“Then by all means come in. It’s not often I have an E.R. doctor stop in to deliver lab reports.”
“Just brown nosing the chief of staff,” Alec said.
“Nice try, but you buck me on too many issues for me to buy that. So what’s up?”
Alec handed her the lab printout. “I’d walked over to the lab to pick up a report on one of my patients, and the technician brought Bernie Brusco’s results to my attention.”
“Why is that?”
“His results look a lot like those of the teenager we lost in E.R. last week.”
“The ephedra overdose?”
He nodded. “There was a notable amount of ephedra in Bernie’s bloodstream as well, along with a trace of cocaine and considerably more than a trace of alcohol.”
She scanned the report. “That would explain his symptoms.”
“You don’t look or sound surprised.”
“I’ve heard that Bernie runs his own drug empire in Los Angeles, so I’m not too shocked that he had the cocaine in his system. He could be selling ephedra, too, since the FDA pulled products containing it from the shelves.”
“If he’s in the biz, he should have known better than to mix and match volatile drugs.”
“You’d think. I’ll talk to Max Zirinsky and make him aware of the similarity in the two cases.”
“Good idea. And I’ll get back to the E.R. Never know what a Saturday morning might bring.”
“Just be thankful we’re not dealing with a heat wave like the one we had last summer.”
“Amen. Never want a summer like that again. A heat wave and a deadly viral epidemic.”
An epidemic that had hit Alec particularly hard, since his daughter had almost died from the virus. “How are Cameron and Stacy?” she asked.
“They’re great. And Janice has become quite the mother. She’s an amazing woman.”
He smiled broadly and Callie felt just the tiniest twinge of envy. Alec’s first marriage had been just as big a mistake as hers, but he’d found love again and seemed incredibly happy. Not that Callie wasn’t happy. Nor did she have time for a family and children—even if she had been able to have them. A fast growing tumor three years ago had resulted in a hysterectomy.
“Tell Janice hello for me,” she said, pushing the unexpected thoughts of family and kids aside.
“Will do.”
Callie scanned the lab report again when Alec left, then slipped into her doctor’s coat for a personal visit with her patient. Bernie was lucky to be alive, but there was no indication the Avenger had tried to kill him. Looked more like Bernie was trying to save the killer the trouble and do the job himself.
Callie took the elevator up to Bernie’s room. The door was open a crack and she heard his boisterous voice and a woman’s laughter echoing down the hallway. She tapped lightly on the door before stepping inside.
Mary Hancock stopped laughing and backed away from the bed. “Good morning, Callie. I promise I’m not tiring out the patient. I just came by to check on him and bring him a fruit basket.”
“A bit of cheery company won’t hurt him, as long as he doesn’t overdo it.”
Callie spied the fruit basket on the table in the corner of the room. It was covered in cellophane, tied with a gold bow and filled with mangos, avocados, peaches, kiwi and pomegranates, with an impressive pineapple in the middle. The basket was almost as colorful and flamboyant as the bearer.
Mary was one of Callie’s patients. At sixty-one, Mary could have easily passed for fifteen years younger. Money for surgery and the right clothes to flatter her petite figure probably took a lot of credit for that, but it was Mary’s vivacious personality that added the youthful pizzazz.
Callie pulled the chart at the foot of Bernie’s bed. His vitals were back to normal except for a slightly elevated systolic reading. “How are you feeling this morning, Mr. Brusco?”
“Terrific and ready to get out of the hospital. Like I told you, it was just stress. A good night’s rest did the trick.”
Bernie scooted up higher on his pillow, tugging on the hospital gown so that it didn’t pull around the neck. “Thanks for coming by, Mary. And don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine,” he said, dismissing his visitor.
“Good. When you’re feeling better, I’ll teach you to do the tango correctly.”
“With these two left feet?”
They both laughed and Mary said a quick goodbye to Callie before exiting. Mary was obviously fond of Bernie. Callie seriously doubted she knew how the man made his living or that he did drugs himself.
Courage Bay was a few miles and a world away from Los Angeles. In spite of a growing population, the city had a small-town attitude, and people tended to trust one another to be who and what they purported to be. She’d hate to see Mary hurt by a man like Bernie.
“Guess you have the results of the blood work,” Bernie said, once Mary was out of the room.
“Just got it back from the lab a few minutes ago.”
“Then you know I had a little cocaine in my system.”
She nodded.
“I hope you won’t get the wrong idea. It’s not like I’m an addict or anything. You know how it is up in Los Angeles. You go with the boys, you sniff a little to be sociable. I won’t even do that again after what happened last night.”
“You had cocaine, alcohol and dangerous levels of an illegal stimulant in your system. That’s a pretty lethal mix. You’re lucky to be alive this morning.”
Bernie narrowed his eyes. “What stimulant?”
A strange question, Callie thought. He’d readily admitted the cocaine, so why not the stimulant? “Ephedra,” she said. “A much larger dose than if you’d taken it as a dietary supplement.”
“Ephedra.” He repeated the word, then drew his lips together and nodded as if he were figuring out a mystery. “You’re sure about that?”
“Very sure. Don’t you remember taking it?”
