by MCCOY, JUDI
She plopped into a chair. The detective was a busy man—of that, she was well aware. After seeing all he’d done to investigate and solve the professor’s murder, she knew how hard he worked, how many hours he had to put in to do a decent job. She also realized his work was important to him and the public he served, while she’d just come into his life.
He didn’t owe her anything, nor did she expect hearts and flowers or undying gratitude for a single great night in the sack. But a thank-you might have been nice.
Rudy sidled over, stood on his hind legs, and rested both front paws on her knee. “I heard his cell phone ring and followed him when he took the call.”
“Thanks for not biting him or doing something rude.”
“Who says I didn’t?”
She ran her fingers over his ears and scratched his favorite spot, the underside of his jaw and neck. “I can tell by the way you’re talking to me, all nice and sweet, you don’t want to hurt my feelings.”
He nosed her hand, licked her fingers. “I’d never hurt you, Triple E. Just don’t count on seeing the dastardly dick anytime soon. Okay?”
“Oh, and why do you say that?”
“Just an impression. After he talked to someone, he wrote that note, then raced out of here without a backward glance.”
“Duty called. He’s an honorable guy.”
“Maybe, but I still don’t trust him.” Rudy dropped to all fours. “I got an idea. How about you shower and we go for a morning walk? Bread and Bones is open for breakfast. Then we can hit Joe to Go for a cup of java and a bowl of water.”
Ellie stood and did as Rudy suggested. Sam said he’d call. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he would.
Read on for a preview of Judi McCoy’s
next Dog Walker mystery
HEIR OF THE DOG
Coming from Obsidian in October 2009
Ellie and her dog, Rudy, stood next to a uniformed officer, staring in mute horror at the red sneakers pointing skyward from a pile of leaves scattered on the forest floor. Though she didn’t want to believe it, she’d know those toes . . . er . . . feet . . . er . . . shoes anywhere.
She glanced around the clearing, noting that it crawled with patrolmen and -women, suited detectives, reporters, people carting video cams, news vans, and all manner of official personnel, along with the usual flotilla of gawkers, who had sensed something newsworthy was going down in the Ramble.
Apparently, the Big Apple was so proud of the way it had cleaned up one of the most isolated areas of the city, the fact that a lone homeless person had died there under suspicious circumstances was cause for a media circus.
When a suited official caught her eye through the gloom, she cringed inside. The detective, part of the mob circling the cardboard box that made up Gary’s home, appeared to be in charge, which she hoped would be a blessing in disguise. There was a better chance she could maintain her dignity and self-control with this officer of the law than she would if she was on the hot seat with her single-fling lover, dastardly Detective Sam Ryder.
“Miss Engleman?” The short, stocky man stood in front of her and flashed his badge. “Detective Art Gruning. I understand you found the body and called it in.”
Ellie knew better than to offer her hand in greeting. “Actually, my dog did.”
Gruning raised a brow.
“I don’t mean ‘called it in.’ I called it in, but Rudy’s the one who found Gary’s body.” Great. She sounded like an idiot. “What I’m trying to say is, my dog and I were taking a stroll, and he sort of dragged me in here. Since we’d visited Gary before, I figured Rudy wanted to stop and say hello. When I saw feet sticking out from the leaves in front of his shelter, I knew right away who it was.”
“You recognized the guy by his feet?”
She peered over his shoulder and got a view of Gary’s red, size sixteen or better high-top Nikes. “Well, sure. How could anyone miss those shoes? They’re huge.”
“You saw a pair of oversized athletic shoes and figured out who was lying there, just like that?” Gruning retorted, his voice nasal, flat, and pure New York.
“Gary’s not a big man, so his shoe size always amazed me. I suspected it was him, but I stooped down and brushed the leaves off to be sure. When I saw he was dead—”
“How did you know he was dead?”
She opened and closed her mouth. Was that a trick question? “Uh . . . by the bullet hole in his chest?”
“So you disturbed the scene?”
