by Maisie Dean
“How’d it go today?” Harrison asked. He looked up at me through tired-looking hazel eyes. His were more blue than Lucky’s. It was easy to forget that they were twins. Despite a very striking resemblance in their square jaws, broad foreheads, and even noses, their opposite personalities colored their appearances in radically different ways.
I did my best not to wring my hands as I told him the gist of what happened. It wasn’t exactly your standard surveillance mission when you ended up inside the house you were meant to be observing. When I got through that part, Harrison’s jaw was taut. He massaged the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger.
“Yet again, Lucky messed up,” Harrison said. “He shouldn’t have left you alone, especially for that long. How long does it take to get some tacos?”
“Apparently they put out a social media blast with a special discount,” I told him. Lucky had explained his extended absence when I found him back in my car. “The line took over an hour and then Lucky realized they’d forgotten the guacamole he’d paid extra for. He got back in line and waited all over again.”
Harrison threw his hands up and shook his head. “Sorry, Kacey. It’s been a life-long effort to figure out what’s wrong with him. We’re still wondering.”
I shrugged. “In his defense, they were definitely the best tacos I’ve ever had. I’m even following their web page now.”
“What’re they called?” Harrison asked.
“Diablo something…” I said.
“Diablo City,” Harrison said quickly.
“Yeah, that’s it,” I said.
Harrison cocked his head to the side and nodded knowingly.
“Well, I’m glad you’re alright. It doesn’t seem like there’s any real damage to the case, from what I’ve heard. Did you notice anything interesting inside?” Harrison asked.
“Like I said, I didn’t see Annie, but she was home. I heard her.”
I knew I had to tell Harrison about the pills I’d found in the cabinet but I was hesitating. The words stuck to my throat so I cleared it. “In the bathroom cabinet I found some pills…” I began.
“Lots of people have pills, Kacey,” Harrison said, not unkindly.
“I know, of course. It’s probably unrelated but I’m pretty sure they were antipsychotics.”
Harrison gave me a look, probably wondering how I knew the colors and shapes of that particular family of drugs. He waited a moment but I didn’t offer anything else.
“You’re right, it could easily be unrelated. It’s worth noting, though. They were Annie’s? Not her roommate’s?” Harrison asked.
“I don’t actually know. The labels were peeled off of all of them,” I said.
Harrison frowned.
“Interesting. I suppose, if they are Annie’s, they could explain some of the symptoms attributed to the workplace accident,” Harrison said.
“Harrison, I don’t think I’m comfortable putting that kind of information in the report,” I told him.
Harrison rubbed his chin. His frown deepened.
“It’s the heart of the business, Kacey, getting to the sensitive bits of information that can clarify the entire picture. It’s not just about high-tech gadgets and cool stuff Sidney wants to sell us.” To make his point, Harrison picked up the catalogue from Sidney that Lucky had dropped onto his desk before he left. Lucky had spent all afternoon marking up the pages with his order. He waved it in the air with a tight grip for a moment before stashing it deep in his desk drawer.
Harrison’s cool demeanor felt like a gust of winter wind had found its way to California and into our office. I took a couple steps backwards from Harrison’s desk towards my own.
“We’re not in the party planning business. We’re in the secrets and crime business.” Harrison sighed and rubbed at his right temple. His voice softened a little. “What part of digging up other people’s deepest, darkest, most shameful secrets do you think is supposed to be fun?”
My cheeks burned. I hadn’t mentioned anything about needing the job to be fun.
“I don’t expect it to be fun,” I said. I knew he’d asked a rhetorical question, but I didn’t want to stay silent. “I just want to do this job properly.”
Harrison looked at me directly. His eyes shone and pierced directly back at me. I wished I knew what was going on in his head. For a second I could almost see it, but then he dropped his fierce gaze to his deskwork.
I stayed standing in front of him, expecting more. He didn’t look up again. I quietly returned to my desk.
