A Dose of Murder

by Lori Avocato

  I looked at the dessert section. Nothing interesting. I asked the woman behind the counter, “Do you have anything in chocolate?”

  “Like what? Cake? Cookie?”

  “Anything. Anything chocolate.” When she went into the back and came out with a brownie, I wanted to leap over the counter and hug the darling. Instead, I thanked her profusely, despite her look of confusion, and hurried to pay. I didn’t have time to sit and eat, so I stuck the brownie in my pocket—thank goodness it had plastic wrap on it—opened the sandwich and ate as I walked down the stairs. Then I opened the chocolate brownie and salivated.

  When I hurried across the waiting room, already full of patients, Trudy looked up from her desk. “What’s the matter, Pauline?”

  “Watter?” I said with a mouthful of brownie.

  “Matter,” she clarified.

  I swallowed and walked behind the desk. “I’m fine. Nothing the matter. No problems for me.” Yikes. The nervous rambling was back.

  The phone rang, thank goodness, and Trudy turned to answer it. I took the opportunity to get the heck out of Dodge and away from her interrogating. Okay, to be fair to Trudy, she was only asking out of concern and it was weird that I’d been eating my lunch on the run.

  I rushed into the lounge to rinse out my mouth before I smiled at a patient only to discover I had a black brownie-covered tooth. When I bent over the sink, I felt someone come up from behind. I wiped my mouth with a paper towel and thought I’d kill Jagger if it was him again.

  I turned around and jumped. “Oh!”

  Linda stood inches away.

  Oh no! Did she discover her charts had been tampered with? “Hey, how’s it going?”

  “It’s going fine with me, Pauline, but I’m wondering about you.”

  “Me? I’m … peachy.”

  “Then why aren’t you out there working? You’re the only nurse here today. Remember? The patients aren’t going to show themselves into the examining rooms.”

  Damn. “I know. It’s just … sorry.”

  Her look, one that reminded me of my mother hollering at us kids, softened. “No. I’m the one who is sorry. I’ll bet you’re just flustered over Eddy.”

  I almost said why would I be, but quickly realized what she meant and decided to use it to my benefit. “Eddy. Poor Eddy. We went to school together. I can’t get him out of my mind.”

  She touched my arm. I noticed a beautiful ruby ring on her finger. The doctors must pay her pretty well, I thought, since she was a single parent and sole supporter of her family. Then again, I wasn’t being fair. Maybe she had a boyfriend and he’d given it to her.

  Or Linda did more than just move files around.

  One thing I noticed since becoming a medical-insurance-fraud investigator was that my imagination had taken on a life of its own. Problem was, I had a hard time deciding what was fact and what was my mind going out of whack.

  I threw my paper towel toward the trash. It hit the floor. I bent, then looked at her. “Always bend those knees.”

  She glared at me.

  “Bad knees are a bummer. Ever have trouble with yours?” The file in Donnie’s desk was for a knee injury on Linda.

  “My knees are fine.”

  “Have they always been?”

  “Yes, Pauline. Why the sudden interest in my knees?”

  “I … er … I thought Eddy had said you were out on Workers’ Comp with a knee injury.” Forgive me, Eddy, but I had to use you since you are no longer around to corroborate my lies.

  She shook her head. “Must have been someone else he was talking about.”

  That meant Donnie and Tina filed claims on Linda—without her knowledge. I whispered, “Yes!”

  “You’re acting odd, Pauline.”

  Oops. No comeback for that, so I said, “Good. Good knees. Good for you. Always bend. Helps the back too. Excuse me, Linda.”

  She moved aside as if she couldn’t wait until I left. As well she should with my behavior, so I bustled off to the waiting room. I peeked over my shoulder to see her standing there, arms folded over her chest—watching.

  Again, reminded me of Mom.

  The rest of the afternoon was a blur. Being by myself I had to concentrate on nursing and not really do a darn thing about fraud investigating. Toward the end of the day a guy came limping in dressed in a black suit, sporting a long beard and dark glasses. He had a Seeing Eye dog with him.

  I stared at him for a few seconds, then mentally slapped myself upside the head.

  Jagger!

