Begging for Trouble

by Judi McCoy

  Sam knew the federal government didn’t spend a lot of time digging through personal finances in this type of investigation. Government inquiries were more interested in the professional background of the person they were checking on, and Lowenstein’s bench performance had come out okay.

  Of course, the big boys didn’t know enough to tie things together the way he did. And if he was right . . .

  He eyed his watch and frowned. He should call Ellie and give her a heads-up, not on the Pearson/Sunday case, but just to let her know he was sorry he’d left her without a good-bye. She’d looked so angelic this morning, sound asleep in the bed. Especially since she’d had such a crap-hat night.

  Not that her spending time with her old four-legged pal had been a problem. She’d enjoyed playing with Buddy and her own pain-in-the-ass dog. And she seemed to enjoy people watching and evaluating the A-list attendees at the party. But her mother—well, that was a different story.

  To put it plainly, Georgette Engleman Frye, or the ex-terminator, as Ellie and Viv liked to call her, had been a bitch. In fact, she was such a disagreeable woman she made his mom look like Mother Teresa. And that was tough to do, because Lydia Ryder was no slouch in the mothers-who-should-give-it-a-rest department.

  There was no love lost between him and Ellie’s dog either, but Georgette made out like everything the little mutt did was her daughter’s fault, and he knew damn well it wasn’t. Her pint-sized Cujo was wise to each and every person and situation around him.

  Sam was just damned glad the little creep had finally accepted that he was going to be in Ellie’s life from here on out. At least that was the way the pup acted, but who the hell knew. He wouldn’t put it past Rudy to be plotting something nefarious, like crapping in his shoe or chewing up his shoulder holster—or worse.

  One look at the pile of paperwork covering his desk and he knew he had to lay off obsessing over Ellie’s mutt and get some work done while he waited for a call from the DA.

  If things progressed the way he wanted them to, he’d have his hands full tomorrow. He decided to call Vince and clue him in about what was going on. If things didn’t work out, he didn’t want his partner coming home to an ugly surprise.

  Chapter 20

  Ellie woke before the sun rose on Monday, her mind on Sam, the Lowensteins, and Rudy’s spy report. She’d left one message on Sam’s phone last night, and she wasn’t going to leave another. His note said he had a ton of work to do, and so did she. If Agent BTS was right, something was going on in the Carmella Sunday case, and she wanted in.

  After taking Rudy for a first quick walk, she showered and supervised their morning routine. Then she put on a coat, hat, and gloves, ready to get an early start on the day. “Do you need your sweater?” she asked her boy before they went out the door.

  “Nah. It was warm on run number one. I’ll be okay.”

  Outside, they walked west on Sixty-sixth. The brilliant sun and blue sky brightened her outlook. The melting snow was washing away the salt and chemical deicers, and warmer temperatures and clean sidewalks meant she wouldn’t need to stop and put coats and booties on every dog she walked.

  With one less thing to worry about, she had time to work on all the questions flooding her brain. Questions with no answers, unless she found the solutions herself. The who, what, when, where, and why of Carmella’s murder were driving her crazy.

  Instead of internalizing, she began to mutter. “Why would Sam want to talk with Judge Lowenstein in private?” They crossed Third Avenue. “What does Judge McDonald have to do with it?” They waited for the light to change at Lexington. “And why did Sam want to know about the Lowensteins’ personal life? There’s a connection. I just can’t figure out what any of it has to do with Rob’s case.”

  Before they crossed Madison, Rudy broke into her thoughts. “I think you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree, Triple E. Let’s take a look at what we do know instead of what we don’t.”

  Ellie smiled. “How come your brain is always one step ahead of mine?”

  “I got more senses to work with than you. You can see and hear okay, but I got the nose. And right now I smell somethin’ as rotten as a fish left out in the sun too long.”

  “Okay, we’ll go at it from your point of view. What do we know?” They turned left on Fifth Avenue and aimed for the Beaumont. “One: Someone, either a performer or a stranger, entered Rob’s dressing room on the opening night of the revue.” She began ticking off fingers. “Two: Said person and Carmella Sunday had an argument, and a man grabbed a pair of shears from a dressing table and stabbed her dead. Three: Carmella was blackmailing someone, and that someone is probably the killer.”