It may have been the cooling temperature of the evening air or the conversation that left me with chills. I pulled the scratchy tan jacket back on and got to working on a complete report of the day. The scratchy fibers irritated the cuts on my arms.
CHAPTER 9
It had been a long day of surveillance-gone-wrong, stinging scrapes, and cheap polyester. When I opened my apartment door to the aroma of Cheetos and mediocre wine, I nearly cried from happiness.
Another smell hit me as I walked into my room to drop off my purse. It was the fresh, clean scent of laundry, my laundry, piled high in a basket on my bed. A tear actually escaped my eye when I saw it. Rosie must have done a load for me after she got home from work. My heart warmed instantaneously.
Busty Honey’s reservations from early that day, about having her roommate Annie around the house too much, came back to me. I couldn’t relate. What could be better than having a best friend to come home to at the end of the day? You always had someone to hang out and snack with, but you didn’t have to share your bed with anyone at the end of the night.
It was harder for me to get along with myself day-to-day than it was to get along with Rosie.
I picked up the overflowing basket and carried it with me to the living room. It was still warm.
Rosie was stretched out on our well-loved sofa, watching a show on her laptop. She had a shaggy purple blanket wrapped around her feet and an empty wine glass dangling from her fingertips.
“You are a total queen, Rosie. Thank you for this,” I said, plopping the laundry basket down onto the floor. I jumped onto the couch, squishing her feet.
Rosie shut her laptop and put it on the floor. “You’re very welcome. I had to do some of my own, anyway. You sure had a long day.”
I reached for the wine bottle that sat beside a clean glass. Rosie was the best.
“I had to finish a report.” I sipped at my wine with one hand and rubbed my left temple with the other.
“Tough day?” Rosie asked.
“You could say that,” I said. “Tell me about your day, though. I’ve just spent over an hour going over each minute of mine, as part of my report. I need a break.”
Rosie didn’t need to be asked twice. She refilled her glass and launched in. “My day was good. I found a new route that cuts my usual delivery time in half at least...but there are these dispatchers that I’m positive are gossiping about me.”
“Gossiping? What could they possibly say about you, Rosie? You’re their ideal employee by a long shot.”
“Maybe that’s the problem. Some people say I’m trying too hard sometimes, or that I’m competitive and like to make other people look bad. Stacey thinks I’m trying to get into Trevor’s pants,” Rosie said glumly.
“Trevor?” I scoffed. “No way. If anything, it’s the other way around. Stacey needs attention like a brand-new puppy.”
Rosie giggled into her wine. She accidentally blew a bubble, which made us both laugh.
“Seriously, though,” I said. “It makes me so mad we can’t all support our fellow women in the workplace. People say you’re a great courier because you are. Don’t let Stacey, or Trevor, or anyone else convince you otherwise.”
Rosie’s eyes had gone glassy. “Aw, Kacey. Thanks for that. It’s exactly what I needed.” She sat up from her reclining posture on the couch and started folding my laundry.
“Rosie you don’t have to—”
“Shh, you know I
like to keep my hands busy,” she said. “It’s right here, so I might as well.”
I dug into the pile and found a ripped pair of black jeans to fold. The gaps in the knees reminded me of Busty’s collection of barely-there clothing, which gave me an idea.
“Rosie, you should try these on,” I said.
“What? They’re going to be way too short,” she said.
“I know, but you’re not going out in them. I want to shift how you feel at work with some tweaks to your outfit. I’m inspired by a client I had today. Humor me?”
Rosie raised an eyebrow but she took the jeans from me and tugged them on. They were extra-tight from the wash, so it took a few giggle-filled minutes of Rosie hopping around the living room to get them up to her waist. Seeing her wriggle around was so amusing, I wouldn’t have even cared if they had ripped more or popped a button in the process.
“Oof. Okay, then. Now what?” Rosie asked.
