Baker's Dozen

by Amey Zeigler

  This would be a challenging task but she owed the family since they paid her so generously for Carla’s private lessons.

  “What a relief, Amanda. And of course, I’d gladly pay your expenses and for your time.”

  “Thank you,” Andy said, graciously. You don’t turn away money for your time and expenses.

  “You know my son, Scott.”

  Was this a trick question? He was one of the most eligible bachelors in the Harvard MBA program right now. Not only was he hot, but he had a brilliant mind for strategy, a knack for new technology, and was expected to inherit his father’s manufacturing business when he graduated. Hardworking and driven, even without his money and connections, he would’ve earned his way into any Ivy League school.

  They had met a few times. Although Andy had a rule never to crush on a best friend’s brother, it was tempting to make an exception for Scott. But Scott was so out of her league, and they rarely crossed paths. Still, Carla sometimes told her little things about him. What interesting new ventures he wanted to invest in. How he asked about Andy all the time. Andy recalled their last conversation.

  “You haven’t told him I’m Andrew Baker have you? Because you promised to keep my secret.”

  “Of course not! But it would up your wow factor in his eyes. He asks about you all the time. I think he’s into you.”

  “Uh, Carla, guys like your brother don’t go for girls like me. I know you like guys in my class, but your brother dates debutants.” In “America’s 50 Most Eligible Bachelors” by Gossip magazine, he ranked third.

  “He thinks you’re smart.”

  “How would he know?”

  “Because I told him.”

  Andy had shaken her head then, but now on the phone, the prospect of seeing him intrigued her.

  Andy’s heart beat a little quicker when she spoke to Mrs. Vehemia. “Yes, I believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting him a few times, with Carla.”

  “Oh.” Her voice was strained. “He was supposed to graduate and direct the business affairs of Vehemia Manufacturing. If only he hadn’t gotten himself into this predicament.”

  Andy stopped. She wasn’t a lawyer. “What kind of predicament?”

  Mrs. Vehemia’s voice cracked as she began. “He’s so diligent in his studies. I know it’s stressful. But I guess the stress got to him.”

  “Stress?” Andy asked.

  “Well, one night before a particularly difficult exam, he just went crazy.”

  “What do you mean crazy?”

  She said something in the phone Andy strained to hear.

  “Uh, I didn’t catch that.”

  Mrs. Vehemia whispered again, but Andy didn’t want to pain her by asking her again. In agony, she racked her brain to figure the cadence of the sentence. She didn’t make sense. It sounded like…

  “He ate his own flesh?” Andy half whispered, half questioned, disbelieving her own ears. But the barrage of tears from Mrs. Vehemia confirmed it. Andy’s stomach lurched. Self-cannibalism. No wonder she didn’t want it splashed all over People magazine.

  “There’s more. He terrorized some students, taking bites out of them.”

  Andy recoiled in horror. Speechless, she just listened.

  “You must promise never to tell anyone. We’ve already paid a lot of money to the victims not to tell the news about this incident.”

  “I promise.”

  “I didn’t know where to turn. Carla said she trusts you.”

  “Thank you for your trust.” Andy paused, unsure what to do next.

  “Normally, I’d ask for references, but in this case, if Carla feels you are qualified, I’m satisfied. The less the professionals know, the better.”

  Andy wasn’t offended Mrs. Vehemia didn’t consider her professional. “What would you like me to do?”

  “Find out what is wrong.” Andy’s heart sank. There were a few lines you should never cross when you do investigations. Investigating family secrets of your best friend had to be in at least the top three. Especially when they were rich and powerful.

  If she could find the jump drive and expose Imperium, maybe she could invest the time, but she was still working on plans on how to get in the T-Building. “What kind of information were you hoping to find out?”

  “I don’t know. I just know something’s not right. We don’t have crazy in our family. A little anxiety, maybe. But don’t we all? Maybe someone drugged him and…” It was too horrible for her to get out. “Are they competitive? Was he feeling too much pressure? It certainly didn’t come from us. We never forced him. I just don’t understand.”

