Heir of the Dog

by Judi McCoy

  Viv raised an eyebrow. “Who was your first?”

  “My first?”

  “Yeah. Who did you give it up for?”

  “My husband.”

  “Wait a second. You said you didn’t meet him until your second year in college.”

  “First year, second. Who cares?”

  “Okay, whatever. But you gave your cherry to Larry Lipschitz?” Viv’s words bubbled out like irreverent squawks from a whoopee cushion. “Oh, God, you poor thing.”

  “I don’t see what’s so funny. No guy revved my engine, and I didn’t want to do something I’d be sorry for later.” All the male friends she’d made in college had treated her like a sister. Even Joe. “When the D asked me to marry him, there wasn’t anything better on the horizon, so I said yes, and that was that.”

  “Shows what happens when women aren’t raised to believe they’re the ones in control. If I ever have a daughter—”

  “Her birthday suit will be Gucci?”

  “That, too. So tell me, does Sam know you’re practically a virgin?”

  She lowered her voice. “I’ve slept with several men since the divorce.”

  “Define several.”

  “Counting Sam?”

  “I would if I wanted a decent number.”

  “Okay. Three.” When Viv bit back a grin, Ellie wanted to slug her. “Can we discuss this later?”

  “Sure, fine. Back to Gary’s ceremony. If you promise to hold it in broad daylight, I’ll come. I’m sure Sam will be there, too, if you ask him.”

  “Of course he will. Anything to annoy me.”

  They reached their complex steps, and Viv passed Ellie the Jack Russell’s leash. “Do me a favor and bring T in. I’m running late.”

  “It’s Friday,” Ellie stated, hoping to get them back on even keel. “Do you have a date?”

  “Possibly.” Viv fiddled with the strap on her Fendi briefcase. “I was hoping Dr. Dave would call.”

  “I thought he didn’t ask for your number?”

  “He didn’t, but he did ask where I worked, and I gave him my card. He could reach me at Kleinschmidt, Felder, and Wong.”

  “I’ll keep my fingers crossed.” Ellie climbed the stairs. “Like I said, I don’t mind fishing.”

  Viv’s eyes flashed a warning. “Absolutely not. I don’t need anybody trawling for my dates.” She ran a hand through her sleek dark hair. “What about that lawyer you had dinner with the other night? Wasn’t he supposed to be in touch?”

  “I’m not holding my breath. ‘I’ll call you’ is the oldest line in the book.”

  “I thought Sam apologized for his faux pas.”

  “He did. That doesn’t mean I can trust him.” Ever again. “If I’m lucky, he’s working late, which means he’ll give this ‘call me every day’ crap a rest.”

  Viv headed for the subway, walking backward as she spoke. “I’ll come up when I get home. We can talk then.”

  Ellie returned Mr. T to his apartment; then she and Rudy set out for the Beaumont while she thought about Sam. He’d bossed her around from the first moment they met. When he’d decided she was too nice to have killed the professor, she’d gone ballistic, and even that hadn’t changed his opinion of her. She was too tame, too innocent, too little-girlish to be woman enough for him. She simply didn’t float his boat.

  But if that was true, why did he continue to kiss her? He’d been too big a jerk to phone her after their one-night stand, so why did he care now?

  After strolling in silence for the first three blocks, Rudy chimed into her thoughts. “You don’t need Detective Dunce to protect you, Triple E. I won’t let that Thompson guy get you.”

  “That’s a very brave thing to say, my fuzzy friend, but you can’t stop a bullet.”

  “I’d take a bullet for you if the opportunity arose. Honest.”

  They waited for the light at Park Avenue to change. “I know, but I wouldn’t want you to do it. I wasn’t around to protect you ten years ago, and I refuse to let anything hurt you again. That includes putting your life on the line for me.”

  While talking, the hairs on the back of Ellie’s neck rose, and she took a look around. An older man standing next to her on the curb smiled.

  “Chatting with your dog or yourself?” he asked.

  When the WALK sign blinked, the pedestrians continued west. She focused in front of her, though she’d already seen his full head of gray hair and portly physique. Was she going to be suspicious of every older man she met, just because he matched Thompson Veridot’s sketchy description?

