The Stiff and the Dead (17 page)

“Miss Sokol, we are going to have to let you go if you repeatedly can't get back to work on time,” old Dr. Handy said.

I felt as if my father were reprimanding me.

I wanted to tell him he couldn't fire me because I needed to use this job to fight crime, but instead said, “I am so sorry, Doctor. It won't happen again. I have over thirteen years of impeccable attendance in my nursing jobs. It's just . . . my life isn't what it used to be.”

He nodded and said, “One last chance.”

I reached out my hand and shook his. “I appreciate that, sir. Thanks.”

I behaved and finished my last shift without incident. When I had to go to the pharmacy, I made it in record time, figuring I'd have to find another way to do my investigating. One that wouldn't get me fired.

At the close of the shift, I apologized to the other nurses who'd taken up the slack earlier when I got back late and ignored their “yeah, right” looks. I really had been sincere.

On the way out, I noticed Sophie walking into the clinic with Joey the Wooer. They chatted on. I followed several steps behind. Geez, I hoped when I got old I could spend my time somewhere else besides a clinic or pharmacy.

Of course, good old Sophie was probably making a profit as she walked.

She headed to the counter and waved to Leo, who motioned for her to sit down. I noticed Hildy didn't even ask if she could help her. Odd. Joey started looking around at the over-the-counter medication section.

The poor guy. Must have a little pharmacy of his own at home. If he was anything like my Uncle Walt, Joey probably went to the doctor at the drop of a hat. My dad, however, had to be bound and gagged just to get him in for his yearly flu shot.

I reached into my pocket and put on my glasses. Then I headed over to the side of the counter, still sneaking lots of filmed peeks at Sophie.

Hildy was bent over her work at the counter. “Can I help you?”

“It's me, Hildy.” She hadn't even looked up, the poor thing.

“Oh, hey. I'm sorry. Busy day today.”

“I have a few minutes. Want me to help file or something?”
Please say yes.

“I hate to keep asking you to do my work.”

“I'm the one who offered, as long as Leo doesn't mind. Does he?” I held my breath.

She shrugged. “He said since you work for the clinic it's about the same thing and as long as he doesn't have to pay you . . . cheap bastard.”

That as twice in one day someone called Leo that name.

Interesting.

“Buzz me in.” I opened the door and went in while Sophie waited at the far end of the counter. Hildy nodded toward the bins full of white bags. “No problem,” I said.

She looked at me oddly. “Your astigmatism acting up?”

I nodded.

“Don't worry about the prescriptions,” I said, trying to get her mind off my glasses. “I'll get them done in a jiffy.”

Hildy looked at me as if she had no idea what a “jiffy” was. My age was showing. I ignored the fact of my imminent birthday and started to file the bags into the bins. I kept looking for letters in the last part of the alphabet so that I could get closer to Sophie and Leo. Every so often I lucked out. While I filed Mr. and Mrs. Hollander's diuretics, I got close enough for a great shot.

Leo leaned near Sophie. “Freaking Billy only bought three today.”

Sophie growled.

I pulled back slightly.

Sophie reached into her bag and took out a medicine bottle. There was a small coffee stain on the left side. Mr. Wisnowski's prescription! She handed it to Leo. He took it, opened it and after looking around (and me nearly ducking into the bin), he poured out a few Viagra into his pocket.

What the hell?

Click. Click.

I was on a roll here.

Then Sophie took out the list she'd had the other day. “Here's one more. There's a new broad that hangs with us now, but I couldn't get hers.”

I nearly jumped at her. She
was
trying to steal Peggy's insurance number! I made sure to get this all on film.

The female pharmacist with the black hair came near.

Sophie and Leo shut up, and he went back to work.

Sophie bounded out as gracefully as she could.

I noticed Joey heading out after her. Geez. I hoped he wasn't using the Viagra with . . .

Eeyeuuw.

Hildy dropped into her chair, looking totally wiped out.

“All finished, Hild.” I came up and sat on the edge of her desk.

Leo came up next to me.

