Begging for Trouble

by Judi McCoy

  “I was, but it’s getting late.” He trotted beside her as she paced down the hall. “Bitsy’s already sound asleep.”

  “I was afraid of that.” She tiptoed into the bedroom, plugged her cell into the charger, and pulled down the comforter. Rudy jumped on the bed and managed to curl up on his pillow without waking the poohuahua. Ellie slid under the covers, doused the bedside light, and reached out to snuggle her boy. “Did she say anything about Madame Orzo?”

  “Some. Claims she’s gonna think on what happened and tell you everything tomorrow.”

  Ellie stifled a yawn. “Do you think she’ll actually recall anything more?”

  “Maybe.”

  “What did you think of Madame Orzo and her psychic abilities?”

  “Have to say, it was one of the weirdest things I’ve ever experienced. It wasn’t like you and me, talking all nice and normal. It was more like she was inside my head walkin’ around like she was shoppin’ at the food store or somethin’.”

  “It was sort of spooky when she brought out those treats.”

  “Ya think?”

  “Okay, fine. I’ll let it rest for now. You and Bitsy can stay home tomorrow and I’ll pick you up before the afternoon walks. Maybe you can help her remember more of what she knows.”

  “Don’t worry. She’d never try to hide anything from you. She’s trustin’ you to save Bobbi-Rob.”

  “That’s what worries me.” Ellie scratched the underside of his chin, then rolled closer and kissed his nose. “Good night, big guy. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

  Chapter 13

  The next morning, Ellie sat at the kitchen table, nursing a final cup of coffee with Bitsy in her lap. She’d showered, given the dogs a quick trip outside, and eaten a decent breakfast, but had yet to speak with the poohuahua about their visit to the psychic. Their session with Madame Orzo and the time she’d spent with Sam later had eased the load of worry she’d been carrying about Rob. It sounded like Sam would let her in on a few of the steps he planned to take in his investigation, and the poohuahua had remembered more about the murder. Both positive signs.

  “I had a visitor last night, and by the time I came to bed you were asleep,” she said to the pocket pooch. “I take it you had a good rest, no bad dreams or anything else caused by the incident at the club or Madame Orzo.”

  Bitsy gave a doggie grin. “I slept real good. She got me to relax, and remember and . . . and everything.”

  How much was everything? Ellie wondered. “I know, but I only heard what went on from her point of view.” She held up a steno pad. “Now that we have a few minutes before I have to leave on rounds, how about you tell me more of what you remembered in your own words, so I can compare versions?”

  Bitsy began by describing the performers’ excitement in the dressing room the night of the killing, and how concerned they were about the show being a hit. After everyone left to put on the revue, she’d settled down for a nap. Her explanation slowed when she talked about being awakened by the sound of an argument.

  “After the human voices got me up, I stared at the only thing I could see from underneath the table—their shoes. And believe me when I tell you if people looked at the world the same way we little guys do, life would be different. For one thing, they’d take better care of their shoes and their pants cuffs.”

  Since Ellie had shared Bitsy’s experience of being stowed under Rob’s table, she knew exactly what the poohuahua was saying. “Madame Orzo said you had shoes on your mind. Dark shoes with a thick sole. Is there more?”

  “The shoes were definitely black or brown, and they were definitely man shoes. And they looked different, but I’m not sure how.”

  “Do you think you’d recognize them if you saw them again?”

  “Maybe.”

  “And you don’t remember smelling anything special about the killer? Something that would alert you, if you met them again?”

  “That room is always full of smells. Most of the time it’s girly and kinda sweet, but every once in a while it’s pee-eeuw stinky. There’s hair stuff, and spray stuff, and sometimes even food smells. One of the girls likes onions and horseradish on her roast beef sandwich. The stink’s enough to make my eyes water.”

  “I’ll just bet,” said Ellie, coming to grips with the fact that although dogs’ sense of smell is their strongest ally, it didn’t sound as if it would help in this situation. “One more thing. What about the stranger’s voice?”

  Bitsy stood on her hind legs, rested her front paws on Ellie’s chest, and stretched up until they were almost nose to nose. “I think I heard that voice another time, but I can’t be sure where.”