“My recollection of last night’s activities are not too keen.”
That was believable, yet he remembered the party and the cocaine.
He sat up straighter. “You know, Doc, pretty as you are and as nice as the nurses are treating me, I need to get out of here today.”
“I recommend you stay until Monday.”
“Nothing personal, Doc, but I’ve got urgent business to take care of. I have to be back in Los Angeles by Monday morning.”
“Then at least stay one more night.”
He drew his lips into a slight scowl. “One more night, but that’s it, no matter what any new tests show.”
“It’s your choice.”
“Thanks, Doc. For last night and for looking in on me today.”
“You’re welcome, but I can only do so much. The real responsibility for taking care of yourself rests with you.”
“Don’t I Know it.”
She made a couple of notations on his chart, slipped it back in place, then told him she’d see him later.
“You’re sure about the ephedra?” he asked as she headed for the door.
“I’m sure.”
She hurried to the elevator, eager to go back to her office and call Max with the findings. She had no proof at all, but she had a strong hunch that Bernie didn’t knowingly take the ephedra. Which meant the Avenger may well have been at Mary’s party, armed with the stimulant that had almost killed Bernie Brusco.
MAX PICKED CALLIE UP in front of the hospital at ten after twelve, determined to have no recurrence of the lust that had blindsided him last night, lingering long after he’d crawled into his bed. No way could he play in Callie’s league. He probably couldn’t even get a job as bat boy.
“Have you had lunch?” Max asked, trying not to notice that she looked as ravishing in the pale gray slacks and the yellow cotton blouse as she had in the dynamite dress last night.
“I haven’t even had breakfast,” she said.
“Then we might as well eat while we talk, unless you’d rather not.”
>
“Lunch sounds good.”
“So where’s your preference?” Max asked.
“Somewhere outside. It’s much too gorgeous to be stuck indoors.”
“How about Grady’s?”
“Perfect.”
It would be if they were only going there to eat instead of to discuss a possible link to a vengeful killer who’d outsmarted Max at every turn. Grady’s was on the beach and had a large covered deck where patrons had a great view of the bay and could listen to the sounds of the surf. On most days there were enough surfers in the area to provide a side show as well.
Callie gave him the results of the lab report and Bernie’s reaction on the drive over. By the time the waitress showed them to a table in the back corner of the deck, possibilities were already streaming though his mind.
“So what’s your take on this?” Callie asked, once they’d put in their drink order and had been given a menu.
“I think your hunch could be right. Ephedra doesn’t seem the kind of drug a man like Bernie would mess around with, not with all the serious drugs he has at his disposal. Besides, kingpins like Bernie are rarely big-time users. They need to keep their minds clear to run the business.”
Which meant it was very possible someone at Mary Hancock’s party slipped the stimulant into his food or drink. If it was the Avenger, and if he was in fact at the party last night, this might be the best lead Max had had since the killing spree started.
“There are a lot more common and probably more effective substances a killer could have used,” Callie said. “What would make him choose something like ephedra?”
“Any number of reasons. Availability, personal experience, or he may have gotten the idea from the media attention surrounding the death of the high school student.”
“That makes sense,” Callie admitted.
“If you hadn’t been there and Bernie had died of the presenting symptoms, would his death have been classified a heart attack?”
“Quite possibly.”
The waitress returned with Max’s coffee and Callie’s raspberry iced tea. Max ordered a cheeseburger without even glancing at the menu. Callie decided on the fresh green salad topped with lump crab meat and avocado, dressing on the side.
Another glaring difference between them, Max noted. His taste buds were partial to the routine. Callie’s went for more sophisticated fare.
Callie rolled a finger over the condensation on her glass. “If Bernie thinks someone tried to kill him, surely he’ll go to the police.”
“I wouldn’t count on that. A guy like Bernie’s more likely to seek out his own revenge.” Just what Courage Bay and Max needed. An avenger out to get the Avenger. Sounded like a bad Hollywood script, and even thinking about it gave Max a headache.
They fell silent when the waitress brought the food. But not talking was not necessarily a good thing when he was sitting across a small table from Callie, Max acknowledged. It left him too much time to notice the delicate softness of her hands as she forked bites of salad to her full, pink lips. Too much time to admire the way her breasts pushed against the fabric of her blouse. Too much time to remember the way her body had felt pressed against his.
“What do we do, Max?”
The question flustered him for a second before he realized she wasn’t reading his mind and referring to the incriminating thoughts he was entertaining. “You’ve done your part. It’s up to me to try to make sense of it all.”
“I don’t think I have done my part.”
He didn’t like the sound of that or the look in her eyes right now. “I appreciate the heads-up on this, Callie, but don’t even think about getting involved in the investigation.”
“Why not? I was standing a few feet away from Bernie when he collapsed. And the hostess is a friend of mine.”
“If the Avenger is involved in this, and I’m not even suggesting that he is, we’re talking about a man who’s killed at least four people and tried to kill Bernie. He’s smart and he’s dangerous.”
“And needs to be stopped.”
“Right. By the cops. Not by beautiful doctors with no experience in law enforcement.”
“I wasn’t planning to start carrying a gun and beating the bushes for the killer.”
