A Dose of Murder

by Lori Avocato

  She gave me a curious look. “Unfortunately he plays the field.”

  “Afraid of commitment?”

  “No, chéri. Nick Caruso is not afraid of anything. He’s the second most masculine, sure-of-himself man I know.”

  He was attractive in that entrepreneur sort of way, but there weren’t any real sparks from my end. Sure the hormones acted up some, but he looked a bit too much like Vance. Albeit a bit more human—more real. Then it dawned on me what Adele had just said.

  “Shoot, Adele! Who the hell is the first?”

  She laughed, turned and said over her shoulder, “Nick’s nemesis.”

  “Nemesis?” Couldn’t wait to hear about this guy.

  But all Adele said was “Jagger.”

  I turned back to go into Goldie’s office, wondering what a “Jagger” was. I thought of asking about Jagger, but figured I shouldn’t bring him up in front of Nick since Adele had implied the two didn’t get along. Goldie, however, I would interrogate later.

  Goldie gathered up his equipment after giving me a technical tour along with Nick’s two cents. We walked out of the office. I followed them to the parking lot, watched Goldie stuff the equipment into the backseat of his banana yellow Camaro. Had to be from back in the sixties, but highly polished, and I knew by its condition that Goldie took care of it like a baby. Not what I’d expect for a surveillance vehicle, but then again, I was driving a Volvo.

  “Let’s head to Dunkin Donuts for a coffee,” Nick said.

  I turned toward him. “Sure.” That was all I managed, not knowing if I should get into my car or follow him.

  “Take your car, Pauline. I have some business to do around one.”

  That answered that question, I thought, as I slipped into my car and watched Nick get into a black-with-black-interior’98 993 Porsche. I knew this because Uncle Walt was a car buff, and I used to read his magazines when I lived at home or used my parents’ john.

  And here I thought all investigators used generic white vans. Showed how much I knew about surveillance—or anything in this business.

  On the bright side, Nick and Goldie had to be making a bundle to drive those kinds of cars. The Porsche, used, sold for around sixty grand.

  Knowing that made my day.

  I followed Nick’s Porsche along Maple to Oak to Olive Street and onto Main. He pulled into the parking lot of Dunkin Donuts and parked next to a patrol cruiser. I figured he thought his car would be safer next to a cop’s.

  I yanked my rearview mirror toward me and checked my makeup, hair and teeth. Good. No cannoli particles stuck between them. I only wished I’d worn something better than faded jeans and my Steelers parka. Here I was, contemplating my next outfit for tomorrow when it was only ten. Today when dressing, I’d thought I had to look as good as Goldie but soon gave up, and now I was thinking I’d have to look good so as not to embarrass myself in front of Nick or any other men I might meet in this new adventure.

  What a great job this was turning out to be.

  Nick had thrown a navy overcoat on, since December in Connecticut was nippy. No more snow today. The sun sparkled on the covered ground, making me glad Christmas was only three weeks away.

  Once inside, Nick ordered for both of us, but he asked me what I wanted first. Of course, he drank his coffee black, and he smiled at the extra cream and three sugars I used.

  “You should try it virgin,” he said.

  My mind got stuck on the “virgin” part. Sex was an issue I’d been trying to push to the back of my mind since I first saw him. And here he had to say the word virgin. Now it flooded my brain. I looked at him holding his coffee and realized he meant black. Drink it black. “Uck.”

  “You get to savor the taste, not mask it with all that cream and sugar.” He put his hand on my lower back to guide me to a table in the back.

  Be still my heart.

  Right now I could down a gallon of black coffee and not taste a thing. He held my chair and then sat across the table. “Maybe sometime I’ll try it. But I’ve been hooked on all the cream and sugar since I was a kid. My brothers and sisters and I used to sneak coffee at my grandmother’s. She got milk delivered to her house in glass bottles, no less. You were supposed to shake the bottle to mix the cream—”

  “From the top.”

  I looked at him. “Yeah.”

  He laughed. “I used to do that with my sister too.”

