The Stiff and the Dead (16 page)

Us. Us. Us!

I'd finally been labeled an “us” with a dynamite guy.

Even though Jagger had called he and I a “we” earlier, he'd only meant it as partners.

I took that second glass of wine and sipped until my lips were sore. Then I excused myself and headed to “powder my nose.” As if men didn't know what women really did in the bathroom.

When I opened the door, a woman the size of Sophie nearly plowed me down. Sophie! Despite nearly being squashed, at least the woman reminded me about my job. I waited until a stall was empty, hurried inside and took out my cell phone.

I pressed #1 and waited.

“About time.”

I nearly fell into the commode at the sound of his voice. Who was I kidding? Even over a cell phone with lousy bathroom reception, his voice made me hot.

Damn it.

“I was busy.”

“Right. How's the date going?”

I tried to decipher a tone of jealousy, but, then again, this was Jagger I was talking to. He didn't let you “decipher” anything about him that he didn't already want you to know.

“Fine. Great. Nick's a babe.” My words came out a bit slurred. Good. Maybe Jagger would think Nick could now take advantage of me.

Wishful thinking.

“But that's not why I called.”

“You all right? You sound a bit—”

“I'm not drunk!”

A pause. “I was going to say overtired, Sherlock. Overtired.”

“Oh. No. I'm not tired. Anyway . . .” I had to get him on track here, and it took me a moment to remember why I had called him. “Anyway. I found some information out tonight.”

“Nick's not a gentleman?”

Hmm. Maybe it did bother Jagger that I'd gone out with Nick. “No. I mean yes. Nick is a gentleman. Stop doing that. I found several prescription bottles in Sophie's purse at Bingo.”

I knew he was shaking his head.

“She didn't see me! They weren't her medications, but bottles from some of the men at the senior citizens center. Medications that are PRN.”

“PRN?”

“Oh. Sorry. Only taken when needed. In other words they weren't medications that are life sustaining, like heart meds or blood-pressure meds one would take daily. And the last bottle I saw was—”

“You're breaking up. I'll meet you at your place in an hour.”

Silence.

I'll never know if Jagger cut me off so we could meet up tonight—or because the reception was really rotten.

Back at my condo parking lot, Nick held my car door for me.

I can't remember a guy doing that, ever. He was a babe and a gentleman any girl would go nuts over. Don't get me started on how my mother would vote for him. Vote? More like start a shotgun wedding—aiming the gun at
me.

“Thanks, Nick. It was a wonderful evening.” We walked to my door.

“It was. Look, Fabio gave me a new case that I need to get started on.”

My heart sunk.

I was left in limbo again—with only Jagger to help me. Even with the second glass of wine, I could clearly think about how confused I was becoming.

But before I had time to react, he leaned near and kissed me again. This time my left foot lifted up toward the back of my knee like some movie star. His lips warmed me to the tips of the toes on both feet. He ran his hands up my cheeks and pushed back my hair, all the while keeping his lips on mine.

His tongue touched my top lip.

I pulled back. “I . . . it was a great night, Nick.” Thank goodness Miles had not left the porch light on because then Nick could see the stupid expression on my face.

He gave me a quick peck on the cheek. “I'll call you.”

I touched my cheek—gently—and watched him walk away and drive off—knowing he really
would
call me.

Damn. What a great feeling.

Suddenly someone stepped from the shadow of the giant pine tree that stood near our porch. I gasped, and then let out my best B-movie scream.

A hand covered my mouth! My breath held, then . . . darkness.

“Whaaat . . . what the hell?” Something cool touched my forehead. It rubbed across it. I opened my eyes. Spanky lay nestled next to me on the couch. I looked to see if there was any blood on me or if my attacker had injured me. Nothing hurt.

Then I realized someone had just woken me up from my faint. “Miles?” I turned my head.

“You really have to work on strengthening your instincts,” Jagger said.

I pushed his hand away. Damn, he'd carried me inside while I was conked out. “You scared the shit out of me! Why do you have to lurk in the shadows like some demonic stalker?”

