Diagnosis: Danger Page 9

  Good enough for her, Natalya thought.

  “This won’t take long,” she promised, circumventing the woman’s desk.

  The latter was on her feet instantly, dismay and disbelief both stamped on her smooth face. “But you can’t—”

  Natalya shot her a cold smile. This was for Clancy. “Oh, but I can,” she countered, opening the door. Tolliver, clad in gray, was standing behind his desk. “Mr. Tolliver, you have Clancy Donovan’s body—”

  She stopped abruptly as she saw the person Tolliver had been talking with turn around.

  Mike.

  The surprise on his face came and went in less than a heartbeat, to be replaced by tolerant amusement as he nodded toward her. “Dr. Pulaski.”

  Formal. He was being formal. Was this his way of indicating that they were going to be polite strangers by design, or was this for Tolliver’s benefit?

  Life, she thought, would definitely be a whole lot simpler if she were a single-cell creature, not given to thought.

  Now that she had a moment to get her bearings, Natalya noticed that Tolliver looked decidedly uncomfortable. Because of her? Or because of what Mike was asking him? Either way, she’d stake her life that there was guilt involved.

  “Detective DiPalma,” she acknowledged. She kept her voice as pleasant and noncommittal as possible. “Nice to see you again.”

  “Mr. Tolliver,” the receptionist cried. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t keep her out.”

  “No,” Natalya said, getting in the man’s face. “She couldn’t. Would you mind telling me why Clancy is here instead of the mortuary that I selected?”

  Tolliver haughtily drew himself up. Straightening his shoulders made him look even thinner than he already did. “I thought, under the circumstances, giving him a decent burial was the only upstanding thing to do. I wasn’t aware of any other mortuary being involved.”

  The man wouldn’t know “upstanding” if it ran him over, she thought angrily. And she wasn’t buying into his “decent thing to do” act for a second.

  “And this is all at your expense.” She couldn’t keep the mocking tone out of her voice.

  There was suppressed anger in Tolliver’s eyes, but he managed to keep it under a lid. Instead, he spread his hands out, the personification of innocence. “Since no one else came forward—”

  There was definitely something going on here, she thought. Something more than she could put her finger on right now. But she wasn’t about to be fooled, or intimidated, if that was Tolliver’s goal.

  Her eyes narrowed. She never liked being dismissed or ignored. “I came forward, Mr. Tolliver.”

  There was frost in his reply. It was obvious that, since she was a friend of Clancy’s, he disliked her by association. “I wasn’t informed of that.”

  She half expected Mike to intervene. When he didn’t, she assumed he thought she could fight her own battles. She could and she did. “I left word with the coroner’s office that I was to be notified once they were satisfied with their autopsy.”

  There was condescension hanging on every syllable. “There must have been some confusion,” Tolliver replied. It was easy to see that he couldn’t care less about her part in this, or about the body he’d offered to bury. Which, Mike thought, observing, went along with what the man had told him earlier. He wasn’t sure yet if he was buying what Tolliver was selling.

  “We do excellent work here,” Tolliver assured Natalya.

  They cut corners here, according to Clancy. And she believed him before she believed the two-dimensional man standing before her.

  “Sorry, I’ve already made arrangements with another mortuary. They’ll be here shortly.” She had called the funeral parlor on her way over here, not wanting to waste any time. The receptionist assured her that the car would be there to pick up “the deceased” within the hour.

  It was still hard for her to think of Clancy that way. And having to deal with this reptile in an expensive suit didn’t help any.

  A small sigh of exasperation escaped Tolliver’s lips. He inclined his head. “As you wish.” Then, as if Natalya didn’t even exist, he turned his eyes toward Mike. “Are we done here, Detective?”

  He’d gotten a few answers he wanted to explore. “Yes. For now,” Mike qualified. The fact that Tolliver shifted ever so slightly and looked uncomfortable with the addition of the second sentence was not lost on him.

