Free Unleashed (A Sydney Rye Novel, # 1) by Emily Kimelman Page B

Snaffles. Come.” He didn’t move. I walked over to him. The corner was dark, and I stepped on a squeaky toy. The sound made me jump. Snaffles didn’t even twitch.
    “Maybe you should just go,” Mrs. Saperstein said.
    “Whatever you want.” I started to back away from Snaffles.
    Mrs. Saperstein stood in the doorway of the kitchen silhouetted against the strange light of the living room. I walked toward her, but she didn’t move. “Tell your friend Charlene I’m on to her,” she hissed at me.
    “She's not my friend,” I protested. A tense silence bulged in the space between us. Finally, she moved aside, and I squeezed past her.
    What was the f was that, I wondered as the elevator took me back down to street level. Snaffles had looked really dead. I mean dead. Did she kill her dog? Excuse me—her cheating husband’s dog? As I stepped out into the warm light of the day I felt goose bumps rise on my flesh.

 
     
    Oh, Toby
     
    At the Maxims’ I gave Toby his lunch, and then we headed out for a walk. Halfway through the marble-encased lobby, a tall gentleman with jet-black hair and gray temples wearing a tailored pinstriped suit intercepted us.
    “Ms. Joy?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
    “Yes.”
    “I am a friend of Marcia’s.”
    This must be the famous Philip, I thought. “How do you do?”
    “Marcia told me that you were wondering if anyone had seen anything on the early morning of your former employer’s departure from this world and his unpleasant ascent to the next.”
    “That’s one way of putting it.”
    “May I suggest that you talk to Gregory Chamers?  He works at Eighty-Eight East End Avenue.”
    “Why?” Instead of answering me, he floated off to the front desk, where a woman in her early sixties wearing a pink velour jumpsuit and carrying a gold lamé purse was talking in increasingly higher-pitched tones to a distressed-looking bellboy. I watched Philip soothe the woman, place his hand on her elbow, and lead her to the elevator banks.
    Toby and I left the building and turned uptown. The clip-clop of horses’ hooves caused Toby to turn. When he saw the giant beasts approaching, Toby ran to me and squeezed himself between my legs. I raised a hand to shield my eyes from the sun and looked up at Doyle and O’Conner. “Hello, officers.”
    “Hello Ms. Humbolt,” they said in unison which I thought was pretty darn cute. Two strapping police officers on horseback was really quite a sight, I decided.
    “How’s the investigation going?” I asked.
    Doyle frowned. “I’m sorry I don’t know. Unfortunately, I knew the victim personally so have no access to the case.” He saw the look on my face and continued. “It’s fine,” he said. “I didn’t know him well. We just belong to the same social club.” He threw a glance at O’Conner who tipped his helmet at me and rode off down the street. Doyle shifted in his saddle and leaned down toward me.
    “Is something wrong?” I asked.
    “No, no,” he smiled. “I just wanted to know if you’d be interested in going out with me some time.” He smiled with big white, straight teeth. “I’m not involved in the case in any way so there is no ethical reason why I shouldn’t ask you out.”
    I laughed. Doyle leaned back and touched his hand to her heart. “She laughs at me?” he said in mock shock.
    “No, I’m sorry. I just never had a guy mention ethics while asking me out.”
    “Maybe the wrong kinda guy’s been asking you out.”
    “Ouch.”
    “Are you free Saturday night?”
    I thought about fake checking my phone to see if I was booked but instead I laughed. “Yeah, I’m free.”
    “Great,” he grinned at me. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
    “Perfect,” I said. He trotted to catch up with his partner. I watched them as they turned toward the park, a huge grin on my face. What fun, I thought. Toby stayed cowering between my legs.

 
     
    Night Walk
     
    I did not give Snaffles his evening walk. I paced outside