Begging for Trouble

by Judi McCoy

  Madame Orzo furrowed her brow, then put her lips on Bitsy’s head again. A minute passed before she said, “No color but dark and wide with flat soles.”

  “How about a scent?” Dogs’ sense of smell was their keenest insight into what went on around them. She hadn’t thought about it until now, but the poohuahua must have smelled something that made the killer stand out. “Does she remember if the man wore aftershave of some kind?”

  Ellie wasn’t sure, but it looked as if the psychic was deep in concentration. Then the woman shrugged and opened her eyes.

  “The room was filled with odors. Cologne, makeup, ’air spray . . . The scent of excitement engulfed the room. Bitsy has grown used to the smells, and didn’t notice anything new. All that stands out is the scent of blood.”

  “That’s it? She doesn’t remember anything else?”

  Madame Orzo pursed her lips. “I will zee.” A moment passed while the psychic concentrated. Then she shook her head. “No. Eez all.”

  Okay, Ellie told herself, no identifying smell for the killer. On the plus side, she now knew that the guilty party was a man. But that wasn’t much to go on.

  “Could you ask her—”

  Madame Orzo frowned. “Sorry, but eez not a question-and-answer session. I can only put myself in her place and see what she saw. Lee-til girl is tired, as am I. She cannot theenk of more now—maybe later.” She ran a hand down Bitsy’s back. “I explain that if she recalls any-theeng else, she must talk direct-lee to you.”

  She set Bitsy on the carpet and the poohuahua gave a head-to-toe body shake, then scampered to Ellie and jumped in her lap. “I did good, huh? I remembered the shoes and a little about the argument. You want I should tell you what they said?”

  “Now?” Ellie asked. Her gaze shot across the room. “Uh, sorry. It’s just that—”

  “You have a lot to discuss, I theenk. Eez fine.” Madame Orzo stood. “We settle mon-ee beez-ness and you go, yes. I can do no more for you tonight.”

  Ellie pulled out her wallet. She’d never asked the psychic how much she charged, but whatever the amount, it was worth every penny. The poohuahua had recalled a couple of true clues. “I brought my checkbook,” she told Madame Orzo.

  “Eez two hundred doll-airs. You have driver’s license, yes?”

  She wrote the check out and flipped open her license.

  “Tel-ee-phone number is the same?” the psychic asked, all business.

  “Yes, ma’am.” She dropped the wallet back in her tote, pulled out the leashes, and hooked up her dogs.

  Madame Orzo walked them to the front door with the Greyhounds at her heels. “She weel be fine,” the woman said, nodding at Bitsy.

  “I hope so. And thanks again for your help.”

  Now on the sidewalk, Ellie zipped her parka with her right hand while she held the leashes with her left. The gusting wind seemed to seep through her quilted jacket and right into her bones. Glancing down, she watched Bitsy shiver as she tried to stay upright against the gale. Rob would be heartbroken, as would she, if she allowed something bad to happen to the poohuahua, like letting her get blown into the Hudson. If she’d been thinking, she would have dressed both her charges in winter coats before they left the apartment.

  Raising her eyes to the heavens, Ellie viewed the thick cloud cover obliterating the stars and shading the moon. The weather had been so pleasant for the last couple of days, she’d forgotten it was still winter. She’d lived through many February and March blizzards in this town, even a few in April, and worried that might be the case by morning. Just because she hoped spring was right around the corner didn’t mean Mother Nature planned to work within her timetable.

  “Come on, baby girl. I’ll keep you warm.” Crouching, she collected Bitsy and tucked her inside the parka. “Rudy, you going to be okay?”

  “If I had any nuts, they’d be frozen by now.”

  “Stay close. We’re going where we’ll have an easier time finding a cab.”

  The trio hurried to Sheridan Square, a more populated area. She wanted to question the dogs about their psychic experience, but the whistling wind, her chattering teeth, and the noise of the evening traffic made it impossible. She’d have to wait until they were in a taxi before they could talk, and maybe not even then if their driver turned out to be one of the chatty types and gave a running commentary on Manhattan’s points of interest as he traveled the streets.

