Armed and Fabulous (Lexi Graves Mysteries)

by Camilla Chafer

  "Adam Shepherd, Lexi's boss," said Adam, his cover firmly in place.

  "Hello Adam Shepherd, Lexi's boss." She paused, lips pursed, waiting for him to say something. She had a knack for doing that, and making the silence so uncomfortable that you'd be willing to say anything just so it would stop. Adam, apparently, was a tough nut to crack. "Are you doing some extracurricular activities?" she asked, when he stayed silent.

  I rolled my eyes.

  "No." But he smiled this time. "We're just going over a few things for next week."

  "On two consecutive nights?" Lily cast a glance at me that was full of suspicion. "Lexi is very, very dedicated. Hit me up when you're ready, Lex. I'll wait downstairs." She sashayed out with a flick of her hair.

  "She does not believe we're working," I said as I returned to my bedroom closet. I rifled through to find the low-heeled, pink, peep-toe pumps I wanted, my eyes ready for any strange wires or bomb-shaped objects. I found the pumps shoved in a protective plastic box at the back of the closet.

  "That reminds me, you need to read the files."

  "But there's loads," I pointed out. "It will take me all night to read them and I can hardly take them to my parents'."

  "Skim through them later. You can read the rest over the weekend."

  "Thanks. And, Adam?"

  “Yeah?”

  "I really can do this. I won't let you down."

  ~

  Lily has seriously questionable taste in music, but seeing as she was driving, I didn't have a choice. Several Celine Dion tracks later, we turned onto my parents' street, sliding into a space right outside the house.

  My parents had lived in the same house throughout my life and it always looked unchanged. The colors were my mother's choice, white siding with yellow trim. My mother thought it looked like a daisy; I thought it resembled an egg. Out front, the house had a neat lawn, edged with rose bushes and surrounded by the smartest picket fence in Montgomery.

  Five children had grown up in this house; five kids skinned their knees racing bicycles on the street outside. Four of us had favored a quick exit out of the bathroom window to escape via the porch roof, and only three of us had ever been caught. Three of the five grew up in my father's footsteps to become cops. One graduated sum cum laude from Harvard and became an accountant. And one of the Graves' offspring earned an okay degree, had a flirtation with the Army, and eventually, found a career that sucked. Guess which one I was.

  But before nostalgia could hit me harder than the rumor of a designer sample sale, I locked my eyes on the shiny, black Mercedes parked further down the street. It belonged to my sister, Serena. If we were really, really lucky, her husband, Ted Whitman the Third, would be with her. Oh, happy, happy day.

  "I didn't know Serena was coming tonight," said Lily, without enthusiasm.

  "Me neither."

  "You know, I have a bottle of vodka in my bag. We could play a drinking game where every time Serena name drops or rags on someone, we take a shot."

  "We'll be drunk in minutes," I replied, a spark of hope igniting the evening. At least with Lily beside me, putting up with the perfect Serena wouldn't be so bad, but I still had to ask the obvious, "Why do you have a bottle of vodka in your bag?"

  "Seemed like a good idea," said Lily, grinning. Before we'd even closed the car doors, the front door opened and Serena tapped her foot impatiently as she blocked the entrance while we walked along the path.

  "Alexandra," she sighed. "Lily. How nice."

  "Serena." I dropped a kiss on her proffered cheek. "And it's still Lexi." Oh, the conversation that never got old. Serena was five years older than I, the only girl for years until our mother accidentally got pregnant, resulting in little, ol' me. I think it stuck in Serena's craw that not only was she no longer the only girl, in a basket of boys, but she also had to compete for attention. Consequently, that just seemed to make her aim for, what would be to mere mortals, stupendously unachievable goals, but which she nonetheless always attained. Top university? Check. High flying job? Check. Closet full of designer clothes and a perfect figure? Check. Husband by thirty? Check. Gorgeous house with its own gym? Check, effing, check.

  "Can't believe you're forty this year!" squealed Lily as she threw her arms around my sister's stiff neck. I sniggered because age was the one thing Serena had on me and didn't want.

  "I'm not," sniffed Serena. "I'm only thirty-four.” The formal façade slipped back onto her face. “Come through. The folks are in the living room."