  “Myself,” she muttered, wishing he’d disappear.

  “He’s a cute little guy,” the man continued. “Kinda looks like a poodle, but not a poodle. What breed is he?”

  “I could bite him for you,” Rudy interjected. “Just say the word and it’s done.”

  “He’s a Yorkie-poodle mix.”

  The man started to say something else, but she ignored him and turned south at Fifth, heading for the Beaumont. She usually enjoyed talking to strangers, especially when they asked about Rudy, but Gary’s death had put a damper on her life in just about every way imaginable.

  “Hey, Engleman!”

  Having finished walking the dogs at the Beaumont, Ellie ignored Eugene’s nasal whine and plowed toward the Davenport. The last person she wanted to see before, during, or after her morning rounds was one of her competitors. Holding a conversation with him would only cause her further grief.

  “Hey, Engleman! Wait up!” he continued. “I got something I need to talk to you about!”

  She glanced skyward and prayed for patience, then turned to find her nemesis closing in like a heat-seeking missile. His summer wardrobe, a sleeveless, black mesh tee, a Band-Aid-sized pair of purple shorts, and ratty sneakers, only added to his sleaze quotient. She’d managed to avoid him for the past week, a nice move on her part. Sadly, it appeared as if her good luck was at an end.

  “What do you want, Eugene?” she asked as he drew near.

  His ferret face frowning, he took a drag on his cigarette and blew a stream of smoke in her direction. “I heard you’re the person in charge of that homeless guy that died, what’s-his-name—Gary?—his estate.”

  “You heard what?” How in the heck had word already reached the street that Gary had an estate, never mind that she was the one in charge of it? “And why is it any of your business?”

  “It’s my business”—he took another pull on the cigarette—“because the derelict owed me money. The way I understand it, it’s your responsibility to pay up.” Eugene dropped the butt and ground it under his heel. “Gary bummed cash from me all the time, and I want payback.”

  “He’s got to be kidding,” yipped Rudy.

  Ellie agreed. “First of all, I was a friend of Gary’s. and he never asked me for a dime. So why would he leech off you?” The biggest leech of all. “And secondly, I’d need proof of the loans. Do you have signed IOUs? Anything that says how much he owed you, or that he promised to return the cash?”

  Eugene raised a shaggy eyebrow. “Are you shittin’ me? The guy was a slug. He begged a buck here, a buck there, but it all adds up, ya know. I did my duty helpin’ him out and all, but I’m not running a charity. He owed me fair and square.”

  Amazed by Eugene’s vitriol, she grimaced.“Of course he did. Why would I think a nice guy like you would try to pull a fast one?”

  “Damn straight. Now about that money—”

  “Just out of curiosity, where did you hear that Gary left an estate? Homeless people rarely have anything of value to give to others when they pass.”

  “I forget where. Back to the debt—”

  Ellie folded her arms and leaned against the Davenport, intending to stare him down. “I refuse to discuss this until you tell me where you heard the rumor. Once your memory improves, we’ll talk about the loans.”

  Slick as a snake, the distasteful dog walker grabbed her wrist and gave it a yank. “Listen, you—”


  Without warning, Rudy lashed out, growling like a rabid wolf, and Eugene darted back. “Holy fuck. He bit me! I’m calling animal control.” He swiped at the doggie drool dampening his knobby knee. “Little monster.”

  “You came after me first,” Ellie said, tugging on Ru dy’s leash to hold him back. She squinted at Eugene’s hairy leg. “Besides, he didn’t break the skin.”

  “Yeah, but not for lack of trying. The turd should be put down. He’s a menace to society.”

  Squatting, she pulled Rudy near and picked him up, holding him close to stop his shivering. “You okay? Maybe you need a tetanus shot, something to kill the toxins.”

  “He tasted just like squirrel poop.” Rudy groaned. “Disgusting.”

  “Keep talkin’ to that canine of yours, and you’ll be the next one to get blown away.”

