Diagnosis: Danger

by Marie Ferrarella

  “We’re going to have to put that tour on hold.” Turning on her heel, she went through the electronic doors into the back of the E.R. There was no time to argue. From the sound of it, the baby did need medical attention and soon. If she didn’t receive it, then quite possibly Stacey Cummings would be in the danger zone.

  Natalya checked in at the outpatient reception desk just seconds ahead of the anxious couple and their crying eighteen-month-old. A quick examination showed that the baby was suffering from the croup, something that, Natalya assured Stacey’s parents, was not fatal, but needed to be treated properly.

  “Then we can take her home?” Mrs. Cummings asked eagerly.

  “No, I’m afraid she needs to spend some time in an oxygen tent. Her lungs need to be cleared. We’ll keep her here overnight for observation to be on the safe side and you can pick her up in the morning.”

  “She’s never been away from home,” Mrs. Cummings cried.

  “No sleepovers yet?” Natalya teased gently. She put a comforting arm around the woman’s shoulders. “We can arrange to have a cot, or two,” she added, looking at Stacey’s father, “put into the room so you can stay with her.”

  Mr. Cummings looked a little sheepish. “I just want a good night’s sleep.”

  “One cot it is,” Natalya agreed, ending any debate that might have begun between the parents. “The nurses actually prefer it that way.” They really preferred no parents on the premises, but one was better than two, Natalya thought. “Let me make the arrangements.”

  It took approximately a half hour to make it all happen. Stacey and her mother were taken to the pediatric ward while an exhausted Mr. Cummings made his way out of the E.R., promising his wife to be back in the morning.

  “That wasn’t so bad, I guess,” Natalya commented, signing the admission chart before surrendering it to the attending nurse.

  The comment was directed to Mike, who had remained in the background throughout the exam and subsequent interaction between Natalya and the baby’s parents. Now that it was over, he came forward. “You’re pretty good under fire,” he commented.

  Natalya turned to face him. She caught the appreciative look the nurse gave him before retreating with the signed chart. Not that she blamed the woman, Natalya thought.

  She hadn’t forgotten about Mike, not for a moment. Which was highly unusual for her because, when she worked, her patients became the focus of her entire attention. There was nothing to spare, nothing left over. This time, she kept glancing over toward the man who stood against the wall, quietly observing her. Even as she examined the child, assessing her condition, she couldn’t help wonder what was going on in the detective’s mind. It annoyed her that her thoughts could stray like that, but at the same time, she had to admit that it did intrigue her. Because this was not business as usual for her.

  “That was nothing. You should see me with triplets,” she quipped.

  She felt tired, but oddly wired at the same time. The wired feeling had nothing to do with hitting upon a correct, elusive diagnosis or making a tiny patient feel better though. This time, it had everything to do with the man who had happened into her life completely by accident. A man who shouldn’t even have been there.

  “Sounds interesting.” Mike’s tone matched her own. “Ready to leave?”

  She’d signed her small patient in and there was nothing left to do for the night. Natalya nodded. “Ready.”

  They stood a few feet away from the reception desk. He looked at her for a long moment, feeling something stir, telling himself it was nothing more than the usual thrill of the hunt. Too bad it would recede the moment the hunt was a thing of the past. He liked this feeling, liked the exhilaration he felt surging through his veins. He savored it a moment longer, wishing there was a way to make it last.

  But nothing ever lasted.

  “Me, too,” he replied quietly as he slipped his arm around her shoulders. Drawing her closer to him, he guided her out the rear E.R. doors that led out to the small parking lot.

  His bike was exactly where he’d left it, against the far wall. The same valet who’d been there earlier was now standing beside it, eyeing it enviously.

  “She’s a beauty,” the valet said, stepping back.

  Mike slanted a glance toward Natalya. “Yes,” he agreed. “She is.”

  For the first time in her life, Natalya felt a blush working its way up to the roots of her hair. She pretended not to make anything of the exchange. Instead, she took the helmet he handed her.