“I checked to see if there was anything I could do to help, as I assume any normal human being would. When I realized there wasn’t, I sort of lost it—”
“That would be your vomit next to the shelter, then?”
Sniffing back a tear, she wiped her nose with the used tissue. “Afraid so. Then I called nine-one-one.”
Gruning scribbled in his notebook. “You say you’ve been here before.” He gazed at a rocky hill-side against which Gary had established his cardboard home. “This is a fairly isolated area for someone to visit on a regular basis.”
“We didn’t stop often. Just when Gary invited us.”
His eyes narrowed at the word “invited.” “How well did you know the victim?”
Striving for composure, she took a deep breath. “Not very. But Gary is . . . was a really nice guy. Harmless. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to kill him.”
Gruning’s expression held a nasty edge, as if he didn’t believe a word she said. “So you were more than acquaintances?”
“Not really. He was just someone I talked to once in a while when I walked my dogs.”
“That dog?” he asked, pointing to her gray-and-white Yorkiepoo.
“This one and others. I’m a professional dog walker.”
He consulted his palm-sized spiral pad, a must-have, it seemed, for all detectives in the city, and again raised a brow. “Hold on a second. Engleman . . . Engleman . . . are you the ditzy woman who was involved in that dognapping homicide a couple of months back? The one Sam Ryder worked on?”
“That would be me.” She blew her nose, then dabbed the crumbling tissues over her damp forehead. Though it was cooler here in the shade of the park, mid-July in Manhattan was brutal, especially since temperatures had hovered in the midnineties for the past week. “I discovered the professor’s body.”
“Appears as if discovering dead bodies is becoming a habit of yours. Why do you think that is?”
It was obvious from his “ditzy woman” crack that she would never live down her involvement with Sam, but jeesh, this guy made it sound as if she was some kind of nutcase killer. “I have no idea, but Detective Ryder took me off his list of suspects after his first round of questioning.”
“But you knew who did it?”
“I ‘figured out’ who did it. I didn’t actually know the man.”
“The way I heard it, you did,” he insisted, loosening his garishly patterned tie. Rivulets of sweat trickled down his ruddy cheeks and disappeared under the collar of his shirt.
“I only knew him to see him,” she went on. “What does this have to do with Gary?”
Detective Gruning proceeded to take her elbow and lead her farther from the scene. Situating her in front of a tree, he folded his arms and glared. “You look nervous, Ms. Engleman. Any particular reason why?”
Here we go again, she thought. “I’m not nervous, just upset. It happens when you lose a friend.”
“You just said he was an acquaintance. Someone you barely knew.”
“I still considered him a friend. Gary and I spoke several times a week.”
“How often did you come here, to his hole?”
“Not often.”
The detective ran a hand over his face, then wiped the sweaty palm on his suit coat. “Let me put it this way: When was the last time you were here?”
“Before Rudy and I found his body?”
“Yes.”
“About two weeks ago.”
&
nbsp; “And why was that?”
“Gary wanted to show me something he’d found—a treasure, he called it.”
“And what exactly was this treasure?”
“A dog dish. He was proud of the fact that it only had a single chip along the edge. He found it in an alley where he did a lot of Dumpster shopping and brought it to his shelter so Rudy could have a drink of water when we stopped to see him.”
“Rudy, as in your dog?”
“Yes.”
“So Gary liked your dog?”
Ellie remembered how the homeless man and Rudy had bonded on their second or third visit. For some unexplainable reason, Gary had picked up on their unique manner of communication and was able to speak with Rudy exactly as she did. “He told me he always wanted a dog, but his mother wouldn’t allow it.”
An officer walked over and handed Ellie her tote bag. “It’s clean, sir.”
Gruning nodded; then a man’s voice called from the scene, “Hey, Gruning, I think you should see this.”
The detective nodded at the purse-toting patrolman, who moved to Ellie’s side. She waited until Gruning plodded to the cardboard shelter; then she asked her guard, “What’s happening?”
