Dead on Arrival (9 page)

“Well, maybe Pansy will now have a staff of dedicated workers. She certainly didn't need to convince them of anything.” I stopped and took Jagger's arm. “Hey, you think she did that on purpose?”

“Did what?”

“You know. Said those horrible things about her brother because, one, she knew how they all felt. Two, she figured she'd earn their undying loyalty since her brother wasn't coming back. And three, she's a damn good actress
or
maybe she killed her own brother!”

Jagger looked at me for a few seconds while the others got closer. He leaned near and said, “Hm. I hadn't thought of that.”

I slugged his arm. “You're full of shit.”

I know that I never would think of anything case-related before Jagger, but I was thrilled and proud of myself for thinking of something that he already had.

Baby steps. Baby steps to a successful career as an investigator.

Before anyone walked past us, Jagger led me to the front door, which was opened as if Pansy was welcoming everyone into her home for a real celebration.

“Pansy,” I still called out while Jagger guided me inside as if he didn't think that was necessary.

When we walked through the beautiful Tudor-style entryway and came directly into the living room—Jagger grabbed my arm, which was a good thing.

When I looked at the scene before us, my screaming kept me from rushing forward to do something about it—or passing out and breaking something important.

“Oh, Lord. Talk about déjà vu,” I said as Jagger held me by the shoulders, and among the other mourners now gasping and screaming, I looked at Pansy, sitting in a lovely hunter green brocaded armchair—with a knife sticking out of
her
chest. Blood pooled on her lap as if some kind of catch basin. There was an enormous amount too.

Ashamedly all I could think of was how she and Payne sure were clones of each other.

One of the newer EMT women stepped forward and checked for a pulse then looked at the crowd and shook her head.

Lilla said, “Oh my. I shall call 911.”

I wanted to say “don't bother” since there were plenty of paramedics and EMTs here to do something, but, again, an ambulance could not transport a dead body, and by all appearances, Pansy fell into that category. So, the cops were the next logical step.

“Everyone just leave,” Sky said as he, Mario, and ER Dano tried to clear the room.

The morbid rubbernecking continued as nearly everyone had to take a look at Pansy, make a comment (usually negative like the ones about her brother), and turn and walk out, most of them shaking their heads.

“Working here is starting to scare me,” I said to Jagger.

“It is getting a bit odd. I'll see what Lieutenant Shatley has to say. I'm guessing he'll take this case since it will tie in with Payne's murder.”

After a few “Eternal rest, grant unto her O Lord” prayers in my head, I looked at Pansy then grabbed Jagger's arm.

“That is the same kind of knife,” I muttered. “That was used on her brother. I'm not a cutlery expert, Jagger, but I vividly remember the other one, and that is the same handle as if it came from a set.”

He looked at me and smiled. “Good job, Sherlock.” Despite the dead body in the room, I was thrilled. Hey, Jagger compliments were few and far between.

When he started to walk toward the door, I looked over at Pansy's body.

And her eyelids fluttered!

Now being a nurse I knew that a dead body still sometimes twitches, but Pansy's eyes fluttering were not a twitch.

“Jagger! Dano! She's still alive!” I shouted and rushed toward her.

They hurried over along with Sky, Mario, Buzz, and even Lilla who was mumbling in French.

Dano grabbed her hand. “Still warm.”

Wow. Even though that EMT had checked for a pulse, and with Pansy's gray pallor and rigid posture, we all thought there was no point in trying to treat her. And now this.

Pansy Sterling had appeared dead!

Either she was a damn good actress or some miracle had just occurred—and it just wasn't her turn to die.

Before I knew it, the crackerjack staff had her on a stretcher, an IV running, and packing around the knife so as not to jiggle it on the way to the hospital. We all knew not to pull it out, or she could bleed to death.

Jagger was on the phone to Shatley who said he would be here in minutes but that Pansy had to be moved first. Everyone was to vacate the crime scene so when Jagger got off the phone, he led me to the porch where he looked at me. “Could be the break that we need.”

At first I was appalled that he'd be talking case here, but then again, we needed to get it solved soon before someone else was stabbed…

Or make that
I
was stabbed since I'd already been threatened. Suddenly I had a thought. If Pansy had been stabbed too, then she wasn't involved in Payne's death. Being a sibling of five kids, two sisters, two brothers, I was relieved to think that a sister hadn't killed her brother.

I nodded to Jagger. “Hopefully she can tell us who did this to her.”

Before Jagger could answer, sirens filled the air as ER Dano and Buzz drove Pansy to the hospital, and the police showed up simultaneously.

