Lori Avocato - Dead On Arrival

That was what I tried to convince myself of, but in reality, I sensed there was something more. Something Jagger was keeping to himself (surprise, surprise). Something, maybe, from a past relationship-because he certainly reigned in his feelings with me.

With us.

“So? What did you find before Payne came in?” he asked again-thank goodness, because I didn’t like where I was going in my head. “I assume he came in and found you.”

“Yeah. He came in, all right.” I proceeded to tell Jagger about the files that I found, which convinced me that Payne Sterling was a criminal-but an empty feeling nagged at me all the while.

Jagger took a step back.

A step back physically…and a step back from my heart.

After Jagger’s kiss and our discussion of the case-which still had us stymied at square one-I made it back home in record time. Had to, or I’d have stalked Jagger for the rest of the night. Funny thing was, I had no idea where he lived and often thought the guy just “disappeared” into thin air when not around.

Made him so damn mysterious.

The living room was quiet when I opened the door, and I figured Goldie and Miles were out. It was a bit too early for anyone to be asleep, so I called Spanky, who came running like an obedient dog-now that Jagger wasn’t with me.

I bent down and rubbed Spank’s tummy. “Hey, buddy. How you been?”

After a few more rubs, I let him out and got myself a glass of warm milk. I stuck a pat of butter in it and watched it slowly melt. This was Stella Sokol’s old remedy for us kids when we couldn’t sleep. Of course she’d die if she knew Jagger’s kiss was what I envisioned was going to keep me awake like a gallon of caffeine would.

Then again, there was that time she changed all my undies to thongs while I was away on a case.

Maybe I misjudged my mother.

I laughed and took a sip of the concoction, all the while ignoring the gazillion cholesterol grams that floated before my eyes.

Spanky was taking his good old time, so I went to the phone to see if anyone had called. The red light blinked three times, so I pushed play.

“Pauline? Pauline Sokol?”

I rolled my eyes at my mother’s voice. She always talked to the machine as if it were alive. Make that as if it were me.

“Pauline, this is your mother. I want you to come for dinner tomorrow night. Be here at six sharp. Bring the boys. You know what I mean. The homosexual men.”

I groaned and let Spanky back in. “She’s going to drive me insane, Spanks.” He looked as if he agreed. He knew her very well. “Guess there’s no trying to get out of it though.”

Spanky nodded.

I waited for the second message. “Pauline Sokol, this is Nancy at Banker’s Holding Company-”

“Damn!” I poked at the delete button, silencing Nancy. No point in hearing her remind me that my car payment was due. Past due. I’d send it in tomorrow. I would!

I looked at Spanky. Not sure if dogs even had eyebrows, but he seemed to raise one in disbelief. “Shut up. I will send it in. I’ll postdate a check and get paid soon.” This should be a fast case, with Payne already dead.

Spanky gave me a “yeah sure” look and walked away. The little creature of habit knew when it was bedtime, and I figured he was headed upstairs. I started to turn and the last message began in a garbled, almost robotic voice. Reminded me of the device patients who had suffered cancer of the larynx used.

“Two plus two equals four. Then if four plus four equals eight, what does that mean, Pauline? What does eight mean for you? For your life, Sokol? Wanna find out?” Sick laughter filled my kitchen. I dropped my glass of milk, the contents splashing across Miles’s immaculate white kitchen floor. “Get the hell out of TLC.”

That last part came out so clearly, so threatening, so menacing, that I gasped.

“Do you have to listen to that again?” I asked Jagger as Goldie and Miles both made little sounds of shock.

“I’m guessing you didn’t call me over here to chat, Sherlock. Just listening for clues.” He gave a sympathetic look to Goldie and Miles, who were huddled at the kitchen table, both holding my hand. Same one. “Maybe you guys want to wait in the living room?” he asked.

I had to smile at that thoughtful suggestion. Jagger was such a dichotomy of personalities, but I loved that he cared about my dearest friends in the world.

“We’re fine,” Miles said, tightening his hold.

“I’m gonna take this to Shatley and have his boys analyze it.” Jagger lifted the tape out of the recorder and all I could say was, “Glad we have the old-fashioned kind of machine instead of the tapeless one.”

Everyone looked at me.

No one smiled.

Amazingly enough, I slept a few hours that night. Of course, knowing Jagger was sleeping on our couch downstairs had something to do with it.

He really did represent safety for me.

When my alarm went off, I got up, not in the mood to lounge around, although I always thought the best feeling in the world was waking up and staying in bed while still in that glorious restful state.

I couldn’t even pretend last night was restful.

Who the hell was that on the tape? Who knew my number? What did the damn riddle mean? And, more important, why me?

After showering and dressing in my blue scrubs-which I hated but thought today was a day I should wear them, for some strange reason-I headed downstairs, inhaling maple syrup and coffee aromas coming from the kitchen.

I pushed open the kitchen door. Jagger sat at the counter, reading the newspaper. Spanky was nestled at his feet, with traces of maple syrup on his whiskers, and Miles and Goldie ate solemnly at the table.

I wanted to hug both of them. No, all three…four of them.

“Hey, why so gloomy?”

“Suga?” Goldie squealed.

“Okay, I know why, but stop it, you two. What a great breakfast,” I said, taking my teacup and putting water in it. The decaffeinated green tea bag was already in it. A dish, with aluminum foil covering it, sat at my place, and I turned to Jagger. “Thanks. Breakfast smells great.”

He merely nodded. We all ate in silence and then Goldie and Miles kissed my cheeks simultaneously (and held me way too long, as if they knew this was my last day on earth).

I said a quick prayer that my darling roomies were not clairvoyant.

“Stop following me around, Jagger,” I said close to his ear so no one else in the employee lounge would hear.

Buzz Lightyear sat at the ready, with a newspaper in hand but not reading. Two other EMTs watched the Today show and darling ER Dano sat in the corner by himself, drinking steaming coffee. Damn, he made it look so delicious.

Jagger said nothing but took a step away from me. He’d been following me all morning since we left the condo, as if the threatening phone caller, whom I nicknamed “Robotman,” was right on my tail.

Usually having Jagger so close would be fun. Sexy. Sensual. Pheromonally intoxicating.

But today he annoyed me.

That, in all reality, was because I was on edge-but didn’t want him to know it. When he was so protective, I interpreted that as him fearing for me. I didn’t much like Jagger being afraid for anyone or anything.

“Four five six, we have a possible Eight ninety-two at 24 Chester Drive,” came over the intercom.

Jagger looked at me, dumped his coffee cup on the nearest table and headed toward the door. Buzz jumped to attention, so I figured he’d be riding with us. Great. That put me in the back. And ER Dano took the last sip of his black coffee, set the mug down and sauntered to the door.

Once outside, ER got into the driver’s seat, although I could tell Buzz was dying to drive. He looked like a puppy wildly wagging his tail in anticipation.