THAT SAME DAY
Connie rested the platter on the dining room table. She then walked over toward me and wrapped one arm around my waist. “He has no idea,” she whispered. “Dad made everyone in the restaurant take an oath not to say anything.”
“Where’s the crate?” I asked.
“I put it in your office and closed the door,” Connie said. “In case the puppy made any noise. I left him water and a little bit of food.”
“Kibble or veal cutlet?” Pearl asked, smiling.
“I can’t wait to see the look on his face,” Connie said.
“Who’s going to give it to him?” I asked.
“I think this falls under your command, partner,” Pearl said. “Your house, your nephew, and now your dog.”
“Thanks, roomie,” I said. “But remember, he’s Chris’s dog and he’s the team’s responsibility. We all agreed, at least that’s how I remember it.”
“Go get the puppy, honey,” Connie said. “We’ll worry about the logistics later.”
I walked out of the room and headed toward my office. As I passed Chris, I smiled and gave him a warm pat on the shoulder. The truth was, despite my initial negativity, I’d warmed to the idea of Chris having a puppy. I began to realize the good it would do for him, as well as for me and for Pearl. For all of us.
The past few years had been difficult ones for many of the members of my team—me and Pearl being shot off the job and then having to make the adjustment to civilian life and maneuvering our way toward a new career path. And Pearl had the additional burden of coping with the physical and mental anguish of life in a wheelchair.
Working our previous case earlier in the year, we’d had to bear the loss of Joey, a man too talented and young to be felled by a bullet that was meant for me. His death is another that can never be erased from my mind. He died in my arms, the blood from his wound seeping through my fingers and drenching my clothes, his body spread across a cracked and stained New York City sidewalk. He died because of me. There is no one else to blame.
Chris lost both his parents—a brother I had once loved, and his wife, who was a stranger to me. I took Chris in to live with me and watched him adapt to a much different life, a fifteen-year-old boy forced to grow up faster than he should have. His anger at their deaths and his resentment toward me had dissipated somewhat these past few months, but traces of it lingered.
Carmine had suffered a brutal beating at the hands of a drug lord I butted heads with in the spring. It took him a few weeks to recover and he more than got a taste of revenge, helping in the fight to take down the dealer. But it had slowed him down and made him more aware of his age and limitations. Even though a fresh battle against a hard-to-take-down opponent is like rocket fuel to a former crime boss like Carmine.
Alexandra had had to deal with two thugs, one who was more than ready to slice off a chunk of her face. She used her wiles and a loaded gun to ease her way out of that traffic jam, but, still, the very thought of the damage she could have suffered troubled me.
Carl had come out of the previous case more determined than ever to prove his value to the team. The combination of the loss of Joey and the arrival of Chris had matured him in some ways, and he realized he needed to step up and be as much of a role model for my nephew as his friend had been. And through it all, Bruno had helped me keep the crew united and focused. His was the steady hand, always there when needed, fearless, willing to step into any situation, regardless of the danger.
Things between me and Connie had also changed, but for the better. Chris had drawn us closer and, rather than becoming a wedge between us, had fortified the bond that already existed. And while the addition to the team of her old college boyfriend didn’t exactly give me cause to jump for joy, I didn’t think of Bobby as a threat to our relationship.
And now we were ready to add a dog to our menagerie of misfits. An olde English bulldogge, meant as a gift for Chris. My hope was that, in time, he would prove to be a gift to us all.
I opened the door to my office and flipped on the light. The gate to the small crate was open and empty. I looked around the office and found the puppy snuggled under my chair, tiny head curled against his two folded front legs, one eye open and glancing up at me.
I bent down and sat on the wood floor and lifted him gently into my arms. I held him close to my chest and rubbed the back of his soft neck. “You picked the lock on the crate,” I whispered to him. “Considering you’ve only been up here less than an hour, that’s impressive. I have a feeling you’re going to fit right in.”