
“Yeah, right,” Ellie answered with a roll of her eyes.
“Don’t be like that. She let you bring your best man tonight, didn’t she?” Corinna bent and scratched Rudy’s ears. “How you doin’, little boy? You taking good care of your mistress?”
“He’s doing an okay job. And he’s promised to be on his best behavior while we’re here.” She gave the terrier mix a warning smile. “Haven’t you?”
Corinna’s deep contralto soothed her worry over the evening, making her again wonder why the personable and intelligent woman agreed to work for a pain-in-the-butt snob like her mother. She’d finally come to realize Georgette needed the nurturing companionship Corinna gave her, while Georgette filled the hole in Corinna’s life due to the death of her husband.
“You’re something else, the way you talk to that dog. Mark my word, one of these days he’ll answer back, and you’re gonna faint in surprise.”
“If that happened, I probably would,” Ellie told her, biting her tongue at the prophetic statement. They walked from the ornate foyer into the living area. “Where is everybody?”
“Your mama’s fussin’ in the dining room, and the judge is in the library watching one of his favorite game shows on the flat screen. How about you and Rudy go see him, and I’ll tell Ms. Georgette you’re here?”
“Fine, but there’s no hurry. If you have something else to occupy your time—say, taking a nap or finishing the ironing—feel free to do it.”
“You are a pistol,” Corinna responded, shaking her head as she disappeared into the bowels of the apartment.
Ellie tiptoed into the library, fearful of startling Stanley into a heart attack or a second stroke. Not that she’d been the cause of his initial attack, but she was concerned about his fragile health. She breathed a sigh when she saw the eighty-three-year-old former superior court judge sitting in his wheelchair, loudly participating in a popular TV game show.
“W. You want a W, young lady,” he ordered the
contestant spinning the wheel.
“A C,” said the young woman on the screen after she’d landed in the five-hundred-dollar slot, which prompted, “Sorry. There’s no C,” from the host, and a resounding raspberry from the judge.
Sauntering behind him, she planted a kiss on his shiny hairless head.
“Corinna, how many times do I have to tell you, I’m not here to satisfy your crazed sexual desires? You simply aren’t enough woman for me.”
Ellie bent and whispered, “Ah, but I’m just your speed, you old faker. Mentally impaired, pathetic, and dog-tired.”
“Oh, Ellie, it’s you,” he answered with a smile in his voice. “And you’re much too young to be dog-tired.”
Ignoring the fact that he hadn’t quibbled about her being mentally impaired or pathetic, she took a seat on the sofa next to his wheelchair. Rudy stood on his hind legs and rested his front paws on the judge’s knee, and was rewarded with a lively ear rubbing. When the greeting ended, the pooch took his place at Ellie’s feet.
“You look good, Judge.”
“I’m fit as a fiddle, these day, thanks to your mother.” His gray gaze appraised her jacket and sweater in a manner that bore no resemblance to Mr. Seltzer’s leering assessment. “And you’re lovely, as usual. That color suits you.” He turned down the sound on the flat screen. “Georgette will approve.”
“I certainly hope so.” Unlike the other men in her mother’s past, the judge was caring, understanding, and sweet. From the moment Ellie met Stanley she’d felt a kinship of sorts, as if he’d been sent to replace the father she’d lost as a teenager. After she connected with Rudy, she’d become a staunch believer in destiny. The judge’s insightful comments and uncanny way of knowing how much she desired to please her mother only added to her belief.
“How’s the daring new business venture coming along? Still planning to make a living walking dogs for the privileged patrons of Manhattan?”
“I’m trying. And I’m grateful for the encouragement. Your support means the world to me.”
“Last time we talked, you were in the process of obtaining insurance and a business license. How’s that shaping up?”
“Funny you should ask. I took care of it today,” she reported, relieved she’d remembered to make those phone calls. “If the background check pans out, I’ll be fully bonded by the end of the month. I gave your name as a reference, by the way, so be sure to tell them what an upstanding citizen I am if the company gets in touch with you.”
“Of course. I want nothing more than to see you succeed.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded paper. “And before I forget, this is for you.”
“For me?” She opened the thick cream-colored sheet of stationery. “Names and phone numbers?”
“They’re friends and acquaintances. I’ve already spoken to each one personally. They live in the vicinity you want to set up business, and all of them have canines. I’ve asked them to consider you if they’re unhappy with their present dog walker or are planning to buy a dog. The starred names are those of people who intimated they were looking for a change. They expect a call.”
Ellie swallowed back tears. “I—you—you didn’t have to do that for me.”
“It was my pleasure. Besides, I’d love to see your mother’s face when you pay off your debt. I’m aware of how much you hate owing her money.” He winked. “My original offer still stands, you know. I’d be happy to lend you the amount needed to repay her, with no strings. She’d never hear the truth about how you got the cash.”
“Thank you, but no,” Ellie answered, as she had a dozen times before. “I’m managing, and I’m building a clientele base. I’ll be off her list soon enough.”
“Good. And speaking of Georgette . . .” His jovial expression turned questioning. “I assume the two of you have discussed my proposal, and I have your blessing.”
The hope radiating from the judge’s eyes tugged at her heart. “I did everything I could think of to encourage her, though I can’t imagine what you see in my egotistical and totally self-absorbed mother, when you know I’m the right girl for you.”