  Shocked, she inhaled a breath. Did this idiot actually know something about Gary’s murder? “What’s that supposed to mean? If you have information the police can use—”

  “Nope, not me. But Gary was nutty as a jar of Skippy, and so are you, specially when you hold those one-sided conversations with the dogs you walk.”

  She set Rudy on the ground and stepped toward Eugene. “Stay out of my life or I’m liable to prove you right.” She dug in her bag and brought out her Mace. “I might even go off the deep end and give you a shot of this stuff.”

  He held up his hands. “Hey, hey, hey! Enough with that shit. You are one crazy bitch.” He backed away, his face the color of a ripe tomato. “Just remember, I want my dough.” Stumbling backward, he turned and took off at a jog.

  Ellie returned the can to her bag and dusted off her hands. Too bad Sam hadn’t been here to see her tough-girl act and kick-ass attitude. Kneeling, she cupped Rudy’s muzzle in her palms. “You okay, big guy?”

  “That was awesome,” her pal yelped. “He screamed like a girl when I went on the attack.”

  “That’s not too difficult a feat when you’re a creep like Eugene. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  “I might be little, but I’m quick. He didn’t even see me comin’. I struck like a cobra, in and out. Almost got him, too.”

  “It’s a good thing you didn’t, or I’d be dealing with a lawsuit. Don’t ever go after anyone again, unless you’re positive I can’t handle them.” She stood. “Do you need a drink? Should I ask Dr. Dave to check you out?”

  He gave a full-body shake. “Nah. I’m fine. But a little mouthwash might be nice. Just to get the taste of squirrel poop out of my mouth.”

  She grinned. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Absolutely. Let’s get cranking.”

  “Ellie,” Randall began when they entered the Davenport lobby. “Do you want me to call the authorities? I heard the commotion and stuck my head out to see what was happening, but Eugene dashed off before I could think straight.”

  “We’re fine,” she told the doorman. “Just a little shook up. Rudy took care of him.”

  “Indeed.” He stooped to pat the Yorkiepoo’s head. “Your boy is quite the scrapper.”

  “He’s my big man,” she said with a smile.

  “If you don’t mind my asking, what was Eugene so upset about? Or was it simply his usual charming personality making its presence known?”

  “He seems to think Gary owed him money and I’m the one who should pay his debt.”

  “Really?”The doorman scratched his jaw.“I can’t imagine Eugene giving anyone spare change, even a homeless person.And from what you’ve told me about Gary, I doubt he’d make a friend of anyone of Eugene’s ilk.”

  “I agree. But Eugene did say something odd. Maybe you can help me figure it out.”

  “I’ll do what I can.”

  “He said people on the street know I’m in charge of Gary’s estate. How would anyone have found out about an inheritance, or that Rudy and I are Gary’s heirs?”

  “I heard rumblings yesterday, but my shift was over before you got here. My pat answer, of course, was a comment on how unreasonable it was to think a homeless person could even have such a thing as an estate.”

  “Do you remember who mentioned it?”

  Randall’s forehead wrinkled in concentration. “Eugene, naturally, and another dog walker. Said they heard it from a man they’d met in the park. That could be anyone, considering the riffraff hanging out there.”

  Or it could have been Thompson Veridot. Hiding a shiver, she led Rudy to the elevator. “Let me collect my charges. We’ll talk when I get back.”

  Ellie and Rudy rode up, gathered the herd, and headed for the lobby. Forty-five minutes later, they returned the dogs to their homes, wrote progress notes, and stopped downstairs, but Randall was nowhere in sight.

  “Guess we’ll catch him tomorrow,” she told Rudy as they took off for their next building. “Remind me to ask Kronk this afternoon. He seems to have his ear to the ground all the time.”

  On the walk to the Cranston, her phone rang.

  “Ellie, here.”

  “Ellie, it’s Kevin. Sorry I didn’t call sooner.”

  She stopped in her tracks. It had been a while since she’d dealt with a man who kept his word. “It’s not a problem. I’ve been busy.”

  “Too busy to go out tomorrow night for dinner and a show? I managed to get tickets to Spamalot.”

  “Oh, well, ah, sure. I hear that’s a great musical.”

  “Good. I’ll pick you up. Six o’clock. We can eat at a favorite place of mine in the Theater District, then walk to the theater. How does that sound?”