  “Was it possible your son was doing drugs?”

  “No. He is studious and hardworking.”

  Andy’s heart ached. Any mother would be grateful to have her son exonerated. “I would love to help you. As soon as I can get to Boston, I will.”

  Mrs. Vehemia’s voice cheered a bit. “I’ve set up a flight voucher for you to fly at any time. You just have to call for the first available flight. And I’ve sent some funds to your account for expenses. Just be as discreet as you can.”

  Andy already had too much on her plate right now. But she accepted. Relief flooded Mrs. Vehemia’s voice “Thank you, Amanda.”

  After hanging up, Andy scrolled through searches for any news on Scott. Image after image of one of the most sought-after men flipped on her screen. One snapshot with a movie star, this next one with a model and a pimped-out car. This one he wore a blazer with a careless smile, his hair tossed and gelled. It would be a lie to say she didn’t enjoy her homework.

  ****

  Three days later, Andy readied to stake out the T-Building for possible entry points. She was tired of being in this dingy hotel infested with cockroaches. Try as she might, she could not kill them.

  She flipped to the news as she dressed in black. Depressing really. Nothing ever positive in the news. But it was chatter. It wrapped her in safety somehow, hearing the voices. As Andy swooped up her hair, a name caught her attention on the news.

  “…Jack Reynolds from Shaft Auto was found in his apartment from an apparent suicide.”

  Andy jerked her head to the TV. The screen showed the outside of Jack’s apartment with yellow police tape wrapped around the New Orleans-style lattice. A roiling in her heart made her ill. The newscaster continued. “Mr. Reynolds’s property manager found him this evening strung to the shower rod. The manager checked on the tenant as he was behind on his rent, finally opening the door to find his body.

  “The only clue was a hastily scrawled suicide note saying, ‘For Andrew Baker.’ Police can only speculate he was upset about the article Mr. Baker ran in the local press last week accusing him of fraud and tax evasion. Shaft Auto planned to file for bankruptcy after the many threats of court action from customers. In other news…”

  Andy shuddered. She couldn’t speak. Andy’s heart churned. She almost didn’t register her cell phone ringing. In a daze, she answered it without checking the caller ID.

  “Have you seen the news?” It was her editor, Mr. Hershal. She nodded. He continued without her verbal response. “I think the bad publicity isn’t going to help the newspaper.”

  With the phone still to her ear, Andy changed the channel to another news station also reporting the story.

  “And have you seen your Twitter feed? It’s blown up.” Andy grabbed her phone, scrolling through the blaming #bakerkills. People called for her to be fired. Her heart lunged, her face flamed red. Mr. Hershal continued. “I think we’d better lay off the Andrew Baker column for a while. Not permanently. We’ll write our regrets, of course.” Andy barely grasped what he said.

  “I killed him,” Andy said at last, her eyes hot with fresh tears. Her nose stung. “I ratted out his business, and it killed him.”

  “I wouldn’t listen to all the social media babble.”

  Andy plopped down on the bed, her chest tight with anguish.

  “Consider it a leave of absence,” her editor
said. Andy snapped to attention.

  “You mean, no more Andrew Baker.”

  “Not for a while. A few months maybe. Until this whole thing has died down.”

  Andy nodded into the phone, her voice swollen with tears.

  “I’ll call you when this has blown over,” he said at last.

  An awkward goodbye passed on both ends.

  Andy stared at the TV, the images of police and hazard tape all over his apartment complex. Interviewing a neighbor.

  A knock sounded at the door. She ignored it.

  Tyler strode into the room.

  “You pick locks, too?” she asked.

  “I told them you were my girlfriend. They gave me a key.”

  “What are you doing here?” Andy stood ready for a fight.

  “This.” He nodded toward the news story, then flicked off the TV with the remote.

  Andy’s heart burned. “Go away. I don’t need your help. I’m a professional.”

