by Lori Avocato
“Bitch always looks strung out.”
“Drugs?” I nearly gasped.
“Kids. Single parent with two boys. Pays her ex alimony. What a crock. The guy sells cars and womanizes. Charlene got a raw deal.”
Enough to make her commit fraud? Hmm. “Must be hard on her.”
“Not as bad as old man Feinstein. Four kids in Ivy League colleges. He moonlights in the ER over in Hartford for extra cash. Hates it with a passion. Don’t push his buttons.”
Yikes! Another potential criminal. And then there was Donnie with two houses, one a mansion. Oh, great. “Guess we all have our crosses to bear.”
“Give me a fucking break here. The only decent one in the bunch is Vance, as far as I can tell.”
That left Aaron. “What’s wrong with Doctor Levy?”
Eddy laughed. “Guy after my own heart. Likes the women. His ex has sucked him bone dry in court, but good old Aaron still finds the bucks to pay for his women.”
I wasn’t sure if Eddy meant pay as in dates or pay as in prostitutes. Wow, again. Goes to show how looks were so deceiving. I found it hard to believe that there were so many potential suspects in this practice.
Eddy got up. “Showtime.”
I dumped the rest of my coffee in the sink and stuck the mug in the dishwasher. The lounge was quite complete as far as kitchen facilities were concerned. Linda fit into her office so well you couldn’t even see her from this angle.
Eddy went to get his chart, and I picked the top one off of my pile. Thank goodness I was on Vance’s side of the office, I thought, as I ushered one of his patients into an examining room.
“What brings you in today?”
Mrs. Bakersfield, an elderly woman with wrist pain said, “Well, the years are hard on someone my age. My hands just don’t seem to work as they used to, dear.”
I smiled in what I hoped looked sympathetic and eyed her chart. Eighty-four. I only hoped I’d see eighty-four, let alone have my body parts work correctly. “Are you in much pain?”
“Yes, dear. But that’s part of the process.”
I assumed she meant the circle of life, but didn’t want to clarify the subject with someone who was so close to closing that circle. “Don’t forget to tell the doctor about your discomfort. He can order you something to help.”
“I don’t take pills, dear.”
I smiled while giving her credit for being so stalwart, but didn’t mention that I took a pill at the drop of a hat when I had pain. Nothing too strong. Mostly Tylenol or monthly Motrin. “Doctor Taylor will be in to see you soon.” I took the chart and headed toward the door.
She said, “He’s a real looker. Isn’t he?”
You haven’t seen Jagger. I turned around. “He could be in movies.”
She laughed. “He could put his shoes under my bed anytime.”
I joined in her laughter.
“Who could?” Vance asked coming up behind me.
I swung around.
Mrs. Bakersfield giggled then said, “You, dear. You.”
Vance gave her a nice smile and leaned toward me. “I can’t make dinner this weekend. How about tonight?”
Tonight I’d hoped to be with Jagger—working. “Tonight? Gee. I’m so tired when I get done here. Guess I got out of the routine.”
“We’ll make it an early night.”
And hit the sack? I wasn’t sure if I could keep doing that to myself, or to Vance.
“Go ahead, dear. He’s a looker!” Mrs. Bakersfield gave me a huge grin. Her dentures slipped in the process. While she nonchalantly and in a very ladylike way slipped them back into place, I said, “As long as I’m back by eight.” I figured that gave me time to do some surveillance on Tina, even if by myself. I had come to realize that I wouldn’t know when Jagger would appear or not.
I hurried out and took the next chart. Mr. Steve Marquette. Back pain. Hope he wasn’t faking it like Tina. That was one ailment I’d come to realize could be faked quite well. Even if nothing showed up on an X-ray or CT scan, the patient could still be in pain. Soft tissue injuries and muscular pulls. Hard to prove.
I walked toward the waiting room. Eddy was calling out a patient’s name. He turned to look at me. “Hey, Sokol, how’s it going?”
“Fine, Eddy.”
He waited for his patient to hobble over with her leg in a cast. “Fine? Here? Hell, maybe you should take over for Tina permanently.” He laughed.
