Free Spirits
Page 19
Alex stared at the burned frying pan and the dark smoke billowing out the open window. “I’m not worried one bit,” she lied.
“Hey, everything okay?” A delightfully rumpled Michael appeared in the bedroom doorway, his pants zipped but not snapped. He walked into the kitchen and looked at the smoking pan. “Burning breakfast, are we?”
Marian drew herself up. “You inform that man my breakfasts are famous.”
“Infamous is more like it,” Patrick muttered before kissing his wife on the cheek by way of apology.
“When I turned the frying pan on I didn’t realize there was already something in it,” Alex improvised weakly.
Patrick rolled his eyes. “Good going, Alex. He’ll really believe that. You would have been better off telling him your dead mother made breakfast.”
Alex pasted a brilliant smile on her face and linked her arms
around Michael’s neck. “I have a wonderful idea. How about if I take you out for breakfast,” she said brightly.
He grinned back. “I’ve got an even better idea.” He dipped his head, whispering something in her ear that left her red-faced and short of breath.
“I think I like your idea better,” she gasped when he nipped her earlobe. “Just as long as all uninvited guests leave the premises.”
“Your cat is still in the living room, so we’re safe.”
“Is that all he has on his mind,” Patrick grumbled, scowling at an unsuspecting Michael. “What’s wrong with a little conversation now and then?”
“As if you didn’t try anything like that when we were seeing each other,” Marian reminded him.
“At least I didn’t flaunt it.”
“Just be happy it isn’t Jason Palmer in her bed.”
“If our daughter had been stupid enough to allow what’s-his-name in here, I would have dragged out all the chains and moans any self-respecting ghost could use,” he said with a dire frown.
Alex was past hearing. She only knew that Dr. Duffy had the most remarkable hands…and mouth…and teeth…and…
Michael needed sleep. Lots of it. Right now his eyelids were so heavy that he doubted even toothpicks could hold them up. It didn’t help that he was only an hour into his shift. He prayed it would be a slow night so he could catch up on his sleep in the on-call room.
“You look like something the cat dragged in.” Dennis eyed him critically. “Come to think of it, I don’t think even a cat would bother with you right now.”
“Thanks for the compliment,” he said wryly.
Dennis scanned the chart in his hands and quickly signed the bottom of the top sheet before handing it to a nurse. “Since the mother doesn’t speak much English, get someone who speaks Spanish to explain that if her son’s temperature rises again she’s got to bring him in right away,” he told her. “Make sure she understands these suppositories I’ve prescribed are not an oral medication,” he sighed. “I should have specialized in plastic surgery. There aren’t as many headaches.”
“I once thought about pathology,” Michael admitted.
Dennis nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I could go for that. The patients in the morgue don’t talk back.”
Macabre humor was a fact of life among the medical profession. For some it was the only way to remain sane in the face of the tragedies they encountered during a typical working day.
“So what’s with the bags under the eyes?” Dennis walked with Michael down the hall toward the doctor’s lounge. “She keeping you up late?” he laughed at his double-edged joke.
A grateful Michael headed for the coffeepot with its recently brewed contents and poured himself a cup, sighing with relief in between sips of the hot liquid.
“I caught up on the latest medical journals,” he evaded, resting his hip against the table.
After hearing about the episode in the cafeteria, Dennis knew better than to push the subject. While no one had heard the exact conversation between Michael and Craig, they all knew it had something to do with Alex. Although he was as curious as everyone else, Dennis wasn’t about to ask. Judging by Michael’s heavy eyes, there was one good consideration. “Sure it is. Ah, caffeine, drink of the gods,” he intoned, flopping back on a patched vinyl couch that had seen better days. “Word has it the so-called budget allowing for extra nurses and doctors has been cut back—again. If I had any brains I’d go into private practice before the double shifts kick in again. If you were smart, you’d do the same thing.” He tipped his cup in Michael’s direction.
“Trauma medicine isn’t exactly a specialty suited for private practice, Dennis,” he replied, pouring himself another cup before sitting down.
“No, but you’ve got surgery or general medicine to think about. Hey, a few refresher courses and you’d be on top of things.”
Michael chuckled. “I don’t think it’s my style.”
Dennis leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Last night, I had a kid high on drugs pull a knife on me and if I hadn’t been quick I would have been split open like a melon. There’s got to be more from life than that. And I want to find it.”
Michael hated the idea of losing a talented colleague, even though this wouldn’t be the first time it had happened to him over the years. There was too much money in private practice and the hours weren’t as crazy. “Then good luck in your search.”
Dennis eyed him speculatively. He decided to go for broke. “Will I get my head chopped off if I mention Alex’s name?”
Michael raised his head. “Do us both a favor, Dennis, let’s not drag Alex into this.”
Dennis read his hidden message loud and clear. He also knew what just might be going on between Alex and Michael was the kind of information Craig Sommers would love to capitalize on. Luckily, Dennis liked Michael more than Craig and wasn’t the malicious sort. He pasted a look of complete innocence on his face. “Alex who?”
