A Dose of Murder (34 page)

“I'm off now,” was all Jagger said before heading out.

I followed him to the living room. “That was nice, the breakfast. Thanks.”

He nodded and opened the door.

A little stuffed black-and-white dog tumbled into the entryway near Jagger's feet. He bent, picked it up.

A note was tied to the red ribbon of the dog's neck.

“What the heck is that? Looks like my Spanky. I wonder if some kids left it—”

Jagger looked at me.

“This didn't come from any kids.”

I could only stare.

Jagger kept his head down, looking at the note. The stuffed Spanky tucked under his arm now looked rather grotesque. Its button eyes had been pulled off. I swallowed hard and sucked in a deep breath. Spanky curled up near the fireplace without a care. I let my breath out very slowly. “What . . . is it? What does it say?”

Jagger folded it up. “You don't need to know.”

“I . . .
What?
What do you mean, I don't need to know?”

He stuffed it into his pocket. “Just that. If I let you read it, you'll go off on a tangent, misinterpreting—”

“And not continue to work for you.”

“Let me ask you something, Pauline.”

Serious. He was dead serious. “What?”

“Do you trust me?”

I looked at him a few seconds. Not being able to read his dark eyes, yet feeling that calm still deep inside when he looked at me, I said, “You're not being fair.”

“I didn't ask you if I was fair. I'm the first to admit I'm not. Hell, sometimes I'm downright selfish. I can be a taker if the need suits me. Jagger does what Jagger wants.”

He shoved the stupid dog under his other arm. I guessed it was so I couldn't keep staring at it the way I'd been doing. “Then why should I trust you?”

“That's up to you to decide.” With that, he turned and gingerly walked across the grass instead of the icy sidewalk.

Patches had melted but there were still slick spots. The roads, however, seemed much better since the traffic was traveling at a decent speed.

Over his shoulder he said, “Get inside and lock the door. Don't answer it without finding out who it is. Don't open it unless it's someone you know. I'll take this to Lieutenant Shatley.” At the door of his car, he stopped and looked at me. “You never answered my question.”

I touched the handle of my door and held my chin up high. Not an easy feat to do when your heart is doing a jig in your chest.

He waited, watching.

“Yes.”

Jagger had nodded and gotten into his SUV before I could shut and lock my door. I really did trust him, but being here alone had me a bit concerned. Who knew where I lived? How did they find that out? And why didn't Jagger stay with me?

I hurried inside, slammed the door, locked it, rechecked the locks and collapsed against the door as if my one hundred fifteen pounds could keep someone from opening it. I stayed there, thinking.

Maybe the note wasn't for me. Maybe it was a mistake. Or maybe it was meant for Jagger. Someone knew he was here. Someone was following him.

Maybe that's why he left. Silly, he had work to do and even if someone was following him, he wouldn't hide out. I rechecked the locks again, hurried over to Spanky and picked him up despite his low growl. “Too bad, buddy, I need a hug right now.”

The phone rang.

Spanky jumped, or maybe it only appeared as if he jumped because I did.

For a few seconds I could only stare. Was my life going to be run by fear? Did I really
have
anything to fear? No one should suspect me. I'd been very discreet at work and had never gotten caught.

Ring. Ring
.

I sucked in a breath and walked to the phone. When I lifted the receiver, I heard, “Five-five-five three, six-eight-nine-one. Write it down this time.”

Then a dial tone.

I opened the drawer and took out the notepad Miles kept there for phone messages. At least Miles was prepared, I thought, as I jotted down Jagger's cell phone number.

I tucked it into my pants pocket but not before memorizing it. I ran the numbers through my head one more time.

The doorbell rang.

I shouted something foul, and Spanky jumped up and ran toward the door, barking.

Keep calm, Pauline. You are a professional. This became my mantra until I forced my feet to move toward the door. Miles wouldn't ring the bell unless he forgot his key.

Maybe Jagger had come back?

Spanky kept barking. I could only hope that whoever it was didn't know the dog weighed only five pounds and could be frightened away by any loud sound.

