Command Indecision (Lexi Graves Mysteries)

by Camilla Chafer

  Command Indecision

  Lexi Graves Mysteries, Book 3

  Camilla Chafer

  Command Indecision

  Copyright: Camilla Chafer

  Published: August 2012

  Publisher: Audacious

  The right of Camilla Chafer to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

  Visit the author online at www.camillachafer.com to sign up to her newsletter and for more information on other titles.

  Other books:

  Lexi Graves Mysteries:

  Armed & Fabulous

  Who Glares Wins

  Command Indecision

  Stella Mayweather Series (Urban Fantasy):

  Illicit Magic

  Unruly Magic

  Devious Magic

  Magic Rising

  Command Indecision

  A young woman is dead. The main suspect is in custody. And Private Investigator, Lexi Graves is on the warpath.

  Lexi finally feels like her life is on track. With a great job that is made to measure and the perfect boyfriend, it takes all of a few shocking minutes for everything to start falling apart.

  Angry and hurt at her boyfriend, Detective Adam Maddox, and his apparent betrayal, Lexi embarks on an undercover job at a nearby military base. Charged with finding evidence that the man accused of killing the young civilian employee isn’t the real murderer, Lexi just hopes to lose herself in the case. She wants to put the past behind her and heal her broken heart.

  Maddox, however, keeps popping up during her investigation; and her boss, the mysterious Solomon, appears to be the perfect tonic for her heartache. Lexi soon finds it increasingly hard to keep her mind on the job.

  As clues point towards the victim’s dangerous double life, the secrets mount, and time is running out. With Maddox’s betrayal not all it seemed, it’s up to Lexi to learn the truth, and put the real murderer behind bars.

  Chapter One

  Our private pow-wow every day at the Solomon Agency conference room was one of the few times when all the staff collaborated. That is, if collaboration included eating a box of donuts in ten minutes flat because I didn’t. So, not a whole lot else was going on around the table of the small boardroom. Ever since my colleagues discovered that I not only could handle the cases by myself, but also solved three on the go, they were speaking to me with a modicum of respect.

  "These donuts taste like shit," muttered Lucas Givens, our resident tech geek and ex-criminal. He swallowed the last bite of a pink sprinkle donut.

  I did say “modicum.”

  "Sorry. I forgot how testy you got when all the maple crullers are gone," I snipped back as I peered into the box. It was empty, but for a meager dusting of sugar.

  The meeting wasn't just about sampling donuts. Our daily catch-ups kept us all clued in on the cases the agency was handling, and the resources needed. Other than that, we largely worked alone or in pairs, which suited me just fine. We'd yet to take on a full team op, that I knew about anyway. Somehow, I still didn't think I was getting the full deal about our caseload. I was fairly certain Solomon, my boss and irresistible lust interest, took other jobs that he didn't mention, at least, to me. Occasionally, I got a whiff of suspicion that the others might be working on secret stuff with him. But they never said and I never asked. Instead, I kept my eyes open and my ears perked because sooner or later, one of them would drop the ball. Until then, I fought an inner struggle as to whether I should care, or not give two figs that they still kept some “boys’ club only” secret.

  The sugar buzz could have made me paranoid, of course.

  Today's meeting seemed to be skipping along at its usual pace. Steve Fletcher, ex-CIA man and pain-in-the-butt, was still working on his current surveillance case. Lucas was overwhelmed at dealing with our many requests for information, as per usual, but seeming to enjoy it. Or in his words: "I haven't been arrested this year, so, awesome." Tony Delgado's case got approved after running through the top line details. His hard, angular face was pinched with concentration.

  “I’m out of here,” Fletcher mumbled through a yawn he stifled with the back of his hand. He waved at us as he backed out of the office. Solomon looked up from his paperwork, nodded, and returned to the case file he was reading.

