Begging for Trouble (21 page)

“Is that smoke I see coming out of your ears?” asked Vince, strolling into their shared office.

“I just hung up with Lydia.”

“Uh-oh.” His partner grinned. “Another badgering session?”

“Sort of. She means well, but—”

“She also needs to mind her own business. Mothers are like that—just can’t seem to stop meddling in their kids’ lives.” Vince leaned back in his chair, swung his feet onto his desk, and crossed them at the ankles. “Have you talked to the lovely Ms. Engleman lately?”

Sam wanted to kick himself. Served him right for telling Vince about the way he and Ellie last parted. “No.”

“Call her.” Vince raised a brow. “Today.”

“I’m due in court in an hour.”

“Then do it on your way to court, or while you’re waiting to testify.”

“I’ll think about it.” Sam tossed the folder holding Pearson’s bank records on his partner’s desk. “This should cheer you up.”

Vince’s brown eyes roamed the pages, quickly getting the gist of the information. “You’re right. Sponging ten thousand a month from some target is a good reason to get yourself killed. Considering the way the deposits fell, do you think he had one sucker or two?”

“That depends. Could be there was just one mark and Pearson was smart enough to split the money up so the IRS didn’t get wise. But I’d say we definitely have our motive.” Sam stood. “There’s still a lot of digging to do.”

“I take it you’ve already ordered Chesney’s bank records?”

“They should be faxed here before five, but it could need follow-up, and like I said, I’m due in court. Think you can make a couple of calls to confirm the fax?”

Vince flipped open his cell. “I’m on it. You testify, then call me.”

Sam headed out the door, stopping when his partner advised, “And phone Ellie.”

He waved a hand and continued walking. He knew he should do what Vince suggested, but what the hell was he supposed to say?

 

After her information-packed visit to Rob’s club, Ellie picked up Rudy and they finished three of their stops, ending at the Davenport around five thirty. When they walked into the building, Kronk waved her over, his expression just shy of cheerful.

“El-
ee,
my dar-
link
girl. You take care of my favor, yes?”

Oh, crap, no. She’d forgotten to write that letter to the building management like she’d promised. But the last thing she needed was an argument with the Russian bear. She kept on grinning as she came up with a response.

“Uh, I need the address. Once I have that, you’ll be set.”

The doorman fisted his ham-sized hands on his hips. “You write, yes?”

“Sure, I write,” she answered, adding a “will” in her mind. “I just need something giving me the Davenport’s headquarters.”

“I thought I already gave address.”

“If you did, I can’t find it.”

Kronk narrowed his eyes in thought, then reached under the counter and pulled out a business card. “This all I
haf
. You take and mail letter, yes?”

She dropped the card in her tote bag and headed for the elevator. “You got it.”

“So much for hating to lie,”
Rudy scolded as the door closed.

“I didn’t lie. I just omitted a key word.”

The yorkiepoo continued to berate her as they picked up Sweetie Pie, Jett, and Buckley. When the pack returned to the foyer, Buckley said,
“Hey, aren’t we forgetting someone?”

“Yeah, what about Bitsy and that gigundo pal of hers?”
Sweetie Pie asked.
“Isn’t he still visiting?”

“I’m taking the two of them out after I bring you home,” Ellie told them. “Bitsy and I have an appointment.”

“You don’t need to—”

“I don’t think—”

Ellie heaved a sigh. She tried her best to treat each dog equally and not play favorites, but every once in a while, like now, it was impossible. “I’m taking her to someone who might be able to help her remember what happened the night of the murder. None of you has that problem, so you don’t need to tag along.”

“Who you goin’ to see?”
asked Jett.

Noting the temperature had dropped with the encroaching darkness, Ellie zipped her parka, pulled on her gloves, and stepped out onto Fifth Avenue. The wind gusted and she thought about her visions of an early spring. Even though there were clusters of crocuses and daffodils lining the edge of the park, the nippy air was a reminder that her second-favorite season was still four weeks away.

“Madame Orzo, if you must know,” she said as they crossed the avenue. “Now hurry up and finish your business.”

