Begging for Trouble (11 page)

“There? What there?”

“At Guess Who on opening night. Remember, I told you I had tickets. My client, the alleged murderer, is a headliner at the club, and he shared a dressing room with the victim.”

Joe rolled his eyes. “I don’t get it. You look like such a nice normal pers—”

“I am normal,” Ellie interjected. “I didn’t have a thing to do with it. Sam, Viv, and Dr. Dave were with me in the audience when the ruckus broke out. Sam took off and I followed him.”

“I bet Ryder loved that.”

“I haven’t really talked to Sam since he commandeered the case, but Rob begged me to take care of his dog before they carted him away, so I brought her home. She’s been with me ever since.”

Joe gazed at Bitsy, now sitting at his feet. “That little doll was there when the murder occurred?”

“I like him, Ellie,”
the poohuahua said.
“Think maybe he’ll give us another cookie?”

She smothered a smile, lifted Bitsy in her arms, and held her close. “Rob sometimes took her to rehearsal, and she loved the attention the performers gave her, so it was only natural he wanted her to share his big night. She was in one of those pet carriers, hidden beneath the dressing table, when the cops found her.”

Joe scratched Bitsy under the chin. “Poor baby. Now I get why she’s stressed.”

“I don’t have time to explain more. I’m early because I need my weekly thank-you drinks for the doormen.” The line of customers had dwindled, so she headed for the counter.

“I guess you didn’t notice the sign,” he said, walking to the register.

She focused on a blackboard tacked on the wall behind the counter. “Deli-style sandwiches available from eleven to three every day. Aw, how sweet. You decided to take another of my suggestions to heart.”

“You were right about those punch cards, so I thought I’d try this one, too. Yesterday was the first day, and I sold over fifty sandwiches. By the first of next week, I’ll be doing the same in the other stores.”

Ellie paid for the filled drink carrier. “If we can, we’ll stop by at lunchtime.”

“Hang on,” said Joe, again stepping to the side of the counter. “Have you taken a look at the store next door? I can’t believe I’m gonna have more competition.”

“Next door?”

“It’s a bakery, and I hear they’ll be serving a free cup of java with every purchase. That’s sure to cut into my trade.”

Her college buddy had done well for himself, running a successful business amid direct competition from the city’s booming Starbucks trade, as well as the delis, diners, and drink joints scattered around town. She was proud of the fact that he used one of her sales ideas and now offered the free-coffee punch card. With the addition of sandwiches, his foot traffic was sure to grow.

“What do you mean, ‘you hear’? Don’t you think you should check it out before getting annoyed? That’s the sensible thing to do.”

“Since nothing goes better with fresh baked goods than a cup of coffee, I get where they’re going, and it’s bound to put a dent in my croissant, cookie, and muffin trade. Next thing I know, they’ll be offering sandwiches.”

“Have you met the owner? Maybe you should talk to them, get the skinny yourself.”

Joe scowled. Her friend was a very attractive guy, maybe more so with the lines bracketing his tanned face and dark brown eyes. Why was it okay for men to show their age, but not women?

“I’ve thought about it, but if I go over there I’m afraid I’ll say something I’ll regret.”

“You need to stay friendly with the locals. We can talk about it later, but I have to leave.”

On the sidewalk, Ellie hoisted her tote bag onto her shoulder, juggled the drink carrier until it was safely in hand, and took a quick look at the store next door. It was empty, but she could tell by the glass counters that some type of work was being done. Joe was probably right about getting competition. She’d look into it when she had the time. Right now, all she could think of was Rob.

Since he’d given her the story of his life, both private and professional, and explained his parents’ blatant disapproval while growing up, she’d made it a point to become his friend. Now she wondered whether Rob had made up his sorry tale just to garner sympathy. Had he lied about his stiff and unbending parents? Had he lied about being straight? More important, had he lied about committing a murder?

Though she hated to admit it, some of Sam’s ideas made sense. Greed was the cause of as many crimes as jealousy and hatred were. Carmella was jealous of Rob’s chance at fame and the opportunity for a successful career. Was it possible Carmella had something Rob wanted?

