Behind Frenemy Lines

by Chele Pedersen Smith

  “You got lucky.”

  Gal watched the testosterone tennis match in fascination, not sure who was winning.

  With not much else to say, the trio squirmed uncomfortably and at that moment, held hostage by silence, Lee wanted to be anywhere but there. “The reality is, I came in here to help you, Gal, not stumble into a lion's den and get eaten alive.” He started to leave, but Andle was still in the doorway.

  “Sure, disappear when the collar gets hot, but you're all over me when other things heat up!”

  The lab tech's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

  Lee turned around. “It’s such a warm feeling, isn't it? We're supposed to have each other's back.”

  “You call that having each other's back?” she huffed.

  “Look, I've never met this Katjarina. Maybe she lived there before me. Did you think of that? That vial must be hers too. Or who knows, maybe it's even Kate's or my landlord's.”

  “Wait, are you talking about that Bombykol? Doesn't work on humans. Only on silkworm moths.” Andle chuckled, glad to know something Lee did not, relieved to dispel the discomfort in the room.

  That caught Gal's interest. “It doesn't?”

  “No,” he laughed. “Unless it's mind over matter, like lucky jock socks or something. But scientifically, it's useless on us.“

  “Why didn't you tell me that before? You can't just drop the word pheromone and not expect me to lose it.”

  Now he was under the heat lamp. “Sorry, but you grabbed it and split. I didn't get a chance.”

  Gal nodded thoughtfully. “Oh, yeah, right.” She took a cleansing breath. “We’ll, thanks, Sir, you've been a big help. If we find anything else, we'll be sure to bring it your way.” She rose, gently shoving him out and closing the door.

  Dumped in the hall like a bag of garbage. What was going on with those two? Andle was envious. If only pheromones did work, he'd slather some on and have a hearty helping of Galaxy himself.

  Inside the room, Lee noticed she still looked frazzled, more so than before Andle popped in. “Are you okay?”

  She leaned against the door. “No. It's a dirt move to control someone without their knowledge. I know you said you didn't,” she rushed to add when she sensed his protest. “And Andle claims it’s futile, but it's still unnerving.”

  “You're right. I'm spooked too, especially since it's been in my apartment this whole time. I can see where you jumped to that conclusion. Makes me wonder if I was under the influence. Kate was a crackpot, ya know?” He whistled relief, glad to be free of that.

  “Yeah, that’s another thing. How could you sleep with Katjarina? Of all the women in the world, after I spilled my guts to you… “

  “I didn't—”

  “You promised I could trust you!”

  “Oh, really, you want to talk about trust?”

  “You're right. Stealing evidence is the same thing as sleeping with your mortal enemy, plunging a knife into my heart and cranking it like a wind-up toy.” She sat down, tossed a folder from one corner to another and sighed. “Maybe the real issue is you with other women.”

  “You're kidding, right? I had a life before we met. Same as you.”

  “I know, it's insane,” she admitted. “I'm not saying it makes sense. Just like you disappearing every Monday from lunch time on. What are you doing at the Montessori school? Do you have a kid there or are you moonlighting on another case behind my back? I know it's not softball practice or your nephew's district.” Oops. Her eyes fell on her bracelet. Quick, blame the derma-transmitter, so he doesn't think you're a stalker.

  “Ah, is that why my schedule's missing?” he grinned, no longer startled by her sly stunts. “If you want to know anything, just ask. You don’t have to trail me or use your sticky fingers behind my back. What creeps me out, is a criminal prowling around my place! But I didn't sleep with one.” He grabbed a handful of hard candy from the dish and sunk into the chair.

  “I said I was sorry. And I thought I just did. You have to admit the hair speaks for itself.” She twirled a piece of her own, resisting the urge to chew it. “Unless you have a habit of using old brushes left by previous tenants.”

  “We don't even know they're hers. I started out in the CIA lab before hitting the field, and I know it's tricky getting the right part of the hair follicle for accuracy, not to mention environmental factors affecting the specimen.”

  “Ah, I thought you were just trying to throw Andle off his game. I didn't have you pegged as a lab rat. CIA, huh? Well, I hope you're right.” She sat down. “Hey, what's Kate's last name? Sounds too coincidental both women are named Kat.”

