by Kayt Miller
Leaning on the open door I know I look surprised. “I suppose you know what we both like to eat.” He did investigate me, after all.
“No. I brought a few things, so you can pick.”
“Oh. Thank you,” I say shyly. That was nice of him. “Come in.”
Stepping over my threshold, he almost has to duck to get through. I’ve got standard doors throughout my house, but the place is tiny. Seeing him standing in my personal space, I can’t help noticing he dwarfs the place. He’s turning around in a circle. Looking for what? I’m not sure. When his eye stops at my breakfast bar, he walks over and sets the bag on top. “Should we work at your table? It looks like you’ve got it set up.”
“Sure. Let me grab another chair for Violet.”
“I’m okay over here,” she says, sitting on one of the stools.
I know better than to argue with her. She’d be embarrassed if I made a big deal, so I leave her at that spot. Besides, it’s not like it’s across the room. She’s only a few feet away. “I, uh,” I start nervously. “Have some notes started. That’s all.”
“Good. We can compare what we’ve got and go from there.”
“Good.” I nod. I look up at him and wait. He’s doing the same to me. Clearing my throat, I say, “I’ll start.”
So, I do. Going down the bulleted list I’ve made on the legal pad, I explain various theories that have all been blown out of the water now that I know the thieves used my computer.
“Tell him about your emails,” says Violet from her perch near the kitchen island.
Looking up at Ian, I tell him about the emails. “I’m not sure if it’s relevant but I’ll tell you anyway.” If Violet thinks it’s pertinent, then it probably is. “The other day, I checked my work email. I was surprised I was still able to access it.”
“Me too,” he grumbles. I watch him write something on his own pad of paper.
“I read the one that Drake wrote about why I was leaving.”
“I wrote that.”
“You did?” I blink at him. “Thank you for not telling everyone I was fired.”
“Drake wanted everyone to know but I talked him down.”
“Jerk,” mutters Violet. When Ian looks over at her she clarifies. “Not you. Drake Gargoyle. He’s a jerk.”
Ian throws his head back, releasing a lovely rumbling laugh. Once he’s stopped laughing, which takes a few minutes, he adds, “He looks like a gargoyle.”
“We know.” Vi and I say simultaneously.
“Keep going. What happened with the emails?”
“I read one from Trent.” I scowl.
“Why the angry expression? What’d his say?”
“Oh, um, nothing.”
“Agatha,” he says in a domineering tone. One that I should hate, but I don’t.
“Ian.”
“Agatha. What did it say?”
“Oh, well, it was nothing big. Just something like, Agatha, I don’t know if you can still see this email, but I wanted to tell you how sorry I was about everything. I’m sorry I ever thought you were trustworthy, reliable, and well, someone I could see myself with in the future. You disgust me, blah, blah, blah. Trent”
“Whoa,” whispers Violet. “Harsh.”
“Harsh is right,” says Ian as he reaches his palm out to place on top of my own. “Uncalled for.” Squeezing my hand, he pulls it back to his side of the table. “So, was that it?”
“No. So after I read those two emails, I looked up and one-by-one, they started disappearing.”
“What was disappearing?” he asks, appearing to be confused.
“The emails. By the time I was able to click on one more, they were all gone.”
“Have you tried to log in again?”
“No.”
He jots something else down on his pad. “Let’s try now.”
I wake up my old laptop and find myself at the H&S email portal. Typing in my username and password (no comment), an error message appears. “It says my username and password are invalid.”
Ian nods. “Hang on.” He pulls a phone from his inside jacket pocket and begins typing. “Just sending a text to my partner Jason. I’m telling him about the deleted emails and the login message.”
“Sounds like a self-destruct bug or something,” Violet says absently.
“Hmm,” Ian lifts his phone again and begins to type. She must have said something that makes sense to him. Good thing because it makes absolutely no sense to me. When he’s done typing, he slides the phone into a pocket inside his jacket. “Let’s eat while we wait for him to get back to me.”
