The Stiff and the Dead (20 page)

Occasionally I'd look up to see Helen nibbling my uncle's ear and would have to take a gigantic sip of wine. When she'd catch me, she'd give me a dagger of a look.

Nick leaned near. “Maybe we should go elsewhere for coffee?”

The pleading tone in his voice had me agreeing.

Before the check came, Goldie took Miles's hand in his and made their “announcement.”

I forced a smile on my face and caught Miles looking at me. I winked.

He excused himself to go to the men's room and nodded to me on the way.

I followed and met up with him in the hallway. “I'm really so happy for you, Miles.” I gave him a peck on the cheek and a huge hug.

“Look, Pauline. I didn't want you to find out like that—”

I touched his lips. “Shh. Nothing makes me happier. And don't worry about me.”

“I won't if you agree to stay. You won't get in our way, and we both love you.”

How tempting. “I know, Miles, but—”

“No buts. If you don't, I won't have Goldie move in.”

“You're not being fair!” To not have to move back to 171 David Drive. Was this a dream or what?

“Let's see how it goes before you make any major changes in your life. I know how you hate change, Pauline. Besides, Goldie can help you with your case.”

And that way I wouldn't need Jagger as much.

I kissed his cheek. “Agreed. For a test run only.”

Feeling as if I were walking on air now that I didn't have to move—yet—I headed back to the table.

Joey had Nick in some kind of death grip!

“Oh my!” I shouted and hurried to the table. I yanked on Joey's arm. “Let him go!”

“Pauline,” Uncle Stash shouted, “let them alone. He's showing Nick some maneuver he learned in the war.”

I'd apologized to both of them, but I know I saw competition in both of their eyes when I'd tried to pull them apart.

I couldn't bear to go for coffee with Nick in this state, so I feigned a headache and settled for calling it a night. What a night.

At the door I turned to him. “Thanks for a wonderful time.”

He looked at me and laughed. “Not exactly what I had in mind.”

I chuckled. “Me either. Guess that's the problem with living in such a small town.”

“Yeah.” He took my cheeks with both his hands.

When he kissed me, I felt my leg start to turn up again, but kept both feet planted on the ground. His lips warmed my already hot face as he gently kissed me.

Wow.

The shimmers were intensifying.

Thank goodness I could still react this way. I even toyed with the idea of asking Nick in—but decided my life was complicated enough at the moment.

Sure I missed sex, but Nick wasn't the kind of guy I wanted a one-night stand with. Or a few nights a week with. Actually, I really didn't want only sex from him.

When he said good night and turned to walk down the steps, I touched my lips and let out a long sigh.

This was way better than fantasizing.

I'd sat and held Spanky for about an hour last night, thinking and thinking. What a dinner that had turned out to be, and what the hell was I going to do about my case? I decided it wouldn't be bad having Goldie living here, and I would do my best to stay out of their way.

Since I loved them both, it wouldn't be hard.

As far as the case went, I figured I wouldn't get to see Sophie at all so I'd have to turn into Peggy tonight. With that thought, I hurried to the clinic.

The morning progressed as usual. I had three prescriptions to fill and ran over with the first one to see Hildy. Out sick again. Damn. One of the pharmacy techs had taken Hildy's job for the day so I decided at the end of the day maybe I should schmooze with her a little to see what I could find out.

“Hope Hildy's not seriously ill.” I sat on the edge of the desk and held out a prescription to her. Her name tag said
MS. WATERMAN.
“No big hurry on this, Ms. Waterman. I know you all must still be in shock about Leo.”

“It's Kathy, and no one on God's green earth is upset about Leo.”

Geez! Did she realize there was a possible murder investigation going on?

“I see. But, I mean, the possibility that he might have been . . . killed.”

Stone faced, she grabbed the prescription out of my hand. “You ever met Leo?”

“Why, only briefly.”

She clucked her tongue at me. “Murder or not, no one will miss him.” With that she turned and walked toward the back of the pharmacy.