Turning into the Beaumont, she grinned at Natter and passed him his coffee.

“Thanks, and have a good day,” the doorman said with a smile.

Hearing that Rob was innocent was the only thing that would make her day good. “Looks like I’ll have to take a trip to Guess Who today,” she muttered as she led the dogs to the elevator.

“Since when?”
Rudy asked from the floor.

She gave Natter a wave when they entered the elevator. “Since now,” she told her boy. “There are a couple of things I need to look into.”

 

Ellie walked to her next stop, breathing deeply of the cool air. She couldn’t remember the last time there’d been a snowfall, and there was rain in the forecast, which she hoped would bring the April showers six weeks ahead of time to herald an early spring. The weather had been so nice, in fact, that she couldn’t recall the last time she’d wrestled one of her charges into a coat, sweater, or booties.

Now at the Davenport, she made a point of handing Randall his tea. Fearful that the poohuahua might cry or throw a fit at not being able to see Rob, she also passed the doorman the dogs’ leads and raised an eyebrow that asked if he would keep them.

Randall, being a good friend, acknowledged her with a nod and led the pups behind the front counter, in effect blocking them from the view of anyone walking by. After collecting the last dog in the Davenport pack, she herded Sweetie Pie, Buckley, Jett, and Stinker to the elevator and gave them a lecture as they waited for their ride down.

“Okay, everybody, listen up,” she began. “Bitsy’s downstairs with Rudy, and I expect you to be on your best behavior. No arguing, grumbling, or commentary.”

“Tell that to the boys,”
Sweetie Pie advised.
“I’m always on my best behavior.”

“Ha!”
shouted Stinker.
“That’s not what we hear.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” said Ellie. “What about when Babs brings home an overnight guest?”

“You’re talking about a man, right?”
The Westie snorted. “
That’s so different.”

The rest of the pack, all male, yapped at once.

“Enough,” Ellie ordered. “Bitsy is your pal. I don’t want to hear a word about Rob’s arrest. You got it?”

Mumbles of
“yeah”
and
“if you say so”
filled her head and she smiled. These dogs had been her first clients, so each of them held a special place in her heart. Even Buckley, the grump, made her grin.

She led them into the elevator. Time to change the subject. “So, Buck, tell me a little more about your last visit to Madame Orzo. Did she read your mind? Do you have another appointment?”

“I say she guesses, because she can’t really see into my head, but Hazel made another date with her,”
the maltipoo yipped.
“That woman gives me the creeps.”

“Everything gives you the creeps,”
said Jett, her Scottie with an attitude.
“I never heard any dog complain like you do.”
He gave his muzzle a toss.
“’Cept for Stinker.”

The comment started another round of insults that continued until the elevator hit the ground floor. She collected Rudy and Bitsy, and aimed for the park, where she gave everyone an extra amount of time to do their business. When the canines treated Bitsy the same as usual, she was so relieved that she pulled a bag of biscuits from her tote and gave each dog a reward.

Back in the Davenport, she again passed Rudy’s and Bitsy’s leads to Randall and made quick work of returning her charges to their homes. “Thanks,” she told the doorman when she returned to claim the pups. “I figured you’d understand.”

“Of course,” he said, his expression Yoda-like. “You didn’t want Miss Bitsy to be reminded of her master. Mr. Chesney is still up there, you know.”

“Did he tell you his sister was flying in today to oversee damage control?”

Randall tipped his hat to a tenant and reached under the counter. “Here you are, Ms. Shelton,” he said, handing her a package with a Bergdorf logo.

Ellie remembered the pencil-thin woman from yesterday. She seemed to be the leader of the group of troublemakers who’d argued with Kronk when he asked for IDs before allowing people into the building.

Ms. Shelton nodded her thanks, then gazed at the pups with a sneer etched on her snooty face. “Isn’t that the dog owned by that—that pervert?”

“If you mean Rob Chesney, then yes,” answered Randall.

She gazed at Ellie. “And you’re his dog walker.”

