The Stiff and the Dead (30 page)

Beige, black and deep burgundy beads of different sizes flew into the air, snowing down on Nick and me—one slamming Nick in the eye.

“Oh, my God!” I yelled amid the raining beads. “Are you all right?” I leaned close to see his eye. It wasn't even red. Thank goodness.

Nick looked at me. “Fine. I'm fine.”

We looked around the black, beige and burgundy bead-covered bed. No way could we be comfortable on it.

“I'm so sorry. Sorry you got smacked in the eye and definitely sorry that our ‘moment' was interrupted.”

And it was. No going back.

Nick took my hand and kissed it.

Then, he looked at me and we started laughing.

It shouldn't have been so humorous, but it was either that, or I'd die of embarrassment in Nick's bed amid the damn beads.

How would that look in the newspapers?

Middle-aged,
single
insurance fraud investigator dies of embarrassment with the one man who had taken her to bed in months.

“I'm so . . . so sooooorry,” I tried to say amid laughs.

He kissed me quickly and picked a black bead from my hair. “Guess it wasn't meant to be.”

My heart sank.

He leaned near. “For tonight.”

Ah. Sounded much less permanent.

After we dressed, Nick got a plastic baggie for the beads. He said he'd have them restrung. I argued politely enough that I should get that done, but he insisted. I sighed with relief since I didn't need any more bills. Goldie wouldn't have let me pay for it anyway, but on principle, it was nice having Nick offer.

It was nice having Nick, period.

He took me home and kissed me at the door.

“I'll call you tomorrow.”

And, again, I knew he would. There was nothing worse than a guy who said he'd call and never did. Women could usually tell when that line was fake. With Nick it wasn't.

I turned to watch him go and noticed my car parked in the rear of the lot. Not my space, but at least Jagger had kept his promise to have it returned. Too tired to move it, I decided I'd rather risk getting a nasty note from the neighbor in 10B, whose space it was in.

Goldie and Miles were asleep on the couch when I opened the door. I smiled and shook my head. Would my mother be waiting up for me if I moved back home?

“Oh, shit,” I mumbled.

Miles opened an eye. He tugged at Goldie. “She's home.”

“Who . . . Suga!” He sat up, rubbing at his eyes. “So, tell us.”

I looked at Miles in his black silk pj's and Goldie in the blue peignoir, looking striking this time. He hadn't removed his makeup or wig for the night yet. I hoped I looked that good to Nick, pre bead explosion.

Goldie leaned closer. “My necklace.”

I hurried over to him and gave both of them a hug. “Oh, Gold. I'm so sorry. It's got to be fixed.”

He looked surprised and a bit upset, but said, “No problem. My friend Jerry is a jeweler.”

“It popped and the beads fell all over. Nick is having it restrung.”

“Oh. Oh?” Goldie winked at Miles. “That's great, Suga. No problem with the necklace. I'm surprised it broke, though. It was quite expensive and imported from Johannesburg.”

I looked at my finger. A red ring from where the necklace had been wrapped glared at me. “It didn't break easily.”

“Enough with beads,” Miles said. “How was your date?”

“I like Nick. It was fine.”

They yelled, “Fine?”

Goldie leaned near. “I'm hoping the broken beads at least had something to do with . . . you know.”

Miles slapped his arm.

I laughed. “Okay. It was wonderful. A wonderful date. Nick is wonderful. I
really
like him.”

They high-fived each other and laughed.

“Look, you guys don't have to wait up for me like this. I feel as if I'm imposing on your lives.”

They screeched in horror.

Miles took me by the arm. “You belong here. We want you here.”

Goldie joined in with, “You're like a sister to us, Suga.”

“A sister?” I asked.

They laughed. “Okay, we mother hens need someone to watch over, and we want it to be you,” Miles said.

“I feel as if I was just born. A bouncing six-pound baby girl.”

Knowing my true birth weight, Miles eyed me.

“Hey, it's
my
fantasy.”

