Undercover Passion (10 page)

Turning on his heel, he almost ran into Daniel.

“'Scuse me, I've got to go learn how to play the guitar,” he told him pleasantly, moving along like a much younger man.

Ella watched him go, her hands on her hips. She looked as though she was about to emit steam from her ears.

“Did you hear that old coot?” she demanded of Daniel. “All these years I thought he was a decent sort. He's a Portland archivist, you know. He once interviewed me about my family. Pioneers, city founders and all that. I kind of liked him. Didn't know he was crazy.” She
shook her head and looked earnestly into Daniel's eyes. “There's something weird going on in this place. Watch yourself. Don't let them get you, too.”

She started to go back into her shop but Daniel stopped her.

“What do you mean?” he asked her. “Who do you think is out to ‘get' us?”

She shook her head. “You got me. It's driving me nuts. I may have to go to one of that cutie-pie Dr. Richie's seminars to learn how to relieve my stress.” She made a sound that indicated what she thought of that nonsense. “I'm just warning you, because you seem to be one of the few who are still sane.” She gave him a pointed look. “You remember that movie, with the pods changing people into aliens?”

“Oh, yes. One of my favorites.”

She nodded. “Don't go into any basements, okay?”

“Okay.” He grinned at her, but she didn't smile back. Snorting, she went inside her flower shop.

Daniel's cell phone rang at the same time. He flipped it open and barked, “O'Callahan here.”

“Hey, Danny boy. I got the results of those tests you wanted run.”

Daniel straightened. “Great. That was fast work. Let's have it.”

“Okay. The lab tech gave me all kinds of gob-bledy-gook but the bottom line is, you ain't got squat.”

“Nothing?”

“Nope. Zero, zip, nada.”

Daniel shook his head in disgust. “Even on the nutrition bar?”

“It's a nutrition bar. What can I say?”

“With nothing strange in it?” He was begging for a tiny piece of something, anything, just to help him know which way to turn.

But Jimmy couldn't bail him out.

“Nope,” he said. “What were you expecting anyway?”

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

Daniel hesitated, then grinned. “An aphrodisiac. How do you like that?”

Jimmy brightened. “I don't know. I haven't tried it yet.”

“And you never will. I'm trying to protect people from it, not promote it.”

“What a killjoy,” Jimmy muttered kiddingly.
Then he sobered. “Hey, I'll send over the complete analysis. There are sheets and sheets of it.”

“Okay.” Daniel sighed heavily. He'd hoped to wrap this up quickly but obviously it was going to take more research and investigation than he'd thought. “Thanks, Jimmy. I owe you one.”

“You don't owe me nothin'.” Jimmy's voice changed a bit. He cleared his throat. It was a pretty good bet he was going to launch into a topic that was not completely comfortable for him. “So what's the latest you hear from the inquiry?”

“Nothing yet.”

“Ah, come on, they're gonna clear you. You know that.”

“No, I don't know that.”

There was certainly a possibility that the inquiry might give someone the excuse they needed to have him kicked off the force. Some powerful political movers and shakers had it in for him now. He knew very well that a fair hearing would exonerate him completely. But whether or not the hearing would be fair—that was the question.

Still, he didn't like to waste mental energy worrying about something he couldn't do anything
about. If it happened, it happened. There was no use losing sleep over it.

Back to the dopey love epidemic. Keeping his mind busy on that kept it off the inquiry.

He rang off from Jimmy and dropped in to see his grandmother. She was feeling better and looking very perky. They exchanged a few jokes and anecdotes until a slender dark-haired woman appeared in the doorway.

“Ah, here's the physical therapist,” his grandmother said with a grimace. “Time for my daily torture.”

Daniel nodded at the pleasant-looking young woman. “Gram, do you want me to stay and—”

“Oh, get on with you. You must have something better to do. And I don't really want you to see me in my hour of distress.”

He gave her a kiss and left, promising to be back in the afternoon. As he turned out of the room, he almost collided with Abby coming toward him from the elevators. She smiled.

“Going my way?” she asked.

