by Judi McCoy
“I’m not sure what will happen to the outfits created by the designers who don’t win the contest, but I heard NMD will own all the designs when this is through.” She topped the shrimp with rice and lifted her fork. “Even the ones created by the losers.”
His noncomment told her Sam really wasn’t interested, but she continued to talk about the contest, hoping to work her problem into the conversation. “I do have my fingers crossed for Kitty. Both of the designs she showed today were great, and she deserves to win after all that’s happened to her.”
He took another swig of beer. “What was her name again?”
“Uh—King—Kitty King.”
Sam leaned back in his chair. “Any relation to Jeffery King?”
Ready to take the plunge, she sucked in a breath. “So you heard about the arrest.”
“Word spreads quickly around the department.”
“Well, Jeffery is Kitty’s older brother and a really nice guy.” She sipped her tea, composing her words carefully. “Kitty says he’s innocent, you know.”
“What else would a sister say?” He scraped up the last of his dinner. “Word is the case is a lock, but you didn’t hear that from me.”
Ellie knew better than to break a confidence. She and Sam had developed an unspoken agreement over the months they’d lived together. She kept whatever he told her private, and he didn’t toss her in a padded room when she bombarded him with questions.
“Have you talked to Detective Vaughn?”
“Not me, but Vince spent some time with him. He told me Vaughn asked some specific questions about you.”
“Me?”
Sam grinned. “Yeah, but Vince did his best to convince Vaughn you’d keep your nose clean.”
“Sounds to me like you’re toast, Triple E.”
She glared at her boy, then said, “He did, did he?”
Sam cocked his head, much like Rudy did when he was confused. That’s when it dawned on her that some of their mannerisms were identical. If only they knew . . .
“Something funny?”
“Not exactly. It’s just that Vince really shouldn’t speak for me.”
“Hold on. Is this your way of telling me you are going to stick your nose in this murder?”
She took another swallow of tea, hoping the warm drink would give her courage. “I planned on discussing it with you, so now is as good a time as any. I’ve been formally requested to look into . . . things.”
He sat up straight in his chair. “Formally requested? By who?”
“By Jeffery King’s employer, Nola Morgan Design. I met the owners of the company today, and they believe he’s innocent. To be honest with you, so do I.”
“Oh for—” He stood and carried their plates to the sink. “Ellie, I’m telling you now, do not get involved.” Turning, he leaned back against the counter. “Vaughn is a good detective, and he follows the rules. He won’t go easy on you if you fuck up his investigation.”
“I don’t intend to—to—do what you said,” she answered, avoiding the raw language that came out when he talked cop. “But I do think he has the wrong man. I may ask around, see if there’s anything I can find that will give Jeffery a leg up.”
“That’s a nice way to put it,” Rudy added.
“A leg up?” Sam frowned. “I don’t think you should help him in any way. Let Vaughn do the work.”
She stood and started boxing up the leftovers. “But Jeffery is already in jail. You know what that means as well as I do.”
When he didn’t answer, Ellie gave herself a mental high five. Once the cops thought they had the killer, the investigation for fresh leads stalled. “How about if I play by our new rules. I’ll ask around and if I find anything odd or suspect, I’ll tell you about it before I try to go further by myself. You offer guidance, and look into it if you think I’m on the right track.”
“When did we make that a ‘new’ rule?” he asked, pouting like a three-year-old.
Hiding a grin, she stored the cartons in the fridge. Then she walked to him and put her arms around his neck. “We made it a rule after Rob was arrested—remember? You set up guidelines and I agreed.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “I thought that was very reasonable, and now we can work it out. It’s a no-brainer, really.”
He blew out a breath, a sure sign that, this time, it was his turn to agree with her. Then he slid an arm around her and moved his hand under her sweater, where he rested his palm flat against her back. “Just promise me one thing: You won’t do anything stupid or dangerous.”
