Hounding the Pavement

by MCCOY, JUDI

  Standing on hind legs, Rudy pushed at the gate and whined. Sam heaved a sigh, slipped the latch, and walked after the dog, down the sidewalk, and around to the rear of the house. After giving the cluttered lawn a once-over, he sized up the dwelling. Except for its poor condition, the row house looked a lot like his mother’s, which helped him envision the interior. Three bedrooms and a bath up, a large kitchen, living room, and dining room down, and a basement, probably good for nothing better than storage or growing mushrooms.

  The dog waited until he again made eye contact, then sidled near to the house and ducked between the bushes. Sam cursed silently, annoyed at being led on a wild-goose chase. Still, when he arrived at Rudy’s side, he saw a pale glow of light through the basement window.

  Sinking silently to his knees, he peered inside.

  Someone was sitting on a chair, but there was little more he could discern through the grime-encrusted pane of glass. Between the howls of wind and claps of thunder, he heard the mumble of a man’s voice, but couldn’t make out the speaker. Then a woman shouted, “You’ll never get away with this. And if anything happens to Rudy, I’ll hunt you down and kill you myself.”

  He shook his head. It was his “bad penny,” all right. And she sounded pissed. Shifting his weight, he realigned his view of the basement and spotted a man, probably Gil Mitchell, striding up the stairs.

  Sam fumbled with the edges of the window and found it locked. Breaking glass would give away his position, so that was no good. If the guy had a gun, a likely scenario, he couldn’t just barge in and strong-arm him, because Ellie might get hurt.

  Standing, Sam gazed at Rudy and muttered, “Now what?” Then he cursed. Christ, he was as loopy as all those idiot dog lovers. He had to get in that house and down the stairs to free Ellie. Then he’d concentrate on the takedown.

  When a car door slammed, he peeked around a corner and spotted a taxi pulling away. A figure carrying a suitcase barged through the gate. Fingers crossed, he raced to the rear of the house and onto the porch, where he tried the back door. Finding it open, he slipped inside while Mitchell welcomed his visitor at the front. Then he crept to the basement door while the pair talked.

  Halfway down the steps, he stopped and softly called, “Ellie, it’s Sam,” before continuing his descent. When he spotted her, tied to the chair with her eyes wide and staring, he grinned. Walking to her, he whispered, “You’re nothing but trouble—you know that?”

  Stowing the flashlight in his pocket, he bent and untied her ankles. She gazed at him with tears in her eyes, and he held a finger to his lips. Then he stood and walked behind the chair, saw the handcuffs, and found his key ring. After a bit of jiggling, the key for his own pair clicked, and the first cuff opened, then the second. When he helped her to stand, she fell into his arms.

  “How did you find me?” she asked on a hiss of breath.

  “Your dog. I followed him here.”

  “Rudy? You found Rudy? Where is he?”

  They gazed around the cavern and saw him sitting at their feet. When she dropped to her knees and hugged him, he gave a muffled yelp. Ellie continued to whisper words of comfort, running her fingers over the dog while he whimpered.

  After a moment, Sam pulled her to her feet and pointed to the ceiling, then sat her back in the chair, tucked her arms behind her, and crossed to the steps. Ducking under the staircase, he drew his gun and nodded.

  Without asking, Ellie knew immediately what Sam wanted her to do, though she doubted he expected her to do it the way she planned. Locking her arms in place, she threw Buddy a look of command. “Buddy. Play dead. Now.”

  All three dogs fell on their sides, and she smiled. “Hey! Hey, Gil, get down here!” she shouted. “I think there’s something wrong with the dogs.”

  Footsteps rattled the ceiling. “Quit your bellyachin’,” a voice called from overhead.

  “No, I mean it. Buddy’s on his side, breathing funny, and the others look sick, too. They’re not moving.”

  “This better not be a trick,” Gil grumbled, stomping down the stairs.

  Gil got to the bottom, headed for the cages, and squatted. When he saw all three dogs lying still as death, he cursed and opened each door, then reached inside to wake them.

  Sam crept behind him and held the gun to his head. “Stand up real slow, Mitchell. And keep quiet.”

