by MCCOY, JUDI
“Believing there’s a kidnapper is the only thing that’s allowed me to fall asleep at night since this episode began. Because if there isn’t—” Her head started to spin. What didn’t the man understand? “Buddy just has to be alive.”
He frowned and gazed skyward, then looked her in the eyes. “What if I said I thought you were right?”
“You do?”
“I hate to admit it, but yes, I do. I’m also riding your bandwagon—find Buddy and I’ll find Albright’s killer.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Then what’s your problem?”
“My problem.” He shook his head. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m paid to do a job, and you’re interfering. Plus, I don’t want you to get hurt.” He took her hand, and she forgot to whack him for it. “You’re an okay lady.”
Uh-oh. She tugged, but he’d entwined their fingers. When she started to speak, he headed up the street bringing her along with a determined stride. “How about lunch?”
He was talking food? “We did that the other night.”
“That was dinner. This is lunch. We can sit and eat while you tell me what you were trying to tell me in the Marino’s apartment. I’ll listen and consider.”
They were halfway across the park before she realized it. “Where do you want to eat?”
“Anyplace is fine. You must know a few good restaurants.”
“I like burgers and fries.”
“Who doesn’t?” he asked, smiling.
“The Wickery is good. It’s nice enough to eat outside, and it’s just over on Lexington.”
“Sounds good. Lead the way.”
Chapter 15
The Wickery, one of Ellie’s favorite restaurants, was located next to a day spa she’d frequented when the D insisted she be polished, painted, and primed for his business functions. Someday, when she had extra cash and free time, she’d return for a facial or—Heck, no. What was she thinking? There was a new man in her life—one she cared for deeply.
Instead, she’d bring Rudy to Pampered Pets Inc. over on Sixty-ninth for a proper grooming and massage or maybe a treatment in the whirlpool. Manhattanites were suckers for their dogs, and she was no different. Viv had mentioned the two of them taking their boys together, but Ellie never had the money. Now that her business was on the rise, she might be able to swing it.
“Is there a particular reason you’re smiling?” asked Sam, intruding on her thoughts.
“What? Oh, sorry. No, I was just thinking about my dog.”
“You mean your mini-Cujo?”
“He’s very sweet, just overprotective where I’m concerned. I don’t think he’d bite anyone unless I was threatened.”
“Uh-huh,” Sam answered, his expression doubtful.
The waiter stopped to take their order, and they asked for the same thing: a burger smothered in blue cheese with fries and cole slaw.
“You never cease to surprise me,” he confided.
“Surprise you? In what way?”
“Your lunch. It’s not something many women would order.”
“I know I’m not a size six but—”
“Hey, as I said before, I like a woman who eats.”
“I burn a lot of calories with all the walking I do,” she added, not sure he meant what he said.
“And it shows. You have dynamite legs.” He grinned. “The rest of you is pretty good, too.”
She bit her tongue, positive she was supposed to tell him he was a cretin, but the observation made her warm and fuzzy inside. “Thanks . . . I think.”
“You’re welcome.” He took a drink of beer, then said, “Time to come clean, Engleman. What did you want to tell me at the Marinos’?”
With no more evasive tactics up her sleeve, Ellie explained about the breeders’ magazine she’d received from Rita Millcraft and filled him in on the advertisements. But she wasn’t about to explain the part about using Randall’s key to steal the professor’s invoice. It might get Randall in trouble, and she could be thrown in jail for breaking and entering, when she hadn’t exactly done either one.
“And you were keeping the information a secret because . . .”
“I wasn’t keeping it a secret. I had every intention of telling you, but you wouldn’t let me get a word in.”
He thinned his lips. “And I apologized, so let it go and tell me about the magazine. Would a canine lover get Breeder’s Digest through a subscription, or is it available anywhere?”
“Rita had a subscription, but I don’t know about Professor Albright. Since I’m not into dog breeding, I’ve never had to search for the publication.”
