hall of the comfortably appointed unit checking the rooms. “What do you think? Should we be worried about the situation?”
Rudy sniffed the doorway of each room. “I’m not gettin’ a whiff of trouble, so my guess is the car girl forgot.” He loved referring to Sara as Sara Sedan, Sara Ferrari, sometimes even Sara Convertible, depending on his mood, even though her family had no connection to the automobile industry.
Ellie stopped in the kitchen and went to the spot where she left her daily progress reports. “Maybe you’re right, but I’m still worried. There’s no note, and she usually leaves one if she has to go out.”
Without a clue on how to proceed, she left Sara’s place and moved down through the floors, picking up Scooter, Fred, and Spike. With two fewer dogs to walk, she finished in twenty minutes, returned them all home, and headed for the Cranston.
“You sure got a lot of us to walk,” chimed Bitsy, who had never accompanied them on their entire route before.
“I had an assistant until last November,” she told the poohuahua as they entered the Cranston Arms lobby and headed for the elevator. “I’m advertising for another right now.”
“Was that the pretty girl who walked us a time or two the day you were at that show?”
Ellie unlocked Freud’s door, introduced him to Bitsy, and let the dogs get acquainted in the usual manner. After a round of sniffing and bowing, she answered the question. “Her name was Joy. Did you like her?”
“She was okay, but she talked on the phone a lot. And sometimes she forgot to give us our biscuit.”
Joy spending time on the phone didn’t bother Ellie. It was easy to walk and talk at the same time. But not giving the dogs their treats was a different matter. “No biscuits? Why didn’t one of you tell me?”
“We knew you were extra-busy so we talked it over and agreed not to,” Bitsy explained. “It sorta just slipped out.”
“Did you know about that?” she asked her boy as they arrived at the next apartment.
“Who, me? Nope. Didn’t know a thing.”
“You are such a liar,” she scolded. “Someone should have told me, so I could deal with the situation.”
“I thought about it,” said Rudy. “Then Joy quit, so I figured ‘no biggie’ and filed it away.”
They collected Freud, a French Bulldog; Arlo, a miniature Dachshund; Rocco, a black toy Poodle; Dilbert, the long-haired Chihuahua; Lily, a tiny Bichon with a sweet disposition; and finally Sampson, the extra-large Pug.
On the sidewalk, Ellie noted the weather was even more agreeable than she’d first thought, and so she let the pack take their time. Then she sat on a bench and inhaled the fresh air. When her phone rang, she checked the number. Though it didn’t register on caller ID, she picked it up anyway. “Paws in Motion. How may I help you?”
“Are you the person lookin’ for a dog walker?” asked a male voice awash in a Brooklyn accent. “Ellie Engleman?”
“That’s me. Are you interested in the job?”
“Uh, yeah. I mean, maybe.” The man cleared his throat. “How much does the gig pay?”
Ellie recited the amount she’d been giving Joy, which was 50 percent of what she charged for the walks.
“So, uh, what would I have to do?”
“Before I answer, maybe you could give me a name, Mr. . . . ?”
“Rizzoli. Tony—er—Anthony Rizzoli.”
“Thanks, Mr. Rizzoli. I’ll explain what the job entails and you feel free to ask questions.” She went over the times of day he would need to work, as well as the bonding and insurance papers he would need to fill out. “How does that sound to you?”
“Easy enough. So what do we do next?”
“How about a meeting? Say, this afternoon around five thirty at the building I need you for?” She gave him the name and address of the Cranston Arms.
“Sure, fine. Whatever you say. Meet you in the lobby at five thirty.”
“We gonna get another new walker?” asked Arlo when Ellie ended the
Rudy sniffed the doorway of each room. “I’m not gettin’ a whiff of trouble, so my guess is the car girl forgot.” He loved referring to Sara as Sara Sedan, Sara Ferrari, sometimes even Sara Convertible, depending on his mood, even though her family had no connection to the automobile industry.
Ellie stopped in the kitchen and went to the spot where she left her daily progress reports. “Maybe you’re right, but I’m still worried. There’s no note, and she usually leaves one if she has to go out.”
Without a clue on how to proceed, she left Sara’s place and moved down through the floors, picking up Scooter, Fred, and Spike. With two fewer dogs to walk, she finished in twenty minutes, returned them all home, and headed for the Cranston.
“You sure got a lot of us to walk,” chimed Bitsy, who had never accompanied them on their entire route before.
“I had an assistant until last November,” she told the poohuahua as they entered the Cranston Arms lobby and headed for the elevator. “I’m advertising for another right now.”
“Was that the pretty girl who walked us a time or two the day you were at that show?”
Ellie unlocked Freud’s door, introduced him to Bitsy, and let the dogs get acquainted in the usual manner. After a round of sniffing and bowing, she answered the question. “Her name was Joy. Did you like her?”
“She was okay, but she talked on the phone a lot. And sometimes she forgot to give us our biscuit.”
Joy spending time on the phone didn’t bother Ellie. It was easy to walk and talk at the same time. But not giving the dogs their treats was a different matter. “No biscuits? Why didn’t one of you tell me?”
“We knew you were extra-busy so we talked it over and agreed not to,” Bitsy explained. “It sorta just slipped out.”
“Did you know about that?” she asked her boy as they arrived at the next apartment.
“Who, me? Nope. Didn’t know a thing.”
“You are such a liar,” she scolded. “Someone should have told me, so I could deal with the situation.”
“I thought about it,” said Rudy. “Then Joy quit, so I figured ‘no biggie’ and filed it away.”
They collected Freud, a French Bulldog; Arlo, a miniature Dachshund; Rocco, a black toy Poodle; Dilbert, the long-haired Chihuahua; Lily, a tiny Bichon with a sweet disposition; and finally Sampson, the extra-large Pug.
On the sidewalk, Ellie noted the weather was even more agreeable than she’d first thought, and so she let the pack take their time. Then she sat on a bench and inhaled the fresh air. When her phone rang, she checked the number. Though it didn’t register on caller ID, she picked it up anyway. “Paws in Motion. How may I help you?”
“Are you the person lookin’ for a dog walker?” asked a male voice awash in a Brooklyn accent. “Ellie Engleman?”
“That’s me. Are you interested in the job?”
“Uh, yeah. I mean, maybe.” The man cleared his throat. “How much does the gig pay?”
Ellie recited the amount she’d been giving Joy, which was 50 percent of what she charged for the walks.
“So, uh, what would I have to do?”
“Before I answer, maybe you could give me a name, Mr. . . . ?”
“Rizzoli. Tony—er—Anthony Rizzoli.”
“Thanks, Mr. Rizzoli. I’ll explain what the job entails and you feel free to ask questions.” She went over the times of day he would need to work, as well as the bonding and insurance papers he would need to fill out. “How does that sound to you?”
“Easy enough. So what do we do next?”
“How about a meeting? Say, this afternoon around five thirty at the building I need you for?” She gave him the name and address of the Cranston Arms.
“Sure, fine. Whatever you say. Meet you in the lobby at five thirty.”
“We gonna get another new walker?” asked Arlo when Ellie ended the
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