Justice for All

by Wayne, Joanna

  The third case involved an aide to city council named Lorna Sinke. The woman had escaped prosecution in the death of her elderly parents when evidence was ruled inadmissible after an improperly executed search warrant. Sinke had been shot in a hostage situation at city hall and died later in the hospital.

  And finally there was Esposito, a scumbag who abducted Mexican children from their families and put them to work as migrant workers. Esposito had died instantly when his small plane had crashed into the ballroom of the Grand Hotel. An investigation had found evidence that someone had deliberately tampered with the plane’s engine.

  Bottom line was that some damned avenger was creating a crime wave of his own and he was doing it right under Max’s nose. That would have been tough if he was still just a detective on the homicide squad. But now that he was chief of police, it was driving him over the edge.

  “Want another beer?” Jake asked, wiping a wet spot off the bar just left of Max’s elbow.

  “Nah. I’ve had enough.”

  “You’ve only had two. It’s Friday night. Live a little.”

  “I’m living, hip hoppin’ big time. Just keeping a low profile so it doesn’t make everyone else jealous.”

  Jake leaned over the bar and stared at the names Max had printed on the napkin. “If you were living, those would be foxes’ names and phone numbers on that wrinkled old napkin, not victims.”

  “Victims are easier to deal with. They don’t expect flowers.”

  “But women have curves and don’t smell like those sweaty cops you were talking to earlier tonight.”

  “Could be, but the cops will still respect me in the morning.”

  “That’s not funny, Max.”

  And not true, either. If the department didn’t solve these murder cases, no one was going to respect him in the morning, least of all himself.

  He glanced at his watch. Nearly 1:00 a.m., and he was still wide-awake. Not much point going back to his empty apartment and tossing around in that king-size bed all by himself. “Okay, Jake, one more beer.”

  “You got it, Max. The night is young. And you see that table of hotties sitting over there sipping margaritas…”

  Max swivelled around on the bar stool and stared at the three young women flirting with a couple of the department’s newer and fortunately unmarried recruits sitting at the table next to them.

  “I see them. Now what?”

  “Hell, Max. Do I have to tell you everything? Send them a drink. Go over and talk to them. You might just get lucky tonight.”

  “I’m old enough to be their father.”

  “But you aren’t their father.”

  “If I was, I’d tell them to stay the hell away from those cops they’re working so hard to pick up. Cops make lousy husbands.”

  Jake shook his head and walked away. By the time he returned with the beer, Max was deep in thought about getting lucky. Luck for him would be arresting the Avenger—before he struck again.

  CALLIE FINISHED WRITING out the orders for a thorough toxicology check on Bernie, handed it to the nurse on duty and walked back to the small cubicle where the patient was stretched out on the examining table. Ordinarily the E.R. doctor who had taken charge of Bernie when he arrived at the hospital would take over at this point, but Callie had decided to be Bernie’s doctor of record since she’d treated him at Mary’s.

  “So how much longer do I have to stay here?” Bernie asked, shifting his weight to his right side and sticking one bare foot from beneath the bleached white sheet.

  “Only about ten more minutes in here, but I’m admitting you to the hospital.”

  “Don’t even think about it.” He waved his hand as if dismissing her last statement. “I can’t stay in the hospital. My business doesn’t run itself.”

  “Which makes it all the more important that you stay here long enough for us to find out what caused your problems tonight.”

  “I know what caused it. Stress. And if I don’t get out of here, the stress will double.”

  “Stress could have brought on tonight’s episode,” she admitted, “but it’s not likely.”

  “It doesn’t matter what caused it. I’m fine now,” he insisted. “I saw my blood pressure reading. It’s 140 over 100. That’s practically normal.”

  “Much closer to normal than it was, but I’d still like to run a few tests, and you need to see a cardiologist.”

  “So, what are we looking at? One day?”

  “Possibly. Maybe more depending on when a cardiologist can see you and what kind of results we get from the tests.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I have to be out of here by Monday morning at the latest.”

