Begging for Trouble (10 page)

Rudy gave an exaggerated stretch, walked in a circle, and lay back down.
“Dr. Dave did the usual: thermometer up the butt, heart check, ear check, eye check—you know, all the stuff he does when he looks me over every year.”

“I do know. So what else?”

Was it possible she and Dave shared the same psychic link with canines? “Please don’t tell me Bitsy answered him and he understood her.”

“And he made Bitsy feel that way, too?”

“Can you ask Bitsy if she’s willing to talk to me now?”

Before Rudy answered, Bitsy tottered to Ellie’s side and jumped onto her chest so they could gaze eyeball to eyeball.
“I’m ready to talk, Ellie, and I’m sorry if I’ve been worrying you.”

She laid a hand on the poohuahua’s back. “Oh, sweetie, I’m so happy to hear you. Are you feeling better?”

“He’s right. I’m here for you and Rob.”

Bitsy shivered.
“There was so much blood, and angry men took him away. It’s all I can think about.”

“Rob is home. I saw him this afternoon and he’s concerned, but he’s all right.” Hoping to put the little dog at ease, she added, “His sister and Bradley are coming to visit.”

“Bradley’s coming? Really, truly he is?”
Bitsy panted in excitement.
“I can hardly wait to see him again.”

“I take it you like Bradley?”

“Rob wouldn’t tell me, but I know you will. What kind of a dog is Bradley?”

Ellie grinned. Because of Bitsy’s size, almost every canine she met would be big. “How about his breed?”

“Let’s try to whittle that down. How large is he when you compare him to Rudy?”

The poohuahua gazed at the yorkiepoo as if she were sizing up a biscuit.
“Bradley is way, way bigger.”

Since her boy was only twelve pounds, that figured. “Can you be more specific?”

“That doesn’t make sense. Rob’s almost six feet tall.”

Bitsy gave a doggie shrug.
“All I know is I have to look way up to see his muzzle, just like I hafta do with Rob.”
She heaved a sigh.
“I miss him. When can I go home?”

“How does tomorrow afternoon sound?”

Bitsy moved closer and licked Ellie’s chin.
“It sounds great.”

She gathered the dog in her arms. “I don’t want to upset you, but you have to help me get to the truth about last night. Can you tell me what happened in the dressing room before Rob walked in?”

Bitsy started to shiver.
“I don’t remember all that much.”

“Were you awake? Did you actually see Carmella come in, and . . . whoever killed her?”

“The one we saw the other morning?”

“The sucker with the black bushy tail?”
Rudy asked.

“Let her finish.” Ellie gave the poohuahua another pat. “Go on, tell us more.”

Ellie bit her lip. Bitsy’s memory did not bode well for her master. “Was Rob the other person arguing with Carmella or was it someone else?”

“You don’t know or you don’t remember?”

Bitsy’s whimper tore at Ellie’s heart.
“Both, I guess. Is that important?”

“I’m afraid so, because right now you’re the only witness to the crime. We need you to recall exactly what happened.”

“I heard him say that, too, but without someone to corroborate his story—”

“Corroborate. It means to agree with what Rob said. No other human was a witness, just you, and since you can’t tell them . . .”

“It’s not that simple. First of all, no one would believe me if I said I heard the story from you. It’s bad enough some folks think I’m nutty for talking to the dogs I walk. If I said you gave me the details of the crime—”

“Detective Demento?”
Rudy broke in.
“He’s a putz.”

Ellie wrapped her fingers around her boy’s muzzle. “What Rudy means is Detective Ryder is all cop when he’s on a case. He doesn’t understand that some people can communicate with their pets. He’ll only believe what can be proved, and that’s not talking dogs.”

“Yeah, ‘oh,’”
Rudy repeated.
“So unless you can give us a name or a description of whoever was in there before Bobbi-Rob arrived, his ass is grass.”

“Enough,” Ellie muttered, grabbing his muzzle again. “There has to be a way to make this work.”

Bitsy nuzzled into Ellie’s chest.
“I’ll try to remember, really I will. I don’t want Rob to go to the big house.”

“The big house?” Raising an eyebrow, she stared at her boy. “Where did you hear that?”

“Jail, big house—same difference,”
the yorkiepoo gruffed.

“The term ‘big house’ is frightening,” Ellie scolded. “Bitsy’s worried enough without you upsetting her.”

“Not to worry, sweetie. Once we iron this out, nothing will happen to Rob and life will go on just like before.” She rubbed Bitsy’s ears. “How about you sleep on it, think about remembering, and see where that leads you? Maybe you’ll have some answers in the morning.”

The poohuahua yawned.
“I am kinda tired.”

“I imagine so.” Ellie rolled to her side. “If you want, you can snuggle with Rudy and close your eyes. I’m here if you need me.”

