Lori Avocato - Nip, Tuck, Dead

Charity events did not seem up a teen’s alley.

While waiters walked around, offering silver trays of fabulous hors d’oeuvres to the crowd, Mrs. Wheaton-Chandler took center stage. Of course there was no real stage, but she stood near a set up area next to a white baby grand piano, potted palms and gigantic white flowered arrangements.

“Thank you all so much for coming,” she started, as I scanned the room for Jagger.

Knowing him, he might have hightailed it out of the place and left me to my investigating all alone. Half of the time I think Jagger actually liked teaching me the ropes and the other half I think he felt obligated and probably annoyed at coming to save me when I hung myself on one of those ropes.

“Here.”

I swung around to see Jagger standing there with a glass of champagne held out toward me.

“Where the hell did you go?” I took the champagne, sipped it, and wrinkled my face. “Ick. Do they have any sugar I can stick in this stuff?”

He shook his head.

“What? So I don’t like expensive champagne.”

“They don’t have Coors in bottles at these things. And I was working before, Sherlock,” he said, looked me in the eye and then walked away.

Walked away!

While Olivia went on about what a wonderful cause this was in the name of her past employee, Ian James, I moved about the guests. As she sang Ian’s praise, I scanned the crowd. No one even looked familiar until I got close enough to two women. From behind they could have passed for twins.

Daphne Baines and Babette LaPierre.

For a second I debated sneaking away before they noticed me. Then I decided, what the hell? Maybe I’d learn something from them. “Ladies,” I said, causing them to turn around.

Both gave me a “who the hell are you” kind of look until Babette said, “Oh, the nurse.”

Daphne added, “What are you doing here? I can’t imagine you make a good enough salary to win any auction tonight.”

After squeezing my champagne goblet so tight I thought it would shatter in my grasp, I smiled and said, “I’m not into antiques anyway.”

“Then you wouldn’t want to bid on old Doc Harrington, the heart specialist,” Babette said.

Both women laughed hysterically.

I was ready to say that I’d noted a few new laugh lines on each of them, but my Catholic-school-induced conscience wouldn’t let me. Shit. What the hell was Babette talking about anyway?

Before I could ask, I heard a man say, “First bachelor of the night. A fantastic catch ladies and certainly going to be our biggest moneymaker.”

I followed both Babette’s and Daphne’s drooling stares to the podium to come eye-to-eye with…Dr. Neal Forsyth.

Neal? Neal? Neal was up for auction? Apparently so, as the gentleman who’d introduced Neal started taking bids-starting at ten grand!

Wow. Last night I’d nearly gotten a real bargain, I thought, and would have loved to shove that in the perfect man-made faces of the two women…who were no longer next to me.

“Fifteen thousand!” Babette yelled out.

Suddenly she and Daphne were way up front bidding against each other along with plenty of other women in the room. Make that every woman in the room. However, one of the voices from the back sounded rather deep, and kept outbidding everyone.

I sipped my champagne, decided it actually tasted delicious and laughed and enjoyed the festivities, as everyone else in the room seemed to be doing.

“Going once, twice, three times,” the auctioneer said, finishing with, “Two hundred fifty-five thousand to the anonymous bidder in the rear.”

Everyone in the room turned around. No one was there except two waiters with half empty trays.

The auctioneer laughed. “Of course we won’t take that bid out of those gentlemen’s salaries. No, the bidding is complete and anonymous, however the bidder informed us that I am to announce who the winner is right now.”

For rowdy, snooty rich folks, the room hushed instantly.

“The bidder has already paid up, and the winner of the date with Dr. Forsyth is…Ms. Pauline Sokol.”

Along with everyone else, I looked around the room to see who the hell she was.

Hands covered my eyes so I gave a swift slug behind me with my elbow.

“Ouch! Hey, Pauline. It’s me. Your prize.”

My eyes were uncovered as I swung around to come face-to-face with Neal.

“I won you? I won you, Neal?”

He laughed and kissed my cheek. “Don’t be so shocked, Pauline. I had Marie do the bidding. I thought it a great surprise for you. It’s for a good cause, you know. The scholarship goes to a high school student who is underprivileged.”

Hm. Guess I could have sex with Neal for such a worthy cause. I would have figured the entire thing out, but I never got to see Marie. Oh, those upstairs or downstairs maids were so discreet!

Suddenly I had a strong urge to go to confession. Damn that morality-induced upbringing. I looked at Neal, allowed myself a little hot flash and said, “Guess I could suck it up.”

We laughed as he hugged me-and over his shoulder I saw Jagger…approaching.

Damn. Now I didn’t have any time to question Neal to see if he knew who paid for our date.

Trying not to be too obvious, I eased myself free of a rather surprised Neal, and why wouldn’t he be? After last night’s antics, I shouldn’t have been embarrassed to be held by him in public, but there was Jagger, approaching!

“Oh, Neal, have you met Jagger?” I asked before he got close enough to even hear.

Neal turned around, and I’m sure suddenly had second thoughts about dating me, even for 255 grand. “Um. No. Jagger?”

Jagger came up to me and eyed Neal. “Hey.”

I introduced the two as “he’s also staying at the lodge,” that’d be Jagger, and “Goldie’s doctor,” that’d be Neal. Sounded very noncommittal I thought and mentally patted myself on the back.

The two kinda growled at each other, then Neal was called up to the “stage” area to announce the grand total made for the auction and Jagger stood silently next to me-and I could feel every second of him staring at me.

The crowd yelled and clapped after Neal announced a staggering number that had been paid for the bachelors. I couldn’t help myself as I leaned toward Jagger, who still looked at me, and said, “They could have doubled it if you were auctioned off.” Then I laughed.

He glared at me.

Oops. “Lighten up, Jagger. It’s for a good cause.”

I know he wanted to say something about my “winning” Neal, but probably didn’t want me to think he cared. “Who paid for your ‘date’?”

Damn. I’d nearly forgotten about that. “Hm. You know I have no idea. Do you?”

Jagger looked down at me, and I’m sure wanted to roll his eyes. “You need to find out. Could be related to your case.”

“My case? What the hell does this have to do with my case?”

Jagger stood silent.

I punched his chest. Not that he probably even felt it, but I said, “Do you know something you’re not sharing with me? Something about Mr. Baines’s murder?”

“That case is closed.”

Then Ian really did kill him. But why? “Aren’t the cops even looking for motive?”

“What for? They can’t prosecute a corpse.”

I punched him again. “Ian was a person-”

“Who killed Mr. Baines.”

I went to punch him again, but this time his reflexes came into play and he grabbed my arm.

“But then who killed Ian?”

Jagger looked out past me as if he were thinking. “The cops have ruled his death a suicide.”

“Suicide?” My heart sank. How awful, yet, knowing Ian, it did sound believable. “Oh,” was all I could manage.