Lori Avocato - Nip, Tuck, Dead

Very clever guy that Ian.

But was he somehow involved in the fraud and knocking me over-not to mention Mr. Baines’s murder?

My heart skipped a few needed beats on that one. Just the mention of the word did that to me since I changed professions mid-career. Sure I’d dealt with death in nursing, but murder took on a whole new meaning-and not a very pleasant one.

Little Mary Sunshine. Darth Vader. Brad Pitt. Johnny Depp. I took a moment to sigh. Little Red Riding Hood and Alice out of Wonderland. What the heck kinds of file names were those? I didn’t have time to open and close each one so I had to make a judgment call here.

What would Ian title his most secret file?

I ran the cursor along the right column to scan down the list of file names on the left side. Suddenly one caught my attention. All the others had been capitalized but not this one: ff.

At first I thought it a typo, then I leaned back in my chair. Frequent fliers. Ian had called the repeat customers “frequent fliers.” I clicked on the file folder icon and opened a document that listed familiar names like Daphne Baines, Devin McCloud, and Babette LaPierre. Ian had been wrong though. There weren’t only seven names listed.

There were twelve.

And all files were dated within the last six months.

Because of Lydia, I clicked on Devin’s file first. “Oh…my…God!” snuck out before I could swallow it back. The before and after and after and after photos of the guy were unbelievable. He’d started out looking as if he’d spent way too much time in the sun and at a young age, and thus had more wrinkles than a Chinese shar-pei. Not only was his nose bigger than needed, but it also seemed too far up on his face.

Remembering back to lunch-nothing was misplaced on old Devin’s mug now.

I ran through the file and saw he’d had numerous surgeries in a very short amount of time. Dr. Forsyth had performed the first few then Dr. Cook took over.

Suddenly I wondered if I really wanted to go out with Neal. Then again, I’d do it for my case. In my mind I could hear my mother saying, Pauline, if you lie, your nose will grow like Pinocchio’s but since yours is not wood, it will hang down to your knees.

Man! That had to have had some physiological effect on me. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t such a good liar. Nevertheless, I had to go out with Neal and find out more about these patients.

Quickly I opened and read six of the others’ files, including Babette’s and Daphne’s since I “knew” them. All really did suffer from BDD. There were a few notes from Neal about “highly suggest waiting on this procedure,” then the next entry would be a pre-op note from Dr. Cook stating that he and Dr. Forsyth had discussed the issue and surgery was scheduled in a week.

Neal had agreed.

Damn.

I heard a rustling sound and paused.

“Ian, can you get me the file on Mrs. Benoit, please?” a woman called out.

Shit!

I mumbled an “Uh-huh,” all the while hoping the woman wouldn’t lean over the desk.

“I’ll be back in ten,” she said and I heard the clicking of shoes getting fainter.

Quickly I jumped up to see her standing by the elevator. She couldn’t see me since Ian had the most beautiful silk flower arrangements adorning the area. One of the larger ones had a school of tiny fish swimming about in the clear glass vase. The plants were real since long roots fluttered in the water, giving it a wonderful fantasy atmosphere. It was almost as if Ian had built himself a stylish, chic barrier around his workstation.

Very interesting.

I could see that the woman was one of the nurses, since she had on navy scrubs with matching clogs. Thank goodness I had excellent vision for distance and could read her name tag: Kerie Cetin. I hadn’t met any of the nursing staff yet, but she would be a start.

My only problem was, how to get her message to Ian?

When I clicked the close button on the ff file, I heard Goldie talking so loudly that one would think he was deaf. For a second I thought about yelling at him to quiet down, but then realized-Goldie!

Working better under stress, I scribbled a note for Ian about Mrs. Benoit’s file, signed it a messy Kerie and jumped up. Before they made it back to the desk, I was out the front door, huffing and puffing-not from lack of exercise, but merely from nearly getting caught.

“Sounds as if someone is not in very good shape.”

I swung around toward the voice. “Oh, hi, Dr. Forsyth.”

“Neal. Please.”

Neal? Please? What the heck? “Oh, yeah. Neal. Actually I am very much in shape…I mean…my body has never been…er…actually I’m fitter today-”

I felt a finger touch gently to my lips.

Since I was making such a fool of myself, he should have just strangled me.

“I have two eyes, Pauline. I can clearly see what shape you are in.”

My knees buckled.

Thank goodness I wasn’t an airhead and could recover my wishful thoughts quickly. I took in a deep breath, let it out slowly then smiled at Neal. “You’re a doll to say that.” Hopefully that came out chatty and not enticing.

“Are you finished for the day?”

I leaned against the stone wall that ran the length of the driveway and, wondering why everyone around here thought I was leaving-or maybe should be-said, “Oh, no. I have to review some pre-op stuff with Goldie. Mr. Perlman, that is.”

He chuckled. “He’s quite the character.”

My shoulders stiffened. No one insulted my dear friend. But then Neal chuckled again, and I got the feeling he wasn’t really making fun of Goldie. “He is a fantastic guy,” I said.

Neal smiled. “I’m sure. Look, how is next Monday for you?”

Next Monday? I barely knew what I was going to be doing in the next hour. Back in my nursing days, every hour, every minute, was planned out to meet patients’ needs and do patient care. Since leaving that highly organized profession, I found my days had no plan to them. I could come and go and do my investigating as I pleased. Seems as if my organizational skills had burned out with my resignation from that career.

It still amazed me to surf the TV channels to see Jerry Springer or Martha Stewart mid-morning. However, it hadn’t taken me long to get used to the fact that I could come and go at will. “I think Monday would be fine, depending on Goldie’s recovery.” I stood there smiling and waiting.

“I’ll pick you up around seven.” He smiled back and again my knees did the thing they do when a hot guy gives me that look. Jell-O.

“Okay. So. Seven.” I turned toward the door. “Oh, Neal. I forgot to tell you where to pick me up. I’m at the-”

“-Freeman Lodge. Got it.”

Got it? How the hell did he get it?

Once in Goldie’s room, I flopped onto the bed and while sinking into the fluffy duvet said, “I need a moment here, Gold.”

Got it? Now I really was curious to know how Neal knew where I was staying. I shut my eyes to try to remember if I’d ever mentioned it. Why would I have though?

I felt the bed sink on my left side and peeked out to see Goldie lying there, sans makeup, wig, and wearing a white tee shirt and jeans. Male jeans. He looked adorable.

“Hey, Gold.” I opened my eyes and pushed up onto three pillows. “Do you remember me ever telling Neal that I was staying at the Freeman Lodge?”

Goldie flopped onto his stomach next to me and looked me in the eye. “Neal? Neal?”

I slapped his arm. “Stop that. It’s nothing. Merely a tour of Newport and a meal.”

“Ha! Hey, I’m glad you have the hots for my doc.”

“Yeah. Okay. You found me out. I’m only going out with him to make sure his hands don’t shake when he holds his steak knife!”

Goldie let out a loud fake shriek.