  “Another time? You mean at the club?”

  “Uh-uh. Somewhere else.” The poohuahua dropped to a sit. “I’m not sure, but I think so.”

  “Then we should probably figure out where you’ve been since the murder took place.” Ellie glanced at Rudy, who was lying at her feet. “Did you hear that, big guy? Chime in if you can help reconstruct the little girl’s week.”

  Instead of answering, Rudy thumped his tail twice.

  She didn’t like the sound of that thump. “Are you feeling okay?”

  He sneezed. “Yack! Yack! Yack!” The string of coughs made her frown. “No, I’m not. I think I’m comin’ down with somethin’. Prob’ly that freezin’ wind last night.”

  Talk about ratcheting up her guilt quotient. “What else? Sore throat? Headache? Chills?”

  “A little achy. Yack! Like I slept on my bad side or jumped high and couldn’t get my feet under me when I landed.”

  Ready to call Dr. Dave, Ellie said, “I knew I should have put coats on the two of you last night.” She read the clock on the stove. “I’ve got to go.” She set Bitsy on the floor and locked eyes with Rudy. “I’m going to leave both of you home this morning. You can stay here and sleep, and maybe the cough will go away.” She walked to the pantry, opened a door, and began rifling through his treat basket. “I’m pretty certain I have some leftover doggie aspirin, from when Gary’s brother slapped you around.”

  He stood and gave a full-body shake. “No, no. I’m okay. A little exercise might do me some good, but maybe you should get my coat, just in case.”

  Gazing out the kitchen window, Ellie saw frost still icing the pane. “It doesn’t look any warmer than it did an hour ago, but all right, if you say so.” She walked to the hall closet and slipped her jacket over her pale blue sweater, which covered a thermal undershirt. Then she reached up to the top shelf and brought down the red plaid coat he’d been given this past fall by canine design maven Lorilee Echternach. “There,” she said, strapping the Velcro strips under his belly to keep the fit snug. “That should do it.”

  “What about Bits? She’s gonna freeze out there.”

  “You up for a walk, too, Bitsy?”

  “If I’m warm, sure.”

  She checked the shelf again and found a sweater jacket her boy never wore. “I don’t have one of your coats, but this old sweater of Rudy’s might fit.” She slid the knit garment, more of a stocking with holes, over Bitsy’s head. It was so huge, Ellie imagined two more of the poohuahua could fit inside. “Well, shoot, that won’t work. Give me a minute to think.”

  When an idea hit, she raced to her kitchen and grabbed the scissors, then went to her guest bedroom closet with the dogs at her heels. Digging into a bag of used clothes she planned to take to a homeless shelter, she pulled out a faded black sweater and went to work with her shears. After a moment, she examined her masterpiece. “It’s kind of ragged, but it should be okay until we get you home.”

  Ellie squatted and slipped the remodeled sweater sleeve over Bitsy’s head and onto her legs. “What do you think?”

  The poohuahua stretched, then wriggled. “I guess it’s all right. It seems warm.”

  “Okay. We’ll head out as soon as I put on my gloves.”

  Five minutes later they were on the street walking toward the Beaumont. The damp, ch
illy air and brisk wind still made her think of snow, and she hurried west, crossing Lexington, Park, and Madison at a marathon-walker pace. Finally at their first stop, the trio hurried inside.

  “You three look toasty. All ready for that blizzard they’re predicting?” asked Natter, the Beaumont’s doorman.

  “Blizzard?” was Ellie’s response. “Darn, I knew I should have checked the Weather Channel before I left the house.”

  “You mean you haven’t heard? We’re supposed to get eight to ten inches by tomorrow morning. Biggest storm of the season. I just hope my shift is over before it gets here.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up,” she said as they went to the elevator. The door closed and she leaned back against the wall. “We won’t have a problem if it starts late this afternoon, but it’s going to be trouble come tomorrow morning.” Ellie heaved a sigh. “Good thing for us tomorrow is Saturday.”

  “You’re right about that,” Rudy yipped. “Some of them humans with money would never walk their own canines. It’s all they can do to give ’em treats and food.”

  “Treats and food? Are you saying some of the dogs we walk are going hungry?”

