Command Indecision (Lexi Graves Mysteries)

by Camilla Chafer

  Parking spaces were easy to find this time of day, so I took my time while driving past to eyeball the best spots for viewing Alessandro's before swinging around and gliding into a space. It was a good place to eat. Smart, sophisticated, pricey. It catered to ladies who lunched, decent dates and making good impressions. I'd been there a few times and my sister, Serena, was a regular until she had a baby and instigated a divorce from her philandering husband.

  Solomon seemed to think the mark was a sure thing. With some luck, I wouldn't have to waste my whole evening freezing my butt off in the car when I could be doing something more useful. Like painting my nails, or, or... I couldn't think of anything and that was sad. Had my life suddenly come to this? Where it was more interesting to hang out on the side of a street, waiting to snap surveillance photos of some scumbag? No, wait. I'd forgotten Lily.

  Pulling a face, I rummaged in my jacket pocket for my phone and called her.

  "Are you ready?" she screamed down the line. I held my phone at arm's length from my ear.

  "I can't make it until later," I told her as I checked out the pedestrians. "I got stuck with a surveillance job. I should be done by eight thirty. I’ll be back around nine."

  "No problemo, dudette. Don't be late. Tequila waits for no woman."

  "Don't start without me."

  I hung up, sighing at my bad luck as I fiddled with my camera. I retrieved it from my trunk earlier, pulling off the lens cap while simultaneously continuing to scan the area. No sign of Don Hassell on the street yet. Maybe he was already inside one of the coffee houses, or browsing some of the boutiques. I checked the photo. Don was a chubby businessman in his late forties. Nice, navy blue suit, crisp, white shirt and blue striped tie. He was losing his hair and the years hadn't been kind; he had jowls and a red nose. No, not a boutique man. Maybe a bar?

  All the same, I started with the buildings closest to me, running my eyes over the various people taking seats and approaching the bars. No one fit his description. Twisting in my seat, I turned to the sidewalk across the street. It seemed like it was predominantly a late, after-work crowd tonight; the men and women were mostly still suited, a few couples on dates, but not many yet.

  And that's when I saw them.

  He wore dark pants and an open-necked, blue shirt underneath a smart sports coat. His hair was beginning to get a slightly unruly look from his obvious avoidance of the barber. His arm was slung around a pretty woman. She looked a couple years older than I, with a sweetheart face and dark hair drawn back in a ponytail that swung in a smooth, glossy wave behind her. I felt my heart stop as she reached up and patted his hand. He smiled down at her affectionately before opening the restaurant door and ushering her in.

  If this were my surveillance guy, I would have been happily snapping away, but it wasn't. This was Adam Maddox, and I think my heart might have stopped for a moment or two. I watched, transfixed, as a waitress took my boyfriend and the pretty woman to a table where another couple waited. I stared, nearly catatonic, as the four shook hands and exchanged kisses.

  If I weren't mistaken, my boyfriend was on a date. A double date. Not exactly the undercover job he told me he was working on weeks ago, the last time I saw him. Unless it was, I thought with a steaming fury, an under-her-covers job.

  I grabbed my cell phone and re-dialed.

  "Hello," Lily's voice chirped into my ear.

  "I'm going to kill him," I said.

  "Super awesome. Who?"

  "Maddox," I said though gritted teeth as I watched the woman place her hand on Maddox's arm. Her fingers curled around it in a manner that seemed way too familiar.

  "Um, I guess this is where I ask why?"

  "You know I said he went undercover?"

  "Uh-huh."

  "Well, I'm sitting outside Alessandro's, watching him and a woman sit down for dinner with another couple. He’s on a double date!"

  Lily gasped. "In Alessandro's!"

  "No, that new place across the street. It's Japanese, I think."

  "Oh, right. I know it. I went there with Ruby Kalouza and they have the best California rolls."

  "I don't care about the California rolls. He had his arm around her!"

  "You sure he isn't working? Or maybe they’re his colleagues?"

  "I've never seen them before and I know everyone." This was true. Thanks to living in Montgomery my entire life, and having a family the size of a small police force, not to mention, most of them serving as cops, I had seen just about everyone with a badge at one time or another. This woman I did not recognize. Nor did I recall ever seeing the other couple.