  When a cab stopped, they piled inside and Ellie gave the man her address. Within seconds, he slapped on his earphones and began tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel, beating out his personal accompaniment to a rap tune blasting from his iPod. Between the blare of the music and the thumping of his thumbs, she could barely hear herself think, never mind talk to Bitsy or Rudy.

  She breathed a sigh of relief when he took the most direct route to her street, sped around the corner, and slid to a stop in front of her building. Pulling a bill from her purse, she set it on his outstretched palm and left the cab.

  Since the dogs had enjoyed a treat at Madame Orzo’s and taken care of business in the Village, they were set for the night. But she needed a cup of tea and a warm bed, where she could hold a quiet conversation with Bitsy and get enough sleep to see her through tomorrow.

  After charging up the stairs, Ellie unlocked her door, hung her jacket in the front hall closet, and headed to her bedroom with the pooches leading the way. The dogs jumped on the bed while she undressed, changed into a sleep shirt, and made a stop in the bathroom. She’d just finished brushing her teeth when the downstairs buzzer rang.

  “Who in the world can that be?” she muttered, rushing for the door. She flipped on the intercom, but no one answered her. “Who’s there?” The nonresponse got her thinking and she waited a few seconds. When she heard pounding footsteps on the stairs, she checked the peephole. Sure enough, she’d been correct.

  Without waiting for a knock, she undid the locks and opened the door.

  “Where have you been?” Sam asked, striding past her and into the hall.

  Ellie had given him keys to her building and her condo about six months ago, with the understanding that he would use them only if he thought it absolutely necessary. And that had happened just once, when he knew she was in danger. What could be so important now? “Hello to you, too. What’s up?”

  “I called your cell a couple of times, but all I got was voice mail. I was worried about you.”

  He followed her as she walked past him and into the kitchen. “I’ve been visiting a friend.” Which wasn’t exactly a lie. She and Madame Orzo now shared a bond. It was possible they’d be friends in the future. “Turned my cell off so we wouldn’t be disturbed, and I guess I forgot to turn it back on.”

  Ellie pulled the phone from her tote and checked the messages. Three from Sam, one from her mother, one from Rob, and one with a number she didn’t recognize. She set the phone on the table and made a mental note to hook it to her charger. “I was going to make a cup of tea. You want to join me?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Sam said, taking his usual seat. “So, who were you spending time with? Vivian?”

  She retrieved mugs from the cupboard, filled them with water, and put them in the microwave. Then she gathered tea bags and spoons and set them on the table. “Uh, no, not Viv.”

  Sam didn’t speak, but she felt his stare on her back, drilling into her like a laser beam. When the microwave dinged, she removed the mugs and carried them to the table. “Careful, it’s hot.”

  She dunked her tea bag, knowing full well he was still waiting for the details on how she’d spent the evening. After removing the bag, she placed it on a napkin and raised her eyes to find him gazing at her with a frown. “What?”

  He made the same production with his tea bag before speaking. “Okay, don’t tell me where you were. It’s obviously none of my business, right?”

  She blew out a breath. “It’s not.”

  He slouched back in his chair. “Look, if this is about the other d
ay, I apologize.”

  She sipped her drink, his words warming her more than the hot liquid. An admission of wrongdoing didn’t come easy to Sam Ryder. “For ordering me around or for being nasty?”

  He shrugged. “Both, I guess. But if you saw it from my point of view—”

  “The might-makes-right point of view?”

  “What? No.” Leaning forward, he rested an elbow on the table. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like I was bossing you around. I just—it makes me crazy when I see you getting involved in something that’s none of your concern. Especially when it could be dangerous.”

  Ellie sat back and folded her arms. “Look, I know you’re a good cop. Truth be told, I think you’re stellar. But I’m an adult. I can take care of myself.”

  He raised a brow. “Like you did the last couple of times you got involved in murder?”

