A Dose of Murder

by Lori Avocato

  He finished his coffee and looked across the room. I turned to follow his gaze.

  Jagger was sitting with Eddy Roden.

  This was getting confusing. “What does this Jagger do?”

  Nick looked back to me. “You would have been better off to go with the ‘What’s a Jagger’ question,” he commented.

  “Why would he be here to see Eddy? You don’t suppose they are friends?”

  “Jagger only has enemies.”

  Yikes! “But they’re talking as if they didn’t just meet.” I could see Eddy grinning, leaning near as if telling Jagger some private joke. Eddy was sleazy. I remembered him as being nerdier in nursing school. He got up and walked toward the door.

  “Go tell your buddy goodbye.”

  “What?” At first I thought he was talking about Jagger. Then I realized he wanted me to talk to Eddy for the case. I took my empty tray in my hand and forced myself to stand after making sure Jagger was still in his seat.

  Our eyes met. Damn!

  Talk about looking through someone. No, talk about mentally stripping someone. Okay, that was me trying real hard to strip Jagger. His eyes were boring into me. I turned away and still looking at him, tripped on something—and smacked right into Vance.

  “Pauline? What are you doing here?”

  Seven

  “What am I doing here? What am I doing here?” Over Vance’s shoulder I could see Nick staring at me. When I turned away, I caught Jagger’s glare.

  “What am I doing here?”

  Vance looked annoyed. I’ve seen that look many times, so it didn’t take any special skills to read his body language. “Yes, Pauline. You’re acting weird. What are you doing here?”

  “I … came to see you, silly.” Good one!

  Vance looked suspicious. “You came to have lunch with me?”

  I looked down at my tray. There sat my empty salad dish and empty water cup. “I wanted to surprise you.” I’m a master of that emotion today. “Yeah. I … see ? I have a dish ready to get a salad and cup of water too. I could only guess at the time when you’d get to have lunch, so, here I am.” I swung around to see if Eddy had left.

  Whew. He had. All I needed was him coming over to ask why I was eating a second lunch. Despite Vance being the flustered one now, he followed me to the lunch line, where I got a second salad—low-cal dressing this time—and another cup of water. I looked back at the table to see Nick was gone.

  Well, he did say he had some business to attend to.

  So much for my surveillance lesson today.

  Across the room I saw Jagger get up and walk toward the tray return. Good. All I’d have to do was chitchat with the Doc, then get in my car and head over to Tina’s. Headstrong Polack that I am, I decided I could do a bit on my own again. I refused to think about what a bust my first trip to Tina’s had been.

  After my second glass of water met up with all the coffee, I did, in fact, have to excuse myself from the table. Vance was used to that, and I wasn’t the least bit embarrassed with him. After you’ve slept with someone, you don’t worry about potty breaks. He was about done anyway. “It was nice having lunch with you. I have to get back to work. See you.”

  As I grabbed my tray, he added, “Maybe we can do dinner again this weekend.”

  I sucked in a breath and thought of Jagger and Nick. “Yes, I’ll need that… . Dinner, that is.” I scurried toward the door. The cafeteria was bustling with employees and patients now. When I pushed the elevator button, the doors opened immediately. I didn’t stop to look behind in case Vance had followed me. Instead, I plowed headfirst into the elevator—and smack-dab into—Jagger.

  I’ve never fainted in my life, but sure as hell tried to right then.

  Still coherent, I heard the doors close behind me and turned to see that no other soul had gotten in. Damn. You are a professional, Pauline, I scolded myself. So, I pushed myself away from his granite chest and stood tall. Well, as tall as my five six could get, next to what had to be his six three. Suddenly my urge to pee dried up. “Sorry.”

  He nodded.

  Good. Maybe we could get to the ground floor in silence. I yanked at my hair to help hide my face in case he might recognize me. Then I shut my eyes for a second and asked Saint Theresa to have the elevator get down in warp speed.

  The damn thing stopped!

  My eyes flew open. I knew that not enough time had elapsed to get to the ground floor. There stood Jagger—with his hand on the emergency stop button.

  Guess Saint Theresa was busy.