Never a dull moment in this business
, I thought.

Out in the parking lot, I said to Jagger, “Hope we make it to the hospital before she…you know.”

He merely looked at me, and I guessed he was thinking the same thing that I was. Pansy might have dogged a bullet—but would it ricochet back and get her? She really didn't look all that good when they shipped her off.

I jumped into Jagger's Suburban and slammed the door. He'd taken off out of the parking lot before I could click my seatbelt, so I said a silent prayer that Pansy lived. And not just because I needed her.

Jagger drove faster than usual, and for some reason, maybe because he was Jagger, I wasn't worried we'd get pulled over by one of Hope Valley's finest. If we did and they saw Jagger, I'm certain they would have nodded, smiled, and let him go.

I just knew it.

When Jagger pulled into the parking lot, I noticed ambulance #456 still in the driveway of the ER. Dano, Buzz, and Sky had taken Pansy even though Sky was a pilot. I figured he was doing his part.

We parked and got out, hurried toward the Emergency Room door, and went inside.

Staff bustled about, running in and out of Trauma room #1. Pansy. Had to be. There was a blackboard on the far wall, which listed patients, their conditions, time of arrival, and a few other needed tidbits. I was thrilled to see her name there instead of erased off.

“Think they'll let us talk to her?” I asked, looking at Jagger and knowing full well he'd get us in somehow. I saw several police walking in the hallway near the room and figured they'd get first crack at questioning, but we wouldn't be far behind.

Because, of course, Jagger was Jagger.

Nurse Grosch hurried past us with a “Hey, Pauline,” and headed into Room #1. The few times I'd been here with ER Dano, I did get to meet several of the staff. Maybe that would help. I noticed one of the EMT woman, Jennifer Shelton, who obviously had been on duty during the memorial service. She stood near the main desk, talking to one of the nurses. Kim Gonzalez. I remembered her from when we'd brought in the phone chord around the neck lady.

“Excuse me,” I said to Jagger, who looked a bit surprised. Good. At least he'd realize I had a brain and could work my cases alone too. I walked toward the two women who were now talking with the receptionist whose name tag said Nancy Pringle.

The receptionist looked up. “May I help you?”

Dressed in my little black dress she probably didn't remember me as part of the team of TLC Ambulance. “Oh, hey, Nancy. I'm Pauline. A nurse. I was here with ER Dano the other day.”

Kim looked up. “Hi. Sorry to hear about Pansy.”

Hm. According to that segue, my prayers were answered pretty darn quickly today. “Yes, a real shock. How is she?”

She and Jennifer looked at each other. Wow. What the heck? Was there something going on here or was Pansy already gone?

“I'm not working that room, but the staff is still in there. So, that's a good sign,” Kim said.

I nodded and leaned toward her. “Look, is there any chance that I can get in to see her?”

All three looked at me as if I were nuts. Jagger stood behind the desk, and his expression wasn't far off from theirs.

I ignored him and tried to think of a lie. Again, that was not my forte. Nothing. I had nothing. What could I say that wouldn't cause suspicion of my asking?

“Why?” Nancy asked.

Oh, well. That was not unexpected
, I thought. “I…er…ah…just want to see how she is. I mean, I work for her, you know.”

They looked around the bustling ER. No one else from TLC was there other than Jennifer and her partner who must have delivered another patient here.

“I know no one else is here to check, but Pansy was a wonderful woman.”

Someone grabbed my arm and yanked me to the side. I turned to look at Jagger, who managed to shake his head at me while pulling me down the hallway. Over my shoulder I said, “Give her my regards,” and turned to push Jagger's hand off my arm. “What the hell are you doing?”

He looked at me, and I knew he wanted to ask the same thing of me—and understandably so.

“Okay. Okay. Can't you give a girl kudos for trying?”

“Trying? How many employees of TLC do you see here? And how many would actually come here with the reputation of the Sterling bosses? None, Pauline.”

He was correct. I knew it. In all the shocking happenings of today, I wasn't really thinking clearly, but telling that to Jagger would be a moot point. He didn't do sympathy very well, and that was the
last
emotion I'd want from him anyway.

“I get it.” I refused to say I was sorry though.

“Let's go get a coffee,” Jagger said, walking toward the sign for the cafeteria.

“But what if?” I paused. “If Pansy dies, we would have missed our chance, but the cops surely would have found out something if Pansy ever came to enough to answer. “Never mind,” I added even though Jagger wasn't even paying attention to me.

