Justice for All. Joanna Wayne

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.

      She hadn’t until the night when…Callie’s thoughts were thankfully interrupted by Mikki’s boisterous arrival.

      “Hey, no food yet? What’s the holdup, Jake?” Mikki took the stool next to Callie’s. “A woman could starve in this place.”

      “Keeping it hot for you,” Jake answered.

      “Max Zirinsky, meet Dr. Mikki McCallister,” Callie said, making the introductions. “Mikki is a pediatrician on staff at the hospital. Max is Courage Bay’s chief of police.”

      The two of them reached across Callie and shook hands just as Jake arrived with the food.

      “I’ll get out of here and let you two party on,” Max said.

      “There’s always room for one more at a party,” Mikki offered.

      “No, we’ve already established I’m a dud.”

      “We did no such thing,” Callie chided. “We only established the fact that you work too much.”

      Max stood and placed a hand on Callie’s shoulder. The touch sent a shiver of awareness shimmying through her system. That’s what she got for letting those old memories creep back into her mind.

      “I’ll call you in the morning,” she said. “Will you be home?”

      “Call my cell.” He picked up a napkin and scribbled the number on it. “It was good seeing you. You look great.”

      “Thanks. You, too.”

      He said a quick goodbye to Mikki, then headed for the door, his cop swagger as pronounced as ever.

      “Did I just break up a magical moment?” Mikki asked.

      “Whatever gave you that idea?”

      “I sensed a sizzle.”

      “No way. Max is an old friend.”

      “Doesn’t look that old to me, and he does great things for a pair of jeans. Terrific butt.”

      “Do you check out every guy that way?”

      “Like you didn’t. I saw you watching him walk off. But I’m more interested in that phone number he scribbled down for you, and the way he was eyeing you when he told you how good you looked. I could feel the heat over here.”

      “That was fumes from the chili.”

      “So, what’s the story on him?”

      “Max is an old friend, just like I said. And my ex’s cousin.”

      “Tell me more.”

      “That’s it. Max and Tony are probably as opposite as two people can be, but they’re kin. And the phone number is so I can let him know about a patient whose symptoms seem a little suspicious.”

      “Playing detective again?”

      “Just being cautious.”

      Mikki picked up her overstuffed burger and somehow got her small mouth opened wide enough to take a chunk out of it. Watching her eat never failed to amaze Callie. Mikki was five-two and couldn’t possibly weigh much over a hundred pounds, but she had the appetite of a teenage boy. And the energy of one as well.

      She was also an excellent pediatrician and very insightful. But this time she’d definitely misread the signs. Max had come to Callie’s rescue once, but he’d backed miles away after that and let her know in silent but certain terms that he had no interest in her as a woman.

      Callie let the memory of being in his arms slip into her mind for one heated second, then pushed it back to the hidden crevice where she planned to leave it.

      CALLIE LOOKED UP when Dr. Alec Giroux tapped on her open office door. “Mind if I come in? I’m bearing gifts, that is, if you can call a toxicology report a gift.”

      “Then by all means come in. It’s not often I have an E.R. doctor stop in to deliver lab reports.”

      “Just brown nosing the chief of staff,” Alec said.

      “Nice try, but you buck me on too many issues for me to buy that. So what’s up?”

      Alec handed her the lab printout. “I’d walked over to the lab to pick up a report on one of my patients, and the technician brought Bernie Brusco’s results to my attention.”

      “Why is that?”

      “His results look a lot like those of the teenager we lost in E.R. last week.”

      “The ephedra overdose?”

      He nodded. “There was a notable amount of ephedra in Bernie’s bloodstream as well, along with a trace of cocaine and considerably more than a trace of alcohol.”

      She scanned the report. “That would explain his symptoms.”

      “You don’t look or sound surprised.”

      “I’ve