  "Maybe they're friends," persisted Lily, who could see no bad in anyone, which was exactly why I loved her.

  I made a strangled noise as I watched the table. "She just kissed him and he gave her one of those hug squeezes."

  "What kinda kiss?"

  "Cheek."

  "So... good friends. Family?"

  I trained my camera on them, zooming in. "I can see under the table and she has her hand on his thigh."

  "Maybe she isn't good with boundaries?" Lily said hopefully. “Maybe she’s European? They’re very tactile.”

  I watched as Maddox folded his hand around hers and brought it up to the table, laying their hands between place settings. My heart raced. "Neither is he, by the looks of it; and he’s definitely American. I’ve seen his passport."

  "Look, don't jump to conclusions, okay? Maddox is a good guy. Why don't you call him?"

  "Sure!" I snorted.

  "He's your boyfriend. You should be able to call him any time. Maybe he’ll just tell you what he’s doing and you won’t have to worry."

  She had a point. "I guess."

  "I’m sure it’s nothing. Call me right back."

  Lily hung up. With my heart pounding, I hit “speed dial” and called Maddox. I watched as he reached into his jacket pocket, glanced at the screen and... hung up on me! I didn't wait for the robotic voice to invite me to leave a message. I hung up and dumped the phone on the passenger seat with a frustrated sigh. I watched them as they ordered, laughing with the waitress. While their wine was poured, it took all my restraint not to go over there and march in, demanding to know exactly what Maddox was doing.

  Despite my furious indignation, I reminded myself of my actual job. Every so often, I scanned the street as well as the nearby glass window fronts, looking for my mark. Finally I hit pay dirt, squeezing off a couple shots before Don Hassell disappeared from view. No cheating there, by the looks of it, unless it was with the two middle-aged men he strolled in beside. Well, really, who knows? I watched them a little longer without a hint of flirting, fired off a few more shots and lay my camera on the seat. That done, all I could do was fume.

  As I watched, cell phone in hand, wondering what to do next—go home or torture myself some more—the woman leaned over and planted a kiss on Maddox's lips, just as he turned his head towards her. I saw red. Holding up my phone, I zoomed in and snapped a photo, watching as it froze on the screen.

  I had the sudden urge to vomit.

  With a shaking hand, I hit “redial” and watched as Maddox disentangled himself and... hung up on me again.

  The bastard!

  I could not believe he was doing this to me. Our relationship might not have been long, but as far as I knew, it was a good one. We spent several nights a week together, and we went on dates where we held hands and snuggled. On one particularly memorable occasion, we even did something a serving officer of the law should not do with his date, especially in the open air. And now he was pretending to be on some undercover job when he was actually snuggled up to an annoyingly pretty woman. I'd have rather he just dumped me than cheated. I hated cheaters.

  With one last glance through Alessandro's plate glass window, I took a couple of begrudging shots of Hassell and his two male dinner companions before turning back to Maddox.

  So, he wouldn’t answer my calls? Fine. Maybe he'd like a photo message instead. I call
ed up the gut-wrenching photo and embedded it into a message. Then I added Maddox's number, and typed GFY. We're over in the message box. My thumb hovered over the “send” button. I looked up to see them laughing with the other couple, and, with my lips set in a thin, angry line, I hit “send.”

  As I fired up the car engine, I saw Maddox pull his phone out with a shake of his head. He said something to his dining companions, then blanched.

  So he got the picture.

  He wasn't the only one.

  I watched a moment longer, just long enough for him to say something to his date, stand up, and make for the exit. No doubt, he was probably wondering where the hell I was.

  Well, I'd seen enough.

  I pulled out into the traffic, tears prickling my eyes. In my rearview mirror, I saw him step onto the sidewalk as he looked around. Without a backwards glance, I hightailed it home.

  By the time I pulled into my parking space outside the building Lily and I rented from her parents, my eyes were blurring, my breathing rapid, and I couldn't see straight. A burning urge to flee filled me. I couldn't stand the thought of being in the same town as Maddox. I didn't want to see him ever again. In a burst of clarity, I knew what I was going to do. I grabbed my phone and dialed.