  Mike looked at Natalya. There was fire in her eyes. No matter what he tried to tell himself to the contrary, the woman was magnificent. He’d wanted to call her the morning following the Central Park homicide that had taken him away from her. But the very fact that he wanted to call her as much as he did had kept him from doing it. The intensity of his desire unnerved him and put him on his guard. He thought some space might put things in perspective.

  But, looking at her now, he realized that he’d been wrong. Space did nothing but increase the longing. Out of sight, out of mind definitely did not apply here.

  “I’ll walk you out,” he offered, joining her. “Unless you have something else you want to say to Mr. Tolliver.”

  There was a lot she wanted to say to Tolliver, but she doubted that any of it would make an impression. Better not to waste words. The only thing the man understood was money. The best she could do was find out who had originally authorized that Ellis Brothers take care of burial arrangements for the city’s nameless dead and see what could be done about transferring that business somewhere else.

  “No,” she replied, turning on her heel.

  “Wait, you’re walking too fast,” Mike called after her as he lengthened his stride. “In a hurry to get somewhere?” he wanted to know.

  She didn’t bother turning around, not wanting to see Tolliver again. “Just out of here, for one.”

  “And for two?” Mike asked when she didn’t follow up her statement.

  Natalya pressed her lips together. She didn’t answer. Even though she wanted to know why he hadn’t called, she couldn’t ask. Instead, she focused on why he’d come to see Tolliver in the first place.

  They walked down the short corridor to the front door. The mist outside appeared to be gone, after having left its mark on the glass doors.

  “I was beginning to think that you weren’t going to question Tolliver.”

  He’d spent the last half hour questioning the man, tendering questions as subtly as he could so as not to alarm the director. He didn’t know if he linked Tolliver with the murder, but he knew he didn’t like him, period. Mike made a mental note to check out the man’s alibi. The funeral director had said that he’d spent the evening sitting with the Wallace family, predominantly comforting Wallace’s bereaved widow.

  “You had an interesting theory,” Mike reminded her.

  Natalya could feel the excitement taking hold, pouring through her veins. “And?”

  But Mike was already shaking his head. “So far, Tolliver’s books are above reproach. He’s filed his taxes on time and we’ve checked out all the grave sites that were mentioned.” An utterly ghoulish thing to do, he thought. “There are graves for every single body Ellis Brothers charged the city for.”

  There had to be something. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Tolliver was behind all this. “How deep did you dig?”

  “Deep.” He saw disappointment warring with eternal optimism in her eyes. He supposed she needed that to be a successful doctor, a way to battle the hopelessness. He smiled at her. “Don’t worry, if Tolliver is responsible, we’ll get him.”

  Was he just patronizing her? “How?”

  That was the million-dollar question. One for which he had no answer. But he would. “The law moves in mysterious ways, Doc.”

  “That’s the Lord,” she corrected. “The Lord moves in mysterious ways.” For a second, he’d actually had her going.

  About to say something, she stopped. The look in his eyes was impossible to fathom. All she knew was that he wasn’t putting her on. Or putting her off, either. Maybe there
was reason to hope.

  Running into her like this had his hormones revving up. If he didn’t know better, he would have said he was fifteen. What he did know was that he didn’t want to just walk away from her now that fate had thrown them together again.

  “Can I give you a lift somewhere? I still owe you dinner.”

  Could he do that, just pick up and do what he wanted? “Aren’t you on duty?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve been off duty for the last hour.”

  She was confused. Natalya looked over her shoulder at the awning of the building they had just left. “But you were in there, questioning Tolliver.” She stopped, the answer dawning on her. “You were questioning him on your own time?”

  The other case was taking priority, but he felt he owed it to her. Bottom line was that he hated letting anyone get away with murder. “City’s cutting back on overtime and there is only so much I can do during regular hours.”

  “That homicide you were called away takes precedence?” she guessed.

