Begging for Trouble

by Judi McCoy

  Ellie heard the bride’s opinion in the muttered rant that took place in the background. Her mother demanded to know why the invitation extended to Rudy, and Stanley was stern in his reply. “Because this is my party, Georgette, and I want both Ellie and her dog to be here. That little fellow is quite entertaining, if you know what to look for.”

  “Are you still there, Ellen Elizabeth?” her mother asked after another minute of marital wrangling.

  “Still here, Mom. It sounds like Stanley really wants us at that party.”

  “You, yes, but I’m not so sure about—”

  “Georgette”—Judge Frye interrupted her from somewhere in the room—“that dog had better be here.”

  Grinning, Ellie shook her head. Stanley was one of the few people in the world who garnered her yorkiepoo’s approval. In fact, even before Stanley and Georgette had tied the knot, the judge had announced that Rudy was allowed to attend any get-together he and her mother planned, or else.

  “So you’ll both be here?” Georgette asked, her tone strained but even.

  “Is there a dress code?”

  “Not a code, but it is formal. No pants for the ladies, unless they’re Vera or Yves. A knee-length is fine, but it should be something designer.”

  Yeah, right. Like that’ll happen. “I have one fancy dress, Mom, and no time to shop for another.”

  “Who is the designer?”

  “I don’t remember, but last time I wore it I went to dinner and the theater with that creep of a lawyer you fixed me up with. It’s that or slacks and a sweater.”

  Her mother made a choking sound, then said, “All right, last year’s designer dress is better than nothing. See you Saturday at eight. And come early, if you like. Corinna misses you, and Stanley will be pleased that you’re here keeping him occupied while the catering staff sets up.”

  After a polite good-bye, Ellie disconnected the call. What a charming way to start her day, arguing with her mother as if she were a teenager. Maybe instead of Sam, she’d ask Vivian to tag along. They could stand in a corner and play one of their favorite games: Face-lift Roulette. Viv was an expert at spotting most types of plastic surgery, and Ellie was slowly getting the hang of figuring out how many different procedures a woman had done and how long it might be before she’d want another.

  But she would have to phrase her request to Vivian as if it was a done deal. Her best friend put spending time with Georgette just one step below a root canal. And she might have an evening planned with Dr. Dave. If that was the case, Ellie’s one and only date would be a dog. Not that she’d mind, because sometimes, when Sam was immersed in a case, Rudy was much better company.

  She swiveled on the bed and spied her boy stretching on his pillow. “Good morning.”

  “I take it that was the ex-terminator.”

  She couldn’t help but grin whenever Rudy used Viv’s favorite term to describe her four-times-divorced mother. “Yes, that was Georgette. You could probably hear her talking.”

  “As if she was in the room with us.” He yawned. “Why does she have to shout when she talks to you? She doesn’t do it when we’re at her place.”

  “I think it has something to do with her role as a concerned parent. She wants to make sure I hear every word, so I can’t deny what she said later.” Ellie stood and peeked out her bedroom window, noting the sunshine and what appeared to be crisp, cool, springlike weather. “Looks like another nice day. I’ll get dressed and we’ll go out for a quickie.”

  “You cannot be serious,” said Viv as she, Ellie, and the dogs walked to Viv’s subway stop. “You actually think I’d believe you if you told me I promised to go with you to a party at your mother’s?”

  “It was worth a shot,” said Ellie, annoyed that nothing slipped past her best friend’s radar.

  “And I’d give up a hot date with Dr. Dave to spend time with the ex-terminator?”

  “A girl can dream, can’t she?” teased Ellie. “I’d really appreciate your support.”

  “What about Sam?” They reached the stairs leading to the subway, and Viv rested an elbow on the upper railing before heading down. “He likes the judge.”

  “The judge, yes. Georgette, not so much.”

  “Did he say that or are you reading his brain waves?” Viv adjusted the strap of the Gucci Pelham handbag she’d bought on the Internet at a whopping 75 percent off. “Or is he still not talking to you?”

  “We only argued yesterday, so I imagine it will take him a couple of days to cool off,” said Ellie. “But I’ll ask him if he calls. If he doesn’t, you’re my choice for a companion.”

