Dead on Arrival (13 page)

Until Jeremy turned around. “I have to use the John.”

Lilla and I looked at each other, and the only thing I could wonder was, did I look as beautiful as she did with a horrified look on my face?

This time, Lilla grabbed my arm and yanked me into the shower stall and pulled the curtain to the side. Now all I could wonder was, could someone see a shadow through a white plastic, hospital curtain?

While a quick prayer flitted through my brain, I heard the door open, shut, and another sound which had Lilla and I raising our eyebrows but allowing that to be our only movement.

The John flushed.

The water ran in the sink.

And the door opened again.

Lilla and I let out our breaths.

“Who's there?” Jeremy asked.

And I think I my entire world went black.

Not even Lilla's or my eyebrows moved. We remained like statues while Buzz asked nervously, “Is someone there?”

“Jeremy, come on. I have to get to duty,” Kim called out.

“I thought I heard someone,” he said.

Kim must have walked closer as her voice grew louder. “With all the noise these machines make, of course you're hearing things. Let's go. Unless you think this place is haunted?”

All three women laughed, and I pictured Jeremy blushing. He'd have to leave without another word in order to save face.

Thank goodness for the male ego.

Lilla and I waited until we heard the shuffling of footsteps grow dimmer, the door open, and then shut with a click.

She started to touch the shower curtain, but I held her hand and whispered. “Not yet. They'll still be outside the door taking off their isolation garb.”

She nodded.

After what seemed like a safe passing of time, we stepped out, looked cautiously around, and then went to Pansy's bedside.

“I wonder if she heard all of that? Or any of that.”

Pansy's eyelids fluttered. Her hands seemed clenched tighter than before—almost as if she were angry.

“She looks different,” Lilla said.

I nodded. “Um. I wonder if that was too much confusing stimuli for her.”

“Ah, yes. True.”

“We should go,” I said and took one look at Pansy. Her lips started to twitch. Suddenly I wondered if she were about to seize. A grand mal seizure would bring a gang of staff in if her heart rate soared on the monitor. “Let's get the hell out of here.” We locked arms as if that would make us invisible. When I said goodbye to Pansy, reminding her who we were, Lilla added, “Too damn bad we didn't find out whom she used that chair with. Her
lover
chair.”

I opened the door, Lilla walked out first with me directly behind and still holding it open.

And Pansy mumbled, “Sky….”

Once Lilla and I had made it safely out of Pansy's room, we hurried to the elevator, hopped on, and looked at each other.

Simultaneously we said, “Was Pansy in love with Sky?” Only it sounded more interesting with Lilla's wonderful French Canadian accent then my Connecticut no accent.

But I still repeated over and over. “Sky. Sky. Sky?” as the doors shut. Thank goodness we were alone. “Sky and Pansy. Eeeeeeyew.” We looked at each other and made disgusting faces.

“She certainly does not appear to be the pilot's taste,” Lilla said.

I shook my head. “I know. Interesting though. Maybe he wanted a raise?” I chuckled, and Lilla looked at me. Sometimes I forgot that foreigners did not get some American sense of humor. Okay, make that my sense of humor as evidenced by Lilla right now and many of the foreign doctors that I used to work with there.

“What does ‘wanted a raise mean,'
chérie
?”

I explained that maybe Sky slept with Pansy so she'd treat him better than the other employees. Maybe he was using her. “But what did Pansy get out of it other than…” My face burned as I looked at Lilla. “Okay. He is one hot tamale. Guess they both had their agendas.”

When the elevator stopped on the Central Supply floor, we hustled out and hurried to the door.

“Pauline? Pauline Sokol?” I heard but grabbed Lilla by the arm and yelled, “Nope!” to Janet—who used to be my boss.

I dropped Lilla off at TLC, noticed Jagger's SUV was not in the parking lot so he wasn't on a run with ER Dano, and decided I needed a powwow with none other than my buddy, Jagger, so I called his cell and said, “Meet me at the office,” into a voicemail message, which he never answered.

When I drove toward the old building, which held Scarpello and Tonelli Insurance Company, a thought flittered through my brain. Was Jagger's last name really Tonelli, and did he really have any ownership in this…oh…my…God.

Airbrush Lady drove out of the parking lot in a hot pink Mercedes—obviously special ordered, as I'm sure the folks at Mercedes-Benz had never made that color before. Didn't seem to fit in with the original German-classy style.

She didn't notice me, or maybe ignored me was more like it, but I turned in, and fuming for no reason, pulled into a space near Goldie's yellow Camaro. I needed a good dose of Goldie right about now.

A real big dose since Jagger's SUV sat at the end of the parking lot.

I got out, went inside, had a quick chat with Adele, who said Jagger had stepped out for a few minutes (probably after seeing Airbrush Lady), and Adele was thrilled to pieces with my praise of her daughter Lilla, and then I slunk down the hallway to Gold's office in order not to run into Fabio.

When I opened the door, I groaned.