His cherubic face lighted with a smile. “And if you were thirty years older, I’d be honored to make you mine. Since that isn’t the case, your mother is my second choice.”
Ellie clasped his hand and entwined their fingers. “It’s the lack of a prenup that’s sticking in her craw. On a happier note, I do believe she loves you.”
“Then there won’t be a divorce,” he said with a humph. “And no need for a prenuptial agreement. But if it will make her feel more secure, I’ll comply with her request.”
“Good. You ready for me to wheel you into dinner?”
He heaved a sigh. “In a moment. First, I want your opinion. How much, do you think, will she accept?”
“How much? Jeez, I don’t have the faintest idea. Mother’s set for life, so it could be a smallish amount.”
“Yes, but how small? One million? Two? Ten?”
One, two . . . ten! “Good Lord, Judge,” Ellie blurted. “How wealthy are you?”
“I’ve done quite well for myself over the years,” he replied. “And while we’re on the subject, you should know that once your mother and I are wed, I intend to treat you exactly as I do my own sons where the matter of my estate is concerned.”
“Me? Nuh-uh.” Ellie could tell by the heat creeping up her neck that her face was beet red. “No way.”
“Nonsense. You’re like a daughter to me already. I have plenty of money, and I won’t need it when I’m gone.”
“It’s enough of a burden being Mother’s heir. I don’t want to be one of yours,” she answered, unable to process the idea of profiting from someone’s death. “Besides the fact that your two sons wouldn’t approve, I wouldn’t have the faintest idea what to do with all that green.”
“Give it away.” He nodded at Rudy. “I’m sure your local ASPCA could use the boost, and they deserve it for rescuing this handsome fellow.”
“I’d do anything to help the shelter, but you can leave them money on your own. Better yet, make the donation now—you can do it online. I’ll be happy to investigate the details. Just don’t mention me and your millions in the same breath. It’s morbid. Sick. It’s—it’s—”
He skimmed his jaw with thumb and forefinger. “Not to worry. I’ll figure it out for myself. As long as I have your approval regarding your mother, things will work out fine.”
She heaved a breath, embarrassed at her outburst. “Okay, then, no more talk of money.”
“No more talk. Now about your offer to bring my chariot to the dining room?”
“Great.” She stood and so did her pup. “And remember, our goal tonight is a united front. You, Rudy, Corinna, and I are the four musketeers.” Ellie clasped the wheelchair handles. “Hang on, in case I decide to pop a wheelie.”
Sam detested wakes, funerals, and anything else that had to do with the deceased. Being comfortable around dead bodies was the most difficult part of his job. He’d had to inspect, study, and write reports on so many strangers who had died under catastrophic circumstances that the idea of viewing those he knew casually or, worse, loved had become more a painful chore than an act of sympathy. And though he’d attended plenty of services for fallen comrades, he always had to prepare himself. Death was a natural part of the circle of life, but he didn’t have to like it.
Tonight was no different. He hadn’t spoken to Carolanne’s father in more than two years, but he recalled the man’s fatherly goodwill. When Mr. and Mrs. Jeffers had condemned their daughter for her infidelity, they had caused a family rift that his ex, for reasons known to her alone, believed was Sam’s fault. Her unwillingness to take responsibility for her actions was only one of the reasons they hadn’t been right for each other.
He and his mother paid their respects at the casket, then approached Patricia Jeffers and her daughter. “Patricia, I was sorry to hear about Frank. He was a good man.” He shook the woman�
��s hand. “You remember my mother, Lydia?”
Carolanne greeted them with a frown. “Hello, Sam. Lydia, it’s nice to see you again. I only wish it was under more pleasant circumstances.”
“Carolanne. Patricia,” his mother acknowledged. “We’re sorry for your loss. Frank was a wonderful human being. I’ll never forget the way he treated my son when—”
Sam squeezed her fingers hard.
“When we were at that . . . that Fourth of July barbecue you threw back in 2003. Frank never did give me the recipe for his . . . his baked beans.”
Clutching her daughter’s hand, Patricia nodded through her tears. “Thank you for coming.”
“Is there anything we can do for you?” Sam’s mother asked.
Leave it to Lydia Ryder to offer assistance to an ex-in-law she hadn’t seen in several years, and bring up baked beans in the process, Sam thought. His mother was a firm believer in the healing properties of food for any and all ailments, be they of the mind, body, or heart.
“Ever since my husband passed, I have a lot of free time on my hands,” Lydia continued. “Come for coffee. I’ll make my special cinnamon pecan rolls, and we can sit and talk. You never know when you’re going to need a friendly ear.”
“Your mother sounds lonely,” Carolanne whispered, giving him a tepid smile. “But then, I don’t imagine you have time to sit with her.”
“Leave it be, Carolanne. This isn’t the place to scrape old wounds.”
“It never is,” she countered. “Dating anybody these days?”
Ellie Engleman’s captivating face and wide turquoise eyes popped into his mind, and he quickly suppressed the image. “No. How about you?”
“Two guys,” she said with a smug smile. “One’s a podiatrist, so he keeps regular hours. He’s there for me whenever I need him. The other’s a personal trainer.” She took a step back and twirled in place. “Notice anything new?”
What I notice is a bag of bones. Carolanne’s once respectable figure was now reed thin, her gaunt face troweled with makeup, and her lips plumped to double their usual size. Again, he compared her to his “bad penny” and grinned in spite of himself. “You’ve lost some weight,” he said tactfully.