Armed and Fabulous (Lexi Graves Mysteries)

by Camilla Chafer

  "Sort of. It's a project I'm working on and I'm supposed to work out what they mean." It wasn't strictly a lie. The notebook was so odd, I had a hunch it could mean something. Solomon’s insult snapped into my mind. Blondie could work it, I thought with determination. "Why would someone use an encryption?"

  "It's pretty standard to keep things secret. The numbers might be names or words, represented by digits. If you find out the key, you can work out the code."

  "That's kind of paranoid."

  "Only if they aren't out to get you," said Serena.

  Someone had definitely been out to get Dean, that much was clear. If he were up to something that he didn't want anyone to find out, like say, oh, insurance fraud, an encryption sounded like a good idea. There was a chance I might have really found something useful. There was a first time for everything! Also: Solomon could suck it.

  "So how do I find an encryption key?"

  "It depends on how complicated it is. It might be as simple as working out the most obvious letters, like the vowels, and guessing from there. Or it could be that the numbers equal a movement of places up or down the alphabet from a specific point. That's if it's a simple, manual, alphabetic code. Some encryptions are machine-made, and unless you have the same equipment, you won't be able to crack it."

  I had to hope that Dean couldn't access anything like that and would have to opt for a simpler code. That would make it easier to decipher.

  "You're talking about hundreds of possible combinations," continued Serena. "And that's just for words that make sense. Names are tougher. And it could be a number-for-number encryption. It could be as simple as each number moving, say, two places up from where it's supposed to be. I've seen that on fraud before."

  Great.

  "I don't suppose you could ask whoever made the codes?" she asked.

  Not without a medium. "No. He's... out of town."

  "You're smart, you'll crack it."

  I looked up from where I'd been stabbing the lasagna, red sauce oozing out of the tine marks. "Thanks," I said, trying not to bristle at the sudden, unexpected praise. If my sister believed in me… I smiled.

  "Now about this shower." Serena curtly slipped a typed sheet of paper out of the scrapbook and passed it to me. "Here's the list of invitees. I have the stationers on standby. The web address is on here. All you have to do is finalize the location—which will be easy now, as it's at my house—and time, and get them to print it. They will mail everything."

  "When's the date?"

  "Next week."

  "Next week!"

  "Keep your hair on. Everyone got a save-the-date months ago."

  "You sent save-the-dates for your baby shower!" I thought about it. “I didn’t get one.”

  "I don't get many days off. I have to be organized. And you’re family."

  I got my notepad and pen out of my bag and looked sadly at my lasagna, which was probably going to get cold while I took notes. Given the time constraints, there wasn't any grace period for messing about. We had to get military about this; it was better for Serena to give me her list of demands so I could work like hell to fulfill them. If not, I'd be forever known as the sister who ruined her first, (and let’s hope, only), child's baby shower. "Tell me everything you need."

  ~

  An hour later, I left Alessandro's with a full tummy, a splotch of creamy sauce on my shoe, (no explanation how it got there), a thirty-six point list of Serena's instructions for her imminent baby shower, and a prepaid reservation for catering the shower next week. God-parenting had better have its perks. I was hoping for a regular supply of daintily drawn cards on which I was depicted as something benevolent like an angel, a tiny, nice-smelling child to supply snuggles, and a profound respect from Serena for my nurturing throughout its life.

  I suspected it actually meant I would be expected to donate extra special birthday and Christmas gifts, regular babysitting, as well as contributions towards its college fund.

  Instead of heading straight home, I swung by the police department and asked for my brother. Garrett helped me fill out the gun permit and told me he would call me to set up some practice time on the range. He told me to pick out a gun when I found one I liked. I gave him an IOU babysitting voucher and drove home.

  Turning into my parking spot, I jumped in my seat when I turned off the engine and spotted Maddox stepping off the porch. Drat. I really should have tried harder to get the splotch off my shoe. On the plus side, however, I looked great. I grabbed my purse and exited the car. I was mindfully standing up and sucking in my stomach, while pushing back my shoulders, which had the added benefit of making my boobs momentarily bigger.