  “Small world.” The stupid cliché snuck out after my nervous rambling. “So, we stole the cream off the top and used it to make coffee the color of sand. Now, I’m so used to it—”

  “Be daring. You’ll need to be, with this job.”

  His tone had deepened. Grown serious. My heart sped up a bit, and it wasn’t from the caffeine. I looked at him, waiting for an explanation.

  “Goldie tells me you’re a nurse.” He took a long slow sip of his coffee.

  So much for an explanation. “Yes. I got burned out and needed a change.”

  He chuckled. A deep sound that vibrated from his chest. Nice. “This job will be a change for sure. But sometimes you might need to use your background.”

  “Use it?” I thought he meant knowing if someone was faking an injury.

  “Sure. Go undercover. There are plenty of nursing registries that handle filling-in staff. Doctor’s offices are sometimes under suspicion. You could get in there—”

  “I thought I was only going to spy on people at their houses!” My words came out in a horrified tone.

  Nick reached over, touched my hand. At least I think he did, since it instantly numbed. “In the future. Okay. This Macaluso case should be a good starter for you to get your feet wet. Very simple.”

  He went through more surveillance stuff, and when we got to the equipment part, I told him mine was on order and due any day because I’d paid for rush delivery. No sense in embarrassing myself with a confession about my ancient, gigantic video camera or the fact that I still had pictures from my cousin’s wedding in my camera, and she now had two kids.

  Goldie I could laugh with like one of the girls. Nick … Well , I refused to embarrass myself in front of him. Even if I’d told myself he wasn’t my type.

  “Got the file on Tina?”

  “Yes.” I foraged around in my bag, which had gotten bigger and heavier with the camera in it. The old video was stowed in my trunk, right where it belonged. I handed him the folder.

  He thumbed through it and mumbled something like “Christ.”

  I figured he wasn’t praying. “Something wrong?”

  “Macaluso’s husband is a partner in an orthopedic group.”

  “I know. I went to school with Tina.”

  He looked up. Took a sip of coffee, which emptied his cup. “Good. Let’s take a little trip.”

  “To her house?”

  “The office.”

  I stood when he did and followed him to the door. “Word on the street is, that practice is under suspicion.”

  “Medical malpractice?”

  “Medical insurance fraud.”

  Six

  One had to be astute to be a nurse. After all, people’s lives depended on a nurse noticing a change in their condition then calling the doctor. So, I prided myself on being astute.

  Nick Caruso knew something.

  Something about my case. About Tina Macaluso and her husband’s practice.

  I followed Nick to an office building on the corner of Dearborn and Fenway. We pulled into the parking lot. Doc Taylor’s car was in a reserved space. I really didn’t want to run into him. Still, maybe I should tell Nick that I knew someone who worked there. What I wouldn’t tell him is that I slept with that someone—on occasion.

  We got out and walked to the door. The building was much bigger than I’d expected. Red brick. About ten stories. Here I thought Vance would be working in a small building with only that one practice. By the sign in the lobby listing all the occupants, I realized it was a regular professional building and that the ortho group w
as only a small part.

  Nick looked at the list. “Come on. Let’s get a cup of coffee.”

  I thought I’d float back out to my car if I had another cup. Surely the man wasn’t thirsty. And, besides, I ruminated, I’d have to pee if I drank any more. I didn’t relish the idea of telling Nick I had to go to the little girls’ room. That was another thing that annoyed me about men and women. Men are like camels. Women are like leaky faucets.

  “You really want another cup of coffee?”

  He looked at me as if I were nuts. “Part of the job. Good diversion.” With that we got onto the elevator and he pushed the ninth-floor button.

  The door opened to a cafeteria that took up most of this level. Only a few employees were having an early lunch and several patients or clients of the legal groups in this building—I guessed since they had coats with them—were eating as well. Nick walked over to a table opposite a group of what appeared to be nurses, both male and female.

  Odd that he’d chosen that table, since the rest of the room was nearly empty. I sat anyway. “I’ll pass on that coffee.”

  “Get something to eat, then. Anything.” He motioned toward the lunch line. “Look as if you belong.”