Violet stands to walk around my small kitchen island and pulls out the contents of the brown paper back. “Subs.”
“I got one turkey, one ham, and two vegetable subs. I wasn’t sure if either of you were vegetarians.”
I know Violet has been eating lots of rabbit food lately; she might go for the veggies. “That was thoughtful, thank you, Ian.”
He looks down at me, gives me a small smile and adds quietly, “My pleasure, Agatha.”
Violet continues to pull things from the large bag, including several small bags of chips, condiments, plastic silverware, and a plastic container with what looks like pasta salad inside.
“Let me grab some plates.” I move around the island, reaching up onto my tiptoes to the cupboard next to my stove. Just as my fingers are about to make contact with the plates, I feel a big warm body behind me. Close behind me. So close, I freeze in my spot. I shouldn’t like this.
“Here, let me, shorty.”
Warning bells should be going off like crazy right now. But, for some reason, they aren’t. Maybe it’s because my sister is two feet away. It could also be that my instincts tell me he’s trying to help. From assisting with the plates to unraveling the embezzlement charges. In my heart, I know he’s sincere. Still, I can’t let an insult go, now can I? “I’m not short,” I grumble. Well, not that short. Wanting to argue the point, I attempt to turn in my spot but get only halfway. His body is so close to mine, most of me is touching at least half of him. Placing my palm on the middle of his chest, I note the hardness as I gently push him away.
He obliges with a smirk. “Sorry.”
“N-no problem.” I scurry back to my place on the other side of the island and wait for Violet to choose her sandwich.
She chooses one of the veggie subs. Looking at Ian I ask, “May I have the turkey please?”
I watch as Ian takes the only other stool I’ve got. “I’m a garbage disposal. I’ll eat whatever you ladies don’t want.”
I snort. “Yeah, right.”
Looking sincerely affronted, he says, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re obviously in great shape,” I say, gesturing at his body. “I doubt you pig out on junk food.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He leans closer to me. “But I am a true junk food junkie. I have to work out twice as hard to burn everything off.” Using his finger, he taps the end of my nose. “And do you want to know my favorite food?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Pizza.”
I know why he said that. Either he saw the stack of empty pizza boxes on the side of my house or he’s been watching me. “Stalker,” I mutter.
For the second time today, Ian throws his head back and laughs. It takes him longer to get himself under control this time, but when he does, he reaches out and pats my knee. “In the private dick business, we call it surveillance.”
It’s my turn to react. I feel my face flush to a hot fuchsia, and I also nearly choke to death on my one and only bite of turkey sub.
Startled, Ian jumps off the stool and stands at my back. Wrapping his palms around me, I swear he’s about to do the Heimlich. “I’m fine. I’m fine. You just caught me off guard.”
“You sure?” he asks, leaning close while gently rubbing my back.
“I’m sure.” Geesh. I reach across the countertop to grab a bag of salt and vinegar chips and see Violet’s face. T
he only word I can use to describe her expression? Smug.
Chapter 10
Ian
As the three of us eat lunch in relative silence, I take the opportunity to look at her home. Small. That’s the first adjective I’d use. But, beyond that, I’d call it homey and warm, like her. Even though the furniture is small it all looks comfortable. The deep chocolate-hued sofa is overstuffed, as is the side chair. There’s a matching tufted footstool sitting in front of the chair. The pair look like they were designed and manufactured in the 1970s due to the mod-patterned upholstery. I rather like it.
On the furthest wall is a tall bookcase that extends from floor to ceiling in one corner of the living room. It’s filled entirely with books. If I had my glasses on, I might have been able to see what she’s got on those shelves from here. You can learn a lot about a person from the books on their shelves. My guess? I’d say she reads a variety of genres from romances to mysteries. There are some thicker, larger tomes on the bottom shelf. Those are most-likely related to her career or education.
