Worked to Death (Working Stiff Mysteries Book 2) (11 page)

The lab work was what I enjoyed the most, but there was no way I was going to turn down this opportunity.

"Yes. I accept. Thanks." I stood up and leaned forward to shake his hand.

He stared down at my hand as if it were a weapon. He wasn't big on personal contact without the proper hazardous materials-type protection on. "No thanks necessary," he said, not taking my hand.

I pulled it back and then stared down at my own hand to see if there was something obviously yucky about it.

"I'll get all of the paperwork sorted here before I leave, and you do whatever you need to do to be sure that you're available full-time starting on Monday," he said, repeating the information that I had a full-time job, and my brain continued to try and compute it.

"Okay, will do." I thought about how Paget would start back to school on Monday as the holiday break would be officially over. This would be an interesting new dynamic for us.

"Before you officially accept, I have to tell you that the position doesn't pay much," he said, his voice lowered.

"I'll take it," I said quickly.

He gave me a look of consternation.

But there was no way this opportunity was going to anyone else. I could still work a nightshift somewhere else if I needed extra cash. This was exactly what I'd hoped for when I'd decided to stay in Millbrook.

"Go on home and get some rest. Enjoy these last few days with your sister and turn in notice at your other job. I'll leave a detailed list of instructions for you on Monday." He reached down into his desk drawer and extracted a small envelope. He slid it across the desk. "Here's your key to the building and the security code."

I took the small package and pulled it to my chest, cradling it.

"You don't know how much this means to me. Will I get to meet the owner and thank him?" I realized that I'd never met the owner and had no idea who even owned the lab.

He looked down at his calendar as if it held the secrets of the universe. "I guess you'll find out."

I waited for him to continue, but that was all he said. He didn't look back up.

Mysterious much?

"She's tougher than a two dollar steak." —Things We Say in the South

I stood in the break room for a few moments staring down at my tiny envelope. I had so many questions and so much excitement running through me that I couldn't sit down. I'd thought about jumping in my car and heading home to tell Ms. Lanier my news. Or racing over to the Owens' house and hugging Paget until she couldn't catch her breath. I even picked up my cell phone to call Penny. I wanted to share this with someone. But then I remembered that she'd left O'Hannigan's a little miffed at me last night and calling her with good news seemed rude somehow.

Plus there was the fact that I had a date with Devon in less than an hour, and since it was right down the strip mall from the clinic, it seemed silly and a waste of expensive gas to leave now. But, Mr. Andrulis had told me to take the rest of the day and the weekend off, and I'd clocked out so as to avoid his wrath.

I wasn't about to risk my new opportunity, so I stayed in the break room and paced. It gave me time to think about all the things that had been happening in my life for the past twenty-four hours.

I heard the front door chime sound, and heavy footsteps followed. A moment later, Mr. Andrulis' silent feet reached the lobby as I heard him greet the arrival.

"Yes, sir, how may I assist you today?"

"I'm here to ask that a test be canceled."

I recognized the voice. It was Randall Jamison. He'd come in yesterday and asked me to draw blood and run a test on his DNA with that of his youngest daughter.

"Well, unless you had your blood drawn today, sir, it has either already been processed or it's been sent to another lab to be processed. I'm afraid there is little I can do to stop it now. You'll still be responsible for payment."

Leave it to Mr. Andrulis to always keep his eye on the bottom line. No wonder the owner loved him. He was always about making money and not wasting a penny.

"I don't care about the money, little man. I don't want those results published." Randall's voice sounded intimidating and just a hair shy of threatening.

Mr. Andrulis' voice never changed. "Sir, I don't know what you mean by 'published,' but all the results in this lab are held in the strictest of confidence. We will notify you when the results are in, and you can determine whether you wish to obtain a copy. Or we can hold them on file here indefinitely."

Silence fell on the office. It was a sort of standoff. I thought about interceding. I knew Randall Jamison well. He and my father had been the best of friends since high school. He'd been there for me after my parents had died.

But something told me to stay out of it. I wasn't sure why, but there was a niggling in my brain that warned me to just hold tight.

"Listen, you little… I want the test canceled. I want that specimen destroyed, and I want confirmation that the test was not run. If I don't get that by close of business today, I'll have a court order in here so fast that it will make your head spin."