  Duh. We couldn’t just sit here not eating or drinking. “I’ll get a salad. Can I get you something?”

  “Coffee, black.”

  I got up and walked to the line, certain Nick wasn’t watching me. He’d had an eye on the group of workers since we’d gotten there. No doubt he was eavesdropping.

  I took a tray, slid it along the metal bars of the line and picked out a small green salad. The chef salads looked good, but since I really wasn’t hungry, I didn’t need those calories. I’d be facing a few extra miles tonight if I ate when not hungry. I got Nick’s coffee and a water for myself. I could take my time eating the salad and sipping on the water for several hours if need be and not have to worry about added pounds.

  The guy in front of me at the cashier turned around.

  “Sokol? Hey, Pauline Sokol!”

  I looked up. “Eddy? Hi, Eddy.” Eddy Roden and I went to nursing school together along with Tina. I’d heard Eddy had shifted from job to job throughout the years. I knew he’d gotten fired from Saint Greg’s for calling in sick one too many times. He’d gotten thin, had grown one of those foolish clumps of hair below his lower lip, needed a tooth cleaning, and wore navy scrubs. Guess he’d gotten a job in this building.

  “You working here, Pauline?” He paid the cashier and stood there with his tray while I paid for mine.

  Ack. I hadn’t been ready with a lie. “I … er … no.”

  “What brings you here?”

  “A … a friend works here.”

  “Whereabouts?”

  Let it go, you jerk. I looked to see Nick watching me. He gave me a look that said to find out what I could. I reminded myself that I was on a case and if anyone who worked in this building knew something, I needed to question them. Now, I needed to turn the questions in Eddy’s direction and not mine.

  “Ortho group—”

  “No shit! That’s where I work.”

  My tray slipped. The cup of water flew off, splashing onto Eddy’s white sneakers.

  “Christ, Pauline! You’re still klutzy, I see.” He set his tray on a nearby counter.

  I grabbed a handful of napkins and shoved them at him. Klutzy? What nerve! Okay, I was a bit clumsy at times. I was working on it, though. “Sorry, Eddy.” As he wiped his shoes off, I asked, “How long have you been here?”

  “Couple months. Sucks.”

  Hmm. “Doesn’t Tina Macaluso work here? Didn’t we go to school—”

  “Fat, lazy-ass Tina’s old man is one of my bosses. Cocksucker.”

  A smile crossed my face. A disgruntled employee. First ones to sing. Maybe he could inadvertently help with my case. I couldn’t wait to tell Nick.

  “So, what you doing for a living now?”

  “I … left nursing for a rest”

  He glared at me.

  Damn. That trying-to-lie thing was back. “I’m working at a friend’s uncle’s place. Sorry about the shoes, Eddy,” I hurriedly added, before he could continue on about my job. “I’ll let you go, so your food doesn’t get cold.”

  “I’ve got a chef salad, Pauline.”

  “Oh, yeah. Well, enjoy!” With that I turned and hurried to get myself another glass of water.

  Back at the table I sat, slid Nick’s coffee toward him and opened the plastic wrap that covered my salad.

  “Who’s the guy?” Nick asked.

  I was ready to say he wasn’t my type, as if Nick were jealous. Then it dawned on me that I was working. It was still difficult to wrap my brain around the fact that I had flexible hours, traveled around town and could eat a salad at eleven twenty in the morning if I wanted to. Or, in today’s case, as part of my surveillance.

  I leaned closer to Nick. “Eddy Roden. I went to nursing school with him and Tina. Get this, Nick”—I looked around the room as if it were bugged—“Eddy works for Tina’s husband.” I took a sip of water.

  “No shit.”

  I nearly choked on my water. Swallowing quickly, I said, “You knew that?”

  “Knew she worked here. Thought we’d see if she was around and find out … whatever .” He shrugged. “You have to do your homework in this business, Pauline.”

  My heart thudded inside my chest. Nick looked at me. I think he heard it. “I thought I was only going to get some video or pictures of Tina—”

  “What better place than her husband’s office—where she also works? What’d the kid say?”

