Command Indecision (Lexi Graves Mysteries)

by Camilla Chafer

  I took another glance up the street and noted a black sedan rolling to a stop outside.

  "Solomon," I called softly, then louder. "Hey! Solomon!" He ducked his head around the door and raised his eyebrows, waiting with an expectant expression. "We've got company," I told him as the driver's door opened. One of the two occupants stepped out, looking around before turning his head toward the house. He stood there, square on, facing my way, his hands on hips, slightly pushing back his blazer. I saw a holster on his hip, along with the shine of his badge.

  "Police."

  “They in a hurry?”

  “Doesn’t look it.”

  "Then the neighbors didn’t call us in. Flip the lock," Solomon instructed, moving straight into not-wanting-to-be-caught-committing-a-crime mode. "We'll head out back. We can cross the yard and take the rear alley."

  I hit the lock, knowing that they wouldn't find the door unexpectedly unlocked, which would raise the question of why a murder victim’s place was left unsecured. As I looked up again, keeping my body concealed from the glass panel in the door, the second man stepped out of the car and rested his arms on the roof, saying something to his partner. Everything about him seemed familiar.

  My heart stopped and my mouth dropped open.

  What was he doing here?

  "Let's go," said Solomon in a low voice, from the kitchen. I raced to join him at the back door as the two men made their way along the footpath. As I passed through the kitchen, I took a second cursory glance at the countertops, taking in the pots for tea and coffee, packets of cereal and cake mix boxes. A box-sized gap lay between the cupcake and chocolate cake mix, like Jillian had just pulled out a mix to bake and didn’t have time to replace it. It left the otherwise neat and orderly kitchen at odds with the space. Before I could mention it, Solomon had the door open and I raced out, waiting while he closed the door and crouched down, fiddling with the lock. It clicked and locked as we stooped down at the sound of the front door opening. Then we duck-walked around the side of the building, while pressing our backs to the siding. "I want to know who they are." Solomon jerked his head to the house. "We'll drive past and get a license plate."

  "No need," I told him. "I know who they are."

  "You recognized them? Tell me in the car." Solomon leaned forward, looking up at the house; and for a moment, I wondered what he was doing. "No windows overlooking this side. We'll cross the yard that way, over the fence and head through the alley." Solomon pointed our direction, then grabbed my hand, tugging me along after him before I could comment. We kept low, traveling swiftly across the yard, away from unseen eyes. Solomon hopped over the fence like it was nothing. I swung a leg and would have tripped if he hadn't caught me, setting me to rights before I could utter an indignant squeak. I followed him silently along the rear alley, trying not to think about what I discovered the last time I was in an alley. Thankfully, this one was blessedly free of corpses. Reaching the street, we jogged until we reached the Lexus. Solomon wordlessly took the keys and slid into the driver's side.

  "Who were at the house?" he asked me as I tugged off my gloves. "I'm going to hazard a guess and say you're not related to the local PD."

  "Right," I agreed because it was somewhat of a joke that I was related to nineteen of Montgomery's finest. "I didn't recognize the first man."

  "And the second?" Solomon peeled off his gloves before tucking them into his pocket.

  I stopped fiddling with my gloves, shoving mine into my pocket too, as I turned to him. "Maddox."

  Solomon was quiet several minutes; then he turned the engine on and pulled out onto the street. I shrunk down in my seat as we rounded the corner and passed Jillian's house. "I want to know if we've just walked into the middle of the police investigation," he said.

  "Captain McAuley didn't say anything about the police being involved."

  "No, he didn't," agreed Solomon, but he didn’t sound happy about it.

  ~

  I called Garrett while on the way back to the base and caught him still at the station, which made me wonder if he had actually moved into it.

  “Do you go ever go home?”

  "Paperwork is a bitch," he said. "And I'm hungry."

  "Sorry to call you at a bad time." My stomach gave a low rumble. He wasn't the only one.

  "You haven't. What's up?"