From my spot on one of two bar stools I can see down a short hallway where there are three doors. Two bedrooms and a bath. I know as much from my research on the property. The county assessor’s page told me everything I needed to know about the house from the square footage, number of bedrooms and baths, as well as when Agatha bought the place and how much she paid. I’m no real estate mogul but I’d say she did well with her purchase. The value has gone up significantly in the five years since she purchased it.
That’s another tell about this whole embezzlement scheme. If she stole the money, wouldn’t she have bought something with it? A bigger house? A nicer car than her 2015 Toyota Corolla? Perhaps she’d have taken a vacation with the money, but records show she hasn’t taken any extended leave in the eight years since she started working at H&S. Hell, she’s barely taken sick leave. In 2017, she had to have her gallbladder removed, but only missed three days of work. Other than that, she’s taken a day here and a day there, just like she said earlier.
This woman intrigues me more every day. I’m not just referring to how beautiful she is or how I keep envisioning her curvy legs wrapped around my waist. No, it’s more than that, more than sex. Although, the notion of sex with her could sustain me, I feel like there’s more to her than meets the eye. Way more. The problem is, am I going to get the chance to find out?
I had hoped Jason would have gotten back to me by now. I’m waiting for a response from him about Agatha’s claim that her emails were deleted as she reviewed them. I believe her. Why would she make something like that up? Nothing is impossible when we’re talking about the cyber-world. With lunch out of the way, I decide to message him again.
Me: Did you get my text?
Jason: Yep.
Me: And?
Jason: I went down and got her computer. I’m going through it now.
Me: Why her computer?
Jason: I have a theory.
Me: Are you going to tell me that theory?
Jason: Indubitably, my good man. Indubitably.
Shit, this kid drives me crazy. The other day he talked like a guy from the 1970s. Now’s he’s some dapper-dandy from the turn-of-the-century? Half the time I want to punch him in the face, the other half I want to hug him like he’s my kid and tell him to pull his head out of his ass. He’s too smart for his own good. Let me rephrase that. He’s too computer smart. Common sense? Not so much.
Me: Give me a hint.
Now before I pull my hair out.
Jason: I’m running a diagnostic. It’ll take about twenty minutes. You coming back in today?
Shit.
Me: Yeah. Be there within the next hour.
Jason: Cool. I should know something by then.
“Is that about my emails?” Agatha asks as she straightens her tiny kitchen. “Can you hand me your plate?” Her hand is extended toward me, awaiting my dish. The gesture and her statement are very domestic.
“It is, but he doesn’t have anything for me yet. All he said was that he ‘had a theory’.” I air quote him.
“A theory is better than nothing.”
“True.” Damn it. I think we’re done here and that sucks. I don’t have any reason to stick around. And I’d like to. Maybe watch a movie, cuddle. I stand up so fast I startle both Palmer women. Hell, I startled myself. What the fuck am I thinking? I want to cuddle? I haven’t cuddled in, well, ever. Catherine certainly wasn’t a cuddler. She was too busy to cuddle. Or maybe I’d call her too intense or rigid to cuddle. Not to mention too apathetic towards me to cuddle. Not that I tried. I fall into several of those categories too. At least I used to. Maybe nearly dying on the job changed more than my career. It certainly changed Catherine’s feelings about me. Hell, maybe getting stabbed by a fucking serial killer wasn’t all bad. It got me out of a loveless marriage.
“Well, I’d better get going.” I say, standing. Part of me is really hoping she’ll try and stop me. Ask me to stay, Agatha Palmer.
“Oh, right. Well, thanks for stopping over.” She wipes wet hands on a dishtowel that’s embroidered with little ducks. “And for helping with, um, you know, everything.” She steps around the counter to stand in front of me. “And thanks for lunch too.” She smiles weakly.
“Yes. Thank you for lunch,” adds Violet. She hasn’t said more than a word or two since or during lunch. The woman is quiet. I wonder why.
“My pleasure ladies.” I step to her door, which takes me no more than a few steps. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Oh,” Agatha approaches me. “Do you want my number?”
