Dead Weight by Lori Avocato

One
    â€œWhat the hell do you mean, I am too thin to assign a multi-million dollar fraud case to?” I looked at my sleazy boss, thinking he’d finally flipped. Then again, he was never flipped correctly to begin with. “That’s got to be politically incorrect on so many levels.” Which, in fact, did not surprise me at all about this guy.
    â€œLook, doll—”
    I leaned forward and squinted at Fabio Scarpello, unfortunately the owner of the Scarpello and Tonelli Insurance Company, and said, “If you ever call me ‘doll’ again, you’ll be wearing your lip-chewed cigar up your—”
    â€œHelllllllooooo!”
    I swung around to see my best friend and fellow PI, Goldie Perlman, waltz into the room as if he knew I needed saving. Well, not exactly saving. Over the last six cases I’d gotten pretty damn good at bailing out myself—okay, at least keeping myself alive—but that had to account for something since I’d only been doing this job for six months. I’d burned out of a thirteen-year nursing career and Fabio, in his infinite wisdom, always assigned me the medical fraud cases.
    Sure it made sense on an intellectual level, but I hated donning my scrubs!
    â€œHey, Gold,” I said, admiring his black pinstriped (skirt) suit, gold silken blouse, blonde wig which had been fashioned into a chignon that looked oh-so-real (not that I was an expert on wigs, but Goldie’s were always made of human hair. Had to be.), and his snakeskin black spike heels that made my feet ache in my Nikes. “What brings you in here?”
    He leaned over, kissed my cheek, and whispered, “Apparently to save your ass, Suga. And your job.”
    I groaned. He was right. If I pissed Fabio off, he could fire me on the spot. Heaven knew I needed the money after the fiasco of a co-signed loan that left my bank account pale and my ex-friend the owner of a Lexus, I didn’t even know the color of. The one thing I had going for me though was that I’d solved more medical fraud cases for Fabio in the last six months than the other investigators had in a year.
    Except for Goldie.
    Oh, yeah and Jagger too.
    Ah, Jagger. He’d become an enigma around here. A mysterious hunk of a guy with either a first name and no last name or visa versa. Each time he sauntered into a room (yes, Jagger only sauntered ), my heart went pitter-pat, then my mind would scream that we were co-workers and my Catholic School–Induced Conscience (CSIC) would kick in—and my hormones would kick out.
    Ah, Jagger. Sorry, but that was worth repeating.
    â€œLook, dol—Sokol, I ain’t got all day. You want this case, you gain about fifty pounds,” Fabio said as if that was the be all and end all of the job. “Fast.”
    Goldie looked at me. “Huh?”
    â€œFabio has a huge case in a weight loss clinic in New Mexico. Mega bucks being stolen. I want to go there undercover as a patient.”
    Gold looked at my size four body. “Never in my wildest imagination would I say this, Suga, but he’s … correct. You’d stand out like a sore pinkie on the fist of an ape.”
    â€œWhat the hell does that mean?” I asked.
    Goldie chuckled. “Never mind. You have to be overweight to go there. But,” he turned and aimed his words at Fabio, “you are not going to risk your health by gaining weight.”
    â€œThen the assignment gets passed on to Myrtle. Her butt size will keep her from getting noticed.” Fabio chewed more on his cigar. Thank goodness he nibbled it down enough so it went out and didn’t stink up his office.
    â€œMyrtle doesn’t know shit about medical fraud. Pauline Sokol does.” Goldie took me by the arm. “I’ll handle it. Have Adele book us into the clinic.” With that he guided me out the door with my mouth hanging open.
    â€œUs?”
    â€œYou’re gonna need my expertise,