Shivers raced up her spine as his gentle touch brought her senses to attention. “There’s no way I’d be in danger with this one. Death by peanut is an off-the-wall way to kill someone, and since I don’t have any allergies . . .”
Pulling her closer, Sam nuzzled her neck. “I’d fall apart if anything happened to you.” Following the line of her jaw with his lips, he found her mouth. “Be careful, and if it looks like there might be trouble—”
His kiss made her knees weak and her heart hammer. She moaned, melting into his chest. “Sam, I—”
“Promise me, Ellie,” he said, biting her lower lip.
She nodded. “I promise.” But the words got lost when their mouths met in another mind-bending kiss.
Sam took her hand and led her down the hall. “I know it’s early, but I’m beat. You ready to call it a night?”
“Hey, what am I? Chopped liver?” said Rudy, walking behind them. “I need an out before we turn in.”
She crooked her arm in Sam’s, aware of how patient and quiet Rudy had been while they were talking. “I hate to tell you this, Mr. Romance, but I have a dog that needs a trip outside before we call it a night.”
He stopped at the bedroom door. “Not a problem. You get ready for bed and I’ll take the pest for a walk. How does that sound?”
“Lame.”
“Like a plan.” Ellie cupped his cheeks and drew him near. “I’ll be ready by the time you get back.” She rubbed her nose against his chin. “Just don’t be long.”
“Don’t count on it,” Rudy muttered, following him back to the kitchen. “I got a lot of business to do tonight.”
Ellie brought Rudy’s favorite pillow to the spare bedroom and exchanged it for one from the guest bed, which she would give to Sam. It was a habit she’d developed whenever Sam spent the night, and now that he’d moved in she continued the practice. Ever since she’d brought her boy home from the ASPCA shelter, he’d claimed the pillow next to hers, and he’d never expected that to change. But after they had a long talk, and she told him how important Sam was to her, he’d taken the move in stride.
And it really wasn’t so often they slept apart. Sam got called out at all hours several times a week, so Rudy had plenty of chances to sneak back into her room and reclaim his spot. To date, the pillow transfer was working so well, even her macho detective didn’t complain when he realized Rudy slept on his side of the mattress whenever he could.
Back in her room, she slipped her cell into the charger on her nightstand, then changed into a sleep shirt and headed for the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. According to tomorrow’s NMD timetable, she had the first few hours of the day free, which meant she could do her morning runs and check in with her regular charges.
Back in the bedroom, she phoned Amber and gave her the news. It was early enough, Amber assured her, that she could call her helpers and shift the responsibility around.
A few minutes later, the door opened and Sam’s footsteps sounded in the hall. When Rudy trotted in and put his front paws on her knees, she bent down and whispered, “That was fast. I assume you were a good boy.”
He huffed out a breath. “Sure, why not. The daffy dick took it easy, no draggin’ me up the street and back like he usually does, so I cooperated.”
Hugging him, she kissed the top of his head. “You are such a good dog. So good, in fact, that there’ll be a surprise tomorrow morning.”
He dropped to all fours and spun around. “A surprise! Tell me now! Tell me now!”
Sam came into the room and walked to the closet. “What’s up with your furry friend?” He unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it in his hamper, a routine he’d agreed to when they made up their “house rules.” “He acts like he wants food or playtime.”
“He knows he’s going to be doing something special tomorrow morning, that’s all.”
“Special how?” Sam stepped out of his slacks and hung them on a hanger, slipped off his T-shirt, and removed his socks and boxers. “Tell me. I can keep a secret.”
“Get me out of here,” Rudy said, staring at a well-muscled and naked Sam, who was clearly ready to take his woman to bed. “I’m getting testosterone overload.”
Ellie bit back a grin. “I called Amber because I have time to do my regular first run in the morning. That means Rudy will be seeing all his pals.”
“That’s it?” Sam grasped her hands and drew her to her feet. “He’s a nut job.”
“He’s just a normal dog, happy when I’m happy, sad when I’m sad. . . .” She moved near and he pressed his hips against her. “You know how much I love him.”