  "Is Ted here?" I asked, pausing to trace the crude shamrock with a finger. It was a testament to our Irish heritage, and had been carved in the doorjamb at some point in our childhood. Ted Whitman the Third was about as much fun as Serena. They had been married for six years, but I'd never had any cause to hang out with them. Serena was too perfect for me, and I was too, well, embarrassing to hang out with, according to Serena. She only ever invited me to their house with strict conditions attached, which was fine by me as I preferred to get in and out in thirty minutes flat.

  "Of course."

  "Yay," said Lily flatly, giving me a poke in the ribs and pulling a face as Serena turned her back.

  "I'm glad you're here,” Serena said. Lily raised her eyebrows at me. I shrugged: news to me. “We have an important announcement. It'll be nice to catch up. I'm sure Mom and Dad are dying to know what’s new in your life too."

  Lily stuck her tongue out. I pulled a face right back at Lily as Serena strode away, her heels making little clip-clop noises on the wooden floor before they got muffled by the rug. Serena was uncharacteristically jovial. I mouthed, “What's got into her?” But Lily just shrugged.

  "Come on," she said, grabbing my arm. "Maybe she's moving to Argentina."

  The Argentineans should be so lucky.

  As we entered, Ted was in the middle of a story that made Dad discreetly yawn into a tumbler of whiskey. You would have thought I was Santa bearing presents the way he launched himself across the room, wrapping me up in a bear hug. In my ear, he whispered, "Do you need to go somewhere urgently? Fishbone in the throat, perhaps? Emergency appendectomy? Is that your cell phone ringing with Lily reporting that a pipe burst in your apartment?"

  Lily squeezed into the doorway. "Hi!" she said, beaming, and Dad sighed, moving to embrace her too, repeating the same thing in her ear as she giggled.

  I waved to my older brother, Jord, the youngest of the boys. He took a moment to turn from Ted, wave at me, and look Lily over from head to toe, winking at her before turning away, and frowning at whatever Ted was droning on about.

  "Hello, Officer Tasty," whispered Lily under her breath. Her crush on Jord started in high school and had never waned. They flirted, but never went any further. Despite Jord's reputation as a skirt chaser, he knew better than to start something with Lily, only to ditch her. None of us would put up with that. It had been suggested more than once that we might even prefer Lily to him, but those reports were unconfirmed.

  I nudged her side with my elbow.

  "Yum," she said, licking her lips as she watched Jord.

  I rolled my eyes and leaned into my dad, whispering in his ear, "You said yes when Ted asked you if he could marry Serena."

  "My greatest regret," Dad whispered back, releasing me so he could spin me around, exclaiming loudly, "Look! It's Lexi!" and cutting Ted off in the process. He pointed to my head for extra effect.

  "We can all see that, dear," said my ever-tolerant mother, who, for the record, loved Ted to bits because he was so smart and successful. The rich bit helped too. The latter certainly helped Serena accept Ted's prematurely receding hairline. "Lily, darling, looking lovely as always. How are your parents?"

  Lily plastered a bubbly smile on her face, the kind she always adopted when talking about her cold, indifferent parents. "Fine! Thank you!"

  "Where are they these days?"

  "Australia."

  "How... sunny."

  My friendship with Lily was set the day I met her, but o
ur parents didn’t exactly get along. Lily’s parents were rich, slightly standoffish and traveled frequently, often working abroad for long stretches, as they were now. They were nothing like Lily, who was warm and funny and had about as much ambition as I—plenty, but no idea where to direct it.

  Mom fussed over us, seating Lily and me as far away from Ted and Serena as possible. It made me realize how much wiser she'd gotten in her old, sorry, advanced age. We used to tease Ted mercilessly and she wouldn’t let us anymore. I think Ted missed it. Normally, he went bright red every time he saw Lily, and today was no exception.

  "Garrett and Daniel are due any minute," said Mom, her eyes flitting over the table as she added brightly, "We have a full house tonight."

  My father is a retired cop, as were his father and their brothers and sons. My oldest brother is Garrett. MPD, as a whole, thinks it’s hilarious to have a homicide cop called Detective Graves, but I heard it makes victims’ families cry. Then there's Daniel, who's also a detective with a different team and also working his way up. Serena skipped the becoming a cop urge, as well as the urge to marry one. Finally, the youngest of the boys, Jord, is a beat cop and happy to be one. A recent incident involved his elbow being used a little too enthusiastically during an arrest last month. It resulted in bumping him down to traffic duty, as well as gave him a leg up to bi-weekly anger management classes. I hoped Garrett and Daniel were bringing their wives and kids. Jord rarely ever brought anyone, which was fine with Lily, because to her, our family dinners meant he was virtually her date. Even if he didn't realize it.