  Okay, I know all prayers are not answered and there’s always a good reason. If this guy was going to attack me in the elevator—that may be good reason enough.

  “What were you doing outside Macaluso’s house?”

  Not even a “Hi, I’m Jagger.” I leaned back and decided he was too mysterious to want to have sex with—in person, that is. Being practical, I decided I’d stick with fantasizing about him. “I … What were you doing there?” When in doubt repeat a question or at least confuse the hell out of your attacker. Truthfully, I didn’t consider Jagger an attacker. Not physically, at least. Not since Adele and Nick knew him. I’ll bet Goldie did too. Besides, as mysterious as he appeared, he didn’t seem like a wacko or a threat.

  “I asked first.”

  I was tempted to say, “So what?” but decided not to get into an argument. The guy looked as if he was packing. Not that I knew much about that, but I knew a bulge like that in his jacket wasn’t from a wallet. Maybe I was a natural at this job. The observation part anyway—thanks to my nursing skills. I tried to ignore my heart racing and my fingers tap dancing against my sides.

  He stood, waiting.

  I couldn’t say I was on a case. There had to be some rule that an investigator had to remain anonymous, so I said, “I went to school with Tina.” Besides, he must know Eddy, and if I said what I was doing, he could tell Eddy, and Eddy could tell Tina. Then I’d be out of my payment. I thought about that as I continued to examine his appearance.

  He had to work out to have pecs like that. Even with a jacket on, I could tell the guy was built. There was some magnetism kicking in. One exercise fanatic to another.

  Jagger looked at me. His left eyebrow rose. His teeth gritted, and I think he growled. “What the hell does that have to do with you sitting outside her house watching her shovel?”

  “Good question.” A bead of sweat trickled down my cheek. Suddenly I realized it wasn’t because of my infatuation with this guy. The elevator wasn’t moving. In my sexual fantasy about Jagger I’d momentarily forgotten my phobia—claustrophobia. My pulse sped even more. My gut tightened, sending much-needed blood to my vital organs to keep me alive during an anxiety attack. But feeling the elevator at a standstill with the door shut, I felt as if those vital organs would explode.

  That thought about fainting was getting all too real.

  There was no air in here. Well, no fresh air. A ringing started in my left ear, and then collided in the center of my brain. I tried to take a deep breath. No luck.

  “You all right?”

  My hands started to tremble more. The sweat now poured down my cheeks. I felt cold, then flushed. Then cold again. My heart had to be hitting the inside of my chest, at the speed it was going.

  “Hey. I asked if you were …”

  Suddenly his arms were around me. The elevator darkened, spun, and then winked out.

  “We’re on the ground floor.”

  The voice floated on a current of air. A deep, sexier-than-hell voice. I felt a hand brush the hair from my clammy forehead. It felt nice, I thought, as I tried to open my eyes.

  A man stood above me. Not just any man.

  Jagger.

  The elevator door was open. I looked from him to the lobby and realized I was on the carpeted floor of the elevator.

  “Here.” He took my shoulders and lifted me to a sitting position. “Take a few deep breaths.”

  I nodded and did. A musky aftershave
hit my nostrils. I turned to look into his eyes. Where I’d seen specs in Nick’s, there were none noticeable in the darkness of Jagger’s.

  “Let’s get you up and out into the fresh air. You’re not pregnant, are you?”

  I looked at him as if he were nuts, and started to say “I’ve only slept with Doctor Taylor about twice a year and he uses the most expensive condoms,” but decided it was none of Jagger’s business and merely shook my head. A crowd had gathered around the elevator.

  “Diabetic?”

  “What?” He hoisted me up, held my arm and walked me toward the door.

  “Diabetic. Are you a diabetic? Have epilepsy? Some other illness?”

  “What is this? Some verbal physical exam?” My cheeks flushed when he looked at me. His hand rubbed low on my back.

  “I’m only trying to figure out what happened back there.”

  Oh God. I’d either have to lie about having a physical disease in which case God might see fit to actually giving me one or tell the truth. Pauline Sokol, good Catholic girl. “You caused it.”

