Hazard Play (2 page)

“Wait here.” She’d never get him in her truck if she didn’t help him with his blasted motorcycle. She’d seen a derelict shed a half-mile back. Around these back roads, abandoned structures ended up piles of rubble more often than not.

She was back as soon as she as she found suitable planks. It took only ten minutes to wrestle the disabled Harley into the bed of the pickup. It’d been easy to load. That irritated her even more. He’d smiled again, his crooked little grin that made her want to scream. No man should be that self-confident; particularly one who called her Contessa.

* * *

During the uneventful ride into Ontario, Bailey sat with his head resting against the back cushion of the Chevy. He kept quiet, which was fine with her. She fiddled with the radio until her favorite channel, Mix 106, came in.

“What in the hell is that God-awful noise?”

“Well, this isn’t my favorite group, but this is a good station. It plays all kinds of rock; classical, heavy metal, alternative.”

“Right, but does it play music?” 

“Don't tell me. The only music you like comes from country bands named Country Bob and the Cowpokes. Figures.”

“You’d be surprised at the music I like.” He stopped talking and leaned back against the headrest.

She grimaced. “There’s not a single thing we’ve agreed on yet. Why start now? The good news is we’re only a few miles outside of town. This is the last time we’ll be in each other’s company.”

Tess congratulated herself on her choice of music. At least, he was in no danger of falling asleep. She was performing a service to a possible concussion victim by preventing him from passing out. Besides, given his disposition, she had to admit she liked anything that got on his nerves. She’d worry about why she enjoyed such childish revenge against a relative stranger later.

Tess pulled into the hospital parking lot a little after four o’clock. It had been a long day and one she was anxious to see end. “Let's get you to the ER.” The last few miles had sped by with both of them silent. 

“I think I can make it on my own.” He got out of the truck and leaned against the door. “Actually, maybe I do need the help of a good nurse.”

Even banged up, he’s lethal
. “You must be feeling like your old self again...too bad.” Tess stiffened her resolve to be done with this overconfident man. A matter of self-preservation, she told herself.

After helping him into the waiting area, Tess talked with the receptionist. She briefly explained what had happened and the first aid she’d administered. She stayed to help Bailey with the admitting form.

“You have to give me your first name. They won’t admit you as ‘Bailey’.” 

“Put down my initials, S.D.” He was adamant.

This guy was driving me crazy. Was it karma because she smoked in the girls' bathroom when she was in high school? She quit, though. Surely she couldn’t be punished at this late stage of the game. Tess took a deep breath and supplied the initials to the attendant, who asked if she wanted to sit in the waiting room until her friend had been examined.

Not being a glutton for punishment, Tess declined. She’d take Bailey at his word and leave him alone. All she wanted now was a good night’s sleep. She had several people on her route tomorrow that needed her.

Tess went back to where he was slouched in the waiting room chair. “You're up next. I’m leaving you in good hands."

"What about the bike?"

He had a good point. She couldn’t get it out of the pickup by herself. Drat. “It'll be fine in the truck for now.”

She didn’t want to keep the motorcycle, but she wasn’t about to be S.D. Bailey’s errand minion and take it anywhere to be fixed either. “And tell me, what’s this thing with your first name? Is it, hmm, Samuel Donald?” 

“No. What if it’s stolen?” He was back to his old charismatic self.

“Get a grip. Maybe the crowd you’re used to can’t be trusted, but the people in Greenview can. The bike won’t run in that condition and people around here know my truck. It won’t get stolen. And by the way, you’re welcome!” She spun on her heel and walked away.

“You’re still cute when you’re mad. Thanks, Contessa.”

She had a feeling he wouldn’t be in the hospital for very long, if only because he drove everyone nuts. Her first appointment was at eight in the morning and she drove away from the hospital, certain it was the last time she’d have to deal with S.D. Bailey.

* * *

Tess found Frank Carter’s body in the old Naugahyde Stratolounger, his hand curled loosely around the remote. Death had smoothed his wizened face until he looked like he was taking a nap. Almost. She crossed the room to the television and turned it off before moving to the recliner.

“Poor old Frank. I hope you were watching your favorite show.” Professional efficiency compelled Tess to go through the motions even though, after two years, she could tell a dead man easily enough without checking for a non-existent pulse. 

She gently removed the remote from his stiffening fingers and smoothed a wisp of snow-white hair back from his forehead.  Forcing back the tears that threatened to well up, she made the phone calls.

“Mary, it’s Tess Hazard. I’m sorry, but your uncle died last night. No, I think it was sudden. He looks...very peaceful. Mary, don’t. I know you tried to get him to move in with you and Mel. He liked living alone. He had his cat and his television to keep him company.”
The cat. I'd better find Pyewacket
. 

