Till Death Do Us Bark (35 page)

Ellie swallowed a nervous chirp. There’d been so many disasters in her life when she performed before a crowd that she’d stopped counting. But just as she’d done for Flora Steinman this past fall, she put her fear aside and came to the aid of a friend.

“Please bear with me while I conduct a little experiment,” she began. “Myron—”

“Is a parrot,” quipped one of the R people, grinning. The guests broke out in laughter. “Don’t tell us you think he was the killer.”

“No, but he knows who the murderer is,” Ellie shot back.

That seemed to quiet everyone. She locked gazes with Viv, then eyed Dr. Bordowski and Uncle Mickey, who were standing beside her. “As I said a moment ago, please give me a chance to—”

“Awwwk! Let’s get this show on the road! Awwwk! Move ’em in, move ’em out! Raaaaw-hiiiide! Awwwk!”
Myron squawked the theme song of an ancient Clint Eastwood television show, ending with the exact sound of a cracking whip.

She spun around and held out a candy. If the African gray was ready to cooperate, she didn’t want to lose him.

The parrot snatched the M&M in his claw, popped it in his beak, and crunched.
“Aah! That’s more like it. Awwwk!”

She ignored the tittering laughter and wisecracks from the audience and held up a finger. “Myron, remember what we talked about earlier today?” She passed him another M&M. “Marty?”

The guests hushed their comments, looked around the room, and focused on Uncle Mickey. When he saw their questioning eyes, he turned pale. “Hey, that’s not me. I’d never hurt my best friend.”

The family gasped when they heard the phrase, repeated in Uncle Mickey’s voice. Ellie passed Myron another candy. As she turned, Mickey shook off Viv’s hand and tried to slip past her, but a yell from the hall stopped him.

“Oh, for God’s sake, please get this nonsense over with!”

Dressed in red from head to toe and carrying an easel, Adrianne marched into the living room. Pushing past Viv, Mickey, and Dr. Bordowski, she smacked the easel down in front of the cluster of dogs and unveiled her portrait.

“This is what Marty Kent was all about. I was the woman he wanted in his life.” Spinning on her four-inch spiked heels, she faced her sister. “And I’m tired of hiding the truth.”

Ellie passed Myron another M&M, happy to hear he was still on track. As for Adrianne . . . She caught Evan’s attention and asked for help.

He rushed to his middle daughter and grabbed her forearm. “Adrianne, stop. You’re ruining everything.”

She wrenched away from him, the pupils of her eyes dilated to a glassy glare. “Me, ruining everything?” Sneering, she pointed at Tomas. “When that little grease ball killed the man I love?”

Tomas stood, his hands clenched. The canines continued to circle. “Marty was the only man I ever loved,” Adrianne shouted again, shoving the dogs aside with her feet. “And he loved this painting.”

Ellie gave herself a mental head slap. How could it have taken her so long to realize what the comment really meant?

Rudy rose on his hind legs and rested his paws on her calf.
“The DEA is lookin’ for a record book. And we know where it is.”

“This is too much,” said Christian, standing. “You don’t need us. You need a television crew to film this circus.”

“Darling, really,” cooed Miriam. “I’m having such a good time. I’ve never been to one of those murder-nightat-the-dinner-theater plays before.”

The guests stared at Myron, then returned their gazes to Uncle Mickey, who tried to back away. “I didn’t kill him, I tell you! It was Sabrina.”

His confession brought the entire room alive. The Bostons yowled. Rudy and T jumped against the easel and knocked it to the floor.

Adrianne screamed and dropped to her knees. Myron swooped down from his perch and landed on her head.

Rudy and T darted in and out of the crowd, fighting Adrianne to gain control of the portrait, while the cops broke rank and ordered everyone to calm down.

Ellie held her throbbing temple. It appeared the painting was the key—it had to hold the record book Agent Bond wanted. And had she heard right? Did Uncle Mickey just announce that Sabrina Bordowski killed Martin Kent?