Randall's voice rose to a level that made me uncomfortable. And I knew that staying out of it was no longer an option. It might irk Mr. Andrulis, but his all-business demeanor was not going to fly with Randall over something this emotional.

Some things in life just needed a woman's touch, and that's all there was to it.

"Mr. Jamison. Is that you?" I called out from the hallway. Plastering a full-fledged Murrin-charming smile across my face as I walked up to greet him in the lobby.

Mr. Andrulis turned toward me, and I could feel his irritation, but I kept my eyes on Randall.

His face that had been scrunched up and his finger that was pointing both dropped. He looked immediately more relaxed.

"Mandy, thank goodness you're here. This pipsqueak won't listen to me. You know how important this is." His eyes bore into mine. I knew desperation when I saw it.

"Yes, I know. I'll be glad to check into it and see what I can do. Would you like some water, while I make a few calls?"

He reached up and loosened his tie a notch. "Yes, that would be just great." He took a seat in one of the small waiting room chairs.

Mr. Andrulis opened his mouth to speak, but I gave him a quick shake of the head, which thankfully he abided by. He muttered something under his breath and marched down the hallway. I followed after him, but didn't stop in his office as I think he was expecting. Instead, I went back to the break room and fetched a cold, bottle of water from the mini fridge.

Returning to the lobby, I handed it to Mr. Jamison, who drank it greedily and wiped his brow with his monogrammed handkerchief.

"I'll be back as soon as I know something. Okay?" I said in the sweetest tone I could muster.

He nodded at me and drank some more water.

I returned to Mr. Andrulis' office and closed the door behind me.

"We may have a problem," I told him. He was reaching for the phone as I spoke.

"Yes, I know. I'm calling the police." He put the receiver to his ear.

"No, don't do that. Let me call the Lab Sensitiva in Montgomery and see if they've run the test. We might be able to get it pulled. I'm sure he'll pay for it either way."

He started to dial the number. "No, this is against the clinic policy. We can't just willy-nilly charge people when we don't run tests. We can't lie about results and change things around. We follow procedure Mandy, no matter what."

"Mr. Andrulis… Chuck?"

The sound of his first name in nickname form caught his attention. His finger hovered over the buttons. I'd never called him this before, but since I'd just been appointed to clinic manager, I figured it bought me some kind of privileges.

"Would you please let me handle this? I know this man. I grew up around him. This test is a paternity DNA screening, and there are a lot of emotions involved. Please don't make the matter worse by calling the police."

He studied my face for a moment and then hung up the phone.

"You are going to be accountable for this. I hope you don't lose your new job before you've started it."

I let out a breath of relief.

I hoped I hadn't just screwed up the opportunity of a lifetime.

*  *  *

A half hour later, I had found out that the test was already in the process of being run and there was no way to stop it. I'd asked Mr. Jamison to accompany me next door to the Tipsy Turtle to give him the bad news.

I bought him a drink at the bar and told him about my promotion. I told him that I'd personally handle his results and that I'd keep them between the two of us.

After half a bourbon, he seemed to have calmed down, and I guess he trusted me. Because he patted me on the back and told me that I was a good girl and that my father would have been so proud of me today.

"Thanks, Mr. Jamison. But, I have to ask, has something changed? Why the sudden urgency to cancel the test when you were so upset about the situation yesterday?" I knew that I risked setting off his wrath again, but my curiosity was killing me.

"I had another chat with my wife last night. She assured me that Bitsy was mine and that her affair with Mick was a onetime thing a long time ago. She assured me of that. Today, I made a decision to trust her." He placed his elbow on the bar and rested his head in his left fist.

"Mandy, I think that when you've been married this long, you get to a point where you can't see yourself with anyone else. To tell you the truth, I'm scared to find out. I love that kid, and what if I find out bad news? Will I ever be able to look at her the same again?"

I watched his face in the mirror above the bar. He looked sad, distraught, and just plain frazzled. No wonder he hadn't reacted with calm professionalism when he'd encountered Mr. Andrulis.

"Mr. Jamison, do you think it is odd that this whole thing about your wife's affair with Mick came out at a weird time?"

He took another sip of his beverage and then swirled the ice around in his glass with his fingertip. "What do you mean? Is there ever a good time for something like that to come out?"

