Officer Daddy

by Jacqueline Diamond

  Outside the small auditorium, someone had set up a coffee urn and disposable cups. The way Nora’s stomach was churning, she couldn’t handle coffee, so she settled for a cup of tea instead.

  Bracing for whatever revelations lay ahead, she shouldered open the door and slipped inside.

  Chapter Four

  “You don’t need some snotty society babe anyway,” Patty said as Leo slid into the patrol car and handed her a cup of black coffee from the corner café. No soy mocha latte crap for his partner.

  “What do you mean?” He hadn’t mentioned anything about calling Nora.

  “You’ve got Whipped Puppy written all over your face.” She put the car in gear and headed east along Ocean View Avenue, which had no ocean view and wasn’t much of an avenue, either. “Take it from me, you’d just end up shooting clay pigeons.”

  When her high school boyfriend’s rich parents broke them up, Patty had vented her wrath by demolishing clay pigeons on a firing range. She’d pictured each pigeon as the guy’s head.

  “She isn’t snotty or rich,” Leo protested. “She’s a doctor.”

  “Yeah, they’re a humble bunch.”

  Normally, he’d have agreed with the irony in his partner’s comment, but something about Nora appealed to him. She was an odd mix of sophistication, intellect and ditsy blonde. Weird and hard to resist, or she would be if she hadn’t just handed him his walking papers.

  Then Patty said something that drove Nora completely from his mind. “I wonder what Captain Reed wants.” They’d been ordered to return early from their shift and report to the detective captain’s office.

  “Whatever the brass dreams up, it’s never good.”

  “Something to do with making detective,” she surmised.

  “Obviously.” Leo, Patty and a bootlicker named Trent Horner were the three top scorers on the written promotional exam. They all had excellent performance evaluations and recommendations, and had expected to be scheduled for individual interviews. Instead, they’d received this puzzling instruction at briefing today.

  “Don’t take your bad temper out on me.” Patty sniffed.

  “Sorry.”

  “And don’t apologize. Makes you sound like a wimp.”

  He grinned. “Yeah? Well, you can shove your thin skin where the sun never shines.”

  “That’s more like it!”

  Through the window, Leo noted a couple of teenage boys performing skateboard tricks over the curb. Not very safe, but they were wearing helmets and had the sense not to explode into the street in front of the cruiser. He decided to give them a break.

  Besides, he didn’t want to be the last to arrive. Trent was the kind of guy who’d turn any little thing to his advantage.

  Patty made a couple of quick turns, eased past city hall and swung into the police-station parking lot. “Home, sweet home.”

  The two-story stucco building had become a home of sorts. After earning a master’s degree in criminal science from Cal State University in nearby Long Beach, Leo had applied to a dozen police departments and received three offers. When it came time to decide between giant Los Angeles, a medium-size suburban community to the north and small Safe Harbor, he’d been surprised by the rush of affection he felt for his hometown.

  His parents were both dead, and he’d been semi-estranged from Tony and his first wife, who gave Leo the impression she barely considered him worthy of her acquaintance. Although he’d had no personal reason to return here, as he’d weighed his options he’d discovered that he truly cared about this community and its people.

  So he’d said yes. Now here he was, five years later, trying to prove he deserved to move up.

  He and Patty emerged at the top of the rear staircase to find Trent already waiting in the detective bureau. The blond officer looked as if he’d stopped by the dry cleaner’s to pick up his neatly pressed uniform and arranged for a professional cut and shave.

  Through the window of a private office, Leo could see Captain Alan Reed talking intently with Sergeant Ed Hough. About what?

  As they waited, Leo surveyed the open room, where he hoped to be working soon. On a Friday afternoon, most of the detectives were out in the field. Over in Juveniles, the desks were nearly clear of case files, in contrast to the vice/narcotics section, where the guys appeared to be composting heaps of papers, cups and takeout cartons, along with a copy of a girlie magazine that they probably claimed was research.