  How could she argue with him when he was right? “Okay, I’ll admit I’ve needed you to rescue me a time or two. Which should only prove how much I trust you. I know you’re a professional, but Rob is a friend, and he pleaded with me to lend a hand in proving his innocence. I value my friends, so I try to help them whenever they ask.”

  He swallowed a jolt of tea. “I know you believe Chesney didn’t kill that she-male, but right now the evidence says otherwise.”

  She-male? Ellie controlled the urge to laugh. “And you and Vince are doing everything in your power to support that evidence and gather more to make a case for the prosecution, correct?”

  “We have to. It’s our job.”

  “Well, I have a job, too, and that’s helping Rob prove he didn’t do it.”

  “It’s not your ‘job.’ ” He put air quotes around the word. “You aren’t a law enforcement official, nor are you a private investigator. You’re just a—”

  “Friend?”

  “Do you realize how many times you’ve used helping a friend as your excuse for running your own murder investigation?”

  “I know, I know. But see it from my side. You weren’t about to look for Buddy, and he was my responsibility, so you left that up to me, and finding the professor’s killer was the only way I could make it happen. Gary asked for my help as a dying wish; how could I ignore a man’s dying wish? Then Flora needed me. She’s in her seventies, for Pete’s sake. I didn’t have the heart to turn her down.

  “Now there’s Rob. I already told him I couldn’t help, but Bitsy isn’t acting like her usual self, and I think it’s connected to what she saw in the dressing room.” She sniffed. “I’ll do my best to stay out of your way while I help her, but I can’t be certain I won’t trip over your job while I do it.”

  He raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Again, with the ‘helping a dog’ thing.” He stared at her. “Okay, if that’s the best you can do, I guess I’ll have to live with it. But how about making me a promise?”

  “Only if I can honor it with a clear conscience.”

  “All I’m asking is this: If you get a good lead, something that can be used in court, whether it will help free Chesney or convict him, you’ll tell me.”

  “If I promise, how far back would it have to extend?” she asked, feeling guilty before she even gave her word.

  “How far back—” He groaned. “What did you do?”

  “Not much, honest, but I guess I’d better share how I spent this afternoon.”

  Both of Sam’s eyebrows bunched upward. “Something tells me it won’t make me happy, but fill me in anyway.”

  She took a long swallow of tea while she thought. She didn’t have to explain how she’d gotten the information, just confide what it was she’d heard. “I went to the club this afternoon to take a look at the room where Carmella was killed. It’s back in use, and there’s already a new understudy in place. Someone named Nita Zip.”

  “I know all about Ms. Zip. We’ve already documented that she was onstage at the time of the murder.”

  “You told me that, but I overheard a discussion Nita had with someone else and—”

  “Who someone else?”

  “I don’t know. I couldn’t see him—er—her from where I was hid—er—sitting.” Stop stumbling, Ellie. Just stick to the truth. “But I heard their conversation clearly.”

  Sam ran a hand through his rumpled hair, then pulled the ever-present spiral notebook from his inside jacket pocket. The NYPD had to be buying those pads by the case, the way every cop had one whenever she turned around.

  He held up his pen. “Anything you tell me will be hearsay and not admissible in court, unless you’re called to the stand during the trial. You understand?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Okay, shoot.”

  “This other person, the one I can’t identify, told Nita she knew for a fact that Carmella was into blackmail. From the sound of it, it was only one guy, with a very public profile, and he’d been making the payments for a while.”

  Sam sat back in the chair. “I already know that.”

  “You do? How did you find out?”

  “Legally, which is more than I can say for you.”

  “Ha-ha. Very funny.”

  “But true.” He clicked the pen closed and returned it to his pocket. “Just keep what I’m about to say in confidence.”

  “You know I will.”

  “I already got a read on Ms. Sunday’s bank records. From the look of it, she’s been collecting payoff money for the past eighteen months or so.”