  I wasn’t going to mention that Eddy was my age, and Nick hadn’t referred to me as a kid. Okay, maybe I really didn’t want him thinking in juvenile terms with me. Woman was more like it. After all, I was a professional investigator—or at least I wanted Nick to believe that. I told him about my conversation with Eddy and how we’d gone to school together. Then my conscience kicked in. “I know someone else who works for that practice.” I took another little sip.

  Nick looked at me, took a sip of coffee all the while staring over his cup. “Doc Taylor?”

  I nearly choked. “How the hell …”

  He grinned.

  My nerves crackled.

  “I said I did my homework. Doc Taylor is new to the practice and about your age. I put two and two together—”

  “And concluded I’m sleeping with him?” Oh … my … God.

  The corner of Nick’s lip curled at the same time my internal temperature spiked to one hundred four. A few more degrees and I’d be peacefully dead so as not to have to face the embarrassment of what I’d just blurted out.

  “Actually, I put together that you might have worked with him at Saint Greg’s or something along nursing lines. Sex wasn’t my first thought.”

  That meant sex was one of his later thoughts.

  I shoved a mouthful of salad between my lips, nodded for no good reason and turned to look away.

  Speaking of sex …

  My mouth dropped open (this was becoming a bad habit). I forced myself to swallow, and couldn’t take my eyes off the doorway.

  Before the thought that Mr. Suburban had just waltzed in could materialize, I heard Nick mumble, “Shit.”

  I turned my gaze to him.

  He was glaring at Mr. Suburban and cursing under his breath.

  When my mental faculties returned, I asked, “You know him?”

  “Jagger.”

  “Oh my God!”

  “Shush!”

  I hadn’t meant for that to come out so loudly, or out loud at all. But Jagger? Adele’s Jagger? Of course, Pauline, I told myself. How many Jaggers could there be in this world? And didn’t the guy have a last name? Or was that his last, and he needed a first?

  What did it matter?

  He’d had time to get himself a Coke and bag of Wise potato chips while I had my mental meltdown. I looked back to Nick, who was watching every move Jagger made. “W
hat’s a Jagger?”

  Nick chuckled. “Good way to put it.”

  It was the only way I was capable of asking right at the moment. Jagger had on his black parka, sunglasses he’d shoved on top of his head to cover the dark hair, and I could swear he had a tan since the last time I saw him. Oh God! Had he seen me at Tina’s close enough to recognize me now?

  Something told me that Jagger was also astute when it came to women. Not being vain, I wondered if I’d made enough of an impression on him that he’d recognize me.

  Please, God.

  I looked back at Nick. Now, Nick was nice-looking, but Jagger was … damn it all, an instant orgasm. Had to do with him being good-looking in a more rustic, outdoorsy, dangerous kind of way. Where Nick dressed as if he’d stepped out of a Fortune 500 club (and reminded me too much of Vance, “stability” and Pauline Sokol’s old life), Jagger looked as if he’d stepped out of a forest with a giant buck in tow—still alive.

  Vance was boredom and solidity.

  Nick was class.

  Jagger was sex. Walking sex.

  I wiped a droplet of drool from my chin and smiled at Nick as best I could. He’d been staring at me as if he could read my mind. What a thought. I felt flushed. “So … how … you know him?”

  “Jagger and I go back to the military. Gulf War. We flew sorties in February of ninety-one”—he looked off into the distance as if he could see something I couldn’t—“Desert Storm. Air bombardment. Four hundred killed in an air-raid shelter in Baghdad. I took a desk job in Intelligence after that. Jagger separated soon after and became a PI. Seems investigative work fits ex-military pretty well. Never talked much after he left the service, and I don’t know if he still works for himself.”

  I could only stare. Wow. They’d both left what they must have loved because of the accidental loss of civilian lives. War casualties but no less hard to take. But why the rivalry?

  And what the heck was Jagger doing here?

  I finished my salad and sipped on my water to give Nick time to compose himself. Not that he looked all that flustered, but I hated dredging up a past that for him must not have been too pleasant. I envied that he’d done so much in his life while I’d lived in Hope Valley since birth, except when I’d attended college in Hartford.