The bell rang again.

I grabbed a pillow from the couch and walked closer. What the hell? Did I think I could smother an attacker? I threw it down and stood there.

“Suga? Open up! You all right?”

Bang. Bang
.

Tears sprang to my eyes. Goldie! I hurried to open the door. “Goldie!” Spanky jumped and ran toward the kitchen, and Goldie took my hands into his.

“You're not all right. You look like shit. Scared shit. Or is it shitless?” He had a large gym bag with him. A large black bag with purple and green and yellow Mardi Gras masks on it. He would make a perfect ambassador for tourism in the city of New Orleans. “You gonna let me in all the way, suga?”

“I'm so sorry. I—” I took a step back. “Oh my God! You're not dressed!”

He closed the door and laughed. “I'm not exactly naked, suga. I'm taking a day off, and on my days off I like to go casual.”

Casual was an understatement.

I'd been so scared before when I opened the door that I hadn't noticed Goldie wasn't in drag. His hair was cropped short, blond with tiny spikes in the front. Dark sunglasses with tortoiseshell frames covered his eyes. His complexion was smooth and tanned. I reached out and touched his face. “No makeup.”

He laughed and set the bag on a chair. “Casual Tuesday. No muss. No fuss.”

I couldn't help stare at his chest. It was so much flatter.

He looked at me. “Water bra.”

I smiled and nodded as if I knew what a water bra was. I did, however, assume the cups were filled with water. Wow. Soft and full and round without any surgery or hormones. “You look good. Real good. Not that you don't look good in . . . you always look gorgeous.”

He slung off his brown leather jacket with a dyed brown lambswool collar on it, and put it on a chair and shoved his sunglasses to the top of his head. “Sun's a bitch today with all that melting ice. Too much glare hurts my eyes.” If anyone had told me Goldie would be wearing jeans—although tighter than the casing on a kielbasa—I'd have said they were crazy.

Masculine wasn't a term I'd use to describe Goldie when not wearing drag. He still had some feminine features, like his little pert nose, soft skin, and big round eyes. But he was cute.

I couldn't help but go over and hug him again. I've never been known as a touchy-feely type, but lately—that is, since taking on this new job—I had urges to be held by someone or to hug someone or something. Spanky took the brunt of my hugging, even if he didn't welcome it. “Sorry. I needed that.”

Goldie laughed. “Hey, we all need somebody sometime. Isn't that a song?”

“I don't know,” I said, feeling downright giddy to have his company. “What's in the bag?”

“Gym clothes.” He turned toward the kitchen. “Don't you offer your guests a drink?”

“It's only ten thirty and gym clothes?”

He laughed again. “Hey, you think I was born with this bod? No siree, suga. I'm on my way home from Gold's Gym.”

I joined in his laughter. “What'll it be?”

Spanky stood near the door, wiggling. The poor thing. I wished he'd learn to bark when he needed to go out. One day I knew I'd find him standing there with his little paws crossed, trying not to wet the floor.

“Coffee.” Goldie said, following me into the kitchen. “Oh, boy!”

“What? Oh boy what?”

I swung around. Had somebody climbed the brick wall and taken Spanky? “What!”

He nodded at the sink. “Wait till my Miles sees that.”

“I'm going to finish cleaning up. As a matter of fact, I was going to go for a run, then clean up. Have you heard from him today? Is he working the day shift?”

Goldie nodded. He took a piece of bacon from a plate and nibbled on it.

“Yuck. Why don't you nuke that?”

“It's fine. A run sounds fine too. I'll join you.”

Taken aback, yet not wanting to be insulting since Goldie didn't strike me as the running type, I nodded. “Okay. If you really want to.”

After he helped me clean up, since the dirty dishes bothered him as much as they'd bother Miles, I went upstairs to change, and Goldie changed into his running clothes in the downstairs bathroom.

We did our stretches in the living room and went out, but not before I checked about a hundred times to see if I had my key, and about two hundred times to see if the door was locked.

Goldie followed me out the front entrance, through the parking lot and over to the jogging run that had been made for the condo association members. I was impressed that he kept up without labored breathing.