  Jagger let out a deep howl of a laugh. By now he’d opened the door and a cool blast of air hit us. Felt wonderful, yet I shivered since my hair was damp.

  “I believe that’s the first time a woman has fainted over me—that I know of.”

  I pushed away. “This woman fainted because you locked her in a closed … elevator—”

  “Christ.” He looked genuinely sorry, mixed with a little pissed. At himself, I was guessing. “You passed out because I stopped the elevator?”

  “Everyone has a phobia. I’ll bet even you do.” Not in a million years did I believe that.

  He leaned near in a naughty-boy sort of way and grinned. “When you discover what it is, let me know.”

  I pushed past him. “I have to go.”

  He grabbed my arm. “Not so fast.”

  Oh, no. He was going to pursue the questioning he’d started on the elevator. My heart thudded at the thought of the closed, stopped elevator.

  “I’m not letting you drive after passing out.”

  Hmm. Compassion.

  And no further questions.

  “I’m fine,” I insisted, shivering outside in the parking lot.

  Jagger cursed under his breath. “Look, lady. By the way, what’s your name?”

  Wow. I knew his name, but he didn’t know mine. Still, with the tone he used, he didn’t seem truly interested.

  “Pauline. Pauline Sokol.”

  He held out a hand. “Jagger.”

  “I kn—” Shit! He couldn’t know that I knew his name. Then he’d ask too many questions. Then I’d seem interested in him. Then he’d know someone had told me about him.

  He raised an eyebrow at me.

  I forgot he used to be a PI. The guy had to be perceptive. More than likely, he already knew my name.

  “You what?”

  “Nothing. Nice to meet you, Mister Jagger.” I held out my hand.

  He shook it, then, “Just Jagger.”

  I pulled my hand back. “Fine. I am fine too, and very capable of driving myself home.” I had no intention of going home though. I’d go see if Tina was home, shoveling or doing something else I could catch her at.

  “Look, Pauline. It’s my fault you conked out. I’m responsible for getting you home. What if you pass out driving?”

  I didn’t want to remind him that the cause was claustrophobia. Too damn embarrassing. Shoot. Didn’t seem I had much choice. Truthfully, I wasn’t feeling myself yet. Wooziness had a habit of hanging on once one passes out, it seemed. This was news to me, since I’d never passed out before. “I’ll call a cab. You must be busy. Don’t you have to get back to work?” Good one. Maybe I could find out more about the enigmatic Jagger.

  “Don’t worry. Get in.” He motioned toward the black Suburban.

  Go for it, Pauline.

  I waited a few seconds to see if he’d open the door. He was already in his seat. So, I opened the door, got in and discreetly looked around. “You live in here?”

  The SUV was filled with stuff. Boxes in the backseats, stuff on the floor. Papers, bags, T-shirts. Man. Despite the amount of stuff, it did seem orderly. Not as if he threw stuff around randomly.

  He turned toward me. There was no humor in his eyes. “I work out of here.”

  “Wow. I work out of my car too.” Pauline! Why did I have to say that? My honesty often got me into trouble.

  He turned on the engine and backed out of the space. When he took a left out of the parking lot, he slowed, looking in his rearview mirror. “Shit,” he mumbled.

  “Something wrong?”

  “You in any hurry?”

  Was he asking me out? “I … I’m flexible.”

  “Good.” He did a U-turn on the street adjacent to the parking lot and sped up. “Put on your seat belt.”

  I looked down. I’d forgotten to put it on, and with the way he was weaving in and out of traffic, I sure needed it. It wasn’t like me to ride without my seat belt. Maybe that passing-out thing had affected my brain. At this speed, my body was pushed back in the seat with my head pressed against the headrest. It felt like being on a ride in an amusement park where gravity keeps you in your seat as they spin you around. “You in some hurry?” I croaked out.

  He ignored me and swung down Maple Avenue.

  Suddenly I realized he was following someone. A green Toyota Corolla in front of us. Jagger slowed. The car took a right onto Oak Street.

  Yep. We were following it. I squinted to see the driver. “Who is that?”

  Jagger handled the Suburban like a pro. We weaved in and out until the Corolla turned into a Stop and Buy parking lot. Jagger slowed and turned in too. He pulled to the side of the lot and stopped.

