by MCCOY, JUDI
“You want free coffee? Jeez, Engleman, are you that bad off?” he joked.
“Not me, you dope. I have an idea your competitor doesn’t, and I’m sure it will improve sales. What about offering one of those punch cards with a ‘buy eleven, get the twelfth cup free’ motto printed on it. Hell, I buy so much coffee at your stores you already owe me a free pot.”
“Hmm. Might be something to think about.” He pursed his lips. “Thanks for the idea.”
“In return, maybe you can do me a favor?”
“I’ll try.”
She pulled two flyers from her bag and passed them over the counter. “Hang these in the window of both shops, and ask your customers if they’ve seen a small white dog on the loose. If they say yes, tell them to copy my number off of here and give me a call.”
“Going into search and rescue, are you?”
“Not exactly. The dog belonged to a client, but the client died and the pooch disappeared. If I don’t find him—”
“No one else will bother. I get the picture. Okay, count me in. I’ll have them up by noon.”
Outside, Ellie caught a cab and gave the driver the Marinos’ West Side address. Leaning back in the seat, she sipped her drink and thought about Ryder. She hadn’t called him on this lead, but if she phoned him now, he’d never get there in time to meet her. And there was a possibility she wouldn’t find a connection to Buddy and Jimmy. Better to catch him after she talked to the Marino family. She could tell him about the breeders’ magazine at the same time.
Twenty minutes later, she’d paid the driver, tossed her empty container in a trash basket, and climbed the steps to the Marinos’, where she pressed the buzzer under their name.
“Yes,” said a child’s voice.
“I’d like to talk to Mr. or Mrs. Marino, if they’re home.”
“Mom,” the kid shouted, “it’s for you.”
Seconds later, a woman answered the intercom. “This is Sylvia Marino.”
“Good morning. My name is Ellie Engleman. I just need a minute of your time. It’s about your missing dog.”
The buzzer sounded immediately, and Ellie pushed into the building and glanced at the layout. It appeared to be two apartments per floor, which meant the people living here had plenty of room for both pets and children. She climbed the stairs and steeled herself at the door, then raised her fist to knock. She’d learned from her discussion with Rita Millcraft this was the hardest part of the interview.
When a hand clasped her shoulder, she shrieked.
Though it was his first free Saturday in a month, Sam had too much on his plate to bag everything and relax. Detective Pellicone’s phone call had been interesting, definitely worth consideration, even if the crime had been committed on the opposite side of town.
He hated to lose the prime parking spot he’d snagged last night, so he hopped the subway while he thought about the latest missing dog. The details were too on-target to be ignored. There had to be a connection between the three dognappings, but what? Flipping open his spiral pad, he scanned the pages. Each of the dogs was small, which made them easy to handle. Each was a champion, something canine aficionados admired, and each was stolen after the owners had been zapped as they’d answered the door. With luck, this interview would point him in the direction needed to close this case.
He climbed the subway steps and set out for the Marinos’ building, taking in the bright sunshine, cool, dry air, and clear blue sky. One of these days he was going to find the time to book a plane at that small airfield in Far Rockaway and spring for some fly time. Flying was his only hobby, but he hadn’t been in a plane since the previous fall. A little R & R in the clouds might relieve some of the tension he’d been immersed in of late.
It was either that or find a lady friend and get in a couple rounds of exercise between the sheets.
Fat chance, his mind nagged. A few hours of fly time would never take the place of hot and heavy sex with a willing woman, especially Ellie Engleman, with her killer body, full lips, and wide turquoise eyes.
Acting on those “below the belt” impulses would be a good idea—if the woman in mind was anyone but his personal “bad penny.” The sex he wanted right now had to be uncomplicated, no strings, and just a step up from a one-night stand. He had a gut feeling that wouldn’t be possible with the frustrating dog walker, no matter how much he wanted to jump her bones.
He took the stairs to the brownstone’s entry, found the Marinos’ mailbox, and rang the bell.