  A weight lifted from Ellie’s shoulders. “That’s great. When you find out Rob didn’t make any regular withdrawals, you’ll realize he isn’t the killer.”

  “Not necessarily,” Sam said. “It could mean he found a safer way to obtain and transfer the cash; a way that can’t be traced back to him.”

  She drummed her fingers on the tabletop. “I still don’t believe the guy being blackmailed was Rob. He’s told me a dozen times he’s got nothing to hide, and he certainly isn’t a public figure who has anything to lose.”

  “I’m supposed to have a conversation with the attorney handling Chesney’s trust account. That guy might have a better handle on your pal’s finances.”

  “I thought a lawyer had to honor attorney-client privilege and couldn’t reveal stuff about someone he represented.”

  “Checking finances isn’t the same thing. All I need is a court order and I can take a look at the bank records.”

  “Rob’s attorney is Keller Williams. Is he any good?” She hoped so, and it would be nice if Sam agreed.

  “He’s an up-and-comer, though he’s never defended a case I had a hand in. I heard your boy’s trust attorney is the one who hooked them up.”

  “Mr. Williams got Rob out on bail, so he must know what he’s doing.”

  “That remains to be seen.” He pushed away from the table and stood. “It’s late. Sorry I took up so much of your time.” He collected the notebook and returned it to his jacket pocket. “I can see myself out.”

  This was not their usual way of ending an evening, and she didn’t want Sam to leave without a proper good-bye. She was about to tell him so when they arrived at the door, but he surprised her by cupping her face in his hand.

  “I don’t like it when we fight, Ellie, but I like it even less when you get involved in things that are off-limits.”

  Relieved that he was still willing to talk, she smiled. “I’m well aware of that. I’m also grateful you look out for me, even if you don’t approve of what I feel I have to do.”

  “So, we’re back on track?”

  She nodded. “We will be, just as soon as we say good-bye like we should.”

  A corner of his mouth lifted and he leaned close, brushing his lips across hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, letting him know she forgave him. Telling him she was still his girl.

  When he drew back, she sighed. “Stanley’s giving a big party Saturday night, and he says you’re invited, too.”

  He opened the door. “And your mother will be there?”
<
br />   She grinned. “Unfortunately.”

  “What’s the party for?”

  “The judge is hosting a gathering for the three men who are up for some big-deal judicial appointment. One of my clients, Norman Lowenstein, is on the list, but according to Stanley all the men are equally qualified.”

  “Lowenstein? Why does that name sound familiar?”

  “Maybe you had to testify before him? I walk the Lowensteins’ chunky Pug, Sampson.”

  “The dog with the blue—”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Do I have to wear a monkey suit?”

  “Only if you want to.”

  Sam’s lips compressed into a thin line. “Can I think about it and let you know tomorrow?”

  “Of course. Believe me, if I had anything else going on in my life, I wouldn’t attend either, but I’m free. The best part is I can bring Rudy.”

  He gave her a cheeky grin. “Then let him be your escort.”

  “It’s not the same thing. The judge asked me to bring him as a personal favor.”

  “So I’d be the third wheel to a pint-sized pound dog?”

  “What? No. No!”

  Sam laughed. “I’m only joking.” He stepped into the hall and turned. “I’ll call you.” Pulling her near, he gave her a final knee-shaking good-night kiss and headed down the corridor. “That reminds me,” he shouted over his shoulder. “You might want to check caller ID before you answer the phone for the next couple of days. My mother is on the prowl.”

  “What?”

  He disappeared down the steps without answering and she huffed out a breath. Great. She’d managed to avoid a private conversation with Lydia Ryder for the past four months. At least Sam had given her a heads-up to keep the good luck going.

  She walked into the kitchen, collected the tea fixings, and deposited them in the sink. Then she picked up her cell phone, ready to head for the bedroom.

  “It’s about time Detective Demento took a powder.”

  After jumping a foot, Ellie glared at her four-legged pal, standing in the kitchen doorway. “Stop sneaking up on me. I thought you were in bed.”