  “I say we discuss that after we know more. I’m going to limit the number of visitors you can have to two at a time, fifteen minutes a visit, four times a day. You need to get some rest.”

  “Fine by me. I don’t want people hanging around gawking at me hanging out of this thing.” He pulled on the loose fabric of the hospital gown to make his point.

  She made a few notations on his chart, told him she’d see him in the morning and stepped out the door, shedding her white lab coat as she did.

  “Hey, no one told me they were filming E.R. here tonight. If they had, I would have dressed for the occasion, too.”

  Callie turned to see Mikki McCallister striding toward her. “What are you doing here at this time of night?”

  “One of my darlings started running a high fever and his parents were nervous wrecks. I told them I’d meet them here and check him out.”

  “Have you seen the patient yet?”

  “Just left them. He’s got one of those stubborn viruses that don’t realize they’re supposed to check out after twenty-four hours. He’ll be fine, just needed the special touch of Dr. Mikki—and some glucose. What about you? Did you miss us so much you had to leave the soiree and pay a visit to the emergency room?”

  “You got it. I think it’s the ambiance around here I can’t stay away from. Impatient patients. Harried doctors. And that woman yelling in Room 4 because we won’t keep supplying her with pain pills for her imaginary ailments.”

  “So why are you here?” Mikki asked.

  “One of the guests at the party collapsed and his heart stopped beating. I had to manually pump the chest to get it going again, so I stopped by to check on him.”

  “Heart attack?”

  “Atypical symptoms. It’s possible it was an allergic reaction, maybe to something he ate or drank at the party.”

  “Speaking of food, I’m famished. How about stopping off at the Bar and Grill with me for a burger? You can wow the night crew with your cleavage.”

  “Wowing Jake the bartender. Now why didn’t I think of that?”

  Mikki was talking nonstop, but Callie’s mind stayed on Bernie as they walked to their cars.

  The world would have been a better place if you’d let him die.

  If Jerry Hawkins thought that, then others probably did, too—like the man that both the press and the police dubbed the Avenger. But would a serial killer be crazy enough to attempt murder at a house with nearly a hundred people milling around?

  “Meet you in the bar,” Mikki said, unlocking her car door. “And don’t look so glum. I’m getting strange vibes about the rest of the night. Must have something to do with that knockout dress of yours.”

  “Your vibes should go on Prozac.”

  Callie slid behind the wheel, mindful of the red cocktail dress that slid up to mid thigh when she sat. The dress was a bit more revealing than she usually wore, a splurge purchase on one of her rare trips to Rodeo Drive. She’d loved it on the mannequin and liked it even better on her.

  But hot dress or not, Mikki’s vibes or not, she didn’t expect or want any male attention tonight. Not that she was opposed to dating, but her recent attempts at relationships had been more trouble than they were worth. Her last steady had said she was too intimidating. When she asked what he meant by that, he couldn’t—or
wouldn’t—explain.

  Oh, well. She could live without a man in her life if she had to. She’d done it for the last eight years. Besides, she had Pickering to keep her company. He was always glad to see her and never complained of her long hours or accused her of being intimidating.

  Retrievers were great that way.

  Her cell phone rang before she reached the restaurant. It was Mary, anxious for news of her ill guest.

  MAX FINISHED THE THIRD beer and pulled his wallet from his pocket. “What do I owe you, Jake?”

  “I got your ticket here somewhere.” He turned and searched through the collection behind the bar until he found Max’s bill. “That will be $14.20…Well, well, well, look what just walked in.”

  Max pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and slid it across the bar to Jake before turning to see what new babe had caught the roaming eye of the bartender.

  It was Callie Baker in red—her cinnamon hair framing her youthful face, her long shapely legs set off by the high-heeled sandals. He swallowed hard as a memory of Callie flashed in his mind. A brief encounter that should never have happened.

