Dead On Arrival

Ten

I was never a good liar, but standing out on my parents’ porch with ER Dano interrogating me in an almost threatening way, I decided I had to give it a shot. Lying that was. And, oh yeah, that sure was a threatening way.

“I got lost.” Even before the words came out, I heard myself scream inside my head, “Are you nuts? That’s the worse excuse I’ve ever heard, Pauline!” However, the stupid words still came out. And now I felt stupid.

And you didn’t want to feel stupid in front of Jagger or ER Dano.

Nope.

He took a step forward. I told myself, as I backed up, that it was his way of intimidating me and I shouldn’t let him. My butt touched the railing. Nowhere else to go but leap over. And that I couldn’t do, or I really would feel like a fool when I landed on my butt in Mom’s hydrangeas. Besides, I had to stand up to Dano or forever face his chauvinistic attitude.

“You got lost?” His tone was almost sympathetic now-as if he thought I was some moron.

Moron? Well!

“Yeah,” I said and pushed past him, with every fiber of my being trying not to notice that I’d touched his chest. Solid, rock-hard, works-out-four-or-five-times-per-week chest, by my best guess. Geez. I had to find a guy soon.

Dano turned and followed me, getting closer and closer until his hand was on my arm. Not as if he grabbed me. Nope. More as if he just wanted to touch me. I looked up into his darkened eyes.

Touch away, buddy.

In seconds I reminded myself that I was a professional and pulled back. “Excuse me? Excuse me?” Not sure even what I meant, I looked to see him just as confused.

“Why? What did you do, Nightingale?”

I faltered. The damn nickname. Then I pulled my shoulders straight and gathered up every ounce of hormone-free sanity that I could muster. “I didn’t do anything.” This time I pushed him enough to get myself to the other side of the porch. “Nothing. I got lost and you sound as if I did something…something wrong. And don’t touch me like that.” Okay, that last bit was overkill, but I knew if he touched me I might crumble.

Now, mind you, I was not some namby-pamby weak female. Nope. But any female would crumble around a tower of testosterone like ER-and she’d probably love it.

Suddenly ER Dano was no longer appearing as a threat.

Damn it. Nope. Now he stood a few feet away, looking oh-so-handsome and delicious in the moon’s glow. How romantic. The only thing was, Dano might be a criminal, a liar and…a killer.

Naw.

My gut was denying all of that as nonsense, and I had to mentally agree. So, I took a step forward and said, “If you’re so burned out on your job as a paramedic, why stick around TLC?” I needed to get to know him, spend some time around him-okay, make time with him. Yum.

Even he looked surprised at my candor-which, by the way, came out sounding very professional and intelligent.

At first he paused for a few uncomfortable moments.

To think of a lie?

Then he stepped closer and took both of my arms into his hands. “Good question, Nightingale. As I said, my bucket has holes in it.”

“Hmm?” His sincere tone had me speechless.

“You know. My bucket of all the crap that I see, have to deal with and have to do something about. It has holes. As each day’s work filters out, it’s inevitably replaced-and often with things that are much worse.”

ER Dano’s eyes darkened more and tears formed-which had to be killing him to keep from flowing.

My old nurse’s nurturing nature kicked in-as usual against my will-and before I could think logically, my nursing nature had me turning the tide, and now I was holding ER Dano in my arms.

At first he tensed. A sympathetic guy. Wasn’t that an oxymoron? One thing about Dano I was certain, he never wanted anyone’s help. The guy was a powerhouse of self-investment. Clearly he didn’t want to feel beholden to anyone or as if he needed anyone.

He appeared so strong, and yet, I’d bet my paycheck (much-needed paycheck) that he had a teeny, tiny streak of softness in him.

I wondered what Dano’s past relationships were like because I surmised that he definitely didn’t want to be leaning on a woman.

But I held him closer.

His warm breath breezed across my neck. Ah. Suddenly I thought it might be hard to comfort him-if my damn mind couldn’t keep this Platonic?…His lips were on mine and the word no longer had any meaning. Pla…what?

Dano’s mouth covered mine. I sighed.

Then he eased his arms around me. I felt secure in his hold, and leaned into him. Oh, my.

I sighed.

When I reminded myself that I was on Stella Sokol’s porch, I snuck a peek past Dano’s shoulder. Good. No one. No one was in the doorway, in the window or within listening distance.

So, I stretched up and returned Dano’s kiss.

Oh, my was right.