D
aniel took a quick breath to steady himself. The last thing he wanted was to let Abby know how strongly she affected the way his body worked.

“That depends. Which way are you going?”

She motioned with her head. “I'm heading to the cafeteria to get something to eat.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Something to eat. Hmm.”

“I know, I know. You think it's a little early for lunch.”

“And a little late for breakfast.”

“So let's call it brunch.”

He snapped his fingers. “The woman has the gift.”

She looked pleased, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm as though he'd already agreed to go with her. “Yes. I'm just glad you're smart enough to recognize it.” She sighed. “Actually, I'm ravenous. I spent the morning organizing a session of exercise therapy.”

“Ah. The exercises.” He raised an eyebrow. “I hope you weren't doing the old Giaza with someone other than me. That's our special exercise, you know.”

She laughed and seemed to pull him closer.

He supposed he'd been recruited for brunch, but he couldn't conjure up any reason not to join her. And he wasn't sure he would have used any of those reasons if he could have thought of them. Her hand felt too good on his arm. In fact, just being with her was making him happy.

Happy
wasn't one of his usual emotions. He was a cop, for God's sake.
Happy
had nothing to do with the life he'd led and expected to lead in the future. Getting the job done. Satisfaction in his
role in protecting society against the bad guys. Making the world safe for little kids to grow up without pain and horror. That was what he was all about. Not being
happy
.

Forget happy and get back to work.

“You were going to tell me about the atomizer.”

He'd just about decided the atomizer was his last hope in finding the culprit, but somehow the concept wasn't striking much excitement in his mind. If it were the guilty element, it would seem more people would have heard of it. But he was ready to take any information she was ready to give, just to add it in to the brew.

“Ah, the atomizer. Yes.” She smiled at him sideways. “You know that Dr. Richie had a long history of therapeutic counseling and wellness instruction before he came here. Well, the atomizer was something he was working with a few years ago when he came through Portland doing his workshops. From what he says, it was more related to aromatherapy than weight control.”

She frowned, thinking of something. “It may have been the first permutation of the NoWait oil, though, come to think of it. Anyway, he aban
doned it a long time ago. Anyone who has an atomizer must have been at those original workshops.”

Daniel nodded. He'd had a feeling it was something like that. Still, it didn't help break through this dead end he seemed to be facing.

“Maybe it's time I got an interview with the great man himself,” he murmured, almost as much to himself as to her.

“He's so busy,” she said evasively. “But I'll see what I can do.”

“I'd appreciate it.”

“He doesn't like giving interviews. He says that's what he hired me for.”

“Doesn't like interviews?” He looked at her, incredulous. “What are you talking about? He's on television all the time.”

“Yes, but that's different. That has nothing to do with him personally.”

That fit, all right. Sounded like a totally guilty man to him.

They reached the cafeteria and he held the door for her.

“Mmm, you smell good,” she murmured, skimming close to him as she passed.

“Me?” He was taken aback. “I'm not wearing any cologne or anything.”

“I know.” She smiled up at him, so close he was tempted to wrap his arms around her. “Clean male. The best scent there is.”

She turned to enter the cafeteria line, but he had to wait a moment, pretending to read the notices on the wall, before he could follow her. He'd never before known a woman who could turn him on in seconds. Maybe he ought to see if Dr. Richie had an antidote.

Abby had already started a tray and a cute little dark-haired nurse had come between them, so he picked up a tray for himself. The nurse turned and looked into his face and gave a sigh that could have been heard in the parking lot.

“Oh! Green eyes. I would die for a man with green eyes.”

Great. Another victim of Dr. Richie's love potion.

“Not here, please,” Daniel told her curtly. “You'll clutter up the food line.”

She laughed and leaned toward him like a tree in a strong wind. He could see Abby turning and noticing what was going on, so he flashed the little nurse a look. But she didn't notice.

“You're cute,” she said. “Can I sit with you?”

“I'm sorry. I'm afraid I already have a companion.” He nodded his head in Abby's direction, and she smiled, giving the nurse a friendly little wave.