  Tyler didn’t say anything. Andy didn’t feel very professional. Her mark killed himself for what she exposed. It was haunting. Not just the news, but in her mind an image of Jack, swinging, hanging from the shower rail. Acid boiled up in her stomach. She couldn’t pass the image out of her mind.

  “Someone left you a calling card,” Tyler said, so matter-of-fact, so unemotional.

  “Huh?” Andy wished he’d go away and let her feel unprofessional and sick all by herself.

  “He didn’t commit suicide.”

  Andy may have been in shock but she understood. “How can you be sure?”

  “Someone wants Andrew Baker.”

  Goosebumps pricked Andy’s skin.

  “When you investigated Jack’s tax evasion and fraud, was he acting on his own?”

  “I don’t really know. There was money coming from an unknown corporate source only marked as ‘Bearing Inc.’ on the books.” Andy didn’t have time to track down all the weird things on Jack’s books. She wanted the evidence of fraud, found the tax evasion which was enough.

  “Money has to come from somewhere. These little stores are usually a front for bigger operations. What have you stumbled onto, Miss Andy Baker?”

  Andy bit her lip. Even with all her precautions, she might have bitten off more than she could chew.

  “And speaking of money, Ms. Baker. Where are you going to get yours? Your job has dried up for the time being, and I happen to know the dojo gig doesn’t pay much. Where are you going to get resources now?”

  He folded his arms across his chest, thrusting out his chin, his eyes gleaming. He won. He knew too much.

  “How did you know this?” Probably bugged her phone. Andy hated him for needing him. Hated him for being so attractive and likable.

  “You noticed a few cockroaches around?”

  “I complained to the manager about them.”

  “They’re bugs.”

  “Of course they’re bugs.” Then it dawned on her. “Bugs, right. What do you want from me?”

  Tyler gave her a sideways glance.

  She grunted. “You want the entry code.”

  “Yup.”

  “Then I want a place to stay. Full disclosure. And a new wardrobe. And some operating cash. And no more spying.”

  He smiled. “Welcome to our team.”

  ****

  Tyler dropped her off at a little condo they rented for her two blocks north of his place. “Here’s the deal,” she said, hand on the car door. “About the entry code.”

  He proffered his hand. “I’ll take it now, if you want.”

  Andy shook her head. “No deal. I will give it only after we are safely inside the T-Building.”

  “And who is going to get us inside?”

  “I am.”

  Tyler raised an eyebrow.

  Before opening the door, she said, “Find out what you can about Imperium from your side, and we’ll meet tomorrow.”

  Tyler smiled as Andy opened the door. She knew how to maintain control.

  “Sure you don’t want to leave it to us?” he asked. “The professionals.”

  “I’m a professional.”

  He smirked. She slammed the door. Tyler returned to his loft.

  Their next meeting at the refurbished condo was more pleasant. When he entered, Andy was studying a map of the T-Building spread like a tablecloth over a granite-covered island. Carla sipped a latte on the cappuccino-colored barstools.

  “What did you find out from the FBI about Imperium?” she asked.

  Tyler consulted his phone. “Locals. Powerful men who run things, own things. They manipulate laws, businesses. The list of men is highly secretive. We don’t know who the leaders are or what their goals are.”

  “You’re thinking the leader is Tyrone?” she asked.

  He nodded. “He’s already got one strike against him.”

  “Our game plan is to retrieve the jump drive,” Andy said.

  Tyler eyed Carla, who sat in the corner, texting someone on the phone. “Why is she here?”

  “She’s on my team.”

  Tyler scowled. “Okay, how do we get in to Tyrone’s building?”

  Andy threw up her hands. “I don’t know. It’s impossible. I did a quick rundown of the building. Nobody can get past his security. These people pride themselves on being able to hire people who know how to keep enemies at bay. What about just breaking in? You have tech?”

  Tyler tucked his hands under his armpits, which made his biceps bulge. “Even with government resources, we couldn’t get through. His security system outranks anything the government has, so no breaking in. His detail, the men working for him, are ruthless gunmen. I was thinking you could go as a cleaning lady.”

