Behind Frenemy Lines

by Chele Pedersen Smith

  Gal nearly choked on his accurate reference, watching butter sizzle in a pan. “Why did you keep it then?”

  “I forgot all about it, to be honest.” He whisked eggs and milk, pouring it into the hot skillet, giving it time to set. “I should’ve chucked it right away, but the woman I was seeing,” he paused to make air quotes, “Crazy Kat, believed it was the sure-fire method. She insisted it protected against STIs. But my doctor disagreed. It kills healthy cells too, opens up a chance for viruses. I told her that, but she didn't buy it. So I had to fake it.”

  “And we girls think we cornered that market.”

  He shook his head, smiling, chopping onions, bell peppers and ham. “With other methods. When she asked why it no longer burned, I said we must have gotten used to it.” He picked up his mug, chuckling into his brew. “She lived with me for a while so I couldn't just toss it out because she looked through the trash, pockets, my briefcase, everything. Talk about trust issues.”

  “I'll say! Was she justified, if you don't mind me asking?”

  “If you're thinking I cheated, no worries there. Like I told you, I don't play that game. But I was working closely with my former partner, Audra Whitman. Kate thought something was up. Never believed me, no matter what I said, the spermicidal maniac! Couldn't stand our undercover stings, but didn't mind being seared by Nonoxynol-9.”

  “She sounds awful,” she sputtered in hysterics, holding her side.

  “It gets worse. Audra and I had to pose as husband and wife once, and she went ballistic, blew our case. That's when I ended it, couldn't take it anymore. My partner got torqued and asked for a re-assignment.”

  “That's a shame.” Reaching for a refill, she waved the pot. “I remember Audra.”

  He held out his cup. “You know her?”

  “We worked in the research department a few months before I transferred to you. Friendly, petite, pretty blonde, right? Quite sassy with a southern accent.” Was that a smile widening his jaw? “Ah, I see how it was,” she teased. “Is that why Kate was a jealous hawk?”

  “It was all very professional,” he protested, bringing the platter of eggs to the table. “I admired her, yes. Like you said, she was fun, kind, lively.” He sat, digging into his breakfast. “But it was strictly business.”

  “Uh-huh, sure, like us?” she grinned, running her foot up his leg.

  “Nothing like us,” he assured, returning the footsy favor. “I may have had an innocent crush, sure, but I was completely faithful to my girlfriend.”

  Gal snorted into her coffee, making soft bubbles.

  “What?”

  “Don't feel bad. I had a wee crush on her too.”

  Lee dropped his fork. “What? No way!”

  “Well, what’s not to like? You said so yourself.”

  “True, she’s a sparkplug. So, anything happen?” He leaned in, his attention aroused.

  “Nothing like you’re thinking. One night, she had enough of my Viktor pity party and dragged me to a club to cheer me up, that’s all.”

  “An outrageous night on the town, huh? She was always up for a good time.”

  “Yeah, but I wouldn’t call it outrageous.”

  “Really? She had some zany tales about her college days. And she tried getting me to join a flash mob once or twice. What did she get you to do?”

  A mischievous smirk blushed her cheeks. “She told me those stories too, so I was leery of going out. I had this nightmarish vision of wet tee-shirt contests in the reflecting pool. Mmm, this is delicious. Have you always been a cook or did you go undercover as a chef?” She jumped up to fetch the coffee pot.

  “No contest there. You'd win by a landslide,” he laughed, pulling her in by the back of the sweatshirt and plopping her on his lap. “Don't keep me in suspense. Did you end up in jail, a tat parlor? Oh I know, a trapeze park!”

  “Not even close,” Gal giggled. “Yeah, drunken acrobats, that sounds safe.”

  “So there was something! C'mon, spill. I like a good story with breakfast.”

  “Then you should get the morning paper because there's really nothing to tell.”

  “Your Cheshire grin says otherwise,” Lee goaded. “Just knowing you had a girl crush...”

  “Tame your wild pony, Cowboy. It wasn't that kind of crush. And it was just a plain ol' boring girls' night.”

  “I find that hard to believe. The past few days with you have been anything but dull.”