  “Zucker, not Kresky-whatever you said, so there!”

  “Hmm, interesting. Did you know Zucker means ‘thief’ in German? Just saying…”

  “I thought your crook was Russian,” Lee countered. “There's no way she was Katjarina. I would have noticed something.”

  “Like a wig or the scorching pain tolerance?” Gal gave him an obvious look, pelting a peppermint his way. “Think, McSpy! It has to be the same woman. Her DNA is practically in your bathroom. Did she use that Bombykol on you too?” She was half-joking but what if Andle was wrong and it did affect people, rendering them brainless zombies in the process?

  “There's no way she wore a wig. I've seen her swim laps. It's probably just a fluke that she was a ginger, but the carpet matched the drapes. Plus I've yanked her hair plenty of times!”

  Gal's horrified look prodded him to explain.

  “She liked it rough, sorry.” He was leaning back on the upholstery, free-throwing balled-up wrappers into a waste basket. The crumpled cellophane was too light, fluttering down before reaching the can. “No NBA for me,” he murmured, dissecting recent relationships. Were any of them real?

  “Maybe it was glued to a swim cap. Or a weave.”

  They simmered in silence for a few seconds. “Hey, if that stuff was effective, wouldn't it make the perfect trap? Lure away museum guards or something.”

  “I guess. If you're a moth.” She spun around in frustration then stirred up a thought. “Did Kate work at one?”

  “No, an intern at the Library of Congress.” He aimed one more candy wrapper, but it caught the air draft and drifted sideways. “Can't get much duller than that.”

  “Well, libraries are kind of like museums. We might need to revisit that later. What case were you working on when she blew your cover?”

  “Nothing artsy. We were busting an illegal adoption ring. Hey!” He slid up straight, deciding to test her loyalty. “Suppose she was in on it?”

  “Kate? I'm sure of it. That scene she made was probably a diversion.”

  “No, I mean Audra. She got all huffy and quit suddenly. Maybe it was staged.”

  “Why would you think that? She's so sweet. Genuinely kind to everyone.”

  “Still crushing?” he teased. “C'mon, no one is that perfect! Have you seen her around lately? I haven't and to tell you the truth, I'm not feeling too trusting about anyone right now.”

  “No, not in a while.” Gal looked down, doodling with her pen. She had almost told him he was that perfect. What if he was right and he wasn't either? “This discovery is throwing us for a loop. If you want to call off our dancing date, I understand. I'll be bummed, but I can handle it.” What an understatement! Even though the short-lived affair had to end sometime, she knew he would be hard to get over.

  “Don't be silly. We're in this together.” There was no way he was letting her out of his sight now. Whether or not they remained romantic, he needed to keep her close. “C'mon, we have to get the dog, talk with Fitz. Let's not get away from our job.”

  Gal nodded, feeling a little better. She grabbed her purse, remembering she hadn't finished her research. “Argh, I still have to find a place to run his DNA.”

  “I'm surprised you didn't pull a piece of his hair.”

  “There's a plan! Would it even tell us anything, like that family factor you mentioned?”


  “Maybe. It's worth a try since we don't have anything else to go on. If we're lucky, maybe there'll be some wild strands in his hoodie. And what about testing it right here? Andle seems qualified, despite his ability to rush to conclusions.”

  “Too close to home. You think he can be discreet? We can't let Geoffrey find out.”

  “I've seen the puppy way he pants at you, Gal. I have a feeling he'll do whatever you want. Let's grab a cheek kit too while we're at it. Onto the yellow brick road,” Lee gestured. They headed toward the lab. “Special Olympics.”

  “Where?” Bewildered, she looked around for a poster or donation box.

  “That’s where I go every Monday. I help a little brother train for the summer games. He plays basketball, so we practice in the gym.”

  “Aw, a younger brother! That’s so sweet. But I thought your family lived near Houston?”

  “Not a sibling, we met at the Big Brothers program. So no worries, okay? No secret kids if that's what's bugging you and no, I'm not double-dipping as an undercover teacher either, although I did do that once.” He held the door open for her. “Evan has Downs and is a sports nut so when he expressed interest in competing, I got involved and started coaching.”