  Rudy inspected a pile of yellow snow hiding his favorite fire hydrant and raised a leg. “Keep countin’ down.”

  Walking into the Beaumont, she waved at Natter and aimed for the elevator. “That’s all I’ve got. According to Stanley, Lowenstein is a good judge, but he’s made a few enemies along the way. So what?”

  “All that has muscle, but you’re forgetting one important thing. We still got Bitsy, and she’s our ace in the hole. Why don’t we use her?”

  They rode the elevator skyward, picked up Cheech and Chong, Lulu, Bruiser, Satchmo, and Ranger, said a pleasant good morning to each dog, and continued to discuss the situation. “Yes, but do we bring her to the Cranston and let the chips fall, or do we bring her to Madame Orzo for another psychic experience?”

  “Forget Madame Orzo until you see how Bitsy’s doing. She might have had a breakthrough over the weekend all on her own. She could have remembered something about what the hit man wore, or figured out what Carmella and the killer were arguin’ about.”

  “Ooh, I love it when you talk like a detective,” Lulu broke in. “It’s so—so—Dragnet, or Perry Mason. Wait! Make that Quincy, or—or—Kojak.” She stopped walking and danced around Rudy. “I know, I know! Columbo.”

  Ellie raised an eyebrow and Lulu sniffed. “I can’t help it if all Flora watches is those ancient TV detective shows.”

  With that, Rudy skulked into his wolf-on-the-hunt pose. “I just wish I could figure a way to get INS over here,” he mumbled, giving the evil eye to the two Chihuahuas. “Maybe I should make a citizen’s arrest.”

  “You’re both being silly,” said Ellie as they crossed Fifth to the park. “Forget about Cheech and Chong and those corny television detective series and get back on track.”

  The canines did their business while Ellie stewed. Rudy was right. Bitsy was the key. She’d been to the Lowensteins’ once or twice, and that was when she had relapsed into her seriously upset routine. Ellie had blamed it on nerves, but maybe she’d been wrong. Had she made a mistake? Had she missed an important clue?

  She led the crew back to the Beaumont. “I’m going to change up the walks. We’ll pass the Davenport, and do Pooh and Tigger’s building next. Then we’ll backtrack to the Davenport, walk the normal group, and take Bitsy on a trip to the Cranston.”

  “And once we’re there, something will ring a bell in her tiny brain, and we can unravel this mess for good.”

  Relieved that she finally had a plan of action, she returned the pack to their apartments, then rode the elevator down while she continued to talk. “If Sam thinks he has a ton of work to do, he needs to live in my world,” she said under her breath.

  “Yeah,” mumbled Rudy. “We got a friend accused of murder, while Detective Dipstick is botherin’ judges, and we got the answer to the murder right in the palm of our hand—er—paw.”

  “All we have to do is put the pieces together,” Ellie agreed.

  “Say, Ellie?”

  “Our problem is how to convince Sam we have an eyewitness to the crime.”

  “Hey, Triple E!”

  They landed in the Beaumont lobby, and she finally paid attention to her boy. “What?”

  “I know you want to work this out, but you gotta stop talking out loud. There were other humans in the elevator and you never even knew th
ey were there.”

  She nodded to Natter as they headed out the door. “Are you saying I talk too much?”

  “Not too much. But you’re so used to gabbin’ with us canines, you’ve started sayin’ everything out loud. One of these days, the wrong thing is gonna slip out and you’ll be in trouble.”

  “Fine. I’ll try to contain myself. Just don’t get mad if you’re the last one to know my plans.”

  They passed the Davenport and entered Sara’s building. When she got the dogs on the street, they were so busy nosing piles of slushy snow they didn’t speak. Which was good, because she had enough on her mind without having to intervene in a canine squabble or answer silly questions.

  “I bet we’re gonna put ten extra miles on today, makin’ all these trips back and forth. I’m dizzy just thinkin’ about it,” complained Rudy as they headed for the Davenport.

