Heir of the Dog

by Judi McCoy

  “No mister. Just Benedict,” he supplied, still smiling. “And you’re Ellie, right?”

  “You have a good memory.”

  “I may be old, but I don’t forget meeting pretty young women. As for your question, it’s a nice morning so I decided to take a stroll. Exercise is good for a weak ticker.”

  Rudy pulled on the lead. “Stop talking and make tracks, Triple E. The doofus dick is coming, remember?”

  “I hope it’s nothing serious.”

  He shrugged. “Time takes its toll, you know?” He scanned the sidewalk. “Coming back from the park, are you?”

  “Not that far. We just took a quickie because we’re having company for breakfast.” Rudy sniffed the man’s sneakers while he continued to growl, and Ellie realized the only way to calm him was to get rid of Benedict and return to their apartment. “Since he’s done with business and we’re almost home, I have to get moving. It was nice talking to you.”

  “Same here,” he said. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

  His stride hesitant, he walked past her building, then hung a right and rounded the corner, and she heaved another sigh. Benedict was a nice guy who liked dogs, that was all. Unfortunately, even after this mess with Gary’s murder was over, she doubted she’d ever be able to relax in the company of a solitary older man. And what was up with Rudy?

  “Did you have to be so disagreeable?” she asked, heading toward their apartment. “The guy just wanted to talk.”

  “Don’t you think it’s strange, him finding you at this hour of the morning, in the middle of the millions of people in this city? I mean, what are the chances?”

  “Very slim, I guess, but Milton found me, which made Sam crazy I might add.”

  “See, I’m not the only one watching out for you.”

  “So now you’re on Ryder’s side? Make up your mind.” She jogged up the steps and into the building’s foyer. “Benedict is no threat.”

  “I don’t agree. There’s something about him—”

  “There’s something about you. You find fault with every man who speaks to me. Old, young, tall, short, cop, lawyer, retired, it doesn’t matter. This has got to stop.”

  “I’ll stop as soon as you get wise.”

  “Wise? Are you saying I have to be on guard against all persons of the male persuasion?” They entered the lobby and climbed the stairs. “How about my doctor, my dentist, or Randall? I know you don’t care for Sam, but he’d never hurt me . . . at least, not physically.”

  “Okay, so the dippy dick wouldn’t shoot you or knock you around. Neither would Dr. Dave or Stanley or the doorman. If you’d let me have another sniff of that McGowan guy, I’d give you the skinny on him, too, raging pheromones or not.”

  “Why do you think all men are creeps looking to take advantage of a single woman? I know there aren’t any bad guys in your history—unless you count that crazed taxi driver who mowed you down eleven years ago.”

  “Let’s just say I can smell a psycho a mile away, and leave it at that.”

  “Fine, but unless your radar jumps off the screen and bites you in the butt, keep your thoughts to yourself. I’ll tell you the same thing I’ve been telling Sam and Viv—I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

  “You don’t get it, do you? It’s my job to watch out for you. It’s one of the reasons I was sent back.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. And before you start the grilling, no, I don’t know it for sure. I just have a gut feeling. Call it canine instinct or whatever.”

  Unlocking her apartment door, Ellie gave up arguing. The idea that Karma had reunited them so Rudy could be her guardian angel was a shock akin to the first time she’d heard him speak in her head. Either way, she refused to think about it. She’d had enough surprises over the past week to last a lifetime.

  “How about we talk this over later—or better yet, never. My brain hurts. Sam will be here soon, and I have to get the kitchen ready.”

  She unsnapped Rudy’s lead, and he strutted to the kitchen with his tail and muzzle high. Great. He was angry with her.

  “How about if I promise to be more alert . . . more vigilant, whatever you want to call it, from now on?” She dropped to a squat and scratched his ears. “If you get a really bad vibe, I promise to remove myself from the questionable person’s presence as soon as it’s politely possible.”

  “Is that the best you can do?” he grumped.

  “Yes.”

