Lori Avocato - Nip, Tuck, Dead

Wait a minute, guess he just did.

I mentally shook my head and thought about Goldie’s question of how the women got the insurance companies to pay. We knew the doctors were involved with diagnosing them with medical conditions in order to justify the surgery-but how come the insurance companies bought that?

Because the doctors were credible.

I sprang upright.

Goldie startled and pulled back. “What’s wrong, Suga?”

“Oh, sorry. Nothing is wrong, Gold. I’ve been thinking. The doctors that file these claims have to be pretty credible in their made-up diagnoses. I mean, if they had to send in a photo of the patient, any fool would see someone like Daphne or Babette didn’t need anything tucked. And if all they filed was for a deviated septum-”

Goldie’s hand flew to his face.

I touched my nose and smiled. “You’re going to notice a huge difference in your breathing once the swelling goes down.”

“Swelling!”

Oh, boy. I had to remind myself whom I was dealing with. I got up, hurried over and hugged him. “I’m going to have you packed in ice to prevent any swelling. Really…oh…my…God!”

“What?”

I pointed to the TV. “Turn it up. Turn it up!”

A blond-haired, blue-eyed yuppie newscaster stood outside some mansion. The bottom of the TV said, NEWPORT, RHODE ISLAND. “The police were called only minutes earlier to the Bellevue Avenue home of Mr. Chester Baines, real estate mogul…”

Goldie and I hurried toward the television and sat on the floor beneath it.

The blond continued with, “The body was found by the upstairs maid, who says she immediately called 911.”

“They really have upstairs maids?” I muttered. Then I looked at Goldie. “Daphne was murdered?”

“Sounds like.” He ran his hand across his chin. I had to smile since it was such a “male” thing to do. You had to love Goldie.

“Wow. That adds a new wrinkle to this case. Wonder why someone would kill her? Wish we knew more about her-”

That jaw thing happened as I pointed to the television.

“What the hell?”

The police and some fancy dressed man (lawyer type) were walking Daphne down the huge marble staircase in front of her place.

“If she’s alive, who…”

“Behind me you can see,” the news reporter said, “Mrs. Daphne Baines is being taken in for questioning about the death of Chester Baines, her husband.”

Goldie and I looked at each other. “Shit,” we both said.

After being glued to the television set for the next few hours, waiting for more information about the death of Daphne’s husband (the man I, in fact, recognized as the one on the cliff), Goldie grew tired, and I didn’t want to have him get worn down before his surgery. Tomorrow Dr. Cook would let us know what day it was scheduled for. In the meantime, he went through the routine program they insisted on of healthy diet, exercise, and pampering the hell out of the patients (this in my words).

Great. This program would buy me time.

“I’ll head back to the lodge, Gold. You get some rest. Thanks for all your help with my case.” I kissed him on the cheek, tucked a violet silken duvet around him after he’d settled himself on the top of the bed, and then I slipped out the door.

They didn’t have too many male clients at Highcliff, but dear Gold was in his element-especially in violet.

The reception desk was empty. Ian had left hours ago. I wondered what he’d have to say about the recent news story. An elderly woman, though very attractive, bustled about in the back room. She must have been the evening receptionist, but I had no desire to stick around and find out. I had enough to think about for tonight.

Patients came and went, with bandages being the name of the fashion here. One woman, who hovered about silently, had her face so wrapped up I wondered what the heck she’d had for a procedure. Maybe I’d ask. Then again, she probably couldn’t speak if she wanted to.

Time to get out of there, since all I wanted was a hot, exotic-scented bath and then to lie in bed and read. When I got outside and realized it was already getting dark, I leaned against the wall of the front doorway and did some stretches. An extra jog could never hurt and thank goodness I wore my jogging shoes with my scrubs.

I was the height of fashion in Newport.

In order to stay on the well-lit streets, I decided to jog out to Bellevue Avenue. I hadn’t forgotten that I would have to pass Daphne’s place. Place. Ha! How could a mansion the size of Hope Valley’s town hall be called a place?

I started out at my usual pace and when I came near the Baines residence, where several patrol cars sat with lights blinking like synchronized strobes, my pace quickened. The urge to slow down was difficult to face, but I figured I’d never learn anything for my case around here.

When I went to pick up my pace, I noticed someone fly out of the topiary butterflies on the left lawn. Male. Thin. Light hair. I crossed the street for better viewing even though in the dusk it didn’t help. Amid all the cars-with passengers who had stopped to gawk at the crime scene, I was sure-I made it to the sidewalk in time to see the brown-jacketed guy with red shirt make it over the wall on the northern end.

That didn’t seem right.

When I went around the corner, he was gone. No sign of anyone.

I hurried over to the front of the house to find someone in charge and ran smack dab into a uniformed cop. “Oh!”

He grabbed my arm, more out of saving me from landing in the topiary ducks than from anger. “Whoa! You all right?”

I yanked free and breathlessly said, “I saw someone, a man run through the butterflies and over the fence. Wall. Over the wall. Light hair, brown jacket, red shirt and male. A male man.”

He looked at me a few seconds as if in disbelief.

“I’m not kidding!”

Finally he turned toward two other policemen, standing by within earshot, and said, “Go check it out, boys.”

I brushed a twig of green leaves off my arm. “Good. Well, good luck.” I started to turn when I felt a hand on my arm.

“Not so fast, ma’am. I’ll need some information from you in case we need any questions answered.”

“Oh, right.” I wanted to tell the cop that I was a P.I. but realizing what I looked like, thought better. Instead I went along with being a private duty nurse jogging to the lodge and gave him all the answers I could, including how I’d seen Mr. and Mrs. Baines on Cliff Walk.

Soon I was off to the Samuel Freeman Lodge in a run, and wanting nothing more than that damn bath. The way I felt, even a nightly ghost visit would have been welcome.

I slowed one block away and noticed my shoe was untied. My luck would be to step on the shoelaces and fall flat on my face so I bent down to fix it. A car slowed enough for the lights to shine in my eyes. “Damn it,” I muttered.

Then a shadow came from the bushes.

Looked like the one at the Baines mansion. Thin. Red shirt. I readied to shout to him, but didn’t need to. He turned in my direction, plowed forward-and before I could scream, I was pushed down to the ground with a smack against my head.

The car lights dimmed-then went out.

My head hurts, I thought while I rubbed at it. Then I opened my eyes to see I was on the ground and recognized I was a block from the lodge. No one was around. That guy from the Baines mansion! He must have knocked me over!

Shoot. Was it coincidence that he hit me or had he seen me there and knew that I’d seen him? Oh, great. One more thing to worry about. Why couldn’t I just do my job without threats to life or limb?

I eased myself up. Rubbed my head again as if that would do something then started toward the lodge. Once in the front door, I nodded to the innkeeper and headed up the stairs toward my room with no intention of telling her what just happened. I’d pass the info on to the cops.