Sugarplums and Scandal Read online

  “Please buzz me up, Lenny. I’m the one who is going to help you get your teeth before Christmas.”

  Buzz. Buzz.

  Thank you Saint T.

  When I got to the front door of Lenny’s place, I juggled my sub and bottle of water and managed to knock on the door.

  It opened slightly and Lenny poked his head out—which landed smack at my chest level.

  Oh, Geez.

  “Hey, Lenny.”

  He stared at me a few minutes. If he mentioned his fixed income, I was going to bop him on the head with my water bottle.

  Slowly the door opened. “Hi, Miss Sokow. Are you working for Dr. Santana?”

  Suddenly Leonard Niski sounded like a genius. I figured maybe he was one of those savants who was a whiz at math but everyday life kinda escaped him. Or, he was a typical sweet old Polish guy who eeked out a living and got ripped off along the way.

  “Yeah, Len, I’m working for the doc. Are you hungry?” I made myself at home and walked into the kitchen section of his tiny place. When I went to the table and pulled out the chair, a fat black cat sprung up and flew past me. “Oh!”

  “Midnight Clear. She’s very particular,” Lenny said, sitting down next to me.

  About what? I wondered, but didn’t really want to know. “Do you want some of my turkey sub? There’s plenty.”

  He eyed the sandwich but shook his head. Poor guy was probably thinking it’d be hard to chew.

  “I think the bread is very soft.” I ripped off a piece of the sandwich and held it out toward him.

  Lenny gingerly took the sub as if it were some poisonous snake. Then he fiddled with it, trying to chew on the right side—without luck—then the left. I stared down at my own food so I didn’t have to watch the painful sight of Leonard Niski trying to eat sans his front teeth. Actually, from what I could see, he was missing more than just the front ones. Maybe about five in a row.

  “So, tell me, Lenny, how long ago did you pay for your teeth?”

  With a piece of bread poking out through the gapping opening, he managed to say, “Thwee months.”

  Wow. “Okay. You know, I am working just this week at Dr. Santana’s office to see what I can find out. I have to tell you, though, all the patients I’ve seen today seem very happy with him.”

  “Hot cwider and donuts will do that to you.”

  “I’m not sure that menu would take away the fact that I thought my dentist was a crook, Len. I’d be more cautious and suspicious and not act as if he were a real-life Santa Claus.”

  Lenny merely stared at me.

  For a few minutes we ate in silence. I figured he had enough to do to get his lunch masticated, and I could observe dear Lenny in the interim.

  He chewed and nibbled as best he could, but what started to bother me was that Lenny kept looking to his right side as if someone were there.

  “Midnight Clear is in the living room,” I said. “I can see her off to the left curled up on that brown stuffed chair.”

  Lenny looked at me as if I was an idiot savant only minus the savant part. “Who cares?”

  Oops. “Well… I thought you were looking for her. Never mind.” I shut up and went back to observing.

  Again Lenny looked to the right and this time mumbled something. Great. Either my star client was talking to himself or he really saw someone there.

  Suddenly Leonard Niski was not a reliable font of information who could help his own case.

  What the hell? “Len, are you sure you ordered teeth from Dr. Santana?”

  His eyes darkened. His forehead wrinkled. His lips curled.

  I held on to the table but looked across the room in case an emergency exit was needed—fast.

  “You read about it in the newspaper, Ms. Sokol.”

  ———

  Once I’d excused myself from my lunch “date,” I hurried out and into my car, where I promptly called Jagger and left a message that I thought one Leonard Niski might be missing a bit more than just teeth.

  When I got back to the office, I sat at my desk and pulled the Niski chart out.

  Sure enough, Lenny was correct. He’d been measured and fitted for a dental bridge—which would surely help him eat much better than he could now. So it was true. I fiddled through the pages but part of the chart seemed to be missing!

  Great.

  Had someone been trying to cover up the fact that Lenny, in fact, had been ripped off? There was an insurance claim submitted and from what I could tell, the claim had been paid—to Dr. Elfin Santana.

  “Miss?”