  “Oh, hush. Once we’re finished helping Rob, we’ll be back on our regular schedule.” They walked into the complex. “Good morning, Randall.”

  “You’re here a bit early today,” the older man said. He wore his standard uniform, complete with a bright red carnation. “Is something happening I should know about?”

  “Nope, but I have to do the building in a single run today. It’s everybody out and back, Bradley included.”

  “Ah, yes. The big dog. He reminds me of a pony I had as a child. All he needs is a saddle.”

  “Just don’t try to ride him, or you’ll end up losing a chunk of your arm.”

  The doorman grinned. “Right you are. See you in a few minutes.”

  They collected their regular charges, then stopped to pick up Bradley and Bitsy. When she heard a snurffle from under the door, Ellie put a finger to her lips and gazed at her pack. “This is important, guys. No fighting, and no smart comments. I want this run to go fast and clean, understand?”

  The canines stared back, their faces solemn, their voices quiet. She decided each of them would get an extra biscuit when she took them home, as a thank-you for being so cooperative.

  She knocked, then used her key when no one answered at Rob’s. Opening the door, she found Bradley staring with his usual suspicious glare while Bitsy jumped under his belly. “So, Bits, how did the weekend go?” she asked as she clipped the poohuahua’s lead on.

  “Quiet. Rob did his shows and came straight home. He didn’t even take me with him.”

  The pack entered the elevator and rode it down. “Did that give you time to think?”

  Crossing the Davenport lobby, they arrived on Fifth Avenue. “I thinked a lot, and I know somethin’.”

  Now on the park side of the street, Ellie cocked her head and Rudy did the same. “Good for you. Can you share?”

  “The argument the bad person was having with Carmella? It was about money.”

  She nodded to her boy when Bitsy did her squat and drop. “Do you remember anything else?” Rudy asked her. “Like the sound of the voice? Was it familiar?”

  Bitsy shook from head to tail, and it was a regular doggie shake, a big relief to Ellie. “What if we asked you to come with us to another building? The building where I think you heard a similar voice? Would that be okay?”

  “If it’ll help Rob, I’ll do it.”

  “That’s the spirit. We’ll drop the gang off, go to the Cranston and take that crew out, and when we’re done, we’ll stop at the Lowensteins’.”

  Frustrated, Sam huffed out a breath. He’d been on the phone all morning and he still didn’t have his gun. According to regulations, he wouldn’t get it back until he talked to the department shrink, but Dr. Garber was out for the next two days and booked solid for the rest of the week, so how in the hell was he supposed to do his job?

  “Stop pacing,” said Vince, tapping at his computer keyboard. “I’m on it.”

  “What’s taking so long?” Sam asked, running a hand through his hair. “You talked to the judge and the DA two hours ago.”

  “Don’t look at me, pal. The DA’s running the show now. He’ll let us know when the warrant’s ready.”

  “Yeah, fine.” Sam sat in his desk chair. “Our probable cause is shaky. I bet I blew it with McDonald when I approached him at that party.”

  Vince raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Just give it a rest. The DA agreed with the request, which means he thought it was fine. When we get the warrant, we’ll leave. Who do you want to send to the judge’s chambers? And how many officers do you want at the apartment?”

  “Two should be enough for the courthouse. I can’t believe he’d take anything from the murder there, but we have to cover the bases. Two more and a forensic team for the apartment. I didn’t find a firearm permit for either the judge or his wife, so I don’t think we’ll have a problem. If I remember correctly, Ellie said Mrs. Lowenstein went to a health club every day and the judge left early for his office.” Sam hunched over his desk and snapped open his cell phone. “I’m gonna make sure Lowenstein is where’s he’s supposed to be.”

  Ten minutes later, he disconnected the call. “Judge Lowenstein cleared his calendar for the day. His clerk told me he got the message late last night, which means he did it after I grilled him at the party.”

  “Hell. He could be home right now, getting rid of evidence.” Vince stood and headed for the door. “Give me ten minutes. I’ll get the officers and forensics on board, and rattle the DA’s cage.” He pointed a finger at Sam. “You sit there and chill. Get the search straight in your head.”