  His cell phone began to ring just as she was about to mount the bike.

  She left the chin strap unfastened. “Your turn.” She nodded at the sound coming from the front pocket of his jeans.

  God, he hoped not, Mike thought. Leaving his own helmet perched on the seat of the motorcycle, he pulled out his cell.

  Any hope he’d been nurturing died the moment he said hello and heard Louis’s voice on the other end. “We got a body, partner.”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to ask Louis to go solo on this case, at least for now. But Louis wouldn’t have called unless both their presences were required by the captain. Besides, this was his job, and it had always come first before any thoughts of temporary pleasure.

  He tried to console himself with the thought that the longer the end of the hunt was put off, the longer the thrill of pursuit, of the unknown, would continue. Somehow, it seemed a cold consolation.

  Phone to his ear, he half turned, creating a pocket of space for himself. “Where?”

  “Central Park.”

  The city had grown a great deal safer than it had been in the seventies and eighties, but there was still such a thing as common sense. Going into the park after dark was still not the smartest thing to do. But people seemed to check their brains at the entrance. It never ceased to amaze him.

  “Jogger?” he guessed. The wind shifted and he could have sworn he caught a whiff of vanilla. He turned slightly toward Natalya. Her perfume? Shampoo? Or just his imagination?

  “Homeless guy,” Louis said. “He was stabbed several times, robbery obviously not the motive from the way he’s dressed. I’ve started without you,” Louis volunteered, then quipped, “but you know that it’s never any fun when I’m by myself.”

  Mike bit off a sigh. There was no way around this. “All right. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Sooner would be nice,” Louis told him. There was shouting in the background and Louis swore under his breath.

  “Yeah.” Mike closed his phone, terminating the call. Regret nudged at him as he looked in Natalya’s direction. “Looks like I’m going to have to take you home.”

  He’d come with her to her emergency, but she had a feeling that there wasn’t going to be any reciprocation. “I take it this isn’t a bring-your-date-to-the-office kind of thing.”

  Mike felt his mouth curving almost on its own. She’d referred to herself as his date. Normally, he didn’t really like putting labels on things in his private life, but it didn’t bother him this time. Maybe it was the humor in her eyes, or the need he felt in his gut, he wasn’t sure, but something was definitely different here.

  Or maybe that was because it’d been awhile since he’d been with anyone who remotely resembled a female without also being in the process of either questioning her, booking her or making notes before she was taken off to the morgue.

  “Nope, I’m afraid not this time.” He fastened her chin strap for her. “I’ll take you home.”

  She put her hand over his, stopping him. Or maybe just wanting to touch him. “I can still get a cab,” she reminded him.

  He knew he should be on his way, grateful that she was being so understanding. But he wanted to bring her home. “This is faster, and I’d feel better knowing I brought you to your door.”

  A smile played on her lips. One that seemed to find its way straight to his gut. “Wouldn’t want to get in the way of you feeling better,” she told him. With that, she got on behind him,
secured her arms around his waist and leaned in close. “Home, James.”

  Mike laughed as he kicked away the kickstand.

  He’d meant just to leave her at the entrance to her building. The wind had picked up, making it even chillier than it already was, and he had a crime scene that was getting colder by the minute. But as Natalya slid off the back of his motorcycle, he could still feel the warmth of her body as she’d had it pressed against his. Instead of taking off, Mike found himself getting off the motorcycle, as well.

  She took the gesture as one related to his previous claim to chivalry. “You really don’t have to bring me upstairs to my door,” she assured him. Amusement curved the edges of her lips, making them even more tempting than they already were.

  “No,” he agreed, “I’ve got to get going.” But even as he said it, he made no move to get back on his bike. No move to leave her side.

  “You’re not going,” she pointed out quietly. Nor did she want him to go, she realized, not entirely comfortable with the thought.

  “No, I guess I’m not.”

