Her Lawman on Call

by Marie Ferrarella

  “You shouldn’t use either word.” He would have left it at that, except that she looked at him curiously, waiting for an explanation. “I don’t think you’re dull.”

  Her smile made all her features soften and stirred something within him he didn’t welcome disturbed. “Then you obviously have a very low excitement threshold, Detective. I live and breathe my work and my family—not always in that order.”

  Tony knew all about her family. About the parents who had managed to be smuggled out of Krakow, Poland, while that country was still in the grip of communist rule. How Josef and Magda Pulaski had both worked diligently to provide a better way of life for their daughters.

  “Four sisters, all younger, all doctors or almost doctors.” And then he added the part he knew she didn’t expect him to know about. “And each one helps the next in line until that sister graduates. And then it’s on to the next one.” He paused to take a sip of his coffee. And to use the cup to cover the hint of a smile. “You can close your mouth now.”

  She inclined her head. The man really was thorough. Or was that because he’d initially regarded her to be a suspect?

  “You have been doing a lot of research.”

  He shifted the focus away from himself. “Your parents must be very proud.”

  Sasha smiled. “They’ve been known to brag a little,” she allowed. Actually, given half a chance, her father bent every ear that came his way about his daughters’ accomplishments.

  But she had a question of her own for Santini. “If your research is that intense, Detective, what is it you want me to tell you about Lauren James that you don’t already know?”

  That was easy. He wanted her to tell him what he couldn’t find in a report. “What do you think of her?” Before she could answer, he broadened the scope. “What does everyone else think of her?”

  Sasha thought of several conversations she’d overheard, usually after Lauren had come down hard on someone. Or fired one of the staff for some minor infraction.

  She shook her head. “My father taught me not to use words like that at the table.” And then she smiled. “My mother taught me not to use words like that at all, but my father’s way is a compromise.” She could see that the detective was still waiting for some kind of an answer. “Nicely put, no one would have the slightest objection if Lauren was hit by a bus as she was crossing the street. She’s not exactly a people person when it comes to the staff. Her bottom line is profit.”

  “I thought that Our Lady of Patience Memorial was supposed to be a non-profit hospital.”

  She liked the way Santini said the hospital’s full name. Liked, she realized, sitting here, having lunch with him. That wasn’t really a good thing, Sasha reminded herself. Because “like” led to other things. At this point in her life, she was too busy to get involved with anyone and even if she wasn’t, she’d learned her lesson. Being involved meant hurting. Unlike childbirth, this kind of pain was not worth it in the end. Because at the end, there was only heartache.

  She focused on his question. “It is.”

  His eyes narrowed as he tried to comprehend the connection between that and what she’d just said about the administrator. “Then I don’t understand—”

  “There’s profit, and then there’s profit.” Clear as mud, Sash, she mocked herself. “Because PM is non-profit, whatever extra money is accumulated over the course of the year is put into updating equipment, or the facilities, in order to lure prestigious physicians to affiliate themselves with our hospital. We have a reputation as one of the best hospitals in the state.”

  Tony read between the lines. “So she’s on a power trip.”

  It was as good a summation as any. She’d already heard one of the nurses refer to Lauren as Stalin in drag, a remark that had particular meaning for her, given her family background.

  “Something like that,” Sasha agreed. “And there are various ways to gain from being at the helm of a thriving hospital.”

  “Such as?” he asked with interest. He’d known taking the doctor to lunch was a good idea. That he was having certain warm feelings was, in this case, simply collateral damage.

  “Perks that come her way. Things like hard-to-come-by theater tickets and preferential treatment that she wouldn’t have gotten if she wasn’t the administrative head of Patience Memorial.”

  Tony frowned. “Isn’t that unethical?”

  Instead of nodding, Sasha qualified his assumption. “If you get caught.”

  He wasn’t given to winking and looking the other way. But neither was he ready to condemn on hearsay. “These are pretty serious allegations.”

  Sasha knew what he was thinking, could see it in his eyes. One woman out to destroy the reputation of another. That hadn’t been her intent.

  “I’m not being catty, Detective. A few things have come to light recently and several members of the board are looking into the matter. If they don’t like the answers they come up with, Lauren might be in for a very rude awakening soon.”

  “They’d fire her?”

  “In a heartbeat.”

  “Does she know?” If she did, he thought, that might be motive enough to do something drastic. Like damaging the reputation of the hospital that was threatening to put her out. Lauren James didn’t strike him as a woman who agonized over her conscience.

  Lauren didn’t behave as if she knew, Sasha thought. The woman was certainly not going out of her way to make any allies or mend any fences. Still, she was too bright not to know that something was going on. “She might suspect.” Sasha saw a look enter his eyes. “Why?” she wanted to know. “What are you thinking?”

  “That I need to have another talk with Ms. James.”

  Sasha second-guessed him. She shook her head. “She’s not your killer.”

  Tony banked down his amusement. Everyone was an armchair detective these days, he thought. “What makes you say that?”