“Hello,” said a woman.
“Detective Sam Ryder, New York City PD. I’m here to discuss your missing dog.”
“Didn’t I already ring you up? Come on in,” she said in a sharp tone. The buzzer went off, and he opened the door to the inner foyer. Mrs. Marino sounded short-tempered. Then again, she’d lost a family pet. Remembering Ellie’s silent chastisement when he’d spoken abruptly to Rita Millcraft, he agreed he might not be the most sensitive guy on the planet. Add that to the fact that he had a hard time relating to dog people, every one of whom seemed to be addicted to their canine companion, and he understood the disconnect.
The stairs led to a hallway with a single door on each side. The area was dark, so he didn’t immediately notice the person poised to knock at one of the units. When he did, his breath caught, and his stomach clenched.
Going for surprise, he tiptoed down the hall until he reached his destination and placed a hand on Ellie Engleman’s shoulder. When she jumped and let out a scream, he released her, and she turned, giving him a disdainful stare. Would the woman never learn?
“I don’t believe this. Next time I make an appointment with a lead, how about I just pick you up on the way? It’ll save you cab fare.”
Her expression morphed from shocked to annoyed in a half second. “What are you doing here?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No—yes—I mean—you—you scared the crap out of me. Are you wearing shoes or moccasins?”
He quirked up a corner of his mouth. “Shoes, but I’m light on my feet.” Placing a palm on the doorframe, he leaned toward her. “Want to tell me why you’re here, or are we going to play twenty questions?”
“I meant to call you.” Her face flushed. “I heard about the Marinos and—”
“Thought to beat me to the punch.”
“No, of course not. That vet friend of mine, Dr. Crane? His pal Dr. Lepitsky heard about another dognapping, and they talked about it. I got the message late last night and figured you probably wouldn’t work on a Saturday. I didn’t want to bother you on your day off.”
“So you decided to keep me out of the loop as a professional courtesy? That’s a good one.” Hanging on to his temper, he asked, “Any idea why he’d contact you instead of me?”
“Because he knows I’m looking for Buddy,” she lectured, jutting her chin. “I want to find Professor Albright’s killer as much as you do, but Buddy’s the one who’s still got a chance at salvation, which makes him a priority.”
“I see.” Time to have a talk with the veterinarian, he decided, just as soon as he took care of Ellie Engleman and her continued interference. “Who do the Marinos think you are?”
“I gave my name and asked if I could speak with them about their missing dog. They let me come right up. It’s funny she’s taking her time answering the door.”
No wonder Mrs. Marino sounded annoyed. He was her second caller in a minute, only she thought he was with Ellie and still hadn’t let himself in. “Smart girl, ’cause I’d hate to add impersonating an officer to the charges I’m going to level if I find you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong again.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
She had some nerve acting indignant when he was the wounded party here. “What else do you know about the missing mutt?”
“Gemma’s hardly a mutt. She took best in breed at Madison Square Garden a couple of years back.”
He straightened. “I already know that.”
<
br /> “Then you see the connection?”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“Well, there’s something you don’t know. It’s about—”
Before she could continue, the door opened and an attractive woman, Sylvia Marino, he guessed, stared at them. “I heard you mumbling through the door, and didn’t want to intrude. What’s going on?”
Sam whipped out his badge and raised it for her inspection. “I’m Detective Ryder, Mrs. Marino, and I have a few questions about your missing dog.”
“Did the man find Gemma?” asked a dark-haired girl of about five, who was hanging on to the woman’s knee.
“I don’t know, honey.” Ignoring Ellie, she gazed at Sam through serious brown eyes. “Did you?”
“No, but—”
The child burst into tears and fled down the hall. Mrs. Marino sighed, then stepped back and let them in. “I’m not sure what more I can add to the story. My husband and I gave the detectives every bit of information we had.” She led them into a large living room strewn with toys. A baby wailed in the background, adding to the din her daughter created.