  “Then I have to accept it . . . for now.” Dancing in a circle, he changed the topic. “Can’t wait for the dope with the bagels, Triple E. I need my morning nibble, the sooner the better.”

  Sam sat at Ellie’s kitchen table sorting through the brittle newspapers she’d found in Gary’s storage box. Stacking them in piles from oldest to most current, he placed them on the floor while Ellie took on the task of opening the yellowed packets of mail—even those dating back several years, on the off chance she’d uncover a clue related to the vagrant’s murder.

  They’d shared a friendly breakfast and worked in silence for the last thirty minutes. Thanks to fate, he had the day off, and he wasn’t going to waste it. He’d thought about her last night and awakened with a decision. It was time to put their relationship back on the front burner.

  Though Ellie didn’t know it, he planned to buy her lunch, then accompany her to the gym and observe her first self-defense lesson. Phil knew his stuff, but Sam wanted to be certain she cooperated and took his pal’s instructions to heart. Just imagining his bad penny, the queen of nonviolence, sparring with the bantam rooster ex-boxer made him smile. Unfortunately, he’d have to curtail his amusement or she’d probably read him the riot act and get on her high horse about everything on which they didn’t agree.

  He glanced over the top of the newspaper he’d been reading when she gasped. “What?”

  “I found something.” She held a crumpled envelope in one hand and an equally crumpled sheet of paper in the other. “From Thompson Veridot.”

  The sight of her pale face, coupled with the telling words, put him on alert. “You going to keep me in suspense, or tell me what it says?”

  She licked her lips. “Shall I read it out loud?”

  “It’s an idea.”

  Clearing her throat, she began:Gary,

  Guess what, chickenshit. I’ve done my time, and I’ll be out of the joint any day now. I know where you live, so don’t try to hide. I’ll find you, and if you don’t have my money, well, let’s just say you’ll be seeing Mom and Dad a lot sooner than I will.

  Your loving brother,

  Thompson

  Sam held out his hand, and Ellie shuddered as she passed him the page. “Now I understand why Gary wrote what he did in that note we found in the safety-deposit box. Gruning will have to pay attention to your theory after he reads this.”

  “Not necessarily,” he warned after reading the letter. “A threat doesn’t constitute guilt, though it might make Gruning move on that APB.”

  Ellie leaned forward in the chair. “But he’s got to. Veridot is practically confessing to Gary’s murder.”

  “Is there a legible postmark on that envelope?” he asked after reading the letter a second time.

  “May something. The ink is smudged.” She passed him the envelope. “Probably right about the time he was released from prison.”

  “I’ll bring this to Gruning, but you have to understand, he’ll have questions.”

  “Of course he will. He’ll want to know more about Thompson Veridot.”

  “That’s not what I mean. It’s you he’ll want to talk to.”

  She huffed out a breath. “Me?”

  “Think about it. First, he’ll ask how you got your hands on this letter. When you tell him where it came from, he’ll ask how you knew about the box. After you explain that you found a key at the murder site, which you didn’t bring to him, and took it upon yourself to locate whatever it opened, he’ll explode, and charges of obstruct
ing an ongoing investigation are sure to follow.” He frowned at her indignant expression. “If I was the officer in charge, that’s what I’d do. Remember, I told you not to snoop. Maybe next time you’ll listen.”

  “You’d never do that to me . . . would you?”

  He raised a brow. “I thought about it plenty of times during the Albright case.”

  “But you—we went out.”

  “After the case wrapped, not during, and I doubt Gruning has a single thought about getting to know you on a personal level, so the analogy won’t fly.”

  “You’re confusing things. Gruning insisted he didn’t want my help. I took that to mean he didn’t want to know about anything I found.”

  “What he meant was for you to keep your nose clean and let the police do their job.”

  Ellie thrust out her lower lip. “That’s just your interpretation. You said yourself he’s a terrible detective who always takes the easy way out. He should be happy I’m doing his legwork.”