Dano’s hand ran down my back and a hitch in my breath filled the air. Not caring if anyone hurried outside to find out what the hell that noise was, I ran kisses along his cheek while running my hands through his hair.

“You smell good, Nightingale.” His voice was rough in an ER Dano sort of way, but an underlying tenderness, sensuality, in fact, made my knees weak.

I couldn’t think of the words to express my appreciation of the comment. I was way too busy.

And it’d been way too long since I’d been kissed like this. Jagger’s kisses had been specifically Jagger kisses-wonderful, delicious, confusing and mysterious. And not that I’d trade them for these, but right now, ER Dano’s said reality.

And I sure as hell wanted/needed reality.

“We should go inside.” ER Dano eased back from me, and I walked in a semi-trance into my mother’s house.

The guy had class and concern. I’m sure he didn’t want to take advantage of me out on my parents’ porch-no matter that I wanted him to! Hey, Stella Sokol would probably celebrate that her only single daughter was getting some. Getting some? Surely my mother would not use that phrase, but then again, she did change all my undies to thongs once when I was out of town working a case.

We nonchalantly walked back into the dining room, me with Dano’s hand on the small of my back.

Everyone in the room stared at me with that look of “Pauline just had sex” on their faces.

Or so I imagined.

Actually, only my mother had that look, and I wasn’t sure if she was internally applauding me (her thirty-something, only single offspring) or giving me the evil eye-igniting my Catholic school-induced conscience.

“What’s for dessert, Ma?” I asked, using the nickname she hated, then feeling like a jerk for using it, since everyone glared at me.

“We had chocolate cake before, Pauline,” my mother said in a very condescending tone.

I was about to argue-okay, with nothing to argue about-but smiled weakly instead, and ER Dano stepped forward. “I have to rush off now. Fantastic meal, Mrs. S. Thanks so much for including us.” ER Dano poked Buzz on the shoulder, who must have been on his fourth piece of cake, and walked toward the front door, mumbling his thanks with Lilla right behind.

I leaned against the doorjamb watching them go for a second, then remembered who the heck I was, ran back to my chair and grabbed my purse, blew a kiss to my mom and followed them.

“Good night, Daddy,” I yelled, passing the living room.

Once outside, Dano gave Buzz a dirty look when he followed suit. So after Buzz said ’bye to me and went to his car, and Lilla left in hers, Dano turned to me and said, “Dinner tomorrow night. Around seven. After the memorial service and get-together at Pansy’s place.”

My jaw dropped but I managed a nod, not sure if the idea that he’d kinda ordered me on a date with him was so shocking, or if I was thinking about how the memorial service would be a great time for me to snoop at Pansy’s place.

Next morning, I opened the front door of my condo and nearly passed out.

Now I knew what the term swooned meant.

Jagger stood there in a black suit-a classy one that said Armani, though I was no fashionista to be able to tell the difference. He looked more like we were heading to some fancy-schmancy restaurant for a candlelit dinner than a memorial service.

He looked that delicious.

And what really made my day was how he looked at me. As if I were a tasty morsel too. Not that I was aiming for sexy at a memorial service, but the only little black dress that I owned was a slinky Jones New York with three-quarter-length sleeves and a V-neck that allowed a sampling of cleavage.

I did look tasty.

Jagger stood there for a second, brushed past me and said, “Ready?”

I smiled. “I’m ready, and the car is that way.” I pointed behind him.

Without a word, he walked toward the kitchen. “Any more phone messages?”

Damn. I’d nearly forgotten it. “No. Maybe that was just a fluke. Someone playing a joke.”

“Murderers don’t joke, Pauline.”

“Gee. Thanks for that.” I followed him into the kitchen, where I found him petting Spanky.

I think Jagger actually looked forward to seeing the dog. Maybe Spanky was the only thing that could ground Jagger in reality. Give him a sense of family. Pets were amazing.

“We need to go, or we’ll be late.”

He patted Spanky on the head, turned and walked past me again. As I followed him out to his SUV, I thought of what an odd scene that had just been.

Jagger had seemed so down to earth. So un-Jaggerlike.

Maybe he was softening.

Jagger pulled his Suburban into a space in TLC’s parking lot, which was full since, I figured, all the employees were there to pay their respects. Coincidentally, the funeral home was just across the street, so parking at TLC was logical, since there was a get-together at Pansy’s after the service. No trip to the cemetery, thank goodness, since Payne had been cremated.

