Working Stiff

Maybe I can try again later.

“That was a narrow escape,” Gina says in a low voice. “Calhoun wants to talk to Sid about opening up a new women’s suite at the hospital by converting the old nurses’ quarters into an outpatient center. And trust me, when Calhoun gets to talking business, it’s a real snore.”

“I know,” I say. “Been there, done that.”

Gina laughs. “Sid knew Calhoun would approach him tonight. He got wind of it from one of the admin. secretaries. Every time Calhoun comes up with a new scheme, you can bet he’s going to run it by Sidney first. The idiot thinks he has us fooled into believing that the only reason he comes to us is because he respects Sid’s opinion and not because he wants Sid’s money to back him up.”

She pauses and flashes me a wicked smile. “You know what I told Sid last night when he mentioned this latest venture idea of Calhoun’s? I told him he should suggest they open up a sleep studies center instead. Then, to help the patients nod off, they can bring Calhoun in and get him talking business.”

We both snort a laugh and my spirits get an even bigger boost when I see that Gina has steered us to the bar, where she orders us each a glass of champagne.

“Cheers,” Gina says, holding her glass aloft. We clink and drink. Then she shakes her head and smiles that megawatt smile of hers. “Mattie, I must say, you are looking fantastic tonight. That dress is beautiful.”

“Thank you,” I say. A few more compliments like that and my head will be so big I won’t be able to fit through the doors.

“You’ve done something different with your hair, haven’t you?”

“I have. I finally found a great stylist.”

“Well, that is a coup!” she says. “Whatever you’re doing, it’s working. You’ve been turning heads since you got here.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

I take a moment to relish the concept.

“Did David tell you I called?” Gina asks, interrupting my reverie.

“No, he didn’t,” I say, mildly surprised that she has.

“I was afraid he might not, but I didn’t know how else to reach you. There’s no phone number listed for you.”

“I don’t have a phone at the moment,” I tell her. It’s a lie, bit it’s easier than admitting that I still don’t know the number of my cell phone.

“Really? It doesn’t bother you, not being able to call anyone?” She looks appalled and I imagine the thought of being disconnected from the rest of the world is tantamount to torture for someone like Gina.

“Not yet,” I say with a smile.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just that I’ve been concerned about you ever since I saw you the other day. Wondering if you’re doing okay with all the…changes in your life. It must be a very difficult time for you.”

“I’ve had a few rough patches,” I admit. “But I’m doing okay, Gina. Thanks for your concern.”

“Hey, we girls have to stick together, you know. Keep the men from getting out of line.” She gives me a warm smile, her eyes twinkling. “Though if this new look of yours is any indication, I’d say you’re doing just fine.”

“Thanks.” My neck is starting to ache beneath the massive weight of my head.

“Don’t mention it. And listen, if you ever want to talk, or just go out to lunch or something, don’t hesitate to call me. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” A subtle shift of her gaze to the left gives me a second’s warning before yet another hand clamps down on my shoulder.

“Well, if it isn’t Mattie Winston!”

I turn and smile at Mick Dunn and his wife, Marjorie.

“Hello, Mick, Marjorie,” Gina says, her voice noticeably cooler than it was a moment ago. She turns back to me. “Remember what I said, Mattie. Call anytime.” With that, she slides away into the crowd, leaving me with Mick and Marjorie.

“It’s good to see the both of you,” I tell them, watching Marjorie glare after Gina. “How’s the bone business, Mick?”

“The usual. A break here, a break there. Just steady enough that I never get a break.” He laughs at his own joke and I manage a chuckle, even though I’ve heard that same line from him dozens of times before. “You really look great, Mattie! Ditching David seems to suit you,” he says with a wink.

Marjorie’s glare quickly shifts from Gina to me. Mick is a notorious flirt, a trait that has landed him in the beds of at least three other women I know about and who-knows-how-many that I don’t. He has oodles of charm and is strikingly handsome with his sparkling blue eyes and cinnamon-colored hair. Because of his shameless womanizing, I want to dislike him. But I can’t. He has a self-deprecating style that is not only irresistibly charming, it has the bonus effect of irritating the crap out of his wife, Marjorie, someone I’ve discovered I can dislike with ease.

Marjorie Dunn is one of the coldest, most snobbish women I’ve ever met. Her platinum-blond hair and steely blue eyes work to accentuate that icy impression. I have to give her one thing though; she looks pretty good for a woman of fifty-three. That is due in part to some help from Cary Snyder’s scalpel. Marjorie has had a boob job, the tummy and thigh-sucker routine, and a nose job, presumably to make it easier for her to look down it at everyone else. Those are the surgeries I know about, and I suspect some other procedures have been done in Cary’s office, because Marjorie’s face has that tight, drawn look to it, giving her an expression of perpetual surprise. Her skin is stretched so taut over her cheekbones, she looks as if one good sneeze will split her face wide open.

I wonder if it is Mick’s infidelities that drive Marjorie to surgically improve herself, or if it is simple vanity. Most of what I know about her leads me to believe she is far more interested in Mick’s social position and earning capacity than his fidelity—or lack thereof. I figure that is why she stays with him even though she has to know about his many dalliances. What I don’t understand is why Mick, who has a warm personality and an obvious zest for life, stays with a frigid little killjoy like Marjorie.

She finally acknowledges my greeting with a nod and the slightest hint of tedium in her voice. “Mattie. How nice to see you.” I am instantly dismissed as she turns to Mick. “Darling,” she says, her tone robbing the word of any hint of endearment, “you really should take advantage of the evening to talk with Ms. Molinaro about the nursing problems you mentioned. It’s the perfect time, you know. What with the liquor flowing freely and the good PR this event will bring for the hospital, I’d wager her mood will be better than usual.”

“You’re right, of course,” Mick says, his eyes roaming the room. Judging from the expression of anticipation I see on his face, I don’t think it’s Molinaro he’s looking for.

“Let’s try to find her before the dinner,” Marjorie suggests, deftly steering Mick away and leaving me standing alone.

I watch them go and consider tagging along, thinking this could lead to some of the evening’s best entertainment. Marjorie is a manipulative woman who hates to lose and Molinaro is as stubborn and mean as they come. I figure the two of them for even odds in a bitch-slap session but in the end I chicken out, fearful they might combine their considerable talents and use them on me.

Chapter 18

I flag Izzy down and meet him in a corner, where we compare notes.

“Find out anything?” I ask him.

“A little. Seems everyone is pretty shocked by the fact that Karen was killed, although so far not too many people seem to know about the fake identity thing.”

I’m surprised by that. Normally, anything that newsworthy would move through the hospital grapevine like shit through a colon after a lower GI prep.

“I have no idea if anyone else was sleeping with the woman,” Izzy continues. “I haven’t quite figured out how to ask that question without being offensive. But Garrett did mention something about a medical supply company that Karen had some connection to and an ownership scheme that would allow the docs to refer to the place, share