  Gal's heart melted. “That is the noblest thing I ever heard.”

  Lee was embarrassed. “Hey, it's not like I'm a king or anything. I just blow a whistle and give pep talks. The kids are the real heroes.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  F uming against the backdrop of honking traffic and bus exhaust, Lee paced Harold along the sidewalk near the park. “I can’t believe he was a no-show!”

  It was a rare hot day for early May, so Gal cupped her hand to make an impromptu water bowl while Lee poured from his sports bottle. The sheepdog's tongue tickled her palms.

  “Maybe we should’ve swapped,” Gal suggested, wiping her hands on her jeans.” She tousled Harry's fur anyway. Maybe he's growing on me.

  “We went out of our way to pick up the pup. Does he think we like hollering down an empty well?” He looked at his phone and sighed.

  “He doesn't know that,” Gal reminded. “For all he cares, we live in the city. What if something happened to him?”

  “Like what, runaway dogs?”

  “Or playing statue in a secret staircase.” She raised a mysterious eyebrow.

  “You think?”

  “Hey, maybe he got lucky last night.” She brightened at the sight of the bakery across the street. “I'll run over and ask around for Sarah. Maybe they have iced coffee.”

  “Better than broiling out here. Good luck. I'll walk Harold around the block.”

  He strolled leisurely, watching her jaywalk. Always the rebel. A longing ached his heart. Are we over? If they could just restart their day. But how could that be when she packed poison and kept pocketing his things. At least now he didn't feel so bad about sending someone over to sweep her place while she slept at his.

  Harold's barking drew attention to a white delivery van skidding around the corner, barely missing Gal as she reached the curb and entered the shop.

  A little bell tinkled over the door, which fit the fairy-like interior of The Affectionary Confectionary. A tiny cinnamon-haired brunette with matching freckles and an appropriate pixie cut tended the counter. “Hello,” she greeted, her diminutive voice matching her stature, the aroma of fresh cake inviting her in.

  “Hi, do you have iced coffees, Sarah?” Gal asked, incorporating her name tag, a trick she learned from Lee.

  “Not officially. The sweltering day took us by surprise. I haven't made the concentrated syrup yet, but I can make you a single with an expresso.”

  “Great, can I trouble you for two? My boyfriend's waiting outside.”

  “Sure, take a look at our fresh bakery case while you wait. I made cherry cheesecake croissants. They're going fast.” Sarah scooped ice into two tall smoothie cups.

  “I like your towering cupcakes. I know someone who's a fan.”

  Sarah laughed. “Yeah, they're pretty popular with birthday parties. Do you have kids?”

  “It's our dog walker, Fitz. Do you know him?”

  The pastry chef's smile faded, and she set down the creamer. “Only as a customer,” she squirmed, then leaning over the counter, whispered, “Is he well?”

  “He's a little off,” Gal admitted. “But he's pretty harmless.” At least she hoped. “Why, has he been acting strange?”

  “Always, but maybe he's just the nervous type. He's here every day for the daily special, but yesterday he asked me if he upped his game, and bought a fancy three-tiered cake, would I go out with him? He wouldn't take no for an answer, so I gave in and met him at the park last night for a movie. And then…” she glanced around, feeling foolish. “He kept bragging about Marilyn Monroe being his mother. Gave me the creeps. I left early, thankful I had to start baking at 2 a.m.” The beeping of the register tallied the order.

  Gal leaned forward and looked around. “Did you get that Norman Bates feeling?” She was glad to put her new pop culture to use.

  Sarah's brown eyes widened, confirming solidarity. “O.M.G, yes, now that you mention it, that's exactly what it was.”

  “Did you know they're playing that movie next week at the park?”

  Sarah shivered. “I hope he doesn't ask me to go.” They shared an uneasy laugh. “Here, have a cupcake on the house. Fitz didn't come by yet for his. I think I hurt his feelings. If you see him, tell him I'm sorry.”

  “Thank you, I sure will. We've been waiting for him over an hour but nary a shadow. Do you know where he lives?”

  “No, sorry. But he seemed obsessed with the White House for some reason. Maybe he camps near there?”