  “Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you. Audra was convinced guys fawning all over me would mend my confidence. I severely doubted, having wallowed for weeks in vats of rocky road.”

  He envisioned chocolate ice cream dripping down her chin, pooling inside her cleavage like a delicious trough. “Yum... I mean, I'd still give you my number.”

  “Uh huh, sure Schmoozy.” She traced his scruffy jaw with both hands and planted a kiss, knowing and feeling full well what he was thinking. “So anyway, I did my best to dress hot and then Audra shows up, a knock-out twenty! Some ego boost, huh?”

  She got up to devour her breakfast before it got cold. “So even though I wasn't up for it, I prepared myself to fight off gentlemen suitors. And they did swarm—for Audra! That was such a slap. I downed a few shoulders of Guinness, got crabbit as a cat. Somehow she managed to charm them, sending them my way. I wasn't in the mood for her seconds, and they ran for the hills, their bitch radars pinging off the charts. Then being a devoted friend, she doted on me, making sure I was okay.”

  “Sounds about right. What happened next?” he probed, enchanted by every word.

  “Well, to get me over my belly-aching, she told me I was pretty and smart, then pulled me onto the dance floor by my silk scarf.” She paused, sectioning her omelet. “Maybe it was the booze or being smushed tight at the bar, but there was a lot of giggling. Do you remember her laugh, that musical chime?”

  “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Like a magic potion. Could get you to do anything.”

  Her face tried to hide agreement. “Yeah, it was a fun night. She was right. It helped snap me out of my funk. Do you have any orange juice?” She rose, turning toward the fridge.

  “That's it? No antics? There had to be something.” He folded his arms, his hard stare wearing her down.

  She returned to her seat, burying her face in her hands. “Okay, okay. I can't believe we did this, but we tried smuggling a barrel of peanuts into the National Zoo.”

  “What? You broke in rolling a whole drum of peanuts? The squirrels must've loved you!”

  “Not exactly. The crate wouldn't budge, so we loaded our purses instead. And the break-in was a bust. Bending over the fence, the beer started to protest so you can imagine the only thing making it over. And then what a sight we were! Audra tangled in the chain links, trying to get me down. Even the cabbie helped,” she snorted. “Aud even convinced him to drive all the way to my place in Otterbein, then tucked me in and made sure I was comfy.”

  “Yeah?”

  Gal laughed, nudging his foot. “It's not like we had a pillow fight. I was sick. She gave me a ginger ale, crackers and draped a cool cloth over my head. I apologized for spoiling the evening. She said I probably prevented us from being arrested, then invited me lingerie shopping the next day if I was up for it.”

  “Were you?” he asked eagerly, willing it to happen.

  “You can thank her for that pink zebra you like so much. She taught me how to feel beautiful, even when nobody's watching.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  B eing romantically involved with Lee made Galaxy's job difficult. Sometimes she forgot she was more than just his lover and LINK partner but an actual Russian assassin. Well, half-Slavic anyway. Driving into work together meant walking into the building with him, which made it tricky to drop off lab samples. What excuse could she give to ditch him?

  “See you for lunch? I have to research DNA tests for Fitzy. I told him last night I was a social worker,” she chuckled. Ah, good one, Gal, since you do want to examine the molecu
lar structure of those hairbrush samples.

  “Oh yeah. Fitzy. I almost forgot about him. See how you distract me?”

  “Oh!” Gal suddenly remembered, stopping in her tracks. “Speaking of distractions, in all the mess, I forgot to tell you. Come into my office,” she motioned, peering down the hall as they came upon her door, not wanting to catch the boss' ire.

  “Fitz said his mom, his adopted mother, is the one behind these Kennedy shenanigans. Told him he could walk right in and claim his birthright.”

  “Yikes,” Lee winced. “She sounds cray-cray for Cocoa Puffs. Did he tell you her name?” He nestled into his favorite chair, getting comfortable.

  “Let me think. I was the slapstick opening act, right after,” she grimaced, mulling it over. “I tell you what. I'll look into it while I'm digging up methods of proof for ol' Fitzy. You go off and do your thang,” she shooed. “I can't think with you staring at me.”