  In the crimes-against-persons section, Mike Aaron sat tapping away at his computer. It was his position that would open up in a month. He and an old friend were buying a private detective agency.

  The door to the captain’s office swung open. Reed, his craggy face topped by gray hair, surveyed the three candidates coolly. “Come on in.”

  Trent reached the door first but waited to let Patty go through. He should have known she hated gestures like that. Leo suppressed a grin as she trod on the guy’s shiny leather shoe.

  The three of them joined Reed and Hough around a small conference table. Despite the closed door, they were in full view of the bureau. Leo, who hated being on show, sat to one side with his face averted from the window.

  The captain didn’t bother with chitchat. “The chief has asked me to recommend one of you. You’re all strong candidates, and neither Ed nor I feel ready to choose.”

  The sergeant, who’d been promoted to his position a mere six months earlier, was a meticulous investigator and a class-A paper-shuffler. A decent enough fellow, in Leo’s estimation, but not the kind of person who inspired men and women to follow him.

  “I’m reluctant to impose on Lieutenant Sellers,” the captain went on. “He knows you better than we do, but he has other things on his mind right now.”

  “How’s his daughter doing?” Patty asked.

  “She’s out of the coma, but there’s a long road ahead.” The thirteen-year-old had barely survived a car crash that killed the drunk driver who’d smashed into her father’s vehicle. Sellers, a widower, had taken extended leave to care for his daughter.

  “How can we prove our worth to you, sir?” Trent asked.

  Leo suppressed a sarcastic crack. Did the guy have to be so oily?

  “Ed and I agree that the best course is to observe the three of you closely over the next two weeks. We’ll be looking for initiative, thoroughness and commitment. I can’t be more specific than that. You all have strengths, so we’ll be looking for qualities that make you stand out.” The captain glanced at the sergeant. “Anything you care to add?”

  Hough cleared his throat. “This isn’t a contest pitting you against each other. I’d hate to see this degenerate into a squabble.”

  “Anyone undercutting their fellow candidates will be disqualified and reprimanded,” the captain added. “Questions?”

  “Is it all right if we put in extra hours?” Trent asked.

  Touchy issue. “I can’t authorize overtime,” the captain said. “But we are willing to be flexible and allow a certain amount of leeway with your shifts on a case-by-case basis if you choose to undertake some special project.”

  Leo interpreted Patty’s frown as confusion. She excelled at dealing with crises, especially calming potential confrontations where tempers ran high, such as domestic disputes. But strategic planning wasn’t her forte.

  As for Trent, no doubt he was already calculating how to position himself for maximum attention from the brass. Well, let him. Leo intended to go about this in a professional manner.

  Since there were no questions, the captain dismissed the candidates. Hough followed them out and Trent, running true to form, asked to speak to the sergeant privately.

  “What do you suppose he’s up to?” Patty grumbled after the pair went off together.

  “I refuse to worry about it.”

  “How about you?” she asked. “What’s your plan?”

  No sense trying to hide it. “I’m going to ask if I can shadow Mike.”

  Her face lit up. “That’
s a great idea. Let’s both go.”

  “Hold on.” The last thing Leo wanted was to put a wedge between him and his partner. Still, this was his idea. “Since I came up with this, why don’t you pick someone else?”

  “Because everybody else is out.”

  “They’ll be back soon.”

  “Oh, come on.” To Leo’s dismay, Patty wheeled and marched straight for Mike’s desk. It had never occurred to him that his pal would commandeer his idea.

  Of course, she didn’t see it that way, he realized as he heard her announce, “Hey, Mike, how about Leo and I shadow you? You can show us the ropes and we’ll take some of the load off you.”

  The detective dragged his gaze from the computer screen. “Both of you? Leo can find his own mentor.”

  “Well…” Patty wavered. “It was his idea.”

  “You beat him to it,” Mike pointed out. “Besides, you’re prettier than he is.” The detective’s easy manner belied the flirtatious words. Although single, he’d never treated Patty as anything other than one of the guys.

