Begging for Trouble

by Judi McCoy

  She called the dogs’ names, then Sara’s, and got no answer. Concerned, she walked down the center hall of the comfortably appointed unit checking the rooms. “What do you think? Should we be worried about the situation?”

  Rudy sniffed the doorway of each room. “I’m not gettin’ a whiff of trouble, so my guess is the car girl forgot.” He loved referring to Sara as Sara Sedan, Sara Ferrari, sometimes even Sara Convertible, depending on his mood, even though her family had no connection to the automobile industry.

  Ellie stopped in the kitchen and went to the spot where she left her daily progress reports. “Maybe you’re right, but I’m still worried. There’s no note, and she usually leaves one if she has to go out.”

  Without a clue on how to proceed, she left Sara’s place and moved down through the floors, picking up Scooter, Fred, and Spike. With two fewer dogs to walk, she finished in twenty minutes, returned them all home, and headed for the Cranston.

  “You sure got a lot of us to walk,” chimed Bitsy, who had never accompanied them on their entire route before.

  “I had an assistant until last November,” she told the poohuahua as they entered the Cranston Arms lobby and headed for the elevator. “I’m advertising for another right now.”

  “Was that the pretty girl who walked us a time or two the day you were at that show?”

  Ellie unlocked Freud’s door, introduced him to Bitsy, and let the dogs get acquainted in the usual manner. After a round of sniffing and bowing, she answered the question. “Her name was Joy. Did you like her?”

  “She was okay, but she talked on the phone a lot. And sometimes she forgot to give us our biscuit.”

  Joy spending time on the phone didn’t bother Ellie. It was easy to walk and talk at the same time. But not giving the dogs their treats was a different matter. “No biscuits? Why didn’t one of you tell me?”

  “We knew you were extra-busy so we talked it over and agreed not to,” Bitsy explained. “It sorta just slipped out.”

  “Did you know about that?” she asked her boy as they arrived at the next apartment.

  “Who, me? Nope. Didn’t know a thing.”

  “You are such a liar,” she scolded. “Someone should have told me, so I could deal with the situation.”

  “I thought about it,” said Rudy. “Then Joy quit, so I figured ‘no biggie’ and filed it away.”

  They collected Freud, a French Bulldog; Arlo, a miniature Dachshund; Rocco, a black toy Poodle; Dilbert, the long-haired Chihuahua; Lily, a tiny Bichon with a sweet disposition; and finally Sampson, the extra-large Pug.

  On the sidewalk, Ellie noted the weather was even more agreeable than she’d first thought, and so she let the pack take their time. Then she sat on a bench and inhaled the fresh air. When her phone rang, she checked the number. Though it didn’t register on caller ID, she picked it up anyway. “Paws in Motion. How may I help you?”

  “Are you the person lookin’ for a dog walker?” asked a male voice awash in a Brooklyn accent. “Ellie Engleman?”

  “That’s me. Are you interested in the job?”

  “Uh, yeah. I mean, maybe.” The man cleared his throat. “How much does the gig pay?”

  Ellie recited the amount she’d been giving Joy, which was 50 percent of what she charged for the walks.

  “So, uh, what would I have to do?”

  “Before I answer, maybe you could give me a name, Mr. . . . ?”

  “Rizzoli. Tony—er—Anthony Rizzoli.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Rizzoli. I’ll explain what the job entails and you feel free to ask questions.” She went over the times of day he would need to work, as well as the bonding and insurance papers he would need to fill out. “How does that sound to you?”

  “Easy enough. So what do we do next?”

  “How about a meeting? Say, this afternoon around five thirty at the building I need you for?” She gave him the name and address of the Cranston Arms.

  “Sure, fine. Whatever you say. Meet you in the lobby at five thirty.”

  “We gonna get another new walker?” asked Arlo when Ellie ended the call.

  “Maybe. He’ll have to try out first.”

  “That means we’ll be missin’ you again,” complained Lily.

  “I’ll choose someone dependable and pleasant. I promise.”

  “Big Momma ain’t gonna like it,” Sampson warned. “Seems like everything makes her miserable these days.”