  "I need to ask you a couple questions," I said.

  "Shoot."

  "Did Maddox get a new partner?"

  "Uh, dunno. Want me to ask around?"

  "No," I said. The last thing I wanted to do was appear to be stalking my ex. "Just let me know if you hear anything."

  "Ok-aay," agreed Garrett, drawing out the vowel. "Do I get to know why you're asking?"

  "No, just curious."

  "Yeah," snorted Garrett, incredulously. "You need anything else?"

  "Have you heard the name Jillian Connor?"

  "Why?"

  "I'm not sure if she's being investigated for something. Her name came up," I said, sticking to vague ambiguity. Lying for the job was one thing, lying to family was different, and it made me uncomfortable. I figured that seeing as Garrett didn’t talk about work at all back when he was doing his undercover days and we hardly saw him, he wouldn’t think it so odd. It seemed a long time ago to me now. It was also ironic that of all the family’s footsteps I would choose to fill, it would be his.

  "Can't say I have. Want me to run a check?"

  "Would you? Discreetly. I just want to know if she came up in any investigation."

  "You know I can't tell you anything if she's part of an ongoing investigation," Garrett warned.

  "I know; but would you look anyway?"

  "Sure. I'll call you back."

  "Any luck?" asked Solomon, his eyes on the road.

  I shook my head. "I don't have a name for Maddox's partner."

  "Probably not important. I'll ask Flaherty to get it. He still drinks with his old partner. What about Jillian?"

  "Garrett will call me back. Hey, we just passed the exit." I jabbed a finger at the exit for Fort Charles as we flew past.

  "Gotta stop by the office and sign some papers."

  I was still waiting for the call as we headed into Montgomery to make the stop. Solomon parked in his designated spot on the lot and I waited for him, fidgeting through the ten minutes he took to sign the mystery papers. When he returned, he didn't look any happier.

  "Lucas said he's working on the stuff you asked for," he told me.

  I nodded, taking solace in someone else pulling the weekend shift. I clasped my hands together and tried not to look suspicious as I waited for my brother’s call, or, even worse, Maddox suddenly popping up in the underground lot. Most of all, I just wanted to get out of Montgomery. Not that Maddox was even here, but all the same. Change was as good as a cure, and so far, Fort Charles was giving me some space. Even Solomon was giving me some space. The kiss wasn’t repeated and he didn't try anything last night. Instead, he worked on his laptop until I went to bed. I lay there for an hour, just listening to the silence, wondering what I would do if he opened the bedroom door. I still hadn't decided by the time I went to sleep, and was no more decided by the time I woke up, a solid eight hours later. With the recent sighting of Maddox churning my stomach, I didn’t want to think anymore about either of them.

  Just as we pulled out and turned onto the street, my cell phone rang, Garrett's name flashing onto the screen.

  "I ran the name you gave me," said Garrett, dispensing with any formalities. He didn't sound happy. "Ten minutes later, I got a visit from Blake in the fraud team, wanting to know why I was doing a search on the woman." He paused. "Want to tell me what this is about?"

  "I don't know," I said truthfully. "Jillian is dead is all I know. What did you tell them?"

  "Said I heard her name in passing and was curious. You want to know what she said next?" Garrett didn't wait for me to answer and breezed on. "She said to forget I ever heard the name, Jillian Connor."
>
  "She?"

  "Rebecca Blake, fraud squad. She's a new transfer."

  "Ah." Fraud squad meant she probably worked with Maddox, or at least knew him. Funny, he hadn't mentioned her name to me. Or that he’d moved back there from homicide.

  Garrett gave a soft sigh, the kind he gave when he knew his wife was mad and he wanted to fix it, whatever it was, with minimal effort. Not because he wasn’t loving, but because he often got stuck dealing with scum at work and just wanted a peaceful life at home. Right now, I was bridging the headspace between “WTF?” and “Ugh.” "Lexi, are you in trouble? You know you can tell me."