The nurse's face fell. “Okay, then,” she said sadly. “Well, in case she flakes out on you, I'll be at that table in the corner. I'll be watching.” She smiled at him sunnily. “Every move.”

“Better not,” he advised sardonically. “You'll make me nervous. I'm liable to drop my fork or something.”

She giggled. “If you drop a fork, I'll swoop down and pick it up for you, Mr. Green Eyes.”

“Don't bother,” he told her. “I think we'll be able to handle the silverware.”

He took advantage of her momentary lack of attention to push past her and join Abby in time to pay for both of them. Abby gave him a look full of amusement but she didn't say anything until they'd chosen their table and sat down, setting out on the table between them Abby's bagel and cream cheese and Daniel's toast and smoked salmon, along with their tea and lingonberry jam.

“My gosh, I didn't realize you were such a babe magnet,” Abby said, laughing.

He shook his head, feeling exasperated. “It's been like this all week.”

She nodded wisely, taking a bite from her bagel. “I'll bet it's been like this all your life.”

He decided to level with her. Why not? Maybe it was time they got some of their cards out on the table.

“You'd lose that bet. It's just been this last week or so. And do you know why?”

Her eyes widened, chewing suspended. “No. Tell me.”

He looked around the room. “If you go and ask these people—the lovesick ones I mean—every one of them will have some connection to the clinic.”

She made a skeptical face. “How can you know that?”

He shrugged. “Try it.” He took a bite of his toast, generously loaded with pink salmon.

She stared at him, and, for just a moment, she looked uncertain. Then she shook her head. “Let me get this straight. You think some sort of love virus is going around and the clinic is the carrier?”

His gaze was steady and sure. “You got it.”

“That's crazy.”

He shrugged again. “Call me a nut case.”

“I might just have to. I think you're reading things into the fact that people who've been to the clinic are happier people and more likely to be friendly. That's all.”

“It's more than that. You haven't noticed that it's like a looney bin around here?”

“No.”

“Everyone is falling madly in love with the first person they meet up with in the morning.”

“You're exaggerating.” She made a face at him. “Just because Dr. Richie's lectures and other things at the clinic are giving people a feeling of well-being and giving them the confidence to express feelings they may have hidden for years—”

“It's much more than that and you know it.”

“No, I don't.”

His attention was diverted as he noticed a stocky, balding man heading toward their table with an intensity Daniel was beginning to recognize as common around the hospital. The man's gaze was fixed lovingly on Abby.

“Look out,” Daniel warned in a low voice. “Male suspect at three o'clock and closing fast.”

“What are you talking about?” She glanced around and saw the man, then smiled briefly, putting down her teacup. “Hello, Dr. Porter.”

“Abby. Ah, Abby.” The smitten man took her hand between both of his and brought it to his lips. Abby looked startled.

“Well, I'm…glad to see you, too.”

Dr. Porter gazed at her with all the devotion of a lovesick cocker spaniel. “Abby, my dear, you don't know how you've changed my life.”

“I have?” Abby looked as though she regretted whatever she'd done to bring on this salute.

“Yes. Since you got me involved at the clinic, I'm a changed person.” Dr. Porter glanced sideways at Daniel, seeming to notice him for the first time, but apparently the doctor decided to ignore him for the moment. “And, Abby, it's all because of you.”

“Well, I'm so glad.”

“Look. I've already lost ten pounds.”

“Good for you.”

He glanced at Daniel again, frowning slightly, and seemed to decide he couldn't ignore him any longer. “Uh, Abby, who is this man?” He motioned toward Daniel. “A mere colleague I hope? Not a significant other?”

Abby looked at Daniel. “Well, uh, this is…”

“Her fiancé,” Daniel said firmly, rising and sticking out his hand. “Daniel O'Callahan. Nice to meet you, Doctor.”

Abby's jaw had dropped, so Daniel felt he'd better keep the doctor's attention aimed his way for a moment or two more. “Yup, wedding in June and all that.”

