Nip, Tuck, Dead

by Lori Avocato

  “Ah. The Chandlers are known for their generosity, Pauline. We needed to make sure to keep up our stellar image.”

  Stellar my ass.

  “Mother kept a close eye on things recently. She’d sent Ian to check out your room at the lodge.” He laughed. “He thought he’d scare you off with the lipstick message.”

  Ian? Knowing he tried to scare me made it somehow hurt more. I thought back to the pictures in the office. Ian must have been the blond child with Olivia. And I guess nurse Jackie was innocent, and it was Ian who had knocked me out.

  “Mother found out about you in her spying. Very smart lady my mother. Oh, don’t flatter yourself that I spend all that money on you. There is no scholarship, the ruse was merely to make you feel as if you had to go out with me at least one more time. You might say we ‘killed two birds with one stone’ by having all of Newport admire our generosity, and getting you out here. Sealed your fate, you did, you fool.”

  Fool? Hey! Wait. Spying? I let my mind wander backward. “Lady Bandage,” I murmured and had to stop myself from clocking him after that “fool” comment. “So Dr. Cook worked with you on all this?”

  “Ha. He’s what kept the suspicion from us.”

  I had to agree with him there. Damn, even I’d fallen for believing Dr. Cook was the crook when Neal had obviously set it up that way. The guy was smart. I’d give him that. Sick but smart and the true meaning of the words “mama’s boy.”

  My eyes shut a second as I tried to think. This guy was off the deep end, and if I didn’t do something soon, I’d be off the deep end of the boat. With all my force I kicked my knee into his groin, opened my eyes and pushed at his chest, sliding from under him just enough to grab the pink locket with its pepper spray.

  Neal screamed out in pain and, taken off guard, fell to the floor where his head smacked against the bedside table. Blood spurted out onto the beige carpet, but I told myself that head wounds bled a lot and that I had to save myself.

  No nursing the killers, Jagger had once said.

  I needed my miracle.

  Neal lay silently still.

  I grabbed the pull rope of the drapes and yanked with strength I had no idea that I had.

  Ring. Ring.

  In the pocket of my jeans my cell phone went off.

  Neal started to moan.

  I grabbed my cell phone out, pushed the speaker button on and talked nonstop to whoever was on the line, telling him or her exactly what had happened and where I was-not even knowing the real location. I chattered on and on, never letting the other person say a word-then the line went blank.

  But for a miracle, you don’t have to fill in all the blanks. You merely have to believe.

  I pushed Neal over, ignored the gaping wound on the back of his head and tried to tie his hands together. In my nervousness my hands shook and I fumbled several times. Soon I had Neal’s hands near each other.

  One hand reached out and grabbed me!

  I screamed.

  Neal swung around and with blood trickling down his forehead cursed at me in a low, guttural tone that sent chills racing up my spine and fear into my heart.

  “You bitch!” he shouted and started to get up.

  I pushed him back with all the Benadryl-laced strength that I could muster. Then I relied on my self-defense moves that Jagger had taught me-and stuck my fingers into Neal’s nostrils.

  Barely able to complete the gross action, I did as I’d learned, and before I knew it, Neal was once again doubled over in pain. I then grabbed the rope, tied as tightly as I could, not forgetting his feet, and ran out of the room.

  At the top of the stairs a set of arms seized me.

  I screamed.

  And I knew I was then going overboard to my death.

  All went black.

  “What the hell possessed you to come out on a boat? You couldn’t swim to save your life, Sherlock!”

  I opened one eye, realized I was on Jagger’s lap still on Neal’s boat and must have died. If this was Heaven, I’d wasted way too many years of diligently going to church each Sunday.

  Not that being on Jagger’s lap wasn’t Heaven, but he was chastising me and the setting was all wrong.

  I rubbed at my forehead. “Don’t yell so loudly.”

  Suddenly his voice softened, “I’m just so pissed that you could have…you could have-”

  I looked up at Jagger to see his eyes teary and him not able to finish.

  Worrying about me had Jagger speechless.

  Oh…my…God.

  This rush of pleasure made living through the experience with Neal all worth it.

  As the Coast Guard called out from some bull-horn-since Jagger had called them right after my rambling cell phone call with him-he leaned over and kissed my lips, then tucked the pink locket into my hand.

  “I can’t even take off a few days to go sailing on a quick trip to Martha’s Vineyard without you getting into trouble.”

  “Hey, I didn’t get hurt.”

  “Yeah, you did good, Sherlock.”

  My heart soared.

  Jagger blew out a deep breath. “I’d told Samuel to look after you.”

  I chuckled. “I guess that’s why you called when you did. Who is he, Jagger?”