In the cafeteria, we got in the short line behind Buzz. “Hey,” I said. “How was she when you brought her in?”

At first he looked at me as if he didn't know me. Had to be the damn black dress. Why was it that no one knew me unless I was decked out in my hated scrubs? Had they all only related to me as Nurse Pauline? Damn!

Jeremy seemed to finally recognize me, and while he started to talk, I found myself looking around for Dano. Oh, Geez. And with Jagger only feet away. Then again, I shared a few kisses with him, but he'd never made any attempt at asking me out so no way was I beholden to him.

No way.

Jeremy sighed. “She was in bad shape. Great deal of blood lost. But when they hooked her up, she did have normal sinus rhythm, although also tachycardia.”

“I'd certainly imagine her heart would be pumping faster with a blood loss.” Jeremy knew this, but I figured my simple explanation would cause him to relax with me and realize that I knew medicine.

“Yeah. Blood loss.” He turned to the girl behind the counter. “Hotdog platter.”

Suddenly I realized none of us had eaten. There was probably a huge buffet of sorts at Pansy's house. Maybe the cops would eat it. I smiled to myself and looked around to see Jagger…gone.

Things like that didn't even faze me any longer.

After more chitchat with Jeremy and with the departure of Jagger, I followed Jeremy to his table—where Dano sat.

My hands started to tremble.

My heart started to beat a bit faster although not in tachycardia.

And my voice came out a husky tone when I said, “Hey, Dano.”

Even I was impressed with it, and by the looks of him, he was too.

Good since Jagger was gone.

“May I join you?” I asked.

Jeremy said, “Of course” at the same time Dano said, “No need for an invitation.”

Hm. Did that mean I was always welcome to sit with him ‘cause of our kiss or ‘cause I was an employee of TLC?

I was going with the kiss.

When I sat, I asked, “Have you heard how she's doing?”

Dano shook his head. “We usually don't get reports from the ER staff.” He sounded a bit pissed, and I wondered if that was because Pansy was an employee, or Dano had another reason why he wanted to know, too, if she was going to make it.

Hopefully that reason was because she was a human being and deserved to live like everyone else.

And nothing dreadful.

I hung around the ER until the looks of the staff indicated they wanted to throw me out. After way too much small talk, Nancy even tried to look busy instead of talking to me. When Ted Grosch came out of Pansy's room, I asked how she was doing. He said, “She'll be off to surgery soon. Still alive but barely,” then hurried off.

But barely. Damn.

Two of the cops stood by the doorway and started to look at me suspiciously. Of course they didn't know who I was, and Shatley was no where to be found, so I figured I better hightail it out of there before I was questioned as a suspect! Only Shatley knew I worked with Jagger. That was my cushion to fall back on and keep me from possible incarceration. There was that breaking and entering time….

When I got to the doorway, I realized Jagger had abandoned me. Damn it. Pulling out my cell phone, I stepped to the side while another ambulance company brought in an obviously “in labor” woman, who was cursing at her husband non-stop.

I winked at her and punched in Goldie's number. “Hey. I need a lift from the ER.”

First, in his usual way, he shrieked until I hollered into the cell to calm down. “A case, Gold. I'm fine.”

“Oh, good. I'll swing by to get you, but I'm meeting Miles for lunch at Madeline's. You'll, of course, join us.”

I couldn't even use the excuse that I was not dressed up enough for the swanky, the only swanky, restaurant in Hope Valley. Sitting by the Connecticut River and having a Coors Light might be just what the doctor ordered right now. “I'm in,” I said, to Goldie's delight, and I leaned against the wall to wait.

Miles hugged me as if we were long-lost buddies instead of roommates who saw each other this morning. “I'm thrilled you can join us.”

I always felt as if I were interrupting a romance with these two, but that was my take on it—not theirs. I knew that much but still always wanted to give them some space. But I was famished now, dressed to kill, and had nowhere else to go but home to flop on my bed and contemplate a horrible day.

“This turned out perfect,” I said, following the hostess as she made small talk with Goldie, whom just about everyone knew, and showed us toward a table with a water view since Goldie had insisted on as much for his “Suga'.”

The woman set the menus down on the table, turned and stepped to the side, holding the chair for Goldie.

He smiled, turned to sit, and gasped.

Miles leaned near, looked up to where Goldie was looking, and said, “Shit.”

Confused, I turned to see what the big deal was—and froze.

Sitting across the room was Jagger, still in his fantastic suit. Still looking like a GQ model from Testosterone Heaven, and still not noticing me.