He laughed.

And here I thought Jagger didn't have a sense of humor.

“What if I really were a stalker, Pauline? Or a crazed ex-suspect come to get even with you? You'd faint?”

Damn. I needed to strengthen my instincts and maybe even take Karate. Groaning, I leaned back.

“You scare too easily. I got to the door just as you two drove up and didn't want to interfere.”

My insides weren't sure how to feel about that one. Should my heart sink in disappointment? Should my stomach knot in anger? Or should the common sense part of my brain ignore his comment because Nick Caruso liked me?

I pushed to sit up and swatted away his hand when he tried to help. Poor Spanky was momentarily squashed. I moved over, lifted him and kissed his little head. “I'll take a self-defense course.”

“Not a bad idea.” He leaned back and lifted his legs onto the couch. “Just don't get a gun and go shooting yourself.”

“Aw, Jagger. Thanks for the concern.” I shook my head and curled my lip so he'd notice.

“What else did you find in Sophie's bag?”

For a second I almost asked Sophie who? Then I remembered Jagger was here as part of the case. Plain and simple. “Viagra.”

No change in expression.

“The prescription was in Mr. Wisnowski's name.”

“He was her brother-in-law.”

“I have two brothers-in-law, but I don't carry around their Viagra.”

This time his look took the place of shaking his head. “She must be trading the Viagra for the other prescription meds.”

“What would she do with all that medicine?” I petted Spanky, who leaped off my lap onto Jagger's. Little canine traitor.

“Back to Investigation 101, Sherlock. Why would she do that? Think.”

Ready to tell Jagger to take a flying leap out of here, I realized he was trying to help me. His “bedside manner” stank though, but that was him. I decided to take advantage of his knowledge and learn something. “Let me see.” I tapped a nail to my tooth. “
If
she was related to Mr. W, she might have had access to his house. Then if she stole his Viagra when he died and—” And what? What would she do with it? I know women used Viagra too, but Sophie Banko?

He nodded.

A nod from Jagger was like a gold star from your kindergarten teacher. “Okay. I'm on the right track here. She gets the Viagra and . . . sells it. No wait. Trades it!”

“Why the men's prescriptions in her purse?”

“Maybe she sells them too?” I could mentally hear some buzzer going off as if I'd said the wrong answer on a game show. “No, wait. If she's committing prescription fraud for the money, then she must be doing something with those medications—for money.”

“But what?”

I curled my lip at him again. “You're not going to help me out even a little, are you?”

He got up. “You've caught on so far. We need to follow her every move when she comes into the pharmacy.”

Excited, I jumped up. “Aha! So
you
don't know why either?”

Yes!

I felt like doing a little “happy dance” but held myself under control. The urge died quickly, and the last thing I remember before falling asleep that night was the grin on Jagger's face before he'd left.

The next morning I hurried to get ready for work. Miles had already left, waking me up, thank goodness, on his way out. I'd overslept after my big day yesterday and my big date last night. Well worth staying up past ten.

Facing a birthday next month on March 24 though, I decided I was getting too old to do that much in one day.

I made it to the clinic just in time to call my first patient. The morning went by uneventfully and quickly. The only good part was that tucked inside the pocket of my navy scrubs top were my new camera/glasses.

I was dying to use them.

I ate lunch by myself in the staff lounge and kept thinking about my investigation. What did Sophie do with those PRN medications? Why steal Mr. W's Viagra only to trade it for medication she more than likely didn't use? Was there some way she was getting money from the insurance company from those PRN medications?

I took a bite of my Caesar salad and decided that didn't make sense. I couldn't see how she could file claims on their medications when they were already filled. Damn it. Jagger probably had this all figured out. He was still using me to help prove his case. Interesting, though, how our cases once again overlapped.

I ate the last bite of lettuce. I'll show him. Determined as a toddler reaching for a piece of candy, I got up, cleaned up, headed outside so I could use the pharmacy's front door. I had twenty minutes left of my lunch break.

And I was going to figure all this out before Jagger.