  “Put a tux on Rudy and let him be your official escort,” Viv said, grinning. “If I didn’t have a date, and Mr. T was invited, that’s what I’d do.”

  “Say what?” yipped the Jack Russell. “The only way you’ll get me in a tux is over my dead body, fool.”

  Ellie’s brain glided past T’s comment and shifted into fourth gear. “How about this? I’ll call Georgette and ask her if you and the vet can come. Dr. Dave might enjoy rubbing elbows with the elite, too.”

  Viv rolled her grass green eyes. “He already does. He was at Mariette Lowenstein’s last night, checking on her Pug. It seems Sampson was having some sort of panic attack.”

  “Panic attack?” Sampson was one of the most easygoing dogs Ellie had ever cared for, when he wasn’t obsessing about food. “That’s ridiculous. He was perfectly fine when I walked him with my almost-assistant.”

  “What? Why didn’t you tell me you had someone interview for the job when I was over last night?”

  “I guess it slipped my mind. He met me at the Cranston and we went on a sample walk. He accepted the paperwork, but that was about it.” She hoisted her tote bag over her shoulder. “I don’t think he’s a dog person.”

  “Then you shouldn’t hire him.” Viv glanced at her watch. “Yikes, I’ve got to leave or I’ll be late. We can catch up later tonight.” She took the stairs to the trains and disappeared.

  “Viv’s right. You’d be wrong to hire that Rizzoli character if he doesn’t care for us canines,” Rudy said. “He doesn’t deserve us.”

  “Last thing we need is a human who don’t get what we’re all about,” T agreed with a yip.

  “Maybe so, but I’ve known people who weren’t raised with dogs, so they weren’t aware of the joy a good pet could bring. Anthony Rizzoli could be like that, but we don’t really have to discuss it. He hasn’t called.”

  The trio crossed Lexington and continued west to Fifth Avenue and the Beaumont. Ellie waved at Natter as they passed and went up to collect Lulu, Cheech and Chong, Bruiser, Ranger, and Satchmo. Minutes later, the pack left the lobby and headed to the park. Unfortunately, they practically collided with Eugene and his herd of eighty-pound pooches on the way.

  “Jeez, Engleman,” the other dog walker snapped. “How many times do I gotta tell you? Watch the fuck where you’re goin’.”

  “Good morning to you, too, Eugene. Nice day, isn’t it?” she asked, vowing to be polite to her obnoxious competitor. She glanced at his dogs and automatically took a head count. “Have a couple of your clients moved?”

  “Moved? I wish. Some upstart stole ’em.” He took a long drag on his cigarette. “Damn robber.”

  Stole? Robber? The terms catapulted Ellie back to the time she’d rescued Buddy and the other dogs who’d been taken from their owners, when she’d first started walking canines. “Are you saying they were kidnapped?”

  After another drag on his cigarette, Eugene fell in step beside her and they crossed to the park, which, considering his normally unfriendly manner, was an oddity. “Business-napped is more like it. Don’t you read the papers?”

  “I read when I can. What are you talking about?”

  “The Post and a couple of other rags have been reporting an upswing in our profession. Seems this city is teeming with wannabe walkers, lookin’ to steal our clients. Word finally got out about what a great deal this business
is, once you build up a list.”

  Dog walking was a wonderful profession for a number of reasons. You made your own hours, the pay was off the books, and you experienced exercise and fresh air by the ton; it was a better job than working in a cubicle, waiting tables, or standing behind a counter all day. And dealing with canines was so much easier than dealing with people.

  “I cleared over a hundred thou last year,” Eugene continued. “How about you?”

  “I did okay,” she answered. No way would she share her personal information with Eugene.

  Two of his dogs stopped to do their business and Ellie cringed at the size of the bag he needed to collect the waste. She was thankful all her pups together didn’t weigh as much as one of his. But if she got any more clients in this building, she’d have to divide the walk into two groups.

  “Just as long as I keep the dogs I have, I’m good, too, but I’ll tell ya one thing.” Eugene thrust out his jaw like a street fighter. “I ain’t about to lose another one.”