Jagger took me by the elbow and guided me across the busy intersection. Waiting outside the door was ER Dano, who looked as if he cared that Jagger held my elbow.

Two guys showing interest in me. Two!

What a great feeling, I told myself as I walked under the green-canopied entryway. “Morning,” I said, smiling slightly since I didn’t want to seem jovial at such a solemn event.

Dano nodded.

Jagger tightened his hold.

And I raised one eyebrow, moved away from both of them and walked inside, where I found Lilla, who had saved us a few seats.

I nodded to her, tried to ignore the huge cutout of Payne and sat directly in front of Sky and Mario. Buzz was on the other side of Lilla, sitting, I thought, much closer than necessary. Cute. Talk about opposites attracting.

Maybe he was vying for slot number five in the Lilla Marcel wedding bliss department.

I had to smile to myself, because that was not a bad idea. Buzz-geez, now I was calling him that and had to remind myself that his real name was Jeremy-might be just what Lilla needed for happiness, even though he was a few years younger.

She leaned toward me. “Isn’t that cardboard thing eerie?”

I wanted to say, “You should have seen it in Pansy’s office when I was snooping,” but remembered Jagger’s sage advice that one never knew whose ears were tuned into you and would hear stuff about your case. I nodded as a man I assumed was the minister took the podium, and performed the ceremony.

After several people had gotten up and spoken kind words about Payne-and most of the staff seemed to raise an eyebrow or shake a head at the falsehoods-Sky guided Pansy up to the front. She looked at her cardboard brother and then at the crowd. No tears, I noticed, but her face darkened to a deep crimson color.

Then she glared and pointed at Payne’s image and began cursing like a sailor.

Between the gasps of the mourners and the high pitch of her voice, the place took on a creepy, almost surreal atmosphere.

Pansy accused her brother of just about everything under the sun except the fraud, although she alluded to his “unhealthy business practices.” Then she looked above all of our heads and offered a halfhearted apology of some sorts.

I could barely make sense of her rambling, but Sky and ER Dano finally got up and took her back to her chair. Before she sat, she turned to us and yelled, “Everyone come to my place after this fiasco and celebrate!” Then she seemed to catch herself and added, “His life. Celebrate my brother Payne’s life.” In a very unflattering, unbelievable tone she said, “He would have wanted that.”

She pushed Sky’s arm from hers, nearly knocked ER Dano down in her haste, and hurried from the room.

The two guys stood speechless, the minister cleared his throat over and over, and the crowd hushed. Jagger got up, took my arm and led me toward the door, which got everyone else moving.

“Wow,” I murmured.

Jagger looked at me and shook his head-this time not at me though. “Just shows you that it takes all kinds.”

“How prophetic,” I said and this time his hand was on my lower back, so I immediately felt safe and could care less about Pansy’s nutty eulogy.

Okay, I’d relive her whacko words over and over to see if it would help my case-but later. I mean, Jagger’s hand was on my back.

We crossed the street followed by the crowd of mourners, who were now laughing and chatting about Pansy-and, I might add, agreeing with everything she’d said.

“Seems as if finding Payne’s murderer is going to be difficult if one considers motive,” I said.

Jagger looked at me. “Sure is. Feels like a mob mentality. And they are all in agreement.”

“Well, maybe Pansy will now have a staff of dedicated workers. She certainly didn’t need to convince them of anything.” I stopped and took Jagger’s arm. “Hey, you think she did that on purpose?”

“Did what?”

“You know. Said those horrible things about her brother because, one, she knew how they all felt. Two, she figured she’d earn their undying loyalty, since her brother isn’t coming back. And three, she’s a damn good actress, or maybe she killed her own brother!”

Jagger looked at me for a few seconds while the others got closer. He leaned near and said, “Hmm. I hadn’t thought of that.”

I slugged his arm. “You’re full of shit.”

I knew that I never would think of anything case-related before Jagger did, but I was thrilled and proud of myself for thinking of something that he already had.

Baby steps. Baby steps to a successful career as an investigator.

Before anyone walked past us, Jagger led me to the front door, which was opened as if Pansy was welcoming everyone into her home for a real celebration.

“Pansy,” I called out, while Jagger nudged me inside.

We walked through the beautiful Tudor-style entryway and on into the living room-and Jagger grabbed my arm, which was a good thing. Because when I looked at the scene before us, my screaming kept me from rushing forward to do something about it-or passing out and breaking something important.