The Stiff and the Dead (14 page)

“Hey, Hildy. How are you?”

She didn't look up from the cash register. I wondered if all the piercing metal had been weighing down her head. “Fine. Great. Usual shit. Hang it!”

“Hildy, it's me. Pauline.”

She swung around and a faint smile crossed her purple lips. “Oh, hey. It's you.”

I looked around. “Busy?”

She shrugged. “What's new?”

As she said that, Sophie Banko came into the pharmacy. Yikes! I wished I'd had my camera glasses. “I need this filled. I'll add it to the pile on your desk and wait over there.”

Perfect. I could legitimately sit there and study Sophie. With my decent 20/15 vision I could even see what she was here to get.

I aimed my beeper camera at her and pressed the button.

Hildy handed the man at the counter his white bag of medicine, spun around and nearly ran toward me. She snatched the prescription off the top of the pile. “I'll get Leo right on this!”

Then she was gone, and I was pissed. Oh, not at her, but at life. Here I was, making a friend to help my case and her in the process, and now I got preferential treatment, which would get me out of the pharmacy too fast to see the comings and goings of one Sophie Banko.

Pauline Sokol was not born under the brightest lucky star.

I was, however, born determined. So, I got up from Hildy's desk and headed up to the counter. Sophie had a paper in her hand. I looked at her and smiled. “Can I help you?”

Hopefully Leo or the other pharmacist wouldn't come out of the back and ask me what the hell I thought I was doing. I could say I was helping Hildy, but she hadn't returned yet. I pictured her standing over mousy Leo with a whip and a chair until he filled my prescription. Then they'd ask me why I was hanging around here so long. Most of the nurses dropped off the prescriptions, ran back and came to get them later or let the more able-bodied patients come get theirs themselves.

I'd use the excuse that poor Mrs. Wentworth was so stressed that she needed the Zoloft
now.

Sophie gave me the once-over and said, “No. I'm waiting for the pharmacist.”

I worried that she recognized me.

“We ever met?” she said.

“Er. Nope. Okay, then. I'll let you wait.” I stood there, moving a box of carob bars back and forth to look busy. All I could see on her paper was that it looked like a list. What kind it was, I couldn't see. But I kept trying to stand on tiptoe to film her with my beeper.

Didn't think I got much though.

An elderly lady came over and started to chat with Sophie. Perfect. I moved the carob box closer to Sophie's list. Her meaty hand covered most of it, and she held it with a death grip.

The carob bars moved closer.

I heard a noise from behind. Leo was coming! My hand went to grab for the box, but instead, I pushed it.

Carob bars flew off the counter, pelting Sophie's side. The other lady screamed as if the bars would kill a woman of Sophie's size.

“Oh! I'm sorry!” I shouted, still trying to look at the paper, but also reaching for the rest of the bars at the same time.

Leo started to yell.

Hildy hurried over and yanked me away from the chaotic counter. “Get out of here,” she said into my face while shoving Mrs. Wentworth's meds into my hands.

I could only grab the medicine and take one last look at the list. Upside down, I could read the letters.

M,A,C,I,E.

My uncle Walt's name?

I sat in the restroom of the clinic on the toilet seat cover, my cell phone in hand. Problem was, I didn't know whom to call.

Jagger?

Nick?

My logical mind said to call Nick. After all, he was supposed to be helping me on my case. But then again, to be fair, I was helping Jagger. I knew my film from the beeper was lousy. A real waste.

I punched in #1. Jagger's cell phone number.

Now, Jagger's phone number was not only unlisted, but I'm sure even the FBI couldn't find it. He was that elusive. But, on my last case—my first case that is—Jagger had trusted me with his number—once people had been murdered.

I know he wouldn't be upset to have me call now.

“Yeah.”

I jolted back on the commode when I heard his voice. My voice, on the other hand, wouldn't work worth a damn.

“Look, Sherlock, I'm in the middle of something here. You all right?”

My first thought was to listen to the background noise to see if I heard some woman sighing, moaning, or . . . never mind. My second thought was to snap out of it, and I said, “I saw Sophie bringing a list to the pharmacy.”