  Lee gave her an odd look. “Okay, I'm going. I'll call Fitz to make another appointment.”

  Gal almost protested, not wanting to deal with Harold again, but thought better of it. At least he was leaving.

  She watched him disappear into his office and close the door. Sighing relief and short on time, she sprinted the specimens to the lab.

  “Hey, Andle. How are you today? Can you run these for me?”

  She handed the evidence to the technician who was wearing a lab coat over a black Megadeth tee shirt, but other than that, no one would have suspected this metal head rocked science with his stylish red frames, goatee and dirty blonde ponytail.

  “Sure, you know, anything for you. Casual Thursday? That’s a nice change.” He nodded at her hip-hugging denim as he examined the contents.

  Gal crossed her arms, hoping he didn't spot the faint orange splotch on her elbow she forgot to dab.

  “Hair, easy, that'll take seventy-two hours. Bombykol? Where did you find that?”

  “Taped inside a toilet tank. You know what it is?”

  “Yes, it's a pheromone. From a moth, to be exact. What case are you on?”

  “Top secret,” Gal smiled, but inside she was seething. “Just let me know about the hair, okay?” Snatching the vial, she dashed to her office and kicked the bottom drawer. Well, this explained everything! Fuming, she nursed her toes, recalling his niceness, all that chivalry. Was it all a front? Obviously, he was honey-trapping right back!

  How did he pull it off? Was he slipping the stuff into her coffee, massaging it into her skin that generous first night? Or was he dabbing it behind his ears, letting the chemicals woo her? Did he not trust her? Of course not, she had revealed too much.

  Well, this just made things easier. Finally, she could separate herself and get back to the operative. All she had to do was pull off the Best Actress award. Did she have it in her?

  To get her mind off Lee, she dove into research for Fitz. He was making a great smokescreen after all, and she did want to help him. If he had rights to the Kennedy name and fortune, they shouldn't get away with snuffing him out. Hmm, what was that name? She really did forget. She rubbed her temples and closed her eyes, imagining the stunts the night before.

  “Franny Cooper!”

  Gal's head shot up. “Yes, that’s it. Oh, Lee, when did you pop in?”

  “Just now. Do you have a headache?” He patted his pockets. “I think I have some aspirin.”

  “No, just trying to think.” As if I'd take anything you offered from now on. “How'd you figure it out?”

  “I was booking Harold's walk, and it dawned on me. Hey clod, just ask him. Told him Gail was looking into DNA testing and forgot his mother's name.” He held up his phone. “So I searched it. Came up with tons of Franny Coopers but none that fit our case, not that we have much to go on.“

  “Ah, brilliant. Do you think he's lying?”

  “His story's beginning to fall apart, don’t you think? Why race off if you're innocent?“

  “Yeah, it seems shifty alright, but what do we know? Maybe he has some kind of post traumatic syndrome. He sounded genuine last night. Hey, what about adoption records? Or maybe JFK kept a diary.”

  “Good thinking! Maybe it's shelved in a special section of the library. We should make a pit stop there. Or, maybe he hid one in the floorboards at ol’ 1600. What do you say, up for getting lost again?” He raised a suggestive eyebrow, then added reminders to his phone.

  “Sure!” Gal tried to sound flat and casual but there was something tantalizing about that place, their place, she couldn’t refuse. She watched his eyes fall on the vial, so she placed a manila folder over it, but it was too late.

  “What do you have there?”

  She tossed it at him. “You tell me.”

  “Bomb-y-kol?” he read, looking puzzled. “What is it? A new DNA solution for cheek swabs?”

  “You can drop the innocent act,” she snapped, a little sharper than she meant to.

  Lee was genuinely baffled. “Bomb-whatchamacallit? I'm feeling a little bomb-shelled right now by your bombastic mood. Is it almost that time of the month or something?” It slipped out before he could lasso it back in and he braced himself for the dust storm sure to follow.

  “You men like to blame everything on that, easy peasy, one stop shopping. Like guys don't have mood swings of your own.”