  He wanted her to understand that it just wasn’t a whim. “Third homeless person slaughtered in two months. The captain put a priority on it.”

  Homeless people. Obviously no rich, fat-cat relatives with political clout were putting the screws to the department to solve the crimes. It heartened her to know that about the city she lived in. Despite what this meant to Clancy’s unsolved murder, she smiled, nodding. “Sounds like a nice man, your captain.”

  Mike laughed to himself. “You’d be the first to think so. Captain Sorenson’s a tough son of a bitch. I don’t think he ever goes home except to change clothes. Otherwise, he lives in the office.”

  They were walking around to the back of the building, where the mortuary had its small parking lot. More parking was provided two blocks down but Mike’s motorcycle required a minimum of space.

  “I take it he’s not married,” Natalya guessed.

  “Not anymore. Marriage and the department is a tough combination.”

  “Don’t say that.” The request was only half-teasing. “My sister’s marrying one of your own next month.”

  “There’re exceptions,” Mike allowed. He knew, if he ever finally settled down, nothing that crossed his path would be allowed to come home with him. The kinds of things he saw on the job had no place in his private life. He stopped by his motorcycle. “So, how about it? Are you up for dinner?”

  She wanted to. God, but she wanted to. Wanted to spend some time with this good-looking detective that God and, indirectly, Clancy, kept throwing her way. But not tonight. Not unless she was completely irresponsible. And those days were behind her.

  With deep regret, Natalya looked at her watch, hoping against hope that time had somehow magically stood still and was affording her an island upon which to indulge herself.

  No such luck. She was already running late. Sasha was going to have her head on a platter—not to mention what Mama would say.

  She looked up at him ruefully. “Only if it comes in a bag to go.”

  He was trying to read between the lines. “You’re in the mood for a picnic?”

  She laughed. “Not in November. I’m late for my fitting. It’s the maid-of-honor dress,” she explained. “My sister Sasha’s wedding.”

  The ob-gyn, he remembered. “Right, to the police detective.”

  “Right.” The impulse came out of nowhere, roaring down the middle of her life. Why not? “Would you like to come?”

  She certainly wasn’t the easiest woman to follow, he decided. “To the fitting?”

  He’d be bored out of his mind. And Mama would pounce on him. “No, to the wedding.”

  Was she asking him as her date? Or just throwing the doors open to a big family celebration as her way of thanking him for his interest in her friend? He knew it was the kind of thing his family would do, but Italians didn’t have a lock on rampaging hospitality.

  He considered refusing for a second. After all, he wouldn’t know anyone but her and he normally steered clear of weddings unless he was roped into standing up for the groom.

  But there was something about her eyes…

  Hell, why not? “Sure. When is it?” She gave him the date, which was a little over three weeks away. He never scheduled things that far in advance. “Barring another homicide, I’m free.”

  “Good, I’ll call and give you details later.”

  “Details?” Was this going to get complicated? He wasn’t sure if he wanted it to or not. Wasn’t sure of anything, really, except that he could have stood and basked in her pleased expression all night.

  “Where, when, things like that.” She looked at him intently, raising the collar of her coat again. The cold was beginning to get to her. “But right now, I’m going to have to get going.”

  “Where is this maid-of-honor dress place?”

  His phrasing had her smile widening. She liked him. Liked him a lot. Natalya rattled off an address in Queens. The woman who ran the shop had come over on the boat with her parents and they had struck up a friendship, giving each other support during the very lean years. Periodically Mama had tried to match each one of them up with the woman’s less than cheerful son, Peter. Mercifully, Papa had finally made her see that Peter would not have been a good addition to the family.

  Mike straddled his bike, then held out a helmet for her. “Hop on.”

  She took the helmet and slipped it on, fastening the strap. Her skirt had to be hiked up somewhat before she could get on the bike behind him. She caught him watching appreciatively.

  “Fringe benefit,” he told her before he turned to face forward.