She couldn’t help a sad smile. Frank had been delighted to tell her about his favorite movie. The witch’s familiar, a black cat, was named Pyewacket. Frank always laughed when he recounted that story. Sometimes, he forgot he’d told her about it and told her again. She didn’t mind. He got such joy from telling her.

Holding her phone, Tess scanned the living room without luck for the big black Persian. “Yes, I’m still here, Mary. I'll call the coroner and arrange to have Frank taken to Oak Tree Mortuary. I'll tell them you’ll be in touch. I'll talk to you soon. Bye.” 

Replacing the receiver on the hook, she paused to take a deep breath. Why didn’t this get any easier? Thank God her vacation began at the end of the week. Many of her patients were either terminally ill, or very old, with bodies that plain wore out. It didn’t matter that all the nursing training warned about getting emotionally attached. When Tess took care of these people, she got to know them in so many ways. Their family history, their dreams…their favorite movies. Losing them always affected her. 

She made the necessary call to the sheriff’s office and then dialed the coroner. There was not much for her to do while she waited. Standard procedure in the case of any unexplained death required her to leave Frank where he was until the police came to record it. She thought about Pyewacket again. He hadn’t come into the living room the entire time she’d been on the phone.

“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty. Pyewacket, where are you?” Hearing a faint meow, Tess followed the sound into the kitchen.  The cat was nowhere to be seen. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.” Another meow, still muffled, sounded like it was coming from a deep well. She opened the cupboard to the right of the sink. Nothing. “Here, kitty, kitty.”

“Meow.”

She opened the cupboard under the sink. No luck. She heard a scratching noise from high above her head. Placing a chair from the dinette set in front of the refrigerator, she climbed on and pulled open the cupboard door above the fridge. The huge, inky fur-ball was crouched, big golden eyes looking thoroughly disgusted.

“Well, what? Did you and Frank play some kind of hide-and-seek game? I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Tess reached to lift him down, but snatched back her hand when he hissed. “Okay, right. We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Tess. I know you’ve seen me here, Pyewacket. I’ve been treating Frank for the past six months.”

The feline’s baleful stare followed her as she stepped off the chair.

“Great. I’m supposed to rescue a cat that’s got the disposition of Jack the Ripper. Let’s see what will bring you around.” She rummaged through the cupboards until she found the cat food. “Ah, Tender Vittles.” She tore open the individual packet and dumped the contents in a bowl. 

Approaching the black beast, she gingerly placed the bowl on top of the refrigerator. “Yum, yum. It sure smells good. Come on, kitty, try it.”

The yellow eyes narrowed and the punched-in Persian nose twitched once, twice. One paw reached out, hooked the rim of the bowl and pulled it closer.

“Atta boy!” Tess held her breath.

The cat stood, stretched, and crouched to eat. Relieved that she’d accomplished even a small thing while waiting for the police, Tess leaned against the kitchen counter and watched. The cat polished off the food in no time.

“Jeez, no wonder you’re bigger than Mom’s poodle.”

Pyewacket jumped from the fridge to the counter to the floor. Another stretch and he started toward her.

“Okay, we’re friends now, aren’t we, nice kitty?” Tess stood straighter, unsure if she was about to be run off the property.

The cat walked behind her and rubbed against her legs, completely circling her once. Then, he proceeded to sit down in front of her and groom himself.

Soon after, the sheriff’s deputy arrived. He knew the drill and performed his duties quickly and efficiently. The coroner’s van (not-so-sympathetically called the Corpse Wagon) drove up as the police left. It had been white once. At least judging from the patches of paint she could see under the dust. The outlying roads of Greenview and the surrounding area were dirt and gravel more often than not.

Great, it was Jerry, Mr. Sensitive. Tess took a deep breath and prayed for patience. She couldn’t stand this guy and his attitude toward “stiffs” as he called them.

“Hey, Tess. Cool chopper! I didn’t know you were a Motorcycle Mama. How’s it going'?” Jerry was tall and thin, with a perpetual grin that reminded her of Gomer Pyle. Unfortunately, that was the only characteristic he shared with the kindly citizen of Mayberry.

“Peachy, Jerry.” She opened the screen door and stood back to let him enter with the gurney.

“Can I ride your bike, sometime?” Jerry was not going to let this go.

“It's not mine. I’m only keeping it for a day or two.”