We all howled, hugged and kissed.

Goldie said, “Now get some sleep, Suga. You have work tomorrow and need to be fully recovered.”

I shook my head. “Yes, Mom.”

On my way to my room, I heard them giggling and knew none of us was ready for me to move out yet.

Last night I had slept the best I had in months. I credited it to Nick and smiled as I drove into the parking lot of the clinic. Okay, the fact that I didn't have to move back to 171 David Drive could have added to my slumber.

Then my heart sank, knowing I had to keep working in nursing. I had vowed twice now not to get back into this profession, but Jagger had other plans for me.

This was the last time for sure.

When I opened my door and got out, I looked around for Hildy's new Mustang. Only a white one sat on the far side of the lot, and I knew that belonged to a guy in the clinic. Hildy had to be back at work today, I told myself.

I really needed to know how she got that car.

I hurried inside and stuck my belongings in my locker in the nurse's lounge. One of the other nurses came in. “Hi.”

“Hello, Pauline. Light morning today,” she said, sticking her purse in her locker.

Good. I had to get in contact with Jagger then, and see what I could find out about Hildy. When the nurse left, I took out my cell phone and punched in #1.

“Leave a message.”

“Oh, hi, Jagger,” I started to say, then realized it was his voice mail. Hmm. Why wouldn't he answer his phone? What if I needed help?

Knowing him, he'd be there.

I shrugged, said I needed to talk to him and went out to work. My first patient, Freddy Wentwhistle, a young guy with red hair, glasses and a mustache, had come in for a pain in his knee.

Gotcha, Jagger!

When I showed him into the examining room, I shut the door. “Look. We need to talk. Why didn't you answer your phone?”

“Talk?” Freddy looked a bit scared. “You called me, ma'am?”

“Stop pretending. No one can hear us. Hildy has a new car.”

Freddy stood and hobbled toward the door. “Oh. That's nice for . . . Hildy.” His voice trembled.

“Oh, my.” I stepped back so he wouldn't bolt on me with his bum knee. “Aren't you Freddy Wentwhistle from Manchester?” I'd quickly looked at his chart to see he was from Hartford.

“No . . . no.”

“I'm so sorry. I was mistaken. Please sit back down, Freddy, so I can take your blood pressure.” Which must be sky high after thinking I was nuts.

The rest of the morning I was more cautious of accusing other patients of being Jagger, although a Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones looked very suspicious.

Jagger never did show up.

That I knew of.

At lunchtime, I hurried over to the pharmacy.

Kathy was sitting at Hildy's desk writing on file cards.

“Oh, hey, Kath.”

She didn't look up. “Hi, Pauline.”

Lois was at the counter with a patient and gave me a suspicious look. She seemed not to like me, although we really hadn't met. Then again, everyone here was on edge after Leo's death, the police investigation and being overworked.

I ignored her and said, “Can Hildy go to lunch now?”

Kathy looked up. “Why the hell do you think I'm sitting here?”

“Hildy still out sick?”

“The bitch quit.”

I know Kathy continued complaining because her lips were moving, but my mind was reeling on its own. She quit! How could Hildy leave a job she claimed to need so much? Oh, shit. This really looked bad for her.

Hildy had something to do with the fraud—and Leo's death.

I knew it.

And where the hell was Jagger?

After I'd left the pharmacy with a giant knot in my stomach, I realized I better try to eat something since I had a half day to go. I needed some fresh air, so I decided to walk across the street to the diner Goldie and I had gone to before.

I opened the door to the fragrance of grease and the humming of a crowded room. Smoke wafted through the air, since only half of the diner was smoke-free. I stood next to the “Please wait to be seated” sign, looking around the room. None of the other staff was here today so I'd have to eat alone.

The hostess came up to me. “One?”

I nodded.

She took a menu and guided me to a booth at the end of the room. “This is all I have, unless you want to sit at the counter.”