  “Wonderful. See you tomorrow.”

  She closed her cell, dropped it in her bag, and put a spring in her step. Dinner and a show. She hadn’t seen a Broadway play since the D had taken her and a dozen of his clients to the revival of Man of La Mancha. The evening had been fabulous, right up until her ex told her she was only allowed to order an appetizer for her meal. The night was costing him a fortune, and he didn’t want to waste the money on her.

  “What’s the difference between a lawyer and a gigolo?” Rudy asked, interrupting her thoughts. “And make it snappy.”

  “Make it snappy? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means if you think about that dweeb of a lawyer any longer, we’re gonna walk right by our next stop.” He dug his heels in and halted in front of the Cranston. “Just because that McGowan guy called like he said he would doesn’t mean he’s any better than the rest of the legal profession.”

  “You seemed to like him when you met him at Mother’s.”

  “He was okay—barely.”

  “Then I have your approval to date him?”

  “As long as he treats you right. But one false move and I’ll take him down a peg or two.”

  “I’ll make sure to tell him so.”

  They entered Hilary’s complex and took the elevator to her floor. “Good morning,” she said when the woman opened her apartment door. “How are you today?”

  Hilary’s Cole Haan sport shoes were an odd contrast to her yellow silk Dolce & Gabbana walking suit and the matching diamond necklace and bracelet adorning her size-four body. “I’m feeling better, thank you. Let’s go.”

  Cuddles stood dancing at her feet. “Rudy, hiya. I miss you lots ’n’ lots, bud.”

  “Well, I don’t miss you, and I’m not your bud,” he grumped. “And stay away from my butt.”

  Ellie pulled at his leash. “Be nice.”

  Hilary locked her door and followed them to the elevator. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be comfortable talking to the dogs I walk the way you do.”

  They arrived at their first client’s unit, and Hilary unlocked the door. “It’s just a habit I’ve gotten into,” Ellie explained. “After my divorce, it was nice having someone listen who didn’t argue or judge.”

  “There is that,” Hilary agreed. “If I didn’t have Cuddles to talk to, I’d cry myself to sleep every night. It’s just that when you speak, it sounds as if you actually expect an answer.”

>   “I’ve been doing it for so long, it’s become second nature. I hope that—I mean—you don’t think I’m crazy, do you?”

  “Crazy?”

  “You know, for talking to them. Has anyone ever told you they thought I had a couple of screws loose?”

  They continued their rounds, picking up Sampson, Millie, and Dilbert, but instead of handling the dogs, Ellie took stock of Hilary’s expertise, though she continued asking how she might be perceived by others.

  “Heavens, no,” said Hilary as they hit the street. “From what I can tell, your clients and their dogs love you.”

  Marginally buoyed by the comment, Ellie asked, “So, are you going to keep this job?”

  “I’d like to. I’m just worried about my husband and his sleazy attorney.” She rested her fingers on the multi-carat diamond necklace. “I’m thinking of selling my jewelry and giving the money to my sister to hold for me. I wouldn’t put it past them to convince the judge I should hock it and give Richard half the value.”

  “Is your husband still harping because you work for me?”

  “What I’d really like to know is how he found out about the job to begin with. Have you had a chance to ask any of the people in my building?”

  “I called and left a few messages, but no one got back to me, so I’m guessing they haven’t spoken to him. Maybe he’ll let it go.”

  They crossed Fifth Avenue and headed for the park. Once there, Hilary donned her mask and latex gloves, scooped the poop and bagged it, and dropped it in the trash in record time. In between, she continued to comment on her situation.

  Half an hour later, they left Hilary at the entrance to her complex and went to their last building of the morning while Ellie continued to ponder Eugene’s strange statements. How had he heard about Gary’s estate or known she was the executor? What did he mean when he said she might be the next one blown away?

  “Hey, stop thinkin’ about Gary and get back to my question.”

  “What question?”

  “What’s the difference between a lawyer and a gigolo?”

  She gave him an eye roll. “I don’t know. What’s the difference?”

  “A gigolo only screws one person at a time.”