  Leo gritted his teeth. Whatever he said now would sound like sour grapes.

  Patty shot him an apologetic look. “Sorry, Leo.”

  “Don’t apologize. It makes you sound like a wimp.”

  Hearing her own words brought a rueful nod. “I guess what’s done is done.”

  “So what’re your plans for tomorrow?” Mike asked her.

  They were scheduled to patrol. But the captain had offered to be flexible, so Leo shrugged and left Patty to make arrangements.

  Across the room, Trent and Hough emerged from the sergeant’s office and shook hands. The bootlicker had his course under control, obviously.

  Leo supposed he could find another detective to shadow, but there was no one he respected as much as Mike. Besides, the captain had mentioned showing initiative and standing out. Imitating his two rivals wouldn’t accomplish either of those goals.

  Usually, in a situation like this, he talked things over with Patty. Not this time, he decided as he skimmed down the stairs to the locker room. Second choice for a sounding board might be Tony, but while Leo sometimes asked his brother about legal issues, he preferred to forge his own path when it came to his career. Chalk it up to a lingering adolescent rivalry, but he wanted his victories to be strictly his own.

  An image of Nora flashed onto his mental screen. Talking things over with her might help clarify his thoughts. But after the way she’d shot him down, that was out of the question.

  He’d be handling this one alone. And he’d better come up with a plan fast.

  “I CAN’T BELIEVE THAT man!” Sitting at a table in the hospital cafeteria, Nora downed another bite of her early dinner special, which tonight consisted of roast chicken, lemon rice and a vegetable medley. Usually, she ate salad for dinner, but today she felt ravenous. Being infuriated at Dr. Tartikoff apparently stimulated her appetite, which didn’t bode well for her waistline in the coming months.

  “It sounds like I missed quite an introduction to the great Dr. T.,” Samantha Forrest observed over a cup of coffee. The pediatrician had caught Nora in the hallway after the teleconference and suggested they get together for a chat.

  Neither woman had much time for socializing, and Nora appreciated the offer. She needed to unload on someone.

  Sitting in the darkened auditorium, she’d listened in dismay as the renowned specialist, teleconferencing from his office in Massachusetts, had laid out his plans. He intended to put Safe Harbor Medical Center’s new fertility program on the medical map, and never mind who got run over on the way.

  “He didn’t cite me by name, but he singled out some of my cases as bad examples.” While Nora disliked having the new fertility director go through her patient records, technically the patients’ right to confidentiality didn’t bar a medical superior from reviewing treatment plans. “It appears I don’t take enough of a high-tech approach to suit him.”

  “Mark mentioned something about him wanting to achieve the highest pregnancy rate in California.” Although her pediatric practice wasn’t directly linked to the new program, Sam clearly kept tabs through her husband.

  Stab, stab went Nora’s fork. She sent her target, a lima bean, scurrying over the edge of the plate, where it hid from sight. “He said one doctor—that would be me—had a patient undergoing traditional hormone treatments for three years until she gave up and decided to adopt. I guess he didn’t read the part about her religious objections to in vitro.”

  “He does have a reputation for being bullheaded.”

  “And I can’t believe he…” Hearing the ring of her own voice, Nora glanced around. Nobody occupied the tables close by, but she lowered the volume all the same. “He mentioned that this same doctor has another couple who’re taking it slow when they might already have achieved pregnancies. Sure, by bankrupting themselves!”

  The couple in question were in their late twenties and lacked insurance coverage for infertility. Since their youth allowed them a few years’ latitude, they’d chosen to try less-expensive procedures first.

  “You aren’t directly under his supervision,” Sam commented. “Not like his research fellows.”

  “He’s supervising all the infertility cases here,” Nora reminded her. While those constituted only part of her practice, it was an important part. “He actually lectured us about upgrading our skills, as if we don’t already attend seminars and keep current with research. The problem is, he sees this as strictly a technological issue. He doesn’t seem to grasp that it’s also about emotions, finances, the whole range of patients’ lives.”