“Where’s the copy Millcraft gave you?”
“At home. If we don’t find it at the PetCo, you can have my copy.”
“Great. I’ll call the magazine and ask for their subscriber bank. The computer guys can run the list through the system and pull out the names of whoever lives in New York.”
She gave herself a mental slap in the head. She should have thought of that trick herself. What kind of private eye was she, anyway? “I didn’t realize—”
“That the police department can do a number of things ordinary citizens can’t?” he interrupted. “If you watched a few cop shows on TV, you’d know that.”
She blew out a breath. “I’m acquainted with databases. I just didn’t apply it to police procedure, is all.”
“Hang on. Are you admitting I thought of something you didn’t? Wait a second while I mark the date on my calendar,” he said smugly. “And don’t tell me you agree that this city’s police department is capable of doing something intelligent.”
“Looks like it,” she retorted. If the dastardly detective was this chatty all the time, maybe she wouldn’t break into a sweat whenever they were together.
The waiter brought their burgers, and they concentrated on their food. Then Ellie caught him gazing at her, and her insides twitched. “So . . . um . . . how do we handle things in the store?”
He leaned back, snagged a French fry, and dragged it through the ketchup pooled on his plate. “Simple. I talk to a couple of clerks and ask if they remember anyone buying the magazine. You can help if you promise to behave.” With that, he popped the fry into his mouth and chewed.
“Behave? What are you suggesting?”
“It’s not an insult,” he said after swallowing. “I’m making a deal. We work together on this lead. I’ll quiz the staff while you check out the book rack and see if they carry the magazine. Take a look at whatever else is similar, make sure that’s the only ad the professor and Millcraft posted, and see if the Marinos advertised, too. How about it?”
“Are you suggesting a partnership?”
“Don’t get excited. It’s just for this one project. Think of it as a thank-you for telling me about the magazine.”
“Excuse the pun, but throwing me a bone for giving you a lead isn’t necessary.” When he didn’t comment, she grew indignant. “This might be the break we—you—need to blow the case wide-open. If I’d kept the information to myself, you’d still be wondering which end is—”
“Take it easy. I would have gotten to this point on my own, soon enough. And consider this. You’re at a dead end unless you have access to a system that can connect you to the publisher, or a court order asking them to release the records.” He raised a brow. “Do you?”
There he was, being right again. “No.”
“I rest my case.” He grinned as if he’d pinned her to the mat. “Do we have a deal?”
“Sure, fine.” Ellie finished the last of her burger and pushed away from the table. The bill had already been delivered, and as far as she was concerned, the smart-ass could pay the check. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to the restroom.”
They reached the pet store fifteen minutes later. Inside, Sam gave her a warning glance. “Remember what we agreed on. You do your job, and I’ll do mine.”
He strode toward a checkout counter, while she wandered to the magazine section and scann
ed the ads in Dog Fancy, Pet Journal, Gun Dog, Dog and Kennel , Canine Review, and a dozen other periodicals. There were magazines specific to Akitas, Samoyeds, Bezengis, cocker spaniels, and a host of other breeds, but there were none on poodles or bichons. And the magazine she needed, Breeder’s Digest, was nowhere to be found.
Peeking around an end cap, she spied Sam speaking intently to a female clerk. The man was such a flirt, it was a wonder she’d ever considered . . . what she’d considered. She’d heard of people hooking up at a Borders, but a pet store? Maybe if somebody warned the salesgirl that he didn’t like canines, she wouldn’t be so eager to please.
Ellie turned a corner and found herself in the pet-food aisle. Recalling that Rudy’s supply was running low, she reached for a sack of his favorite kibble, a brand made especially for smaller breeds, and bumped into a man aiming for the same bag.
“Oh, sorry,” she said, taking a step of retreat.
“No, no, my fault.” The customer passed her a sack. “Here, ladies first.”