  Mike struggled for a moment, wanting to kiss her, feeling that, given the circumstances, it might still be inappropriate.

  And then, he looked into her eyes and the argument was settled.

  He brought his mouth down to hers ever so fleetingly. At least, that was the initial intent. But the best laid plans of mice and men and off-duty police detectives did not always play out as plotted. Drawing her closer into his arms, Mike deepened the kiss just enough to turn it from friendly into something more.

  How much more, he wasn’t destined to find out just at that point. The middle of a street, even if it wasn’t crowded, wasn’t the place for this and he knew it. But it wasn’t until his cell phone rang again that actual contact was broken.

  Damn technology, he thought, struggling to keep his frustration in check. He yanked out the cell phone, snapping it open and pressing it to his ear.

  “Hello?” he managed, just pulling himself out of what was the beginning of a tailspin.

  “You coming or what?”

  Louis. The terms of justifiable homicide flashed through his head.

  “I’m coming, Louis,” he bit off, then terminated the connection. He looked at Natalya. The outline of her lips was blurred. Seeing that excited him. “I’ve got to go.”

  “I heard.” Which, considering how hard her heart was pounding, was nothing short of a minor miracle, Natalya thought.

  Chapter 8

  Natalya shed her lab coat and hung it on the back of her door, then sat down at her desk for a moment before leaving the office for the night.

  The restless feeling that had been steadily growing all day was only getting worse. She took a breath, then slowly let it out. As she did so, she told herself to take it light.

  She hadn’t heard from Detective DiPalma in several days.

  Four to be exact. And, despite the fact that her Monday had begun with a full complement of small patients all requiring her undivided attention, she grew progressively antsier as the day made its way into night. Tuesday was no better. By Wednesday—today—her nerves felt stretched to the limit.

  Get a grip, Nat.

  Better that she should concentrate on more important things, she reminded herself, and looked at the phone on her desk. An example being, why hadn’t the morgue released Clancy’s body yet? Had they found something more? Or was this an annoying matter of getting lost in the shuffle? Had someone just forgotten to call her to let her know she could pick up Clancy’s remains? She didn’t want to make a pest of herself, but she did have a mortuary in Queens on standby. Clancy deserved a proper funeral.

  Calling the morgue wouldn’t hurt anything, she silently insisted.

  Just as her hand covered the black receiver, the phone rang beneath her palm. She debated letting her service answer it, then decided that the service would only call her and she in turn would only wind up calling back whoever was on the phone now.

  Might as well eliminate the middle man.

  She placed the receiver against her ear. “This is Dr. Pulaski.”

  “Right.” The person on the other end seemed a little flustered, as if searching for the right words. “This is the coroner’s office. We just wanted to let you know that Mr. Donovan’s body has been released.”

  Talk about coincidence, she thought. Now she could finally put Clancy to rest. “I’ll call the funeral parlor right away. They’ll be there to pick him up within the hour.” She refused to refer to Clancy’s body, lifeless or not, as “it.”

  There was another pause on the other end. When he spoke, the man who’d called her sounded just the slightest bit confused. “They already came.”

  She didn’t understand. What was he talking about? “Who came?”

  “The guys from the funeral parlor.” There was a touch of exasperation in the man’s otherwise high-pitched voice. “I’m just calling because I happened to see your name on this paperwork, saying you wanted to be notified when we were through with the autopsy reports. I asked around but nobody called you.”

  “No, nobody called me.” Natalya struggled to hang on to her temper. “What ‘guys’ from the funeral parlor?” she demanded. “And what funeral parlor?” To her best recollection, she hadn’t notified the coroner’s office as to which mortuary she wanted Clancy’s remains sent to. Had the mortuary gotten in touch with the morgue for some reason? It didn’t seem likely. But then, this man was telling her that Clancy’s body had been claimed. Was this some mistake? Had they taken Clancy’s body instead of someone else’s?