  “I hear things, off and on. Next time I get a hint, I’ll report back what I heard.”

  “You do that. I want to know all the details. You understand?” The elevator stopped on the top floor and she knocked on Flora Steinman’s door. “Remind me to put coats on Lulu and the rest of the gang if they want them,” she said, ready to use her key.

  Just then Nelda, Flora’s faithful housekeeper, opened the door. “Good morning. Just give me a second to find the baby.”

  Ellie grinned. Many people on the Upper East Side treated their pets like children, especially the smaller dogs, but Nelda and Flora referred to the haughty Havanese as if she were a real baby. That was why Rudy’s pronouncement about one of their dogs going hungry had upset her.

  “Here she is,” said the housekeeper, returning to the foyer from the direction of the bedrooms a moment later. “Ms. Flora already put on her new coat.”

  Her new coat? Blinking, Ellie studied the Havanese, who was dressed in her red-and-black-plaid outerwear. Then she looked at Rudy. “You are a stinker.”

  The yorkiepoo rubbed noses with his canine girlfriend. “How the heck was I supposed to know what she’d be wearin’?”

  “You know because I told—” Lulu began.

  “Ix-nay on the oat-kay,” he muttered to Lulu.

  Ellie grabbed the leash. Her boy was quite the actor, pretending to be sick so she’d dress him in a coat he knew was nearly identical to Lulu’s. A coat that gave them the look of twins. “We’ll be back in a little while,” she told the housekeeper as they walked into the hall.

  “I forgive you,” she said when they entered the elevator, and rode it one floor down to Cheech and Chong’s condo. “But all you had to do was ask. Thanks to that black lung act, I was worried you might need to see the vet.”

  “Can we talk about this another time?”

  “Sure we can. Just remember you owe me one.”

  Forty-five minutes later, they arrived at the Davenport. The wind had calmed down, but the clouds still looked ready to dump a load of snow on the city. Stomping past Randall, who was chatting with a tenant, Ellie tossed him a wave and stepped into the elevator. It was then she remembered she wanted to ask Kayla if Eugene, who was used to handling larger canines, could take her place walking Bradley.

  She pressed the button for Bitsy’s floor and gazed at Rudy. “You and Ms. Pickypants looked very cute in your matching coats.” She shook her head. “If you wanted to dress like Lulu, all you had to do was ask, you know.”

  He gave a doggie shrug. “Uh, yeah. But I didn’t want you laughin’ at me for wanting to copy her.”

  “Would I do that?” she asked, stepping out on the correct floor.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, you got me, but I would have understood.”

  “I knew, I knew. I knew what he was doin’,” yipped Bitsy. “Rudy’s got a girlfriend. Rudy’s got a girlfriend.”

  When they arrived at Rob’s apartment, she heard snurffling coming from underneath the door, a sure sign the Great Dane was waiting. No one answered her knock, so she opened the door and found Bradley staring at her as if she were a poison-laced Milk-Bone.

  “Hey, big man. How’s tricks?”

  Glaring, the pony-sized pooch cocked his head.

  “Is Kayla or Rob up?”

  He nosed her arm, shoving her toward the leash hanging from a hook on the wall.

  “No, huh? I don’t suppose you have a coat?”

  “Bradley’s from Arizona. It’s a hundred degrees down there, even in the winter,” Bitsy answered for him.

  She hooked up the Great Dane, locked the door, and gathered the rest of the Davenport pack, charging through the lobby and out onto Fifth Avenue in record time. Some of the dogs had asked for their coats and some hadn’t, which was fine by her. The temperature had climbed a few degrees, so she doubted anyone would freeze.

  Except for Bradley, all the dogs in this group held a special place in her heart. They were her first customers, had been with her when Buddy, a champion Bichon, went missing, and had known Gary, too. They keyed in on each other and her moods easily, and today was no different.

  “Hey, Bitsy. How was the psychic?” asked Sweetie Pie, the ever-cheerful Westie.

  “Yeah,” grumped Buckley. “Did she try to stomp around in your brain the way she does in mine?”