I’ve got it, but I think I freaked her out about the surveillance shit. “Sure. That’s a good idea. I pull my phone out of my back pocket. “I’ll add your number to my contacts. I gave you my card. It has my cell and email address listed on that.”
Phone poised ready for her to speak, I wait for her to tell me her digits. She looks into my eyes, but she remains silent until, “Oh.” She giggles. “You’re waiting for me. It’s 555-645-4270.”
I type in her information, wave, and I’m out the door. I’m hoping by the time I get back to Jason, he’ll have an answer for me.
Chapter 11
Agatha
“Well, that was interesting.”
I’d been watching Ian walk to his car through the tiny window in my front door. “What was?” I ask absently. Turning around, I look over at Violet sitting on my sofa.
“That whole. Thing.” Violet’s moving one hand in a circular motion, gesturing toward my kitchen.
“What whole. Thing?” I mimic the gesture. I know what she’s referring to, but I want to hear her confirm my own thoughts.
“He’s smitten.”
I release a little laugh. “That’s a word I haven’t heard in a while. Smitten? You think?”
“I think. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, for one.”
“And for another?”
“And for another, he doted on you.”
Laughing harder, I say, “Doted? You’re using mid-century words. Next you’re going to say he’s going to ask me to go steady.”
“He should. He will.” Standing up, she brings the computer she had on her lap with her. She sets the computer on the table and walks over to me, wrapping her arms around me. “You deserve to be happy, Aggs.”
“So, do you, Vi.”
She doesn’t respond to my comment, but instead she backs away. “I’ve got to hit the road. I’ve got class in a bit.”
“Right. I’ll call you if I hear anything from Ian.”
“Do. I’m sticking with my self-destruct bug theory, but who knows?”
“Hmm.”
“Oh, did you show him the other thumb drive? The one from the box?”
“Shoot. No, I forgot.”
“Well, we know it didn’t blow up my computer. I’m not a programmer so I can’t tell you what all that coding was about, but it was definitely some sort of HTML coding. Maybe his guy can look at it?
”
“I’ll text him about it.”
Violet’s face lights up. “Ooh, yeah. It gives you an excuse to text him.”
I smile slyly at my baby sis. “It sure does.”
I spend the next hour after Violet leaves straightening up my house. I dust, vacuum my rugs, and sort out my laundry. I’ll have to do a laundromat run soon. I’m down to my period panties and old sweatshirts. Pulling out my legal pad, I start a To Do list. 1) get a job, 2) do laundry, 3) text Ian, 4) groceries, 5) get a job, 6) call Dad. Tapping the pen against the paper, I try to think of more. When I can’t, I grab my phone. I can knock number three off the list right away.
Me: Hi Ian. This is Agatha. I forgot to show you another thumb drive I found in the box I brought home the day I was fired.
I don’t have to wait more than a couple of minutes.
Ian: Hi Agatha. This is Ian. ;)
Ha-ha.
Ian: What is on it? More invoices?
Me: No, a bunch of gobbledygook.
Ian: …
Ian: That’s a phrase I haven’t heard in a dog’s age.
I laugh out loud. See what he did there? He used an equally old phrase. Cute.
Me: Ha-ha.
Ian: What do you think this gobbledygook is?
Me: My sister says it’s HTML coding. You know, computer coding?
Ian: I see. Do you have it with you?
Me: Yes. Sorry, I forgot about it.
Ian: No worries. Would it be okay if I stop by after work today to get it? I can have Jason take a look at it tomorrow.
Me: Sure.
Oh, my God. He’s coming back.
Me: What time?
Ian: A little after five, give or take.
Me: Okay. Sure. I’ll have it ready for you.
Ian: Before I forget. Jason’s still working on your computer. I know he’s on to something because he keeps muttering things like, “Well, I’ll be…”
Me: LOL. How old is Jason?
Ian: Why?
Me: That’s an even older expressing than “Gobbledygook”.