Yikes. I gave a nice smile and became a statue.

“Lock up the desk area. I did the back already.”

He never even acknowledged me. So much for working for him for free. Bastard.

Three strikes and you're out, buddy.

Hildy sighed and watched him leave. “Go kiss your mama's big butt, you shit.”

Mama?

I looked around to see the waiting area empty. What would Leo's mother look like anyway? A pencil of a woman, long and skinny like a beaker?

“Does Leo live with his mother?” Please give me something to go on, I prayed.

“Nope. But he might as well. She's in here nearly every damn day.”

“Ha. I noticed that about some customers. Like that Sophie woman.”

Hildy looked at me with eyes as tired as my feet felt. “That's the big butt he should be kissing.”

I sat in my car—in shock.

Leo was Sophie's
son.
No, Sophie was Leo's mother. Well, after my teeth nearly fell out, I'd gotten it straight from Hildy: Sophie was Leo's
stepmother,
making Mr. W his step uncle.

Sophie'd raised him since he was thirteen, so that was just as good. I couldn't wait to tell Jagger. If he didn't already know, that is. Nick had called me earlier, and we were “on” for dinner. On. I smiled despite my earlier shock.

I wouldn't mind Jagger finding out about my plans for tonight.

Damn. How lame to keep thinking about him. I was pissed that my mind had a mind of its own.

A siren yanked my attention back to the present. As I watched the blue lights of two cop cars drive by the parking lot, I dug inside my purse and pulled out my cell phone. Once again I punched in #1. Had to. I needed to share this info with Jagger. The phone went into voice mail. Darn it all.

“It's me. You won't believe what I found out today. Leo Pasinski is actually—”

The passenger door flew open. Jagger jumped in.

“Drive.”

As if he had some kind of control over me (which, in fact, he did), I cranked the engine and drove toward the end of the driveway, where I had to slow to wait for traffic—and take a life-saving breath.

“What the hell are you doing?” I looked at him instead of the cars zooming by. “You scared me. Again!”

He was wearing his usual black jacket, jeans, and shirt, the wind had mussed his hair just the right amount. Where Nick was clean shaven, Jagger always had a shadow of a beard, as if his razor was set too high, like an adjustable lawnmower. But that five-o'clock shadow gave him a damn mysterious and sexy appearance.

One that took my breath away each and every time.

Damn it all.

“The question is what the hell were you doing?”

“I was trying to leave you a message to tell you—”

“Insurance Fraud 101, Sherlock. Don't discuss the case over the phone. Especially in public in the very parking lot of the building where suspects are under surveillance. Or leave voice mails. What if you called the wrong number?”

I felt like a neophyte. And well I should. Why didn't I think of these things? Mental note to myself, call Goldie. He has to be better now, and I needed him—so I could stop looking like a teenage Nancy Drew in front of Jagger.

All I could say was, “I'm sorry.”

Jagger nodded. “What's the news?”

A horn honked in back of me. “Should I go or let you out here?”

“Go.”

I pulled out of the parking lot. “Where to?”

“Anywhere until you've told me.”

Okay. So I got to ride around, inhaling rugged man until I told him my news. I felt tempted to drive like a New York cabbie and take him the longest route. But then I noticed the time on my car's radio. I had an hour to get ready before Nick picked me up.

“I can't take too long.”

“'Nother date?”

I figured he already knew, but his tone didn't sound like it. “Yes.”

“Then talk fast.”

No interest in my dating Nick. Damn. “Okay. I learned today that Leo Pasinski is Sophie Banko's stepson.”

“Goddammit.”

“Why? That's not a good thing to find out?”

“It would have been. Turn back and drop me off.”

Feeling as if he'd popped my balloon, I pulled into a Staples parking lot, turned in the other direction and headed back to the office parking lot. Since it had nearly emptied out, I could see Jagger's SUV sitting all by itself on the west side. I pulled up to it and shoved my heater on full blast. Once the sun went down in the early evening, the days grew much colder.

Jagger opened the door and stepped out, shutting it behind. I pushed the electric window opener with my finger. “Hey. Wait!”