 

Sam parked a block down from the house he suspected was holding the memorial service. His ride here from downtown Manhattan had taken over three hellish hours. He hoped Ellie would appreciate the trouble he’d gone through when she saw him. Once his boss insisted that he take some vacation time, he couldn’t resist making the trip to see her in the Hamptons.

He showed his badge to the cop sitting in the first black-and-white lined up in front of the humongous home. The officer stepped out, checked Sam’s credentials, and walked by his side, giving the high sign to the police in three other cars.

Salty air blew in off the Atlantic and he hunched over, assessing the estate in the growing darkness. Ellie said she was staying in a mansion, but he thought she’d been stretching the truth. If this was the kind of money Viv came from, no wonder she had such a kick-ass attitude.

“I thought this was a memorial service. What are you guys doing out here?” he asked them.

“I’m not sure,” said his escort. “According to Detective Wheeling—he’s the lead on this case—the memorial is a cover for some crazy woman’s idea of unmasking the dead guy’s real killer. Wheeling is letting her have her way for a while. If nothing happens it was a big waste of time and manpower for the force.”

Crazy woman?
So Captain Carmody had been right. Ellie was involved in another murder. What the heck did he have to do to get her to follow his rules? Frustrated, he blew out a long breath. He loved her, damn it. How in the hell was he supposed to protect her if she kept getting involved in this stuff?

His escort nodded toward the house. “Looks like something’s going on.”

Shadows danced in the front windows of the mansion. A racket—barking dogs?—filled the air, and Sam groaned. Didn’t it just figure that canines would be involved if Ellie was here?

Inside, a woman shouted and a man yelled in return.

“We’re not supposed to go in until Wheeling gives the word,” said his escort when they stopped at the bottom of the porch stairs.

Sam heard a loud squawk. Another woman’s scream rang out, and he shook his head. “Sounds to me like that’s the word.”

“I’m not sure—”

“I don’t take orders from your boss, so I’ll chance a reprimand.” He climbed the steps and flung open the door. Edging past a couple of people arguing with the cops, he followed the noise into a huge room rife with screeching civilians, howling dogs, and a shrieking parrot.

He spotted Viv, who saw him and pointed over the head of a woman she was hanging on to like a life preserver. Following the direction of her finger, he spotted a knot of humans and canines scuffling in front of the fireplace.

The closer he got to the mosh pit, the quicker he knew the identity of at least one of the wrestlers. Ellie’s back was to him, but her curly copper hair blazed in the firelight. She and the other woman were scrabbling over something on the floor while Rudy, the small mutt Viv owned, and three black-and-white dogs darted in and out between them. To top it all, the downed woman was trying to get a squawking parrot off her head.

Suddenly, the woman Viv had been struggling with broke free and flew into the center of the melee, diving for what appeared to be a painting.

When Ellie stood to let the two women fight it out, he finally got a good look at her. What the hell had happened to her beautiful face?

Viv’s ex-prisoner stood and held up a small notebook, her eyes filled with triumph. Ellie lunged at her, but the woman tossed the book into the fire.

A big burly guy with a face like a bulldog stormed toward the fireplace and Sam followed him.

Ellie yelled, “Tomas, turn off the gas,” and the kid standing next to the hearth made for the side of the fireplace.

When the bulldog shoved Ellie, Sam had had enough. Grabbing the man’s shoulder, he spun the guy around and clocked him, throwing him to the floor.

It was then Ellie realized he was there. Her eyes filled with tears, she made her way through the mass of mutts and fell into his arms.

He held her tight while a tall cop—Wheeling?—stooped to separate the two women. Then another guy, the one Sam had seen propped against the wall on the other side of the fireplace, stepped in, clamped his hand on the fireplace tongs, and spoke to the kid. Between them, they pulled the charred date book from the dying fire.

When the parrot hopped back on his perch, Wheeling closed in on Viv’s girl and hauled her to a stand. Pulling her out of the fray, he began reading the Miranda rights. In only a few minutes the police brought everything under control.

Ellie leaned against him, her breath ragged, her body tense, and he smothered a laugh. “I came here hoping to surprise you, but I don’t think there’s anything I can do to top this.”