  I held his chart, which said Mr. Mario Pinellas, (yeah, right) in my hand and leaned over. “Gotcha this time, Jagger.”

  The dog growled.

  The man leaned his head toward my voice and said, “Excusa?”

  The accent was real.

  The voice was higher than Jagger’s.

  And there was no shiner.

  I swallowed, did an express novena that the dog wouldn’t chew my leg off and said, “I’m sorry, sir. Please come this way, Mr. Pinellas.”

  I needed to get out of here.

  After Mr. Pinellas was safely in the examining room, where I made sure he wouldn’t fall off the table, I shoved the red clip over to signal Dr. Levy that his patient was in the room and hurried to the lounge. I promptly ran into Linda again.

  “Something wrong?” she asked, standing there with a stack of charts in her hands.

  I tried to see if they were the YMCA boys’ ones, but couldn’t. “I’m just beat.”

  “Oh. Good news. I hired a replacement for Eddy. She’ll start Monday. You’ll train her.”

  “Me? I’ve only been here a few days myself.”

  “Tina’s coming in to help.”

  Yes! I hope she has to pick up a ton of stuff. “Tina? Great. She’ll be a big help. I only hope that her back is all right.” Linda’s eyes darkened.

  Hmm. Maybe she suspected Tina was a fraud too. Interesting. “Do you have a piece of scrap paper, Linda?”

  She walked to her desk and handed me a yellow Post-it on which I wrote, “beeper.”

  Linda looked over my shoulder, but I didn’t care. She’d never know what I meant, and by her look she was getting perturbed with my weirdness and more than likely wanted this week to end faster than I did.

  On the way home, I decided to check in with Goldie. I needed some friendship after the day I’d had, and I knew Miles would still be at work. I also needed to vent about how I’d forgotten to take the file pictures, and how Jagger had known.

  “Chéri? How’s it going?” Adele sat behind the reception desk, filing her nails. Not as long as Goldie’s, hers were a bright pink to go with the even brighter pink silk blouse she wore with the top four buttons undone. I couldn’t look at her cleavage since I knew it’d make me green with envy. Her legs, covered in sparkling black nylon, were crossed and she had on black patent-leather heels.

  “Hey, Adele. Not so good today.”

  “Heard about Eddy. Too bad.”

  Did everyone know Eddy Roden? I didn’t ask how she did, but figured that the tight-knit community of insurance people in Hope Valley had some underground-type communication system going. Goldie had told me about it, but I never realized the extent until now.

  I nodded. “How sad.”

  She filed the last nail and set the emery board down. “Fabio’s been looking for you. I left you a few messages on your machine at home.” She motioned toward his office with her head, causing her curls to bounce. “You can beat it if you want. Adele didn’t see you.”

  I smiled. “Thanks for that, but I’ll go talk to him.” What I’d say was another matter. Adele said Goldie was in his office if I needed him after talking to Fabio, and I walked down the hall.

  At Fabio’s door, I paused.

  The thought of running out to my car became a real possibility as I heard music, I think it was Perry Como’s rendition of “When the Moon Hits Your Eye Like a Big Pizza Pie” and told myself that couldn’t be the name of the song w
hile I also told myself I could do this. I could face Fabio and talk him out of firing me.

  I knocked and peeked in when he said, “Yo.”

  “Fabio?” I hesitated at the door.

  He’d been clipping his fingernails onto a piece of newspaper, and I wondered if today was manicure day at Scarpello and Tonelli Insurance Company. I only hoped he didn’t do his toes.

  He kept clipping. “What?”

  “I … Adele said you wanted to see me.”

  “Who are you?”

  If you’d look up you’d see, you dumb shit. “Pauline.”

  Slowly he set the clippers onto the pile of papers on the desk. He beat Lieutenant Shatley in the messiest desk department. Fabio gave a low growl and glared at me. “Well, Ms. Pauline Sokol. How nice of you to grace us with your presence here.”

  “Look, Fabio—”

  “No, you look, Sokol,” his voice kept getting louder until I considered it a shout. “I’m not paying you to fuck around at who knows what. No tape yet, and I need my money back soon. I have bills to fucking pay.” He leaned forward for a closer look. “Why the hell are you dressed like that anyway?”