  "I'm fine. Thanks, Garrett."

  "Be careful," he warned. "Anymore wounds, and you're going to turn into a pincushion."

  "Nice."

  "I'm not sure you're going to like the answers," I told Solomon, hanging up. He'd gone quiet, but glanced over occasionally while I spoke to my brother. I explained what Garrett told me and he nodded. His hand rubbed over his jaw as he contemplated what we now knew. He didn't need to explain the gravity of the situation.

  Whatever Jillian was into, she'd caught the attention of the fraud squad; and like it or not, Maddox was on her tail too.

  "I don't like this," Solomon said finally.

  I had to agree. This was not good.

  Rooting around in my purse, I came up with a candy bar. I unwrapped it and took a bite. It had been too long since I'd eaten.

  "There's no eating in my car," said Solomon, his eyes still on the road.

  "Too late," I muttered in between munching.

  "You spill or litter, you get spanked."

  I choked, and swallowed. I looked at my feet, thought about dropping the wrapper and decided against it, as my eyes widened and my throat tightened.

  "Don't say you weren't warned," he said.

  I shrugged and finished the bar, making sure to tuck the wrapper in my purse. There was no way I was going over Solomon's knee. No. Way.

  Halfway back to Fort Charles, Solomon pulled off the freeway and we rumbled through a quiet road, bordered by mature trees. The rain had begun to stream in earnest, and the wipers were doing battle to ensure the windshield remained clear.

  "Where are we going?"

  "There's a restaurant about a mile ahead. Nice, home-cooked food. I'm hungry. The way you inhaled that candy bar, I assume you are too."

  "Almost getting caught by the police always does that to me," I said and he laughed, surprising me again. Solomon wasn't much of a laugher. In the office, he was all business. But now... now he seemed relaxed, the tension from before of coming this close to saying hello to Montgomery’s finest had disappeared.

  "Why do you think they were there? Maddox and the other detective, I mean? What does the fraud squad have to do with her?"

  "Big pile of money in her account." Solomon shrugged. "Any chance your brother will tell us?"

  "Any chance Lucas can hack police files and just send everything to us?" I countered.

  "You do know that's illegal?"

  "Meh." I shrugged. I figured we'd already committed a crime tonight simply by breaking into Jillian's place. What could one more hurt? It was practically a buy-one-get-one-free deal. Besides, it wasn't like we were trying to abscond with evidence. We were trying to solve a crime. How could the police object to that? If they wanted to be positive about it, we were helping!

  "That's my girl." Solomon pulled into the parking lot, cutting the engine after sliding into a space in front of the building. The skies abruptly closed and sunshine streamed down to nothing. The gravel lot was already half full with cars, giving a hint to the diner’s popularity.

  I think it was probably the first time I'd been praised for criminal activity, but I let it slide. Instead, I stepped out of the car, glad to stretch my legs. I followed him inside, skipping over the puddles, waiting to be escorted to our table. The place looked like it had not changed for thirty years. Checked gingham curtains hung half-height at the windows and the tables were old and scored, but buffed to a glossy, clean shine. The lingering lunch crowd was comprised of a few families and several couples. Country music played softly through the speakers and conversation ran warmly around us. It was about as far from Solomon as I could imagine.

  Somehow, we seemed to end up in the couple's corner.

  "I didn't pick the decor," he said, getting a read on my thoughts. "I come for the food." He picked up the menu, casting his eyes over it. I did the same, gently pressing my fist into my stomach, hoping Solomon couldn't hear the growls.

  "Do you come often?" I asked casually, keeping my eyes on the menu.

  "From time to time," Solomon replied, just as casually. "You ready to order?"

  "Not yet."

  "Take a finger and stab it anywhere. You can't go wrong."

  "That so? What do you recommend?"

  "Everything."