  I looked up from Lenny’s chart to see Jagger as “Mr. Winters” standing at cleavage-viewing level. I leaned back and smiled. “You’re here again?”

  “The doc hadn’t finished, and I needed to go do something.”

  Mid teeth cleaning?

  “I’m back now,” he added.

  Yeah, to spy on me.

  Jagger could make a living disguising his voice. If I didn’t know him so well, and that pheromone thing and all, he probably would have fooled me again.

  “Oh. Fine.” I looked at the appointment book. “Someone penciled your name in.” That annoyed me since I wasn’t informed, and I was supposed to be the receptionist. Even in these fake jobs, I took my work seriously. If nothing else, Pauline Sokol was a damn good worker.

  “Mr. Winters” was staring at me.

  My insides suddenly warmed and knotted all at the same time. The anger started to well inside me. I was about to let him have it, when Jay popped his head out from the back.

  “Hey, Miss Holly,” Jay said. He laughed. “Send in Winters before the two o’clock filling shows up.”

  I took Winters’s chart, handed it to Jay, and whispered, “Even in this North Pole office, it’s Pauline.”

  Jay laughed.

  I joined him.

  And “Mr. Winters” looked pissed.

  Good.

  ———

  The afternoon got busier than this morning because it was after-school hours. Damn if the kids all didn’t look thrilled to be here, especially when each one walked out of the exam room carrying a little Christmas-wrapped gift.

  I had to shake my head at that.

  For some reason, I felt as if this case was not going to be the piece of cake that I thought earlier—more like fruitcake, with darling Lenny as the main ingredient.

  Jagger had once again mysteriously disappeared, and I half expected “Mr. Winters” or some other Jagger-disguised patient to pop in that afternoon. But he never came back.

  After I cleaned up my desk for the day and made sure the last patient had left, I grabbed my coat (the long gray one, to hide as much of my “outfit” as possible) and said goodbye to Jay, the doctor, and Mrs. Santana, who had a knack for popping in and out of the office all day.

  So she could assist in the crimes?

  Chapter 4

  I walked to my car in the parking lot, glad the snow had stopped and there was only a dusting on the ground. I hated to drive in the slippery mess. But as I looked around, I had to admit it was like a winter wonderland.

  The Santana dental practice was located in—what else?—a huge Victorian house, with sparkling windows of tiny white lights, snowcapped turrets, pink, violet, and mauve painted details, and a sign shaped like a Christmas tree that held Dr. Santana’s name.

  It was hard to believe this Christmas-addicted man was dishonest; however, I’d learned in this business that no one was squeaky clean—least of all the quiet, innocent-looking ones.

  When I stopped looking at the decor to stick my key in the lock, I felt someone come up behind me.

  Suddenly my body zoomed into heightened alert.

  Adrenaline shot through my system.

  Self-defense techniques surged through my brain.

  I held my keys with one sticking out of my fist in case I needed to shove them at my attacker’s eyes.

  Before I could touch the now unlocked door handle, someone grabbed my arm.

>   “No!” I swung around and held the keys toward… “Mr. Winter’s” face!

  “You!” I pulled my fist back and eased out of his hold. “Are you crazy?” My voice sounded surprisingly calm despite the fact that my gut felt as if I’d swallowed a gallon of barium and it stuck mid-stomach and, oops, I’d nearly gouged out Jagger’s eyes.

  He stood for a few seconds looking at me. And when I saw him grin, something snapped inside me. Without a thought, I reached up and took his face in my hands. Before he had a chance to pull back (thank God he didn’t) I stood on my tiptoes and planted a kiss on his lips!

  I was not sure who was more surprised, me or “Mr. Winters.” However, he hesitated, kissed a bit longer, then pulled back.

  “What the hell was that all about? You in the habit of kissing strangers? Don’t you know how dangerous that could be?”

  Now I grinned. Dangerous, yes, but remarkably so.

  I looked him in the eye. “Yes, I do, Jagger.”

  For several glorious minutes, Jagger was speechless.

  Finally he said, “Okay.”