Bitsy yawned again and scratched at the duvet. After walking in a circle, she lay down and did as Ellie suggested. A moment passed; then Rudy sniffed the top of the poohuahua’s head and snurffled her ears.
“She’s almost asleep,”
he whispered.
“Wish I could zone out like that.”

“Since you’ve never had the problem Bitsy has right now, I know you always zone out like that.”

“Okay, okay. I get the picture.” She stroked the spot between Rudy’s ears. “It’s just that Bitsy’s a baby. She hasn’t been around the block, so to speak, and—”

“Ha-ha. You know what I mean.”

The yorkiepoo snorted.
“So maybe I do. That doesn’t mean I don’t worry about you.”

“Like I worry about you.” She turned off the light and pulled up the covers. “What do you think I should do next?”

“Fine. Me. You. We want to help Rob and Bitsy. What do you think we should do next?” Ellie stifled a yawn. “And make it fast because I’m beat.”

“I’ll sleep on it. Maybe something will come to me overnight, just like I hope things will straighten themselves out in Bitsy’s head.”

“Why are you so sure of that?”

“Because Bitsy loves Bobbi-Rob, just like I love you. She’s not gonna rest until she helps prove him innocent.”
He licked Ellie’s cheek.
“And neither will we.”

Bitsy woke the next day more alert and talkative than she’d been since the night of the murder, so Ellie decided to take her along on her round of morning walks. She figured the exercise would keep the poohuahua’s mind occupied for a few hours and help calm her nerves. Over breakfast, Bitsy confessed that she hadn’t remembered anything new about the night of Rob’s arrest, but she felt certain she’d recall what had gone down at the club if she were given a little more time.

On the way to the Beaumont, their first building of the day, the trio stopped at the nearest Joe to Go to pick up Randall’s twice-weekly tea and Natter’s regular coffee. Ever since Rudy had been kidnapped from in front of the store, Joe Cantiglia, her old college buddy, had allowed Ellie to bring her boy into the coffee shop disguised as a “service dog.” Since no one had ever asked to inspect his completion certificate, and not a single person had complained about having a canine in the shop, she hoped she would be safe this morning with two dogs in tow. She had immense respect for service dogs and what they did for humankind. Eventually, she thought she’d take Rudy through their training steps and actually have him awarded the designation, but not today.

“Hey, Nancy Drew. You’re early today,” said Joe when she walked to the counter.

“Not funny, pal.” She knew Joe was trying for humor, but it wasn’t always welcome.

“Sorry. Is something up your—” He narrowed his eyes. “Uh-oh. Don’t tell me you’re involved in another murder thing.”

“Not involved, exactly. But I do have a new companion.”

Striding from around the register, Joe squatted. “Hello, fella.” He gazed at Ellie. “He’s a bitty thing, isn’t he?”

Seeming to not care that Joe had guessed her gender incorrectly, Bitsy nuzzled his palm while Rudy gave a doggie snort.
“Guess again, paisan. That’s a female you’re strokin’.”

Ellie jerked the yorkiepoo’s leash, her unspoken warning to be polite. “Bitsy is a girl. If you were a canine expert, I’d have called her a bitch.”

Joe rose to his feet but continued to stare at the dog. “She may be a girl, but she certainly doesn’t look like a bitch to me. Is she your new pup?”

“She belongs to one of my clients, but I’ve been watching her the past two days. She’s a sweetie, but she’s under a bit of stress right now.”

“Stress?” Joe asked. “I can’t believe there’s an iota of stress in her life if you’re on guard. When I die, I want to come back as one of your dogs. Nothing better than being treated like royalty, right, Rudster?”

Rudy stood on his hind legs and rested his paws on Joe’s calf.
“I’m worth every bit of special treatment, Bozo,”
he wisecracked.
“Dogs as good as me deserve the best.”

“What kind of stress?” Joe said, unaware of Rudy’s comment.

Ellie spotted a newspaper stand in front of the register and nodded toward the top publication, which carried a smaller headline and sidebar on the death of Carmella Sunday. “Have you been reading the papers?”

“Yeah, sure, but the only thing making the front page these days is a story about some drag queen and her dead lover.”

Ellie shrugged and his eyes opened wide. “Holy cannoli. Don’t tell me you’re involved in another—”

Her ragged sigh stopped Joe in his tracks.

“Jeez, I don’t believe this.”

“How about giving me a shortbread cookie?”

When she glanced at the dogs, he went behind the counter, retrieved a cookie, and brought it over. After handing it to her, he grabbed her elbow and hauled her out of the foot traffic. Ellie pulled napkins from a holder, broke the cookie into pieces, and set everything on the floor.

Rudy and Bitsy dived into the treat and she faced Joe. “The accused killer is my client, and Bitsy is his dog.” She raised her hand in a hold-your-horses gesture. “And before you give me a lecture—”

“What the heck is wrong with you, sticking your nose into another crime?”

Ellie grimaced. “I was there when it happened.”