Jacqueline Diamond - The Doctor's Little Secret

“I wouldn’t call it a game exactly,” remarked a fellow who’d given his name as Joel Simmons. “Hope you brought your swimsuit, Rache.”

“Nah. I’ll have to borrow.” Leaving to the imagination exactly what she expected to borrow in a houseful of guys, she led the way to the patio.

A long table held plates, buns and condiments. Beyond it, a group of men and women lounged in plastic chairs watching basketball on a portable TV. To their left, a muscular aproned man—presumably the host—tended a humongous hooded grill.

Russ and Rachel retrieved soft drinks from an ice-filled cooler. “I’ll save the beer for later,” she explained. “Better be on my toes if there’s a challenge.”

An assortment of dented bicycles leaned against the cement wall that surrounded the yard. Russ was about to ask their purpose when a burst of smoke poured from the barbecue as the cook lifted the hood. “That’s Hale. We better find out what’s on the agenda before he gets busy serving.” Rachel strode in his direction.

She made introductions. When their host heard Russ’s occupation, the detective said, “Good idea, bringing a doctor.”

That sounded ominous. “What’s with the bikes?” Russ asked.

“They were left over from the police auction last week. I bought ’em cheap.”

Russ had read about the sale, which raised money for the department by disposing of unclaimed stolen or lost goods. That didn’t explain why Hale had decided to decorate his backyard with them, a point that wasn’t lost on Rachel.

“Bicycles, pool. They don’t exactly go together.” Picking up a pair of tongs, she snagged a blackened green pepper strip, blew on it and tossed it into her mouth. Her eyes grew teary.

Hale grinned. “Hot enough for you?”

She dashed the heat with a swallow of soda. “Jalapeño?” She’d plainly assumed it to be a bell pepper.

“Worse. Thai dragon.” The name said it all. “So you want to hear about the bikes?”

Although Rachel seemed to have trouble speaking clearly, she managed to nod.

Hale proceeded to outline a contest. Competitors chose a bike and pedaled around the pool. After making a hairpin turn at one end, they were to hop off the bike, dive in and swim across. The entire procedure would be timed.

Rachel chugged more soda. “What’s the prize?” she wheezed, still suffering the effects of the pepper.

“Case of beer.”

Of course, Russ thought.

“Cold?” said Rachel.

“My fridge isn’t that large,” Hale responded. “You in?”

Russ couldn’t let his new friend risk her neck. “Riding bikes on wet pavement sounds dangerous. Have you played this before?”

“Nope. Just thought of it,” Hale responded proudly, and laid cheese slices atop a couple of burgers.

“Did you try it yourself?” Russ challenged.

“Sure. Matter of fact, I set the baseline. Thirty seconds.” Hale gestured toward the pool. “Piece of cake.”

Recognizing the futility of citing the risks, Russ tried a different tactic. “Have you checked your homeowners policy for liability?”

“The department has great medical insurance,” Hale returned casually. To the other guests, he bellowed, “Come and get it!”

Her mind obviously made up, Rachel requested the loan of some shorts and a T-shirt. Hale directed her to the second bedroom on the right.

As she disappeared into the interior, Russ reminded himself that he wasn’t Rachel’s date or her keeper, just a tag-along. She obviously had a thrill-seeking personality.

After Hale finished dishing out burgers, Russ seized the opportunity to press, “I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

The other man considered briefly. Then he asked, “What kind of doctor did you say you were?”

“Pediatrician.”

“That explains it.” Hale nodded with satisfaction, as if he’d discovered the source of what he considered excessive anxiety. “Don’t worry, Doc. It isn’t as if I’m letting a kid do this.”

Hopeless.

Rachel wasn’t the only daredevil in the crowd. During her absence, a wiry fellow grabbed a bike, issued a war cry and hit the pedals full force, zipping around the pool fully dressed except for bare feet.

The racing-style bike swerved at the end and slipped a little as he climbed off. Applause went up from the spectators as he leaped over the still-spinning wheels, hit the water and churned his way to the far side.

“Twenty-six seconds!” Hale hooted. “He’s in the lead!”

The pressure of police work must accumulate until these guys were dying to let off steam, Russ mused. He only hoped nobody got hurt. Especially not Rachel.

A second contestant set off to a round of cheers, but lost his balance on the second turn. He had to plant both feet on the ground to avoid falling.

“Default!” Hale yelled.

“Ow!” A string of curses blistered the air as the man regarded his badly scraped soles. He limped off, presumably to find first aid.

More people emerged from inside for a fresh round of burgers. Between bites, they challenged each other to participate.

“You’re outta luck, you losers. The winner’s here.” Rachel marched out with a swagger. She’d traded her clothes for a USC Trojans T-shirt and oversize shorts with an extension cord doubling as a belt. Long legs ended in shapely bare feet. She looked rough-and-ready and incredibly sexy.

Russ contemplated a further effort to stop her, but the crowd was calling out encouragement. Clasping both hands above her head, Rachel performed an impromptu previctory prance. At this point, he guessed she’d dive into an empty pool before she’d beg off.

The question of how the chief might react crossed his mind. But the chief wasn’t here, and Captain Ferguson didn’t appear to object.

“Where’d you find that cord?” Hale demanded of Rachel.

“Your room.” She stopped dancing around.

“Can you be more specific?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll reset your clock, if I live.”

He glared. “You have any idea how hard it is to set that alarm? The buttons stick.”

Joel hooted. “Guess you’ll have to find somebody to wake you up in the morning!”

The comment brought razzes and whistles. Shrugging them off, the host told Rachel to get moving or he’d declare her in default.

Russ tensed as she picked out a bike. “She should at least wear a helmet,” he told Derek.

“It’s dangerous to whack your head on the water in one of those,” the officer replied. “Might cause brain injury.”

“She’d have to take it off before she dove in,” Russ conceded.

“Then she’d lose.” That appeared to be the overriding consideration.

Too late to intervene, anyway. Torn between excitement and apprehension, Russ watched as Rachel’s athletic body set off, pedaling like mad around the concrete. Excellent coordination. Great balance, too, as she overcame a slight skid. The crowd fell silent.

His stomach clenched as she screeched to a halt on the lip and leaped off in the direction of the water. Then something went wrong.

Her foot must have caught a piece of the bike, because she landed at an off angle, going so fast she hardly seemed aware that she was too close to one side. Or perhaps she just wasn’t willing to waste time correcting her position. The bike kept moving across the concrete until it hit a metal garbage can with an ear-splitting crash.

“Go left!” somebody shouted.

“You’re too close!” called another bystander.

Russ started around the pool, hoping to run interference. Too late. Obviously disoriented, Rachel smacked against the far corner of the pool and disappeared into the depths. A brief silence ensued.

“Twenty-one seconds!” Hale slapped his leg. “I’ll bet that record’s gonna stand.”