  “He won’t be happy with anything you do. And if he can find a way to screw your ass—er—you to the wall, he will.”

  “Well, great. Now what do we do?”

  “Lie.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’ll rearrange the truth a little, tell him we went to the shelter together and I did the snooping and found the key. When I explained it was evidence, you let me keep it, even though it’s yours by law. I was the one who decided to hunt up the storage place and find the box to save Gruning the time and effort. After you and I went over what was inside, I brought this letter to his attention like any good cop would do to help solve a case in progress.”

  “If he finds out you’re lying, you could get in trouble.” She placed a palm on the back of his hand. “I don’t want you to do that for me.”

  “Yeah, well . . .” He tried to ignore the rush of feeling clogging his chest. Sometimes it paid to play the white knight. “If you keep the details to yourself, I’ll be okay.” He glanced at the clock over the sink. “It’s close to noon. How about I take you to lunch, and then we go to the gym for your lesson?”

  “Lunch?” Her cheeks turned pink. “Um, I can’t.”

  “I know we just had breakfast, but . . . why not?”

  Avoiding his gaze, she fiddled with a napkin. “I have to go shopping.”

  He swallowed his surprise. “You’re blowing off a self-defense lesson to shop?”

  “I’m going to the lesson, but I have to find a dress first.” She carried their coffee cups to the sink and turned, resting her backside against the counter. “And before you ask, it’s because of a previous engagement.”

  “A date?” When she bit her lower lip, he had his answer. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

  “It’s just dinner and the theater.” Her face flamed red. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “Let me guess. You’re going out with that lawyer.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Hey, it’s none of my business.” He stuffed Thompson Veridot’s letter in the envelope and stood. The sobering news was a great reward for his knightly services. “There’s no need to show me to the door. I know the way.”

  “It’s not what you think.” Ellie stepped toward him, but he continued walking. When she touched his shoulder as he opened the front door, he turned. “Look, you can date whoever you want. Just promise me you won’t skip that lesson at Phil’s.”

  “I wasn’t going to, honest.”

  His cell rang, and he pulled the phone from his belt. “Ryder.”

  “Hey, buddy,” said his partner, Vince. “Sorry to call on your day off, but there’s been a gang altercation. I was told to bring you in and report to the site. They expect every available body to show.”

  “Where?”

  Vince rattled off the location, and Sam committed it to memory. “Got it. I’ll be there ASAP.”

  “Did something bad happen?” asked Ellie.

  “Sounds like. So things wouldn’t have worked out anyway.” I was stupid for thinking they could. “I’ll take care of the letter and let you know what Gruning says.” Heading out the door, he added, “See you around.”

  Chapter 16

  After cabbing to Gramercy Park, Ellie opened the door next to a Greek restaurant and read the list of tenants posted on the wall above the mailboxes. According to the signs, the second floor was home to a CPA office, a security firm, and a nail salon, while the third floor hosted a one-word business: GYMNASIUM. After she climbed two flights of worn stairs that dead-ended on a small landing with a gray-painted metal door, she gave serious thought to going home. With no information on hours or the services available, she wondered if she even had the right place.

  The D had insisted she belong to a health club. The one she used to visit regularly had a light and airy ground floor waiting room filled with the pleasant scent of flowers and aromatherapy candles. After signing in, clients walked to an immaculate dressing room, stored their street clothes in a roomy personal locker, and changed into workout gear. On the way to the actual gym area, customers passed a sauna, massage rooms, and a spa boasting facials, waxing, electrolysis, manicures, pedicures, and an array of other beauty treatments.

  Judging by the sad condition of this particular entryway, if this was the correct business, she had zero chance of receiving the same intimate attention.

  Juggling her tote bag and the hanger holding her new beaded navy blue sheath, she knocked. She’d spent so long shopping, she hadn’t been able to drop the dress at home and still be on time for her class. After knocking a second time, she took a deep breath, opened the door, and peered inside.