  “I don’t seem to have that problem,” she told him. “I haven’t lost a dog to a competitor yet.”

  “Well, lucky you.” He ground the remainder of his cigarette under his ratty sneaker. “Don’t worry. Your day will come.” With that, he turned and marched his pack in the opposite direction.

  “Good old Eugene,” Rudy observed. “About as pleasant as a case of pinworms.”

  “You can say that again,” Lulu yelped. The Havanese was Rudy’s first love and one of Ellie’s most outspoken dogs. “He’s always leaving cards with Nelda, hoping Flora will change walkers.”

  Great. Just what she didn’t want to hear. It figured her nemesis would do exactly what it was other walkers were doing to him. But her customers were loyal, and her rapport with her charges good. She doubted she’d lose a member of her crew to anyone.

  When she brought the dogs back to the Beaumont, Natter waved her over. “I saw you talking with Eugene. Was he bothering you?”

  “Eugene is harmless,” Ellie told the doorman. “Most of the time he’s just a complainer, but he was informative today.” She waited while Natter tipped his hat to a tenant, retrieved a package from under the front counter, and passed it over. “He told me new people were trying to break into the dog-walking business and they’d already stolen a few of his clients.”

  “I probably have a dozen business cards from folks looking to hire on as dog walkers,” Natter confessed. “I only pass the cards along if I know someone is unhappy with their current walker. Unfortunately, there are a few tenants in this building who don’t care for Eugene’s heavy hand.”

  Ellie had warned her competitor about losing clients because of his bad manners, but he’d ignored her. “Have you mentioned this to him?”

  Natter shrugged. “I’ve tried, but he just waves off my advice, so I’m through talking to him. By the way, if you ever want to branch out into larger dogs, I’d be happy to recommend you to tenants.”

  “That’s very nice of you, but don’t bother. If I get one more of these little guys in the Beaumont, I’m going to have to break the walks into shifts or hire a helper, and I can’t seem to find an assistant, no matter how hard I try.”

  “You want to take a look at the cards I have from the newbies? Maybe one of them would be willing to lend you a hand.”

  Now there was an idea she could work with. She’d talk it over with Vivian tonight and get her candid opinion. “Let me think on it for a couple of days,” she told him. With that, she headed to the elevator and called over her shoulder, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  A short while later, the trio entered the Davenport and found Randall waiting. “I left before you arrived for your afternoon rounds yesterday, but I take it you’ve met Mr. Chesney’s sister and Bradley.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Ellie said. “And you’ll never guess what.”

  “I already know what,” the senior doorman said. “Bradley is now one of your clients.”

  She propped an elbow on the counter. “Did you give Ms. Janz that idea or did she think of it herself?”

  “It wasn’t me,” he assured her. “But I know Mr. Chesney is thrilled with your service. I imagine it was all his idea.”

  “Rob has enough stress in his life right now, so I guess I have to give it a try,” Ellie said. “If it doesn’t work out, I’ll think of something.” She straightened her shoulders when a lightbulb snapped on in her mind. “You wouldn’t happen to have one of Eugene’s cards, would you?”

  “Eugene? Don’t tell me the two of you have become friends.”

  “Not exactly, but he did say he’d lost a couple of clients, and I know Kayla and Bradley don’t plan on being here long. I thought I could give him a little help—just to let him know I don’t totally disapprove of him.”

  “Bradley seemed like a perfectly fine fellow to me,” said Randall. “Are you sure you want to foist Eugene upon him?”

  “Unless I miss my guess, I’m not going to be able to handle the Great Dane with all the small pups in this building, but it will throw me off schedule if I have to take him out alone.”

  Randall searched a drawer, pulled out a business card, and passed it to her. “This is Eugene’s contact information.”

  “Thanks.” She stuck the card in her tote bag.

  “I take it you’ve had no luck hiring an assistant.”

  “Nope. Why? Has someone asked about a job?”

  “I haven’t had anyone ask if a dog walker was seeking help, but I have been questioned by a few new people trying to drum up business. As far as I know, they have yet to find a client in this building.”

