by Lori Avocato
He already had the refrigerator door open. I should be upset that he made himself at home, as usual, but I wasn’t. Actually it was nice that he didn’t expect me to wait on him.
We heated up some leftover macaroni and cheese Miles had made. It was always wonderful ’cause he used extra Monterey Jack cheese, canned milk, and two whipped eggs in it to give it consistency. Jagger ate as if he was starving.
We’d switched to Coke for Jagger and water for me. No drink with the equivalent of ten teaspoonfuls of sugar was passing my lips tonight. All I needed was to add five pounds to my frame right in front of Jagger. I took a sip of water and watched him take a bite of macaroni. “So, what do you want to discuss?”
He swallowed and looked my way. “We need to wrap up this case.”
“We?”
“I need you to stay at the office at least another week.”
I choked on a noodle. My hands flew up in the air and Jagger sat watching. “Aren’t you going to do something to help me?”
“If you needed me to, I would. You’re still talking, so you’re not choking.”
If I needed him to, he would. I sat back and thought of that. I know Jagger meant right here and now, but I also got the impression he meant more. He meant he’d be there if I needed him in the case, too.
“I really can’t go back there.”
“They’ve bilked the insurance companies, mostly Global Carriers, out of an excess of three million dollars. Remember?”
“Oh my!” With two dead bodies and all, I’d actually forgotten that. “By just lying on patients’ records? Seems hard to believe.”
He finished his Coke, held up his glass. I nodded toward the refrigerator and said, “Help yourself.”
He did and as he sat back down, said, “They’ve been at it for some time. Years.”
I gasped.
“Stop being so surprised, Sherlock. If you want to make it in this business you’ve got to detach yourself. No emotions—”
“What about fear? Fear for my life.”
“Nothing is going to happen to you.”
Because he wouldn’t let it.
I should be peeing in my pants at the thought of two murders, but a calm had settled inside me, and it hadn’t come from the macaroni. “Wow. Years?”
He nodded. “If Eddy hadn’t sung, they’d be at it until they got caught. Some disgruntled employee, often on the take too, gets pissed. Maybe thinks they deserve more. I got that impression from Eddy. He wasn’t squealing out of the goodness of his heart. So, Eddy, in the mind of his cohorts, died because of a lack of loyalty.”
That made me feel a bit better, although I still felt sorry for Eddy and Linda. “What about Linda?”
Jagger finished his meal, got up and rinsed off his dish, which he set in the sink. I’d have to put them in the dishwasher before Miles came home tomorrow. Jagger turned, leaned against the sink and produced another toothpick, which he chewed down on.
“Did you ever smoke?”
He gave me an odd look. Quite a habit he’d picked up. “It’s not a substitute for smoking. Toothpicks help me think.”
No arguing against that kind of logic. “So, what about Linda? Why was she killed?”
He stayed put, chewing. “She did billing. Had to be involved in some way. Whether she was one of the ringleaders, your guess is as good as mine.”
Not the way my mind worked lately. I’d more than likely guess that Linda killed herself. I looked up. “Do you think Linda committed suicide? I mean, maybe she knew they’d find out and end up in prison. She didn’t strike me as someone who liked to follow orders.”
Jagger chewed and stared. “Gee, I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Really?” I was so excited. But when I saw a tiny twitch of his lip, I wondered if he were being honest with me. He wanted me to go back there, so maybe he was lying. Trying to get me psyched to do more investigating by thinking I knew something he didn’t.
Shit. My adrenaline surged. I really did want to help solve this case. “I don’t believe you for a minute, but … oh God, I can’t believe I’m about to say this—”
“You’ll be safe. You have my word.” With that, he walked out of the room.
I remained still, thinking how he was able to finish my sentences. I heard him talking and knew he was using his cell phone in the other room.
I’d agreed to go back to the ortho group.
I put my dishes in the sink with Jagger’s and thought I’d clean it up tomorrow. Physically and now emotionally drained, I needed some sleep.
But the thought of whether I would be able to sleep, with Jagger here, did cross my mind.