  Standing, Ellie led them across Fifth Avenue and entered the Cranston while assuring each dog she’d find the perfect walker. She kept it up while dropping off each of her charges. Finally, at Sampson’s door, she knocked, then used her key, but like the other morning Mariette swung open the door.

  “You’re home,” Ellie said, surprised to see Mariette, who was usually at a spa or a fitness appointment. “Since you didn’t answer when I picked Sampson up, I thought you were out.”

  Mariette blew her nose into a wad of tissues, shocking Ellie with her red face, swollen eyes, and rumpled hair. Then she grabbed the Pug’s leash and unclipped it from his collar. “I’ve been under the weather, so I haven’t been out lately.”

  “Is there anything I can do for you? Maybe pick up a prescription or warm some chicken soup?”

  “It’s nice of you to offer, but I’ll be fine.” She glanced at Sampson. “How was my boy today?”

  “Fine.”

  “I’ve been extra careful with his treats and his diet.”

  “And it shows,” said Ellie. “Are you planning on going to the doctor?”

  “Don’t worry about me, Ellie.” The door closed and the locks clicked into place.

  Ellie raised her hand to knock again, then thought better of it. If Mariette had wanted help, she would have accepted it when first offered. According to Judge Frye, the woman loved her socialite lifestyle and enjoyed the prestige garnered by her husband’s successful judicial career. Whatever was bothering her would probably take care of itself soon enough.

  The trio headed toward the elevator. Ellie planned to take Rudy and Bitsy home, grab lunch at Joe’s, and go to Guess Who. She wanted to talk to a few of the “girls” and find out if they knew anything that might help Rob.

  On the street, she hailed a cab and herded the dogs inside. After giving the driver her address, she leaned against the backseat. When she laid a hand on Bitsy’s head, she sucked in a breath. “Hey, baby girl. What’s wrong? Why are you shivering?”

  “She’s been like that for a while, Triple E.”

  “Shaking like one of those battery-powered monkeys?”

  “Pretty much,” said Rudy, putting his paw on her thigh.

  Ellie gathered Bitsy in her arms. “What’s wrong, sweetie? Did something frighten you?”

  When the poohuahua continued to stare straight ahead, Ellie groaned internally. The little dog was acting the same way she had the night of the murder. What had happened to put Bitsy in such a state? And what could she do to bring her out of it?

  “Bitsy, talk to me. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

  The poohuahua sniffed out a breath, but she didn’t speak.

  “Want me to give it a try?” asked Rudy.

  “Sure, go ahead. Just don’t frighten her.”

  He nosed Bitsy’s ear. Ellie didn’t hear anything, but she knew the dogs were communicating in their own language. After a few seconds, Rudy sat back on the seat.

  “What? What is it?”

  “You ain’t gonna believe this one.”

  “What did she tell you?”

  “Bitsy says she heard something . . . a bad voice.”

  “Voice? Whose voice?”

  Rudy again nudged the poohuahua. After a moment, he sighed. “I ain’t gettin’ nothin’. She says she can’t talk about it. She wants to go home and sleep.”

  “She’s probably confused because she’s tired. A canine her size isn’t used to trudging the number of miles we do each day. Rob always said the only long walks she got were with us, and that’s not
really much.”

  Rudy gave a doggie shrug. “That’s all she’s willing to say, and from the looks of it, I think you should give her a break.”

  Ellie gazed at Bitsy, curled in a ball on her lap. Her eyes were closed and her panting had slowed, but she was still trembling. Cradling the poohuahua in her arms, Ellie nuzzled Bitsy’s neck. “It’s okay, little girl. I’m here and so is Rudy. We’ll figure this out and we’ll help Rob, too.”

  Chapter 7

  Ellie dropped the dogs off and returned to Joe’s flagship store on Lexington off Seventy-fifth for a quick lunch. As the week progressed, her college buddy rotated to each of his three stores, but he lived above this one, so he spent the majority of his time here. Walking through the front door, she found him scowling behind the counter.

  “Why are you grumpy? Has the new menu hit a glitch?”

  “The new menu’s working out just fine. Thanks. What can I get you?”