“Take a seat. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Sam recognized one of those skinny, big-busted dolls little girls seemed to dote on, perched on a toy truck, along with building blocks and a few books scattered throughout the room. His gaze slid to Ellie, and their eyes locked. “I don’t want you to say word one. Is that clear?”
“But I haven’t told you everything yet.”
“You told me all I need to know. I’m going to call Dr. Crane as soon as we leave here, and instruct him to put me first on his speed dial, or he’ll be joining you in that jail cell.”
Her eyes opened wide. “You’re joking.”
“Try me.”
Mrs. Marino returned with baby on her hip, and sat in a chair across from them. Balancing the kid on her thigh, she proceeded to unbutton her blouse, pull down her bra, place the child to her breast, and conceal the motherly action with a pale blue blanket. Sam felt like a voyeur, though his being there didn’t seem to bother Mrs. Marino in the least. Pellicone had hinted that the woman was “out there,” and he figured this was the reason why.
Once the baby settled in, the woman raised her head. “What do you want to know?”
He cleared his throat. Where the hell was he supposed to focus now? Was this what he had to look forward to when Sherry had her kid? “Um . . . I understand your missing poodle is a champion? Worth a lot of money?”
“Even though Gemma had tremendous success in the show ring, she was a family pet first. My grandmother bred toy poodles, and Gemma was pick of the litter so we could keep the bloodline in the family. My daughter, Kayla, loves her to pieces, and Ben here was coming to love her, too. I was in bed when it happened, nursing my son, and Kayla was asleep. Phil heard a knock, thought it might be one of our neighbors, and left to answer the door. Gemma followed him out. A minute or two later, I heard a thud and the slamming of a door.” She peeked under the blanket, then raised her gaze. “I called to him, but didn’t get an answer, so I put the baby in his crib and went to investigate. Phil was flat on his back in the hall.”
“Then what?” Sam asked, scribbling details on his pad.
“At first, I thought he’d been knocked out. After a few minutes’ encouragement, he came around, and I helped him up. He claimed he’d been hit with a stun gun or something like it, because the second he grabbed the knob to open the door an electric shock laid him out flat.” Sylvia swiped at a tear. “It was then we realized Gemma was gone. Phil ran into the hall but didn’t see her, so he told me to call the police while he scoured the building.”
The baby made a noise, and she peeked under the blanket again. Sam glanced at Ellie and smiled when he saw her pink cheeks and embarrassed expression.
Stop that, she mouthed when she caught his teasing grin.
He wrote another line in his notebook, then said to Sylvia, “So there was no trace of the dog?”
“No, and it took another hour for the detectives to show, during which time my husband continued to scope out the building and the street in front of the apartment. He referred to it as a ‘hit and run,’ because whoever took Gemma knew their way in and out of the complex.”
“Do you use a dog walker?” Sam and Ellie asked in unison.
He shot Ellie a scowl meant to quell the most persistent of pests, but she paid him no mind.
“I’m only asking because it’s usually easy for them to get inside a building unnoticed,” Ellie said, making a point of concentrating on Mrs. Marino.
“I’m a stay-at-home mom, so Gemma got walked when I escorted Kayla to preschool and when I picked her up, but a couple of the other tenants use walkers. We gave the police their names, and I assume the officers checked it out.”
“Would you mind giving me their names? I’m a dog walker, too, and I might know them.”
Mrs. Marino raised a winged brow. “A dog walker? I thought you were with the police?”
“I lost a client the same way you lost Gemma, and I—”
“It’s a long story,” Sam interrupted. “And I’ll get the names from Pellicone.” He gave Ellie a warning frown, and she had the nerve to toss him a dirty look. “Where’s your husband right now?” he asked Sylvia.
“At his office. He’s a writer for a local television program.” Mrs. Marino named a popular afternoon talk show, then took her time shifting the baby to her other breast. “The theft has taken a toll on our daughter,” she added in a quiet voice. “On all of us, if you must know.”