  Solomon picked up on the second ring. He didn't seem surprised to hear from me, though, come to think of it, he never did. "Hello?"

  "Got some photos of your guy," I said. "No dice, unless he's into dudes."

  "Send the photos when you get a chance."

  "Solomon?" I paused, my heart doing that pounding thing again. "I changed my mind about the Fort Charles' job."

  "I'll pick you up at eight tomorrow," he replied, without asking why.

  "In the morning?" I squeaked, pausing to pull the phone from my ear as the “call waiting” noise sounded. I checked the screen. Maddox. The cheating son of a gun! Like I was going to answer! He could shove his explanation where his badge didn't shine. I stuck the phone back to my ear. "What do I need to bring?"

  "A week's worth of clothes. Bring some sportswear and some smart stuff for the evening."

  "Like ball smart or restaurant smart or bar smart?" What was it with men? Tell a man smart, he wears a suit, a tie and fits in just about anywhere. Tell a woman smart, and she doesn't know what the heck to wear.

  "Socializing," he said. "Find something that will cover any casual evening activities."

  Clear as mud.

  "Gotcha," I said, holding down the lump in my throat. With a curt, "See you tomorrow," I hung up and stomped my way into the building. I knocked on Lily's door.

  "Hello!" She beamed as she answered, her blonde curls bouncing around her shoulders. My face crumbled. "Did you lose the mark? Did a bird doo-doo on your car? Did someone get murdered?"

  Lily had a strange collection of ideas of what might make my face slump faster than a bulldog that had his kibble taken away.

  "Maddox," I sniveled as my eyes began to stream, "is a scumbag."

  "Yes, he is, sweetie," Lily automatically agreed, pulling me inside. She immediately produced our two favorite men, Ben & Jerry, and two spoons.

  I spilled my story right from the beginning, then cried on Lily's shoulder while she tried really hard to disagree that Maddox was a bastard and all men were scum. Then we cursed him for ringing three times and not leaving a message. After three tequila shots, we pro-actively changed Maddox's name to “Jerkoff” in my cell phone contacts. Then we ate too much ice cream, added a few more shots, and somewhere around midnight, I bear-crawled upstairs to my apartment after calling this a crappy night.

  Chapter Two

  I awoke to the enthusiastic singing of “It's a Beautiful Day” from someone under my bed. After a brief moment of panic, I scrabbled for my gun so I could shoot the bastard through my mattress. Fortunately, my gun was locked away in a drawer, saving me the embarrassment of explaining a shoot-out with my floor to the cops. The flash of panic neatly coincided with my remembering that Lily thought it would be a good idea to change my ring tone to something more cheerful.

  The singing stopped and my pounding head dropped to the white pillow in relief, only for the incessant ringing to start up again ten seconds later.

  I scrabbled for it, squinting at the out of focus screen, and hit “answer.” "What?" I moaned.

  "Where are you?" Solomon's cool voice filled my ear and I winced as it rattled through my brain.

  "In bed," I mumbled.

  "Interesting," he replied smoothly, and I could almost hear the smile in his voice. "Why are you still there when you're expecting me?"

  I wasn't expecting him, was I? Oh shit, I was! The brief conversation in which I agreed to work his undercover case flooded back to me. Along with it came the gut-wrenching pain of seeing Maddox with another woman. Thankfully, the stabbing pain of a tequila hangover beat the shit out of my sadness. "Uhhh," I groaned, sinking my face down into the pillow.

  "I'll be right up."

  "No. I'll be right down," I protested weakly.

  Solomon laughed devilishly and hung up. I had barely enough time to drag myself into the bathroom and splash water on my face. I was combing my hair when I heard a knock at the door. Walking gingerly towards it, every footfall making my head throb, I opened it, not even bothering to check the peephole.

  Solomon ran his eyes over me.