“You weren’t kidding when you asked Hazel for her card? You’re really takin’ her there?”
Buckley shouted over the rumble of rush-hour traffic.
“You gotta be kiddin’ me.”

“No kidding. Bitsy needs help remembering, and I’ve run out of ideas. A dog psychic seems like the next logical step.” After leading the pack to their favorite drop spot, she let them sniff for a few minutes before encouraging action.

Buckley hoisted a leg so high she thought he’d topple over.
“Don’t be surprised if it don’t work,”
he warned.
“The woman is all blab and no brains.”

“Believe me, I’ve heard everything you said about Madame Orzo, but I never did understand what it was that made you think so poorly of her. Care to clue me in?”

The maltipoo scratched his hind legs into the ground, throwing up a shower of dirt, a sure sign he was perturbed.
“She said I was a grouch because Hazel treated me like a baby instead of top dog. She also said I was spoiled.”
He gave the ground one more strike.
“Can you believe that? Me? Spoiled.”

“Oh, no. Really?” Ellie bit back a grin. “How dare she say such a terrible thing.”

“You? In charge?” She shook her head, taking in the seven-pound ball of fur with legs. “You’re joking, right?”

Rudy sneezed.
“Go easy, Triple E. Buck is dead serious. After Twink, he’s the badass in the group. I wouldn’t want to cross him.”
He ended the statement with an eye roll, as if to say “play along.”

“Now, Buckley, think a minute. I spoil all the dogs I walk, and their moms and dads do the same. It’s only natural for Hazel to baby you. She loves you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sing me another sad song,”
the maltipoo said with a snort of derision.

“Okay, fine, whatever. Now move it along. We have to give Bradley and Bitsy their walk and get to the Village in an hour.”

After the gang did as asked, Ellie and Rudy took them home, passed out biscuits, and left progress reports. A few minutes later, she and her boy were on the poohuahua’s floor, listening to Bradley’s snurffles from under the door.

“We’re here, so be quiet,” she ordered Rudy. “I have to talk to Kayla about Eugene, remember.”

“No. Well, sort of. We’ll see.”

She knocked, heard Kayla yell, “Come in,” and used her key. When she opened the door, Bitsy was again jumping under Bradley like one of those windup dogs the toy store sold to little kids. Ignoring the Great Dane’s disapproving glare, she forged into the apartment with Bitsy on her heels.

“Hang on a second, you two, while I talk to Kayla.”

“Kayla’s in the big room, but I wouldn’t bother her if I were you
,” the poohuahua told her.
“She’s working.”

Ellie recalled what Viv had said about Kayla Janz being an author. Sure enough, when she turned the corner into the living room, the woman was sitting at a laptop, squinting at the screen in concentration. “Uh, Kayla. Can you spare a minute?”

Kayla’s eyes never left the screen. “Uh-huh.”

“It’s about Bitsy. And Bradley.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I saw Rob at the club a little while ago, and he said I could take Bitsy home for the night. Is that okay with you?”

Kayla waved a hand. “Uh-huh.”

Ellie frowned. At this rate, there was no point in talking to her about Eugene. She’d get the same deadpan answer, which really was no answer at all. “I’m taking them out now, but only Bradley will be back. I’ll . . . um . . . see you in the morning?”

Another “uh-huh,” accompanied by a second wave, was all Kayla had to say. Ellie turned and bumped into Bradley, who was standing close behind her. “Okay, big guy, let’s get going.”

When the Dane backed up a step and trotted to the hall, Ellie smiled. She specialized in walking mini-canines because she feared the larger ones might be too difficult to handle. She’d seen plenty of professional walkers stumbling across the avenue with eager charges rushing to get to the park. She’d even heard a frightening story about one girl who broke an ankle falling off a curb while she tried to control a pair of Mastiffs. At least Bradley did what he was told.

After clipping leads onto both dogs, she headed to the lobby with them and walked out the door. Once they crossed the street, Bradley wasted no time doing his business. Refusing to comment on his usual smirk, she ignored him, cleaned up his mess, and deposited everything in the trash.