“Mmm.” I rummaged through the pile and pulled out a black tee-shirt with wide sleeves. There were two slits cut out of each shoulder section to expose some skin. The neck dipped gracefully before the point where it was possible to spot any serious cleavage, and the thin strap that crossed from one shoulder to the other traced right above Rosie’s even collarbones beautifully.
“You should probably keep that top. It’s made for you,” I said. It had always gaped around the bust for me. I’d liked it so much that I’d bought the medium when they were all out of smalls.
“Maybe I’ll borrow it one day,” Rosie said, looking down at her outfit. I snapped a picture with my phone so she could get a better look.
Her eyes lit up when she saw the photo. Her platinum blonde hair stood out so starkly against the black, and her eyes popped. Bombshell was the word that came to mind.
“Wear this with that sweet pair of black leather booties you bought last month and you’ll be set!” I told her. “How do you feel?”
Rosie thought for a moment. “I feel good. Tougher. But there’s no way this outfit would be practical for my work,” she said, trying to raise a knee up but failing because the jeans were too tight.
“You’re probably right, but what if you imagine yourself wearing this when you need to? Like when stupid Stacey or Trevor give you grief, picture this,” I said, pointing at the photo on my phone.
Rosie nodded. A smile spread across her lips. “What else have you got?”
The two of us went through the remainder of my laundry pile trying on combinations of tops and bottoms. We did our best to fold the clothes as we went, but the modelling session, for cropped shirts and shorts, or jeans paired with a tank top that was see-through with anything other than a beige bra, took priority.
By the time Rosie and I collapsed back onto the couch, we had both nearly forgotten the troubles of our days. I poured the last of the wine between our empty glasses and pulled the extra large bag of Cheetos onto my lap. My more normal-looking items of clothing were folded in the laundry basket, but the striking pieces that made the wildest combinations were still strewn about the living room.
As hard as I tried, I couldn’t push my thoughts of Busty and Annie from my mind. I felt a weight on my chest that I had never felt before while working on our other cases. The clients we normally had hired us to solve crimes of passion or pettiness. More often than not, the most dramatic outcome for a case was an ex-husband not being allowed at a certain restaurant on Tuesdays and alternating Sundays. This case felt more sensitive and personal. A person’s quality of life was at risk this time, not just a familiar weekly schedule.
It was the first time I’d questioned my job in a while. Digging into people’s secrets eventually took its toll.
I was not comfortable insinuating that the prescription pills I had found in the cabinet played a role against Annie’s claim. I did have a hunch, however, that there was something we didn’t know about Annie and Busty. When Busty had helped me get cleaned up, I had been sure there was no way she could have had anything to do with Annie’s injury. But the way she’d turned so frosty at the end of our meeting had weakened my assuredness. If she was capable of turning on a dime like that, what else could she be capable of?
CHAPTER 10
Due to the abundance of clean laundry the next morning, I got dressed and ready with record speed.
I selected my crisp white dress shirt with the stiff collar, and a pair of sleek, cropped black pants. I completed my outfit with black velvet flats, a slim-fitting black blazer, and a trendy pair of low prescription glasses I’d found at the drugstore. I’d used them on many occasions for auditions to look a certain part. After my conversation with Harrison the night before, I was committed to showing him I was right for the part I already had.
I arrived at the office first that morning. I perched on the edge of my desk while my knee bounced up and down. I was ready for take two.
When Harrison arrived, he crossed the room to drop off his briefcase on his desk and took a long look at me as he did so. Had he noticed the glasses? Maybe it was my sleek outfit that caught his attention.
He didn’t offer any insight before he delivered some bad news. It was bad news to me, anyway. Harrison would be accompanying Lucky on surveillance duty. I was to stay there in the office and attend to boring administrative matters.
“Where’s Owen?” I asked. I tried not to sound like a deflated balloon as I booted up my computer.
Harrison shook his head and muttered, “Napping, probably. He’s taking the night shift again.”