  "I see you're running late," he quipped. His eyes traveled down, landing somewhere around my middle—I couldn't move my head without wanting to keel over, so frankly, who knew?—and back up again. A barely audible sigh escaped him as he closed his eyes. Risking my discomfort, I looked down. Yeah, not so impressive, and, oh sweet mortification! I managed to answer the door wearing nothing but yesterday's tee and a lacy thong. Note to self: in future, look in mirror properly before opening the door to a man who looks like he just stepped off a GQ cover. He didn't have any comment on my attire. His heated eyes and the rise and fall of his chest, however, said plenty.

  "Hah. You think?" I replied, backing away so he didn't get even more of an eyeful as I reversed. If my mind weren't so sluggishly ticking over, it probably would have occurred to me to slam the door, put on some jeans or a robe, re-open the door, and start all over again. Instead, I just let him in and backed away, my hand flapping about for the door jamb. "Make yourself at home. I'm just going to die and get reanimated, 'kay?"

  I continued backing up until I swayed to a stop inside my bedroom. I reached for the door, finally grasping it on the third attempt and swung it shut. I kept blinking and trying not to see everything in triplicate.

  "Okay, Buffy," Solomon called. After a few seconds, I heard his footsteps as he headed towards the kitchen. With any luck, he would make coffee. And if the luck fairy was totally on my side, I would get through the morning without having to make a toll call on the porcelain telephone.

  Despite agreeing to the op in a moment of sober madness last night, I hadn't actually thought to prepare for it. I, unfortunately, preferred the tequila and badmouthing option to the more pressing issue of being replaced by the perky ponytail. Lily was probably still sleeping it off. I had no clothes packed, nothing that said “ready for business private investigator.” And, well, hell, I had the hangover of doom and a heart that felt like it had been ripped from my body, stamped on repeatedly, run through a meat grinder and sewn back in. How could Maddox cheat on me with someone else? Was the whole undercover op a lie? Was it just an excuse to let me down gently while he got it on with another woman? Absent a guilt trip from me to dampen the mood?

  A tear streaked over my cheek as I walked into the attached bathroom, my mind whirling. I turned the shower on and stood under the water, forgetting that it took a minute for the water to heat up. The icy stream made me squeal. A minute later, after the snuffling began in earnest, I remembered to take off my clothes.

  It took a good thirty minutes of standing under the running water, right up until it ran icy-cold again, before I felt vaguely human. Somehow during that time, I'd
totally forgotten Solomon was in my apartment. Just as I finished blow-drying my hair, carefully so as not to actually touch anything that wasn't necessary in case I passed out, he popped back into my head. I imagined him holed up in my living room, checking his watch and tapping his foot. Oops. He was going to be pissed about waiting. Given my mood, I wasn't exactly into pissed bosses, so I took my time finishing my makeup and dressing. I kept one eye firmly on the clock, wincing at every minute that passed. I consoled myself by rationalizing he could be mad at a grubby, stinky Lexi, or a fresh-as-a-daisy me. Of the two, I preferred the second. From my closet, I grabbed my small, wheeled suitcase and a sports bag, tossing them on my bed as I went in search of Solomon.

  I found him on my couch, the newspaper stretched across his knees. He was focused on the sports section, drinking coffee from a Styrofoam cup, and looking remarkably relaxed. "Welcome back to the land of the living," he said, glancing upwards and taking in my jeans and tee. “Not sure which outfit I prefer.”

  "Where did these come from?" I asked, taking the cup Solomon plucked from the coffee table and passed to me. I took another step into the main room that functions as my living space, dining room and home office. Prying the lid open, I took a sniff. The coffee smelled of vanilla, sugary and sweet. It was quite a stark contrast to the coolly masculine fragrance wafting from Solomon when he brushed past me on the way in.

  "Sounded like you were going to be a while so I went out and came back."

  I wondered where he got a key from. "I have a hangover," I blurted, in case he hadn't deduced from my bloodshot eyes.

  "There's a dozen donuts in the kitchen. Soak it up."

  "You're like the hangover fairy."

  Solomon raised his eyebrows as he leaned back against the sofa. "Never been called that before."

  And he would probably have decked anyone that called him that too. I backtracked. "I meant, like a fairy godmother or..." So not better. Not fairies. Solomon was most definitely not a fairy. "A guardian angel." He raised an eyebrow. God. Not improving any. "Whatever. Thank you."