  Conversation escalated from there, with Rudy and the poohuahua rehashing their evening with Madame Orzo. After the canines did their business, she dropped them at home and wrote Kayla a note asking for her approval to contact Eugene about Bradley. If Rob’s sister said yes, she would get the annoying man’s promise that he’d take good care of his temporary client. She had never thought she’d see the day when she was friendly toward Eugene, but he’d been easy to get along with lately, and she got the feeling he actually accepted her as one of the area’s legitimate professional walkers.

  After seeing to the rest of her charges in the building, they moved on to Sara Studebaker’s complex. When no one answered Ellie’s knock, she figured her friend was at her new store, so she retrieved the rest of the dogs and finished the walks. Then the trio moved on to the Cranston Arms.

  Their first stop was the Lowensteins’, where she would pick up Sampson. Since Mariette had been home the last couple of times, Ellie knocked and waited before opening the door. A moment later, Norman Lowenstein greeted her with the pudgy Pug at his side.

  “Ms. Engleman. Hello.”

  “Judge,” she acknowledged. She knew men of his position expected a certain amount of respect for the job they did. She’d been careful with Stanley, too, until she got to know him. “I’m surprised to see you. Is today a holiday for the courts?”

  “No, no. But I’ve cleared my calendar. Mariette’s been under the weather, and I’m worried about her.” He stuck his hands in the pockets of his cranberry-colored cashmere sweater. “I take it you’ll be at the Fryes’ tomorrow night?”

  The Fryes? “At Georgette and Stanley’s place? Yeah, Rudy and I will be there with bells on.”

  Judge Lowenstein raised a brow and focused on the yorkiepoo. “You do realize this is a formal affair in honor of the three judges being considered for the appellate court?”

  “So Mother said, though it was Stanley’s idea to invite Rudy. The judge has a rule: I’m not allowed to come to their apartment unless I bring my boy. Mother isn’t an animal lover, so it was the only way he could guarantee that he and my dog could visit.” And who are you to say who I can and can’t bring to my parents’ party, even if it is in your honor? “He’ll be quiet. You’ll hardly know he’s there.”

  “Are you sure Judge Frye wasn’t joking?”

  “I’m gettin’ a vibe here, Triple E. This guy don’t like me, and he’s nervous about somethin’, too.”

  Ellie shushed him with a look. �
�I’m pretty sure he wasn’t. He said—”

  “Norman? Who’s at the door?” called Mariette from somewhere in the apartment. Standing tall, the judge frowned, and it was then Ellie realized he was quite a bit shorter and thinner than his partner.

  “I’m handling things, Mariette. There’s no need for you to be involved.”

  Whoa, thought Ellie. He sure told her. “Can I do anything to help?” she asked as she hooked Sampson to his lead.

  “Norm? Is everything all right?” Mariette’s voice was high-pitched and warbling, not at all her usual commanding tone.

  “Get control of yourself, Mariette. I’ll join you for a cup of tea in a few seconds,” the judge chastised, not an ounce of sympathy in his tone.

  Ellie knew she was being dismissed, and not in a nice way either. “We’ll be back in a half hour or so,” she said, sidling out the door.

  She led the dogs to the elevator, thinking about the Lowensteins. Mariette was usually a model of decorum. In fact, she was so adept at handling herself that the one time Ellie had seen the Lowensteins together, she thought Mariette was the alpha bitch in their relationship. Today, it sounded as if Mariette had experienced a mental lapse . . . almost as if she was in distress.

  Ellie filed the experience away and led the group off the elevator and onto Freud’s floor. She would see both the Lowensteins at the judge’s party, and she might be better able to get a handle on Mariette’s problem there.

  She focused on this walk. Only one more unit and they were through for the morning.

  Sam and Vince were in the office when their phones rang at the same time. After Sam answered his, he mouthed “medical examiner” to his partner and turned his chair around for privacy. Vince left the room a couple of seconds later and Sam centered his chair, then rested his elbows on the desk. “Sorry about the delay, Dr. Kingsgate. What do you have for us?”

  “The autopsy and toxicology screenings on Mr. Pearson are finished. A lab tech is faxing the results as we speak.”

  “Maybe you could fill me in while I wait,” said Sam. “Our machines are always on overload for one reason or another.”