“What kind of list?”

No female chatter. No giggling.

“Pauline?”

Damn! When Jagger used my real name, he wasn't fooling. Then again, I don't think I've ever seen Jagger fooling around.

But . . . oh, those smiles.

Thinking quickly, I made some fake static sounds. “You're breaking up. Wha . . . what did you say?” Proud of myself, I smiled as I walked out of the stall with the phone at my ear.

Dead silence. Good. He bought it.

A slight breath. Or make that an annoyed breath from him.

Then, secluded alone in the bathroom, I felt my face burning. He never bought my static.

“Okay. I saw Sophie hand a list to . . . Well, she was about to hand the list to Leo. I think.”

Through mental telepathy, I knew Jagger was shaking his head, but not how many times.

“You know, Jagger. One of these days you're going to shake your brains so much, you'll forget who you are.”

No comment.

“Anyway, I saw her get ready to hand the list to him . . . when . . . well, something happened.”

“Throwing carob bars at your suspect is not a bright move.”

My hands flew up to my cheeks again. And here I'd just cooled off. Damn. The cell phone spun in the air and landed smack in the sink. Thank goodness it was dry. On the other end I knew Jagger was again shaking his head—and grinning.

He'd been watching me all along.

Tap. Tap.

“Pauline, you all right?” Josie, one of the nurses, asked through the door.

Shoot. I'd almost forgotten I was at work. “I'll be out in a few seconds. I'm fine. Thanks for asking.” I grabbed the phone and whispered, “Jagger?”

“I don't even want to know what just happened.”

I leaned against the cold porcelain. “I'm surprised you can't see me to know what happened.” What? All I needed was to worry he could see me in the bathroom. I quickly said, “Okay. The only thing I could see on the list was the name Macie.”

“Uncle Walt's name?”

Jagger had befriended my uncle, the car buff, and had even let him take a drive in his SUV. “Yes. Uncle Walt's last name is Macie. Why on earth would she have his name on a list that she's giving to a pharmacist?”

“She must be stealing insurance numbers.”

“Stealing insurance numbers? From my uncle?” “Maybe from everyone at the senior citizens center,” Jagger said. “Leo and maybe the other pharmacists could be filing claims on them, then not filling the prescription.”

“That'd be silly. What would they do with all that medicine?”

“He doesn't actually
fill
them, but gets the insurance claim money and sells the medication to someone else.”

“Wow. How could anyone think of doing that?”

An audible sigh came across the phone. “Maybe you are in the wrong business, Sherlock.”

My heart sank. If I never could have my “fantasy fling” with Jagger, I at least wanted him to respect me as an investigator. He'd given me a few positive comments about my work in the past and, of course, I'd blown them out of proportion in my mind.

“Sherlock?”

He must have noticed my hurt feelings even through the cell phone.

“Look. What I meant was, you are too trusting and honest. You have to think like a criminal to catch them in the act. We need to work on that.”

We.

That simple little word was all I needed to mend my stupid hurt feelings. Jagger had said “we,” and I agreed and said goodbye.

Once I finally left the bathroom, I noticed a few of the nurses staring at me. I guess I'd be pissed off too if I had to do all the work while someone sat on the “throne” and talked on the phone. “But I
was
working!” I wanted to shout to them.

So, I grabbed my next chart and headed to the waiting room, not allowing them to make me feel guilty. After all, I had, of course, gone into the bathroom only when there were no patients scheduled for the next fifteen minutes. Even as an ex-nurse, patients always came first with me.

I finished my shift without any prescriptions to fill. Damn. I got my purse and jacket and thinking I'd at least found out something about Sophie today, I could go to Goldie's and get dressed for tonight. With the dread of Superglue and Vaseline to look forward to, I opened the door to the waiting room—and ran directly into Nick.

Funny how talking to Jagger made me forget Nick and our date tonight. “Oh. Hey.” I fumbled around in my purse for my car keys.

“Anything today?”

Ready to spill that my talk with Jagger was strictly business, I came to my senses and told myself that I didn't need to go into that with Nick. After all, he knew I was working with Jagger anyway. I did tell Nick about the list and little bit of wasted film.