Sitting forward on the sofa, Ellie asked, “Have you received a ransom note or a phone call asking for money?”
“No.” Sylvia paled. “Do you think that’s what this is? That someone is holding Gemma for ransom?”
“I don’t know, but here’s another question.”
Sam put his hand on Ellie’s knee and squeezed, but she kept on chatting.
“Did you plan to breed her?”
“We were considering it. We put an ad in a breeders’ magazine, just to see what kind of offers we got. If the dog was worthy of our line, we were going to let my grandmother handle it, but she’s getting up in years, so I thought it might be fun to try doing things on my own.”
Sam stood and took Ellie’s hand, pulling her to her feet. “I think that’s all the questions for now.” Sylvia fiddled with the blanket, and he raised a hand. “Don’t get up. We’ll see ourselves out.”
Steering Ellie ahead of him, he turned in the living room doorway. “And I’m sorry for the loss of your dog. We’ll do everything in our power to see that she’s returned.”
As soon as they were out of Sylvia Marino’s sight, Ellie wrenched her elbow from Sam’s grasp and marched out the apartment door. It was bad enough he’d caught her disobeying a direct order; watching Sylvia Marino, a very pretty woman, nurse her baby in front of him was mortifying. And he’d had the nerve to grin at her, as if he was thinking . . .
It didn’t matter what he’d been thinking, she told herself. The important thing was that she’d tried to tell him she had more information, but he wouldn’t listen. When she had brought it up with Sylvia, he had acted as if she didn’t know what she was talking about. After his overbearing treatment, she’d throw snowballs in August before she filled him in on the magazine and anything else she deemed pertinent to the case.
Trotting down the stairs, she heard, “Engleman! Wait a second,” but kept going. Unfortunately, Sam caught up with her as she slammed out of the building.
“You got a problem taking orders?” he asked, clasping her elbow a second time.
Spinning around, she jerked from his grip. “This isn’t a branch of the armed forces, so I didn’t think ‘taking orders’ is the proper term.” She jogged to the sidewalk and headed for home. Hiking a couple of miles would help work off her anger and frustration, plus keep her from whacking him on the head if he touched her again.
“Hang on,” he shouted, catchi
ng up to her.
She kept on walking.
“Hey.” He two-stepped in front of her, and they danced from side to side. “Ellie, wait.”
Blowing out a breath, she stood still and met his heated gaze. “What?”
“What do you mean, what? I’m trying to talk to you.”
“I don’t think we have anything to say to each other. In fact, the sound of my voice seems to get you so angry you won’t let me finish a sentence.”
He stuffed his hands into the pocket of his leather jacket. “Sorry about that.”
When he moved over to clear the walkway, she moved with him, waiting for the tirade to continue. A breeze ruffled his blond curls, and she noted he’d gotten a haircut. He grinned boyishly and she sighed. At least he’d stopped yelling.
“I thought we had ironed out your part in all this,” he began.
She focused on his broad chest, remembered how hard and demanding it had felt under her fingers, and met his whiskey-colored eyes again. “I do understand. My job is to find Buddy. I can’t help it if our paths cross in the process.”
“I asked you politely—”
“You demanded. There’s a difference.”
“You mean all I had to do was say, ‘Pretty please, Ms. Engleman, keep your nose out of my case,’ and you wouldn’t be here right now?” He raised a brow. “Why is it I doubt that?”
She opened and closed her mouth. Damn, but she hated being wrong, even when she was. “I’m not doing anything dangerous, so what’s it to you?”
“It’s my responsibility to look into matters. When you show up and run an inquisition, it appears as if I’m unable to do my job. I’m trained to take statements, examine what was said, and come to a conclusion. And no matter what you say, you could be in danger.”
“How?” She put her hands on her hips. “We’ve already agreed my dog is not the breed that would interest a kidnapper.”
“So you admit you’re looking for the kidnapper, which translates into a murderer?”