  When she’d first started walking dogs it had been difficult finding customers. Randall had been instrumental in growing her list; so had the judge and Professor Albright. Once she and Rudy caught the creep who’d kidnapped Buddy and those other champion canines, she’d picked up a half dozen of Bibi’s clients and her business had taken off like the space shuttle.

  “The doorman at the Beaumont told me the same thing. That’s where I spoke with Eugene. This is a tough business to launch, but once you have a foothold, it’s not so bad. I’ll ask Rob and his sister about Eugene when I go up. See you in a few.”

  With that, she rode the elevator to Rob’s floor, where she knocked on his door. Even though he and his sister had said they were night owls, she wasn’t about to barge into a unit unless she was positive it wouldn’t disturb the tenant. A moment later, the same snurffle she’d heard yesterday came from underneath the door. After giving another knock, she used her key.

  “Ellie, Ellie, Ellie,” said Bitsy, jumping like a pogo stick under the Great Dane’s belly. “See, Bradley, I told you they’d be here.”

  Bradley stared, his brown doggie eyes rife with suspicion.

  “Is Rob around? Or maybe Kayla?” Ellie asked, ignoring the pony-sized pooch. Eugene’s dogs were big, but this hound would probably be the largest of any he walked. “I need to ask them something.”

  “They’re still sleeping,” Bitsy said. “Is Bradley gonna come with us, ’cause I told him he could.”

  Ellie did a quick calculation. If she took Bitsy and Bradley out alone, it would add about half an hour to her workload. She’d have to hotfoot it to her other buildings to get them done on time, but it was doable.

  “I’m going to take the two of you out first, just to see how Bradley handles it. How does that sound?” She smiled at the Dane, whose head was even with her waist. “Bradley, you game?”

  “He is. He is,” Bitsy singsonged. “Let’s get going. I gotta pee bad.”

  She brought Rudy and Mr. T into the foyer, where the Jack Russell gave a snarl when Bradley sniffed his butt. “Be nice, T,” Ellie ordered. “He could swallow you in one bite.”

  “I’d like to see him try,” T threatened.

  “No biggie, Mr. T. He’s really a cupcake,” the poohuahua said. Then she gazed up at Ellie. “He’s a nice dog, once you get used to him.”

  Ellie ran her fin
gers over the Dane’s sleek black-and-white head and snapped a leash to his collar, relieved that Bradley didn’t growl or act aggressive. Then she led the four dogs to the elevator and they rode it down. On the street, she aimed for the park, where she encouraged the pair to be quick.

  After Bradley did his business, he glanced at her with a doggie smirk, and she suppressed a groan. Cleaning up after a canine this size reinforced her company’s motto: Little dogs—little poop.

  “Yowza,” Rudy yipped, eyeing the Dane’s offering. “He’s got Sampson beat by a pound.”

  “Way to go, big guy,” Twink chimed in.

  In response, Bradley lifted his leg and sprayed a river onto the stone fence bordering Central Park.

  Ellie sighed. She was definitely going to encourage Kayla to use Eugene. When she returned to the Davenport and took the Dane and poohuahua home, Rob’s apartment was still quiet as a tomb, so she squatted and had a talk with Bitsy.

  “I meant to ask, how are you doing?”

  “I’m better. I slept on Rob’s bed last night, like usual, and I didn’t have any bad dreams.”

  “Good for you. Have you remembered more about the . . . bad thing that happened at the club?”

  “Not really, but I get the feeling it’s right there, just out of reach. I know I’d remember if I had some help.”

  “Then I’ll find a way to do that for you. Just give me a little time.”

  The poohuahua licked her hand. “I know we can count on you, Ellie. You’re the best.”

  “Okay, then. I’ll let you know what I come up with this afternoon.” She locked the door and hurried to collect the rest of the pack. After she picked up Sweetie Pie, Jett, and Stinker, they went to find Buckley. Hazel answered when they knocked at the maltipoo’s unit.

  “Ellie, do you have a minute? I need to ask you a question,” said the portly woman wearing one of her full-length floral-print dresses.

  “Sure, but only a minute. I’m on a tight schedule today.”

  “It’s about that man.”

  She knew exactly who Hazel was talking about, but she wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of considering Rob some kind of maniac killer. “Sorry, but I’m not sure who you mean.”