  “Because the sight of blood makes Lauren immensely queasy. I once had to give her several stitches because she cut her hand on a broken vase. Lauren passed out before I could prick her skin.”

  The story aroused his curiosity. “I thought you dealt mainly with, um, the other end,” he finally said politely.

  “I happened to be in her office when she cut her hand.” She had never believed in standing on the sidelines when she could help. She hadn’t been raised that way. “Seemed like the thing to do at the time.”

  He nodded, but he had already made up his mind. For all he knew, the murders had been committed to embarrass the administrator. Sideways thinking was the norm rather than the exception. “I’m still going to have another talk with her. In this job, you never know when a stray comment might lead to something that solves the case.”

  She would imagine that there were an incredible amount of pieces for him to consider and sift through. Sasha finished her coffee and set down the cup. “Your head must ache from all those pieces that you’re trying to fit together.”

  “I manage.” His tone gave nothing away as he watched her eyes, wondering where, if anywhere, she was going with this.

  She trod lightly, but as a doctor, she felt obligated to point out certain things. “Drinking only intensifies headaches.”

  Tony looked at her, surprised at her comment. Surprised, too, that she should feel free to make it. Because the job had kept him on the move these last three weeks, there hadn’t been any extra time to dwell on the black hole in his personal life that was eating him up alive. Because he was disciplined, he made sure he was always sober while working. He hadn’t taken a drink in three weeks.

  “What makes you mention drinking?” he wanted to know. There was an edge to his voice.

  Her father had warned her more than once that she was too fearless. That she didn’t allow conventions to hold her back. “That first night, you were hungover.”

  He drank vodka for a reason. Vodka left no telltale scent to give him away. And he prided himself on being able to navigate like a lifetime teet
otaler. But he hated lies and stayed clear of them whenever possible. So he didn’t bother pretending that she was imagining things.

  Maybe he even had something to learn here. “So, what gave me away?”

  It wasn’t his behavior. It was more instinct on her part. “There was something in your eyes. Something not quite in sync.”

  Okay, he’d give her that, although he was pretty certain that he kept a lid on his thoughts and what little there was left of his emotions.

  “Didn’t have to be alcohol,” he pointed out.

  “No, it didn’t,” she agreed. “But whatever had you out of sync, you were trying to block it out with alcohol.”

  He regarded her for a long moment. “Lady, you’re beginning to spook me.” He didn’t believe in clairvoyants, but he was willing to concede that there were people who were more intuitive than others. “Maybe you should be working on our side.”

  “I am on your side,” she told him quietly. And then, because she felt she needed to explain what had given her insight into his situation, she said, “My fiancé had a cousin who tried to drown his sorrows with more than his share of Scotch. The result was the same. The sorrows didn’t go away, but he very nearly did.”

  Tony had heard only one thing. “Your fiancé?” The background check he’d conducted made no mention of her having anyone in her life who wasn’t directly related to her by blood. He glanced at her left hand. There was no ring there, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. “You’re engaged?”

  Sasha caught her lower lip between her teeth. Damn, how had that slipped out? Maybe because she still felt, even though he was gone, that Adam was still part of her life. “I was.”

  Was. He had no idea why the tension in his neck seemed to lessen. It was best not to go to places like that. “What happened? He have trouble competing with your career?”

  “He had trouble competing with a mugger’s gun,” she corrected him quietly. She saw mild surprise flicker across the detective’s face. Well, she’d come this far, she might as well tell him the rest of it. “Adam was killed trying to keep the man from stealing my engagement ring.” She couldn’t bring herself to look at it after he’d died so she sold it and donated the money to Adam’s favorite charity, where it could do some good. “It was in a parking structure very similar to the one at PM,” she added.

  Tony took in the information, not knowing what to say, other than, “I’m sorry.”

  She tried to force a faint smile of gratitude to her lips and failed. “Me, too.”

  He understood now why she’d looked so shaken, so pale when he’d first met her. As a doctor, she was accustomed to blood, to life and occasionally, to death. But if the scene brought back personal memories, that was a completely different story.

  Tony watched her push away her salad. There was still some left in the bowl. “I’ve made you lose your appetite.”

  She detected a note of self-reproach and was quick to absolve him of any guilt. “The spinach wasn’t all that fresh.”

  He studied her face for a long moment. “You know, I’m not sure if, as an OB-GYN you’d know this, but if you lie, your nose grows.”

  The man had a sense of humor after all, she thought. It made her relax a little. Sasha raised her chin. “And is it?”

  He looked so serious when he cocked his head, studying her, that for a moment she thought he was actually trying to verify whether her nose was growing.

  “Hard to tell in this light,” he finally said. She laughed and he nodded his approval. “That’s better.” Debating, he allowed himself to relate to her on a personal plateau, eschewing the danger of that. “I didn’t mean to drag up any bad memories.”

  “You didn’t.” This time, she did smile. “All my memories of Adam are good ones.”

  He understood what she meant. That was the way he felt about his wife. There was a song she’d loved, “It Had To Be You,” an old number from the thirties or so. One of the lyrics in it seemed to fit. “And even be glad, just to be sad, thinking of you.” There were days that thoughts of Annie were the only things that kept him going.

