Hounding the Pavement

by MCCOY, JUDI

  “Those other guys can go to hell,” Sam muttered, squinting at the screen. Who the fuck had come up with the idea of a computer anyway? Damn plastic boxes were nothing but a nuisance, with a mind of their own and a dozen ways to screw with a normal man’s brain.

  “I second the sentiment, buddy. Just the same, you can’t stop the talk.” He sat at his desk and pulled a stack of pictures from his shirt pocket. “Hey, want to see the latest photos of Angelina? Took ’em myself with that fancy camera Natalie bought me for Father’s Day.” He tossed the pictures on Sam’s desk. “I got one beautiful baby there, pal. Pretty soon, I’ll have to beat the boys off with a stick.”

  Sam flipped through the photos and had to agree. Angelina was about four months old, with a pixie face, a tuft of dark curly hair, and her mother’s striking doe eyes. His sister Sherry was having a girl, too. Didn’t it figure? Pretty soon women would be ruling the world.

  “You’re becoming a regular pro with that Nikon. What are these, pics number one thousand through one thousand ten?”

  “Very funny. Just wait till you have a kid of your own. You’ll be singing another tune, I promise you.” Vince scooped up the photos and tucked them in his drawer. “So, you want I should take a trip down the hall and get the dirt on that Engleman babe?”

  “Makes no never mind to me,” Sam said with a shrug. “I have paperwork to do.”

  “Sure, no problem.” Vince’s face creased in a smirk. “I’ll even get the skinny on how she looks.”

  She probably looked as terrific as ever, thought Sam, though Ellie would never admit it. She was forever covering her curves, thinking she had to hide them instead of show them off. But she hadn’t been able to hide them from him. He’d cupped her full breasts, palmed her ample ass, and tongued her sexy belly. He knew firsthand exactly how she was built, with soft, supple flesh rounded in all the right places.

  He ground his molars. This was not the time to dwell on the past, not now, not ever. He’d already fucked up one woman’s life because of this job. There was no need to fuck up a second. Fugazzo was lucky. He and his wife were in love, and he’d bet his last bullet their marriage would survive the taxing mental and physical tolls this profession took on a person. Vince wasn’t like most of the men in their department, screwing around on his wife and bragging about it. But women like Natalie Fugazzo were few and far between.

  Ellie already had one failed marriage behind her, just like he did. She deserved better than a guy who worked twenty-hour days and put his life on the line while doing so. The job of a NYPD detective had driven plenty of good women to divorce court or caused them to cheat on their husbands. He cared for her too much to see her share the same fate.

  Vince swaggered back inside, loosening the knot in his tie as he walked. Sitting at his desk, he whistled as he tapped a couple of keys on the computer, then dug through a pile of folders. When he found the one he wanted, he flipped it open and logged on to the system.

  Sam drummed the desk with his fingers.

  His partner stared intently at the computer screen.

  Leaning back in his chair, Sam heaved a sigh. “Okay, so how is she?”

  “I was on family leave when you had the Albright case, so I never got a good look at her before tonight. How come you didn’t tell me she had legs up to her armpits and a rack that would catch a dead man’s eye. Nice face, too. Innocent, yet high-class.”

  “Did you find out why she’s here?” Sam asked, not about to comment on the man’s spot-on description.

  Vince swiveled his seat around. “Your girl found the vic’s body in the park while walking her dog. He was shot at close range, once in the heart with a forty-four. The shooter covered his body with debris. They found the silencer, a one-quart plastic soda bottle, but no weapon.”

  “So why are they holding her?”

  “Officially, it’s just routine questioning, but you know Gruning. It there’s an easy out, he’ll take it, and right now she’s it.”

  No way in hell would Ellie ever commit murder. The woman was so averse to violence she refused to watch a crime show on television or go to a shoot’em-up movie. She was such a softy, she cried when a dog owner died, and not for the owner. She wailed for the damn mutt.

  “Why would he think that?”

  “It’s Gruning. There doesn’t need to be a reason.”

  “Then it’s definitely his and Smith’s case?”

  “Yep.”

  The pair might be assholes, but they were damn lucky assholes. The incompetent dicks always seemed to get a case that solved itself. Even more annoying, ever since Sam had tied a burglary he was investigating to a murder that was on Gruning and Smith’s list a couple of years back, both men had had it in for him. Especially Gruning.

  “And they didn’t find the murder weapon?” Sam couldn’t imagine Ellie holding a gun, let alone firing it.