  “I—” Oh no! I couldn’t fabricate any lie, and found it hard to ask Saint Theresa to help with things like that.

  “She’s hanging out at Macaluso’s office building to do her surveillance, you jerk,” said Goldie coming up behind and putting his arm around my shoulder. He turned toward me. “Brilliant plan you came up with, suga.” Then he winked a long, black fake eyelash at me.

  I smiled and mouthed, “thanks,” but worried either one would find out how close to the truth Goldie had just come.

  Fabio waved at both of us. “Get your asses out of here and go do work.”

  We turned to go. Goldie still held onto me.

  “Oh, Sokol, you got one week left on your probation. No proof on Macaluso and you can kiss your career adios.”

  Goldie’s nails dug into my shoulder, but I stifled my “ouch” knowing it wasn’t meant for me.

  Outside the door he mumbled, “Cocksucking asshole.” Then he gave me a tight squeeze and let go. “Excuse my French, suga. That guy gets under my craw.”

  I smiled. “Thanks for saving me in there.”

  “I need a drink and you look as if you could use two of ’em yourself.”

  We headed into his office, where he insisted I have a Hurricane in a tall, curved glass that he’d gotten at a bar called Pat O’Brien’s in New Orleans. They were famous for their Hurricanes, a fruity punch-type drink with dark rum. Goldie used a pouch of the mix and his blender. He poured two drinks and handed me one.

  “Thanks. You have the most well-equipped office I’ve ever seen.”

  He laughed. “You ain’t shittin, suga.” Goldie sunk into the zebra couch. In his banana yellow tights and long matching sweater, he looked very “jungle.” Tiny orb-like lemons hung from his ears and his lipstick was a California orange much like Doc Levy’s car. I forgot to show Jagger the list of doctors’ cars, I thought, as Goldie stretched himself out like a cat. His shoes were black spike heels today.

  My feet, nestled in their white clogs, hurt just looking at them. I sat across from Goldie and sipped on the Hurricane he’d handed me, and told him about the files and Jagger. Goldie was appropriately sympathetic and said that maybe Fabio would give me a bonus for the extra info I’d found. Then we both mouthed, “Yeah, sure.” I smiled at him and held up my glass. “I’m going to get looped on this, you know.”

  He grinned. “Don’t get wiped out before our double date tonight.”

  Ack! I’d forgotten about those plans. And here I was planning a nice hot bath, a small meal, after the croissant and brownie, and subsequent nap until it was time for bed. “I’m so beat. Maybe we could make it another day—”

  “Oh no, you don’t. I want to see about the Jagger thing.”

  By “thing” I guessed he meant our relationship. Come to think of it, I had no way to get in touch with Jagger to cancel if I wanted to. I figured, no, I knew he’d just show up when it was time tonight.

  I took a longer sip than I should have and coughed. Goldie jumped up. “Put your hands in the air, suga.”

  I did, having recently used that trick on Linda.

  He sat back down and took a sip of his drink. “I have a bad feeling about this, suga. And I don’t mind tellin’ you.”

  What’s to have feelings about? I thought. There is no thing. “I’m a big girl, Goldie. I can take care of myself.”

  “Taking care is not what I’m worried about. I told you Jagger would never hurt you.” He finished his drink, ran an orange nail across his lip to catch the last droplet and said, “It’s that heart of yours. I’ve seen you look at him, suga. I’ve seen you look at him, but he doesn’t look back.”

  That hurt, although I knew Goldie didn’t mean for it to. He was partly right; but what I silently disagreed with was Jagger not looking back.

  No one on this earth could read Jagger’s looks.

  So, Goldie could be totally wrong—and it may not all be one sided.

  What was I thinking!

  There was no side to this conversation because Goldie was wrong on both counts. Jagger had the appeal of a sexy, out-of-reach movie star, but I wasn’t delusional enough to think I’d appeal to him.

  Still, I’d enjoy those daydreams.

  But keep my wits about me.

  And consequently my heart.