  "You look nice," said Maddox, smiling. "Pretty. Go somewhere special or are you moonlighting at another office?" That was twice now he'd called me pretty. Not that I was counting.

  "Thank you. I've just been to lunch at Alessandro's." I couldn't return the compliment. Maddox was not a man you called pretty. Sexy, however, would work. Gone were the suit and tie, replaced by black jeans, boots that were well worn and a button-down shirt in a soft jersey. He hadn't shaved this morning and dark bristles covered his chin. He looked delicious, especially when his eyes darkened. "A date?"

  I thought about teasing him, but instead, I said, "With my sister."

  "Oh." I could see the mental cogs turning as he thought about my file. "Serena? You have a big family?"

  "Yep, lots of us Graves and yes, I've heard every joke about all the ones in the cemetery."

  Maddox followed me into the building and up the narrow stairs. "So, to what do I owe this pleasure?" I asked, glancing at him over my shoulder. I could hear music, something with a fast beat, thumping through the wall from Lily's apartment.

  "I thought you would want to know that we found Martin Dean last night."

  I turned away and kept my face steadily impassive as I unlocked the door. "Oh?" I said, holding it open for Maddox to step past me.

  "You don't seem surprised," he observed.

  "I already knew he was dead," I countered. I dropped my keys on the console and sauntered into the kitchen, reaching into the refrigerator for Cokes. I passed one to Maddox and he snapped the tab and took a sip.

  "We found him at his house," said Maddox, and I felt his eyes on me as I walked into the living room and sat. Maddox dropped onto the couch, next to me. "In his office chair, would you believe? Kind of fitting for Dean."

  "I thought you already searched the house."

  Maddox watched me closely, his face impassive too. I wondered what was going on behind his all-knowing eyes. "The local security guard got a call about someone sneaking onto Dean’s property."

  "Did the caller say whom?"

  "No. The guard went to investigate, but saw nothing."

  I shrugged and tipped my head back to take a swig from the can. Not exactly ladylike, and my mother would probably have thrown a fit, but I was out of clean glasses and it never occurred to me to buy straws.

  "Then dispatch got an anonymous call from an Australian woman saying there was a body," Maddox continued. He leaned forward, elbows on thighs, the weight of his glance making me recoil. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

  "Me? Nooo. I can't do accents. And Lily can only do British."

  "Dispatch sent out a squad car, and eventually it got to me. There was Martin Dean, dead as a dodo, seated upright in his home office."

  "Guess that solves the mystery of where his body went." I smiled brightly.

  "Guess it does, though the two snoopers are of interest. They might have something to do with the body reappearing after we swept his house."

  I decided it was better to steer the conversation in a different direction. "So, where do you think they’ve been keeping Dean all this time?"

  "The M.E. thinks he was put on ice."

  "Pardon?"

  "Refrigerated. He hadn’t fully thawed when we got him."

  "That's... creepy." I made a note to scrub my kitchen
later.

  "I got to wondering. What if the snoopers had nothing to do with the body turning up? What if they found something? Something that would help the case.”

  "Like what?" I thought about the notebook and the matchbook in my bedroom. I had a feeling the notebook had a lot to do with the case; the matchbook I wasn't so sure about. I'd only taken it because I forgot to put it down when the security guard came to investigate.

  "Could be anything. Now we have the body, we have new leads to follow up. The ballistics report is on a rush."

  A knock sounded on the door, and before I could ask Maddox to explain what that meant, Lily stuck her head inside.

  "In the living room," I said, leaning back to wave her in.

  "Oh, hey," she said, flinching when she saw Maddox.

  "Lily," he said by way of a greeting. He gave her a long, hard look.

  "So..." Lily said, pursing her lips like she was about to whistle her innocence. "Just came by to see how the baby shower planning went."

  "My sister, not me," I said to Maddox, just in case he thought my file missed something. Then to Lily, I said, "We're doing a spa theme."

  "Very cool. Am I invited?"

  "If you bring a gift."

  "No problemo."