  Sam didn’t know what they’d turn up, but time was running out. He’d jumped the gun grilling Lowenstein on Saturday night, but he’d been following protocol. Now that he had the court records and the bank info, it all fit like a custom-made glove. Lowenstein had presided over Carmella’s last trial for prostitution, a trial the DA was positive would send the cross-dresser to jail. Instead, the guy had walked.

  Three months later, the judge made his first withdrawal, and after that, like clockwork, he’d withdrawn five big ones from two different banks every month. The next day the same amount, give or take, had been added to Art Pearson’s account.

  The Pearson/Sunday stabbing had been a crime of passion, not premeditation—of that he was certain. If Chesney, a cast member, or one of the workers inside the club hadn’t done the deed, the killer had to have come from outside. Since it was the freakin’ middle of February, the perp was probably wearing a coat, maybe gloves. With all the blood at the scene, something he wore had to have a trace of the spatter.

  So that was where he would start the search: closets first, in every room, including the bath. They’d collect all the judge’s shoes, coats, scarves, anything that might have a trace of bodily fluid.

  Sam drummed his fingers on the desk. He had thought the apartment would be empty, but that was a pipe dream. Since the judge wasn’t in chambers, he could be home, so they’d concentrate on the apartment. If Lowenstein was there, they’d bring him in.

  Vince stuck his head in the doorway. “Okay, pal, rise and shine.” He waved a few sheets of paper in his hand. “We’ve got what we need.”

  Ellie, Rudy, and Bitsy arrived at the Cranston and walked across the polished black marble floor. The interior, with freshly hung burgundy wallpaper, appeared more spacious than she remembered, probably because the walls were devoid of artwork while the remodeling was going on. She imagined that once the decorating was finished, this building would look as upscale as the other complexes on the Upper East Side.

  When they stood at the desk, the new doorman, an older fellow with a shock of white hair that resembled a cotton swab, looked up from the papers he’d been sorting and stared through shifty gray eyes. “Name?” he asked, tapping a pen on his clipboard.

  “Ellie Engleman,” she said, smiling. She held out her hand, hoping to get off on the right foot with—she read the name on his badge—Sherman Farkas. “I’m one of the building’s dog walkers. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Farkas.”

  Ignoring the gesture, Sherman shot her a look of
impatience. “You’re down for Three-C, Keene; Four-A, Fielding; Nine-C, Dorfman; Ten-B, Heinz; and Eighteen-C, Gordon. I’ve been told by the Lowensteins in Twelve-G that your services are no longer needed. Please turn in your key.”

  “Say what?” yipped Rudy.

  The Lowensteins are firing me?

  Dropping her hand, Ellie stood there in shock. “I’m sorry. There must be some mistake. Neither of the Lowensteins called me to say I was off the job.”

  “Yeah, well, them’s the breaks. Oh, and they asked me to give you this.” He passed her a business-sized white envelope. “Key, please.”

  She fished the ring from her tote, found the correct key, and unclipped it. “Are you certain about this?” she asked him, still clutching the metal.

  “Just doing my job, lady.” He tapped his pencil on the desk and held out his other hand. “Key, please.”

  Well, crap. There was no use making a scene. The guy was following orders, though he didn’t have to look so happy while he did it. “Okay, here you are.” She dropped the key in his open palm. “This is a surprise, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to see what’s in this envelope before I go up.”

  “Whatever.” Farkas returned to the clipboard.

  “Read it out loud,” Rudy demanded. “I got a right to know why we’re bein’ let go, too.”

  Ellie dropped to one knee and slit open the envelope. “Okay, here goes,” she whispered. 'Ms. Engleman. In regard to Sampson, please accept this check for one month’s service as termination of our verbal dog-walking agreement. No further contact is necessary. Judge and Mrs. Norman Lowenstein.’”

  “Well, that says a lot.”

  “Sort of odd, don’t you think? Especially since Mariette and I had a nice conversation about Sampson at the party. Do you think the judge’s discussion with Sam had something to do with this?”

  “Are you kidding? It downright stinks. No need to tell you I’m smellin’ dead fish again.”

  “I’m sorry, Ellie,” Bitsy added. “Rob and I would never do that to you.”