“Hey, doll, when the hell is that case going to crack?” Fabio asked me while standing near Goldie's glass-top desk. Gold rolled his eyes at me, and I nodded.

“Oh, Fabio. I'm so glad you are here. It is coming along so well that I will be done in…a very short time.”

Goldie stood and took Fabio by the arm. “Isn't she just a peach?”

“Yeah, fucking peach,” he mumbled while Goldie ushered him toward the door.

“You feel free to start assigning her next case since she's so close to cracking this one, boss,” Goldie said in such a flamboyant manor, he had me choking back a laugh.

Mesmerized by Goldie, Fabio seemed speechless until he muttered, “Um. Yeah. Next case. Working on it.”

I wanted to shout, “What? I will have a next case? What is it?” but held my words as I wanted Fabio to leave more than to find out the case info.

Before I confessed to him that I really had nothing.

Yikes.

Once Fabio was safely out the door, Goldie shut it with more force than needed, leaned against it, looking very much like a tortured Marilyn Monroe in his blonde curly wig, gold brocade dress with a flared bottom, and his arm pressed against his forehead. “Why did his old man have to die and leave him here?”

I laughed. “I heard the father didn't make much money though.”

Goldie left his position, got a peach vodka on the rocks from his wet bar, handed me a diet Coke, and draped himself over the leopard couch. “True. But he was a sweetie. A real human being. Fabio sucks.”

I held up my drink to a toast and said, “Hey, listen to this,” and told Goldie everything about Pansy, Sky, and how Lilla and I were so successful.

Goldie screeched a few times (appropriately) and toasted again. As he held his glass up, a knock sounded on the door.

“Enter!” Goldie yelled and looked at me, “Hope to hell it's not Bosshole again.”

“Would he knock?” I asked, causing Goldie to spit out a sip of his drink.

I started laughing until Goldie's face grew serious while he looked behind me. I swung around.

“Goldie. Sherlock,” Jagger said, looking oh so delicious I took a sip of my diet Coke and thought it was jam-packed with sugar.

Thankful that I didn't spill my drink and kept my cool, I said, “Hey,” while Jagger helped himself to a beer after Goldie offered, and then Jagger sat opposite me on an elephant leg-looking stool.

“Where'd you go?” he asked.

The term, none of your business, sat on the tip of my tongue, but then I remembered we were working a case. Together.

Go figure.

“Well,” I hesitated, knowing I'd have to face the fallout of Jagger's possible wrath when I said Lilla and I had sneaked into the hospital to see Pansy. Oh well, I decided to go for it, and what could Jagger do to me anyway?

Once I finished my story, I found out. At first he took a very long, slow sip of his beer. Occasionally he looked from Goldie to me and back.

Poor Goldie looked as if he'd seen a spider—and everyone knew that gay guys couldn't really handle spiders very well as evidenced by Miles and Goldie found up on a chair in the kitchen when one ventured in while Spanky had stepped out.

I could take Jagger, but it wasn't fair to upset Goldie, so I said, “Come on. Get it over with. Give me your two cents lecture so we can move on.”

Goldie gasped. I think he wanted to jump up to protect me, but this was Goldie. Poor guy didn't do too well with brute force or anything that might break a nail.

Still in no hurry, Jagger sipped even slower.

“Stop that before Goldie has a stroke!”

Jagger smiled at Goldie. “Why would he?”

I set my glass down on the desktop with a thump and a splash. “Because you are going to chastise me, and he's my friend, and you nearly have him suffering apoplexy!”

Goldie said, “Appo—”

“Spitting mad, Gold. Give it up, Jagger. You've held us in suspense long enough. What about my investigating without you?”

He set his beer down next to mine without a sound or a splash. “Excellent.”

My jaw did its “amazed at Jagger” routine, landing wide open and nearly at chest level Excellent? Was there really such a word in Jagger's vocabulary. I was ready to say, “Says you” followed by, “and
I
think I did a great job,” but no longer needed those words and didn't have any backup.

Goldie and I looked at each other and smiled.

Since Jagger and I needed to get back to TLC and explain our “absences,” we drove out of the office parking lot in record time and soon pulled into the TLC lot. When I parked, I noticed Buzz Lightyear walking toward the building.

His shift wasn't over yet, so I wondered what he was doing there. I had to follow him inside and bite my tongue when I nearly said, “Didn't Pansy look pale?”

Instead I shifted my thoughts and said, “Hey, Jeremy, have you heard any news about how Pansy is doing?”

His hand tightened on the door handle. Poor kid. He'd had a rough day, and I was making him relive it again.

“I hear she's still in a coma,” he said and walked briskly away.

You heard? You saw, Buzz. You saw her today, and why would you keep that a secret?

I shook my head and likened him to one of my younger brothers. If he told me about being there with three women, and him being the one who looked whiter than the pale patient, he'd look bad in front of a girl. I smiled to myself. Yeah, poor kid.

