Hitched

“But I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not!” Hattie insisted. “You just said your head hurt.”

Joyce decided to try and placate her. “I’m kind of thirsty,” she said. “Could I please have a glass of water?”

“The water’s kind of rusty. It needs to be boiled. Problem with these old pipes. Why don’t I make you a nice cup of tea?”

“Okay.”

Joyce tried to sit up again, but the effort was too much. “Is my purse around here?”

“Huh?”

“My purse.”

“I didn’t see no purse.”

“It has my cell phone in it.”

“I haven’t heard anything ringing.”

“Could I use your phone?”

“I don’t have a phone. When you got nobody to call, you don’t need a phone.”

“You say that I fell right outside. Would you mind looking to see if my purse is on the ground? It’s black and has a shoulder strap.”

Hattie shrugged. She went over to the front door, which faced the steps that ran up the side of the building to street level, and opened it. A couple of leaves had blown down and landed outside the door, but that was it. Hattie quickly ascended a couple of the steps, turned her head, and peered out. Everything was calm and quiet. Just as quickly she went back inside. She shut the door and locked it. “Nope. No purse. Somebody probably stole it.”

This is crazy, Joyce thought. I’ve got to get out of here. I believe her story. She didn’t kidnap me. I drank too much and got myself into this mess. She’s nothing but a good Samaritan who’s a little nuts. At least I hope that’s all she is. But I’ve got to go home.

Hattie turned on the kettle. A few minutes later she brought Joyce a steaming cup of hot herbal tea. “This will make you feel better,” she said. Her weathered face wore an intense expression. She grabbed a pillow and shoved it down behind Joyce’s head.

Joyce sat up and slowly took a sip of the hot brew. If I weren’t so thirsty, she thought, I’d never drink this. Some of these herbal teas taste awful. As she sipped, she wondered if anyone was looking for her. Francis was who knows where, her mother was on a cruise, but at least Cindy must be worried. I’ve got to let her know I’m okay. All of a sudden a dog started barking ferociously. But it wasn’t one of the four dogs in the room.

“Shut up!” Hattie yelled. “My friend’s dog is in the bedroom. I don’t know what to do with him. He’s big and a little mean. He doesn’t get along with the other dogs.”

“Is he throwing himself against the door?” Joyce asked as a loud thumping noise shook the apartment.

“Yup,” Hattie said. “He hasn’t been feeling good. I think he’s sad that his master died. I’m sad, too. But I don’t know what to do! And he won’t eat his food.”

When Joyce’s eyes started to droop again, she realized she’d made a mistake. I shouldn’t be so tired, she thought. This nutcase must have laced the tea with drugs. Luckily, I didn’t drink too much of it. She put the cup down and fell back asleep.

41

Tom Belfiore lived on the west side of lower Manhattan in Battery Park City. On weekend mornings he loved to take his Irish setter out for a bout of fresh air and exercise. Sometimes he and Greeny went all the way up to Central Park and joined other New Yorkers, with or without dogs, who enjoyed ru

A new dog run at Kowsky Plaza even had water fountains for dogs to splash in and mounds for them to jump over. That was Greeny’s favorite.

This Sunday morning Tom opted to stay downtown. A young and attractive ad salesman for a sports magazine, he enjoyed the outdoors as much as his dog. But taking Greeny for a walk or run in Manhattan was always an experience. The adventurous mutt loved to sniff out and explore every nook and cra

Today was no exception.

After spending time at the dog run, they wandered north, ambling through Tribeca, SoHo, and Greenwich Village, almost all the way to the Meatpacking District. They turned down one of the little side streets off Washington, and were heading back over toward the river. Greeny had his nose down, slowly examining every inch of pavement. He led Tom over toward the curb, then suddenly dove between two parked cars. Such rapid movement usually meant he had spotted a much smaller creature and felt confident enough to give chase.

“Come on, Greeny,” Tom urged. “Let’s go.”

But Greeny’s head was down. Something had caught his attention. He was straining the leash as he attempted to make his way under one of the cars.

Tom leaned over and tried to see what Greeny’s fuss was all about. Then he saw it. A woman’s purse. Tom nudged his dog to get out of the way, bent down, and picked up the bag. “Good boy,” Tom said, petting Greeny’s head. “Somebody must have lost their purse, but you found it, didn’t you? Good boy!” Greeny wagged his tail joyfully.

Tom unzipped the small black bag and smiled at the sight of a Hershey’s chocolate bar. Next to it was a small cell phone. He reached his hand in, pulled out a driver’s license, and looked at the picture. A woman named Joyce who lived in Queens. She’s cute, Tom thought. The only other items in the purse were a credit card in her name and keys. No cash. A hard-core thief would have used the credit card and taken the cell phone. Someone probably took the money and ran.

“We’re making a special stop, Greeny,” Tom said, “then we’ll go down by the river.” The nearest police station was several blocks away. When Tom and Greeny walked in together, Tom smiled at the sergeant behind the desk. “I’m being a good citizen and returning a purse that my bloodhound here discovered on the street. I think he picked up on the scent of the chocolate bar inside.”

The sergeant smiled good-naturedly. “Does it have any other hidden treasures?” he asked as Tom handed it over.

“No, but if she’s offering a reward, I’d be happy to accept it.”

The sergeant dumped the contents on his desk. He picked up Joyce’s driver’s license, looked at the name, and grimaced.

“What’s the matter?” Tom asked.

“This girl was out last night with her friends at a club. It seems she disappeared into thin air.”

“Oh, my God,” Tom said quietly.

“Where did you find this?”

“On Jane Street. One block from the river.”

“This doesn’t bode well,” the sergeant said quietly. He took all of Tom’s information for the police report.

When Tom went back outside, he couldn’t stop thinking about Joyce from Queens.