Begging for Trouble (34 page)

Sam gathered her in his arms. “So what went wrong? Rudy drew some attention away from the guests of honor and frightened some society woman in a powder room? Big deal. Who cares?”

She gulped out a laugh. “Okay, okay. When you put it that way, you’re right. He didn’t do any real damage, and most of the people here, except for Mrs. Thachette and a couple of other stuffed shirts, all like dogs.”

“Now you’ve got the right attitude. Far as I can tell, your only real problem will be Georgette, and you’re used to her complaining. You can handle her.” He loosened his grip and looked her in the eye. “Am I making any sense?”

“You’re making lots of sense,” she told him. Stepping away, she went to the desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a tissue. “I’m sorry. It’s just that—”

There was a knock on the door; then the attendant brought the dogs inside with a flourish. “All done,” he announced. “The little guys really know their stuff. I took them around the block twice because they were so good.”

“It’s cold and they aren’t wearing their coats,” Ellie began. “And I thought I told you to make it—”

“Thanks so much,” Sam interrupted, patting the kid on the back. “We’ll take it from here.” He passed the young man a twenty and led him out the door. Turning to Ellie, he grinned. “See. No harm, no foul. The dogs are fine.” He bent and unsnapped their leashes, then put them on the desk. “You feeling any better?”

“A little.”

When she squatted and pulled Rudy near, Sam figured it would be best if he let Ellie do her thing.

She linked an arm around Buddy’s neck and gazed into his eyes. “You two had me worried. Was that kid nice to you?” She cocked her head. “Really?” Smiling, she dropped a kiss on his muzzle. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

He shrugged. If there was any guarantee he’d get as much attention from her as these mutts did, he’d grow a tail and a second set of legs. Another knock on the door sounded and he went to answer it.

“Sam, my boy, mind if we come in?”

“Of course not, sir. It’s your office.” He opened the door wider to allow Stanley and the Carmodys inside.

“Ellie, thanks so much for taking care of our little man,” said Mrs. Carmody. “I heard they just got back from a nice, long walk.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Ellie. “Did you have a good time tonight?”

“More importantly, did you?” the woman asked her.

When they huddled and began to chat with Stanley, Captain Carmody nodded to Sam. “I saw you bending Judge Lowenstein’s ear a bit earlier,” he said in a low, even voice. “Then you held a conversation with Judge McDonald and the district attorney a couple of minutes after that. Is there anything you want to tell me, Detective?”

Sam looked him in the eye. “I have a theory cooking in the drag queen case, Captain. I may need your assistance if things get difficult.”

“I thought that was a done deal.”

“It was until yesterday afternoon. Then the case veered off track. Detective Fugazzo and I had to go at it from another angle, and some interesting things started turning up. Things we didn’t expect.”

“Are you going out on a limb, or are these ‘interesting’ things solid?”

“I’ll know better in the next forty-eight hours. I have to do a little more digging, which is why I needed to speak to Judge McDonald and the DA.”

Captain Carmody nodded. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do, but make certain your information is on the money. I’d hate to see you ruffling important feathers for nothing. It’s always tough digging out from under if things don’t pan out the way you expect.”

“Yes, sir. I know that. I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I ask of you, Detective.” He gazed at the two women, sitting on the sofa and chatting with Judge Frye. “I want to thank you again for putting that bug in my ear when you wrapped up the Albright case. I haven’t seen my wife this happy in several years. Owning Buddy has done her—done us both—a world of good.”

“There’s no need for further thanks, Captain. I’m beginning to understand how some people feel about their pets.”

Carmody rocked back on his heels, a grin splitting his Irish face in two. “I just bet you are. It’s nice to see that you and Ms. Engleman are still together.”

Sam didn’t say a word. He couldn’t.

“Well, it’s time the Mrs. and I head for home.” The captain walked to the desk, picked up Buddy’s leash, and brought it to the sofa. After he hooked the lead, the Bichon jumped into his arms and began licking his chin. “Judge Frye, always a pleasure.”

The judge held out a hand and Mrs. Carmody clasped it in her own, stood, and said, “Ellie, Detective Ryder, it was nice seeing you again. Good night, Stanley, and thanks for inviting us. We’ll just say our good-byes to your charming wife and be on our way.”

“I’ll follow you,” said Judge Frye, guiding his wheelchair behind them. “I should be at the door with Georgette for the grand exodus.”

Sam was beat. The night had proven to be an eyeopener, and he had a ton of crap to do before he assembled his paperwork and presented it to Judge McDonald. If his theory proved to be a dud, he’d have to walk on eggs and take a shitload of ribbing from Vince and his pals for the next couple of months.

“How about you and I join that mass retreat? My guess is your mother won’t be able to make a single negative comment with so many important people around to hear her complain.”

He snapped the leash on Rudy’s collar and Ellie came to her feet. “You’re probably right.” Leaning toward him, she kissed his cheek. “Thanks for being so understanding.” Then she grinned. “But don’t think I forgot about that conversation you had with Norm Lowenstein. I’ll just save the grilling for tomorrow.”