“Don’t know, and I couldn’t tell you if I did.”
“I don’t like the look of that detective, Triple E.” Sounding unsure and a little frightened, Rudy’s voice invaded her mind for the first time since they’d found the body. “I get the feeling he’s gonna make trouble for us.”
“He’s just doing his duty. Gary is dead, remember.”
The officer sneered. “Funny you should notice.”
Ellie squatted on the pretext of brushing off her buddy’s fur. She didn’t mind being thought of as eccentric, but being labeled “crazy” was something else. “How about you take a walk over there, scope out the site, and report back?” she whispered. “Just don’t let anyone see you.”
“Like I would.”
The terrier mix took off at a trot, his leash trailing in the underbrush. The interior of the park was dank, alive with the scent of decaying leaves, vegetable matter, and on the fringes, the scent of putrefying flesh. How long had Gary lain there, alone and bleeding? Standing, she turned her back on the officer and moved to block the dog’s disappearance.
“Hey, Ellie?”
“This is a crime scene,” the officer said at the same time.
She shifted her stance and saw her favorite hot dog vendor standing a few feet away. “He’s a friend,” she said to the patrolman.
“Hurry up,” the guard responded. “This isn’t a tea party.”
Pops edged closer, his nut brown face set in a frown. “Heard it was Gary, so I came running. Had to leave the cart chained to a lamppost or I’da been here sooner.”
She gave him a watery smile. “He was shot. Can you believe it? Why would anyone shoot a nice guy like Gary?”
“Beats me, but . . . um . . .” He glanced over his shoulder, then reached in his pocket and passed her a grimy envelope. “This is for you. Gary told me to give it to you if anything ever happened to him.”
She stared at the gift. “To me? What’s in it?”
“Beats me, but there’s weight to it. Feels like it might be a key of some kind,” said the vendor, taking a step of retreat. “Just said he wanted you to have it. I gotta be going. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He ambled off with a wave of his hand.
Trying for casual, she stuffed the envelope in her tote bag. She’d take a peek as soon as the coast was clear. “So, what happens next?” she asked, turning back to the guard, though she had a good idea. The last time she’d found a body, she was immediately labeled the prime suspect and hauled in for questioning. She’d been fingerprinted and her hair and clothes checked for fibers and whatever else the authorities considered necessary to implicate her in the crime.
“What did that old guy just give you?”
“Something personal. When will I be able to go home?”
“When Gruning gives the okay. Why?”
“Because it’s getting late.”
At the sound of a commotion, they focused on Gary’s home. An officer walked from behind the shelter with what appeared to be an empty plastic soda bottle draped over the end of a pencil. Gruning scanned the item, then glanced at her. More pictures were taken, while sirens sounded in the distance.
“What’s going on?” Ellie asked.
“Looks like they found something,” said the officer, without volunteering his thoughts on what it might be.
“They got part of the murder weapon.” Rudy’s voice came from below.
“What?”
“No idea. Too soon to tell,” the officer added, unaware he was participating in a verbal Ping-Pong match with a canine.
“An empty plastic bottle. They think it was used as a silencer for the gunshot that killed Gary.”
“A soda bottle as a silencer?”
The officer folded his arms across his protruding belly. “If you know what they found, why are you asking me?”
“Ah, I don’t know. I’m merely speculating.” Accustomed to brushing past the conversations she held with her dog, she said, “I think I saw it once on . . . on television.”
“Really? Mind telling me what show that might have been?”
Ellie shrugged. Great. She never watched cop shows on TV or went to any type of movie with violence or mayhem, so she had no idea where she could have viewed the scenario. “Um . . . an episode of Law and Order, maybe. I don’t remember.”
“Try CSI,” Rudy encouraged. “Real cops hate that show.”
“Like I need to get on anyone’s bad side.”
“You’ll only be on Gruning’s bad side if you know something and don’t tell him,” the officer intoned.