“June?” Dr. Porter looked suspicious. “It's August right now.”

“So it is. Well, we both believe in long engagements, don't we, Abby darling?”

Abby had regained control of her jaw, but her eyes were big as saucers. “What?” she said breathlessly.

“Sweetie-pie? Better half? Demon lover?” He grinned at her. “You tell me which you like best.”

Dr. Porter drew back as though he'd been stung. From the look on his face, one would have to conclude he didn't approve.

“Such a shame,” he muttered, nodding to the two of them before shuffling off toward a table full of nurses.

“You see what I mean?” Daniel told Abby. “He's been to the clinic and caught the bug.”

She frowned. “Then why haven't you caught it? And why haven't I caught it?”

He winced at the last question, but answered the first. “I haven't used any of the clinic products.”

Abby was staring at him and he had the distinct impression she was finally understanding what this was all about, even if she didn't recognize the fact that she was tied up in it all. What was he going to say to her? How could he gently get her to look at her own changes, analyze them, see where they came from? And once he did that, was she going to hate him? He knew how she was going to feel once she realized he was a cop, investigating her precious clinic—and her precious Dr. Richie. And he wasn't looking forward to it.

Abby pushed her food away, but before she could launch into whatever lecture she was preparing in her head, Wilbur Mason came in and approached their table. The man had lost his usual sunny composure. He looked as though he'd just lost his best friend as well.

“What is it, Wilbur?” Daniel asked. “You'd better sit down.”

He did so, heavily, and leaned both elbows on the tabletop. “Ella won't speak to me,” he said,
tragedy etching lines in his face. “She won't even let me in her shop.”

Daniel glanced at Abby. Ella often acted annoyed with Wilbur, but Daniel had had the impression she secretly liked the attention.

“Did you try the serenade idea yet?” he asked.

“No.” Wilbur brightened a bit. “But I did find a great guitar at the pawn shop.”

“Good. Start practicing and get yourself a rose bush.”

Wilbur sat a little taller. “That's exactly what I'm planning to do.” Color began returning to his cheeks. “It may take me a while.” He frowned doubtfully and looked at Daniel. “Do you think I've got enough time?”

“Of course you do. You've got forever, in your own terms.” Daniel had no idea what that meant, but it sounded good, and all he wanted to do was comfort the man and buck him up a bit.

“Very true, young man.” Wilbur was looking like his old self again. “That's very wise.” He smiled. “Ah, Ella, Ella. She's so lovely.”

Daniel's left eyebrow rose all of its own accord. “Yes,” he murmured, “especially with the blue eye shadow.”

Abby kicked him under the table, but Wilbur hadn't noticed anything amiss. He was full of confidence again. “I'd better get going,” he said, rising from his chair. “I've got a guitar lesson in half an hour. Wish me luck!”

And he was off. Daniel turned to Abby with a questioning look. “Are you beginning to get the picture here?”

She squirmed uncomfortably. “Daniel, I think you should have a bit more compassion for these people. Can't you be a little more sensitive to their pain?”

He leaned toward her. “And I think you need to be a little less naive. Something fishy is going on at that clinic.”

She stared back at him, and he could see that she knew he was right.

“So,” she said softly, “what do you plan to do about it?”

 

Carrie Martin stared out at the pouring rain. Sheltered by the spacious kiosk situated outside the hospital, she was waiting for the bus that would take her to her job as hostess at La Grenouille Dorée, one of Portland's fanciest restaurants. And her feet hurt.

“You'll get used to it,” she kept telling herself. She had formerly taught math at a private school in San Francisco. She'd had to stand a lot at that, too, but somehow it just wasn't as rough on her feet as hostessing was.

“Oh, well, you won't have to do this much longer.”

That was the second thing she kept telling herself. She'd come to Portland with one goal in mind—confronting her ex-husband, Richard Strokudnowski, known to the world as Dr. Richie Strong. She'd been here for weeks and she hadn't summoned up enough nerve to do it yet. In fact, she was spending far too much time in a state of ambivalence. Did she really need to do this? Would it change anything?