  But the old memory showed no sign of retreating as Callie waved and started walking in his direction. He should have left a beer ago.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “IS SITTING AT THE BAR OKAY?” Callie asked, once she’d spotted Max. She hadn’t planned to go to him just yet with her suspicions, but since he was here, she’d like to hear his opinions on Bernie Brusco.

  “That’s not a bar stool kind of dress you’re wearing, but it works for me,” Mikki said. “Grab us a seat. I see my one of my firemen buddies standing by the pool table. I want to go over and say hi.”

  “I thought you were famished.”

  “I am. Order me a cheeseburger, loaded, including jalapeños, and add a side of chili fries.”

  “You’re eating hot peppers and chili fries in the middle of the night?”

  “Sure. I’m from Texas. We like it spicy—the hotter the better.”

  “Guess that explains your fondness for firemen.”

  Mikki smiled as she strode off, her long blond hair bouncing about her shoulders. Now that she’d shed her lab coat, she looked more like a teenager than a doctor.

  Callie walked over and stopped at Max’s elbow. “Mind if I join you?”

  “I don’t know.” He gave her outfit an approving once-over. “Is Prince Charming going to show up and demand a duel?”

  “No Prince Charming. I was at a fund-raiser earlier and had to stop back by the hospital. I didn’t bother to change.” She sidled onto the stool next to him.

  “Can’t get away from work even on a Friday night. You’re getting as bad as me.”

  “I tried. Bernie Brusco collapsed at the party. I stopped by the E.R. to check on him.”

  “Is he all right?” Max asked.

  “I think so. Actually it was more serious than a collapse. His heart stopped beating.” She hooked the back of her heels on the rung of the bar stool. “Do you know Bernie?”

  “We haven’t met, but I know who he is and that he bought a house in Jacaranda Heights.”

  “What else do you know about him?”

  “Nothing officially.”

  “How about unofficially?” Callie asked.

  “Like what?”

  “Is he into drug trafficking?”

  “I’m guessing that’s not the occupation he put on his hospital admittance form.”

  “No, but someone at the party seemed convinced it was true.”

  “He’s the kingpin,” Max admitted. “Runs his own little cocaine and crack empire. L.A. police have arrested him several times, but the charges never stick. There’s no sign he’s involved in distribution in Courage Bay, though. Guess he doesn’t want to dirty up his own backyard.” Max rested his elbows on the bar. “Was his collapse drug related?”

  “It’s possible. I ordered a toxicology report.”

  Jake took the order for Callie’s glass of wine and Mikki’s feast.

  “How about you, Chief Zirinsky?” he asked. “Can I get you another beer?”

  Max waved him off. “I’ve had my limit.” He waited until Jake walked away before continuing the discussion. “Any chance he was poisoned?”

  “A chance, but no real reason to suspect it at this point.”

  Max nodded, but she could tell by his expression that the wheels in his mind were still rolling. He thought this might be the work of the Avenger. Not that she hadn’t considered it. In fact, she’d found herself leery of every death or unexplained accident since she’d alerted Max of the suspicious nature of Bruce Nepom’s injuries. Still, she didn’t have any medical information yet to indicate intentional poisoning.

  “There’s a lot of things that could have caused the symptoms, Max. Don’t read too much into this yet.”

  “It’s a waste of time to tell that to a cop on a murder case, Callie. We read too much into everything.”

  “Sounds as if you don’t have any real leads yet on the Avenger.”

  “Try no leads. When will you have the results back on the blood test?”

  “Tomorrow morning. I can call you if you like.”

  “Please do.”

  “The party was at Mary Hancock’s, a very top-drawer affair. I can’t imagine any of the guests capable of serial murder, even in the name of justice.”

  “Wouldn’t have to be a guest who poisoned him,” Max said. “There had to be lots of other people around as well. Caterers, bartenders, food servers, parking attendants, cleanup crew.”