He turned slightly.

I actually turned off the heater's fan to hear him better as the wind blew through the open window. “Hey, Jagger. No fair. What did you mean by ‘it would have been?' I mean, I think that's pretty helpful to know they are in cahoots. And related! What more could we ask for to help our cases?” Really getting pissed, I shut off the engine and shoved open my door.

As I stepped out, I asked, “Why are you so negative about everything?” I came around the fender.

He started walking to his car. “Go home and get ready for your date.” He looked in the direction of some cops who drove out from around the building.

Date? Damn, again I forgot poor Nick. “I have plenty of time.” I hoped he believed me, because that would mean he thought I didn't
need
much time to look sexy and beautiful. He didn't argue. Good. “Hey!”

He opened the driver's door of his SUV.

I hurried toward him. “I tell you a wonderful morsel like that and you say it's not a good thing. I've stumbled onto something here—” I looked around to see if anyone was in the parking lot. Empty. I still whispered, “—and Leo's connection to Sophie is enormous. What could be better?”

“If he were still
alive.
”

“Take a deep breath,” Jagger said, rather hushed. Or maybe rather annoyed.

I inhaled and let him fan me with a magazine he'd had in his SUV. I hadn't passed out again, but got a bit woozy at his tidbit of info.

Leo Pasinski was dead.

Damn. Murder was not covered in Insurance Fraud 101. This was two for two, and I didn't much like those scores.

“How? What happened? When?”

“A few minutes ago a janitor found him in the men's room.”

“Shot?”

Jagger just looked at me. “Why would you think someone shot him?”

“I . . . I don't. I don't know. Maybe déjà vu about me almost getting shot. How else would someone kill a sleazy pharmacist . . . Poison?”

“Well, the place is full of medication. Maybe someone gave him an overdose of something. Lieutenant Shatley's investigating it.”

“And he'll let you know? I saw the cop cars earlier, but had no idea that a possible murder had been committed.”

“Leo's death will be treated as a murder—until proven otherwise. Could be natural causes, but until the autopsy, any accidental, unattended or unexpected deaths are suspect.”

“Unattended. That means no one was around to see what happened.”

Jagger had a way of locking your glance to his. “When was the last time you saw Leo alive?”

I was still mesmerized and mumbled something even I didn't understand. Then it dawned on me. Jagger was questioning me!

My mouth dried instantly as if I'd been given a bottle full of antihistamines.

“You think
I
killed Leo?”

“Did you?”

“Whaaaaaaaat?”

“Sherlock, I hope the hell you have the sense not to kill off one of our suspects—even accidentally, but the police are going to question everyone—and I want to make sure you can stand up to it.”

Shit. There was that time I had blacked out when Jagger had stopped the elevator between floors to question me. Hey, I never sought therapy for that phobia because I never expected anyone to trap me in an elevator!

I pulled back. I should be honored that he cared, but his implication was that I'd fall to pieces when the bright lights hit me. Then again, I'd certainly been affected last night when he'd scared me, and when he told me about Leo, whoa, boy.

I pulled myself up straight and repeated in my head over and over that Polacks were strong as bulls. “I saw Leo a few minutes ago—”

“That'd be right about when he died. So you saw him being murdered? Possibly murdered?”

“Oh my God! Jagger, stop that. You are making me nuts, and confused. I can't think straight.”

“Well, you said a few minutes. Was it really that amount of time that you sat in the car? The cops aren't going to be as nice as I'm being.”

A traitorous tear formed in my eye. I hated almost crying in front of Jagger, but murder did that to me. I sucked it up and blinked a few times. Here I thought this case would be so different from the last one. But again, a person had lost his life.

I sniffled.

Jagger reached in back and pulled out a tissue. He took it and touched my cheek.

Oh . . . my . . . God.

I'd never be able to think clearly
now.

“Call Nick and cancel.”

Nick! Even Jagger remembered my date when I'd clean forgotten it. Well, when you were out of circulation for so long, dating doesn't come back like riding a bicycle.