A Dose of Murder (21 page)

Today Goldie looked more sophisticated than glitzy.

I could only guess that was Miles's effect on him.

He tapped a half black, half white, high-gloss nail to his tooth. “Suga, I only hope you find someone. Beats the hell out of being alone.”

“I . . . Well , Jagger ate dinner at my parents' house with me last night.” I couldn't lie to my friend. Strangers it was getting easier with.

Goldie sprung forward, his pumps tapping the floor. “You be careful, suga.”

The urge to get defensive rose up but I held it back, knowing Goldie had my best interests in mind. He was more than likely right about Jagger anyway.

The guy was a mystery to me, and I was still too “green” to solve him.

“I'll be careful. So, tell me more about your date.”

In the next ten minutes, Goldie filled me in on all the details right up to their dessert of cherries flambé and stopping just short of going back to his place. Those details I could do without. “I love the way your eyes light up when you talk about Miles like that.”

“What about . . . his ?”

I smiled. “Brighter than yours when he speaks of you.” It was the truth too.

Adele stuck her head in the door. “Hey,
chéri
, how's it going?”

“Great.” I wasn't sure what “it” she meant, but didn't want to elaborate and be wrong.

She held out a manila envelope. “This was just delivered for you,
chéri
.”

“Me? What on earth?”

“Looks like a video,” Goldie said. “Let me freshen our coffees while you pop it in the VCR.” He turned and winked, taking my mug. “Unless it's X-rated.”

Adele plopped onto the couch. “In that case, I'm in.”

We all howled.

“I got some video of Tina last night. This has to have worked . . . A friend lent me a camera.”

Goldie whistled. “I'm impressed. You work a day job and manage to do your surveillance too. Dedication like that will get you far. Fabio eats shit like that right up.”

I hated not being able to tell my friends that Jagger had helped me out, but then I would have had to tell them about my deal with Jagger. I was a truthful person if not a great investigator yet, and always kept my word.

I needn't have worried about telling them about Jagger.

The film of Tina and her husband was surprisingly short, and Goldie said it was a start but not enough to hang her with yet.

Then, clear as a movie in a theater, a picture came on the TV. Sauntering through the woods was Jagger, butt and all.

Adele whistled.

Goldie shook his head and made obscene but joking sounds.

And I sunk down into the zebra chair, wishing I could blend into the stripes, although today I wore pink flowered scrubs.

The thought never left my mind—Jagger had seen the tape too.

The orthopedic office was packed full as soon as the clock struck eight thirty. I wondered why any of the doctors would need to commit fraud, since they had to be making a bundle legitimately. Maybe they weren't involved. That was a distinct possibility, I thought, as Linda came up with a cup of coffee and handed it to me.

I'd had enough caffeine from Goldie's chicory coffee, but I took it nevertheless. “Thanks.”

“I wanted to introduce you to the other doctors. Yesterday was so busy for me that I didn't have the chance.”

Far as I could tell, the woman buried herself in paperwork and never left her office. What did I know about running a private practice? “That'd be nice. I already know Doctor Taylor and, although I haven't seen him here yet, Doctor Macaluso.” Who I'm betting is a lying cheat.

Linda turned down the hall so I followed. In the lounge area that was connected to her office sat a young woman in a white lab coat. Linda turned to me. “Pauline Sokol, this is Doctor Charlene O'Connor.”

Charlene seemed too young to be in private practice. Her black hair was curled around her ears and she wore little to no makeup that I could detect. The woman looked older than her years, and I figured she might have been on call last night and perhaps had been called into surgery. She nodded toward me. “Nice to meet you.”

Linda headed to the coffeemaker and refilled her cup. “Doctor Harvey Feinstein.” She nodded to a man about in his late fifties.

I guessed he was the oldest in the practice. He merely looked at me and nodded. Not a word. Okay, I pegged him as having the old surgeon “God” complex. Next was Dr. Aaron Levy, who greeted me nicely but hurried off, claiming tons of paperwork to catch up on.

I took a sip of the coffee I really didn't want and eyed the two doctors. Looking at them, so professional in white, I found it hard to believe that they or their colleagues were involved in something illegal. Then again, I guessed the prisons were full of criminals who didn't “look the type.”

They both took their coffee and headed to their offices. Eddy came in and got himself a Coke from the refrigerator. “We have ten minutes till showtime,” he said, then laughed.

Linda took a stack of files and went into her office and closed the door, so it was Eddy and me. I looked at him and wondered how helpful he could be. “Linda introduced me to the other two doctors.”

He rolled his eyes. “I'll just bet that made your fucking day.”

I shook my head. “It was nice to meet them. Doctor O'Connor looked beat though. I guess she was on call last—”

“Bitch always looks strung out.”

“Drugs?” I nearly gasped.

“Kids. Single parent with two boys. Pays her ex alimony. What a crock. The guy sells cars and womanizes. Charlene got a raw deal.”

Enough to make her commit fraud? Hmm. “Must be hard on her.”

“Not as bad as old man Feinstein. Four kids in Ivy League colleges. He moonlights in the ER over in Hartford for extra cash. Hates it with a passion. Don't push his buttons.”

Yikes! Another potential criminal. And then there was Donnie with two houses, one a mansion. Oh, great. “Guess we all have our crosses to bear.”

“Give me a fucking break here. The only decent one in the bunch is Vance, as far as I can tell.”

That left Aaron. “What's wrong with Doctor Levy?”

Eddy laughed. “Guy after my own heart. Likes the women. His ex has sucked him bone dry in court, but good old Aaron still finds the bucks to pay for his women.”

I wasn't sure if Eddy meant pay as in dates or pay as in prostitutes. Wow, again. Goes to show how looks were so deceiving. I found it hard to believe that there were so many potential suspects in this practice.