When they returned to the Davenport, the lobby was clogged with tenants badgering Kronk en masse about something. Hoping to avoid attention, she hurried to the elevator. If the doorman was busy, he couldn’t pester her about that letter to the management company or anything else.

“There they are,” a man said above the noise of the crowd.

Ellie kept on truckin’ when an inner voice told her she was part of the “they” the man was talking about.

“That enormous hound doesn’t belong here, either,” carped a woman. “I thought there was a rule about the size of dog a tenant was allowed to have in this building.”

The elevator door closed and Ellie rested her backside against the wall. It didn’t matter how much money some people had. Rude was rude. It sounded like the tenants were going to take their unhappiness with Rob’s tenancy to a more personal level: his dogs.

“That group is nuttier than a jar of Skippy,”
Rudy pronounced.

“Yeah
—
some people,”
Bitsy added.

Studying the floor, Bradley stayed mum, which Ellie found sad. “It’s okay, big guy,” she said as they left the elevator. “Those people have no manners. Ignore them.”

Knowing Kayla was busy, she unlocked the door and escorted Bradley inside. Then she removed the Great Dane’s leash and hung it on the wall hook. She left after giving the king-sized canine two biscuits and a grin. “See you in the morning. Be a good dog.”

“Where you takin’ me?”
asked Bitsy when they returned to the elevator.

“It’s a surprise.”

“Oh, boy,”
snarked Rudy.

“Keep your thoughts to yourself,” she warned him. “Unless you want me to drop you at home.”

“What kind of surprise?”
the poohuahua pleaded, a sliver of worry creeping into her tone.

“It’s an experiment. I’m hoping it will help you remember everything that happened the last time you were at the club. You’d tell me if you recalled what you saw, correct?”

They passed the mob still harassing Kronk and arrived on Fifth Avenue, where Ellie hailed a cab. After giving the driver Madame Orzo’s address, she pulled out her notepad and began compiling a list of questions for the psychic. Both dogs were quiet, and the ride passed without an exchange of words.

 

Madame Orzo lived on Grove Street, an area of neat and trendy brownstones a short walk from the entertainment and bustle of the Village. New York was one of the most expensive places to live in the United States, and the Upper East Side was at the top of the list when it came to rent and condo prices, but she’d heard this section of the city was comparable. Her neighborhood had the beauty and amenities of Central Park and Museum Mile, but the West Village had quaint shops, interesting architecture, Washington Square, and NYU.

After paying the cabdriver, she stepped onto the pavement with the dogs. Gazing up at the five-story building with its neat brick construction, wide front porch, and concrete planters, Ellie was impressed. If Madame Orzo had an apartment in this building, the canine psychic business had to be booming.

The trio climbed the stairs and entered the front lobby. Checking the mailboxes, she saw that there were two units to a floor and Madame Orzo’s apartment was located on the third. Preparing herself, she pressed the buzzer under the mailbox.

A moment later, a woman’s voice said, “
Allo.
”

“Madame Orzo? It’s Ellie Engleman, your seven o’clock appointment. Can we come up?”

Instead of an answer, another buzzer sounded, and she pushed open the interior door. “You two ready?” she asked her companions.

“As we’ll ever be,”
said Rudy.

They began their climb and Ellie noticed it was quiet. Very quiet. There was no noise from a television or sound system, not even an undercurrent of human voices. Odder still were the missing aromas of cooking food. The city was a melting pot of cultures, and in most of the smaller buildings it was rare not to smell Indian, Thai, Italian, or another type of ethnic cuisine wafting through the air.

“This place gives me the creeps,”
Rudy whispered.

“I don’t think I want to do this,”
said Bitsy, stopping in the middle of the second flight of stairs.

“Don’t be silly,” Ellie told them, mostly for her own peace of mind. “You’re both just used to bigger buildings with more tenants.”

“Don’t you mean live tenants?”
Rudy muttered.

They reached the top of the stairs and Ellie looked to the right, where she saw a neatly lettered sign tacked to the cream-colored wall.