I leaned to the side to see her stick the prescription in front of the female pharmacist. I'd never gotten her name since she had only been here a few times, but she looked middle-aged with dark hair, heavy, dark black glasses and stood about as tall as Kathy. I decided I'd leave and tell the patient to come pick up her medication after she took care of her copay at the clinic.

Kathy headed back to her desk. I started to go, and the pharmacist walked toward the counter. I turned and there, in all her large glory, stood Sophie Banko—talking to the female pharmacist.

Oh, my gosh! Sophie was here at the pharmacy, when her stepson had died only yesterday. She really must need her medication badly, was my first thought. A very kind thought indeed, because my second thought was that she didn't care two hoots about Leo and was scamming some more.

Could be a golden investigating opportunity here.

I dug into the pocket of my scrubs and pulled out my glasses. Before I could stick them on and start clicking, I pressed the “record” button on my beeper camera. With having to aim my waist at the two and my glasses at the same time, I figured I could have been a damned good contortionist on the old
Ed Sullivan Show.

A few customers on the other side of the counter got in my way, but I bent and shimmied to the side in order to get a better view. From behind, I heard a shuffling.

Oh . . . my . . . God.

Had someone caught me? What would I use for an excuse?

I swung around and clicked.

“Don't waste your film on me, Sherlock.”

Standing there in a doctor's white lab coat, with short and sassy-looking blond hair, stood Jagger. Make that sexy-looking. Damn it. He wore wire-rimmed glasses and sure as hell looked taller—until I realized I was crouching. Crouching tiger, hidden Pauline. I figured if investigating didn't work out for him, he could make a bundle as a makeup artist or costume designer for films.

“What the hell? Stop sneaking up on me and scaring me, Jagger.” I straightened to see Sophie walking out of the pharmacy. “Damn it. Now she's gone. Soph—”

He put his hand over my lips.

Darn! Broke another rule. I mumbled, “Fraud investigating 101.”

He looked at me. “Common sense. Parking lot in ten.”

I turned to see Kathy staring at us, but when I looked back to warn Jagger, he was gone.

In his wake was the scent of
male.

I leaned against the wall—and sighed.

Then I reminded myself that Nick liked me. Nick actually asked me out. With those thoughts in mind, I hurried to collect my purse and jacket and headed out to my car.

When I looked around the parking lot, I didn't see Jagger's SUV. Well, I decided to just stay there a few minutes—and surely he'd show up. Snowflakes danced about the parking lot as the temperature took a nosedive. I opened my door after one more look around for Jagger and sat inside. Cranking the engine for a few minutes, I waited for the heat to kick in. Winters were my least favorite time of the year, since I was a “ski-school dropout,” twice.

Okay, I jogged, but I'm not exactly athletic. As I pondered the idea of how painful learning to ski had been, my passenger door swung open.

The
real
Jagger jumped in. “Don't you lock your doors?”

“If I did, how would you get in?”

He grinned.

Damn it again. I knew he'd find a way. I shoved the car into drive and took off, assuming we were going to get coffee and talk. When I stopped at the light across from Dunkin Donuts and put on my signal light, Jagger looked at me.

“Go straight.”

“What?”

“Straight. Then take a left onto Pleasant Street.”

I knew better than to argue or tell him that I had actually been looking forward to a hot cup of coffee to warm my insides. But this was Jagger—and this was work. Coffee would have to wait. I guessed he was taking us somewhere that would have something to do with our cases.

“Who lives here?” I asked as we stopped in front of an old, white three-family house. Siding, half falling off, thumped against the house in the evening wind. An old red Chevy sat in the driveway, with one tire looking very much in need of air.

Jagger walked toward the front door.

Not mentioning that he had ignored my question, I hurried behind. When he hit the doorbell to #3, I looked at the name on the mail slot.

Jones. H. Jones.

“Hildy?” I asked as the door swung open to reveal a pathetic-looking Hildy dressed in ripped gray jogging pants, wrapped in an old green plaid blanket and sans jewelry. My God, she looked naked. “Hildy, hi.”

She was barely able to take her eyes off of Jagger. Poor girl. Even with illness fixing her eyes in a glassy stare, she still noticed him. “Pauline?”

