Begging for Trouble (22 page)

 

 

 

She raised her hand to follow the directions and Bitsy gave a whimper. “You okay, little girl?”

“I thought Buck was lookin’ for attention when he told me this place was a mausoleum,”
Rudy pronounced.
“Next time, I’ll believe him.”

Ellie lowered her fist. “He said what?”

She dropped to her knees. “Well, now’s a fine time to tell me. If I’d known—”

A rush of air fluttered the curls on her forehead. Looking over her shoulder, her gaze wandered upward from a pair of tiny black shoes, past a full-length black skirt shot with silver thread, over a long-sleeved black blouse, to a smiling, pleasant face.

“Uh, hi.” Ellie stumbled to her feet.

“
Allo,
” said the doll-like woman.

Towering over Madame Orzo, she imagined this was how Kronk felt, or the giant bouncer she’d met at Guess Who. If not for her funeral-appropriate clothing, the woman could pass for an upscale jewelry salesperson at Bergdorf’s. With her closely cropped brown hair and bright hazel eyes, she appeared ready to tackle anything life threw at her.

“I’m Ellie. You must be Madame Orzo.”

“Come
een,
come
een,
” the woman said, stepping back to give them room. “You are on time. That is good.”

Ellie and the dogs entered and she noted that the interior of the apartment was painted in muted colors of umber, peach, and orange. Glancing down, she smiled at a pair of Italian Greyhounds gazing at her from around a doorjamb.

Madame Orzo waggled a hand as she made her way down the hall. “Come, come. We must begin.”

Once Ellie arrived in the living room, the elegant dogs took no notice of her, choosing instead to give a typical canine greeting to Rudy and Bitsy. When her boy didn’t make a snarky comment after he sniffed and play-bowed with the new canines, she figured the Greyhounds had his stamp of approval.

So far, so good.

“Beautiful dogs,” she said, hoping to get off on the right foot with the psychic. And she meant it. Italian Greyhounds were fine-boned, loyal companions with happy dispositions. Though she’d never had one as a client, she had always admired them.

“Thank you,” Madame Orzo said, smiling.
“Mees-tee
and Spar-
kee
are my
cheel-
dren, so much more dependable than a man.”

Ellie translated the psychic’s odd pronunciation of the dogs’ names to “Misty” and “Sparky.” Madame Orzo’s accent was a bit like Kronk’s but seemed to include a touch of France, Spain, and Hungary for good measure. Asking the woman her country of origin might be construed as an insult, though. Even worse, the psychic’s affected speech, as well as her talent, could be a sham.

“And this is my boy, Rudy. He’s a pound puppy, but they thought he was a yorkiepoo, and he’s worth more to me than any purebred,” Ellie said. “I wouldn’t call him my child, but he is my best friend.”

“
’Ee eez
a very ’andsome fellow, no matter
’eez
breed.” The psychic’s brown eyes twinkled as they latched on to Bitsy. “And who
eez theez lee-til
girl?”

“This is Bitsy. I was told by her owner that she’s a Poodle-Chihuahua mix, so I call her a poohuahua, but I doubt that’s a combination anyone would recognize.”

Madame Orzo’s gaze returned to Rudy. After studying him for a moment, she left the room. Ellie thought maybe they’d done something to offend the woman, but before she could ask her boy about the possibility the psychic returned.

“ ’Eer, eez
for you.” She bent and offered Rudy a biscuit, which he quickly accepted. Standing, she said to Ellie, “Your boy was ’
un-gree.
I
’ope
giving him treat was all right.” Then she passed biscuits to her own dogs, who took the goodies to their beds in a corner of the room.

Ellie opened and closed her mouth as she gazed at Rudy. He’d already scarfed down the cookie and was curled on a corner of the rug. The least he could have done was warn her that Madame Orzo had read his mind.

“Of course not,” she answered. “And he’s not usually a beggar—” She hadn’t seen him do a thing that would have been considered begging. “How did you know?”

Madame Orzo laughed. “I am good at reading their minds, no?
Eez
how I make my
leev-ink
.” Focusing on Bitsy, who was standing next to Ellie, she squatted. “And you,
lee-til
one. I did not forget about you.” She held out a smaller treat, luring the poohuahua near.

Bitsy sniffed daintily, then took the biscuit and began to chew. While she ate, the psychic lifted her up and stood. “She is troubled, yes?”

“Ah . . . yes,” said Ellie, swallowing her surprise. Had she told Madame Orzo Bitsy was the dog that needed help? She glanced at Rudy, saw that he appeared to be sound asleep, and shrugged. “Are we—er—you going to start the session?”

The psychic nodded to a chair near Rudy. “We ’
ave
already begun. Sit, please, and turn off cell phone, while
Beet
-zee and I continue in peace.”

Ellie took a seat and did as asked with her phone, still unsure of what was happening. The woman was downright spooky, interacting with the dogs as if she could read their thoughts without any kind of voodoo or magical gestures. Then a lightbulb flashed in Ellie’s brain and she swallowed her surprise. Madame Orzo’s technique was close to what she did when she and her dogs spoke, except that this woman, instead of hiding her ability, advertised it for all to see. And Madame Orzo wasn’t embarrassed or afraid of being ridiculed either.

Suck it up,
Ellie told herself. She didn’t do the exact same thing, and she never claimed to be psychic. And though she actually did hear dogs’ voices in her head, she couldn’t read their thoughts. Her charges simply chose to share them. She raised her gaze and watched Madame Orzo and Bitsy grow comfortable. If things kept going in a positive direction, the night might actually be a success.

Eyes closed, Madame Orzo cuddled the poohuahua in her arms. Bitsy appeared content, so Ellie relaxed. The last thing she wanted was to further traumatize the petite pooch.

