Dead on Arrival by Lori Avocato Read Free Book Online Page B

everyone!”
    ER Dano turned. “You old enough to be in here, kid?”
    Buzz laughed, and I knew he had a fondness for the experienced paramedic—although I couldn’t figure out why. Actually, I figured beneath the rough exterior, ER Dano was a softie.
    â€œDon’t sit next to me, kid,” Dano said, “Your new EMT smell is ruining the taste of my Coors.”
    Buzz laughed hysterically. “New EMT smell! You mean like a new car smells. Right, Dan?”
    Dano turned to him.
    I readied to interfere before he embarrassed the hell out of Jeremy, but ER Dano merely rolled his eyes.
    â€œThat is what I mean, Buzz. That is what I mean,” ER said, then took what I thought was a very long, slow sip of his beer.
    Jagger leaned nearer and touched my shoulder.
    Wow. I wondered if I was going to make it out of here alive, or at least in decent condition. I swung around to him. “What?”
    He motioned with his head and stood up.
    Jagger wanted me to follow him. I got up, said “excuse me” as if ER Dano would care, and followed Jagger toward the pool table, all the while wondering if he wanted me to spend time with him alone—or, more likely, to discuss the case.
    â€œPick out a stick,” he ordered and then racked up the balls.
    I was not a very good player, and he probably knew that, but at least it gave us time to be alone and talk. From the corner of my eye, I could see Lilla doing her job of keeping ER Dano and Buzz busy.
    She impressed me and learned the PI business pretty fast. I figured Lilla was going to be helpful on this case, and hopefully future ones if immigration didn’t deport her back to Canada.
    â€œYou’re solid, Sherlock,” Jagger said.
    I looked up to see him standing oh-so-nonchalantly-Jagger-like with the cue stick at his side. “Hm?” Solid? Was he telling me I was hot and solid? (Please, God!)
    He looked at the pool table. “Solid.”
    Solid colored balls. Duh. What on earth made me think that Jagger had complimented me?
    I took the cue stick in my hands then noticed the square of blue chalk sitting on the end of the table. Uncle Walt sometimes watched pool on television, and I’d joined him on more than one occasion. Being a quick study, I stopped, picked up the chalk, and rubbed it on the end of the cue stick as I’d seen the pros do many times.
    Jagger raised one eyebrow.
    Buzz Lightyear got off his stool and walked closer, more than likely thinking he was going to see some spectacular shot, and ER Dano looked at me, then turned back to his drink.
    But I could see his reflection in the mirror—and he could see me.
    Great. An audience, and me not exactly a pool hustler.
    I shut my eyes for a second to picture the pros’ hands when they shot. Even if I didn’t get any ball in, I’d at least look good.
    I set the chalk down, leaned over, placed my fingers in position, and aimed the white ball at a lovely shade of green ball that was near the corner pocket, realizing I had no idea how to hit it. Just give me this first one , St. T, I prayed in my head, and before I knew it, I’d hit the white ball; it sailed down the felt concourse and hit the lovely shade of green ball directly into the side pocket!
    I looked up to see Jagger—no expression.
    Ha! That in and of itself meant I did good—I believed that and was sticking to it. Slowly I stepped back and leaned against the wall, hoping I looked hot or sexy or at least not stupid.
    â€œStill your turn,” Jagger muttered.
    Damn. “No kidding. I was taking a break.” With that I looked over the table, found a darling red ball near another pocket—and landed that sucker right in!
    After one more, I missed, and Jagger took over, sinking five balls in a row.
    Well at least I’d lose with my dignity still intact since he didn’t cream me right off the bat. Actually, I played on, holding my own, all the while praying and