  In seconds, she was overcome by the intense odor of perspiration commingling with the smell of alcohol, some type of muscle balm, and the aroma of Greek cuisine. Inching her head through the doorway, she called a brave “Hello?”

  A couple of men hitting an enormous leather bag gazed at her in silence, as did a jumbo-sized guy lifting free weights, and a slimmer slugger smacking a hanging bag. Each man was shirtless, showing a sweaty, well-muscled, and hairless chest, and each wore baggy shorts that flopped around their meaty legs like flags fluttering in a breeze.

  “Is this Phil’s gym?” she continued.

  “Who wants to know?” asked the taller of the two men at the punching bag.

  “May I come in? I have an appointment.”

  “Hey, Phil,” he shouted. “Your three o’clock’s here.” He nodded his shaved head, indicating she should enter.

  Ellie pretended not to notice the men’s smug smiles and stepped into the room, jumping when the door slammed behind her. Waving a hand in front of her face to help defuse the odors, she sensed that thanks to her ensemble—pale pink sweatpants, a matching T-shirt, and sneakers touted as aerobically designed—she was laughably overdressed for this setting.

  The four men went back to their exercises, and a figure approached from a door at the back of the room. Weaving between a few more hanging bags, a couple of stands holding free weights, and a bench press, the man strutted toward her like the person in charge.

  As he neared, Ellie realized he was short, about five five in his black lace-up shoes, with arms like tree trunks and a chest as broad as a door. He held out his hand and his battered face, with a scar slicing his left eyebrow, a once-broken nose, and a pugnacious jaw, appeared almost presentable.

  “Ms. Engleman?” He clasped her outstretched hand and gave it a punishing shake. Taking her in from head to toe, he continued to grin. Then he caught sight of her new dress. “I hope you’re not planning to wear that for your lesson.”

  Despite her apprehension, she smiled at his teasing tone. Though she had to look down to meet his questioning gaze, it was obvious he was a take-charge man who enjoyed a good laugh. “No, but I do need to store it somewhere safe.”

  “No worries there. I doubt it would fit any of the boys. Follow me and I’ll show you around.”

  They went through the door from which he’d entered
, winding past equipment and punching bags, and walked through an archway into a larger room holding something Ellie knew existed but had never seen in person. “Is that a boxing ring?”

  She regretted the words the moment they left her lips. Two men wearing padded helmets and baggy shorts were behind the ropes dancing and jabbing at each other, while a half dozen guys stood on the far side shouting encouragement. It couldn’t be anything but a boxing ring, with real boxers pummeling flesh in place of leather bags.

  He stopped and turned. “Yeah. Why?”

  “Nothing, it’s just that I—” Didn’t expect to be given a tour of a torture chamber. “I thought this was a—a—”

  “Health club?” The words shot from his mouth like a curse. “With a fitness room, fruity male trainers, and women who spend more time lookin’ in a mirror than working out?”

  “Yes—no!”

  “That’s okay. I’m not insulted. This is a professional gymnasium. We have some world-class hopefuls here, world-class trainers, too. Kid Shaneil came from that ring,” he said, as if expecting her to know the name.

  “Oh. How nice for you.”

  He grinned. “The Kid won a silver at the Olympics in China. He’ll be in London in 2012, and this time, God willing, the medal will be gold.”

  “That’s great.” He was so proud of the accomplishment, Ellie didn’t have the heart to admit that all she ever watched of the Olympics were gymnastics and the swimming and diving events. “When Sam said the lessons were at a gym, I just assumed . . .”

  He folded his tree-trunk arms and the muscles bunched to mammoth proportions. “Ryder’s a good guy. A little anal when it comes to his job, but still—” He blinked. “I thought he’d be with you.”

  “He planned to, until he got called out on a—a situation.”

  “Figures.” Phil nodded, indicating she should proceed ahead of him through a door on the right.

  This room, the largest of the three, was ringed with more weight training stations. The center of the floor was covered by a red padded mat about twenty feet square.