  “Wait a sec.” As she listened impatiently, she heard paper being rustled on the other end. “Yes, here it is. Ellis Brothers. Ellis Brothers Mortuary. They sent the hearse.” He cleared his throat a bit nervously. “I didn’t sign for the transport personally, but—”

  She didn’t need to hear any more. “Thank you.” Natalya hung up, incensed. The receiver almost bounced out of the cradle.

  What the hell was going on here? Was this some cruel joke on Tolliver’s part? Or was the man just feeling remorseful over the way he’d treated Clancy?

  Somehow, she doubted it, not after all the things that Clancy had told her about the director. Tolliver didn’t seem like the remorseful type. If anything, he was more like the vengeful type.

  In any case, she was more than fairly certain that Clancy wouldn’t have wanted Ellis Brothers handling the final arrangements for his funeral. He would have rather had her dig a space for him in her parents’ backyard and bury him there next to Tania’s five hamsters than fall into Tolliver’s hands.

  Grabbing her coat and purse, Natalya hurried out of her office. An ironic smile twisted her lips. It looked as if she had to come to Clancy’s rescue one last time.

  Natalya decided to walk to the Ellis Brothers Mortuary, too impatient to wait for a bus or crowded subway car. It took her a little over a half hour to get there.

  Her feet ached. She’d been on them for most of the day, but her indignation pushed all that into the background.

  She didn’t know what to make of the situation. It was possible, she supposed, that Clancy’s mother had had a last-minute change of heart and called the mortuary. If what Clancy had told her about the woman was true, Lucille Donovan had probably whined and begged until Tolliver had finally agreed to do the funeral at a cut rate. And that would be exactly what Clancy would get, cut rate.

  Not if she could help it.

  The rest of her less than sunny mood could be attributed to good-looking police detectives who kissed and disappeared off the face of the earth.

  It irritated her that she hadn’t heard one word from DiPalma. Not that she’d expected any undying protestations of affection, but he had kissed her, and it had been pretty spectacular on her end. Had it been so awful for him that he’d gone into hiding? There were scores of men she’d seen over the years who would beg to differ with him.

  And besides, the detective was supposed to get back to her a
bout her theory that there was something shady going on at Ellis Brothers Mortuary. Had he just been humoring her in order to get her into bed with him, something that had obviously been shelved after he’d kissed and fled.

  Natalya raised her collar as she lengthened her stride and picked up her pace. Her shoulders and elbows were jostled by strangers heading in the opposite direction.

  Maybe fled was a bit strong, she reconsidered. DiPalma had left at a moderate speed on his motorcycle to go to the scene of a crime. But he might as well have fled since she hadn’t heard from him.

  It wouldn’t be bothering her so much, she argued silently, angling her way through the crowd as she crossed the street, if she wasn’t waiting to hear from him about Clancy. After all, Clancy had been murdered.

  She needed a clear head to put together the dressing-down she intended to give Tolliver if it turned out that he’d taken it upon himself to claim Clancy’s body without Mrs. Donovan’s authorization. Even if he was blameless in Clancy’s death, he’d still given Clancy a hard time while he was alive and she held that against the man.

  By the time she arrived at the two-story gray stone building located in the middle of the block, it had begun to mist. Dewlike drops were clinging to her hair and her coat. It did nothing to improve her mood.

  Walking in, Natalya shook off what she could of the rain. A blond receptionist who didn’t look as if she had a thought in the world looked up as Natalya entered the somberly lit foyer.

  Natalya smoothed down her collar and opened her coat. “I’d like to see Mr. Tolliver, please.” A little water from her coat fell on the young woman’s desk. The receptionist made a great show of wiping it away.

  “I’m sorry, but Mr. Tolliver is presently occupied.” She enunciated each word as if she’d memorized it.

  Natalya was too keyed up to just stand quietly in the foyer, waiting for Tolliver to finish and be free. She glanced toward the sign on the door behind the young woman. The name plate read Walter Tolliver. She thought she detected the murmur of voices coming through the door.