Chapter Thirteen
“Alex, give me a break here. All I’m asking of you is one cocktail party. A couple of hours of your time. No more.”
“No.”
“Okay, an hour. And then you can leave with a clear conscience, knowing that you’ve done your duty.”
“I already have a clear conscience by not even going. Simon, you know very well how I feel about cocktail parties where everyone stands around and makes inane conversation and sees who can outdrink the other without looking drunk. It isn’t my style.” Alex’s head was downcast as she carefully read each printed page her agent set before her, and then affixed her signature to the dotted line. While she trusted him implicitly, she still believed in knowing exactly what she was signing.
The man seated across from her patted his balding head with his handkerchief before carefully folding it and replacing it in his jacket pocket. “Alex, honey, these people pay you a lot of money for your comic strip. Naturally, they want to meet the brains behind Fritzi and ‘Chuck-It-All Tours.’ It’s part of the game.”
“Yes, and they’re getting a great deal in the bargain. A bargain that does not include me.” Her eyes turned icier than ever. “Simon, I told you in the very beginning that I don’t play politics nor will I schmooze with the clients whenever they snap their fingers. If they like my work, fine. If there’s to be a business dinner, I’m more than willing to attend. But no cocktail parties. I won’t put up with some idiot from the corporate office trying to tell me that the money paid for my strip includes private time with me,” she said firmly, handing over the papers which Simon slid into the briefcase lying open on the couch beside him. He’d called her early that morning explaining he was going to be in the area around ten and rather than her having to make a special trip to his office he was willing to bring them by. “If I recall correctly, the first time you brought this up you only mentioned dinner with several syndicate members, nothing about a cocktail party.” She speared him with her most intimidating gaze which would have left a lesser man squirming. Luckily Simon was made of tougher stuff. In his business, he had to be.<
br />
“They changed their minds,” he muttered. “They thought an informal cocktail party would be a better way for people to get together.”
She arched a disbelieving eyebrow. “Informal? Simon, for a man who’s so astute in business, you’re a complete washout when it comes to these matters. All right,” she relented when she saw his crestfallen expression. “I’ll attend, but I might be bringing someone with me, and don’t expect us to stay long,” she issued her warning.
He stood up quickly, grabbing his briefcase at the same time. What made him good was that he knew when to move in for the kill and when to back off. This was most definitely the time to back off. “The moment I hear the details about the party I’ll pass them on.”
“Just be happy that I’m promising to behave.” She smiled beatifically.
“Thank heavens,” he muttered, walking to the door. “Just no dumping drinks on the money men, okay? The dry cleaning bill the last time was horrendous.”
“If they don’t keep their hands to themselves, they deserve it,” she said, ushering her agent out.
“Who doesn’t keep their hands to themselves?” Patrick asked suspiciously when Alex closed the door after Simon.
“Creepy members of the syndication,” she replied. “Luckily it only takes them once to realize they’ve made a mistake.”
Patrick was slightly mollified. “I’m just glad to know you can take care of yourself.”
“Patrick, Alex has been on her own for a long time. She knows how to protect herself,” Marian reminded him. “And I’m certain she’s more than happy you weren’t able to do anything about Jason that night.”
He looked at her askance. “It wasn’t me who found a way to get the cat to attack him.”
“A spur-of-the-moment decision that worked beautifully, I might add.” She turned to her daughter. “I gather you’re going to ask Michael to attend the party with you?” she asked with a hopeful air.
She studied her nails which were short, neatly manicured ovals. “If he isn’t on duty or he can switch with someone that night. It will give him a chance to see what my world is like.” She eyed them. “Don’t get any ideas about trying to take matters into your own hands again. No offense, but you two have created more than enough chaos the past few weeks.”
“Us?”
“Yes, you.”
Marian sat on the couch, studying the hem of the dress she detested. “Alex, you know very well that we can’t leave the confines of this apartment,” she reproached her daughter. “That was part of the terms for our return. Yet you always accuse us of instigating something away from here.”
“Part of the terms?” She jumped on the words. “There’s more involved with all this hocus-pocus?” She gnashed her teeth when she saw their expression. “Wait, let me guess. Trade secret?” They nodded. “Why am I not surprised? None of the stunts you two have pulled has been the least bit normal. Why do I expect this to be any different? As for what’s happened away from here, deep down I know you had something to do with all of it. I intend to find out how you managed it.”
Patrick was busy switching television channels, looking for a sports game, when his attention was grabbed by CNN. “Well, what do you know,” he whooped. “Talk about someone receiving his just deserts. What color do they wear in jail now?”
Alex first glanced at the television screen, then stared wide-eyed when the video camera displayed a business-office doorway where a familiar figure garbed in a well-cut three-piece suit and handcuffs was led away by two police detectives. The moment the prisoner spied the television cameras he brought his bound hands up to his face to use as a shield, but he was too late to hide from the intrusive cameras.