“No thank you.” I held up my chart, ready to call out the patient’s name.
Eddy leaned near. “You do a hell of a lot better than her fat ass.”
“That’s not nice.”
“Hey, you haven’t seen her in action. Or should I say non-action. Just ’cause her hubby is a partner here, she doesn’t do shit.” He held the door for his patient. “Back injury, my foot.”
My eyes widened. “That’s not nice either.” Did Eddy know something? Could he be of help to me?
He started down the hall with his patient. “Neither is fraud.”
Fraud?
Eddy and I needed to talk.
As I bent to look at my chart, I noticed Linda come out of her office. She smiled at Eddy’s retreating back, then at me. I hustled to the waiting room doorway and called, “Mr. Marquette,” not wanting Linda to chastise me for not working. Already she was docking my pay for yesterday.
I held the chart in one hand and waited. No one moved. I repeated, “Mr. Steve Marquette.”
There were four woman on one side of the room, an elderly gentleman who didn’t look like a Steve and two young boys near the door. One of them could be him. On the opposite wall sat a biker. Chains. Leather. Shades. Wow, I thought. I hope he didn’t ride a Harley in this kind of weather. “Mr. Marquette.”
He looked up, then stood.
“Are you Mr. Marquette?”
He nodded.
Great. The guy probably had the IQ of a pczki and it would be a challenge doing his history for the chart. “This way.”
He followed me into the examining room.
I watched him looking at the door and holding a hand to his back. Okay, Pauline Sokol was the epitome of empathy for her patients. Maybe the guy wasn’t turnip material after all. Maybe his back pain had him too preoccupied. “So, Mr. Marquette, please take a seat on the examining table.”
He looked at me through the dark glasses. His hair touched his shoulders, much longer than mine. Actually, it partially covered his eyes. A deep blonde shade that was far too light for his dark eyebrows. A growth of beard covered his face and long dangly silver earrings clanged in his left ear.
There was something familiar about him, but I didn’t really think I knew any bikers. Course, could have been a friend of Miles or Goldie. My life had gotten too weird lately, and that’s why I thought I knew him. Overactive imagination. Had to come from spying. “What brings you here?”
He looked at me for a few seconds.
“Sir, what brings you here to the doctor’s office?”
Slowly he lowered his glasses. “Thought you might want to film my butt.”
Fifteen
Jagger!
I could only stare for several minutes. Maybe I should pass out and not have to deal with him—after him mentioning that I filmed his butt. But, I needed to stay conscious since I had to work and get money.
So, I summoned all my strength and said, “Oh, that video thing. I didn’t know how to turn off the glasses. Camera. Don’t flatter yourself.”
He grinned.
Didn’t buy it.
Well, I had too much to do besides get embarrassed and let him enjoy himself at my expense. “I’m guessing your back is fine, Steve.”
“Anything so far today?”
“No.” I sighed. “Seems business as usual.”
He remained silent. I couldn’t get over Jagger as a biker. Wow. He looked pretty … yummy . I reminded myself that I was having dinner with Vance, my … my what? I really couldn’t call him my boyfriend. Didn’t want to
call him that.
What if Jagger planned for us to be together tonight?
I’d totally forgotten that we were supposed to be an item. Now what? I had to be truthful. My parents always taught us kids to tell the truth. Sometimes I wished I could break that habit, but, well, that was me. The little white lies I’d been telling lately that related to my case didn’t count.
“Before the doctor comes in, I have to tell you … I have a date tonight.”
He looked at me over his glasses. “And?”
“And? And aren’t we … Well, you’re the one who told Nick. I mean, I never said. You … I heard you tell Nick. I just wanted to tell you in case you had plans—”
He grinned. “So, you’re cheating on me already?”
“I … no. It’s just … Well, I’ve been dating Vance—”
He held up his hand. “Pauline, I lied to Nick.”
Why on earth had I made it sound as if I owed Jagger an explanation? And, sadly, let him think that I thought we were really dating?