“Good. Don’t talk to Mary about this, either, or anyone else who was at the party.”
As he dipped a French fry into a pool of ketchup, it struck Max that this was the first time he’d had lunch with a woman other than the cops on his force in longer than he cared to remember. And he was sitting here giving orders and talking about murder. “I say we drop the subject,” he suggested. “It’s bad for the digestive system.”
“Okay, but I still think I could help with the investigation.”
They stopped talking until they finished eating. “So,” Callie said, dabbing the napkin to the corner of her lips, “what does the chief of police do for fun on gorgeous Saturday afternoons?”
“Does doing the laundry count as fun?”
She groaned. “Tell me you’re joking.”
“Of course. That’s just the warm-up. It’s stopping at the market for TV dinners that really gets my juices pumping. And let me guess. What does the chief of staff at Courage Bay Hospital do? Loll away her hours at the yacht club? Go sailing? Shop for dresses like that sexy little number you had on last night?”
“I’m sailing with friends this afternoon, but every other Saturday I volunteer at the Keller Center. It’s a facility that provides housing and medical care for indigent women in their last trimester of pregnancy. Not really what I’d classify as fun, but extremely satisfying.”
Her involvement in the center surprised him, though he didn’t know why it should. One of the things that had driven her and his cousin apart had been the fact that she chose to work at a clinic in a low income area after completing her residency instead of accepting a very lucrative and prestigious position with a doctor in private practice in Beverly Hills.
The silence grew awkward. It was one of the few times Max envied guys who could make meaningless small talk. Start him on any murder he’d ever investigated and he could talk your ear off. Football, basketball, baseball. Hit him with any of those and he could jump right in. But ask for small talk with a woman and he’d trip right over his tongue.
The waitress stopped by and offered coffee or dessert, but Callie refused both. She was ready to go. Who could blame her? Max pulled a few bills from his money clip and slipped them under the ticket, then stood up to leave.
Callie took a phone call on the drive back and spent the entire trip discussing a cancer patient whose insurance company didn’t want to pay for an experimental drug the physician in charge wanted to use. She broke the connection as he pulled into the circular driveway in front of the hospital.
“I enjoyed lunch, Max. We should do it more often.”
“Sounds good.”
The smile she gave him ricocheted around inside him like one of those balls in a lottery draw.
“You take care,” Max said, anxious to be off and have his reawakened emotions fade back into oblivion. A chief of police didn’t need emotions. Just brains and guts.
“I hope I helped.” She hesitated as if she wanted to say more, then opened the door and climbed out. One last wave and she was gone. Max started the engine and took a deep breath, ready to feel the relief seep into his mind.
It didn’t.
At the end of the driveway he turned left and headed down to headquarters. He didn’t know if Bernie was one of the Avenger’s victims or not, but four others were. And if he didn’t find the guy and get him off the streets soon, there would be a fifth. It was only a matter of time.
BERNIE LEFT THE HOSPITAL Sunday afternoon. He didn’t need a specialist to tell him his heart was pumping. Didn’t need anyone to tell him that someone had tried to kill him Friday night, either.
Nothing surprising in that. There were lots of people who’d be glad to see him turn up dead. He just hadn’t expect
ed them to be attending a society function in Courage Bay. He’d have to start watching his back every minute, no longer just when he was on his L.A. turf.
He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and stepped onto his back deck. The view of the Pacific Ocean was breathtaking, worth every penny of the exorbitant price of the house. More than his mother had made in a lifetime of backbreaking work cleaning other women’s houses.
She’d even died in one, mopping someone else’s dirty floors. The hurt dug into him, felt like a buzzard’s claws piercing his heart. He’d thought if he made enough money, if he insinuated himself into the lives of wealthy people like the ones who’d once hired his mother to clean their houses, he’d vindicate her suffering and eradicate the pain.
One day it might, but it hadn’t happened yet.
He walked across his yard, stepped out the gate of his security fence and headed toward the edge of the steep precipice. Using his hand to shade his eyes from the sun, he looked down at the churning waves beating against the outcropping of jagged rocks.
A flash of heat and pain hit the back of his head. That was the last thing he was aware of as he toppled over the edge of the cliff and plunged to the rocks below.
CHAPTER THREE
IT WAS A HELL OF A TIME for his chief of detectives to be attending a terrorist training session with the CIA in Washington D.C., Max decided as he drove away from the scene of Courage Bay’s latest murder. Not only was Adam Guthrie out of town, but Flint Mauro, his new assistant chief, was still on his honeymoon. Either of them would have been perfect to head up the latest murder investigation.
Who was he kidding? As much as he’d like to have Adam and Flint around to team up with, Max had no intention of taking just a supervisory role with this case. This latest murder might be connected to the Avenger, and that was more than he could stomach.
The Avenger’s days were numbered. It was no idle threat. Not even a warning. It was just plain fact.
The TV newsmen were waiting when Max skidded to a stop in his private parking spot at police headquarters. The whole lot were insatiable vultures, but he didn’t doubt for a second that he’d be just as persistent were he a newsman instead of a cop. He just never understood how bad news traveled so fast.
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