I could merely stand there and watch, amazed that Jagger could work the damn thing, along with amazed at what Pansy did on the thing.
Jagger motioned for me to follow him, so I figured our search here had been futile-and we weren’t going to play Tarzan and Jane.
On the way out, the lounge chair (which was what I was calling it although tiger stripes and vibration did not exactly say La-Z-Boy) caught my eye.
It did look rather comfortable, yet there were no arms to it. One could easily straddle…Whoops. Better not go there.
For some reason, I walked toward it though, pressed the on button and stepped back.
The top flew open, revealing a stack of papers.
I looked at Jagger.
Jagger looked back at me.
And the papers sat there begging to be read.
Fourteen
It seemed like hours passed while Jagger and I stared at each other and then at the papers sitting inside the sex chair, which is what I now called it in my mind. Had to be, I thought, looking around this room.
Apparently Jagger pulled his thoughts to the present sooner than I; he stepped forward and knelt near the chair.
Whoa.
Be still my heart and hormones.
I swallowed, mentally chastised myself, relived kissing ER Dano for a few nanoseconds (reminding myself we had a date, a real date, in two days) and bent down next to Jagger. My joints would kill me if I stayed this way too long, so I joined him on the floor, totally ignoring how our shoulders touched or our knees brushed each other’s. Totally.
Although I had these sensual feelings being so near a hot guy, I told myself that Jagger and I were really only coworkers. Right now, ER Dano was a front-runner.
“Anything?” I whispered.
He seemed engrossed in a paper that he’d taken off the top of the pile. It appeared as if it had been thrown into the chair without being tucked inside one of the many folders.
“TLC carried dead bodies,” Jagger said.
I raised my eyebrows. Probably looking like a curious kid, I said, “They can’t. They can’t carry dead bodies.”
Jagger looked at me. Was that an “are you stupid” kinda look? I studied him a few seconds to make up my mind, but he saved me the time when he said, “You’re absolutely right, Sherlock, but look at this.” He held out the paper toward me.
Thankful it wasn’t an insulting look, I shined my flashlight onto the paper. “Oh, my goodness. They carried dead bodies.”
“Many times.”
I looked at Jagger. “Why would an undertaker call an ambulance instead of transporting the dead body themselves?”
Jagger gave me a kinda “psychiatrist” look. That was a look that said, “What do you think?” much like a shrink would do to get the patient to talk on and on until they cured themselves.
I paused to think. Why the hell…
“Well,” I said, “if they were too busy. That’s it! They must have had calls simultaneously, and if TLC didn’t get their bodies for them, they’d lose that customer to a competitor. There are only three funeral homes in Hope Valley, so the competition is pretty fierce.” I sat back on my heels and noticed Jagger smile in the dim lighting.
My heart danced in my chest.
“So, TLC made extra money. But what about the EMT and paramedics? They had to be involved-”
Jagger handed me a stack of papers from the folder on top. “Check out the names.”
I flipped through the fraudulent papers, noticing the same four names over and over.
“These are all fake names.”
Jagger pulled up to the drive-in window at Dunkin Donuts and once again ordered for both of us without asking. I couldn’t even complain, because tonight was a Boston Cream kinda night. I needed the chocolate-and he knew it.
Once he handed me my order, he drove us to the back, the spot where we always parked-where no one would pay much attention to us-pulled in and shut off the motor.
He took a sip of his black coffee. “You’re sure none of those names struck a chord with you?”
“Did they with you?” I bit down on my donut. Cream shot out the other end, landing on Jagger’s dashboard. “Whoops. Sorry.” I wiped at it, furious that it was all wasted. I really needed sugar and chocolate.
“Nope.”
“Well, we’ve both worked at TLC the same amount of time and both of us are attuned to noticing things-”
He turned to me.
“Shut up. We both are. You just have more experience than me.” I finished off my donut before I aimed the rest of the cream at him.
Licking my fingers, I watched him take a few sips of his coffee and then set the cup in the holder. “Damn it,” he said. “We have to get to Pansy before she leaves this world.”
My body shivered at the thought. “True,” I said, “but whoever killed Payne and stabbed her might also be trying to get to her.”
“Is trying to get to her. Is trying,” Jagger corrected. He cleared his throat and looked as if he were debating whether to tell me something.
“What?”
“Hmm?”
“Come on, Jagger. Spill. You know more.”
“A few hours ago, one of the cops sitting guard outside of Pansy’s room was hit from behind-”
“Shit!”
“Yeah. He wasn’t knocked out completely and before whoever the culprit was could finish the job, an orderly came off the elevator.”
“Did they see anything? Anyone?” I moved closer and leaned toward him as if that would pull words out of Jagger’s mouth. “Huh?”
“Naw. The attacker disappeared so fast, neither the injured guard nor the orderly could even say if it was a man or woman. All they agreed upon was the color of the scrubs.”
“What color?”
He looked at me and said, “Blue.”
I really didn’t relish dealing with a murderer. This fraud stuff was bad enough, but it seemed the stakes grew higher and higher in each of my cases. Evidently greed led to more than just stealing.
It led to murder.
Yikes.
“I’d think a woman might have to smack a guy’s head a few times to knock him out.” I looked at Jagger-wanting agreement.
He shook his head. “Feminists would smack you for that one, but you might have a point.”
I was considering the word “might” as agreement. “Yeah. Hey, what do you think of Sky?”
Jagger’s eyebrows grew together.
“Oh, stop that. Yeah, he’s a hunk, but I’m talking suspect here. I found him in Payne’s office after the stabbing.”
“What do you think?”
I wanted to curse at him, but this was Investigation 101, Jagger style. “I’d be surprised, since he seems like such a great guy, but that doesn’t discount him. Then again, what would his motive be?”
Jagger merely looked at me.
“Right. We don’t have any. But it might be worth looking into.”
He didn’t nod, smile or concur. That, in Jagger-ese, was affirmation enough for me.
“You get any more of those phone messages?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Maybe the caller stopped so they wouldn’t get caught.”
Jagger just sipped his coffee.
We finished our drinks and donuts and Jagger started the engine. I looked at my watch and wanted to say I was tired and had to get up early to do my ride along tomorrow during orientation, but knew he was correct.
No time like the present to beat the “Angel of Death.”
“We’ll stop by your place to change,” Jagger said as we headed south out of the Dunkin Donuts parking lot.
“Change?” I looked at myself all in black and thought, not only did I look perfect for spying, but hot too. Okay, that was my opinion.
“We can’t go walking around the hospital like this, Sherlock.”