“Jason Palmer of the prestigious investment firm Trainor and Associates in downtown Los Angeles was arrested today on thirty-two counts of fraud and embezzlement and one charge of resisting arrest,” the dispassionate announcer’s voice intoned. “When confronted in his office by police officers, Palmer shouted they had no right to be there and struck out with his fists, leaving one uniformed officer with a broken nose and a black eye. Until a thorough audit can be performed, there is no idea how many of Palmer’s clients have been victimized by his money games.”
Alex sat there finding herself not all that surprised at the news. Not after her last confrontation with Jason. No wonder he was desperate to get his hands on her portfolio. He probably needed money to replace what he had stolen from other accounts. She shook her head, saddened that a man with his financial expertise would lower himself to such depths just to get money.
She quickly switched channels to see if any of the other stations had something else about Jason, then remembered it was too early in the day for the regular evening news. She glanced at her answering machine with its red beeping light winking at her and low-toned beep. She doubted she wanted to hear what it had to say.
“Something tells me I should have the machine pick up my calls tonight,” she sighed. “I can’t believe Jason would do something so unprofessional, not to mention stupid. He loved his work more than anything. The man wore his professionalism like a uniform. If his checkbook didn’t balance to the
penny he kept at it until he found that lost penny. This doesn’t sound like the work of a man who has all his marbles.”
“This is the work of a man craving power through well-heeled clients with an unlimited amount of money to spend,” Patrick explained. “He identified money with power, and as time went on he was willing to do anything to get it.”
Alex jumped when the phone rang. She waited for the message to play for the caller before the message tape clicked on.
“Ms. Cassidy, this is Lyle Wright with the L.A. Times. I’d like to talk to you about Jason Palmer’s case and your reaction to today’s arrest.” He left a phone number and hung up.
It barely clicked off when the phone rang again.
“Alex, this is Michael. Have you seen the news yet?”
She ran for the phone. “Hi, yes, I just saw a report,” she said breathlessly. “I’d say he’s dug himself a hole he won’t be able to climb out of easily.”
“Are you all right?” he asked, concern coloring his voice. “All the media are trying to reach you for a comment.”
“Simon was here for a meeting, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he returns to his office to find messages from most of them. I just let the machine pick up my calls while he was here and I didn’t listen to the messages since the volume was kept low,” she explained. “Whether I like it or not, I’ll have to say something to someone, but I want to talk to Simon first and see if he has any suggestions. He knows how to handle this kind of situation. Talk about unwanted excitement in my life,” she said wryly.
“Perhaps you should think about staying at my place for a while,” he suggested. “At least until things die down. If someone is stubborn enough, they could find out where you live and camp on your doorstep.”
While the idea sounded wonderful, she knew she had to protest. “It’s a generous offer, Michael, but I have work to do. Besides, I doubt this scandal is going to last for more than a few days. By tomorrow something new will turn up. I hope,” she murmured under her breath.
“I heard that.”
“Um, you’ve got sharp ears, Doctor.”
“It’s a good thing I do. Damn, I’m being paged. You know where I am if you need me. I’ll come by when I get off duty.”
“Michael,” she spoke swiftly. “If there’s a chance there are reporters downstairs, don’t come up. Please. I don’t want you involved in all this.”
“I’m already involved,” he said quietly just before he hung up.
Alex was left holding a receiver connected to dead air. “The man is getting serious,” she said to herself, then cursed when she belatedly remembered she had two pair of ears avidly listening to every word. After more than one taste of their trade secrets, she sensed they could hear what Michael said without even bothering to use the bedroom extension!
Alex picked up Suzi Q and settled the cat into her lap, stroking the smooth fur to remain calm. “He didn’t. Not deliberately. It just took a reporter to do some digging to learn we’ve been dating exclusively for the past couple of years.”
This time when the phone rang she wasn’t surprised to hear Simon’s excited voice on the answering machine speaker ordering her to pick up the phone.
“Ah, we’re playing with our car phone again, aren’t we?” she asked playfully, knowing full well why he called. As far as Simon was concerned, the only decent radio stations were those that were all news. “Don’t you know talking on a car phone while on the freeway is dangerous?”
“Congratulations on getting involved in a financial swindle, kid,” he said crisply.
“That was Jason’s department, not mine. I merely attended a few business dinners with him. In fact, I was going to call you later and see how you wanted to handle this. I’m already receiving calls from reporters asking for my reaction to Jason’s arrest.” She knew that would soothe his fevered brow. Simon loved to feel in control. And she loved to let him handle all the dirty work!
“I’ll set something up in my office,” he said promptly. “Who’s called so far?” He hummed under his breath as he listened. ”All right, I’ll make the calls and let you know when. It’s a good thing he never tried to get his hands on your portfolio. Word is he’s left some of his investors in dire straits. If anyone else calls just tell them ‘no comment’ and refer them to my office.”
Alex hung up with a sigh of relief. “I’m glad he’s willing to put up with this mess, because I’d probably insult them and only make matters worse.” She looked at her parents. “I draw cartoons and live a fairly normal life. How could I get caught up in something like this, even if only on the fringes? I really pick them. An ex-husband who never learned the meaning of fidelity and an ex-boyfriend who’s turned out to be a crook.”
“I knew he was no good the first time I saw him,” Patrick happily inserted.