Drawing away, she gulped for air. “I was just trying to help Arlene and Rosa. That’s all.” She straightened her shoulders. “I had no idea it would turn into—”

“A brawl?”

“What? No! A—”

“Riot?”

Ignoring him, she dropped to her knees, hugged her dog, and patted the others milling around her. “You five were great. You did just what I asked you to do—except for the painting. How did you know what was back there?”

Sam stepped away and waited while Ellie held the same one-sided conversation she usually did with her pooch. She never seemed to mind it when people said she was crazy, so it didn’t pay to try to stop her.

He pulled out his shield and walked to the crowd of officials, who were huddled around the beefy guy he’d downed, the younger man who’d rescued the date book, and the woman Wheeling was arresting.

Ellie left the dogs and walked next to him. Loud sobbing made them both turn their heads. The woman in red was still on her knees, hugging the shredded painting and wailing like a banshee.

“What the heck is she crying about?” he asked Ellie.

“I think she just realized she wasn’t the love of the dead man’s life. He used her precious painting as a hiding place for records of his drug transactions.”

“This place is a zoo. Are you all right?”

Stepping closer, she snuggled against his chest. “I am now.”

It was then Wheeling sidled over and smiled grimly. “So you’re the poor Joe in Ms. Engleman’s life.” He shook his head. “You have my deepest sympathy.”

“You always run a three-ring circus when you wrap up a murder investigation?” Sam asked in return.

Wheeling cocked his head in Ellie’s direction. “You can thank your girlfriend for this over-the-top performance. We had nothing to do with it.”

“But she helped you nab the right suspects, correct?”

The detective shrugged. “Looks like.” He still had a hand on the woman he’d arrested. “But it’s going to take a while to sort it all out.”

 

Ellie leaned back in the sofa. For the past hour, the McCready family members had been questioned, one at a time, by the police. Though it wasn’t the lengthy grilling they’d received the night Dr. Kent had died, it ate up plenty of time.

With Ellie’s encouragement, Viv had spent most of the evening with her sisters and her parents. She imagined their talk would focus on the best place for Adrianne to take her “private vacation” for the next three months. Knowing that if she disagreed she’d be immediately cut loose from her security blanket, Adrianne would take the deal, Ellie figured.

And as much as she disliked the middle sister, she had to admit that Adrianne’s idiotic escapade had done some good. Without that painting, Agent Bond might never have found the elusive record book that incriminated Dr. Bordowski and Michael Forrest, as well as a couple of unscrupulous pharmaceutical reps.

Detective Levy and a cadre of cops had taken Dr. Bordowski and Uncle Mickey out with orders to book them both on murder. Now, with the living room in disarray, all five dogs were alongside her on the couch. Rudy dozed at her thigh, Mr. T was next to him, and the Boston Terriers slept at the end.

Somewhere in the back of the house, a door slammed. A moment later Rosa and her daughters arrived and began putting things to rights. “You were so cool,” Maria told her for the tenth time that evening. “What a great way to capture the real killer.”

Ellie smiled, but kept mum. She’d tried to explain to the girls, and Rosa and Julio, and Tomas, and anyone else who would listen, that she hadn’t planned on Adrianne carting the painting in, and that’s what really opened things up.

But no one wanted to hear it. They were positive she was the star of the night, and Viv, too, for corralling the doctor and holding her in place when the brawl broke out.

Viv, of course, took her kudos with a bow, and gave Ellie a cat-who-ate-the-cream smile whenever their eyes met.

Sam, on the other hand, figured out exactly what had happened and razzed her about her big unveiling. He’d gone down the hallway a while ago to lend the local cops a hand, and she hadn’t seen him since.

“Ms. Ellie,” said Rosa, standing beside her. “How can I thank you for saving my son?” She dabbed a tissue over her damp cheek. “You are an angel.”

“You don’t owe me a thing.” She ruffled Rudy’s ears to let him know he was the real hero of the night. “Just take care of Arlene. She’s going to need you and Julio in the next couple of months.”

“Sí,
we will. But Ms. Adrianne, she is not so lucky. She is carrying a lot of pain, and she still lets the bad medicine rule her.”