  I tapped my fingers against my leg and held back my yawn by biting the insides of my cheeks and pulling a face. I had nothing, which sucked. Not even a pro bono case, otherwise known as the “no-hopers” that no one saw any merit in other than I. As per my agreement with Solomon, which had something to do with simultaneously solving three cases, I got to pick a no-hoper pro bono if I saw one that intrigued me. But it seemed like there wasn't a lot of crime happening in Montgomery right now. No bosses needed us to snoop on employees potentially defrauding them; there were no cheating spouses or missing persons; or cold cases that needed fresh eyes. Either the criminals had given up or just gotten smarter. Personally, I thought they were probably on a break. It would give me time to catch up on a few personal things, like, oh, having a life. I wasn't the only one; Fletcher looked about ready to fall asleep before he took off. Matt Flaherty, an ex-detective who was rendered an invalid and taken off the force by the lasting effects of a bullet, was making noises about going home and painting his house, and Lucas was licking the sugar from his fingers.

  From beginning to end, our meeting took only ten minutes, so when I got up to file out after my colleagues, I was expecting to tootle home and do nothing, or hang with my best gal pal, Lily Shuler. I hoped to take advantage of her downtime and my boyfriend’s work schedule, since he was currently undercover. Such was the nature of our work. I could work non-stop on a case, evenings and weekends included; then hit a dry spell, which even made my laundry look interesting. Fortunately, I had better plans: they involved Lily, a bottle of tequila, and a bucket of limes. Lily texted me to let me know it would be “epic.”

  "Lexi?" Solomon's voice stopped me as I picked up the empty donut box. I was ready to trash it before I exited the office, hot on Lucas’ heels.

  "Yup?" I plastered a smile on my face, turning back to him as Flaherty squeezed past.

  "Close the door."

  Oh no. The last time we had a “close the door” conversation, it resulted with me getting furious and insulted. My heart plummeted as I tapped the door shut and took Fletcher's vacated seat. Apparently, none of my colleagues could figure out why Solomon had hired a formerly-blonde bimbo who wore cute, little skirts and high heels. Since that time, I'd been wearing pants or jeans, (still with heels because I do have standards), and I solved a bunch of cases. Right now, they could suck it. Tequila not included. I could wear whatever I liked.

  "I've got a job that I want you to work on with me," said Solomon, cutting into my internal indignation.

  "Oh?" That was a surprise. I blinked. Twice.

  Solomon glanced up, his liquid chocolate eyes roaming briefly and alighting on me, but giving nothing away. "But it's something that you can refuse."

  I was intrigued. Solomon wasn't keen on the word “no.” He definitely liked the word “yes.” I occasionally had the fleeting thought that he probably liked “yes, yes, yes!” a whole lot, not that I'd ever found myself in a position with him where that slipped from my mouth! I'd been firm on that front. Our relationship w
as strictly professional; plus, I had a boyfriend: Adam Maddox, detective, hottie and all around good guy. The very thought of him could make my heart sing.

  "Go on," I said. The door swung shut with a light click.

  "An old friend of mine at Fort Charles requested our help. There was a murder last week and the main suspect is in custody."

  "So why do they want to hire us?" I asked, cutting to the chase.

  Solomon leaned back in his chair, his eyes running over me for a long moment, long enough to make me shiver. Then he answered. "My friend thinks they've got the wrong guy."

  "Isn't this a military police case?" I asked. My eyebrows were pinched together as I thought of everything I knew about Fort Charles. I had a vague mental image of a sprawling compound, around thirty miles south of Montgomery. It housed a sizeable population of serving Army personnel, their families, and civilian workers. Every so often, the soldiers would whoop it up in Montgomery, drink the town dry, and wake up in the wrong beds. Then there would be a crackdown, during which we wouldn't see them again for months. It was something my best friend, Lily, used to lament before she started dating my brother, Jord. Now she only had eyes for him. And he’d become a soppy idiot.

  "The military police are involved, but we're not being hired by them," Solomon explained as he flipped a page. "The suspect is a sergeant who works in the gym. Nathaniel Tate. The person killed was a civilian working on base."