  I leaned forward, thankful to be able to move of my own accord. The Corolla had pulled up near a black Lexus. Nice company—but still a painful reminder of the next car payment I owed. I figured Jagger wasn’t going to tell me what the heck we were doing there. I only hoped it didn’t involve shooting. There was that bulge… .

  Before I could ask any more questions that I assumed he wouldn’t answer, I watched the door of the Corolla open.

  Out stepped Eddy Roden!

  “Eddy?” snuck out of my mouth.

  Jagger turned, stared, then looked back at Eddy.

  What the heck was going on?

  Eddy walked up to the Lexus. The door opened. I sat motionless and silent, which I’m sure Jagger appreciated. I held my breath in my throat, waiting.

  A red leather boot stepped out followed by a black-panted leg. The rest of the woman, covered in a black mink jacket, followed her leg. Even at this distance I could tell it was real mink and not faux fur. Goldie would look fabulous in that jacket—only it would have to be several sizes smaller.

  The woman leaned forward to talk to Eddy and her matching mink hat tilted to one side.

  “Oh … my … God.”

  I looked at Jagger. His eyes met mine.

  “Tina,” we said in unison.

  Then my eyes widened. Jagger’s eyes pierced into me, obviously in question.

  “How do you know her?” I asked, heading off his interrogation, which I felt certain would follow. Even though I’d said I went to school with her and Eddy, that was a long time ago. And, truth be told, I wouldn’t recognize her if she barreled over me on the street. If it weren’t for my seeing her the first day of my surveillance, she could have been any large woman in Hope Valley, for all I knew.

  Jagger turned back, once again ignoring my question. Eddy gave Tina a manila envelope. She handed him a small white one. I turned to Jagger, who now had on his sunglasses, which he occasionally adjusted. Odd, since puffy gray clouds had the sun hidden. My gray eyes are sensitive to light, but even I wouldn’t need sunglasses right now.

  I contemplated that a second.

  Eddy and Tina got back into their respective cars and drove off. Jagger took off his glasses and put then into the holder above hi
s visor. He cranked up the engine and drove to the end of the parking lot. He looked at me as if nothing had happened. “Where to?”

  Did I really want Jagger to know where I lived? Then again, he was an ex-PI, so he could find out if he wanted to. Damn, between him and Nick, I felt a bit as if my privacy had been invaded.

  Something told me both already knew where I lived.

  Eight

  Jagger, in fact, did know how to find my home without directions from me, and as he pulled up in front, I dashed out of the black Suburban before he could say anything. He wouldn’t answer any of my questions, so I figured I’d get inside and have Miles take me to get my car.

  When I shut the car door, I heard Jagger say something. It sounded like either you feel better or you look wetter. Either way, I didn’t want to hang around inside his car.

  Too many male pheromones in that Suburban.

  I ran up to our door and dug into my purse for my keys. After searching around for several minutes, I leaned on the doorbell. When I looked over my shoulder, I saw Jagger watching, a half smile on his face.

  I inhaled and nearly dropped my purse.

  The pheromones were seeping out of the Suburban.

  Suddenly a sleepy Miles opened the door. “What the fuck, Pauline?”

  I pushed past him, ran to the window. The Suburban’s brake lights sparkled as Jagger slowed, then pulled out of the parking lot.

  Thank God he left.

  I sank into the white beanbag chair. Spanky ran up and jumped into my lap. I hugged him and looked up at a confused Miles. “Couldn’t find my keys.”

  “Stop carrying everything you own in that satchel. Your car break down?”

  “I only wish. Nothing that simple though.” I looked at him. “Oops. Forget you got called in last night to work. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “No problem-o.” He flopped on the couch, his navy silk robe revealing hairy slender legs. Goldie had it all over Miles in the legs department. Maybe that’s why he was the transvestite.

  I told Miles about my day and had to repeat several times that he should close his mouth. It wasn’t all that shocking, and I repeatedly apologized for waking him since he was working nights.

  He looked at me. “Maybe that’s not the right job for you. I should call my friend Hammy. He owns a furniture store—”