When I went into the lounge to see who was there, I was paged over the intercom. “Pauline Sokol, to the helipad.”

Oh great. A dizzying helicopter ride to make my day.

So very proud of myself for not getting nauseous and for stabilizing an unstable patient mid-air, I sat next to Sky on the ride back to Hope Valley, mentally patting myself on the back.

Only thing was, it was damn difficult not to ask about him and Pansy!

I managed to make small talk and learned Sky was an only child who had grown up in an orphanage. How sad, yet he seemed to think it was an okay upbringing.

“Well, look where it got you,” I said. “Great job and a great guy.”

He chuckled in the earphones of my helmet and asked me to tell him more about myself. Yikes. I had to give him the edited version, leaving out that I was an investigator.

Trust no one, I could hear Jagger whisper in my ear. Okay, due to the noise of this flying tin can, it was more a shout than a whisper.

But it was in Jagger's voice and helped to keep me calm.

“How'd you come to work for TLC?” Sky asked.

Whoops. Hadn't ever planned out a lie for that one. Never really expected someone would ask. I paused for a few seconds and looked out the window.

The TLC helipad was in view. If I bought myself time, I wouldn't have to lie since I sucked at that. So I looked around as if I hadn't heard Sky's question.

“Hey, Pauline. I asked how you came to work at TLC. Someone recommend it to you?”

Hm. That would have been a good answer unless he asked me who had. Now I leaned over to pretend to be interested in the terrain below.

Sky leaned over too. Only toward me. He tapped my helmet. “You hear me?”

“What?”

“Your system out?

“If you are talking to me, I think my system is out.” Damn. I should have used another term, but he didn't seem suspicious as he gently set the helicopter down.

“Nice landing,” I said as I took off my helmet and got out before Mario, who'd been taking a nap like Nicky, stepped out. I handed him the helmet while Sky said, “Have the system on that thing checked out, Mar.”

Whoops. Oh well, if need be, I could say I had wax in my ears.

When I poured milk into my cup of hot tea while several of the other staff busied themselves in the lounge, I started to plan out my evening. Evening? Geez. It seemed ages since I'd come into duty here today. This was a demanding job as most nursing positions were. Proud of my accomplishments on my two helicopter runs, I took a sip and decided I needed the down time.

“Four, five, six, possible eighty-four at 333 Oak Street, third floor,” came over the intercom.

Buzz flew from his seat. “Let's go, Pauline!”

“Pauline?” I said while the tea sloshed around in my mug as I set it down on the table.

“Yeah, didn't you hear your name called? ER Dano is already in the ambulance. Let's go!” Buzz adjusted his crisp white shirt as if that would make him look more professional to a patient suffering an eighty-four, whatever that was.

In my relaxed mood I hadn't, in fact, heard my name being called, but I trusted Buzz (and decided he was more a Buzz than a Jeremy since disturbing my down time), so I rushed out behind him.

ER Dano was at the driving wheel. “Shotgun for you this time, Sparkie. Sokol, you got the back.”

The experienced paramedics, well ER Dano anyway, called the overeager EMTs, who always wanted to drive, “Sparkie.”

Neither Buzz nor I argued since a person's life might be on the line—even though I hated riding in the back. Jagger wasn't on this call, so I figured they'd split us up since he must have been used on another run where a paramedic was needed.

I sat in the back while ER zoomed us out of the driveway with the lights and sirens going non-stop.

Adrenaline was a powerful hormone
, I thought as it surged throughout me, waking me up so I'd be ready for anything.

But when we reached 333 Oak Street, I really hadn't been ready.

Dano cursed a few times while we hurried out of the ambulance, and he ordered Buzz Lightyear to get the bag—which pleased Buzz to no end. I could tell he felt very important carrying all the equipment. Almost as important as ER felt amused that he didn't have to carry it.

We got to the rickety front porch of the green, white, and dirty brown three-story house. The door was left open, so ER Dano led the way mumbling, “The damn fat lady always lives on the third floor.”

I figured he wasn't talking to anyone and that the poor ambulance crews really did have it physically demanding—and hopefully this patient would not be too heavy to carry down these stairs. They wound around corners with triangle steps at each curve, and because of the narrowness of the stairway I wondered how anyone got any furniture up there.

“Hurry up!” a young voice shouted.

I couldn't tell if it was female or male, but it was frantic.

Then we reached the top floor, and I saw a girl. Really just a girl. Maybe seventeen or close to it. Dressed all in black except for the bright yellow hair, she stood there waving her hands and yelling, “He needs help! He needs help! Don't let Slick die!”

Buzz stiffened in what I think he thought was a very professional manor. “We are here, ma'am. No need to panic. We'll do our best—”

ER Dano pushed Buzz to the side. “Get the hell out of the way. Where is he?” he asked the girl.

She pointed to the open door at the end of the hallway so we all hurried in.

I had to stop short when we got into the bedroom where Chloe, who'd told us her name for no apparent reason, had pointed.