  Jake set Callie’s glass of wine in front of her, and she picked it up and took a long, cooling sip. The talk of murder was getting to her.

  “So what else is going on in your life these days, Dr. Callie Baker?” Max asked, obviously sensing her increasing uneasiness.

  “Mostly work—and taking Pickering for his beach walks.”

  “I guess being chief of staff adds more to your plate.”

  “Some. I’ve stopped taking on new patients for now, but I’m still seeing all my established ones. What about you?”

  “Work, work and more work.”

  “Guess we’re a couple of duds,” Callie said.

  “A dud? Not you, Callie. You make the society section of the local paper at least once a month.”

  “What are you doing reading the society section, Max? You were never interested in the social whirl.”

  “I check out the hot women.”

  “You could have your pick of women in this town, hot or not. You always could.”

  “You think so?”

  “I’m sure of it.” The answer took zero thought. Max was not only good-looking in a rugged sort of way, but smart and honest and—and incredibly tender, though most women probably didn’t know that.

  She hadn’t until the night when…Callie’s thoughts were thankfully interrupted by Mikki’s boisterous arrival.

  “Hey, no food yet? What’s the holdup, Jake?” Mikki took the stool next to Callie’s. “A woman could starve in this place.”

  “Keeping it hot for you,” Jake answered.

  “Max Zirinsky, meet Dr. Mikki McCallister,” Callie said, making the introductions. “Mikki is a pediatrician on staff at the hospital. Max is Courage Bay’s chief of police.”

  The two of them reached across Callie and shook hands just as Jake arrived with the food.

  “I’ll get out of here and let you two party on,” Max said.

  “There’s always room for one more at a party,” Mikki offered.

  “No, we’ve already established I’m a dud.”

  “We did no such thing,” Callie chided. “We only established the fact that you work too much.”

  Max stood and placed a hand on Callie’s shoulder. The touch sent a shiver of awareness shimmying through her system. That’s what she got for letting those old memories creep back into her mind.

  “I’ll call you in the morning,” she said. “Will you be home?”

  “Cal
l my cell.” He picked up a napkin and scribbled the number on it. “It was good seeing you. You look great.”

  “Thanks. You, too.”

  He said a quick goodbye to Mikki, then headed for the door, his cop swagger as pronounced as ever.

  “Did I just break up a magical moment?” Mikki asked.

  “Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “I sensed a sizzle.”

  “No way. Max is an old friend.”

  “Doesn’t look that old to me, and he does great things for a pair of jeans. Terrific butt.”

  “Do you check out every guy that way?”

  “Like you didn’t. I saw you watching him walk off. But I’m more interested in that phone number he scribbled down for you, and the way he was eyeing you when he told you how good you looked. I could feel the heat over here.”

  “That was fumes from the chili.”

  “So, what’s the story on him?”

  “Max is an old friend, just like I said. And my ex’s cousin.”

  “Tell me more.”

  “That’s it. Max and Tony are probably as opposite as two people can be, but they’re kin. And the phone number is so I can let him know about a patient whose symptoms seem a little suspicious.”

  “Playing detective again?”

  “Just being cautious.”

  Mikki picked up her overstuffed burger and somehow got her small mouth opened wide enough to take a chunk out of it. Watching her eat never failed to amaze Callie. Mikki was five-two and couldn’t possibly weigh much over a hundred pounds, but she had the appetite of a teenage boy. And the energy of one as well.

  She was also an excellent pediatrician and very insightful. But this time she’d definitely misread the signs. Max had come to Callie’s rescue once, but he’d backed miles away after that and let her know in silent but certain terms that he had no interest in her as a woman.

  Callie let the memory of being in his arms slip into her mind for one heated second, then pushed it back to the hidden crevice where she planned to leave it.

  CALLIE LOOKED UP when Dr. Alec Giroux tapped on her open office door. “Mind if I come in? I’m bearing gifts, that is, if you can call a toxicology report a gift.”