Glancing at him, Ellie smiled a thank-you. “It’s Gil, isn’t it?” she said to the Liquid Ice man. “I’m Ellie. We met yesterday.”
“At the Davenport, right? You were taking the freight elevator, and I was coming in with a delivery.”
“That’s correct.”
He focused on the kibble. “That for your little guy?”
“It’s his favorite. I guess your pal likes it, too.”
Gil retrieved another bag from the shelf. “Ah, yeah. It’s expensive stuff, but they’re worth it.”
“You have more than one? What kind are they?”
He squinted, as if thinking. “A bit of everything. Heinz fifty-sevens, I guess. But they’re small, like your guy.”
“The little ones are the best.” Funny, but he hadn’t mentioned owning a dog when they’d talked. Of course, he might have, and she’d been too busy fleeing the scene of a crime to remember. It didn’t matter, because she had to find Sam. “It was nice talking to you.”
“Same here,” said Gil, sauntering away.
She meandered to the end of the aisle and spotted the cashier Sam had been speaking to ringing up an order, so she headed for the aisle stacked with canine gear. Raincoats, booties, sweaters with hoods and without, T-shirts with slogans and cartoons, even ball caps, bow ties, and headbands, lined the Peg-Board wall. On the opposite side hung leashes of every size and color, paisley and print, leather, mesh, and cord, along with matching collars and other dog paraphernalia.
After failing to find a collar Twink would accept as a substitute for gold chains, she fingered a red hat, its brim embroidered with the Yankees insignia. Rudy would ignore her for a week if she brought it through the door, and he certainly wouldn’t wear it. Ditto a bow tie or T-shirt.
“You’re buying your dog a hat?”
She jumped at the sound of Sam’s taunting voice. “Yeah, and a tuxedo to go with it.” She returned the ball cap to the rack. “Don’t be ridiculous. Rudy would give me hell if I brought home anything on this wall.”
Sam gave a half smile. “And just how would he do that?”
Oops. “First off, he’d probably run under the bed and hide. And if I did manage to slip whatever it was on him, he’d shake it off, find a place where I couldn’t reach him, and tear it to shreds . . . or something.”
“Then he’s smarter than I thought.” Sam nodded toward a group of brightly colored leads printed with tiny flowers. “Leashes for girl dogs, boy dogs, clothes . . . They even sell costumes.” He held up a bride’s dress and veil. “Who the hell in their right mind would dress a mutt in one of these?”
Not Ellie, but she’d viewed plenty of doggie nuptials on Animal Planet. “It’s just for fun. People who love their pets treat them like family.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, as if taking a stand. “Dogs aren’t human.”
“Tell that to the people who love them.” When he’d first made his position on canines clear, she’d been angry. Now she simply felt sorry for him. “Everybody needs someone to love. For those who don’t have a person in their lives, a dog is a great substitute.”
“If you say so.” He glanced at the bag of kibble. “I take it you didn’t have any luck with the magazines.”
“No. How about you?”
“Two of the clerks know the publication exists, but the store doesn’t carry it. Said I should try to find them online if I want to subscribe. That means my next stop is your place.”
My place? Oh, yeah. She had mentioned the magazine was at her apartment. “Let me pay for this. Then we can go.”
Sam grabbed the plastic sack holding the kibble while Ellie paid the clerk; then he followed her out of the store.
“You don’t have to carry that for me,” she said when they reached the sidewalk.
“It’s no big deal.”
“I can cart my own stuff,” she insisted, trying to snatch the bag.
“I know you can.” They arrived at a corner, and he shifted the sack to his other hand, took hold of her elbow, and steered her across the street. “You’re place is a couple of blocks from here, right?”
“One up and two over.” She fell in step beside him. “I take it you’ll be going to the precinct this afternoon?”
“This is supposed to be my day off, but I’m always on call. Some days are better than others.”
“Tough job.”