I pulled my shoulders straight and said, “I only wanted to tell you so that you didn’t plan to help me with Tina tonight.”
“That’s thoughtful of you.”
I turned and walked to the door. “The doctor will be right in.”
A soft, deep chuckle followed me.
I had no idea what Jagger discussed with Dr. Macaluso after I’d left. Furthermore, I didn’t want to know. I did my work shuffling patients from examining room, to cast room, to X-ray and out the door. Jagger had to be out the door about two hours ago, I thought, as my stomach growled, and I readied to go to lunch.
I only hoped he wasn’t in the cafeteria.
I headed up there to find the lunch line wasn’t as long as yesterday. I managed to get a bowl of beef barley soup, croissant with butter and hot green tea with low-fat milk. The croissant was to make me feel better after my Jagger encounter.
Eddy sat with me during lunch and made small talk. I looked around to see if anyone was close enough to eavesdrop, then said, “So, Eddy. What’s your take on Tina?”
“She’s fat.” He took a sip of his Coke.
“Not how she looks. I mean her back problem.”
“Fake. She’s a fat-assed fake.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’ve seen her bend down and pick up a penny from the fucking floor. If I had back pain, I wouldn’t bother with that. Hell, I wouldn’t bother to pick up a buck if my back hurt like hers is supposed to.”
So Eddy had witnessed Tina’s fraud. I wondered if an eyewitness account would be beneficial, and as I was making a mental note to ask Goldie, I looked at Eddy.
Eyewitnesses had to be credible.
There went that theory. I’d have to get the video on her soon.
He leaned near, his beady eyes on me. “You don’t know about this place, Pauline.”
“I … What’s to know?”
Eddy’s mouth opened and then shut. He stared at something or someone behind me.
I looked over my shoulder. A long line had formed now and a crowd stood waiting for the elevator. There stood Dr. Levy and Dr. Feinstein with Tina and Trudy. Everything looked normal to me. No one stood out.
But something or someone had shut Eddy’s mouth.
I excused myself and decided I’d need to share this info with Jagger—if I could recognize him.
On the stairs I thought of how damn appealing he looked, no matter what he wore, and mentally patted myself on the back for not getting out of breath anymore. Obviously I was getting used to these stairs.
The rest of the afternoon went along without incident. No Jagger in disguise. No Eddy Roden acting weird. Weirder than usual. Linda was pleasant, and Trudy told me all about her children and grandchildren. I actually felt like one of the staff.
But it didn’t take long for me to be reminded of how I really didn’t want to practice nursing—once my feet started hurting and an elderly woman yelled at me for having to wait so long on the phone to make her appointment. I was about to tell her that nurses had nothing to do with the phones, when the door opened.
A group of six young men walked in with a guy in about his late twenties. The kids, I guessed ranging from thirteen to sixteen, all stood to the side. There were two Hispanic-looking teens, three black and a white one who was much shorter than the others. When they were in high school, my brothers would have given anything to be as tall as these kids. They all wore the gigantic pants hung low on their hips with colorful—and, hopefully, clean—underwear showing.
Trudy got up and opened the door. I didn’t see any patient charts and none of the boys looked injured. They followed along with the man in his twenties to the examining room in the back of the hallway. I figured they were maybe here for basketball physicals, but then thought, that couldn’t be possible. This was an orthopedic group.
Before I could figure it out, the boys came out, all carrying white plastic bags. Odd, I thought, but had no clue as to what to make of it.
Since my shift was over, I took my purse, said goodbye and went out the door. In the elevator lobby I noticed the boys taking sneakers, expensive looking Jordans, out of their bags. Maybe the ortho group donated them to promote good feet.
I went down the stairs and out to my car. When I reached to pull on my seat belt, I noticed the group of boys getting into a white van with the YMCA logo on the side. Hmm. They had to be basketball players by their height.
Too tired to care, I started my car and let myself daydream about a hot bath in the sunken tub.
I’d use honeysuckle bubble bath.
“I can’t believe we’re working in the same office,” Vance said as he leaned across the table in Bernoulli’s.