I struggled to compose my expression. I didn’t even get the night shift? I really was benched. Harrison didn’t say anything outright to make me feel like I was being distanced from the case, but getting stuck with outdated paperwork and filing during an active investigation was a pretty good clue.
Lucky waltzed in about a half hour later. He plopped himself on the edge of my desk while he waited for Harrison to get ready to leave.
“What’s different, Chance?” Lucky asked. I’d almost forgotten about my reading glasses. The generic magnification was actually kind of helpful for filling out the online forms. I’d already finished several documents.
“Different? I don’t know what you mean,” I said. I always took every opportunity to play with Lucky. I continued to focus on the screen in front of me while Lucky’s bright yellow and turquoise Hawaiian shirt blurred in my peripheral vision.
“Harrison, what do you think? Our Kacey is different today,” Lucky said.
Harrison turned off his desk light and walked up to where Lucky stood. His eyes flicked over me again, but when he met my gaze they dropped. “She looks normal to me,” he said. “Good normal, of course,” he added.
Lucky scratched his head and continued to study me. “Did you take special vitamins? Eat a full fiber breakfast?”
Harrison elbowed Lucky hard and knocked him off his perch on my desk. “Let’s go. Let’s leave our only competent investigator to her critical work of keeping this business going.” Harrison shepherded Lucky towards the door.
“Before you go, I’ve been thinking about something,” I said. “You should keep closer tabs on Busty Honey. The roommate. I think she’s hiding something.”
Harrison nodded.
Lucky snorted. “I don’t know about that. She looks like she’s a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of woman. She’s probably more of a distraction than any—”
“Thanks, Kacey, we will,” Harrison said, cutting Lucky off. “Good suggestion.”
Harrison rarely agreed with Lucky but he didn’t often cut him off mid-sentence. He was taking me extra seriously. Maybe the glasses were working.
“Thanks,” I said. “I hope it goes well today.”
“Won’t be too hard to beat yesterday,” Lucky said.
I felt like elbowing him right out of the office.
Lucky smirked and shot me a wink before he slipped out the door of his own accord..
Harrison paused at the top of the stairs.
“Don’t worry so much,” Harrison said. “The case is fine. Everything’s under control.”
Harrison left. The glass door softly thudded, along with the rattle of its bell.
I hoped Harrison was right, but my gut told me everything wasn’t fine. I didn’t feel fine. Nothing about this case was fine.
***
I spent the morning working alone in the empty office. I sifted through months of follow up reports on closed cases and only played Candy Crush twice. It was during one of these mini breaks that Tippy swung open the door.
She entered casually, and had started on her familiar path towards the break room before she noticed she wasn’t alone.
“My goodness, Kacey. Why are you working in the dark?” Tippy squinted around the room as if it was a bat cave. “No wonder you need those glasses. Your eyesight must be deteriorating by the minute.
“My eyesight is actually quite good. These are for show. As for the lighting, I prefer the big lights to be off when it’s just me here.
Tippy stared at me blankly. She took a couple steps forward to inspect my glasses and waved her hand towards them. “They’re a prop, then?” She raised an eyebrow.
I stared back at her. “I guess you could call them a prop.”
Tippy scoffed and swatted the idea away.
“Wearing something to intentionally age you? The very idea…” She trailed off as she set her sights on the hallway to the break room. “Coffee?”
“Yes, please,” I said.
I always accepted Tippy’s offers for coffee, regardless of how caffeinated I already was. Our interactions went better when I did. Sometimes I actually poured it down the sink when she wasn’t looking. Other times, I offloaded it to Owen, since he never seemed to be affected by the buzz.
On her way to the break room, Tippy flicked the light switch for the overhead panels. They were momentarily blinding. Tippy herself was glowing too, dressed in a white Chanel-inspired pantsuit. The sunny glow made my eyes droop and my brain feel sleepy. At least I would soon be plied with caffeine.