Eddy got up. “Showtime.”

I dumped the rest of my coffee in the sink and stuck the mug in the dishwasher. The lounge was quite complete as far as kitchen facilities were concerned. Linda fit into her office so well you couldn't even see her from this angle.

Eddy went to get his chart, and I picked the top one off of my pile. Thank goodness I was on Vance's side of the office, I thought, as I ushered one of his patients into an examining room.

“What brings you in today?”

Mrs. Bakersfield, an elderly woman with wrist pain said, “Well, the years are hard on someone my age. My hands just don't seem to work as they used to, dear.”

I smiled in what I hoped looked sympathetic and eyed her chart. Eighty-four. I only hoped I'd see eighty-four, let alone have my body parts work correctly. “Are you in much pain?”

“Yes, dear. But that's part of the process.”

I assumed she meant the circle of life, but didn't want to clarify the subject with someone who was so close to closing that circle. “Don't forget to tell the doctor about your discomfort. He can order you something to help.”

“I don't take pills, dear.”

I smiled while giving her credit for being so stalwart, but didn't mention that I took a pill at the drop of a hat when I had pain. Nothing too strong. Mostly Tylenol or monthly Motrin. “Doctor Taylor will be in to see you soon.” I took the chart and headed toward the door.

She said, “He's a real looker. Isn't he?”

You haven't seen Jagger
. I turned around. “He could be in movies.”

She laughed. “He could put his shoes under my bed anytime.”

I joined in her laughter.

“Who could?” Vance asked coming up behind me.

I swung around.

Mrs. Bakersfield giggled then said, “You, dear. You.”

Vance gave her a nice smile and leaned toward me. “I can't make dinner this weekend. How about tonight?”

Tonight I'd hoped to be with Jagger—working. “Tonight? Gee. I'm so tired when I get done here. Guess I got out of the routine.”

“We'll make it an early night.”

And hit the sack? I wasn't sure if I could keep doing that to myself, or to Vance.

“Go ahead, dear. He's a looker!” Mrs. Bakersfield gave me a huge grin. Her dentures slipped in the process. While she nonchalantly and in a very ladylike way slipped them back into place, I said, “As long as I'm back by eight.” I figured that gave me time to do some surveillance on Tina, even if by myself. I had come to realize that I wouldn't know when Jagger would appear or not.

I hurried out and took the next chart. Mr. Steve Marquette. Back pain. Hope he wasn't faking it like Tina. That was one ailment I'd come to realize could be faked quite well. Even if nothing showed up on an X-ray or CT scan, the patient could still be in pain. Soft tissue injuries and muscular pulls. Hard to prove.

I walked toward the waiting room. Eddy was calling out a patient's name. He turned to look at me. “Hey, Sokol, how's it going?”

“Fine, Eddy.”

He waited for his patient to hobble over with her leg in a cast. “Fine? Here? Hell, maybe you should take over for Tina permanently.” He laughed.

“No thank you.” I held up my chart, ready to call out the patient's name.

Eddy leaned near. “You do a hell of a lot better than her fat ass.”

“That's not nice.”

“Hey, you haven't seen her in action. Or should I say non-action. Just 'cause her hubby is a partner here, she doesn't do shit.” He held the door for his patient. “Back injury, my foot.”

My eyes widened. “That's not nice either.” Did Eddy know something? Could he be of help to me?

He started down the hall with his patient. “Neither is fraud.”

Fraud?

Eddy and I needed to talk.

As I bent to look at my chart, I noticed Linda come out of her office. She smiled at Eddy's retreating back, then at me. I hustled to the waiting room doorway and called, “Mr. Marquette,” not wanting Linda to chastise me for not working. Already she was docking my pay for yesterday.

I held the chart in one hand and waited. No one moved. I repeated, “Mr. Steve Marquette.”

There were four woman on one side of the room, an elderly gentleman who didn't look like a Steve and two young boys near the door. One of them could be him. On the opposite wall sat a biker. Chains. Leather. Shades. Wow, I thought. I hope he didn't ride a Harley in this kind of weather. “Mr. Marquette.”

He looked up, then stood.

“Are you Mr. Marquette?”

He nodded.

Great. The guy probably had the IQ of a
p
czki
and it would be a challenge doing his history for the chart. “This way.”

He followed me into the examining room.

I watched him looking at the door and holding a hand to his back. Okay, Pauline Sokol was the epitome of empathy for her patients. Maybe the guy wasn't turnip material after all. Maybe his back pain had him too preoccupied. “So, Mr. Marquette, please take a seat on the examining table.”

He looked at me through the dark glasses. His hair touched his shoulders, much longer than mine. Actually, it partially covered his eyes. A deep blonde shade that was far too light for his dark eyebrows. A growth of beard covered his face and long dangly silver earrings clanged in his left ear.

There was something familiar about him, but I didn't really think I knew any bikers. Course, could have been a friend of Miles or Goldie. My life had gotten too weird lately, and that's why I thought I knew him. Overactive imagination. Had to come from spying. “What brings you here?”

He looked at me for a few seconds.

“Sir, what brings you here to the doctor's office?”

Slowly he lowered his glasses. “Thought you might want to film my butt.”

Jagger!

I could only stare for several minutes. Maybe I should pass out and not have to deal with him—after him mentioning that I filmed his butt. But, I needed to stay conscious since I had to work and get money.

So, I summoned all my strength and said, “Oh, that video thing. I didn't know how to turn off the glasses. Camera. Don't flatter yourself.”

He grinned.

Didn't buy it.

Well, I had too much to do besides get embarrassed and let him enjoy himself at my expense. “I'm guessing your back is fine,
Steve
.”