  And I wanted to hug him.

  Ever the guy, though, he leaned closer and said, “Lesson one-o-one in self-defense. Never trust anyone and let your guard down like that again.” His lips came dangerously close to mine.

  My eyes widened. He sounded so lethal. Threatening. Sexy.

  And was he talking about my real safety… or the kiss?

  “It’s just… I… stop sneaking up on me. You do that on every damn case!” This time I steadied myself with the car door behind me.

  But Jagger looked so delicious and harmless—two qualities I realized I couldn’t trust in a guy.

  So I pulled my shoulders straight and held on to the door handle to keep my wits about me.

  Right then I felt less vulnerable.

  “That’s a hell of a lot better…” he said as he turned to leave, then over his shoulder said, “Sherlock.”

  ———

  Sherlock? Sherlock? Why did I melt when he called me that?

  It took several minutes for me to revive myself, then I started yelling at Jagger before he could make it to his SUV. Damn it. I was annoyed that he’d just given me a lesson in self-preservation—and he’d probably been at the office to make sure I was safe—and then the kiss and poof, he was gone.

  I tried to tell myself he had good intentions—about the making-sure-I-was-safe part.

  Across the parking lot, the lights of his SUV blinked on, the engine purred, and the vehicle soon zoomed past me—with Jagger looking straight at me.

  And damned if he wasn’t grinning.

  All the way home, I told myself that I was going to get even with him, knowing full well that that was probably wishful thinking. But there would come a day when I would pull one over on him—I’d start my novena tonight to make that happen in the upcoming new year—and not feel one iota of guilt for involving St. Theresa in my revenge scheme. She was probably used to it when it came to Jagger anyway.

  And I’d had a damn good start today when I’d taken him by surprise with my kiss.

  I was in such a festive, holiday mood.

  ———

  After I’d soaked in a tub of Goldie’s jasmine-scented bubble bath, I dressed in my jeans and a black long-sleeve T-shirt, stuck on my fluffy red slippers, decided to forgo any makeup, and headed to the kitchen.

  There was a note on the fridge from my roomies that they were off on a romantic dinner at the exclusive, expensive Madeline’s restaurant on the banks of the Connecticut River.

  I leaned against the door and sighed.

  Ain’t love grand?

  Ding. Dong.

  “Saved by the bell,” I said to Spanky, who was now barking like the proper five-pound attack dog that he should be.

  I almost said through the door, “Go away. I’m on a fixed income and can’t buy anything.”

  I swung open the door… and cursed.

  First, I cursed because Jagger stood there.

  Second, I cursed because earlier he’d thought I needed his protection and now had the nerve to stand there oh-so-lusciously nonchalant.

  And third, I cursed because I noticed my reflection in Miles’s gold-leaf trimmed mirror near the door. No makeup.

  ———

  Jagger had brought a pizza and six-pack of Coors in bottles. Half cheese, my favorite, and half mushroom and sausage for him. No call first. No are you hungry. No nothing.

  The perfect meal.

  After I took a few bites of pizza, having realized I was actually starving, I looked at Jagger. “Saw Lenny today on my lunch break.”

  “I know.” He took a sip of his beer and really didn’t have a smartass look on his face. More a normal Jagger look. Well, truthfully, sometimes the two were indistinguishable.

  “Why does that not surprise me?” I really didn’t want an answer so I continued, “He’s nuts, Jagger.”

  Jagger set his beer bottle down and wrinkled his forehead. “Come again?”

  Men that look like Jagger should not use those kinds of multi-use terms with women like me. I suppressed my teen mentality and said, “Yeah. He sees people that aren’t there. I stayed with him through lunch, and, unfortunately, I think he’s crazy.”

  “Well, you should know.”

  I slammed my pizza onto the plate sending a wad of cheese flying onto the floor. Spanky was there at the speed of light to gobble it up. I looked at Jagger. “He’ll probably have indigestion tonight because of you.”

  Suddenly Jagger smiled. It really was a genuine smile. Not a grin.

  As I said “What?” he touched my hand.