“I don’t complain.” And I don’t get involved with anyone who can’t understand that, he wanted to say. He glanced over and found her walking with her hands in her pockets, her mouth set in a frown. “Am I interrupting your plans by inviting myself to your place?”
They stopped at a red light and stood amid a throng of restless pedestrians. “Not really. But Rudy’s been home alone for a couple of hours. He gets testy if I’m not back when I said I’d be.”
“Testy? You talk about him as if he can tell time or understands when you give him a message.”
“Not quite, but we do have a mental connection.” They crossed the street. “Now he’s assisting with my career.”
“A career guru? How’s that?”
She grinned. “He’s a great shill. With Rudy at my feet, no one doubts I love dogs, and he makes friends with all my charges. It helps ease the uncertainty of those first few days, when a dog has to interact with a new group of friends.”
“I don’t mean to pry, but does walking five or six dogs really give you enough income to live here?” He couldn’t afford even a studio apartment in Manhattan. “This is one of the better areas in the most expensive city in the state.”
“Not yet, but my business is growing, and I have a mother wealthy enough to support a small country. I owe her, big-time, but I’ll pay her back. It’s my first priority.”
Impressed by her attitude, Sam said, “Sounds like you have a handle on your life. Good for you.”
“I’m thirty-one years old. It’s about time.” She took the steps to her building, and led him into the lobby and up the staircase to her door. “This’ll only take a minute.”
After opening the door, she headed down the hall while he walked into the kitchen and set the dog-food bag on the counter. Aside from a coffee cup in the sink and two brightly colored dishes sitting empty on the floor, the place was spotless, the exact opposite of his. She hurried in from the living room with her dog on her heels at the same time his phone rang.
“Ryder.”
“Hey, partner, it’s me.” Vince Fugazzo sounded as if he was on cloud nine. “Now that the baby’s settled in, we’re having some people over tonight. Just family and a few friends. You game?”
“Maybe. What time?”
Ellie placed the magazine, with yellow tabs sticking out the side, on the counter next to him.
“Seven o’clock, and come hungry. Natalie’s mother made a couple trays of lasagna, and my mom spent the morning cooking.”
“I’ll try to make it. It depends on how things go at the precinct.”
&nb
sp; “What? You still working alone?”
“Budget cuts, so no interim sidekick. I have to manage on my own.”
“I won’t be back for another four weeks. You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine, and I’ll make time to come by. See you tonight.” He snapped the phone closed, and picked up the magazine. Flipping to the tabbed page, he spotted Rita Millcraft’s ad, circled in pink high-lighter, and began to read. “Thanks,” he said when finished. “Guess I’d better be on my way. I have to put in a requisition for that subscriber list.”
“It sounds as if you have something special lined up for the evening.”
“My partner and his wife had their baby. It’s a welcome-home party of sorts.”
“Nice. You bringing a gift?”
A gift? “I guess I’d better.” She grinned, and he read her mind. “Okay, so I’m a guy, and I have no clue what to get for a new baby. Any suggestions?”
“Lots of them, but only after I ask a few questions. Is it a big family?”
“Italian, so I’d say yes.”
“First baby?”
“Yes, but there are a ton of nieces and nephews.”
“Then they probably don’t need much in the way of clothes or toys.”
“How about cash?”
“Cash isn’t personal enough.”
How the heck was he supposed to know? “Then what?”
“A savings bond is nice. You could add one every year for the baby’s birthday or Christmas. The child and parents will thank you when he or she is ready for college.”
“It’s a she. Angelina.”
“Pretty name.”
“I talked to the proud daddy a couple of hours after she was born. Apparently she’s the most beautiful baby on the planet. Even his mother said so, and Mrs. Fugazzo’s a tough nut to crack.”
“Okay, then.” Ellie glanced at her dog, who’d been staring at Sam with a look of disdain on his fuzzy muzzle. “So . . .”
“I’ll call if the computer guys come up with anything.”
“I’d appreciate that.”