He held his hand out to Maddox and they shook briefly, the muscles of their arms popping. Traci sighed. I was vaguely aware of a drop of ice cream trickling its way over my thumb.
"Got a minute?" Solomon asked me.
I licked my ice cream. "I'm very busy," I told him. Lick, lick, lick.
"I can see that."
Sam looked up. "Are you my Aunt Lexi's friend as well?" he asked, his crayon poised in the air.
Solomon lowered his gaze to Sam. "Yes, I am."
"Do you do the nasty with my Aunt Lexi too?"
Solomon blinked. I think it's the only time I'd ever seen him stumped. "No," he said. "I only do nice stuff with your Aunt Lexi."
"Good,” said Sam, with confused relief while his mother choked. “Mom says Aunt Lexi does nasty stuff with Maddox."
"Okay," said Solomon, with a nod. "I like you. Do you want to come and work for me?"
"What do you do?"
"Catch bad guys."
"My dad catches bad guys. What do you do with them?"
"Give them to the police."
"Cool. My dad shoots them."
Across the blanket, Garrett sighed. I thought now would probably be a really good time to take up Solomon on his request, before Sam got it into his head to ask if we all did the nasty together, and I spontaneously combusted.
"Okay," I said. "Let's go talk. I won't be long," I told Maddox, squeezing his hand as I pushed up.
"You want me to look after your ice cream?"
"No. You'll eat it."
Sam looked up sharply, probably wondering if that was the kind of nasty stuff Maddox did to women. I held my cone in one hand, brushing the grass that clung to my ankles off with the other. I followed Solomon over to the path that led to the lake. We walked a little way until we found a bench.
"I came by your house," he said, sitting down and folding one leg across the other.
"I'm not in." Slurp.
"I figured that out."
"So, what's up, ace detective?"
Solomon reached into his backpack and pulled out a file. "The updated background check came in on the hotel's employees. Thought you should look it over before Monday."
"That's what was so urgent? You could have just left them at my house?"
"Files don't get left," Solomon explained as I trawled my memory for his lengthy list of rules. This was possibly item four hundred and thirty-nine. I'd gotten bored and tuned out at fifty. "Files get transferred hand-to-hand, kept on a person and..."
"Locked up," I finished, taking a long swipe of ice cream, and letting it melt on my tongue. "I remember. Anything I need to look at first?"
"I only skimmed them and nothing stood out."
"That’s it?" The music stopped and I heard the band strike up another lively number, the crowd breaking into claps.
"There's a briefing in there too. Stuff I want you to particularly look at when you go in."
"Okay. When do you need a report?"
"Call me every evening and give me a rundown. Keep notes and make sure you're not obvious about it. I'll expect a written report towards the end of the week when you've had a chance to talk to everyone. Anything that makes you suspicious, record it and I want to know about it."
"You told me this already. What if there isn't anything suspicious?"
"There will be something." Solomon watched me take another lick.
"What?" I said, ignoring the way his eyes lingered on my mouth. "It's nice ice cream. You should get some." Solomon continued watching me. "Anything else?" I asked.
"This is interesting. I'm waiting to see what you're going to do with the cone."
"I'm going to bite it really hard," I told him.
"I prefer tongue to teeth."
There was absolutely nothing to say to that, so I took the file, flashed slightly dilated eyes at him, and stalked off. I felt his eyes on me as I made my way back to Maddox; then snap! The feeling was gone. I chanced a look over my shoulder and scanned the area. Solomon was nowhere to be seen.
"What did he want?" asked Maddox after I shoved the file in my tote bag and nestled back in his arms.
"Work stuff," I said, peering at the cone. Ice cream had melted right down the middle. Yum.
"I thought you were temping again?"
"I am. It's just some extra bits Solomon wants me to do in my free time."
"So you're still working for him?"
"Yes, flexibly. Work is slow," I said, which wasn't, strictly speaking, a lie. I had already told Maddox I was temping. Now I filled in Garrett and Traci, just like I’d been told to, as part of my cover. If anyone saw me at the hotel and wondered what I was doing, or, even worse, asked me why I wasn't an investigator anymore, it could be trouble for me. Tomorrow, I'd tell my family. I suspected my parents would be disappointed. My dad liked the idea of having another crime-fighter in the family; my mom thought it was hilarious that her youngest was a PI.