“This is fine.” I sat down and took the menu from her. Still upset about Hildy, I looked for something that'd be digestible with a knotted stomach.

A shadow crossed over my menu.

I looked up.

Jagger, dressed as plain, regular, gorgeous Jagger, stood there. “Hildy left town.”

As he sat, my mouth dried and my heart jolted. I'd have to stick with soup for lunch now. “What do you mean?” I asked stupidly. Jagger spoke perfect English, and I'd “gotten” that Hildy had run away.

He waved to the waitress. “Coffee.” He looked at me.

“Arsenic.” With the news of Hildy, I needed arsenic.

Jagger shook his head. Only once, thank goodness. “And a cola for her.”

“What do you . . . how do you know about Hildy?”

Jagger had bent his head to look at the menu and only shifted his eyes upward to speak volumes to me.

“Okay,” I said as the waitress set down my cola. I looked at her. “New England clam chowder.”

“That it?”

I nodded.

She rolled her eyes as if soup wouldn't garnish her a very big tip. Keep rolling your eyes, lady, and there'll be
no
tip.

She gave Jagger his coffee.

“Tuna on whole wheat. No tomatoes,” Jagger said.

She gave him a colossal smile and bent to get his menu while sticking her boobs in his face.

I curled my lip.

When the waitress left, Jagger looked at me. “Anyway. She's gone. Moved out. Her landlord said she left everything except her clothes—and an envelop of cash to pay the rent and utilities to date.”

“Oh, shit. She also drove away in a brand-new Mustang. A hot red one.”

“Mustang?”

“I saw her Saturday and followed her.”

“Jesus, Sherlock. Did she see you?”

“Of course not. I was Pe—” Yikes! I almost blew my cover! Even if it was Jagger, him knowing about Peggy was on my no-no list. Even though Peggy wouldn't surface again, I wanted to keep at least one thing from Jagger. I know he'd seen me as half-Peggy when he popped up in my backseat, but he hadn't questioned me then, which meant I had to live with him thinking I wore polyester and comfortable shoes.

Felt good to know he didn't know
everything
about me.

A picture of Nick and the beads flashed before my eyes. Surely Jagger didn't know about . . . naw. I was thinking stupid thoughts because I was so upset about Hildy. “This doesn't look good for her. Huh?”

Jagger took a sip of coffee. Good enough answer for me.

“Damn it. I really liked her. She was so poor and in need of a friend. I thought I could help her.”

Again he looked over the mug.

“Okay. Okay. Don't get involved. Don't get emotional. But in my heart I still think she's innocent.”

Jagger set down his mug. “Is your heart always right?”

I thought of my ex. The now incarcerated criminal boyfriend. “It has its moments.”

“Look, Sherlock. You have to give up your nursing help-everyone mentality to do this job. You're not trying to help. You're trying to convict, uncover fraud.”

The waitress came over and set Jagger's tuna sandwich down. “Anything else, big boy?”

I groaned.

“Not for now, doll.” He winked.

I cleared my throat after looking at her empty hands. “My soup?”

“Soup?”

“New England clam chowder. You wrote it down.” I stupidly pointed to her apron where she kept her order book.

She never looked down, but stared at Jagger.

“Oh, yeah. Chowda. Be out soon.” After a wink back at “big boy,” she left and after a prolonged amount of time brought me a now cool soup.

I didn't have time to send it back, so I ate it, telling myself it was piping hot. I wished I could tell myself not to care so much about Hildy, like I'd convinced myself that the soup didn't taste all that bad. I finished it and looked at my watch. “I have to get back to work.”

“Meet me at the backdoor when the clinic closes.”

I didn't have time to argue, but I'd been thinking all day about Nick calling me. I had been really looking forward to seeing him and also not having to go to Bingo tonight. But the case had to get settled soon.

And I had to find out about Hildy.

I saluted Jagger with two fingers like in my old Girl Scout days and left.

All the way through the crowd, until I got to the door, I felt him staring at me—but didn't dare turn around.