The tone in her voice made Ellie sound like a criminal. “I am. Do you need someone to take care of your pet?” She grinned when the woman’s expression segued to one of horror. “My rates are reasonable. Just ask Rob.”

“Me? Own a dog?” Ms. Shelton shook her head and her fall of straight blond hair swung rigidly across her pashmina-clad shoulders. “I should say not. Filthy creatures.” She tapped the counter with a manicured nail and returned her focus to Randall. “I take it you gave management our demand?”

“It’s taken care of,” he assured her.

“Then we should hear something soon.” Ms. Shelton stomped to the elevator on her four-inch Manolos and stepped inside.

“Demand? What demand?” Ellie asked when the door closed.

Randall heaved a sigh. “It’s something I was hoping you wouldn’t hear about. A group of tenants signed a petition and asked me to hand-deliver it to the consortium that manages this complex. It’s about Mr. Chesney.”

She lowered her voice. “What do they want to do with Rob?”

“They want him evicted, of course. Claim a person of his ilk isn’t welcome in their building. They’re also annoyed over the way Kronk handled the security check after the murder. They claim he treated them badly, and they tried to blame that on Mr. Chesney, too.”

Ellie’s mouth dropped open in shock. “That’s ridiculous. I was here, and Kronk only did what management ordered him to do. You know Kronk. He’s not the most tactful guy in a difficult situation, but I thought he did an okay job.”

“Boris Kronkovitz has no tact in any situation,” Randall said, frowning. “But I was very careful to go over the handling of the tenants with him when I left for the night. I think they’re merely using him as an excuse to see Mr. Chesney out.”

“Great. Just what Rob needs.”

“I agree.” He rested an elbow on the counter. “But I’m sure it will take some time for management to make a decision. If you come up with something that might delay his removal, let me know and I’ll pass it along.”

Ellie, Bitsy, and Rudy left and walked north to their next stop, a building that was smaller and less ostentatious than most on the Upper East Side. Because there were only five dogs on her list, the run was usually quick and uneventful.

It was only after she arrived to pick up Pooh and Tigger that she began to worry. Sara Studebaker, a woman near Ellie’s age, lived here with two adorable West Highland White Terriers, the same breed as Sweetie Pie. She and Sara sometimes held conversations about their dogs or whatever was going on in their lives. She knocked, let herself in, and found it odd that Sara wasn’t there to say hello. Stranger still was the fact that Pooh and Tigger were missing.

She called the dogs’ names, then Sara’s, and got no answer. Concerned, she walked down the center hall of the comfortably appointed unit checking the rooms. “What do you think? Should we be worried about the situation?”

Rudy sniffed the doorway of each room.
“I’m not gettin’ a whiff of trouble, so my guess is the car girl forgot.”
He loved referring to Sara as Sara Sedan, Sara Ferrari, sometimes even Sara Convertible, depending on his mood, even though her family had no connection to the automobile industry.

Ellie stopped in the kitchen and went to the spot where she left her daily progress reports. “Maybe you’re right, but I’m still worried. There’s no note, and she usually leaves one if she has to go out.”

Without a clue on how to proceed, she left Sara’s place and moved down through the floors, picking up Scooter, Fred, and Spike. With two fewer dogs to walk, she finished in twenty minutes, returned them all home, and headed for the Cranston.

“You sure got a lot of us to walk,”
chimed Bitsy, who had never accompanied them on their entire route before.

“I had an assistant until last November,” she told the poohuahua as they entered the Cranston Arms lobby and headed for the elevator. “I’m advertising for another right now.”

Ellie unlocked Freud’s door, introduced him to Bitsy, and let the dogs get acquainted in the usual manner. After a round of sniffing and bowing, she answered the question. “Her name was Joy. Did you like her?”

Joy spending time on the phone didn’t bother Ellie. It was easy to walk and talk at the same time. But not giving the dogs their treats was a different matter. “No biscuits? Why didn’t one of you tell me?”

“We knew you were extra-busy so we talked it over and agreed not to,”
Bitsy explained.
“It sorta just slipped out.”