I ran my fingers through my hair and then pulled my long hair around my chest as if to cover my ugly, bruised neck.

"I mean. Mick was found dead just yesterday, and that was the day you came into the clinic." I was trying to ask about his knowledge of Mick's death without accusing him of foul play, but I must not have done a good job because he slammed his glass down on the bar a little harder than was necessary.

"Mandy, his death had nothing to do with this. You know me better than that, don't you?" He made eye contact with me, and I studied his bloodshot eyes.

"I know you, Randall. But I also know that jealousy and fury can make people do things that they'd never normally do. "

He turned to face me. "Mandy, I had nothing to do with his death. I didn't even know about the body until this morning's paper. In fact, that prompted me to have another conversation with my wife. My daughter overheard us talking, and she went into hysterics. "

"Bitsy went into hysterics?" I asked, trying to envision why the eight-year-old would react so over the top.

"No, not Bitsy. Teensy. She had a complete, on the floor sobbing kind of meltdown. I thought it was damned strange. But you know teenagers. It's like an alien has come in and taken possession of their bodies." He finished off his drink and stood to leave, dropping a bill on the bar.

My mind swarmed with thoughts. Why would Teensy have acted so dramatically? This whole thing was like a plate of spaghetti noodles—twisting and turning and mixed together. I'd never sort it out. It kept slipping through my grasp at every turn.

But thoughts of teen-aged angst exited my brain as Randall left the bar, and I watched behind me via the over-the-bar mirror as the newest object of my twenty-something angst entered in his wake.

Officer McHubba Hubba was here.

*  *  *

"I'm glad you ladies made it home safely last night, but I wish you had called me this morning," was how he greeted me as he slid onto the barstool that was probably still warm from Randall.

"Good afternoon to you, too," I said, forgetting how dreamy he looked in his jeans and plaid shirt, which were rolled up his sizeable forearms. So far he wasn't winning any points in the getting-to-know you part of our relationship.

"I'm sorry, but to hear about your morning incident when I stopped by the office and read the blotter was not the way I like to hear about these sorts of things. Not when it comes to someone that I…care about." His pause before the word
care
was interesting.

"Care about? We just met yesterday. And our meetings in the last twenty-four hours have been anything but smooth." Giving guys a hard time was probably why I was still so perpetually single.

He motioned for the bartender. "I'll have a mug of whatever you have on tap, and the lady would like to order a chocolate lava something." He cast his eyes over at me, and I nodded.

The bartender disappeared for a moment.

"I'm impressed that you remembered," I said.

"I never forget a beautiful lady and her likes and dislikes." He cast a dangerous smile in my direction, and a little trickle of heat flamed on my cheeks.

"Wow. You're trying to cast a whole new light on yourself today, huh?" I teased him.

"Yeah, well, I have ground to make up for. We had a couple of run-ins yesterday, and then the whole bar scene. And now, I see that you've had a rough morning." He motioned to my neck.

I raked my hair back around the open collar of my shirt. "It's okay. I had a real doctor check it out and everything." My words must have sounded a little defensive because he held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Not going to pursue that line of questioning, ma'am." He took his beer and watched my face as I began to drool over the Tipsy Turtle's Chocolate Lava Cake that had been placed before me.

It was a two-layer cake with about an inch-thick layer of chocolate icing. It had a middle layer of cream cheese and a drizzling of cream trickling down over the sides. I thought about leaning forward and burying my face in the middle of my slice, but figured that it wouldn't be ladylike and this was kinda sorta a date. Plus my Aunt Patty had raised me better than that. I should really save the diving head first into desserts for our third date, at least.

"My grandmother tells me that you're a doctor." He sipped his beer slowly.

I chewed through my second mouthful of cake. "Well, I am just one semester short of getting my medical degree. I hope to get that sometime this year. If I can work it out." I took another bite.

Timing the bites in between responses was crucial.

"That's really impressive. I'm sure your parents would have been really proud of you."

I stopped chewing. "Ms. Maimie told you about all that, too?" I felt a little exposed.

"Yeah, sorry. You know how she likes to chatter, and I guess I picked up on a few important details about you over the last couple of weeks." He seemed embarrassed.