  He saw the doctor drop her napkin on the tray and then rise. She picked up the tray, ready to clear it away. “I’d better be getting back to my office,” she told him. “Thank you for lunch.”

  “I enjoyed the company.”

  Tony hardly remembered rising to his feet, his own tray in his hand. He hadn’t expected to say that when he’d opened his mouth. He’d expected to hear himself say something innocuous, like “you’re welcome,” or “maybe I’ll see you.” This was much too personal and revealing.

  After a beat, Sasha nodded. The small smile widened just a touch. “So did I.”

  Whatever else she might have said was interrupted by the insistent buzz emitted by his pager. With a sigh, Tony placed his tray back on the table and reached for the device clipped to his belt. He barely had to glance at it. The number on the screen was all too familiar.

  Sasha didn’t know whether to linger, or take the opportunity to drop off her tray on the conveyor belt and leave. Quickly. She didn’t like what she was feeling. Attraction. It was crackling between them whenever she was near the detective. She wanted no crackling, no curiosity, no nothing.

  She wanted dullness. The dullness that did not interfere with the rest of her life.

  Whatever arguments she used on herself, she was still hanging back, watching him take out his cell phone and press a button that connected him to whoever was paging him.

  She listened, thinking that perhaps it had something to do with finding Angela and Rachel’s killer. Telling herself that it had nothing to do with gathering a few extra moments in the detective’s company.

  Sasha placed her tray next to his and began to combine the two, moving the plates and utensils onto one tray, then stacking it on top of the other. It bought her a few seconds. Long enough to hear him say, “This is Santini,” into the cell phone.

  The voice on the other end was male, but that was about all she could distinguish. The words were not clear enough for her to hear.

  “You’d better get up here, partner,” Henderson said to him.

  “Where’s ‘here’?” Tony wanted to know.

  He heard Henderson sigh. “Seventh floor.” He paused, as if for dramatic effect. “One of the cleaning crew just found an orderly.”

  “And?” Tony pressed, waiting for the rest of it.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the doctor was still there and that she was obviously listening to his side of the conversation. Annoyance would have been his usual response, but he found he didn’t feel any.

  “And the orderly was stuffed into the supply closet at the time. Tony, the guy had a hole in his forehead and the same note in his hand.”

  Adrenaline shot through Tony’s veins. This just kept getting better and better. “Secure the area,” he told Henderson.

  “Already done. I was going to call for backup, but I thought you’d want me to call you first.”

  “You thought right, Henderson. Now call for backup.” Tony closed his phone. The doctor was still watching his every move, the trays still in her hands.

  “Back up, why back up?” she asked the moment he ended the call. “Did your partner find a suspect?”

  His expression was sober. “No, just another body.”

  She stared at him, her eyes widening in horror. This was a nightmare, Sasha thought. The halls of PM were being stalked by a serial killer. “Another nurse?”

  He shook his head. “Not this time. Henderson said it was an orderly.”

  “An orderly?” she echoed. This was making less and less sense. Now it looked as if someone had it in for the hospital. Sasha suddenly realized that Santini was walking away from her. “I’m coming with you,” she called, hurrying after him.

  Sasha paused only long enough to throw the combined trays onto the conveyor belt, then she quickened her pace to catch up to him.

  Tony held one of the swinging door
s open for her. “I thought you had patients to see.”

  She darted across the threshold. “Not until two o’clock. I was going to catch up on dictation,” she told him. “But there’s nothing there that won’t keep.” Her hand covered her own pager, praying that no baby would suddenly decide to come out and see the world in the next forty minutes.

  He gave her a glance that would have frozen others in mid-step. It had no such effect on the doctor.

  “This isn’t exactly according to the rules,” Tony said tersely as they strode up the corridor to the elevators.

  “Neither is death,” she answered quietly, afraid that her voice might carry. There was no telling who might be turning the corner and overhear her.

  She had him there, Tony thought. He supposed it would do no harm to let her come along.

  The irony of the phrase he’d just used wasn’t lost on him. But maybe the doctor knew the victim and could give him a jump-start on gathering information. So far, she seemed to know everyone who worked here.

  He wondered, as they rode up the elevator, since he’d already decided to talk to the administrator if it would be worth his while to corner Lauren James about this latest development. He and Henderson were going to have to start looking into recently terminated, disgruntled employees.

  Most of all, he wondered, as he glanced in her direction, why he was really letting the doctor talk her way into coming along.

  Chapter 7

  Jorge Lopez was a slight man. In his late twenties and a former gang member with an arrest record, the diminutive orderly was finally getting his life together and headed in the proper direction. His job at Patience Memorial was only one of two he held down while going to school at night in order to get his G.E.D. He wanted, he’d confided to the pretty social worker he’d just begun seeing, to make something of himself.

  And now, Sasha thought, heartsick as she looked at the prone body that had been discovered less than half an hour ago in the supply room, Jorge was never going to get the chance.