  “Nope, but they’re looking. Seems your girlfriend mentioned that she knew an empty plastic bottle would act as a silencer, and that got Gruning’s attention.”

  “She actually told him she knew how that worked?”

  “Not Gruning, but she mentioned it to the cop standing guard, and he relayed it to the lead detective, just like he was supposed to.”

  Sam hunched over his desk. It didn’t make sense. Ellie had probably babbled nonsense, not given her expertise on the creative criminal use of a plastic bottle. Hell, she talked to her dog as if the mutt was human, a fact he knew to be true because she’d done it enough times while she was on his tail about Albright’s murder. She’d probably thrown out a stupid remark when she saw them dig up the bottle, without realizing anything she said could be used against her.

  “There also seems to be another small problem.”

  Fuck. “And that would be?”

  “It seems she’s refusing to hand over her tote bag. Says they already took a look and cleared it once, so they now need a warrant for a second inspection. Not a good way for someone who claims they’re innocent to handle themselves,” Vince added.

  He pushed from his desk and headed for the door. What in the hell was wrong with her? Ellie knew better than to act as if she had something to hide. “I’d better see what I can do.”

  “Don’t get involved,” his partner warned.

  “I have to. She isn’t guilty.”

  “Gruning will have you up on professional charges if you interfere. You know that.”

  “To hell with that asshole. I’m not going to let him pin a murder on an innocent woman just because he’s a lazy SOB. Besides, without a murder weapon or an eyewitness, they can’t legally keep her here.”

  He charged into the hall, knocked on the holding room door, and let himself in. Ellie saw him and her complexion bled white. “What’s up, Murphy?” he asked, focusing on the officer on duty.

  “Just waiting for Gruning to get a search warrant. The lady isn’t cooperating, so it’s either that or arrest her.”

  Sam frowned. “Give us a second, okay?”

  “It’s your funeral,” said Murphy. “I’ll be right outside.”

  The door closed, and he inhaled a breath to stay in control, then met her glare. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why can’t Gruning look through your bag?”

  She held her tote close on her lap. “It’s a pleasure seeing you again, too, Detective Ryder. Now go away.”

  “This is serious,” he began, but could tell from the set of her lips she wasn’t going to talk unless he made nice. “How have you been?”

  “Fine.”

  “You’re pissed because I didn’t call—”

  “Me? Pissed? Whatever gave you that idea?” She raised her nose in the air. “Just because we slept together, doesn’t mean you owe me anything.”

  He heaved a sigh. This was not the time or place to discuss the past. “You know things will go easier if you cooperate.”

  Her shoulders straightened. “I want a lawyer.”

  “Why. Did you shoot that guy?”

&n
bsp; “Of course not.”

  “Then tell me what’s in your purse.” He sat across from her at the table. “We’ll find out anyway.”

  “Gruning already had a cop search my bag in the park, and he didn’t find anything. If they want a second look, they need a warrant . . . I think.”

  “That’s debatable,” Sam intoned. Then he got the message. “What are you hiding?”

  She huffed a breath, opened the bag, and dug around until she pulled out a grubby business-sized envelope. “Pops gave this to me tonight—in private, I might add.” She set it on the table. “It’s from Gary.”

  “Gary?”

  “The victim.”

  “Oh, hell.” He ran a hand over his jaw. “What’s inside?”

  She shrugged. “I haven’t had a chance to open it, so why should I give it up? Pops said it was for me.”

  “If it’s from the victim, it could be evidence.”

  “That patrolman guarding me probably blabbed,” she ground out. “What nerve.”

  “Wait a minute. A cop saw someone hand this to you while you were standing right there, and it was after they’d searched the bag?”

  “That’s what I’m telling you.”

  He picked up the envelope and held it to the light. “Looks like there’s a key inside.”

  She leaned forward, as if reading through the paper. “I don’t have a clue what it is. Honest.”

  “Well, somebody has to take a look.” He slid a finger under the flap and gauged her response. “You mind?”

  “No, go ahead,” she said, pouting. “I just wanted to see it before Gruning. That’s all.”

  Sam thought about calling Murphy in as a witness, then decided against it. Ellie might hate him, but she’d never leave him hanging out to dry. If she gave her word, she’d keep it. She was too honest to do anything else. “I’m going to inspect it, but I want you to promise that whatever it is, you won’t say this was an illegal search—you got that?”

  “I got it.”

  He slit the envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper and a key. After glancing at the handwritten page, he tucked the envelope and its contents into his pants pocket. Then he scowled at her. “Christ, Ellie, what have you gotten yourself into this time?”