PALE Series Box Set

by Mac Flynn

"What? Permanently driving?"

  "No, staying at my house."

  "That might happen sometime, but I'd like a sleepover first to give that place a test drive."

  "Tonight?"

  "I just left all my clothes behind us, and my teddy bear."

  "You can wear my clothes, and I have a slightly used gnome you can hug."

  "No way. I don't really like the way that guy stares at me every time I undress."

  John turned the gnome so they faced each other, and he raised an eyebrow; John, that is, not the gnome. "If only I could see what he's seen."

  I rolled my eyes. "You've seen enough to be a naughty boy."

  He grinned. "So are you going to spank me?"

  "No, because you're going to behave from now on. I can't think straight when you're making a beeline for my clothes every second of every day."

  He showed as much remorse as a cat caught with the family canary in its mouth. "You give me too much credit, but if you were to move in with me then I could prove you right."

  "Ha! This is one time a woman doesn't want to be proved right," I replied.

  John sighed and turned the gnome to face the front of the car. "You make it very hard for me to not worry about you when I've seen where you live."

  "I'm sure I do."

  "And with these sexual innuendos."

  "You're the one who started it."

  "And you won't let me finish it for both of us."

  "Shouldn't you be worrying about that Monroe guy?" I reminded him.

  I regretted my words when a dark cloud washed over his humored expression; if he was a girl then rain of frustration would have poured out of his eyes. "That is a problem I would rather not talk about."

  "So if you can't talk to me about it, who can you talk to?" I countered. He gave me the cold shoulder by turning away; the draft was cold enough to chill a volcano. I decided he needed to snap out his brooding, so I jerked the wheel to the right. We bounced up onto the sidewalk and John let out a cry of terror that was echoed by Gnomy as he made a loud thudding noise when he hit the floor of the car. I veered off the sidewalk in time to avoid a fire hydrant, lamppost, and jaywalker. Actually, the guy wasn't jaywalking, but he did have the tenacity to be on the sidewalk where I was driving and dove out of the way.

  "Are you trying to kill us?" John shrieked. I didn't know he could go that high of an octave.

  "I'm trying to get you to not ignore me when I ask you difficult questions," I snapped back. "What if I asked you how many miles were around the equator? In your current brooding mood you could slip into a coma, so how about you just tell me everything that's bothering you and get it off your chest."

  "Not until my heart stops beating against my chest," he replied.

  "Stop being such a sissy and tell me what's wrong," I insisted. "I know you don't like the guy, but is he that bad? What were you two arguing about before I interrupted World War III?"

  "He wanted to see some of my personal documents related to the company. I didn't want that," John explained to me.

  "So after he learned you wouldn't share your toys, what then?"

  "He threatened me with company interference."

  "And naturally you really hated the idea of an interception in your life."

  John nodded. "Exactly. I told him-well, I schooled him on my swearing vocabulary and piqued his anger. That's when you showed up."

  "And none too soon. Any longer and you two would've been wearing each other on your throats," I commented.

  John sighed and his voice dropped to a whisper. "Yes, well, thinking back I'm glad you did come. Any physical violence between us would have caused worse trouble."

  "Domestic disputes usually do," I teased.

  His face was serious. "It might have made worse my position on the board. They have the votes to remove me from my position."

  My humor slipped away like a thief whose job was done. "But what about your stock?"

  "That's the only thing stopping them from removing me," he replied.

  "And achieving company domination," I added. "These guys are really something. They make Manson look like a massage therapist."

  "I don't know about that, but my worry is still with Monroe. If he was out of the way his coalition on the board would collapse, and Cecil and I would swing control back to us."

  "So I'm guessing there's no loophole or anything that would get Monroe off the board and out of the company?"

  "Not a one that Cecil and I can find."

  I sighed. "So we're stuck with the guy unless God intervenes or we give him a little push to meet his maker?"

  John snorted. "I wouldn't go so far as that. We'd have to deal with more than just the company authorities," he pointed out.

  "Then you're going to have to behave around him until you and Cecil find a way out of this mess," I told him. "No roughhousing, no arguing, and no attempted murder."

