Joanna Wayne - Justice for All

Mary Hancock stopped laughing and backed away from the bed. “Good morning, Callie. I promise I’m not tiring out the patient. I just came by to check on him and bring him a fruit basket.”

“A bit of cheery company won’t hurt him, as long as he doesn’t overdo it.”

Callie spied the fruit basket on the table in the corner of the room. It was covered in cellophane, tied with a gold bow and filled with mangos, avocados, peaches, kiwi and pomegranates, with an impressive pineapple in the middle. The basket was almost as colorful and flamboyant as the bearer.

Mary was one of Callie’s patients. At sixty-one, Mary could have easily passed for fifteen years younger. Money for surgery and the right clothes to flatter her petite figure probably took a lot of credit for that, but it was Mary’s vivacious personality that added the youthful pizzazz.

Callie pulled the chart at the foot of Bernie’s bed. His vitals were back to normal except for a slightly elevated systolic reading. “How are you feeling this morning, Mr. Brusco?”

“Terrific and ready to get out of the hospital. Like I told you, it was just stress. A good night’s rest did the trick.”

Bernie scooted up higher on his pillow, tugging on the hospital gown so that it didn’t pull around the neck. “Thanks for coming by, Mary. And don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine,” he said, dismissing his visitor.

“Good. When you’re feeling better, I’ll teach you to do the tango correctly.”

“With these two left feet?”

They both laughed and Mary said a quick goodbye to Callie before exiting. Mary was obviously fond of Bernie. Callie seriously doubted she knew how the man made his living or that he did drugs himself.

Courage Bay was a few miles and a world away from Los Angeles. In spite of a growing population, the city had a small-town attitude, and people tended to trust one another to be who and what they purported to be. She’d hate to see Mary hurt by a man like Bernie.

“Guess you have the results of the blood work,” Bernie said, once Mary was out of the room.

“Just got it back from the lab a few minutes ago.”

“Then you know I had a little cocaine in my system.”

She nodded.

“I hope you won’t get the wrong idea. It’s not like I’m an addict or anything. You know how it is up in Los Angeles. You go with the boys, you sniff a little to be sociable. I won’t even do that again after what happened last night.”

“You had cocaine, alcohol and dangerous levels of an illegal stimulant in your system. That’s a pretty lethal mix. You’re lucky to be alive this morning.”

Bernie narrowed his eyes. “What stimulant?”

A strange question, Callie thought. He’d readily admitted the cocaine, so why not the stimulant? “Ephedra,” she said. “A much larger dose than if you’d taken it as a dietary supplement.”

“Ephedra.” He repeated the word, then drew his lips together and nodded as if he were figuring out a mystery. “You’re sure about that?”

“Very sure. Don’t you remember taking it?”

“My recollection of last night’s activities are not too keen.”

That was believable, yet he remembered the party and the cocaine.

He sat up straighter. “You know, Doc, pretty as you are and as nice as the nurses are treating me, I need to get out of here today.”

“I recommend you stay until Monday.”

“Nothing personal, Doc, but I’ve got urgent business to take care of. I have to be back in Los Angeles by Monday morning.”

“Then at least stay one more night.”

He drew his lips into a slight scowl. “One more night, but that’s it, no matter what any new tests show.”

“It’s your choice.”

“Thanks, Doc. For last night and for looking in on me today.”

“You’re welcome, but I can only do so much. The real responsibility for taking care of yourself rests with you.”

“Don’t I Know it.”

She made a couple of notations on his chart, slipped it back in place, then told him she’d see him later.

“You’re sure about the ephedra?” he asked as she headed for the door.

“I’m sure.”

She hurried to the elevator, eager to go back to her office and call Max with the findings. She had no proof at all, but she had a strong hunch that Bernie didn’t knowingly take the ephedra. Which meant the Avenger may well have been at Mary’s party, armed with the stimulant that had almost killed Bernie Brusco.

MAX PICKED CALLIE UP in front of the hospital at ten after twelve, determined to have no recurrence of the lust that had blindsided him last night, lingering long after he’d crawled into his bed. No way could he play in Callie’s league. He probably couldn’t even get a job as bat boy.

“Have you had lunch?” Max asked, trying not to notice that she looked as ravishing in the pale gray slacks and the yellow cotton blouse as she had in the dynamite dress last night.

“I haven’t even had breakfast,” she said.

“Then we might as well eat while we talk, unless you’d rather not.”

“Lunch sounds good.”

“So where’s your preference?” Max asked.

“Somewhere outside. It’s much too gorgeous to be stuck indoors.”

“How about Grady’s?”

“Perfect.”

It would be if they were only going there to eat instead of to discuss a possible link to a vengeful killer who’d outsmarted Max at every turn. Grady’s was on the beach and had a large covered deck where patrons had a great view of the bay and could listen to the sounds of the surf. On most days there were enough surfers in the area to provide a side show as well.

Callie gave him the results of the lab report and Bernie’s reaction on the drive over. By the time the waitress showed them to a table in the back corner of the deck, possibilities were already streaming though his mind.

“So what’s your take on this?” Callie asked, once they’d put in their drink order and had been given a menu.

“I think your hunch could be right. Ephedra doesn’t seem the kind of drug a man like Bernie would mess around with, not with all the serious drugs he has at his disposal. Besides, kingpins like Bernie are rarely big-time users. They need to keep their minds clear to run the business.”

Which meant it was very possible someone at Mary Hancock’s party slipped the stimulant into his food or drink. If it was the Avenger, and if he was in fact at the party last night, this might be the best lead Max had had since the killing spree started.

“There are a lot more common and probably more effective substances a killer could have used,” Callie said. “What would make him choose something like ephedra?”

“Any number of reasons. Availability, personal experience, or he may have gotten the idea from the media attention surrounding the death of the high school student.”

“That makes sense,” Callie admitted.

“If you hadn’t been there and Bernie had died of the presenting symptoms, would his death have been classified a heart attack?”

“Quite possibly.”

The waitress returned with Max’s coffee and Callie’s raspberry iced tea. Max ordered a cheeseburger without even glancing at the menu. Callie decided on the fresh green salad topped with lump crab meat and avocado, dressing on the side.

Another glaring difference between them, Max noted. His taste buds were partial to the routine. Callie’s went for more sophisticated fare.

Callie rolled a finger over the condensation on her glass. “If Bernie thinks someone tried to kill him, surely he’ll go to the police.”

“I wouldn’t count on that. A guy like Bernie’s more likely to seek out his own revenge.” Just what Courage Bay and Max needed. An avenger out to get the Avenger. Sounded like a bad Hollywood script, and even thinking about it gave Max a headache.