In the living room, I took out an extra blanket and pillow Miles kept in the closet for when he fell asleep watching TV. I fixed up the couch for Jagger, who was still talking on the phone. Trying not to eavesdrop, yet dying to hear what he said, I concluded he was talking to the police.
My suspicions were confirmed when he hung up, came into the living room and sat on the soft chair to take off his boots. “The cops will be around, under cover. No need to worry.”
“Easy for you to say.” I started up the stairs with Spanky fast on my heels. At the top I turned and looked over the railing. “I said I’d do it, but there is one stipulation… .”
“I’m not tellin you who I—”
“I’m past that.” No, I’m not, but I’ll drop it for now. “I want … need at least your cell phone number.”
“I said I’d be around when you need me.” He started to undo the buttons on his shirt.
Despite my exhaustion, I knew if I watched him strip off his shirt, sleep would elude me. “I know what you said, and I believe you’ll be around. But I want the added cushion of knowing I can call—”
“Five-five-five, six-eight-nine-one.”
The last thing I saw was the muscles, smooth, obviously firm, of his back before the light switched off, and I swung around so fast I tripped over Spanky, landing smack on the carpeted hallway.
In the darkness below, I swear I heard him shake his head.
“I’m fine,” I grumbled and went into my room.
Like my mother, I wasn’t the world’s best sleeper. Tossing and turning through sleepless nights was not a stranger to me. I lay in bed, thinking about how Jagger was on my couch.
I remembered seeing one fifteen on my digital clock, then two forty-five, then three and something close to three thirty, but by then my vision blurred, and I must have fallen asleep.
The sun heated my room. I could tell by the comforting feeling when I snuggled deeper into the recesses of my gigantic overstuffed down comforter. I reached out to pet Spanky’s little body as I always do. I ran my hand around where he usually nestled.
No dog. Slowly one eye opened, then the other. “Spanks?” Nothing. I sat bolt upright and almost flew out of the bed. Spanky might have had to go out and couldn’t hold it. One thing Miles didn’t care for was dog piddle on the white carpet, even though our little guy only went about five drops. Spanky had been housetrained for years, but maybe, I thought, the people food had upset his little tummy.
Then I smelled something and relaxed.
Thank goodness it was a pleasant, appetizing smell, making me rethink Spanky’s disappearance. I shut my eyes, bundled up more and inhaled.
Bacon.
I smelled bacon. Then I did in fact get up. Jagger was downstairs! And unless Miles had come home early, which I didn’t suspect since I thought he had another shift to do, Jagger was cooking.
A man after my own mother’s heart.
If she found out about that, I feared she’d start her matchmaking nonsense. As I was the only single child in our family, mother took to fixing me up every so often, until I put my foot down and started canceling the dates she made for me. That embarrassed her, so she stopped.
I stood up and looked out the window. The parking lot was a veritable sheet of ice, sparkling like some fairyland in the morning sun. I touched the windowpane.
Cool to the touch yet not real cold. The temperature must be above freezing. The ice would melt soon.
Then Jagger could leave.
I reached to grab my yellow-and-white-striped robe, then paused. What was I thinking? I couldn’t go downstairs in that. I had to shower and get dressed.
In the shower I kept, foolishly I might add, looking at the locked door as if I expected Jagger to come rushing in. I didn’t take the time to wash my hair, so I quickly used the green apple shower wash on the sponge and rinsed away the soap and my stupid thoughts. Why did I keep thinking he was after my bod? He’d never even made a pass at me—yet.
It had to be about my attraction, albeit out-of-whack attraction, to him. I laughed out loud. My attraction to him was as much a fantasy as the sparkling parking lot.
Once out of the shower and dressed in jeans and a long royal blue turtleneck sweater that made my gray eyes appear bluish, I went downstairs to the kitchen.
The table was set with Miles’s good china. Coffee percolated. Bacon hissed. Spanky lay in the sunlight near the French doors, and I guessed his tummy was full, since he didn’t jump up. Jagger sat at the table, doodling. I noticed the shiner around his eye had dulled to a yellowish purple today. I felt a twinge of guilt for slugging him.