  Gil froze and followed orders, and the detective slapped him in his own handcuffs, then said, “Call down your friend, and no funny business,” in a harsh whisper.

  Gil glared at Ellie. “She’s such a smart mouth, tell her to do it.”

  “I’d just as soon knock you out as play games, shit head. So call your pal.”

  He hesitated, and Sam jabbed the gun in his back.

  “Hey, Bibi. Come on down here!”

  Ellie gasped. Bibi Stormstein? Had to be. The name was so unusual, there couldn’t be many women out there with the identical name.

  “What’s the problem?” Goth girl asked from the top of the stairs.

  Sam nodded at Ellie, and she sat back in the chair and assumed the position. Then he shoved the gun to Gil’s ear.

  “It’s the dogs. I need a hand.”

  After angling him toward the steps, Sam ducked into the shadows.

  “Jeez, can’t you do anything? They’re little suckers. Just give ’em a drink or something.” Bibi plodded down the stairs, stopped on the bottom step, and sneered at Ellie. “Hey, Engleman, long time no see. Told you I’d take care of things, didn’t I?” She continued walking to the crates and dropped down. “Come on, you little turds. Get up.”

  “Hold it right there.” Bibi turned to stone as Sam glided into view. “Now stand up nice and slow. Ellie”—he tossed her the other set of handcuffs—“do the honors, please.”

  Ellie stood, caught the cuffs, and started across the dirt floor. Goth girl spun and crouched low, diving at Ellie and tackling her legs. Ellie screamed and fell in a heap. Gil rammed his shoulder in Sam’s stomach, jolting him backward. Then all hell broke loose.

  The three dogs scrabbled from their crates, snarling and yapping like rabid wolves. Rudy dashed from beneath the stairs. Buddy and Gemma each grabbed one of Gil’s ankles while Buddy and Jimmy latched on to Bibi’s.

  “Get ’em off me! They’re killin’ me!” Gil screamed like a girl. Sam slammed a foot in his back and held him prisoner.

  Bibi kicked her legs to dislodge the dogs and fell on her hands and knees, cursing and shouting. Ellie jumped onto Bibi’s back and pinned her to the floor.

  “Enough! Ellie, call off the dogs,” Sam yelled, dragging Gil to his feet.

  Ellie wrenched Bibi’s arm behind her. “Rudy, Buddy. Off! Gemma, Jimmy, you, too!” The dogs, continued to growl and pant, but did as they were told. Heaving a breath, Ellie glanced up at Sam. “Told you little dogs were scrappers.” She gasped for air. “Anything else you need done?”

  His mouth twitched almost into a grin, but Sam shook his head. “Find those cuffs and put her out of commission.”

  Still perched on Bibi, Ellie squinted into the dirt. Within seconds, Rudy approached, the handcuffs hanging from his mouth.

  She blew a damp curl off her forehead and grinned as she took hold of the cuffs. “Thanks, pal, for everything.”

  Ellie sat on her living room sofa with Buddy, Gemma, and Jimmy gathered on her lap and Rudy lying across her feet. They’d left the row house after hours of answering questions, giving explanations, and trying to connect the dots. It was three o’clock in the morning, and though the storm had let up a bit, rain continued to saturate the area.

  “Ellie, Ellie, Ellie.” Buddy licked her face. “You got any treats?”

  “I have food, if you’re hungry.”

  “Starving,” he said.

  The three dogs jumped off her lap and followed fast on her heels as she walked into the kitchen. Sam, still on his cell phone, watched with interest as she brought out bowls, filled them with Rudy’s kibble, and set them on the floo
r.

  While the dogs ate, she leaned back against the counter, and he put his arm over her shoulder, drawing her near. “Yeah, that’s right. . . . Call the owners first thing in the morning. . . . I’ll bring the dogs in about eight. . . . Right. See you tomorrow.”

  “Who was that?” she asked when he disconnected the call.

  “Desk officer. He’ll contact the Marinos and Ms. Millcraft with the good news and tell them to come to the station. They’ll need to make a positive ID and fill out paperwork before they can bring their property home.”

  “Can the dogs stay here tonight?”