Sam kissed the side of her neck while his hands cupped her bottom. “As much as you love me?”
Their lips met and he coaxed her mouth open for more intimate contact. The heat from his body traveled through her, warming her to her toes. When he inched a hand up her back and around to her breast she sank into his touch and—
“’Scuse me, but I’m still in the room,” a voice called out.
Ellie untangled herself and heaved a breath, then picked up her boy. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Don’t be long,” said Sam, climbing under the covers.
“Ewww,” Rudy gruffed while she carried him. “Why did I have to see that?”
“Because you have a bad habit of hanging around when Sam and I are ready for private time.” She plopped him onto the mattress. “I always move your pillow, so you could have just gone straight to bed instead of asking questions.”
He gave her cheek a sloppy lick. “And I heard the answer.” He circled his pillow, then lay down. “We’re gonna see the gang, right?”
“Right.” Ellie stood. “Now get cozy and have a good night. We have a lot to do tomorrow.”
He tucked his nose under his paws. “I heard him ask you a question, too.”
She knew where he was going with the comment, so she rubbed his ears. “I love you both very much, but you’ll always be first in my heart.” Standing, she blew him a kiss. “I promise.”
Chapter 8
The next morning Ellie started her regular walk routine backwards, hoping to spend some time talking privately with Patti Fallgrave before she arrived at the Fashion Week facility. In order to do so, she and Rudy had to make the Cranston their first stop and work their way south, taking care of the dogs in Sara Studebaker’s building, then those in the Davenport, and finally her charges in the Beaumont.
“Good morning, Natter,” she said, greeting the doorman when they walked into the foyer.
“Ms. Ellie. What happened to Amber? I thought she was taking over for you this week.”
“She is, but I had some extra time this morning.”
“Well, it’s good to see you. You too, Rudy. Ms. Amber, she’s a nice lady, but you two always give me something to talk about with the missus.” His bushy eyebrows rose to his hairline. “Like the latest thing I read in the paper.”
Ellie headed for the elevator. She knew what the doorman was saying, and she didn’t want to comment.
But he continued talking as she walked away. “Did I read the headline right? Was somebody killed the other day during that show you and Ms. Fallgrave are working?”
“Um, yes, Patti and I were there.” She stood in front of the elevator and pushed the button. “I have to get moving.”
“The paper hinted it was a murder,” he said, his tone questioning. “And I was just wondering if you’d be mixed up in the investigation, like usual.”
Hearing him say “like usual” was bad enough. If Natter knew how she’d helped Viv’s sister find her fiancé’s killer in the Hamptons this past summer, she was certain he’d think she was ready to hang out a shingle reading ELLIE ENGLEMAN, PRIVATE EYE.
“Uh, no, no. Not me. Helping that client in the Davenport was my last brush with anything that has to do with murder.” Not wanting to be rude, she continued waiting for the door to open. “But I have to speak with Patti Fallgrave, and I don’t have much time.”
“Haven’t seen her yet, so she’s probably still at home.” He opened the main door for a tenant. “Go right up. I’m sure you’ll find her.”
“Thanks. I’ll be down with the gang soon.”
The young woman who entered the building needed the elevator, too, so Ellie let her in first. The woman, little more than a girl, really, had a pale face, made even paler because of her coal black eyebrows and deep red lips. Dressed as if it was a freezing day in January instead of a cool day in September, the woman eyed Rudy. “Are you one of the dog walkers in this building?”
“Yep, but this is my boy. Do you have a dog?”
She shook her head and her dark scarf slid to the back of her head, revealing pitch-black hair parted in the middle a la Morticia Addams. “Not me. They’re too much work.”
“Doesn’t sound like you’ll find another customer in this babe.”
Ellie figured Rudy was right, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t make polite conversation. “They can be, but that’s why people who love dogs hire me.”
