Begging for Trouble (3 page)

“Ellie? Where are you? And what’s going on?”

“There’s been an accident. Someone was stabbed.”

“Stabbed. Like in murdered?”

“I’m not sure,” she whispered. “I’m backstage, waiting to talk to Sam. According to Vince, I’m supposed to stand here and not move.”

“Sam’s partner is there, too?”

“Yep. I can only assume they’ll be working together on this little . . . er . . . problem. Where are you and Dr. Dave?”

“On the sidewalk out front. Dave’s trying to catch a cab, but with this crowd it might take a while. When the cops announced everyone had to leave, I was hoping you’d come home with us.”

“I’m fairly certain I’ll be staying for a bit.”

“So give me the scoop. Who got stabbed? And why?”

“I think it was Rob.”

“Your friend got stabbed?”

“No. But Sam found him with the body.” She swallowed. “It doesn’t look good.”

“He thinks your client is the killer? Are you sure?”

Ellie ran a hand across her forehead, shoving her damp curls into further disarray. “No, I’m not sure, but when I peeked into the dressing room I saw Rob kneeling over the body and—”

“The dead body?” Vivian asked, as if Ellie had just told her there was a live cow backstage.

“I think so.” Was the person really dead? Maybe not, though there was an awful lot of blood. “Probably.”

“And you’re going to wait for Sam?”

Not just Sam, but Rob, too. He was her friend and could probably use some support right now. At least, this time she wouldn’t have to be taken in for questioning. “Those are my orders, and when the officers in charge are in official detective mode, there’s no point in arguing.”

“Then you won’t be upset if Dave and I go to my place?”

“Of course not. Just do me a favor and walk Rudy. He’ll worry if I’m not home soon, and he needs to go out before bed.”

“Okay, sure. Dave and I will take him when we do Mr. T. We can talk tomorrow.”

Ellie closed her phone, stuck it in her bag, and slouched against the wall. She still heard low voices muttering and saw flashes of light shooting from the crime scene doorway, which told her the investigators hadn’t finished their job. She spotted a metal folding chair a little way down the hall, retrieved it, and took a seat. If this was going to take a while, at least she could be comfortable.

She closed her eyes and time seemed to stop. Next thing she knew, she was glancing at her watch and realized that close to two hours had passed. The EMTs took that moment to exit the room pushing a gurney with a zipped body bag resting on top, which gave Ellie the answer to Vivian’s question. Dr. Bridges and Dr. Kingsgate filed out, and finally Vince, Sam, and Rob entered the hall along with two patrol officers.

Rob appeared nothing like the confident performer he’d been just a few hours ago. His dress was covered in blood, his wig was gone, his makeup was a runny mess, and his hands were cuffed behind his back. When their gazes collided, he tried to approach her, but Sam held him back.

“Ellie, thank God you’re here. You have to help me. It’s Bitsy. She’s—”

“Take it easy, Mr. Chesney. Ms. Engleman can’t help you. We’re taking a trip downtown.”

Ellie stood, remembering to act professional and calm so she didn’t agitate Sam. “Detective Ryder. If you could give us a minute?”

Sam traded frowns with Vince, who said, “I don’t see the harm. We’ve done all we need to for tonight.” He glanced at the floor. “Hell, we couldn’t even get a decent footprint what with all the idiots tramping up and down the hall.”

Ellie gave Sam a pleading look.

“All right, but just one minute. Mr. Chesney still has to be booked,” he told her.

She smiled at Rob. “You don’t need to worry about Bitsy. I have keys. I’ll pick her up from your apartment on the way home and keep her at my place.”

“But she isn’t at the apartment. She’s—she’s here,” he said, his voice breaking.

“Hang on. Your dog is in the dressing room?” asked Sam.

Rob kept his eyes on Ellie as he spoke. “She’s supposed to be under my makeup table, unless whoever did this stole her—or something worse.”

“I’ll take a look,” said Vince, raising his still-latexgloved hands in front of him. He went back into the room and returned toting a small pink dog carrier. “Is this what you’re talking about?”

“Where did you find that?” asked Sam.

“Right where he said, but pushed all the way to the wall. The room was so damn tight. My guess is no one noticed it.” Vince narrowed his gaze and inspected the carrier. “It looks clean, but you never know. What do you want to do with it?”

“It’s part of the crime scene,” Sam answered. “It has to be dusted for prints, photographed, treated as evi—”

“But Bitsy can’t stay in that room overnight. She needs to go out, to be taken care of, f-fed—” Rob stuttered.

Sam gazed at the ceiling, as if he hadn’t a clue.

“How about we give Ellie the dog, like he asks, and I put the carrier back exactly where I found it?” Vince suggested. “The dog’s not going to tell us what happened, so we don’t need it for evidence, but there could be something on the case.”

Ellie peered into the mesh opening on the side of the carrier and saw Bitsy, her eyes closed, shuddering. “What would you normally do with a dog found at a crime scene?”

Sam shrugged. “It rarely happens, but we’re supposed to bring them to the city shelter. I don’t know if—”

“The city shelter? God, no!” Rob cried. “She’s my baby, the only thing I have in the world I can count on. Please, Detective, let Ellie take her for tonight, and ask someone for permission tomorrow.”

Sam and Vince exchanged looks of impatience.

“I’ll sign papers—do whatever I have to do so she can stay in Ellie’s custody,” Rob continued.

Vince opened the top of the carrier and held it out to Ellie. “Don’t touch anything. Just remove the dog.”

She slipped her hands inside, cupped the tiny pooch, and lifted Bitsy to her chest. The adorable dog weighed all of four pounds and was trembling like a scoop of Jell-O on a plate. “You okay, little girl?”