  "Some kind of argument?" I asked. I don't know why I bothered. If it had been a simple misunderstanding, Solomon would have said so. And he wouldn't have even brought it up, because we wouldn't have been hired. I haven't known Solomon for too long, but I do know he likes an interesting case.

  Solomon shook his head. "Doesn't seem to be. They were known to each other, but nothing extra special from what my man tells me. The victim was a woman."

  "Was there some kind of fight?" Ah, a spark in his eyes. Bingo.

  "Apparently, there was an argument a few hours before the murder, but it's unconfirmed, as of yet. The suspect isn't cooperating."

  I rested my back against the door jamb and contemplated that. "If the military police can't get him to mouth off, why does your friend think we can?"

  "He doesn't. He wants me undercover. I'm going to be talking to everyone else."

  I had to admit, as much I thought myself pretty solid during investigations, I felt this was more of a case for one of my colleagues. Aside from my brief skirmish with the Army, which ended at boot camp, I wasn't what anyone would call a “hard-ass.” I'm slight and pretty, and I favor nice dresses and heels, and I like to look groomed, not drenched in sweat on a run. I don't like camo much. It doesn’t match my eyes. I don't enjoy macho man-posturing, unless it's for my benefit; and I definitely don't like the Army. It's too muddy. Literally. I decided against it on my first mud crawl and flunked out. However, I doubted Solomon much cared what I thought of military fashion. "Wouldn't Fletcher or Delgado be better for this?" As soon as I said it, I realized he would already have asked them if he thought so, which begged the question, why ask me?

  As I pushed off the wall, pulling out a chair, Solomon replied, "I thought a woman would be better on this one."

  The one occasion where my boobs won.

  Solomon thought it quite advantageous to have a woman on staff. He believed I could get into places or talk to people where big, hard-looking men, (i.e. my colleagues), couldn't. The only reason I found for Solomon to hire me over a female ex-cop or an experienced investigator was because he had a soft spot for me… That and because he found a brain he liked, mine, one he could mold to his own style of investigating. He also admitted he liked to look at my legs in the office, but I'm not sure if he was joking. I suspected not.

  "Why's that?"

  "The victim was a woman,” Solomon answered, rifling his file and coming up with a photo, which he held up. “This is Jillian Connor. She was working on base part-time, temping. Stands to reason the people she would talk to most, and socialize with, would be other women, and most likely, civilians."

  Possibly sexist, but not necessarily untrue. I like to think that I could get along with anyone, but I have three older brothers, all cops, and I can hold my own with any mouthy uniform. But this was Fort Charles, where testosterone-laden Army boys were so butch, it hurt. They were probably all big mommas’ boys in truth, but I couldn't see them having long heart-to-hearts with a civilian female temp.

  "So you want me to go undercover and get friendly with her pals?" I guessed.

  "That's about it."

  "How long will it take?"

  I think Solomon must've heard the sigh in my question, or perhaps, the longing for the tequila slammers, because he said, "A couple weeks, maybe, and the pay will be shit. Basic, with no percentage. That's why I said you could refuse it."

  A couple of weeks. It didn't sound so bad, except I hadn't seen Maddox in a little over four weeks, as he was out of town on an undercover op. What he was doing undercover I didn't know because Maddox didn't share that kind of information with me. It was now two weeks since we'd last spoken. I left a couple of messages on his answering service, which he hadn't returned. I was resisting the urge to leave another, in case he thought I was needy, which I wasn't. I just missed him. From what he said during our last, fleeting conversation, there was a good chance that he would come home in the next two weeks. I didn't want to miss that by being out of town on a stake-out. Plus, I was as horny as hell with high hopes for absolutely no sleep within the first twenty-four hours that Maddox got off duty.

  That wasn't needy. That was planning ahead.

