Begging for Trouble (17 page)

“Yes, you woke me, but it’s all right. My alarm would have gone off in another hour or so.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed. Might as well take her medicine, or whatever it was her mom planned to dish out. “What’s up?”

“We have yet to receive your RSVP.”

RSVP?
“Uh, clue me in, Mom. What reply are we talking about?”

“The one you should have sent back regarding Stanley’s party on Saturday night, of course. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”

Ellie imagined her fifty-five-year-old mother, dressed in a size four ice blue peignoir, sitting at her makeup table and frowning carefully in the mirror. Being a loyal user of Botox, there wasn’t any other way she could frown.

Annoyed that she was placed in the middle of another lie, she knew the only way she could get out of this was if Georgette’s radar was on the fritz. “Are you certain you sent me one? I don’t remember receiving an invitation.”

“But you did. I called two days after I gave them to the doorman, and you told me you had the envelope in your hand.”

“Oh,
that
invitation. You’re right. I got it. I guess I forgot to open it. Sorry.”

“You
forgot
to open an invitation to one of the most prestigious legal events of the year, given by your mother and your stepfather?” After a long, reprimanding pause, Georgette continued. “Even so, I assume you’ll attend.”

“Me? Ah . . . I don’t know.”

“A few of your clients will be here, including one of the guests of honor and his wife. Norman Lowenstein and Mariette.”

Ellie gave herself a mental head slap. As usual, her mother was correct. Judge Lowenstein was one of three men being considered for some sort of prominent position in the federal judicial system. Apparently, a seat on this bench, or whatever it was called, carried the possibility of a future appointment to the highest court in the land.

“I do remember Stanley talking about it the last time I was over for dinner, but I don’t think I’ll be able to make it.” What with taking care of Bitsy, placating Sam, and helping Rob, she doubted she’d have time for anything else over the next couple of weeks. “You’ll have to give the judge my regrets.”

“Tell him yourself, because he’s sitting right here begging for the phone.”

“What? Mom, no—”

“Ellie, my dear,” said a familiar, jovial voice after a few whispers in the background. “Please say you’ll attend.” Judge Frye came through loud and clear, and surprisingly strong for a wheelchair-bound man of eighty-three. “I’ve told so many people about you and your fascinating business venture. There will be several opportunities to pick up new clients, so bring those adorable cards you usually carry.”

Ellie couldn’t help but smile. Her fifth stepfather was her absolute favorite, and she hoped with all her heart that his and her mother’s marriage lasted until one of them went to their heavenly rest.

“I’m sort of busy, Judge. Do you really want me there?”

“You and your boy? Absolutely, and bring that upstanding young man you’re seeing, too. It might do him good to rub elbows with a few of this city’s more prominent law officials.”

She doubted Sam would agree to go, even if he was talking to her by that point. “Okay, you twisted my arm. I’m not sure about Sam, but Rudy and I will drop in for a little while.”

“Good, good. You’ve made me a happy man. Now I’ll give you back to my bride.”

Ellie heard the
bride’s
opinion in the muttered rant that took place in the background. Her mother demanded to know why the invitation extended to Rudy, and Stanley was stern in his reply. “Because this is
my
party, Georgette, and I want both Ellie and her dog to be here. That little fellow is quite entertaining, if you know what to look for.”

“Are you still there, Ellen Elizabeth?” her mother asked after another minute of marital wrangling.

“Still here, Mom. It sounds like Stanley really wants us at that party.”

“You, yes, but I’m not so sure about—”

“Georgette”—Judge Frye interrupted her from somewhere in the room—“that dog had better be here.”

Grinning, Ellie shook her head. Stanley was one of the few people in the world who garnered her yorkiepoo’s approval. In fact, even before Stanley and Georgette had tied the knot, the judge had announced that Rudy was allowed to attend any get-together he and her mother planned, or else.

“So you’ll both be here?” Georgette asked, her tone strained but even.

“Is there a dress code?”

“Not a code, but it is formal. No pants for the ladies, unless they’re Vera or Yves. A knee-length is fine, but it should be something designer.”

Yeah, right. Like that’ll happen.
“I have one fancy dress, Mom, and no time to shop for another.”