“Ah, I see.” Without opening her eyes, Madame Orzo spoke. “Let go of your fears and all will come to you,
lee-til
one.”

Ellie tried to home in on Bitsy’s thoughts, but nothing registered. “Do you know why we’re here?” she asked the psychic.

“But of course. You already know that
Beet-zee
, she
’as
seen something
’or-ee-ble.
Even unspeakable. She cannot tell you about it because she has buried it deep in her mind.”

Uh-oh
.
Ellie heaved a breath. The jig, as they said, was up. “Then you know what we—what I can do?”

Eyes closed, the psychic said, “You are blessed. I often
weesh
I could hear my
bay-beez
talk, the way you do, but it was not to be. It is enough I can read their thoughts, and do what I can to
’elp
other dogs.” Bitsy squirmed and Madame Orzo frowned, gazing at Ellie. “You write what I say, in case you do not remember later.”

Ellie reached into her tote bag and pulled out a pen and notepad. Time to stop talking and listen.

“I see what
Beet-
zee sees. That night, she was asleep, but she woke at the sound of angry voices. The voices grew louder, until one of the two humans standing in the room shoved the other. The next
theeng
she saw was a body dropping to the floor. And blood. So much blood.”

Ellie choked back a gasp. “Can you tell what the people looked like?”

Keeping her eyes closed, the psychic pressed her lips on the top of Bitsy’s head. After a second, she said, “No faces, only clothing from the legs down. The person who died wore a sparkling dress and shiny shoes. The other wore pants and shoes that were—” Madame Orzo stopped and looked at Ellie. “Shoes that belonged to a man.”

So the killer was male?
“Can you garner a little more in the way of details? Say, the color or size of the shoes?”

Madame Orzo furrowed her brow, then put her lips on Bitsy’s head again. A minute passed before she said, “No color but dark and wide with flat soles.”

“How about a scent?” Dogs’ sense of smell was their keenest insight into what went on around them. She hadn’t thought about it until now, but the poohuahua must have smelled something that made the killer stand out. “Does she remember if the man wore aftershave of some kind?”

Ellie wasn’t sure, but it looked as if the psychic was deep in concentration. Then the woman shrugged and opened her eyes.

“The room was filled with odors. Cologne, makeup, ’
air
spray . . . The scent of excitement engulfed the room. Bitsy has grown used to the smells, and didn’t notice anything new. All that stands out is the scent of blood.”

“That’s it? She doesn’t remember anything else?”

Madame Orzo pursed her lips. “I will
zee.
” A moment passed while the psychic concentrated. Then she shook her head. “No.
Eez
all.”

Okay, Ellie told herself, no identifying smell for the killer. On the plus side, she now knew that the guilty party was a man. But that wasn’t much to go on.

“Could you ask her—”

Madame Orzo frowned. “Sorry, but
eez
not a question-and-answer session. I can only put myself in her place and see what she saw.
Lee-til
girl is tired, as am I. She cannot
theenk
of more now—maybe later.” She ran a hand down Bitsy’s back. “I explain that if she recalls any-
theeng
else, she must talk direct-
lee
to you.”

She set Bitsy on the carpet and the poohuahua gave a head-to-toe body shake, then scampered to Ellie and jumped in her lap.
“I did good, huh? I remembered the shoes and a little about the argument. You want I should tell you what they said?”

“Now?” Ellie asked. Her gaze shot across the room. “Uh, sorry. It’s just that—”

“You have a lot to discuss, I
theenk. Eez
fine.” Madame Orzo stood. “We settle mon-
ee beez-ness
and you go, yes. I can do no more for you tonight.”

Ellie pulled out her wallet. She’d never asked the psychic how much she charged, but whatever the amount, it was worth every penny. The poohuahua had recalled a couple of true clues. “I brought my checkbook,” she told Madame Orzo.

“
Eez two
hundred doll-
airs
. You have driver’s license, yes?”

She wrote the check out and flipped open her license.

“Tel
-ee-
phone number is the same?” the psychic asked, all business.

“Yes, ma’am.” She dropped the wallet back in her tote, pulled out the leashes, and hooked up her dogs.

Madame Orzo walked them to the front door with the Greyhounds at her heels. “She
weel
be fine,” the woman said, nodding at Bitsy.

“I hope so. And thanks again for your help.”

 

Now on the sidewalk, Ellie zipped her parka with her right hand while she held the leashes with her left. The gusting wind seemed to seep through her quilted jacket and right into her bones. Glancing down, she watched Bitsy shiver as she tried to stay upright against the gale. Rob would be heartbroken, as would she, if she allowed something bad to happen to the poohuahua, like letting her get blown into the Hudson. If she’d been thinking, she would have dressed both her charges in winter coats before they left the apartment.

Raising her eyes to the heavens, Ellie viewed the thick cloud cover obliterating the stars and shading the moon. The weather had been so pleasant for the last couple of days, she’d forgotten it was still winter. She’d lived through many February and March blizzards in this town, even a few in April, and worried that might be the case by morning. Just because she hoped spring was right around the corner didn’t mean Mother Nature planned to work within her timetable.

“Come on, baby girl. I’ll keep you warm.” Crouching, she collected Bitsy and tucked her inside the parka. “Rudy, you going to be okay?”

“Stay close. We’re going where we’ll have an easier time finding a cab.”

The trio hurried to Sheridan Square, a more populated area. She wanted to question the dogs about their psychic experience, but the whistling wind, her chattering teeth, and the noise of the evening traffic made it impossible. She’d have to wait until they were in a taxi before they could talk, and maybe not even then if their driver turned out to be one of the chatty types and gave a running commentary on Manhattan’s points of interest as he traveled the streets.