  “What I meant, Sherlock, was that if anyone could diagnose Lenny’s illness, it would be you with your nursing background and talent for noticing things with your sharp observational skills.”

  Christmas had come early to Pauline Sokol tonight. Against my saner judgment, I sighed.

  For a few seconds I remained still with Jagger’s touch, and then decided we only had a few days to get Lenny his teeth and, now I was guessing, some mental health care. So, I eased my arm free. “Thank… thank you.”

  Jagger nodded.

  “I looked in his chart, and it does confirm his teeth issues, but part of the chart is missing.”

  “Hmm. Interesting.” Jagger finished his piece of pizza, breaking up part of the crust and giving it to Spanky on the sly as if I couldn’t see.

  “He’s going to get fat,” I said.

  “Walk him more.”

  I had to laugh. What kind of guy remains so mysterious, sexy, smart, and still has a soft spot for a teeny, tiny dog? “I’m going to call a list of patients that I found today to see if all their work was done.”

  Jagger nodded and lifted the pizza box. When he took out one of my plain-cheese slices and chivalrously set it on my plate, I had to get out of the room—or the kitchen table would be used for something other than eating pizza.

  ———

  “Thank you so much, Mrs. Pinefield. And you have a wonderful Christmas too.” I set down the phone and looked up to see Jagger standing in the hallway, holding Spanky.

  “He looks as if he’s gained a pound already. Miles and Goldie are going to kill you.”

  Jagger merely sat down on the white sofa near me. “What did you find out?” Spanky curled up on Jagger’s lap.

  I rolled my eyes at the little traitor and said, “Well, seems as if our doc is not really Santa Claus after all. After making a few phone calls to patients, I smell fraud in about half of these cases. I guess only half are fraudulent, so it’s not too obvious and helps the doc not get caught. Or so he thought. The others all seem fine. All work done and accounted for.”

  Jagger rubbed his finger across Spanky’s little head. The damn dog purred like a cat.

  “Tomorrow when I go to work, I’m going to recheck their charts and compare what I learned from talking to the patients with what is written in their charts. That’ll tell me if the insuranc
e paid up. We may just have Santana in jail by the twenty-fifth.”

  Then I thought of his seven kids.

  Chapter 5

  After Jagger had helped clean up—what a guy—and left last night, I’d headed off to bed to get up bright and early for work and, in fact, made it in just in time for hot cider and a donut. I had actually started to like the stuff.

  I almost choked on a bite when I noticed Mrs. Santana, dressed to the holiday hilt, give the doc a big hug as he came into the reception area. “You are my Santa, Elfin. And the kids are so excited again this year. No one is a better father and makes this holiday so special as you.”

  I managed an “Excuse me” and hurried to the bathroom where I washed the cider and donut out of my mouth. Being in this environment, I did everything to avoid cavities. As I looked in the minor, I tried not to think of the touching scene I’d just witnessed.

  The man could be arrested by Christinas Day and those kids would be fatherless as they opened their presents.

  Tears formed in my eyes, but I sucked them back and told myself that crime is crime. No one is above the law. Sure it was a tough sentiment to swallow at this time of the year, but I did and promptly went out to resume my investigation.

  The reception area was filled with smiling, happy, laughing, and even singing patients, which made my intent to prove Dr. Santana a crook all the more difficult. But after I ushered them in to Jay, one by one, I stuck my nose in the five charts of the folks I’d talked to on the phone last night.

  Each and every one had been charged for work that they said was not done. All involved dentures too, which made proving this case much easier. To give the doc the benefit of the doubt, especially after his two youngest (twin boys) came in “just to see our daddy and have him ask Santa for a rocking horse,” I checked and rechecked several more charts until my vision blurred.

  Finally it was lunchtime. I closed up the reception area, declined a lunch offer from Jay (although I’d much rather have been eating with the “eye candy” instead of what I had to do), and hurried out to my car.

  After I got in the car, I called Jagger.

  “Hey.” Jagger’s voice, even on a cell phone, always had the power to cause a hitch in my breath.