  She slipped her arms around his waist. It occurred to her that she liked the sensation that passed through her. “Let’s go.”

  The words were barely out of her mouth before they were flying down the street.

  Chapter 9

  “And who was that?”

  Natalya nearly jumped out of her skin. She hadn’t realized that her mother was anywhere in the vicinity when Mike dropped her off at the bridal shop entrance. Looking back, she should have known better. Her mother always managed to materialize out of thin air. When they were little girls, she and Sasha had been convinced that Magda Pulaski had magical powers.

  Turning around, she realized too late that she was still smiling as she looked at the petite woman standing with the door half-ajar. “That was the police detective investigating Clancy’s murder.”

  Magda Pulaski came forward and squinted as she focused intently on the figure that was becoming little more than a dark silhouette as he disappeared down the street.

  “Do all investigating police detectives giving rides to the friends of the dead person?” she asked her daughter innocently.

  “‘Give,’ Mama, do all investigating police detectives ‘give’ rides to the friends of—” With a sigh, Natalya gave up trying to fix the sentence. “The answer is no, Mama. They don’t.”

  A knowing expression feathered across her face. “Ah.”

  Natalya held the door open for her mother as she entered the building. “No ‘ah’.”

  Magda spread her hands, looking mystified at the rejoinder. “What no ‘ah?’ ‘Ah’ is ‘ah,’” she said simply. “Nothing more.”

  If only that were true, Natalya thought. “That’s right, Mama, nothing more,” she emphasized.

  Magda’s expression was just this side of smug. “He is not looking like nothing more. He is looking like ‘something’ more. His eyes—”

  Okay, now she had her. Her mother was making this up as she went along. “You couldn’t possibly see his eyes from where you were standing, Mama.”

  Magda took offense. “I could seeing everything from where I was standing. My eyes, they are seeing like when I was a young girl.”

  Natalya sighed. She scanned the small, crowded store for her sisters, hoping one of them would come to her rescue. They had to be in the back, she decided. It figured. “Go, turn those sharp eyes on Papa, Mama,” Natalya half pleade
d.

  Magda gave a delicate but dismissive snort. “Your father, he is home, hiding. All things female make him nervous.”

  She had a feeling that it was her mother that made her father nervous. Her mother was unpredictable. At a time in life where most people settled into a pattern, her mother was like a firecracker, set to go off. “Then he certainly got into the wrong family, didn’t he, Mama?”

  “Yes, poor man.” Magda chuckled. Slipping her arm around her daughter’s waist, she beamed at her second born. She was enjoying herself immensely. One of her girls was getting married. Only four more to go. “Come, your sisters, they are in the back. Should we telling them about your investigating detective?”

  Natalya prayed for patience and wished she’d taken the subway instead of letting Mike bring her. “There’s nothing to tell.”

  An expression most recently seen on a cat after swallowing a mouse visited her mother’s face. “Of course there is not.”

  Her mother was the only woman she knew who let you know she was disagreeing with you while she was agreeing.

  Natalya gave up.

  “God bless technology and nosy citizens,” Louis cried with feeling, the words erupting from his mouth like a victorious war cry.

  Mike looked up from the pile of notes that he’d been drowning in, his interest immediately piqued. At this point, diversion for any reason was more than welcomed. He and Louis had been fielding phone calls from people all morning. The calls poured in immediately following the captain’s appearance on the six o’clock news. After a brief prepared statement, Sorenson had asked for the public’s help in regards to the mysterious deaths of homeless men.

  Who said New Yorkers were disinterested and cold? Mike thought. It seemed as if half the population had called in, saying they “thought” they might have seen something out of the ordinary. That, he mused, pretty much described life in the city on a day-to-day basis.

  About to pick up the receiver to take yet another call, Mike replaced it in its cradle and rubbed the shell of his ear. Right now, it felt as if he’d had both ears glued to the receiver for an entire decade instead of the last four hours.