  "Yes, Mother," he teased. "But what if I'm a bad boy?" His hand slid over onto my leg; the car made a hard lurch to the right and he clutched onto his previous finger holds on the dashboard.

  "Then I'll have no choice but to punish you, and you won't like it," I playfully threatened.

  "Are you sure you're an Angel?" John asked me.

  I grinned. "I never said I was."

  CHAPTER 5

  We reached the house without any collisions, accident or otherwise, and went inside. John stripped off his black gear and we were just going into the study when my coat rang; it was my phone in the pocket. I dashed down the hall, grabbed it out, and, without looking at the number, answered it. "Hello?"

  "Hello, Trix, it's Will Tanner." My blood ran cold at the name, and the rest of me wanted to run, too. Fortunately, he was on the other side of a phone call; I didn't have too much to physically fear from him.

  I glanced where John stood; I turned away from him and lowered my voice. "What are you doing calling me? I told you to leave me alone," I spat out. I hoped the spittle reached him.

  If it did, he didn't notice. "I wanted to apologize for what I did last night. I shouldn't have been such a jerk."

  "No, you shouldn't have, but I accept your apology and just want you to leave me alone." I screamed and jumped when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I swirled around and glared at my attacker who stood next to me laughing; the sneak John had snuck up on me. He wouldn't be laughing when I told him I was going to become a nun.

  "Are you all right?" Will asked me. He sounded concerned, and I almost cared; almost.

  "It's nothing, just got scared by a big rat. These things at my apartment get pretty ugly." I glared at John, who smirked back. That nunnery was looking more and more tempting.

  "That's what I wanted to talk to you about," Will commented.

  "What? About my rat infestation?"

  "No, your apartment. I thought I'd meet you there and we could go out to dinner, my treat. What do you say?"

  I didn't want to say anything; I wanted to scream. Instead I kept my cool; it isn't easy lowering your body temperature from furious to mildly annoyed. "Listen, I don't want to have dinner with you. I don't even want to see you again, so could you just leave me alone?"

  "I'd say you were playing hard to get," he cooed.

  I nearly broke the phone over John's head, which would have taken care of two problems. "Listen, I don't want to go to dinner with you now or ever, you hear me? Now leave me ALONE!" I snapped the phone shut so hard the front glass window nearly cracked. John coughed, and I gave him the evil eye; he flinched back but no spontaneous combustion. I'd have to work on that eye, but at least I didn't have to clean up any mess. "What are you looking at?"

  "A terrifying monster," he quipped.

  "You should see me when I get up in the mornings. Then you'll know fear," I countered.

  "If the reward is waking up beside you then I'd be glad to go through the experience," he gallantly replied. "But off-topic, who was that?"

  "That was, um, my mom. She was wondering if I wanted to go
out with her tonight."

  He raised an eyebrow and nodded at the clamped-shut phone. "Do you always speak to your mom like that?"

  "No, usually we communicate with smoke signals, but this far out I'd have to set your lawn on fire."

  "I've noticed you've become snarkier of late. You asked me if something was bothering me, so can I ask if something is bothering you?"

  I grinned at him, and folded my arms across my chest. "You have my permission to ask me, but it doesn't mean you'll get an answer," I teased him.

  "So what's bothering you?"

  "Nothing."

  "Who was that on the phone?"

  "I told you, my mom."

  "I don't believe that for a moment. Who was it really?"

  "All right, I'll tell." I darted my eyes right and left, and hunched over. "Can you keep a secret?" I whispered to him. He nodded; I leaned closer, and he leaned closer. "It was Santa Claus. He was asking me if I'd been naughty or nice."

  John stood straight and rolled his eyes. "By the sounds of it I think I know which one he thought you were, but seriously, who was it?"

  I sighed and glared at the phone; again there was no earth-shattering kaboom. "It was some guy I met, okay? The one at the library."

  John raised an eyebrow taller than the Empire State Building, and with a tinge of jealousy-green on his windows. "What did he want?"

  I shrugged. "To go out to dinner, but you heard my answer."

  "Along with the rest of the countryside," he chuckled.

