A Dose of Murder (20 page)

Ack. Christmas in this house. Now I loved the tradition of my family all being together, but this year Jagger would be here. And all my brothers, sisters and their spouses would think Jagger and I were an item.

The thought made me drop my fork.

“Pauline, please don't chip the china,” my mother said.

It wasn't really china, but dishes she'd gotten at the Stop and Buy. One place setting every week if you spent over fifty bucks. I did like them, though, since they were a Currier and Ives picture of a snow-laden farm in New England, even if it took five months to get an entire set.

The meal progressed with small talk until Mom got up to clean. Jagger jumped up too, which made me obliged to follow. My mother loved waiting on us, but I couldn't not help her. It'd make me look lazy.

In the kitchen she said, “Pauline, get out the good icecream dishes.”

Not wanting to argue that she had a pie, an apple one, in her hand, I did as told. Jagger leaned against the wall and watched. I wondered if he even had a mother—ever. Then I wondered if, ack, the damn sexy Jagger had Stella Sokol flustered. You don't want to think of a guy affecting your mother that way. Trust me.

“Let me get that, Missus Sokol,” he said as Mom tried to balance the pie and coffeepot.

To my amazement, she gave the pot up freely. My mother never let anyone help serve. If she did, she couldn't brag about the work she did. Not really brag, because it was true, but she had such pride in her housekeeping abilities and cooking.

When we had the kitchen cleaned—and the dining room too, since Mother insisted we sit in there for dessert—Jagger and I headed to the door.

He looked at Uncle Walt, who was already in the recliner with his eyes shutting and said, “Next time I'll take you for a ride around the block, sir.”

Uncle Walt's eyes flew open. “I'll hold you to it, son. I'll hold you to it.”

Jagger thanked my parents and soon we were in his Suburban, driving south. The condo was east. I'd eaten far too much, which was nothing new when I went to my parents' house, so I leaned back and decided I didn't have the energy to talk.

I heard a pig! My eyes flew open.

When I realized I was in Jagger's SUV and we were stopped, I knew it couldn't have been a barnyard animal that had made that godawful sound. I must have dreamt it, I thought, until I saw Jagger staring at me.

“A good ENT can yank out your adenoids.”

That pig sound had been me.

Despite the air outside being a chilly thirty degrees, my face burned. Jagger didn't, however, continue to stare. Thank goodness for small miracles. I made a mental note to have my adenoids checked when my health insurance policy kicked in and looked out the window. “What are we doing here?”

“You have a job to do, don't you?”

Tina Macaluso. I'd been so exhausted from my nursing job today, I'd plumb forgot. Funny how one's mind worked once you hit thirty-four. “I forgot my beeper/camera.”

Silence.

I turned to look at Jagger, who scowled back at me with a forehead more wrinkled than the skin on Uncle Walt's neck.

“Hey, things happen,” I said in my own defense.

“If you want to make it in this business, Sherlock, you need to be prepared at all times. What if Tina had come into the office today and lifted a box or something else heavy?”

“I . . . you're right.” I sighed. “Guess you wasted a trip out here.”

He leaned over the seat.

Very close to my left shoulder.

So close, oh . . . my . . . God, that I could inhale his scent of man. Not being able to identify any commercial cologne, I named it “scent of man” 'cause he sure as hell smelled sexy and manly. Not in an Irish Spring soap-type way either.

Oh, no. More a way that made me swallow so hard I know he had to hear.

He pulled out an eyeglass case.

I cursed the pheromones.

“What? We're going to do some reading?” I chuckled.

Jagger gave me a look that said he thought I was certifiable. He opened the case. “Put these on.” He held them out toward me.

I waited, not sure what to say. “Sunglasses. What? Is there a full moon or something?”

“Something, Sherlock.” He pointed to one corner of the frames. I couldn't help notice him shake his head. He said, “There's a video camera in here.”

“No shit!”

He shook his head yet again.

“Didn't your mother ever tell you if you keep doing that your head will roll off your shoulders?”

“I thought you were a professional.”

I gingerly took the glasses he held toward me. “I'm working on it.”

“Then you can learn from the best.”

“Goldie?”

He curled his lip at me.

“You mean . . . Nick .” I held the glasses, still marveling that a camera could fit in the frames. “Oh. Sorry.”

A low growl came from Jagger's side of the car.

“What's with you two anyway?” I put the glasses to my face and looked in the mirror. “Oh my gosh, it doesn't look dark through these.” I lifted them up, looked from under, then put them back on. I repeated it about seven times.

“The past is past. And, Sherlock, stop playing with those. They run about five grand.”

My hands flew to my face to yank them off, but before I could touch them, Jagger grabbed me. “That's the best way to break them.”

“Sorry.” I relaxed my hands, but he still held on. I guess I'll always wonder, but it sure as heck seemed that he paused—while still holding me.

Within seconds, though, he'd let go and moved back to his side of the car. I sighed as quietly as humanly possible, but he seemed to notice and sat mannequin still.

“We'll head through the woods to the back of the house.”

I waited until Jagger got out, but he didn't come around to my side of the car. What was I thinking? I hurried out and made sure the door was locked since I was leaving my purse in the car. I figured he'd lock it with his key system since he more than likely had equipment in there that was worth a heck of a lot more than my purse with everything in it. Including my paltry credit-card limits.

We walked by the empty lots into the snow-covered woods. “How do you know she's at this house? And why does she have two houses? Or does she? Is this hers?” I sighed. “My feet are cold. I should have worn boots. You should have told me to wear boots. My little pinky toes are especially—”

He stopped, turned around and looked at me. “Jesus, Sherlock.”