“Something smells good.” I went to the table, took my cup from the saucer and walked to the counter.
“I’d think an investigator like yourself, Sherlock, could identify the aroma.” He didn’t budge. Kept doodling.
I laughed—alone. “Bacon. There. I’ve learned from the best. Besides, it was just a figure of speech.” I walked back to the table, stopping to pet Spanky on the head.
He opened a sleepy eye at me as if to say, “Leave me alone,” and promptly shut it.
I sat opposite Jagger and put Equal and milk into my coffee. I preferred tea in the morning, having taken to drinking green tea since I’d heard it had health benefits, but today the coffee tasted wonderful. Maybe because I got to sleep late after the rotten night I’d had. Maybe because I was actually starved and it wasn’t my usual breakfast choice.
Or maybe it tasted so wonderful because Jagger had made it.
I really couldn’t let my mother know about this. We ate in relative silence, then I told him I would clean up since he cooked. Jagger gave Spanky a pat on the head. The little traitor actually opened both eyes, licked Jagger’s hand, and then I think the damn Benedict Arnold dog smiled.
“I’m off now,” was all Jagger said before heading out.
I followed him to the living room. “That was nice, the breakfast. Thanks.”
He nodded and opened the door.
A little stuffed black-and-white dog tumbled into the entryway near Jagger’s feet. He bent, picked it up.
A note was tied to the red ribbon of the dog’s neck.
“What the heck is that? Looks like my Spanky. I wonder if some kids left it—”
Jagger looked at me.
“This didn’t come from any kids.”
Twenty-three
I could only stare.
Jagger kept his head down, looking at the note. The stuffed Spanky tucked under his arm now looked rather grotesque. Its button eyes had been pulled off. I swallowed hard and sucked in a deep breath. Spanky curled up near the fireplace without a care. I let my breath out very slowly. “What … is it? What does it say?”
Jagger folded it up. “You don’t need to know.”
“I … What? What do you mean, I don’t need to know?”
He stuffed it into his pocket. “Just that. If I let you read it, you’ll go off on a tangent, misinterpreting—”
“And not continue to work for you.”
“Let me ask you something, Pauline.”
Serious. He was dead serious. “What?”
“Do you trust me?”
I looked at him a few seconds. Not being able to read his dark eyes, yet feeling that calm still deep inside when he looked at me, I said, “You’re not being fair.”
“I didn’t ask you if I was fair. I’m the first to admit I’m not. Hell, sometimes I’m downright selfish. I can be a taker if the need suits me. Jagger does what Jagger wants.”
He shoved the stupid dog under his other arm. I guessed it was so I couldn’t keep staring at it the way I’d been doing. “Then why should I trust you?”
“That’s up to you to decide.” With that, he turned and gingerly walked across the grass instead of the icy sidewalk.
Patches had melted but there were still slick spots. The roads, however, seemed much better since the traffic was traveling at a decent speed.
Over his shoulder he said, “Get inside and lock the door. Don’t answer it without finding out who it is. Don’t open it unless it’s someone you know. I’ll take this to Lieutenant Shatley.” At the door of his car, he stopped and looked at me. “You never answered my question.”
I touched the handle of my door and held my chin up high. Not an easy feat to do when your heart is doing a jig in your chest.
He waited, watching.
“Yes.”
Jagger had nodded and gotten into his SUV before I could shut and lock my door. I really did trust him, but being here alone had me a bit concerned. Who knew where I lived? How did they find that out? And why didn’t Jagger stay with me?
I hurried inside, slammed the door, locked it, rechecked the locks and collapsed against the door as if my one hundred fifteen pounds could keep someone from opening it. I stayed there, thinking.
Maybe the note wasn’t for me. Maybe it was a mistake. Or maybe it was meant for Jagger. Someone knew he was here. Someone was following him.