Bitsy snuggled into her arms.

“We’re taking Mr. Chesney to Green Street,” said Sam. “Where he’ll be processed for arraignment. I’ll phone you about the dog tomorrow.”

Ellie arrived home from the club, paid the cabdriver, and pulled the extra leash she carried for emergencies from her bag. After snapping it to Bitsy’s rhinestone collar, she walked the pup to the corner. Bitsy squatted, did her business, and huddled at Ellie’s ankles until she was picked up and carried to the apartment building.

She’d made a few tries at getting the poohuahua to talk on the taxi ride, but so far Bitsy hadn’t said a word. Ellie imagined the pup was probably still in shock from all the terrible things that had gone down in Rob’s dressing room. Between the screaming, the police, the EMTs, the swarming investigators, and seeing her owner covered in blood, she’d had a night filled with chaos and upheaval.

At the top of the porch steps, she held the still-shaking pooch in one hand, dug for her keys with the other, and unlocked the door. She juggled the tiny dog until she got inside, then held Bitsy close to her chest and climbed the two flights to her condo.

Ellie thought about knocking on Vivian’s door on the way up, but it was after one, too late to disturb her friend when there was next to nothing she could say. Hoping to calm Bitsy and get her settled, she continued the climb while she whispered soothing words. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. Nothing’s going to happen while you’re in my care.”

No comment from Bitsy.

“I know you’re upset. I would be, too, if I saw what you saw. But Rob will be fine, and you’ll be back together soon.”

She sighed. The poohuahua didn’t make a sound, just continued to tremble, ratcheting Ellie’s worry quotient to the breaking point. On their twice-daily walks, Bitsy had no problem speaking her mind, but when Rudy was with them she was a regular chatterbox. The dog’s absolute silence now was a concern. Maybe if she got Bitsy together with her yorkiepoo, she’d be more willing to speak.

After doing another juggling act to open her apartment, she went into the kitchen, set her tote and Bitsy on the table, and removed her coat. “Do you want to walk or should I carry you to the bedroom?”

Not a sound, not even a plaintive whimper, escaped Bitsy’s doggie lips.

Ellie scooped her up and held her near. “I feel your pain, sweetie, but you’ll sleep next to Rudy tonight. I’m sure that will make you feel better.”

They entered the bedroom and she smiled at her boy, curled on the pillow next to her own. “Now that’s what I call being a good watchdog,” she teased, setting Bitsy on the foot of the bed. “Did you help the robbers clean out the apartment?”

“I knew it was you the second the door opened,”
Rudy answered after yawning. Then he stretched and gave a sneeze.
“Why’d you bring Bitsy to our house? Was Bobbi-Rob’s act so bad she decided to leave home?”

Tsk
ing, Ellie started to undress. Rudy had known about Rob Chesney’s cross-dressing from the moment they met. The stinker thought it amusing that she was in the dark right up until Rob came to that party in regular male clothing. Calling him Bobbi-Rob was her dog’s way of continuing the joke.

“Don’t be silly. Rob was great, very talented. The whole show was amazing . . . until the murder.”

Rudy gave a full-body shake.
“Not funny, Triple E. You promised there’d be none of that talk ever again, remember?”

“Oh, I remember,” she said, pulling her sweater off over her head. Walking to the closet, she folded the garment and put it on a shelf, then slipped out of her gray wool slacks and hung them up. “But it couldn’t be helped. There was a”—she glanced at Bitsy, who was huddled into a tight ball, and held a finger to her lips—“problem at the club tonight. Someone got killed and they arrested Rob.”

“Yep.” Ellie donned a sleep shirt, gave Bitsy a pat, and headed for the bathroom. After performing her nightly ritual, she returned to the bedroom and found Rudy lying next to their houseguest, his pose protective.

“Has she said anything?”

“I was hoping you’d do that. Bitsy is always talkative when you’re around, but she hasn’t said word one to me.” She doused the light and snuggled under the covers. A few minutes later Rudy gave her cheek a sloppy lick. “I thought you were sleeping next to Bitsy.”

Ellie ruffled his ears. “Yes. One minute the performers were headed into the finale; the next someone offstage was screaming like a freight train. Sam left to—”

“He was simply doing his job as an officer of the law.”

“I followed him, of course. I didn’t want him to get hurt.”

“I didn’t hear any shots, so I thought it might be a fight. When I got to the backstage area, I took a look in the room with a crowd at the door and . . .”

“There was blood. Lots and lots of blood,” she said in a hushed tone. “And Rob was kneeling over the body with a pair of scissors in his hand.”

“Exactly what I thought, but nobody asked for my opinion.”

“Not just the cops. Vince, the medical examiner, her new assistant, the EMTs, the whole investigative team. Before I could find out more, the place was crawling with officials.”

“Under Rob’s makeup table. She would have been left there overnight or, worse, taken to the city pound if he hadn’t asked me to look after her.”

“Typical cop reaction,”
the yorkiepoo pronounced.
“Forget the canines. They’re not worth a second thought.”

“You’re being too harsh. Vince and Sam could have insisted they take Bitsy to canine prison, but they agreed to let her stay with us. They did the best they could.” She rolled to her side and gave him a shove. “Now get down there and stay close in case she has a nightmare or something. If she wakes up, try and get her to talk. I’ll find out what else we can do in the morning.”

 

“Bitsy is totally traumatized,” Ellie said as she and Rudy accompanied Vivian to her subway stop. “On this morning’s walk, she did her business, then sat in a trance until I picked her up and carted her the rest of the way home. If she doesn’t act normal by the end of the day, I’m taking her to Dr. Dave for a checkup.”