  Garrett arrived first, letting himself in, before returning to usher in his wife, Traci, and their three children. I blinked when I saw their t-shirts. Traci's read “COP WIFE.” Their children, Patrick, (the Teenager), Sam and Chloe, wore t-shirts that read “COP KID.” Two of them were visibly embarrassed and the third couldn’t read yet.

  Traci gave me a friendly hug and smoothed her blonde hair behind her ears. Married young, Traci had been in my life since my mid-teens. She was a friend, a sister and sometimes employer, offering me cash for babysitting favors.

  "Nice shirts," I said, running my eyes over them.

  "I know. Right? Garrett thinks they're great."

  I raised my eyebrows. "Okay."

  Traci punched me lightly on the arm. "Enjoy them while you can. They may never be seen again."

  Garrett gave me a quick hug before helping Chloe in. I wondered if he knew about my dead boss and had to bite my lip to stop myself from asking him.

  Traci went into the kitchen to help my mom, and Daniel arrived with his wife moments later. None of us had ever fathomed how Daniel persuaded Alice to marry him, much less how he bagged her in the first place. She was smart, magazine cover pretty, a dedicated runner with a body to match, only a few years older than I, and the mother of his two little children, Ben and Rachel. There is nothing wrong with Daniel. He’s an all round nice guy, a dedicated cop and a good husband, which must have gained him entry into her league, after all, great guys like Daniel are hard to find.

  When everyone was crowded into the already stuffed to bursting living room, Serena perched on the big leather couch next to Ted. She gathered his hand into hers and beamed. Realizing she was being ignored, her sharp whistle pierced the air and called us all to attention. I made a quick check to see if she had any notecards because she had a habit of giving presentations, rather than news; but whatever she had to tell us, it was apparently going to be short. Hallelujah! Garrett caught my eye and winked, clearly thinking the same thing.

  "I'm pregnant!" Serena exclaimed and everything else was lost to the sound of my mother shrieking and the chorus of congratulations. Lily dutifully squealed and clapped her hands while Dad and I exchanged concerned glances. He was definitely thinking what I was thinking. There was only one thing worse than Serena and Ted—Serena and Ted breeding.

  "Yay," I said feebly, as the thought of their progeny entering the world dawned on me. "Marvelous."

  "And we want you to throw the baby shower, Alexandra. And be godmother," Serena added to sweeten the deal.

  Huh? Lily elbowed me.

  "Thank you," I blurted, instead of Why me? A baby shower? I've attended my share of them, but I'd never thrown one. I had a sneaking suspicion that Serena had terrified everyone else so I was her one last hope to hostess a good shower.

  "Thanks, Alexandra," said Serena, cutting off my protest before it even began. "My friend, Jane, threw a fabulous pink-and-blue themed party for our friend, Alison. We hand-painted sleepers with non-toxic fabric paint and did baby jar shots. Non-alcoholic, of course. I'll give you a list of names and a date."

  "How lovely. Grandma O’Shaughnessy will be so excited!" squealed my mother, a smile spreading across her face as she contemplated a sixth grandchild to add to the existing brood. The mention of Grandma O’Shaughnessy sent shivers through the room. "Alexandra would love the challenge. It's not like she's busy with her little temping job," she added.

  I scowled and pinched my nose to stop my nostrils flaring in annoyance. Oh, how I wished I could have said I was now a super secret agent on the trail of a murderer. Except, so far, I'd done nothing but hide in a closet—mmm, nice memory of Adam there—and hand over the memory stick, as well as agree to snoop on everyone I knew at work. Nope, I couldn't say that. I had to keep my mouth shut and take the jibe, crossing my fingers that Grandma O’Shaughnessy wouldn’t be planning a visit anytime soon. She was ancient and mean and probably born that way.

  "No problem," I smiled sweetly, elbowing Lily in the ribs. If she thought I was tackling this alone, she was so wrong. "So, when's baby due?"