  "He's a little hard of hearing, so I thought I'd be loud." He hadn't heard me tell him off the first time; I had a bad feeling he hadn't heard me this time, either. "But anyway, back to work or are you going to try to play dolly with me and take off my clothes?" John looked interested in the dolly, but I held up a hand. "On second thought, maybe I should decide, and I decide we should get back to work."

  The humor in John's face slipped away when he glanced down the hall at the study door. A puzzled frown slipped onto his face. "I was going to ask you if you went into the study while I was dressing for the ride."s

  My face fell; a question like that always spelled trouble with a capital Oh-Crap. "No, why?"

  "I'm not sure." He walked down the hall and looked over the door. It was half open.

  I came up beside him. "What? You're not going to make that crack about the door being a jar, are you?"

  He shook his head. "I closed this door before we left."

  I glanced between John and the door; it was open. "You sure about that?"

  John gave a single nod; not two or three, but one. That meant this was serious. "I'm positive." He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  I followed and was still amazed by its cleanliness; there wasn't a thing out of single piece of paper out of line. "Looks fine."

  "That's exactly the problem. During our argument a-well, a few papers went flying."

  "You got mad and tossed stuff at him, didn't you?"

  "Yeah."

  "Anything heavy?"

  "Just papers. I hoped to slice his throat open with a paper cut."

  I took another look around the place; no papers out of order anywhere. "So there was a mess of papers-"

  "-and now there's not," he finished for me.

  I leaned to one side and noticed something sticking out of from beneath the desk. I pointed at a tidy pile of papers. "I think I found the evidence of your attempted murder."

  John went around the desk and picked up the pile of papers. His face was twisted in confusion. "I'm sure they were all over the floor."

  I patted his shoulder. "Maybe you were just wrong about the 'all over' part. They were on the floor."

  John frowned and shifted through the papers. "It gets worse."

  "Has the ink run?" I looked over his shoulder, but didn't see anything wrong with them. They were full of the same insensible numbers arranged in an order only an Inquisitor would understand. "Looks fine to me."

  "There are a few documents missing. Reports from the company regarding my stock."

  "I thought you put all your personal stuff in the safe?" I reminded him.

  He shook his head. "I had to keep these documents out because they have public information regarding the company. I thought to use the paper only to reference the information, and never intended for anyone else to see it. Apparently someone came inside and took it."

  "You sure there's stuff missing?" I persisted. I didn't want to believe it because that would mean trouble, and trouble of this caliber meant a big gun would go off when we found the culprit.

  John gave another one of those world-shattering nods. "Positive, and I'm also sure they weren't in a neat pile when they hit the floor."

  "Maybe a tidy rat came in from the fields and piled up the stuff for you. Did you lock all the doors before we left?"

  "Yes, and double-checked them. My life is in that safe and I don't want to lose it."

  I rubbed my chin and furrowed my brow. "It sounds like we have a mystery on our hands, Dr. Watson."

  He had enough humor left to frown at that title. "Why do I have to be Dr. Watson? Why can't I be Holmes?"

  "Elementary, my dear boy, you didn't call it first." I strolled around the room with my eyes on the floor. "Now let's see if we can find any clues." We didn't find any clues, and gave up the strolling because staring at the floor meant I kept knocking into the shelves. "You think our nemesis, Dr. Monroe, could have taken them?" I suggested.

  "Possibly, but I don't know how he came inside without a key," John pointed out.

  "Maybe we can hope he's dead and went through the walls," I suggested. He stared at me like I'd gone mad, which I had to admit wasn't too far off. "All right, maybe he picked the locks."

  "I can imagine him hiring someone to pick the locks, but not doing it himself," John countered.

  "Then he got someone to do it for him. I mean, who else knew those documents were in here in plain sight and not in the safe?" I pointed out.

  "Nobody else."

  "Then we have our woman."

  "Man."

  "Girly man?"

  "He's not effeminate."

  "What about an FM radio?"

  John sighed. "Never mind. The important thing is the documents were stolen and we have only an idea who took them."

  I solemnly nodded. "And I don't think he's going to confess. He'd lie to a priest if he thought it would get him into heaven."