  "So what did you two get up to last night?" Maddox interrupted.

  "Nothing," Lily said quickly.

  "We went out for pizza," I said, because we had done that. Except for all the bits I left out, it was the truth.

  "Yeah, pizza," Lily echoed, folding her arms defensively.

  "Make any calls?"

  "Maddox said the PD got a tip off from an Australian lady and they found Dean's body," I said in a rush, my voice edging towards helium pitch.

  "I only do British," said Lily.

  "I thought as much." Maddox smiled, and for a moment, the three of us did the quiet version of a Mexican standoff. Then he got to his feet, stepping past Lily and me. "I'm glad you're both okay. I have some stuff to do, but I'll come back later. I have a few questions to ask you, Lexi."

  "What if I'm busy later?"

  "Are you busy later?"

  Lily shook her head and mouthed “no.” Then made kissy faces. Maddox half turned his head to look at her and she stopped. He frowned.

  "No," I said.

  "Then I'll bring dinner. See you at seven."

  Lily barely contained herself while Maddox let himself out. She flopped onto the couch beside me, taking his place. "Tonight is totally a date," she said.

  "It is not a date."

  "Did you see him inviting me?"

  "No."

  "And he's bringing dinner?"

  "Yes."

  "It's a date," Lily decided, nodding. "Hey, the corpse thing was a close call."

  I mimed zipping my mouth shut and waving my hands round until she froze, then nodded. But she was right, it was a very close call indeed. Except I thought Maddox knew all along it was us. Part of me was very happy that he came by to check up on us. On me, because, now I thought about it, he knew Lily was home, but still waited to talk to me, instead of her, which was unexpectedly nice. If he were tracking my cell phone with its apparent location device, he could have come by Alessandro’s and interrupted lunch, but he didn’t. He waited. And now I had a date, too.

  “You don’t mind me blowing off O’Grady’s and Paradise?”

  “For a night with a sexy cop? No.”

  "What do I wear to a not-a-date at home?" I asked.

  "I feel a fashion show coming on."

  Dear God.

  Chapter Seven

  Maddox turned up at seven sharp, strolling into my apartment as if he owned the place, with a bag of something delicious-smelling in his hand. Fortunately, I had just finished dressing in jeans and a silky, pale blue top, my hair still tied in the ponytail, but this time, with a sparkly band, given the potential date-ness of dinner.

  "Come in," I said and he grinned. He hadn’t changed. He still looked great.

  "You should lock your door."

  "The one downstairs was locked."

  "No, it wasn't."

  "Huh. Maybe Lily forgot." I tried to summon up worry at that but couldn’t be bothered. Maddox was in my house. With food. That was infinitely more interesting right now. I would realign my priorities later.

  "Remind her." Maddox paused, like he was trying to decide whether he should tack on another warning to that or not. Evidently, he decided for, because he said, "There are two killers out there and someone else with an interest in you."

  "Is that why you're here? To look after me?"

  Maddox smiled in that sexy way of his, the one that made my stomach flip and beckoned me to follow him to the kitchen. It was a good job I hadn’t known he was undercover, or that he looked even sexier with stubble, or I’d never have gotten any work done at the office. I padded barefoot behind him, eyeing the rear view. Very nice. He said, "Next time someone walks in when you're not expecting it, it might be one of them, not me. Their intent might be the same as mine."

  That flattened my daydream. But then… "And what's your intent?" It came out a little more breathy than I intended. Maddox turned, stepping closer and my breath caught in my throat. He reached behind me, and for a moment, I thought he was going to wrap his arms around me, pull me in close and... then he stepped back, two plates in hand and winked before moving around me to set the bag on the counter.

  "I intend to feed you," he said.

  Well, that worked for me too. I stood to one side and watched as Maddox unpacked the containers he'd brought and served them onto plates. He was opening my drawers and extracting knives and forks. "Do you have wine?" he asked.

  "Red or white?" I'd made an emergency run to the supermarket, just in case. I also had a new carton of orange juice, coffee, eggs, milk, croissants for the morning—not that I planned to ask Maddox to stay the night, perish the thought, but you know, better safe than sorry, which was why I wore matching underwear and shaved my legs—and fruit.