  I laid the menu flat. "I just don't see what Jillian did to get all that money," I said. That kind of money could be typically traced to a small number of things. I'd already run over the options. A lottery win was highly improbable, and Lucas would have found mention of it. She didn't seem like a gambler and I saw nothing in her place to suggest she was a cards ace; plus, the money was one, regular sum. I didn't see anything in her life that could suggest criminal activity. A side job in the time she had left between work and college couldn't bring in that kind of money either, so that was out.

  Solomon glanced up. "Food first."

  "Could she have been a call girl?"

  "I checked her closet. It was not a call girl closet, at least not for that kind of money."

  I raised my eyebrows. Solomon laid his menu down. "That is top class money and Jillian didn't have a top class wardrobe. No heels, no sexy dresses. She wouldn't go see clientele in her jeans and blouse."

  "You seem to know plenty about it," I muttered as I picked up the menu. I might have sounded a trifle peeved. Maybe.

  Solomon nodded to the waitress and she started to amble over, her notebook ready. "I've worked a bunch of different ops, met all kinds of people. Call girls make good informants."

  "Maybe she was blackmailing someone," I suggested as the waitress bore down, her intent face suggesting we better be ready to order.

  "It's something to check," agreed Solomon, turning to greet the waitress by name. Another surprise for me.

  "Haven't seen you in a while," said the woman. Her name tag read “Bernadette” and she looked from him to me with unconcealed approval. She plumped her curly, pale gray hair and smiled. "And a nice young lady with you too. What can I get for you?"

  Solomon had her run through the specials before we ordered, and cold drinks landed on our table a moment later. "Holla if you need anything," she told us, patting Solomon on the shoulder as she walked over to the next table. The notepad and pen magically re-appeared in her hands; from where I couldn’t fathom.

  I picked up a bread stick and chewed on it, musing the blackmail theory. "Must've been a big secret," I continued. "Probably big enough to kill for."

  "Tate didn't have that kind of money. Couldn’t have been his secret."

  "Does anyone at Fort Charles? That's not money from your average soldier, right?"

  "We can run theories on this all day, or we can wait for Lucas to do the trace," Solomon pointed out.

  I bit down on the stick. "I guess."

  Solomon leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. "You get a lead on the sister, Roxanne?"

  "Nope. Gretchen mentioned she's been off base since her sister died. I'm hoping to catch up with her next week when she’s due back. Did you check out the parents?"

  "Not in depth. They've been pretty quiet. Lucas ran a background check on them and came up with nothing of any significance. The mom is a homemaker. The dad is a site manager for a warehouse."

  "Must be horrible losing a kid."

  Solomon shrugged and looked away.

  "What do you do weekends when you don't work?" I asked him. />
  "Work," he said. "Hit the gym. Last weekend, I looked at plans for the floor above ours in the building."

  "How come?"

  "Expanding. We need the space."

  News to me. I raised my eyebrows in surprise as I slid my elbow onto the table and cupped my chin. "What do we need the space for?"

  "More staff. That's why I had to drop by the office. I just signed the lease for that floor. It needs gutting and remodeling."

  I frowned. "Do we have enough work?" I asked. As far as I could tell, we trundled along nicely and had slightly more work coming in than we could reasonably cope with, bar this quiet period; but not so much that Solomon could expand to another floor.

  "You, Fletcher, Delgado and Flaherty will stick to the investigative side. Lucas will move upstairs."

  "What will the newbies be doing?"

  "It's classified."

  "You're no fun," I told him, mock crossly. "I want to keep Lucas."

  "We'll work out a custody agreement." We both leaned back as the waitress returned to refill our drinks and laid the table with silverware wrapped in cotton napkins. "I'm plenty fun," he said when she walked away.

  I didn't deny it. "This is nice," I said, looking around. "I'm starting to see a new side to you."

  Solomon appraised me as he rocked back in his chair. "You like?"

  "What's not to like?" I asked, grabbing my drink and taking a sip. Solomon had all the attributes of a truly excellent man, and he was so self-assured, he probably knew it. "But I'm not stroking your ego," I added just in case he thought I was going to get out a list.