When we turned the corner to the only area that was surrounded on both sides by woods, I slowed. Goldie came up from behind.

“What's . . . wrong ?” He kept jogging in place as I did.

Don't be foolish
, I told myself.
No one is following us
. “I thought I heard something in the woods. Must have been a squirrel.”

“Varmints are everywhere.” He took a deep breath. “Race you back!”

“You're on!”

He was off before I could answer. I gave a quick look around behind me and ran my little size sevens off.

I'd never run so fast in my life. I tried to tell myself it was my competitive nature driving me forward onto Goldie's heels, but if I were true to myself, I'd admit it was dumb fear that someone was following me.

Maybe it was Jagger.

Yes, I liked that thought.

We made it to the parking lot in record time. Goldie first, with me on his heels. Damn it. He raised his hands and danced around like Rocky.

“Don't get . . . carried away. You had a head start.”

“By . . . about . . . a second.”

Amid laughter, Goldie kept blowing out loud breaths and bending at the waist. “I'm . . . beat.”

We cooled down by walking slower around the parking lot, which had now thawed completely. Puddles covered the cement, and we jumped over them to get back to my door.

Once I'd opened it and we walked in, Goldie collapsed on the sofa. I chose the stuffed chair cause it was closer to the door. “Thanks.”

“For what, suga? Beating the pants off of you?”

“No.” I smiled at him. “For . . . being you.”

He nodded.

“Only a friend like you would show up on a day off and jog with me. You're a doll to think of coming over here since you knew Miles wasn't here. You have no idea how much I needed that.” Then I told him about Linda.

Goldie bit at his lip and ran a long red nail over it. I guessed it was too much work to take off the nails when he didn't dress in drag. He looked up at me. I'd never seen him so serious.

It scared me.

Of course, I was way too touchy lately. To be a professional in my field, I had to toughen up. “What is it?”

“I . . . I like you too much to lie.”

My heart started to speed up. “Lie?”

“I didn't just come to visit you.”

Suddenly I felt disappointed and, truthfully, a bit hurt. “Oh?”

“Look, suga.” He got up and came over. Without an argument, I let him take my hand and lift me from the chair. Now I wasn't liking this one bit.

“What is going on? Why did you really come here?”

He gave me a hug, which had my stomach in knots.

“Jagger told me to.”

After I'd gotten over the shock that Jagger felt it necessary to send a “bodyguard” over, Goldie and I shared a beer even though it wasn't noon yet. We didn't talk about how much he knew about the case I was helping Jagger with and it really didn't matter.

I reminded myself that Jagger was no slouch for thinking about my safety—until my internal devil's advocate said that maybe the reason Jagger didn't want anything to happen to me was that he was still
using
me for the case.

Just how dedicated
was
Jagger?

I tried to contemplate Jagger sending Goldie over to act as my protector. Partly I was pissed that Jagger thought I couldn't take care of myself. Then I realized I couldn't—in the face of murder. Partly I was pissed that I couldn't. Maybe I really did need a gun.

That thought scared the bejeevers out of me.

Goldie kept looking at his watch. I figured he had someplace he'd rather be than babysitting me, so I said, “You don't have to stay, you know.”

He looked from his watch to me. “I'm lots of things, suga, but stupid isn't one of them.”

“Hmm? I don't get you.”

“Jagger
told
me to—”

“Ah. Now I see. But he doesn't have to know—”

Goldie chuckled. “He always knows.”

Yikes. Had no comeback for that.

A chill flew up my spine. Just as I felt this unbelievable sense of calm and safety when around Jagger, I also felt he really did know far more than he should. I tapped my nail to my tooth. “How do you think he does that?”

Goldie shook his head. “If I knew, suga, I'd be chasing the big bucks that he does.”

I leaned back on the couch. Spanky jumped at my leg so I lifted him up, and he promptly snuggled under one of the black-and-white-striped pillows that Miles had gotten when he did the living room monochromatically. He didn't count the white as a color. “You think he does it all for the money?”