Justice for All

“That’s not a bar stool kind of dress you’re wearing, but it works for me,” Mikki said. “Grab us a seat. I see my one of my firemen buddies standing by the pool table. I want to go over and say hi.”

“I thought you were famished.”

“I am. Order me a cheeseburger, loaded, including jalapeños, and add a side of chili fries.”

“You’re eating hot peppers and chili fries in the middle of the night?”

“Sure. I’m from Texas. We like it spicy—the hotter the better.”

“Guess that explains your fondness for firemen.”

Mikki smiled as she strode off, her long blond hair bouncing about her shoulders. Now that she’d shed her lab coat, she looked more like a teenager than a doctor.

Callie walked over and stopped at Max’s elbow. “Mind if I join you?”

“I don’t know.” He gave her outfit an approving once-over. “Is Prince Charming going to show up and demand a duel?”

“No Prince Charming. I was at a fund-raiser earlier and had to stop back by the hospital. I didn’t bother to change.” She sidled onto the stool next to him.

“Can’t get away from work even on a Friday night. You’re getting as bad as me.”

“I tried. Bernie Brusco collapsed at the party. I stopped by the E.R. to check on him.”

“Is he all right?” Max asked.

“I think so. Actually it was more serious than a collapse. His heart stopped beating.” She hooked the back of her heels on the rung of the bar stool. “Do you know Bernie?”

“We haven’t met, but I know who he is and that he bought a house in Jacaranda Heights.”

“What else do you know about him?”

“Nothing officially.”

“How about unofficially?” Callie asked.

“Like what?”

“Is he into drug trafficking?”

“I’m guessing that’s not the occupation he put on his hospital admittance form.”

“No, but someone at the party seemed convinced it was true.”

“He’s the kingpin,” Max admitted. “Runs his own little cocaine and crack empire. L.A. police have arrested him several times, but the charges never stick. There’s no sign he’s involved in distribution in Courage Bay, though. Guess he doesn’t want to dirty up his own backyard.” Max rested his elbows on the bar. “Was his collapse drug related?”

“It’s possible. I ordered a toxicology report.”

Jake took the order for Callie’s glass of wine and Mikki’s feast.

“How about you, Chief Zirinsky?” he asked. “Can I get you another beer?”

Max waved him off. “I’ve had my limit.” He waited until Jake walked away before continuing the discussion. “Any chance he was poisoned?”

“A chance, but no real reason to suspect it at this point.”

Max nodded, but she could tell by his expression that the wheels in his mind were still rolling. He thought this might be the work of the Avenger. Not that she hadn’t considered it. In fact, she’d found herself leery of every death or unexplained accident since she’d alerted Max of the suspicious nature of Bruce Nepom’s injuries. Still, she didn’t have any medical information yet to indicate intentional poisoning.

“There’s a lot of things that could have caused the symptoms, Max. Don’t read too much into this yet.”

“It’s a waste of time to tell that to a cop on a murder case, Callie. We read too much into everything.”

“Sounds as if you don’t have any real leads yet on the Avenger.”

“Try no leads. When will you have the results back on the blood test?”

“Tomorrow morning. I can call you if you like.”

“Please do.”

“The party was at Mary Hancock’s, a very top-drawer affair. I can’t imagine any of the guests capable of serial murder, even in the name of justice.”

“Wouldn’t have to be a guest who poisoned him,” Max said. “There had to be lots of other people around as well. Caterers, bartenders, food servers, parking attendants, cleanup crew.”

Jake set Callie’s glass of wine in front of her, and she picked it up and took a long, cooling sip. The talk of murder was getting to her.

“So what else is going on in your life these days, Dr. Callie Baker?” Max asked, obviously sensing her increasing uneasiness.

“Mostly work—and taking Pickering for his beach walks.”

“I guess being chief of staff adds more to your plate.”

“Some. I’ve stopped taking on new patients for now, but I’m still seeing all my established ones. What about you?”

“Work, work and more work.”

“Guess we’re a couple of duds,” Callie said.

“A dud? Not you, Callie. You make the society section of the local paper at least once a month.”

“What are you doing reading the society section, Max? You were never interested in the social whirl.”

“I check out the hot women.”

“You could have your pick of women in this town, hot or not. You always could.”

“You think so?”

“I’m sure of it.” The answer took zero thought. Max was not only good-looking in a rugged sort of way, but smart and honest and—and incredibly tender, though most women probably didn’t know that.