The waiting room was full of people. Hildy was at the desk so I sauntered over. “Hi. Just passing through to the clinic. I have a few minutes. Man, you look busy. Need some help?”

She looked at me with her sad, dark eyes. I think there was a new loop earring in her right eyebrow.

“Hey, Pauline. I'm swamped. Leo's out to lunch and the other pharmacist is out sick today. Bummer. If you could help me file the prescriptions Leo filled before he left, that'd be great.”

I stood by the door to the back of the pharmacy and waited for her to buzz me in. Once inside, I looked around. Just Hildy and one pharmacy tech on duty. Good. She showed me what to do, and I started to stick the little white bags into the bins in alphabetical order.

And I kept looking around for Leo.

With only a few minutes to spare, I cursed to myself. Waste of time. As I stuck Mrs. Zucowski's cardiac medication into the last bin, I noticed a young guy come into the waiting room.

Not just any young guy, but a punk. His hair was redder than my face got when I was embarrassed. He could match Hildy one for one on piercing. And he also sported a dog collar around his neck. Not a fake jewelry one either. A real dog collar.

Damn. I hoped he wasn't here to see Hildy.

But he came up to the desk and waited like any customer. Hildy didn't seem to recognize him. She kept waiting on the elderly gentleman who was asking a million questions about what stool softener worked best. I could see Hildy's frustration reaching the boiling point, so I leaned over. “Go with the generic brand, sir. I'm a nurse. I know it works the best for the price.”

Hildy gave me a look of thanks and rang up the sale.

I turned to the punk. “Can I help you?”

He sneered. “What'd ya have in mind, gorgeous?”

Geez. First Nick, now Billy Idol here was putting the moves on me. How popular was I? I stared him down and said, “Do you have a prescription to drop off?”

He looked around. “Relax, gorgeous. Where's Leo?”

“At lunch, but there is a pharmacy tech here—”

“Forget the tech. I want Leo.”

“Then you'll have to . . . There he is now.” I watched Leo slither in the doorway and get a load of the punk. Leo looked around the room like a frightened spindly legged bird. One with a long beak. Maybe an egret or something like that. Either way he looked . . . damn!

I reached into my pocket and took out my new glasses. When I put them on and pressed the tiny button on top, I had to follow Leo with my head as he walked. He sure as hell looked nervous. I also got a shot of the punk at the same time, and switched on my beeper camera.

Could be my lucky day.

“Hey, Pauline.”

I spun around to see Hildy. “Oh, I was just—”

“Helping. I know. When did you start wearing glasses?”

“Oh. These.” Shit. I took them off. “Old astigmatism. Don't use them as much as I should. I have to get back now.”

“No problem. I have to give these to Leo.” She held a handful of prescription forms.

I nearly knocked her over, grabbing them out of her hand. “I have to go past him. Let me.” I knew she was ready to argue, as well she should, since I really had to go out of my way to pass by Leo.

But Hildy, overworked as usual, just thanked me and started to help another customer. I headed toward the back door, but stuck my glasses on before I got to Leo and snuck to the side of the prescription drop-off desk.

There he stood, talking to the punk.

“I said forty a pop now, kid.” Leo looked as pissed as a “mild nerd” could look. But then again, he appeared almost sinister if it wasn't for his cowlick of a hairdo and the pocket protectors. What was that about? Who wore two pocket protectors?

“Jerk. I could get them for thirty-five—”

Leo turned.

I ducked behind the contraceptive display. With a bit of effort, I shoved two boxes of condoms—Trojan Naturalamb—to the side so I could still keep filming.

The kid grabbed Leo by the collar. “Bastard. Give me three of them.”

Leo brushed his hands away. “If you ever touch me again, Billy, I'll. . .”

Hildy had picked that precious moment to turn up the volume on the intercom. “Mr. Alan Rococo. Your prescription is ready.”

Yikes!

I had the two on film discussing some sale and the kid's name was Billy.
That
I could remember. I couldn't wait to get home and see what I'd filmed.

Or find out what Leo was selling for forty bucks a pop. And, damn, natural skin condoms were expensive.