  “You don’t have to persuade me. Besides, he can’t order you to go against a patient’s wishes,” Sam reminded her. “And Mark will back you up.”

  “Yes, but I know the pressure he’s under.” Everyone was aware how badly the corporate owner, Medical Center Management, wanted to develop a lucrative, world-class fertility program.

  “You’re a great doctor—I’m on your side,” the pediatrician declared.

  Impulsively, Nora reached across and patted Sam’s arm. “I appreciate that.”

  “I mean it.”

  “Thanks.” Nora studied her empty plate, puzzled. Had she eaten everything?

  “Speaking of what a great doctor you are,” Sam went on, “we could use your help with the counseling center.”

  “Oh?” Nora braced for the latest request to lend her expertise to the sometimes shaky project Sam had launched last fall with little more than goodwill and enthusiasm. Its fancy name—the Edward Serra Memorial Clinic—couldn’t disguise the lack of funding or the fact that the program, based at the city’s community center, depended on volunteer staff and peer counselors.

  Nora applauded the goal of providing information and a sympathetic ear to teen parents, abused women and families in crisis, but there were other, better funded and better organized programs to help them. That was why she’d resisted Sam’s urging to get involved.

  “I know we’re rough around the edges, but nobody else does what we do.” The pediatrician leaned forward, blue eyes ablaze. “Many of our clients mistrust red tape and snoopy bureaucracies. They like being able to wander in without an appointment and just talk to somebody.”

  “Which does not have to be an obstetrician,” Nora pointed out. “I already work at a free clinic several times a month, and my nurse volunteers for you. Why don’t you ask Bailey to see them?”

  Sam ignored the question. “There are a couple of girls I’m concerned about. You’d be perfect to counsel them.”

  “Do they have medical issues?” Nora was willing to offer advice in her field of expertise.

  “Not specifically, but they have problems related to their pregnancies. Like, what to do with the babies.” Quickly, her friend pushed onward. “They both tend to drop by on Saturday afternoons. Guess it’s hard to roll out of bed early when you’re pregnant.”

  “It’s hard to roll out of bed early, period.” Recently
, Nora had started setting two alarm clocks, one placed halfway across the bedroom to make sure she didn’t dive back under the covers and fall asleep.

  “Come in tomorrow afternoon and say hello. Pretty please. Their names are Violet and Suzy. You’ve got the perfect opening—just ask if they have any medical questions. They do get prenatal care through the county, but they’re pretty hit-or-miss about keeping their appointments.”

  Nora had to admire her tenacity. “All right. I’ll assess the situation. Once.”

  “Fabulous! I’ve been hoping we could add an obstetrician to our roster. Now, if we could find a few guys to counsel the teen dads, we’d be set. I was hoping Mark would find time, but he prefers to play with the triplets, and I can’t blame him.” Mark and Samantha were adopting three adorable infants.

  “Don’t add me to your roster. I’m stopping by only once.” Nora gave her plate another baleful look, affronted by its emptiness.

  “I’ll let Eleanor know you’re coming.” Eleanor Wycliff, a volunteer from Los Angeles, coordinated the counseling center.

  Nora had been looking forward to sleeping late on Saturday and then hanging around the house in her bathrobe. Too late to back out, though. “Okay.”

  After her friend departed, Nora stood near the serving line, debating the nutritional merits of rice pudding for dessert. She didn’t usually like bland food, but after suffering indigestion all week…

  Chalky stomach. Increased appetite. Deeper sleep. Aversion to coffee. The symptoms added up.

  Oh, please, no. Taking out her phone, Nora opened the organizer and checked the calendar.

  Period. Late.

  Which didn’t necessarily mean anything, since she was often irregular, Nora told herself sternly. That was one of the reasons she’d been concerned about waiting too long to conceive.

  But maybe she didn’t need to worry about that anymore.