  He looked off into the distance. “He lives in the lodge that I’d inherited many years ago. Samuel was my great-grandfather. Samuel Freeman Tonelli. He started the insurance company years ago…”

  I knew Jagger was talking but I’d fixated on the word “Tonelli.”

  Jagger Tonelli.

  My boss.

  My boss?

  Shark bait was sounding better and better by the second.

  My boss!

  Epilogue

  “On your mark, get set…” I turned to look at the crowd in my parents’ living room. All the family, my favorite uncle, Walt, Miles, Lilla and Adele, freaking Fabio, and…Jagger. Not to mention the star of the day, Goldie. I touched his shoulder as he stood with his back to the crowd. “Go!”

  Goldie, the one with the new nose, turned around.

  The room let out a collective “Wow!”

  I threw my arms around him. “You look fantastic!” Sometimes one had to lie to their friends in order not to hurt their feelings.

  Goldie’s damn nose looked pretty much the same to me.

  Yikes!

  If I stood a bit closer, which I did, I noted the slight bump he used to have was gone. Okay, I’d give him that. But there was no drastic change-which gave me a comforting feeling.

  The old Goldie really was perfect, and despite all his faults-and there were plenty-criminal Neal must have known and decided not to disfigure Goldie in any way.

  I’d thank Neal for that, but not the fact that he tried to kill me and all the other stuff that’d happened, however. No way was I going to visit him in jail.

  “Hey.” I felt a set of arms wrap around me and knew instantly whom they belonged to.

  “Jagger,” I murmured.

  “Why the shiver? Cold?”

  “In my mother’s house?”

  Jagger chuckled against me. Ah.

  “You’re right, Sherlock. This place is always so warm and cozy.”

  I couldn’t tell him that I’d momentarily relived the boat incident and my near-imminent death with Neal so I said, “Goldie looks great. Doesn’t he?”

  Jagger turned me to face him and stood silent.

  “Don’t ever tell him,” I whispered. “Please.”

  He nodded then leaned forward. When his lips touched mine, I, of course, melted. Suddenly, while still feeling his touch, tasting his deliciousness, and momentarily losing my mind, I found my arms around his head, found my hands running through his hair. And found myself leaning in.

  Oh…my…God.

  A tingling started in my fingers and spread, ever so slowly, so sensually, down my arms that I actually let go. Damn, but this guy had some effect on me.

  He stepped back.

  Shit. Why did my ext
remities have to be so taken with the enigmatic guy too? Seems when Jagger came near, every part of my body felt him.

  “I spoke to the Newport cops today,” he said. “Lydia has been placed in foster care since she’s only seventeen.”

  I winced.

  “Foster care in Newport, Sherlock. How bad could it be?”

  I smiled. “And school?”

  “She’s registered for Yale in the fall.”

  I smiled again. “I’m so glad.”

  “Oh, in all the celebration of Goldie’s nose revealing, I almost forgot. Here.” He took an envelope from his pocket and handed it to me. “I’ll get us a drink.” With that he walked away.

  I opened the envelope to see the biggest payment that I’d ever received in this job. While my jaw dropped, I pulled out a Jagger handwritten note that said, “Case number six. Practice your driving skills, Sherlock. We’ll talk in the morning-at our spot.”

  Our spot.

  Those two words had me so shaken, in a good way, that I could barely think about the next case. Practice your driving skills?

  Oh…my…God again.

  Coming from delicious Jagger, who the hell knew what that meant?

  Acknowledgments

  To all my wonderful readers. You guys are great!

  It’s so fabulous to hear from you about how you love Pauline and the gang. Glad to be able to brighten your lives with a laugh! I certainly live by the motto that laughter is the best medicine.

  To Jay Poynor, my agent, who is a doll and a damn good agent to boot!

  To May Chen, my editor. Thanks for all your wonderful input to make this fab book more fabulous! The series can only keep getting better and better with your help. We’re a darn good team!

  Thanks to Danielle Bartlett, Avon publicist from Heaven. Thanks for all your hard work and wonderful ideas!

  Thanks to all the Avon/HarperCollins employees behind the scenes who contribute to making my work a success.

  To all the patients who have suffered to be beautiful-and those of us who only wish we could…

  Finally, thanks to whomever else thinks they’ve helped me out somewhere along this fickle road to publication. You know who you are!

  About the Author

  After serving in the Air Force as a registered nurse, LORI AVOCATO decided to give up nursing to write fiction. She lives in New England and is a member of Mystery Writers of America, PASIC, NINC, Romance Writers of America, the Author’s Guild, and Sisters in Crime. She’s raising two teenage sons (Heaven help her!), and one darling dog, Spanky. Lori is the author of four previous novels featuring Pauline Sokol, A Dose of Murder, The Stiff and the Dead, One Dead Under the Cuckoo’s Nest, and Deep Sea Dead. She welcomes comments via her website at www.loriavocato.com.

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