  Andy shook her head. “It takes a year to get staffed there. Tyrone requires thorough background checks and usually they need to be related to someone to be hired, or even considered.” This was how Brad got hired. His dad had worked at the office. “Hiring requirements are more strict than a government job,” Andy said, smirking.

  “Har, har. How about window washers? Those have to be contracted out.”

  “They do. In fact, I checked and they have a bi-monthly contract…” Tyler hoped for an in. “With his brother’s company.”

  He sat back. “So, no getting hired on there.”

  She shook his head. “Unless you’re related, no. I know hundreds of ways of getting in buildings. I’ve done FedEx, a client, new hire, carpet cleaners, IT consultants, EMT, electrical engineers, building inspectors, union bosses.” He shook his head at each mention, but he was still impressed. Although she was still an amateur.

  “Florist?” he asked.

  “They drop the flowers off at the front desk. You’re not going to get much farther.”

  He leaned back on the patterned sofa, showing off his extremely toned chest through his shirt. “Man, Andy. I don’t know how we’re going to get in his building.”

  “What building?” Carla asked, glued to her phone.

  Tyler glanced at her. “Really, you’ve been here this whole time and you don’t know what we’re talking about?”

  Carla blinked innocently over her iced latte.

  “You’re talking about the T-Building, right?” Carla asked, glancing up briefly through her eyelash implants.

  He gave an impatient nod.

  “And you want to get in?” Carla continued. “You want to go when no one is paying attention to security but everyone is there.”

  “Are you the Sphinx talking in riddles?” he asked with slight impatience.

  Carla ignored him. “Easy. You only need an invitation.”

  “Okay, when she starts making sense, will someone please translate?” Tyler held his head high, using a patronizing tone.

  She smiled slyly, relishing the moment. “You need to go to Hazel Tyrone’s engagement party.”

  Andy’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. “Engagement party?”

  “Everybody who’s anybody’s going to be there.”


  “How do you know?” Tyler asked.

  Carla held out her purse. Unclasping the latch, she dug around in her Vuitton bag, producing a lush embossed paper with a gold seal. She flipped it back and forth in front of Tyler’s face. “Because I have an invitation.”

  Tyler snatched it from her. In one week, Hazel Tyrone was throwing a shin-dig. Carla’s invite included a plus one. “At the Grand Ballroom in the T-Building.”

  “Hazel knows how to plan and execute in epic proportions,” Carla said. She waved at it like it was trash. “I have a prior engagement and have no interest in going to a stuffy party or breaking and entering. So you may use it.”

  “It’s the perfect way in. Want to be my plus one?” Tyler asked.

  Andy was already calculating the cost of a disguise so complete. “There’s waxing and heels and panty hose and an appointment at a salon and a very expensive, custom-made dress.”

  “Whatever you need, my boss will pay for it.”

  Andy’s expression relaxed but was still grumpy.

  “And the best part, I’ll be your date.” He gauged her reaction. Andy’s gaze slid sideways to him. He grinned and bowed. “I’ll be the perfect gentleman.”

  “You’d better.”

  “Or not, if you prefer.”

  She side kicked him. Not hard. Just hard enough to let him know she was serious.

  “Walk me home?” Tyler asked, nudging her with his elbow when they finished hashing out the details.

  “You afraid to go home alone?” Andy teased.

  “I think you’re the scariest thing in this ’hood.” He smiled back. “I want to talk.”

  Andy enjoyed the crisp night air.

  “How come you didn’t tell me Carla has so many connections?” he asked.

  “I didn’t know myself.”

  “Right. You’ve known her for how long and you didn’t know her dad is connected to Tyrone? You don’t think she could be connected with Imperium do you?”

  Andy scowled. “I’ve known Carla and her parents for seven years. They are not killers.”

  Tyler conceded and changed the subject. “I’m excited to go with you all dressed up. It’s nice to have a beautiful girl on the arm.”

  “Oh, yeah? Isn’t that every guy’s dream?”

  “Not me.” He paused. “I want two at my side, like a pair of cufflinks.”