When her overseer came to attention, Ellie assumed Gruning had returned, so she pasted a smile on her lips and faced him. “What was all the commotion for?”
“Police business.” Gruning glared at Rudy. “We don’t need any mutts mucking up the crime scene, so keep hold of his leash, Ms. Engleman, or I’ll be forced to impound him. Got that?”
“My dog is probably cleaner than a lot of the people rifling through here, and this is a park with birds, rabbits, squirrels. I don’t see how a little dog hair—”
“There’s plenty of animal residue inside that box.” A technician approached holding a set of tweezers and a plastic bag. Before she could stop him, the man bent and plucked a clump of Rudy’s fur.
“Yeow! Easy with the police brutality.” Growling, he lunged forward, and both the tech and Gruning jumped back.
Ellie knelt and ran a soothing hand along her boy’s coat, then threw both men a glare. “I could have done that myself, if you’d asked.”
“Just control your animal,” Gruning warned. Still eyeing the Yorkiepoo, he said to her guard, “Escort Ms. Engleman home so she can drop off her attack dog. Then bring her to the station.”
Sam nodded at a group of officers shooting the breeze around the watercooler. Instead of calling hello or shouting a string of joking insults, they merely nodded in return. But when he headed down the hall toward his office, a whisper of comments buzzed behind him.
What the hell was going on? Did he have toilet paper stuck to his shoe? Maybe he’d split the seam in his pants or—
“How many times do I have to say it? Gary was a friend. I didn’t meet him until after I started my dog-walking business.”
Stopping short, Sam kept his feet glued in place. He’d recognize that female voice anywhere, even in the dark. In fact, it had been the dead of night the last time he’d heard it, and its owner had been lying underneath him, calling out his name while pounding the rhythm of her orgasm on his shoulders.
What the heck was Ellie Engleman doing here?
Swamped with guilt, or maybe regret, he crossed to the other side of the hall, as if passing directly in front of the closed interrogation room would alert her to his presence. He didn’t doubt she’d be unhappy t
o see him. Technically, she had every right to call him a creep and slap him or, worse, pretend he didn’t exist.
The one night they’d spent together flashed in his brain, as it did from time to time when his mind wandered, or he woke with a hard-on like a tire iron. Or some nights, when he was alone and feeling sorry for himself. Other than that, he hardly thought about her at all.
Striding to the office he shared with three other detectives, he closed the door and shuffled through a mound of paperwork. Then he swung his desk chair around to his computer and logged on, preparing to finish the six reports he should have filed a week ago. After hitting the command keys, the template showed on the screen, and he focused on the pink sheets, but Ellie’s features, flush with arousal, continued to pop into view.
He palmed his face, rubbing his eyes. Damn, how long would it take for his libido to forget about her? When would he be able to put her out of his mind and get back to business?
Minutes passed while he concentrated on the computer screen, but it was no use. The question continued to nag at him. Why was Ellie being held in an interrogation room? She’d been his own personal “bad penny” when she’d stuck her nose in Albright’s investigation. Now she was in the precinct again, just a few months later, only this time she wasn’t horning in on his case. Still, she had to have done something to get her ass hauled in for questioning.
His partner, Vince Fugazzo, sauntered through the door wearing a neatly pressed shirt and matching tie. One of the benefits of having a wife, Sam supposed.
“Hey, did you hear about the guy they found in the park?”
Sam’s stomach lurched. “What guy?”
“Some homeless dude, Gary somebody-or-other, lived in the bowels of Central Park. Seems he got shot, and your girlfriend found the body.”
Girlfriend? “What the hell are you talking about?” he asked, though he knew the answer even before Vince answered.
“You know, the doll who got in your face about those dognappings. The one who helped you wrap the case.” His partner snorted a laugh. “The case a couple of the other guys are hinting she solved for you.”
Sam heaved a silent sigh. There was no need to explain things to Vince. He knew his pal was dedicated, even if Ellie had done a lot of legwork on the Albright murder.