  He sighed. “I’ll probably get in trouble for saying yes, but by the time I rouse the city pound and have them open up, it’ll be time to bring the dogs to the station.” He swiped a hand over his eyes. “Sure, go ahead. Just don’t lose one of them, or there’ll be hell to pay.”

  “Thanks. I’ll make sure they sleep, or at least rest while I catch a couple of winks.”

  “Can you meet me outside your building at seven tomorrow? I’ll drive you all in.”

  “Of course.” Finished with their meal, the dogs circled her feet. They were tired, Ellie knew, just as she was. “Guess it’s time for bed.”

  Sam stepped away from her. “Sorry. I should have gone home a while ago.” He grinned. “Do you want me to admit you were right now or later?”

  She shrugged. “There’s no need. If you hadn’t found me, who knows when I would have gotten out of that house?”

  “I never thought I’d say this, but something tells me Rudy would have found a way to take care of you. Guess I really underestimated the little guy.”

  “Rudy is special.” Ellie walked Sam to the front door. “So, see you in the morning?”

  He raised a hand and brushed her cheek with his fingers. “Sure. We can talk then.”

  Ellie locked the door and led the dogs to her bedroom. “Okay, I don’t mind having everyone on the bed, but only if you lie still.” She stripped out of her damp, grimy clothes and let them fall to a heap on the floor. “And no snoring.”

  Rudy yawned as he settled alongside her pillow. “They got it, Triple E, but there’s one little problem.”

  “I gotta get back to the professor,” said Buddy before Ellie could ask Rudy what the problem was. “I know he’s been worried about me. I can’t wait to see him.”

  Ellie ignored the ache in her heart and sat on the edge of the bed, running her hand over the bichon’s fur. “Not right away. The police have to finish their paperwork and . . . stuff.”

  “But that detective just said the others could pick up their dogs in the morning. Can’t you call my human and tell him to do the same?”

  She pulled Buddy close and kissed the top of his head. “In the morning, okay. We’ll take care of it then.”

  She settled under the covers and closed her eyes. Now what? Gemma and Jimmy had been strangely quiet for the entire evening, and she wondered if there was a connection between them or if they were so shell-shocked from their horrifying experience they simply couldn’t communicate. Either way, they would be returned to their families, while Buddy was an orphan. Someone had to tell him about Professor Albright, and she accepted that it should be her.

  She recalled Victoria Pernell, the professor’s greedy niece, and the tag sale scheduled for later in the week. The woman had already told Sam she didn’t care about Buddy, didn’t even want him if he were found. She’d sell him for certain now that he’d been recovered. But that didn’t mean the bichon would go to a good home or to a family who loved him.

  And what about the other dogs Gil had stolen, sold, and shipped out of the country? Those poor canines would never see their owners again.

  Sam had told her there were a dozen details to iron out before the police would fully understand the extent of Gil’s crimes. Besides being a forger and a scam artist, the man was a thief and a murderer. But what about Bibi? How long had she been working with Gil? How much did she know about what her boyfriend had done?

  Saddened over the entire affair, Ellie drifted off to sleep, but her last thought was of Buddy, curled up at her feet and pining for the professor.

  What would the little guy do when she told him he was now alone in the world? How was she supposed to explain that he’d lost his best friend?

  Chapter 19

  “You mean the professor is gone, and I’ll never see him again? But we didn’t get to say good-bye . . . or anything.”

  Ellie swiped at her tear-filled eyes and hoisted Buddy on her lap. She, Rudy, and the bichon were in a conference room at the police station, where Gemma and Jimmy had just been retrieved by their owners. After the happy reunion, she could no longer put Buddy off or lie to him about Professor Albright, so she’d told him the truth.

  “You might see the professor later in your life, maybe recognize a little of him in a new caretaker. Who knows? You could even find him again, like Rudy and I found each other after he’d been lost.”

  “Ellie and I are proof that miracles happen, pal.” Rudy put his paw on her knee. “Some things are meant to be. If you and a certain human are supposed to be together, you will be.”

  She gazed at Rudy, read the love in his eyes, and wanted to sob all over again. She’d only gotten a couple of hours’ sleep last night, and she’d spent most of the morning watching Gemma, Jimmy, the Marinos, and Rita Millcraft interact. It broke her heart to know Buddy would never experience the same joy.