That was that. Nothing more. I guess Jagger had put me in my place for asking stupid questions tonight. Well, it seemed any question I asked him was stupid, in his opinion. So, being the inquisitive person that I am, I asked, “Whom exactly do you work for? Who—”

This time he stopped, turned, looked and turned back.

Then he merely walked away.

Left me standing in mid-word, and calf-deep in snow.

Right then, mid-word and calf-deep in snow, I figured I'd never really know who Jagger was and whom he worked for.

At least I was positive that he'd never tell me.

But he'd held up his end of the bargain by taking me here tonight, and lending me his . . . ack . . . expensive glasses to do my job. So, I wouldn't give FBI versus PI versus insurance-fraud investigator versus who-the-hell-knew a second thought.

I decided if I kept standing there watching him walk away, either my feet would freeze in the ground or I'd lose him in the woods. I could only see a faint light in the direction of Tina's house. With the glasses on, I was having some difficulty seeing. Not that they made it dark, but more that I plain wasn't used to wearing glasses.

And I could swear Jagger's scent clung to the glasses.

Foolish thought, Pauline
, I told myself. Scents probably don't stick to plastic no matter how expensive it is. I hurried from tree to tree, once nearly falling when my right foot stepped into a hole covered by the snow. I yanked it out, hoping it wasn't some hibernating animal's hole and that I'd disturbed their sleep. And that they had teeth.

Jagger leaned against a tree near the back of Tina's house. Now I could see lights burning in most of the rooms. I was certain Tina didn't have any children, since she more than likely would have made a point to tell—no, brag—to me about the little darlings. So, why would two people need so many lights on at the same time? They couldn't be using all those rooms at once.

Maybe others didn't think of wasting electricity like my mother had drummed into my siblings' heads and mine. Of course, I voluntarily pinched my electrical pennies nowadays since leaving my nursing job.

“Do you see anyone?” I asked.

Jagger turned to me. “Keep it down. Sound travels better on these cold clear nights. And no.”

He was right. I had to start thinking before acting in this job. Good thing I hadn't come out alone.

Suddenly I noticed Jagger tense. I should have been watching Tina's house, but at the moment I'd been watching him instead. I followed his sight line to the back door which started to open. Moving closer to Jagger, I caught my half-frozen left foot on a low-lying branch and landed
smack
against his side.

The man had quick reflexes.

He grabbed me before I did a belly flop in the snow and, God forbid, smashed his glasses. I pulled away and wiped the snow from my knee, which had helped save me too. “Thanks.”

Again that head shaking.

I made a mental note, the list was getting quite long, to buy a bottle of Tylenol for Jagger. He had to be developing a whopper of a headache from all that shaking.

“When you need to start filming, press this.” He gently took my finger, pulled off my glove and touched it to the part of the eyeglass frames that held the
RECORD
button. It was so tiny I wondered if I could find it on my own. Or maybe I just wanted an excuse for Jagger to touch my gloveless hand.

Stop that, Pauline
, I ordered.

“Look,” he whispered.

I stopped staring at him, trying with all my faculties to forget how much sexier his voice sounded in a whisper and thinking I wouldn't mind him whispering in my ear and not about Tina, and turned my attention to her backyard.

She'd come outside, with Doc Macaluso following behind. Darn. If anything needed to be lifted, he'd more than likely do it. But as they walked to the woodpile, Tina opened a canvas bag-like item that I knew was designed to hold logs. The good doc looked around a few times, then nodded toward her.

“You getting this?” Jagger asked in that low, sexy voice.

Oops. I'd forgotten to turn on the camera. I yanked my glove off with my teeth and pressed the button before Jagger turned around. “Of course I am getting it.” Now, anyway.

The doc stood guard. He kept looking around like some kind of sentry. Tina was turned toward him as if waiting for a signal.

Good. Made them look guilty as hell.

Very nonchalantly she proceeded to fill the bag with wood. It had to be heavy by the number of logs in it, but Tina held it as if it were filled with feathers. As an added bonus, she bent over and picked up three logs one right after the other. “Yes,” I murmured, thinking Donnie was a wimp.

Jagger didn't move, but even with the moon out, I thought maybe I saw him shake his head again.

Tina and the doc went back inside. After a few minutes, gray smoke begun to billow out of their chimney.

“Looks like they got enough to last the night.” Jagger turned and started to walk back toward his SUV. After a few steps, he stopped and looked at me. “Glasses.” He held out his hand.

I took them off and wondered how I was going to get the video I'd just taken with his camera.

'Cause I'd forgotten to shut it off and just filmed several seconds of Jagger's butt.

“Sounds as if you had a good time with Miles,” I said to Goldie as I walked into his office with my empty mug. I decided I needed to see Goldie each morning before heading off to my nursing job and have his chicory coffee. I'd brought my own mug from home to use at the office and felt as if I really belonged when I got to leave it here. It was the one with the joke about how many Polacks does it take to screw in a light bulb that Miles had given me for Christmas several years ago. Goldie had cleaned a part of his office out for me to use. He even gave me tips on how to apply the samples of makeup he gave me too.

Most mornings I looked pretty damn good by the time I left.

He sat at the desk, his feet, wearing black leather pumps, resting on the top. Today his slacks were more like trousers, black with a shiny silver belt buckle of a peacock. The blouse was white silk with a ruffled front similar to the other one I'd seen him in but softer-looking. His earrings were black-and-white cloth in the shape of half moons. His hair, tinted auburn today, was pulled back in a chignon held by a black-and-white bow at the nape of his neck.