“Hi. Yeah.” I coughed a few times, not sure what the hell to say.

Jagger held out his hand. “I'm Pauline's friend, Jake. Nice to meet you. She asked me to bring her here to see if you were feeling all right. I believe she said you'd missed work a few days.”

Hildy took his hand and shook it, all the while staring at him—which I did too.

Jake?

Okay, I decided I better go along with the ruse or else we'd never find out any info about Leo—and Hildy's involvement.

Now I wondered if she really looked sick. Hard to tell, even for me.

“Why, yes, Hildy. Jag . . . Jake brought me here to see how you are. Need anything? Chicken soup?”

Jagger nudged me in the side.

“What?” I whispered as Hildy started to blow her nose. “Chicken soup is a surefire cure for the common cold.”

Hildy stuffed her used tissue in the pocket of her pants. “How'd you know where I lived, Pauline?”

Good question. “Oh . . . I . . . well . . . you know—”

Jagger glared at me. “One of the pharmacy techs told her.”

That was so damn easy for him, and Hildy bought it.

“I'd ask you up, but, well, my place isn't very nice.”

“At least it is warmer than out here,” Jagger said, smiling.

Before I knew it, and I'm sure before Hildy could protest, we found ourselves sitting in her pathetic living room. Being on the third floor, the heat congealed in the tiny rooms, making me feel as if I'd suffocate. Old pipes clanked, the wind howled through window cracks, and Hildy kept sniffling and sneezing.

I knew I'd end up with a cold, if she really had one. Hard to tell if it was real or not, since sometimes the sneezing sounded fake.

“So, how do you feel?” Sure the question was stupid, since she looked as if the cat had not even wanted to drag her in, but I'd asked anyway.

Again Jagger's head-shaking thing. Once. I was ready for two though.

I wanted to smack him, but instead turned to Hildy. “Do you need anything?”

“Naw. My stomach couldn't handle it.”

Stomach. I thought she had a cold. “So, nothing you need?”

She chuckled, a pathetic, cold-camouflaged chuckle. Poor thing.

“Sick pay would be nice.”

“You don't get paid when you are out sick?”

“Not yet. I haven't worked at the pharmacy long enough, and Leo is such a shit he wouldn't bend the rules for me.”

“Was,” I said nonchalantly.

Hildy gave me an odd look. “What?”

Jagger looked about ready to interrupt, but I said, “Was. You meant Leo
was
such a shit.”

“No, he still is a shit,” she said amid sneezes.

Jagger poked me in the side.

“Ouch!” I turned to him, but he silenced me with a look. He and my mother were pips with those eyes of theirs.

He looked around the room, then at Hildy. “You don't get a daily paper, do you?”

“Excuse me? I can just about afford electricity.”

“I didn't mean anything by it.” He shifted in his seat, causing his leg to brush my thigh.

Whoa, boy.

Nick asked me out. Nick asked me out. Nick
asked
me out.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I said, getting annoyed, partly 'cause of my body's damned reaction to a little leg brushing.

“What I meant was, you haven't seen the newspaper today or read the obituaries.” He didn't even look at me.

Fine.

Hildy said, “Never read them. Too many of my customers end up there eventually.”

“Hildy,” Jagger said. “Leo ended up there.”

I thought she looked pale when she'd first opened the door, but what little color was there now drained out. Hildy really looked shocked. Good. Not only didn't she know about Leo's death, she hadn't had anything to do with it.

As I leaned back to relax, Hildy excused herself to go find a new tissue.

Jagger watched her go, took his handkerchief, and then opened the drawer to the coffee table in front of us.

I grabbed his hand. “What the hell are you doing?”

He looked at me.

I let go, but waited for an answer.

“Investigating, Sherlock. The reason we came here? Investigating?”

“For what? She said she didn't even know Leo was dead.”

Head shaking, again. “And you think a
killer
wouldn't
lie
?”

“No, but—” Flustered, I shook my hand in the air. “But, Hildy said.”

Jagger reached over, took a tissue from Hildy's end table and lifted a prescription bottle out of the drawer. “Digitalis. What's it for?”