I’d been in the mood for pizza, although Vance usually insisted that wasn’t dinner food. Consequently, we usually ate at some fancy restaurant. I had to put my foot down tonight, maintaining that I was too tired to get dressed up after work.
I had on my black jeans, a black-and-peach knitted sweater and black boots, since it had started to snow a few minutes before Vance had picked me up. No way was I freezing my feet for him again.
I took a bite of pizza, scooped up a mushroom that had fallen onto my dish and looked at Vance. He didn’t own a pair of jeans, so tonight he wore a cashmere sweater in a deep olive that went well with his hair color, always styled to perfection. I wondered if a hair ever had the audacity to slip out of place on his head, but guessed not. His pants had to be suede and must have cost a bundle.
“More wine?” He held the bottle toward me.
“Yikes. No. I’ll be asleep on my cannoli if I have any more.”
“I’m guessing that’s what you want for dessert.”
“Um.” I wrapped a stringy piece of mozzarella around my finger and popped it into my mouth. Last time I ate pizza, it was with Jagger. Ack.
Vance stared at me. “You smell nice. Honeysuckle.”
“Yeah. You know, Vance, working together usually doesn’t work out. I mean, maybe we should …” I couldn’t break up with him. Not now. Not here.
And not because of Jagger.
Yet, I really wanted to.
“True. Good thing we don’t have too much contact at work.”
So he wasn’t in the market for social freedom. Okay, I’d hold off any knee-jerk reactions, but I decided I’d put my foot down one more time tonight.
And not sleep with him.
I wasn’t sure what excuse I’d use, but I’d think of something between now and eight. I had to get the subject off of our relationship so I said, “There are some awfully nice elderly patients that come to your practice.” That wasn’t a stretch, because Vance knew I had a fondness for my Uncle Walt and all of his elderly friends.
“I guess.” He gave me an odd look.
Even though I liked the elderly, it was a strange subject to bring up, and Vance must’ve been thinking just that. But I decided an investigator is always on the job, and I needed to know more about th
at MRI. It bothered me.
What I didn’t know was how I was going to bring up the subject?
And, I thought, taking a sip of wine, what if Vance didn’t order that MRI? Then who did? Or, my mind started to crank, what if Vance did order that MRI? Why?
“Pauline?”
I looked up. Vance was standing. “I have to go.”
“The men’s room is to the left of the brick oven on the north end of the kitchen.”
“No. Pauline. I have to leave. Didn’t you hear my beeper go off?”
I hadn’t. “I … sure. I was joking. Go ahead. I’ll get a cab home.”
“You sure?”
“Go. Have fun.” I have no idea why that came out.
Vance looked at me. He set two twenty-dollar bills on the table.
I should have said don’t worry, but I really didn’t want to be stuck with the bill. Well, at least this solved my sex dilemma.
“There’s been a car accident. The ER paged me.”
“Oh. I hope everything is all right.” I sat back and watched him leave. Once the waiter came with the bill and back with the change, I left a generous tip and walked to the door.
I forgot I needed a ride home, so I asked the hostess if I could use the phone to call a cab. She gave me a strange look.
“There aren’t any cabs running after seven in Hope Valley, ma’am.”
She was right. After 7 P.M. the town rolled up its streets and consequently the cabs during the winter months. Damn. I’d have to call Miles. She let me use the phone but the recorder came on. Miles was either called in to work or out with Goldie. I tried Goldie’s number. Got his recorder too.
“Hi, sugars, you’ve reached the one and only Goldie Perlman residence. If you’re a hot dude, leave a message. If you’re the cops, you have the wrong number. And if you’re a bill collector, Goldie Perlman is deceased.”
I laughed into the phone despite the odd look from the hostess. I’d have to remind Goldie to change his message now that he and Miles were an item. I looked out the window. The snow had stopped.
A pinkish glow covered the earth as the freshly fallen snow sparkled beneath the street lamps. Well, I did have on my boots, so I decided I would walk home. Thank goodness I’d talked Vance into coming here. It was in the Italian section of Hope Valley only about six blocks from my place.