“Who is the designer?”

“I don’t remember, but last time I wore it I went to dinner and the theater with that creep of a lawyer you fixed me up with. It’s that or slacks and a sweater.”

Her mother made a choking sound, then said, “All right, last year’s designer dress is better than nothing. See you Saturday at eight. And come early, if you like. Corinna misses you, and Stanley will be pleased that you’re here keeping him occupied while the catering staff sets up.”

After a polite good-bye, Ellie disconnected the call. What a charming way to start her day, arguing with her mother as if she were a teenager. Maybe instead of Sam, she’d ask Vivian to tag along. They could stand in a corner and play one of their favorite games: Face-lift Roulette. Viv was an expert at spotting most types of plastic surgery, and Ellie was slowly getting the hang of figuring out how many different procedures a woman had done and how long it might be before she’d want another.

But she would have to phrase her request to Vivian as if it was a done deal. Her best friend put spending time with Georgette just one step below a root canal. And she might have an evening planned with Dr. Dave. If that was the case, Ellie’s one and only date would be a dog. Not that she’d mind, because sometimes, when Sam was immersed in a case, Rudy was much better company.

She swiveled on the bed and spied her boy stretching on his pillow. “Good morning.”

She couldn’t help but grin whenever Rudy used Viv’s favorite term to describe her four-times-divorced mother. “Yes, that was Georgette. You could probably hear her talking.”

“As if she was in the room with us.”
He yawned.
“Why does she have to shout when she talks to you? She doesn’t do it when we’re at her place.”

“I think it has something to do with her role as a concerned parent. She wants to make sure I hear every word, so I can’t deny what she said later.” Ellie stood and peeked out her bedroom window, noting the sunshine and what appeared to be crisp, cool, springlike weather. “Looks like another nice day. I’ll get dressed and we’ll go out for a quickie.”

 

“You cannot be serious,” said Viv as she, Ellie, and the dogs walked to Viv’s subway stop. “You actually think I’d believe you if you told me I promised to go with you to a party at your mother’s?”

“It was worth a shot,” said Ellie, annoyed that nothing slipped past her best friend’s radar.

“And I’d give up a hot date with Dr. Dave to spend time with the ex-terminator?”

“A girl can dream, can’t she?” teased Ellie. “I’d really appreciate your support.”

“What about Sam?” They reached the stairs leading to the subway, and Viv rested an elbow on the upper railing before heading down. “He likes the judge.”

“The judge, yes. Georgette, not so much.”

“Did he say that or are you reading his brain waves?” Viv adjusted the strap of the Gucci Pelham handbag she’d bought on the Internet at a whopping 75 percent off. “Or is he still not talking to you?”

“We only argued yesterday, so I imagine it will take him a couple of days to cool off,” said Ellie. “But I’ll ask him if he calls. If he doesn’t, you’re my choice for a companion.”

“Put a tux on Rudy and let him be your official escort,” Viv said, grinning. “If I didn’t have a date, and Mr. T was invited, that’s what I’d do.”

“Say what?”
yipped the Jack Russell.
“The only way you’ll get me in a tux is over my dead body, fool.”

Ellie’s brain glided past T’s comment and shifted into fourth gear. “How about this? I’ll call Georgette and ask her if you
and
the vet can come. Dr. Dave might enjoy rubbing elbows with the elite, too.”

Viv rolled her grass green eyes. “He already does. He was at Mariette Lowenstein’s last night, checking on her Pug. It seems Sampson was having some sort of panic attack.”

“Panic attack?” Sampson was one of the most easygoing dogs Ellie had ever cared for, when he wasn’t obsessing about food. “That’s ridiculous. He was perfectly fine when I walked him with my almost-assistant.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me you had someone interview for the job when I was over last night?”

“I guess it slipped my mind. He met me at the Cranston and we went on a sample walk. He accepted the paperwork, but that was about it.” She hoisted her tote bag over her shoulder. “I don’t think he’s a dog person.”

“Then you shouldn’t hire him.” Viv glanced at her watch. “Yikes, I’ve got to leave or I’ll be late. We can catch up later tonight.” She took the stairs to the trains and disappeared.