  “I'm sorry, that was insensitive of me. But if that's not it, is that the problem then?” Oops…“You know, we haven’t exactly been careful.” He was at her side for support.

  That gave Galaxy reason to stop and count, and the detour annoyed her. “I don't know, it's only been three days, but it was clear to me from the start that ball was in my court. Nice try, changing the subject, Black Bart.” Her brain was on spin cycle. Had it only been a few days?

  “I didn't mean to. Tell me why you're mad.” He rubbed her arm. It was a relief to hear about the birth control, though. He vowed to be more vigilant.

  “Oh no, you don't! Are you applying more of this on me right now?” She jerked her arm away.

  “I honestly don't know what you're talking about.”

  “So you have no idea how this got inside your toilet tank? I accidentally knocked it loose when I fiddled with the fluid master.” Her sarcasm was giving him a cavity.

  “My toilet? No way! Scout's honor, what is it?” It was creeping him out. “Is it a bomb? No, that can't be, or it would've gone off. Right now I'm wishing it was truth serum because I'd like to know what's going on.”

  “That makes two of us. It's pheromone. You used it to make me fall in love with you! Of all the slimy—”

  “I did not!” His words cut sharp. “How do I know you didn't use it on me so I'd fall in love with you?”

  They stood there for the first time openly suspicious of one another. It was very unsettling, not to mention heart-breaking. Just as the sting subsided, they realized what they had just confessed. They were about to address it when Andle poked his head in.

  “Gal, preliminary results from the hair samples show mix results, but one is matching international art thief, Katjarina Kreskinova.”

  Gal gasped, pale as a ghost, turning to Lee. “What were you doing sleeping with Viktor's wife?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  I f the air in Galaxy's office wasn't tense enough, it now practically sparked.

  “Viktor's wife? No, I didn't! I don't even know Viktor, much less his wife.”

  “Who's Viktor?” Andle wanted to know.

  “Well, her hair didn't walk in by itself,” Gal pouted.

  “What do hair samples have to do with me?” He knew he sounded defensive, but they had him cornered. And why was a lab guy questioning him?

  “I took them from a brush in your bathroom.” The sun blared appropriately between the open slats, blinding her as she awaited the interrogation.

  Lee stood there, speechless.

  Andle turned to Clancy. “What was Katjarina doing at your place?”

  “I'm wondering the same thing!” Gal glared.r />
  “My place? She wasn't. And for land's sake Galaxy, unbelievable! What else did you swipe?”

  “Just the two,” she said, the slow swivel of her chair matching her glum mood. She glanced at Andle. “Probably one set is Lee's.”

  “Well, there's two kinds all right, but the other is synthetic. An auburn hairpiece I'm guessing?”

  They both stared at Lee, arms crossed.

  “I didn't have any wig-donning sleepovers at my place if that’s what you're thinking. And I certainly haven't harbored any art wranglers. You're not even hundred percent positive the hair is hers. How can it possibly match without a comparison?” His voice was escalating into a flabbergasted falsetto. None of this made sense.

  “In my experience,” Andle began, turning to Gal, trying to impress her with his expertise, “and that’s a lot,” before spinning back to Lee, “early indicators usually prove true. And we do have her sample in the database. We nabbed a strand off an old George Washington painting at the White House. An attempted robbery foiled, probably because it's so large.”

  The agents' eyes locked long enough to acknowledge the location before turning away.

  “Usually? So still a chance it could be wrong,” Lee smugged. “I'll take those odds. I also happen to know that you have a better chance of collecting mitochondrial DNA rather than individual nuclear DNA since whole follicles are rare, especially in a brush where hair is prone to breakage. So at best, you can maybe narrow it down to a general family. And don't get me started on the chemicals in hair dye these days.”

  The stunned scientist shrugged. “Sure, if you want to look at the glass as half empty, but this one is overflowing with — Wait a minute, if you're so innocent, how did you know Katjarina's hair was dyed?”

  The stares were back, perspiration now seeping through his shirt. “I didn't! I was just spitting facts. You hardly ever get the real deal anymore.” He nodded at Galaxy's streaks for exhibit A.

  “Well, even with the bleach, the root was intact so—”