  "Either."

  I uncorked a bottle of red and carried it through the living room, along with two wine glasses, setting them on the coffee table beside the plates. I was glad he’d chosen not to use my small, dining-for-two table because this seemed so much less formal. Maddox scrolled through my iPod, set an album to play, and we sat side-by-side, eating the spaghetti marinara. It was companionable. Nice. My mother would have asked where the tablecloth was. And the candles. I resolved to buy candles.

  "This is good," I said.

  "It's my favorite take-out spot. Best Italian in Montgomery."

  "Can't argue with that."

  "You like Alessandro's? You went there earlier with your sister?" he prompted.

  "Uh-huh. It's Serena's favorite, but I like it too. You ever been?"

  "Sure."

  On a date? I wanted to ask, but I didn't. I tried to imagine Maddox in a suit and tie, date smart, not office-wear smart, clean-shaven, smoldering across the table from me. I had to stuff a forkful of pasta in my mouth to mask my sigh.

  "You lick your lips anymore and you're going to lose them."

  I hadn't realized I was doing it. "Just getting rid of the sauce," I mumbled.

  Maddox leaned in, stopping just an inch or so from my face, and his eyes fluttered down to my lips, then back to my eyes. When I didn’t move, but for a slightest parting of my lips, he closed the last little bit of distance, and his lips brushed mine, briefly, then again, longer, enough to make my blood rush as I leaned into him.

  "Got it," he said and kissed me again. This time, I was certain there was no sauce left.

  Holy chick-a-bow-wow.

  We finished our meal, talking mostly about food, and cleared the plates. When he sat down again, I poured another glass of wine for each of us. "What are you doing Sunday?" he asked.

  "Nothing much." Traditionally, I went to dinner with my family, but since Mom and Dad retired, Mom started taking a bunch of adult ed' classes and that meant Sunday dinners moved to Thu
rsday night. For the past couple of Sundays, I did laundry and tried to enjoy my last hours of freedom before my Monday-to-Friday sentence at Green Hand Insurance began. Now that Dean’s body had been found, it suddenly occurred to me that maybe I didn't have a job anymore. A fleeting moment of sadness passed through me. Also: poor Dean. "What happens Monday?" I asked. "Now that Dean's been found?"

  "Next week I'll announce Dean died over the weekend. Things will go on as normal for a while. We still have an investigation to run."

  "And what about me?"

  "Try not to break in anywhere."

  It was my turn to smile enigmatically. I stacked the plates and retrieved the tub of ice cream from the freezer, adding bowls and spoons to the counter before I pried the lid off.

  "Here let me," said Maddox, taking the scoop and running it under warm water. He slid his arms around me and grasped the tub, cutting through the ice cream easily.

  "Are you distracted?" I asked as his lips nuzzled my neck.

  "No. Totally on the ball."

  "You scooped ice cream onto the counter."

  "Maybe a little distracted," he said, his hands spanning my waist before he turned me around. My arms went around his neck as he kissed me, slowly at first, then eagerly when I responded. "Sprinkles," he whispered.

  "Do we need a safe word?"

  Maddox laughed. "No, do you have any sprinkles?"

  "No."

  "Chocolate sauce?" he murmured against my lips.

  "Kinky."

  "For the ice cream."

  "No. All out." But I'd definitely get some now. Sauce, that is.

  "How do you live?" he asked as he moved me aside to clean up the spilled ice cream and fill the bowls. He carried them back to the living room so we could curl up on the couch.

  As it turned out, apparently non-date-dates weren't sacrosanct anymore.

  Solomon turned up first. He strolled in as casually as Maddox did and we sprang apart like guilty teenagers who shouldn’t be snuggling on the couch. His eyebrows rose when he saw the wine glasses, half-empty bottle and empty bowls. "You should lock your doors," he advised me.

  I turned to Maddox. "That's your fault. You lectured me on keeping my doors locked, then you didn't lock the door."