  "I'm gonna go with no," I said. I wanted to keep it simple because if Solomon thought I was giving up on an undercover op so I could play under-the-covers-ops with my boyfriend, he might question my commitment to the job. Also, it was better if he thought the “basic, with no percentage” he casually tossed out was the real problem. The Solomon Agency paid my salary, which covered my rent, utilities, and a few other basics, but the completion percentage was the bonus that made life more fun and the inconsistencies of the job more tolerable.

  "Not a problem," Solomon said, with no hint of annoyance. The brief thought that I wondered where he would find another woman, and who she might be, flashed through my mind, but I ignored it. As I got to my feet, he pulled another file out while holding a hand up, stopping me. I sank back down again and tried not to huff in exasperation. "I need you to do some simple surveillance tonight. Can you manage that?"

  "Yes." I frowned at the way his voice cooled. "I guess."

  Solomon passed me the file. I opened it, taking a cursory glance through. "Possible cheating spouse case. I've been following Don Hassell a couple weeks and there's nothing on him. I think he's clean. A workaholic. The wife thinks he's got some fancy dinner with a mistress tonight. I need you to scope it out, get some pictures. Everything's in the file. You still got the camera?"

  "In my trunk."

  "Good. Restaurant details are in the file. The wife heard him booking the restaurant for eight. Get there by seven thirty at the latest."

  "No problem." This time when I got to my feet, Solomon didn't stop me; but as I turned the door handle, he said, "If you change your mind, call me. I want to go to Fort Charles tomorrow. I'll be back in the office when I can, but you can get me on my cell phone if you need me otherwise."

  I glanced back at Solomon, but he had already buried his head in the file, dismissing me. "Sure," I said, taking the file with me as I returned to my desk. Leaning back in my padded leather office chair, my boots resting on the lip of the desk, I read through the file, slowly this time. Solomon, as always, was very thorough. I read through the initial case document the wife filled out when she secured the agency’s services. It was where we got all her details regarding the job, in this case, her husband. Then I flipped through Solomon's neat, handwritten notes documenting the movements of the man he'd surveilled. Nothing interesting. Could be that the wife was paranoid, or that S
olomon just hadn't gotten lucky yet.

  I checked my watch. Five p.m. I knew the restaurant, Alessandro's, and exactly how to find it. That gave me two hours to kill before I'd have to make my way there. Just long enough to get some groceries, go home, and get back out on the road. It should be enough to distract me from why Maddox hadn't called me yet.

  I knew going undercover could be hard on a cop. Funnily enough, we met while he was undercover. Back then, he was Adam Sheppard, sexy-but-annoying manager at the insurance company where I temped. It was only after we witnessed the murder of our CEO that he confessed he was a local detective, investigating a multi-million fraud, a case that I ultimately cracked.

  During the same investigation, I met Solomon, who was working the joint taskforce with Maddox. According to Maddox, however, no one really knew who the hell Solomon was or whom he really worked for. That was how I ended up with this job. I thought a few things about Solomon too, because I had a pulse and he was honest-to-goodness, smokin' hot. But as things turned out, Maddox became my boyfriend and Solomon was my boss, which worked out pretty well for me. Both my days and evenings were now considerably more fun than they had been just a few short months ago.

  So I had some sympathy for the strenuous nature of the job an undercover cop had to endure, but surely he got some time off from his suspects? He couldn't be with them twenty-four/seven. Didn't he take bathroom breaks? Or go to bed? Or lie and say he was going to the store for some gum or something, so he could call his girlfriend, aka me?

  I missed him and, without being sappy, I hoped he was missing me too.

  I powered down my laptop and stuck it in the desk drawer, which I locked. Grabbing the file and my purse, I called out goodbye to my colleagues, and headed to the underground parking lot to get my VW.

  Traffic was a bitch with everyone apparently leaving their buildings the same time as I, but I managed a swift grocery run, a visit to the gas station and a hot coffee to go. It was still warm by the time I dumped my shopping in my second story West Montgomery apartment and turned back to hunt my mark.