  Nineteen

  I told myself that Goldie was wrong. The thought wouldn’t leave my brain, so I decided to do some work. Investigating, before Fabio fired me. Surely work would keep me preoccupied even though I’d spent all day at the office. I couldn’t relax now anyway since soon I’d be on the “date.” Not having any idea where Tina was and not wanting to fish around town for her, I went to the medical office.

  Had to get pictures of Donnie’s files.

  After sneaking in and avoiding two janitors, I made it into the practice. One had left the front door open, which fit right into my hopes. If it had been locked, I was sunk. Never would I have the “Jagger” skills for breaking and entering. No one was in the reception area, so I slowly walked to the door leading into the hallway where the examining rooms were.

  I turned the knob and held my breath.

  Silence.

  Thank you, Saint Theresa. I knew she was helping me, along with a few guardian angels. Had to be, or I might have suffered Eddy’s fate by now. I walked into the hallway and waited. Again, no sound except the clicking of the stupid clock over the nurses’ station. Some drug company had given it to the clinic. The hands were syringes and the numbers little pills. It was half-past a Percodan, so I had to hurry. There was that “date” thing tonight.

  I looked down the hallway. All the doors were closed, including the ones to the docs’ offices. If someone had been in here, surely their door would be open. I listened and wished I had my mother’s nose for sniffing. Could come in handy sniffing around for other humans.

  I gingerly walked down the hallway toward Donnie’s office. At the door I waited, put my ear against the wood and listened. Good. Nothing again. I turned the knob and opened the door to darkness and flipped on the light. My beeper/camera didn’t do infrared film, and I couldn’t afford that right now.

  I hurried to the desk, found the key on the back of the picture and whispered, “Thanks, Tina.” After I opened the drawer and took out the files, which, thank goodness, had not been disturbed, I started clicking away. My heart beat faster as I accomplished my job. Felt damn good to do it—all alone.

  After I had plenty of shots and everything back in order, I flipped the light switch and pulled the door, moving the handle very slowly so as not to make any squeaks. I got out the door and looked down the hallway. No one.

  Then the floor creaked.

  I looked down to see if I’d stepped on a loose spot in the floor. I felt frozen to the spot. I forced myself to shift my feet as if they weighed a hundred pounds each and
turned. I couldn’t go out the way I’d come in. The way of the creaking floor. So, I decided to head around toward the X-ray room. There was an emergency exit at the end—and I considered this an emergency.

  Footsteps clicked along the hallway. Janitors probably wore sneakers or rubber-soled shoes, which wouldn’t make that sound. I got near the room and saw the sign.

  EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY. ALARM WILL SOUND.

  I needed the exit, but not the alarm.

  I turned quickly and headed back toward the lounge. Maybe I could sneak in there and get out the other way. I heard a breath—and it wasn’t mine, since my breaths were stalled in my trachea. I swung into the first office I could find.

  The streetlight lit the darkness enough to see I was back in—Donnie’s office! Damn these hallways for being a circle.

  I held onto the doorknob to make a speedy exit when the time was right.

  The doorknob turned.

  I gasped.

  “What the fuck are you doing, Pauline?”

  I froze.

  The door swung open.

  If I thought my heart had sped up before, it was pounding so loudly now I could hear it.

  And probably Donnie could too.

  After yanking my thoughts from fear to sanity, I said, “Oh, hey, Don. How you doing?”

  “It’s always been Donnie, Pauline, and the question is what the fuck are you doing?”

  Good question.

  I looked past Donnie in hopes that Jagger would be there to save me. No one. Not even a real janitor was in the office hallway right now. I needed a lie. A good one. One that would prevent Donnie from suspecting me of being an investigator.

  “Geez, Donnie. You caught me.” I stepped out of his office and started to go.

  He grabbed my arm. “I know I caught you, but what the hell at?”

  Suddenly a janitor (obviously sent from up above) came around the corner. I said the fastest thank-you prayer on record. “Okay. See you later, Donnie.” I tried to pull away.

  “You didn’t answer my question, and I’m not letting go until you do.”

  Damn. Then, I looked at the janitor. Blonde. Built. Blue eyes. Yes! I waved to him and smiled.

  Donnie looked over his shoulder.

  The janitor looked at me as if I were nuts.