“Ya snagged a hot one, huh, Tess? Never took ya for the type. That’s pretty bitchin'.” He took out a handkerchief and blew his nose. “Ya know, Tess, did ya ever notice how all your patients end up bitin' the big one? Suppose ya better bone up on your nursin'?” He snorted and laughed like it was the first time he’d thought of such a funny line. Actually, he said it every time he saw her.

“Always a card.” Tess ignored him as much as possible but in such a small town, it was hard to avoid him.

“So, who’s the st—?”

“Shut up, Jerry.” She’d had enough. “Frank’s ready to go. Take him to Oak Tree. Here’s the paperwork from the sheriff's.”

“Criminy, Tess. Is it my fault you have so many old geezers with one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel? Give a guy a break!” He stomped around to the back of the wagon, muttering all the time about “people who got no sense of humor.” He grabbed a gurney, put a black body bag on it, and pushed it past Tess—still stomping—into the house.

Tess felt suddenly very tired. Tired of Jerry, tired of caring too much, tired of seeing people die. All of it. She knew the symptoms. Burnout. Without a vacation, she wouldn’t be good for anyone. To add to her already crappy day, she’d looked at her calendar that morning and realized it was her birthday tomorrow.
Happy freakin’ birthday to me.

“You can finish up here without me. I have to file my report at the office.” Before leaving, she knelt to pet Pyewacket who’d followed her out to the living room. Tess climbed in the pickup, but not before noticing the battered Harley in the back. She wondered when the too-assured Bailey would come for his property.

Bailey opened the door of the Cuddle Inn, momentarily bringing in the intrusive outdoor sounds of passing cars and barking dogs to the quiet of the tavern. The bar was small and cozy, just the way he liked it.  Uncle Dan hadn’t modernized the place, thank God. Bailey had seen a lot of neighborhood bars with the personality leached out of them by stainless steel and the trendy open concept style.

He’d bet most of Greenview’s inhabitants stopped by to visit or relax at the Cuddle at least once a week. In his business, these were great places to find out things because the neighborhood pub served as a social club rather than a pickup bar. Loud music wasn’t played as an excuse to keep people from talking.

Bailey spotted Tess Hazard the moment he entered. He watched as she turned her back to him. So, the Contessa didn’t want to talk. He had to admit he was intrigued by her attitude toward him. Women didn’t usually display such indifference.  It was quite the opposite and he had no reservations about using that fact to his advantage, on the job or personally. While he didn’t think he was God’s gift to women, he’d take any edge that would help him in his job. As long as it was legal. In his opinion, the good thing about law was its color. Gray.

Ruffling the Contessa’s feathers sounded fun. He liked pushing her buttons and besides, he wanted his bike. She didn’t even look up as he settled onto the wooden stool beside her and removed his Mariners baseball cap.

“Hey, Uncle Dan,” he said as the man waved.

“Good Lord, boy, what happened to you?” The bartender/owner, a fixture at the Cuddle Inn, shook his head. “Whatever fella you fought, you lost.”

“It looks worse that it is. Spring Creek Road and I had a little disagreement.” Bailey reached up and adjusted the bandage covering his eye. He grimaced and said, “I'll take a bottle of Bud.” 

“Well, now son, it seems to me that if you’re not man enough to handle a little Harley on the open road, that beer might be a little out of your league. How about a soda pop?” The older man didn’t even try to hide the twinkle in his eyes. “Or some milk?”

“Okay, okay, get the jokes out of the way and get me the beer. You were the one who called me and told me the bike was for sale. I wouldn’t have made a stop in Greenview if it weren’t for you.” The cold Budweiser hit the back of his throat. “Ah, I feel better all ready.” He laughed and reached for a bowl of peanuts on the counter near Tess. Bailey could feel her body tensing up beside him.
Interesting.
He looked at her, but she appeared to be fascinated with her beer.

“Where’re my manners? Son, this sweet lady beside you is Tess Hazard, our local Florence Nightingale. Tess, this is my no-account nephew, Bailey.” The bartender beamed at both of them.

“Nephew? You’ve never mentioned him” She directed her comment to Dan—as if Bailey weren’t in the room.

“Tess found me after I wrecked, so I guess you could say we met under interesting circumstances.” Bailey wasn’t about let her ignore him.

“It’s good she was there.” Dan shook his head, then said, “You coming to poker night after we close tomorrow, Tess? We missed you last time.”

“Sure. I could use some extra cash for my vacation,” she teased.

“Maybe not. Your luck can’t hold out all the time.”

“Skill, Dan. Not luck.” She grabbed a couple of peanuts and popped them in her mouth.

“Poker player?” Bailey asked his uncle.