  “I wish I could say something more positive, but I do believe in karma. Things will work out.” She gave Buddy another hug. “You’ll see.”

  Sam took that moment to walk through the door with a sheaf of papers in his hand. “We’ve been able to unravel some of Gil’s past. His real name is Gregory Forentsky, by the way, and he’s got a rap sheet from way back all around the country: petty crimes, some forgery and falsification of documents. The dognappings took place over the past two years. Bibi wasn’t in on any of those. She only met him when he started delivering Liquid Ice and took part in this one job.

  “Whenever he arrived in a new city, he found a way to enter the homes of the elite in the dog world. Here in Manhattan, delivering water was the easiest, along with cozying up to a dog walker. According to Stormstein, she had no idea he had a shady past until she heard it from us.”

  “And Eugene? Did he have anything to do with the thefts?”

  “He’s been in interrogation all morning, but we’re not getting anywhere. Stormstein refuses to incriminate him, says she knew exactly where Buddy lived and had a good idea of his pedigree from their friendly conversations. She walked Jimmy, so nabbing him was easy, and she mentioned Buddy to Forentsky.”

  “Is there any way the other owners can recover their lost pets?” asked Ellie, still dejected over the fact that so many canines and their families had been separated.

  Sam pulled up a chair and sat across from her. “It’s possible. Depends on which country they went to, how softhearted the buyers are, and our ability to locate their money and return it. Fortensky claims he didn’t keep detailed records, so it’ll take a while to untangle the transactions.”

  “And the professor’s death was an accident?”

  “That’s the way our guy tells it. Insists he only meant to knock the professor out and take the dog, as he did to the other victims. I tend to believe him, since there’s no more than a slim chance he knew Albright wore a pacemaker.”

  “Then he won’t be charged with murder? They’ll do one of those plea-bargain things?”

  “My guess is he’ll go to prison for a while, and your friend Bibi will get probation. That’s not the way I’d handle it, but it isn’t my decision. Depends on the judge, the DA, and the attorneys.”

  Ellie blew into a tissue. “It seems so unfair. The professor is gone, families and beloved pets have been torn apart, and Buddy is alone.” Intuiting his unhappiness, she rested her chin on the top of the bichon’s head. He’d grown contemplative and quiet, as if grieving. “What�
�s going to happen to . . .” Her eyes drifted downward. “You know?”

  “I’ve been in contact with Ms. Pernell—”

  “I don’t like her,” Buddy whispered. “And she doesn’t care for me. She always complained about how much money the professor spent on me.”

  “I know. She’s not a nice person. You don’t have to live with her if you don’t want to,” Ellie assured him, then realized what she’d done. Raising her gaze to meet Sam’s, she read his questioning expression. “He doesn’t, does he?”

  “You’re telling him Pernell isn’t a nice person?” Sam asked, narrowing his eyes.

  “I’m sure he already knows. I didn’t form that opinion until after you repeated the conversation you had with Ms. Pernell to me, remember? As for talking to Buddy, I believe he takes comfort in the sound of my voice, so why not?”

  “You trying to tell me the dog is worried about his fate? That he’s aware of what’s going on?”

  “Of course, he’s aware. He knows Professor Albright is no longer with us or he’d have been here by now. And besides being in mourning, he’s frightened.”

  “Even so, maybe the niece will want to keep him after she hears he’s been found.”

  “I doubt it.”

  Sam narrowed his eyes. “And you think this because . . . ?”

  “Because I do.” She huffed out a breath. “How many times do I have to tell you? Dogs have feelings. They experience a lot more than people realize.”

  “Okay, okay.” Sam raised a hand. “Don’t get your panties in a wad.”

  Ellie ignored the comment. Sam had been amazingly considerate throughout this entire ordeal; she’d allow him one crass remark. “I still can’t believe that a battery charger could be used in such a deadly manner.”

  “Yeah, well neither did we,” Sam acknowledged. “Once word gets out about how easy it was, we’ll probably have to handle a rash of identical B & Es, or a bunch of idiot college kids stunning their dorm mates for the hell of it.” He shuffled through the paperwork. “Anything else you need to know?”