“Hmm. Interesting. I'm thinking you've stumbled upon more than Sophie Banko bilking the insurance company out of just a few thousand.” He gently placed a hand on my shoulder and led me to the door.

I found myself smiling.

Having a real man next to me was way better than a fantasy.

“Suga!” Goldie wrapped his white-silk-draped arms around me and held for a few seconds. He gave me the biggest hug I'd had all day.

When he eased free, I inhaled Estêe Lauder's Beautiful cologne and said, “I think you've been out of work too long, Gold.”

“I'm going nuts here, Suga. How much
Jerry Springer
or
Oprah
can one watch?”

We laughed, and he led me to the living room, which was decorated the same jungle theme as his office. He sat me on a leopard lounge chair and scurried to the kitchen to fix me some hot tea. Through the open door I told him all about my day. The list. The lunch. The lousy luck of shooting carob bars at Sophie Banko.

Goldie screeched, howled, coughed and complained I hurt his throat. When I told him what Jagger had said about my having to think like a criminal, Goldie hurried out of the kitchen, set down the hot tea and gave me another big hug.

“I have to agree with him on that one. You can't be nice in this business, Suga. The crims will walk all over you.”

I took a sip of tea, thanked him for it and nodded. “I know. I know. You two are right, but how do I change a lifetime of honest living to try and catch a criminal?”

He gave me a few suggestions, some too X-rated for my conscience. I finished my tea and decided that if I wanted any dinner tonight, I'd have to hurry up and get dressed like Peggy. Goldie helped me, did the makeup thingy and off I went, forty or so years older.

When I got to my place, Spanky growled at me, and I knew I could fool anyone if he didn't recognize me.

I had to keep reassuring him it was I so he wouldn't take a chunk out of my ankle. He didn't. After a fast chicken-salad sandwich, I was off to Bingo.

Saying little novenas all the way.

Uncle Walt, Helen and Uncle Stash were all sitting at a table together. I looked around and didn't see Sophie but figured she'd be with them, so I headed their way.

Before I reached my seat, I stopped to pull up one knee-high. It had bagged at my right ankle, very senior-citizen-like, but I couldn't stand the feeling. Goldie had gotten me bright pink polyester pants this time with a matching pink-and-white cardigan over a white frilly blouse. The collar buttoned all the way to my throat, and, although tempted, I knew I couldn't leave it open. No woman my “age” would.

I bent down and pulled at my left pant leg to see if that ankle looked like a Chinese shar-pei dog, and a shadow caught my eye. Without standing back up, I noticed the highly polished shoes and heard, “Bellisima—”

I swung up so fast I'm certain my blood pressure crashed, which made me appear right in character of a swooning senior citizen.

I swayed into the arms of Joey the Wooer.

Yikes! For an old man, he had a damn good body. His arms were firmer than mine, for crying out loud. “Oh, Joey. You frightened me.”

“I'm-a so sorry. Here. Come sit.” He pulled out a chair.

With knees still knocking, I slumped into the seat and gave a nod to my uncles and Helen. She kinda sniveled back at me.

A warning, no doubt.

Ignoring her, I turned to Joey. Hey, on principle, she had Uncle Walt and Uncle Stash and should learn to share. Not that I wanted to lead Joey on, but I decided to ignore her threats and be nice to him. “Thank you, dear. I guess I got up a bit too fast. Blood pressure, you know.”

He nodded and sat next to me.

I looked up as Sophie lumbered toward the table. Good. Back to work. “Sit here, Sophie, I saved you a seat,” I said, as she got closer.

Giving me an odd look, she sat down without a thank-you.

No problem. At least I could get to talk to her. She opened her satchel and pulled out all her Bingo gear. I looked around the table and realized I didn't even have a card in front of me, and everyone else had at least six. Oops.

Joey must have noticed too, since he waved to the girl who was selling the cards. She hurried over, and he bought me two.

Damn. He must have known I could only handle two. “Thanks. Here . . .” I opened my purse and took out my wallet.

His hand flew over it so fast I thought he was going to rob me. “Put that away, Bellisima. It is on-a me.”