  “A turkey on whole wheat, lettuce, tomato, and mayo sounds perfect. And my usual Caramel Bliss. Now, about the store next door—”

  After handing register duty to a coworker, he motioned Ellie to the side of the counter. “Did you get the chance to look inside that bakery?”

  “Just for a second this morning, but I didn’t see anyone.”

  “Well, check it out before you tell me I’m wrong.” Joe grabbed her tray from the clerk and carried it to an empty table, still scowling. “I thought about what you said, but I doubt I can go over there without starting a fight.”

  Ellie rolled her eyes. Men! After taking a swig of coffee, she stood. “Watch my sandwich. I’ll be back in a second.”

  She was out of her seat and on the sidewalk so fast he didn’t have time to respond. Before entering the building next door, she did a full inspection, noting its sparkling windows, freshly painted exterior, and shiny brass doorknob. Peering inside, she saw several men hanging shelves, a large bakery case, and a woman arranging round tables and matching chairs in the area in front of the case.

  The workmen looked like the typical construction workers hired for a renovation job, so she concentrated on the woman, who was of medium height with straight blond hair and a healthy build. Ellie guessed she was the owner and headed inside. When the woman glanced up, Ellie stepped forward in surprise. “Sara?”

  “Ellie?” Sara Studebaker dusted her hands on her snug jeans and smiled. “Oh, gosh. I guess I forgot to tell you. I’m opening a bakery.”

  It was then Ellie spotted Pooh and Tigger, peeking out from behind a rear door she guessed led to the kitchen. “Hi, girls,” she said, waggling fingers at the Westies. Then she focused on her client. “I’m glad to see you’re okay. I got worried when I arrived at the apartment this morning and you and the dogs weren’t home.”

  Groaning, Sara rolled her big green eyes. “I am so sorry. I knew there was something I forgot to do when I left. I meant to call and tell you I had the babies, but with all the excitement I forgot.”

  “So,” said Ellie. “You’ve decided to follow in your family’s footsteps.” She gazed at the antique bookshelves, which she imagined would soon be filled with goodies. “Have you developed any new items?”

  Sara pulled out a chair and gave a nod, encouraging Ellie to sit. “Sort of, but not exactly.”

  Sara’s grandparents had secured a fortune back in the sixties, when they won a lawsuit against a company that stole their first-on-the-market, all-natural bakedgoods recipes. A few years later, they compounded their wealth by selling the company, Mother Millie’s Homemade Treasures, to a high-end food conglomerate.

  “You did say it was a bakery, right?”

  Pooh and Tigger trotted over, stood on their hind legs, and rested their front paws on Sara’s thigh. She gave each of her girls an ear rub before saying, “The Spoiled Hound will carry goodies for canines only. A sign company’s scheduled to dress up the door and windows sometime next week.”

  “A dog bakery? Like Bread and Bones?” B&B was Ellie’s favorite spot for fresh dog treats, but they made goodies for humans and canines alike. Because it was several blocks from home, she stopped there only if she had extra time.

  “The canine cookies will be one hundred percent natural, with no chemicals or preservatives. They’re so pure that babies can use them for teething biscuits,” Sara assured her.

  “Is it one of Grandma Millie’s recipes, or did you come up with it yourself?”

  “A bit of both,” said Sara. “I took one of the Treasures’ cookie recipes and played around with it until I knew Pooh and Tigger loved it. Then I decided to get off my butt and work for a living instead of existing on my overblown trust fund.”

  “What do your mom and dad have to say about the venture?”

  Sara shrugged, her expression forlorn. “I think they’re okay with it. Then again, it’s hard telling how they really feel. A once-a-month phone call from Jamaica isn’t exactly the best way to gauge a person’s true reaction to things.”

  Ellie and Sara had talked about their parents before, comparing Paul and Bunny Studebaker’s lack of involvement in their daughter’s life to Ellie’s buttinsky mother. Sara wished she had a mom and dad more like Georgette, and Ellie wanted a mother who interfered in her life only when asked.

  “I’m sure they’re proud of you,” Ellie told her. “Send them an invitation to the grand opening. I bet they’ll come.”

  “Maybe, but who knows?”

  “Still, you should send them an invitation.”

  Sara heaved a sigh. “I guess.”