Uncle Dan laughed. “She’s the best in town. You should hear her tell the stories of her daddy teaching her when she was just a squirt. Took her to poker rooms all over the town where she grew up. Well, I’d better get to work. Bills don’t pay themselves.” Uncle Dan moved down the bar to take care of a new customer.

“You have interesting layers to you. I’d never guess playing poker was one of them.”

Tess flicked a glance toward him and nodded before returning to her thoughts.

“I thought small towns were known for their friendliness.” Bailey paused. “Guess that’s one of those urban myths.”

“Too bad it’s a fact that big city hot dogs act like arrogant jerks, isn’t it?” Tess turned to favor him with a glare from her icy blue eyes. 

The Contessa knew how to fire off an insult. Bailey flushed. He
had
acted like an ass after the accident, but damn it, that Harley cost a fortune and he’d been afraid his injuries would slow him down for a few days. Days he couldn’t afford to lose.  Most cases had a deadline on them and this Tahoe deal was one of them.

He still remembered the three months he’d been in physical therapy when he’d blown his knee because of a man he was after. However, fair was fair and she’d helped him when he’d needed it. “Look, I’m sorry. I wasn’t at my best. Forgive me?” Bailey felt better despite the fact he was wearing a black eye patch and could feel his leg pulling against the stitches. He turned on the smile that had gained him admission to places he shouldn’t be and information that shouldn’t be shared. It was effective and he knew it. He’d practiced it long enough.

Tess took a sip from her drink. “Your bike’s in the pickup out in the back parking lot. You can go out that door.” She indicated the exit beside an old Bull Durham tobacco poster on the rear wall of the bar.

Bailey felt her icy hostility wash over him. Why was she acting like he’d been put on this earth to purposely piss her off? Sure, he hadn’t been all that charming yesterday, but getting scraped all over the road should count for something.

“Maybe we should start over.” He tried his best knock 'em dead, bowl 'em over smile again.

“Let's not. Like I said, the bike’s out back.” This time, she didn’t even bother to look at him.

Damn! You must be losing your touch, old man.
Well, he liked a challenge. Bailey placed his hand on her forearm. “Tess, it’s all right if I call you Tess, isn’t it? I want to thank you for helping me. The doctor said your first aid probably saved me from a nasty infection. I’m sorry if I seemed unappreciative.” He smiled again and squeezed her arm.

Tess stared at his hand. She looked up and searched his face with solemn eyes. “So...does this usually work pretty well for you?”

“What? I don't—”

She moved her arm away to dislodge his hand. “Never kid a kidder, Bailey. That ‘see what a really nice guy I am’ smile. I helped you because I’m a nurse. End of story.” Tess turned away and sipped her beer.

That did it. Never mind that her curls had a life of their own and even now were near enough for him to touch. Forget that the scent of lilacs she wore reminded him of how close their bodies had been when she was bending over him and touching him with her skillful hands. What did it matter if he could almost feel how her lips would fit against his? He shook his head, as much in anger at himself and his imagination as with Tess's indifference.

“Fine,
Ms. Hazard.
” He was furious he’d let this tiny woman with an attitude get to him. What a waste of time. “I won’t bother you, anymore.” He walked out without a backward glance.

* * *

Tess felt like she’d been holding her body rigid for hours rather than a few minutes. She shrugged her shoulders to relieve the tension that had built up while Bailey had been sitting beside her. What she wouldn’t give for a massage right now. It’d been hard, too hard, to resist him. The whole time he was next to her, every nerve ending had been on full alert, sensitive to his every movement.  She’d felt the heat of his body through her lightweight shirt. Her body had responded to his as it had to the sound of his voice, a rough timbre with smooth undertones. When he’d called her Contessa, it had felt like a physical caress.

A man used to getting what he wanted, his swagger into the bar exuded confidence. The way he looked at her and, especially, that killer smile marked her as surely as a hot branding iron. She’d controlled her response, beaten it down, and angered him enough to leave. Thank heaven for small favors.

Yeah, Mr. No-First-Name-Only-Initials Bailey was a dangerous man. Tess knew the type. she’d loved a man like him once.

To her eternal regret.

She’d thought their love was forever. She’d learned five years ago that “forever” was eight months. She’d come home to a silent apartment. All his clothes were gone. A one-line note saying
I can’t do this any more.
It had taken a long time to repair her heart and ego. She wasn’t about to risk breaking it again. Never.

Dan came over. “What happened to my nephew? He didn’t say anything about leaving so soon.”

“I’m afraid my charming personality ran him off. I’m sorry you didn’t get more of a chance to catch up. I didn’t even know you had a nephew.”