Sunlight streamed through the bedroom window. Ellie checked her nightstand clock, and saw that it was almost nine—late for Rudy, who usually needed to go out by eight even on weekend mornings. Well, the little stinker could just hold it a while longer if he thought giving her extra sleep time would get him back in her good graces.

She had yet to talk to him about his behavior at the party, mostly because Sam had stayed the night. It was tough having a serious discussion with your dog when someone else was in the apartment. Someone who didn’t condone or even understand what you were doing.

After arriving home from the party, she’d been so beat all she could do was undress, wash off her makeup, and tumble into bed. Now, with a solid eight hours of rest under her belt, she was ready to face the world, and her boys. First, a nice bit of private time with Sam, and then she’d cook him a good breakfast and ask him about his conversation with Norm Lowenstein and that other man. And after he left, she’d have a sit-down with her yorkiepoo.

But her hope of spending time with Sam died when she turned over and found Rudy curled on the pillow.

“Don’t rush getting up or anything,”
he said with a yawn.
“The dopey dick already took me out.”

“Excuse me?” she asked, not sure she’d heard correctly.

She rolled to the edge of the mattress, sat up, and took a deep breath. Rudy had to be telling the truth, because he’d never be this complacent if he were lying. But why was the dopey dick—er—Sam being so interactive with her dog? It was the third time in twenty-four hours that he’d given her help with Rudy’s care.

The apartment was quiet—no sound of the shower, no kitchen racket, and no smell of brewing coffee. Standing, she faced Rudy, who was in full stretch mode, his front feet out and his bottom up.

“And where, exactly, might I find this note?”

“Or something?” Now at his side of the bed, she inspected the pillow, then dropped to her knees and searched the floor. “Aha!” She picked up a wrinkled piece of paper covered in teeth marks and smeared ink, and read it out loud.

She gave Rudy a look. “Something tells me this note was on the pillow when he left.”

“Maybe so, but that’s my territory.”
Jumping to the floor, he gave a full-body shake.

“We’ll discuss this later.”

After setting the note on her dresser, she pulled clean underwear from a drawer, went to the closet, where she found a navy sweater and jeans, and took everything to the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, showered and presentable, she was in the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee while Rudy watched her from his corner.

“You ready to talk yet?”
he asked when she retrieved her homemade caramel sauce and whipping cream from the fridge. Nothing fat-free this morning. She needed the real stuff.

Thinking to teach him a lesson, she kept quiet. Maybe her boy would use the time to get his priorities straight, because Sam was in her—their—life for as long as things worked out. He had done his part lately, easing up on her involvement in Rob’s murder charge, agreeing to take her places he really didn’t want to go, and helping her with Rudy.

Her dog could complain, make nasty wisecracks, even eat Sam’s notes. But it was time he stopped putting himself between her and the detective.

Still ignoring him, she sat at the table and smiled. Sam had picked up a morning newspaper and—she inspected the bag sitting next to the paper—a sesame bagel with cream cheese, capers, tomato, and lox, just the way she liked it.

Ooo-kay. This was getting spooky. She usually had to repeat what she wanted a dozen times before he remembered. Either an alien being had taken up residence in his brain, or he was going to drop a bomb. She just couldn’t wrap her mind around which it might be.

Rudy put his paws on her knee.
“Hey, I got a question for you.”

She raised an eyebrow.

Ellie groaned. “I’m not in the mood for one of your ghastly lawyer jibes.”

She shrugged. “A lead life preserver.”

He gave a doggie grin.
“That’s pretty good, but it’s not even close.”

“Okay, give me the punch line.”

She couldn’t help but giggle. “Where do you hear all these terrible jokes?”

“Making me happy is simple. All you have to do is listen to what I say, do what you’re told, and stay out of trouble.”

He dropped to the floor and slid into his Buddha pose.
“I hate to say this, but you sound just like the doofus detective.”

“I what?” She blinked. “I do not.”

Flustered, she opened and closed her mouth without saying anything. “I—er—well—” She stood up and went to the counter. She hated when Sam bossed her around, but they were equals. She had every right to expect things to be done her way if she was right.

Rudy was a dog.

Mouth agape, she stared at him. “What did you say?”

She stirred the caramel into her coffee and added a squirt of whipped cream. After carrying the cup to the table, she plopped into her chair and took a long sip. The sweet, hot liquid calmed her senses, woke her up, and gave her the chance to regroup.

“We are partners, but this can’t be a fifty-fifty relationship because you need me more than I need you.”

He again put his paws on her thigh.
“Yeah, I know. But there’s nothin’ I can do about that.”

“And it makes you sad.”

What would I do?
Her throat began to clog and she opened her arms.

Rudy jumped into her lap and licked her face.
“That’s just what I thought you’d say.”

Closing her eyes, Ellie squeezed him tight and sniffed back a tear. Rudy was her boy, the one thing she could count on in her life. Sam was here, but for how long? Viv was here, too, but she had Dr. Dave. Stanley loved her, treated her like a daughter, but he was eighty-three; there was no telling how much longer he’d be around to take her side.

And how could she forget her mother? The idea that Georgette would be there for her was a laugh. Her mother would disown her in a heartbeat if she thought her daughter was clouding her own social standing or embarrassing her.