  "In three months. A fall baby," Serena clarified, just in case I was challenged at working out the season. All the same, I had to count backwards on my fingers. Serena was in her sixth month and none of us had noticed a bump. Now that I thought about it, it explained the flowing tops.

  "I'm very happy for you both," I managed, my smile echoing the size of my mother's, who was already chirping about clothing and knitting. I could have been wrong, but I didn’t think she could knit.

  "I think we should have a celebratory drink," interjected Dad, ambling over to the door. I suspected self-medication was about to occur.

  "Non-alcoholic," chirped Serena, and I wondered if her unbearable perkiness was going to continue throughout the entire pregnancy, and if that was really an improvement on her normal self. Personally, I couldn't wait until she got cankles.

  "Double shots for the rest of us," said Dad, under his breath, but I'm pretty sure only I heard. Mostly because Mom and Serena were squealing something about cribs and whether drop sides were really a safety threat or not. Apparently, it was something worthy of a lot of debate, given Traci’s and Alice's contributions.

  "Let's go." I nudged Lily and we slipped out of the room, following Dad down the hallway into the kitchen. He was pulling a bottle of emergency slash celebratory champagne left over from Christmas out of the refrigerator while simultaneously downing a shot of whiskey.

  "To the next generation," he toasted us as he poured another one.

  Lily knocked him on the elbow playfully. "Not ready to be a grandpa again, Mr. Graves?"

  "Not ready to be a father," grunted my dad.

  "Oh, Dad, you'll be just fine." It's the rest of us that will suffer the most, but I decided not to share that. Gosh, I'm a good daughter.

  I sat with Dad to watch the news while Serena filled in Traci and Alice about her plans for the nursery. They were far better qualified than I to discuss the intricacies of cribs and onesies. Serena was even receptive to the name tips from Rachel, who thought the names, "Pumpkin" and "Toodles" sounded great for a girl or a boy. Now as I thought about it, and after seeing her talk to Rachel, maybe Serena would make a good mother. And Ted probably would continue to work late at the office until the child was eighteen, so the chances of him or her being ruined by his input and influence were low.

  “How’s anger m
anagement?” I asked Jord as he wedged himself onto the sofa, squashing me between Dad and him. Lily gazed at Jord in unbridled adoration. I kicked her shin.

  “It’s amazing. I love it.” He gave me a Cheshire cat grin before stretching his long legs all the way under the coffee table.

  “You’re not supposed to love it,” I told him. “You’re supposed to feel remorseful, bare your soul and promise to never do it again.”

  “To hell with that mumbo-jumbo shit. Ow, Dad, sorry, okay?” said Jord as Dad reached around me and lightly cuffed his ear without saying a word. “No more swearing, got it. Anyway, the chick who takes the class. She’s got hooters like…” As Jord extended his hands, cupping them, Dad coughed politely right before my mother walked past and smacked him over the head with a magazine. “Ow! Jeez, Mom! No wonder I have anger issues. Anyway, the view makes the soul-bearing stuff just about manageable.”

  “Poor you. How you suffer.”

  “I do,” Jord agreed. “Tomorrow night we’re going to talk feelings again. We have to talk about the event that brought us there and how we feel.”

  “Yeah? How’s that going?”

  “I was pissed off and that punk deserved a broken nose,” said Jord decisively. “He was lucky I was off balance.”

  “You might want to adjust your story before tomorrow night,” I suggested.

  “No worries. I plan on squeezing a tear. She’s big on hugs for the ones that cry. I’ve been practicing my sad face in the mirror.”

  I sighed at his dedication and shook my head. Asking a Graves man to bare his feelings was like asking a hungry lion to play nice with the stray dog that just fell into its den: it wasn’t going to happen. They’d rather just get messy.

  "Jeez Louise, would you look at that," said Dad, nodding at the scene that flashed onto the screen. The local news channel ticker flitted across a screen crowded with onlookers. We watched as a covered stretcher was loaded into the back of the Montgomery morgue mobile, as it was known locally, before the anchor came back into view, recapping the event. Ron Harris, said the caption underneath, forty-two, killed in a hit-and-run, then a number for any eyewitnesses to call in. "What kind of asshole plows into someone and leaves them to die in the street like a dog?" Dad asked, with a shake of his head.