Maybe that’s why he left. Silly, he had work to do and even if someone was following him, he wouldn’t hide out. I rechecked the locks again, hurried over to Spanky and picked him up despite his low growl. “Too bad, buddy, I need a hug right now.”
The phone rang.
Spanky jumped, or maybe it only appeared as if he jumped because I did.
For a few seconds I could only stare. Was my life going to be run by fear? Did I really have anything to fear? No one should suspect me. I’d been very discreet at work and had never gotten caught.
Ring. Ring.
I sucked in a breath and walked to the phone. When I lifted the receiver, I heard, “Five-five-five three, six-eight-nine-one. Write it down this time.”
Then a dial tone.
I opened the drawer and took out the notepad Miles kept there for phone messages. At least Miles was prepared, I thought, as I jotted down Jagger’s cell phone number.
I tucked it into my pants pocket but not before memorizing it. I ran the numbers through my head one more time.
The doorbell rang.
I shouted something foul, and Spanky jumped up and ran toward the door, barking.
Keep calm, Pauline. You are a professional. This became my mantra until I forced my feet to move toward the door. Miles wouldn’t ring the bell unless he forgot his key.
Maybe Jagger had come back?
Spanky kept barking. I could only hope that whoever it was didn’t know the dog weighed only five pounds and could be frightened away by any loud sound.
The bell rang again.
I grabbed a pillow from the couch and walked closer. What the hell? Did I think I could smother an attacker? I threw it down and stood there.
“Suga? Open up! You all right?”
Bang. Bang.
Tears sprang to my eyes. Goldie! I hurried to open the door. “Goldie!” Spanky jumped and ran toward the kitchen, and Goldie took my hands into his.
“You’re not all right. You look like shit. Scared shit. Or is it shitless?” He had a large gym bag with him. A large black bag with purple and green and yellow Mardi Gras masks on it. He would make a perfect ambassador for tourism in the city of New Orleans. “You gonna let me in all the way, suga?”
“I’m so sorry. I—” I took a step back. “Oh my God! You’re not dressed!”
He closed the door an
d laughed. “I’m not exactly naked, suga. I’m taking a day off, and on my days off I like to go casual.”
Casual was an understatement.
I’d been so scared before when I opened the door that I hadn’t noticed Goldie wasn’t in drag. His hair was cropped short, blond with tiny spikes in the front. Dark sunglasses with tortoiseshell frames covered his eyes. His complexion was smooth and tanned. I reached out and touched his face. “No makeup.”
He laughed and set the bag on a chair. “Casual Tuesday. No muss. No fuss.”
I couldn’t help stare at his chest. It was so much flatter.
He looked at me. “Water bra.”
I smiled and nodded as if I knew what a water bra was. I did, however, assume the cups were filled with water. Wow. Soft and full and round without any surgery or hormones. “You look good. Real good. Not that you don’t look good in … you always look gorgeous.”
He slung off his brown leather jacket with a dyed brown lambswool collar on it, and put it on a chair and shoved his sunglasses to the top of his head. “Sun’s a bitch today with all that melting ice. Too much glare hurts my eyes.” If anyone had told me Goldie would be wearing jeans—although tighter than the casing on a kielbasa—I’d have said they were crazy.
Masculine wasn’t a term I’d use to describe Goldie when not wearing drag. He still had some feminine features, like his little pert nose, soft skin, and big round eyes. But he was cute.
I couldn’t help but go over and hug him again. I’ve never been known as a touchy-feely type, but lately—that is, since taking on this new job—I had urges to be held by someone or to hug someone or something. Spanky took the brunt of my hugging, even if he didn’t welcome it. “Sorry. I needed that.”
Goldie laughed. “Hey, we all need somebody sometime. Isn’t that a song?”
“I don’t know,” I said, feeling downright giddy to have his company. “What’s in the bag?”
“Gym clothes.” He turned toward the kitchen. “Don’t you offer your guests a drink?”
“It’s only ten thirty and gym clothes?”
He laughed again. “Hey, you think I was born with this bod? No siree, suga. I’m on my way home from Gold’s Gym.”