  “Great. What’s the date of the grand opening?”

  “I’m not sure. Four weeks or so. I’m still waiting to set up an inspection by the city, and I can’t do that until the kitchen is fully operational and I can post the permits. Right now, I’m making trial batches of the cookies in my apartment and passing them out to whoever I see walking a dog. Why?”

  “Because I plan to mark the date on my calendar. Rudy and I will be here with bells on, and I’ll be happy to hand-deliver invitations to all my clients.” She remembered the reason she was in the shop and smiled. “I don’t mean to be a mooch, but do you have any samples with you?”

  “Sure do. Give me a second.” Sara disappeared through the rear door and returned with a bag. “These are apple-carrot, Pooh’s and Tigger’s favorite.”

  “And you’ll be making other flavors beside these?”

  “The plan right now is for cranberry-orange and carob chip. I’m also working on a recipe for liver treats and dry kibble, but that one might take some doing. I’m almost ready with an all-natural wet dog food you keep in your freezer, too. It’ll be packaged in quarter-cup servings. Just take out however many you need, nuke them for a minute per, and dole them out alone, with my kibble, or with your own. Whichever your dog likes best.”

  “Wow! I’m impressed,” said Ellie, studying the cookies. She knew the perfect way to show Joe how wrong it was to jump to conclusions. “I have to get moving. If you’re bringing the girls in every day, I guess you won’t need me for a while.”

  “No, but I’ll call you if I leave them home and they need a walk. And if you come by this way again, feel free to stop in and take them out if you can.” Sara rested a knee on the chair and leaned into the table. “I didn’t know you walked dogs on this street.”

  “I don’t, but I have a friend near here. I stop in to say hello a couple of times a week.”

  “Then I’ll still see a lot of you. That’s great. And don’t worry about my account. I’ll get my money’s worth if you promise to use my biscuits as your special treats and keep reminding your clients to do the same.”

  “Will do,” Ellie said, standing. “Oh, and don’t be surprised if you have a visitor.”

  “A visitor?”

  “Be patient. You’ll meet him soon enough. Catch you later.”

  She stepped outside, thinking. She’d used up her free time scouting for Joe, so she would need to wrap her sandwich and eat it on the way to the clu
b. But first, she had just the thing to teach her pal a lesson.

  “Look what I’ve got,” she said when she returned to the coffee shop. Joe was still sitting at the table, his expression grim. “Free samples.”

  “Some friend you are, going to the dark side and accepting contraband.”

  She opened the bag and held out a cookie. “Stop being such a grouch and try one. Tell me what you think.”

  He grabbed the treat and gave it a quick study. “Shaped like a carrot? These must be for kids.”

  Ellie recalled Sara’s teething biscuit comment. “Yep.” She waited while he took a bite. “Well?”

  Still frowning, he swallowed. “They’re good, but they’re hard as roofing tiles.” He took another bite. “I have to admit, the taste does grow on you.”

  She choked back a grin. “Great, considering they’re dog biscuits.”

  Joe’s eyes opened wide. He swallowed what was left of his cookie. “What?”

  “I said they’re dog biscuits, you dope. And you would have known the ‘bakery’ was for dogs if you’d bothered to do a little investigating.”

  Still wearing a stern expression, Joe crossed his arms. “You did that on purpose.”

  “Of course I did. Now go next door and introduce yourself to Ms. Sara Studebaker. Tell her you have an idea that will benefit both of you.”

  “I do?”

  “Yes, you do.” Ellie wrapped what was left of her sandwich in a napkin and tucked it in her bag. “Tell her when she rings up a sale, she should hand the customer a coupon for a free cup of coffee next door. That way she won’t have the hassle of making pots of coffee and supplying sugar and cream, and people will stop in your store to buy something from your case for themselves to go with the coffee. It’s a win-win deal.”

  Smiling for the first time since she’d arrived, Joe said, “Maybe you should open a promotions firm instead of a dog-walking service.”

  “You like the idea?”

  “I’m going over there right now to discuss it. Want to come along?”

  “Sorry. Don’t have time. But I’ll be by soon to hear how you made out. Maybe tomorrow. See ya.”