“He’s my younger brother’s son,” he said fondly. “He might not come across like it, but he’s a good boy. The family’s real proud of him. He hasn’t set down roots yet, but he’s got time, I figure. You’re looking kind of down, kiddo. Tell old Dan.” The bartender’s kindly face lifted Tess's spirits a little.

“Frank Carter died last night.” She looked up at him.

"Sorry to hear it, but Frank had a long life. That’s all we old geezers can expect. Take it easy, honey.” He pushed another beer in front of her. “This one’s on me.” With a pat on her hand, the bartender moved away to allow Tess some privacy. 

It’d been a long day, which made her even more anxious to get through the rest of the week. After Saturday, Tess’s vacation began and she couldn’t wait. One month to relax and get away from illness and death. No rattling along dusty, dirt roads, no reaching out to close the eyes of a dead person. 

Before she’d gotten this burned out, she’d loved nursing. Greenview was a wonderful town. Not like the bigger places she’d lived, where muggers might lurk on every unlit corner. Portland was beautiful, but complicated. Too many people. Too much to go wrong. In Greenview, Tess had simplified her life and put down roots. 

Maybe it was the birthday thing. Thirty-years didn’t feel old, but over the last few months, she’d become aware that something was missing in her life. A void she hadn’t filled. And then, wouldn’t you know it? A man who made love ’em and leave ’em an art form attracted her for the first time in years. If it weren’t so pathetic, it would be funny. Struggling to keep her emotions at bay, Tess rested her head on her arms.

* * *

Bailey’s temper cooled after he went outside to get his Harley. He’d get his bike out of Tess’s truck and never see her again. And as soon as the doctor gave him a clean bill of health, he’d get back on the job. He hoped the time he’d lost wouldn’t prove detrimental to the case.

The bike lay on its side in the bed of the truck. A quick inspection confirmed Bailey’s worst fears. “Damn it!” The front fork bent almost to the frame meant two things. He couldn’t wheel the Harley once he got it out of the pickup
and
he had to ask Tess for help...again. 

Bailey didn’t like needing anyone’s help, much less the one woman in the continental United States immune to his charm. “This shouldn’t be any more painful than a root canal.”

After a mental pep talk, Bailey headed back to the bar. He stopped short inside the door. Tess was in the same spot he’d left her, with her head cradled in her arms. As he watched, she took a deep, shuddering breath. He could feel her loneliness reach out and coil itself around his gut. It was a familiar feeling because he’d been there. Maybe not for the same reason, but the emotion was identical.

Without a sound, he sat down beside her. As much as he wanted to comfort her with his touch, he refused to take advantage of her vulnerability. “Hey, Contessa.” He hoped his quiet tones would break through her misery but not startle her.

Tess lifted her head and her red-rimmed eyes searched Bailey’s face. “You, what—?”

Bailey carefully covered her hand with his. “Can I help?”               

Tess shook her head and sighed. “No, really, there’s nothing to help with. Thanks, anyway.” 

Her captured hand remained motionless within his but she didn’t pull away. A good sign, he thought. He’d give anything right now for the sharp-tongued Contessa to reappear. Tess turned her palm up and clasped his hand without saying a word.

Tess hadn’t held hands with a man for a long time. It felt good; this lifeline when she needed it. Maybe for a while, she’d enjoy the fantasy that she had someone special in her life. His sandpaper-rough hand felt solid and comfortable. Well, he wasn’t a white-collar guy; that was a given. She would’ve guessed that even if she hadn’t felt the calluses. The little Tess knew about Bailey told her he’d been around, fought and, probably won some doozies. His touch started a wave of warmth traveling up her arm and spreading through her body.

“Hey?” Bailey’s voice intruded.

Tess stammered, hoping the dim lighting in the bar concealed her embarrassment. “I...don’t know what to say. I don’t usually hold hands with ‘almost’ strangers. Please don’t get the wrong idea.” She looked down, then took a breath. “I should have asked you about your leg. I see you’re wearing a new fashion accessory.” She stopped.  What should she do with her hand? It was still entwined with his and he was acting like it was the most natural occurrence in the world. He lazily caressed the fleshy mound below her thumb. She stared, mesmerized by the motion, back and forth.

“The eye patch stays on for a couple of days. Sixty-plus stitches in the leg, internal and external. Antibiotics for a week, then take the external stitches out. Could’ve been worse without your first aid.” He kept holding her hand. It felt right to her. It felt good. “Contessa, tell me what’s wrong. Even if I can’t help, you should talk about it. And I don’t have any ‘ideas,’ wrong or otherwise.”