“Then how about talkin’ to someone who cares, like me,” Rudy ordered. “Or Natter. He’s okay—for a human. Gives me the respect I deserve.”
“Oh, well, that won’t make me want one.”
“No problem,” said Ellie. She waited to answer Rudy until the Addams Family wannabe got out and the door closed. “Natter is definitely a good guy, but don’t you think it’s odd that he’d automatically assume I was involved in another murder investigation?”
“You’re kiddin’, right?” He snorted a laugh. “Since Patti’s been singin’ our praises, I’d worry if he didn’t think it. If you ask me, she’s doin’ a good job drummin’ up business, too.”
“Why do you suppose she’s so determined to get us on her bandwagon?”
“Beats me, but you oughta ask her. Maybe there’s somethin’ else cookin’ in that picture-perfect brain.”
After stepping on the Fallgrave sisters’ floor, they headed down a wide hallway. “Maybe I’m being too suspicious. Could be she was simply making polite small talk, not encouraging the NMD people to ask for our help.”
After knocking on the door and receiving no answer, she used her key to enter the apartment. A gentle wash of jazz filled the air along with the sound of a woman’s exceptional contralto. “I bet that’s Janice’s new album.”
A moment later, Janice Fallgrave appeared from the rear of the apartment cradling Chong, her ever-silent Chihuahua. She gave Ellie a grin and speed-walked to the wall of bookcases that housed her stereo system. Dressed in black slacks and a red top, the singer was the polar opposite of her tall, dark-haired supermodel sister. With curly blond hair and a petite but full-figured body, Janice had the face of an angel and a voice to match.
“I’m sorry about that,” she said after fiddling with the controls. Her cheeks flushed pink. “I don’t usually listen to myself, except in the studio, but this is a demo of my first album, so I thought I should hear it as if I were a paying customer.”
Ellie advanced with her arm outstretched. “Congratulations. You sound fabulous.” When she took Janice’s hand, the two girls automatically hugged. “You’ve worked so hard to get here.”
“I feel like I’m living in a dream world. This can’t be real.” She blinked back a tear. “It’s what I’ve wanted my entire life, and now that it’s going to happen I’m—I’m—” She snuggled her nose in Chong’s neck. “I
’m terrified.”
“Terrified?” Ellie sat next to her on the sofa. “What’s there to be afraid of? Fame? Success? Heck, you can handle that. Just use your older sister as a guide.”
“I know. Patti’s face and figure have been on the cover of some of the biggest fashion magazines in the world. In her business it’s all about the look. But in the music world . . . well, it’s not just your ‘sound.’” She used air quotes to emphasize the word. “You need something to draw people to you. Take Lady Gaga for instance. She’s a complete package—”
“And if you ask me, not a very good one. She pulled some stunt that got her thrown out of Yankee stadium last summer, and she did that disgusting meat thing at an awards show. Gross. Besides, you already have the perfect gimmick.”
“I do?”
“Sure.” She nodded at the tiny, fawn-colored canine Janice was cuddling. “You have Chong.”
“The hairless wonder?” grumped Rudy. “Oh yeah, he’ll be good. And when those immigration guys see him, out he’ll go.”
Ellie ignored the snarky comment and concentrated on her client. “Instead of being absurd or quirky, your push could be helping homeless animals. Give a concert for Best Friends, that wonderful animal rescue in Utah, or maybe find a shelter around here looking for a spokesperson or—or—”
The singer set her bitty baby on the sofa and covered her ears. “Stop. I can’t hear any more. Maybe you could take the place of my manager. All Jackson has suggested is buying a billboard in Times Square and getting me a gig singing ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’ at a Mets game.” She leaned back against the sofa. “It’s scary enough that I’ll be reviewed in People next month, and the album is on sale for Christmas.”
“Don’t worry. You have lots of time to work up a unique promotion idea.” Ellie scratched Chong’s pointy, oversized ears. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I have to talk to Patti. Is she getting ready to go to the show?”