  “Okay, thanks.” Gal started to leave, then backtracked. “You know, it really might be true. We're looking into it.”

  “What? That he's insane?” She spilled the napkins she was trying to stuff into the holder.

  “No, that he's a Kennedy,” Gal winked, nodding goodbye.

  Outside in the heat, she spotted Lee and the slobber monster sitting inside a bus shelter. “She met him at the park last night, but got scared off and left early.” Holding out the cardboard caddy, he helped himself to drink, peeling a straw for her.

  “That’s too bad. I haven't seen him anywhere around either.” Harold tried jumping up to sniff the plastic domed treat. “What are you going to do with that?”

  “I don't know, food fight?” Wincing, she got an ice-cracking brain freeze. “It was on the house. Maybe your nephew will like it? Or better yet, we can bribe Fitz if we ever find him. Sarah seemed to think he was hovering close to the Prez. Did you call him back?”

  “Yeah, no answer. Do you think he might have done something foolish, like get arrested?” They headed back to the car. “Maybe he left town early. I saw a suspicious van with Smithsonian plates. It almost hit you.”

  “Yeah, that was crazy close. Do you think someone short was in the driver seat?”

  “Harold started barking. Maybe he recognized him, or maybe he was just protecting you. Dogs have a sixth sense.”

  “Aww, Hairy. You are a sweet pom-pom, aren't you?” She ruffled his fur. “But why would he leave when he knew we were going to test his DNA?”

  “Exactly. Doesn't something smell rotten here?”

  “Yeah, you're so right!” Gal stopped in her tracks, pointing at Harold.

  After disposing of the doggie scrap bag, they squeezed Hal once again into the Mustang. “Should we ride over and see if we can find him? Maybe we should track down Franny Cooper while we're at it. They could be together.”

  A convoy of cop cars whizzed past, and they noticed the public in a tizzy.

  “What's going on?” Lee revved the engine, snapping on the radio.

  “—also known as the Jacqueline Kennedy Garden, during preparations for the Mother's Day Tea. Traffic is being diverted at this time. No suspects have been identified, and terrorism has been ruled unlikely. Stay tuned to WDC ROX, the Cap
itol Classic Rock for the latest details. We repeat, an explosion in the East Garden of the White House—”

  “Follow them,” Gal signaled as he stepped on the gas. “I hope our boudoir isn't in ruins.” For a minute she felt sentimental, forgetting she was miffed at Lee's seductive swindle. Their phones lit up simultaneously, so Gal answered for the both of them.

  “Yes, Geoff, we just heard. We're already downtown. Yep, we're heading over to investigate. Roads are closed, but we'll get there somehow.” She disconnected, feeling warm panting in her ear, as Harold’s big head slobbered out the window. “Why do we always have the drool master with us when we need a quick getaway?”

  The dog wagged his backside in response.

  Lee tailgated the police, snaking his way through traffic cones until they pulled into the rear entrance of the White House gate.

  An officer walked over. “You can't be here. You'll have to turn around.”

  Gal flashed her badge. “We're on this case.”

  He nodded. “That’s an unorthodox bomb sniffer you have there, but he won't be necessary. We have our K-9 unit. It appears the damage is limited to the grounds, but we'll take Raj for a look around.” The cops and the German shepherd disappeared through a service door.

  They looked at the sheepdog, ruffling his fleece. “Be a good boy and stay,” Lee chuckled, tossing him a biscuit.

  Walking around the premises to survey the garden, gobs of frosting and cake chunks adorned the rose bushes and topiaries. The linen chair backs were smudged with fudge, ambushed by the flying marble confection.

  They found Anita and Tom inspecting a disfigured daffodil display. Police units were scrutinizing the lawns while the cleaning crew waited in the wings.

  “The work of a decadent detonator,” Gal whispered.

  Lee snickered before addressing the media team. “What happened, a pie fight gone awry?”

  Anita shook her head. “No, but the suspect is certainly a clown. We're lucky it was just an exploding cake.”

  “And not during the tea. Hi, I’m Tom Feliz. I’d shake your hands but…” He held up a busted bucket and pieces of its lid. “Liquid nitrogen. Sorry to miss you the other day.”