“Viv’s right. You’d be wrong to hire that Rizzoli character if he doesn’t care for us canines,”
Rudy said.
“He doesn’t deserve us.”

“Last thing we need is a human who don’t get what we’re all about,”
T agreed with a yip.

“Maybe so, but I’ve known people who weren’t raised with dogs, so they weren’t aware of the joy a good pet could bring. Anthony Rizzoli could be like that, but we don’t really have to discuss it. He hasn’t called.”

The trio crossed Lexington and continued west to Fifth Avenue and the Beaumont. Ellie waved at Natter as they passed and went up to collect Lulu, Cheech and Chong, Bruiser, Ranger, and Satchmo. Minutes later, the pack left the lobby and headed to the park. Unfortunately, they practically collided with Eugene and his herd of eighty-pound pooches on the way.

“Jeez, Engleman,” the other dog walker snapped. “How many times do I gotta tell you? Watch the fuck where you’re goin’.”

“Good morning to you, too, Eugene. Nice day, isn’t it?” she asked, vowing to be polite to her obnoxious competitor. She glanced at his dogs and automatically took a head count. “Have a couple of your clients moved?”

“Moved? I wish. Some upstart stole ’em.” He took a long drag on his cigarette. “Damn robber.”

Stole? Robber?
The terms catapulted Ellie back to the time she’d rescued Buddy and the other dogs who’d been taken from their owners, when she’d first started walking canines. “Are you saying they were kidnapped?”

After another drag on his cigarette, Eugene fell in step beside her and they crossed to the park, which, considering his normally unfriendly manner, was an oddity. “Business-napped is more like it. Don’t you read the papers?”

“I read when I can. What are you talking about?”

“The
Post
and a couple of other rags have been reporting an upswing in our profession. Seems this city is teeming with wannabe walkers, lookin’ to steal our clients. Word finally got out about what a great deal this business is, once you build up a list.”

Dog walking was a wonderful profession for a number of reasons. You made your own hours, the pay was off the books, and you experienced exercise and fresh air by the ton; it was a better job than working in a cubicle, waiting tables, or standing behind a counter all day. And dealing with canines was so much easier than dealing with people.

“I cleared over a hundred thou last year,” Eugene continued. “How about you?”

“I did okay,” she answered. No way would she share her personal information with Eugene.

Two of his dogs stopped to do their business and Ellie cringed at the size of the bag he needed to collect the waste. She was thankful all her pups together didn’t weigh as much as one of his. But if she got any more clients in this building, she’d have to divide the walk into two groups.

“Just as long as I keep the dogs I have, I’m good, too, but I’ll tell ya one thing.” Eugene thrust out his jaw like a street fighter. “I ain’t about to lose another one.”

“I don’t seem to have that problem,” she told him. “I haven’t lost a dog to a competitor yet.”

“Well, lucky you.” He ground the remainder of his cigarette under his ratty sneaker. “Don’t worry. Your day will come.” With that, he turned and marched his pack in the opposite direction.

“Good old Eugene,”
Rudy observed.
“About as pleasant as a case of pinworms.”

“You can say that again,”
Lulu yelped. The Havanese was Rudy’s first love and one of Ellie’s most outspoken dogs.
“He’s always leaving cards with Nelda, hoping Flora will change walkers.”

Great. Just what she didn’t want to hear. It figured her nemesis would do exactly what it was other walkers were doing to him. But her customers were loyal, and her rapport with her charges good. She doubted she’d lose a member of her crew to anyone.

When she brought the dogs back to the Beaumont, Natter waved her over. “I saw you talking with Eugene. Was he bothering you?”

“Eugene is harmless,” Ellie told the doorman. “Most of the time he’s just a complainer, but he was informative today.” She waited while Natter tipped his hat to a tenant, retrieved a package from under the front counter, and passed it over. “He told me new people were trying to break into the dog-walking business and they’d already stolen a few of his clients.”

“I probably have a dozen business cards from folks looking to hire on as dog walkers,” Natter confessed. “I only pass the cards along if I know someone is unhappy with their current walker. Unfortunately, there are a few tenants in this building who don’t care for Eugene’s heavy hand.”