  John collapsed into his chair, tossed the paperwork onto his desk, and ran his hand through his hair. "Then we're at an impasse."

  I shook my head. "Not if he does it again. We might be able to catch him in the act."

  John glanced up at me with a raised eyebrow. "I'm not sure I want to risk more documents falling into his hands."

  "We could set up some fake documents for him to swipe," I suggested. "You could make some overnight and set them out on the desk tomorrow to see if he steals them."

  "I don't think he'll be that foolish to steal in front of me," John argued.

  I shrugged and gestured to the pile of papers on the desk. "He didn't steal very well this time, why not the next time? It's not like he has a scanner in here he can use." John's office was missing a scanner to copy any documents.

  "We'll see," he half-heartedly agreed.

  I couldn't help but notice the weariness in his voice, and he looked exhausted. I walked behind him and rubbed his shoulders. "I'm sure we'll figure something out. In the meantime how about you get some rest?"

  John tilted his head back and showed off a wide, mischievous grin. "I would rather get some of you," he cooed.

  "But I'm not on the menu."

  "I could make room on my plate."

  "And in your bed?"

  "There's always room in my bed for one more."

  "Maybe there isn't."

  "Then I could always buy a bigger one."

  "Cheater."

  "That's one of the benefits of being rich."

  "Filthy rich," I corr
ected him. "Which is something I'm not, so I'll leave you to your large bed-"

  "-large, lonely bed," he corrected me.

  I rolled my eyes. "Hug Gnomy. He needs the attention." The neglected gnome had walked into the study with us and sat on the end of the desk.

  John scowled at the object; I hoped Gnomy didn't take it personally. "I would rather warm up to something more pliable."

  "Then get a hunk of plywood. I have to get home and do some paper writing." John swung around and tried to capture me, but I alluded his clutches and sprang to the door. "You and Gnomy have fun!" I called to him before I disappeared into the hall.

  I raced down the corridor, grabbed my stuff and dashed through the front door. My new car awaited my return with open doors, and I slid into the driver's seat with all the confidence of a giddy high schooler with a newly minted driver's license. I shot off down the road and cruised at a speed close to the limit, plus or minus twenty miles an hour; mostly plus. I arrived back at my apartment at sundown, cursed the early fall sunset for robbing me of my vitamin D, and went up to my apartment.

  The hallway of my floor was dimly lit because my landlord was too cheap to replace the dim, dying bulbs. My hole in the wall lay at the far end of the hall, and when I came up to the door with my key in my hand I realized that I wouldn't be needing it. The entrance lay open a few inches, and the knob hung off the door like an executed criminal. I don't know what his crime was other than being a knob on my door, but judging by the mangled lock it must have been a horribly painful end.

  I leaned over to look into the apartment, and I didn't like what I saw. Through the thin opening I saw overturned furniture and tables. The windows at the opposite end were busted, my television lay on the floor, broken and battered. I stepped back, whipped out my phone and dialed 911; there was no way I was going in there without backup.

  "This is 911, how can we help you?" a lady answered.

  "My apartment was broken into and the person might still be in there." For all I knew he could be just behind the door; I stepped back a couple of yards to give him room in case he wanted to flee the scene.

  "And where are you?"

  "The Upscale Apartments." There was never a more inappropriate name for a rundown shanty of a place. "Apartment 211 on the third floor."

  "All right, we'll send over a few police officers. They should arrive soon."

  I was tempted to school the dispatcher about her use of the word 'soon' when the police arrived thirty minutes later. They were disinterested in my predicament until I showed them the damage on the door; then they believed me. They raided the place with guns out and pointed at every piece of upturned furniture; fortunately for the furniture they weren't armed, but the culprit was nowhere to be found. I found the place was in a bigger wreck in my bedroom. The intruder had torn apart my underwear drawer and tossed everything onto the floor. I would need to burn all that stuff after it was out of evidence impound. Looking over all my trashed possessions it was hard to discern if anything was missing, but I did find a stash of my money was gone from my sock drawer; everything else in the place was worth so little I'd have to pay someone to buy it.