"So, you're what? Typing? Making notes for Solomon?"
"Pretty much," I agreed. Both of those things I would do while working the case.
"I'm sorry the investigating stuff didn't work out," said Maddox as I settled against him. "But I've gotta say, I'm going to feel less worried about you temping than stalking people."
"I never stalked anyone." I'd only ridden along on a couple of surveillance cases with Solomon and Delgado while they explained how it worked and good operating procedures. That wasn't stalking though. It was following someone when they didn't know about it, and it was boring.
The other part of my training was with Lucas, back at the office, as he showed me all the computer programs I could use to find stuff out about people. He also gave me an insight into hacking, a not-strictly-legal activity. Along with that, I spent time at the shooting range with my new gun and learning how the whole PI thing worked, in theory anyway. It had been a very educational couple of months. I suspected it would also be my last month if I didn't come up with the goods on my first solo mission.
"You're less likely to make enemies temping," continued Maddox. "And it probably won't force you to drink."
I bit hard on my cone and chewed it.
"You've clearly never temped," I said.
Chapter Five
Maddox and I had planned to spend the rest of the afternoon together, but by the time he'd driven me home, his cell phone rang, calling him in to work.
"Bosses," I said with a shake of my head after he explained. "Can't get away from them."
"I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you."
"You don't have to make anything up to me," I told him. I knew plenty about how cops worked. My father had missed plenty of dinners, games and homework sessions. My brothers were the same. It wasn't personal. It was business.
"But I will anyway. I don't know what I'll be doing over the next couple of days, but I'll call you soon. Good luck with the new job. At least, only one of us has to work silly hours now." He pulled me to him and kissed me, then again, then some more. Then he did something very naughty with his hands. "I'll have to leave," he said. "Or the whole neighborhood will see me doing nasty things with Aunt Lexi in the back seat."
"The best bit about being a cop is that you can write them up for watching." I gave him a quick kiss and climbed out, waving as I walked through my front door, trying not to be too disappointed at the direction of our date.
That was the last I saw of Maddox for the weekend. By the time Lily had forced me into going to the gym with her, making me run on the treadmill before an hour of yoga, I was too worn out to even think about doing things that would make the neighbors blush. Instead, we had a girly evening with nail polish and soppy movies, and Lily updated me on her Jord resolution.
The news was it was going well and she had a date with Owen Anderson, the cop from O'Grady's. The bad news was she didn't look as happy about her progress as she should be. I did the only thing I could do in a crisis. I got ice cream and two spoons.
"Want to come to lunch with me at my pare
nts' tomorrow?"
"Will Jord be there?"
"I don't know. Maybe."
"I'll pass."
I understood. When my short-lived engagement went wrong, I couldn't stand seeing anything that reminded me of the dickwad. I couldn't even drive past his parents' house; and I hadn't been in love with him anywhere near as long as Lily loved Jord. Now I thought about it, the whole engagement had been blessedly fleeting. And I learned how to shoot after it was over.
~
My mother was good to her word and made sure Serena was at Sunday lunch, though I didn't get chance to speak to my sister. There was a full Graves turnout, and lunch was moved from indoors to picnic blankets thrown on the lawn outside, with the kids running around, my siblings eating, and my parents residing over it all like the proud grandparents they were. As an added bonus, my dad was doing his “Man Make Fire” thing over the barbecue. His apron read, “COP” just in case we had no idea what his former profession was.
"Maybe that'll be you soon," said Mom, nodding to Serena, rocking her daughter in the shade as she lovingly looked upon her. "Your Adam has lovely coloring. He'll make pretty babies."
"Getting ahead of yourself, Ma." We hadn't even tried picking out socks, never mind genetics. We'd only just pulled out the boyfriend/ girlfriend words.
"I live in hope," said Mom. She patted my knee. "You aren't getting any younger."
My ovaries winced. "Thanks!"
"It's true," said Alice, leaning forward to pass a glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade. "Your fertility declines after thirty-five. You only have a few good years left."
"Jeez!"
"Do you get maternity benefits with this new job?" asked Mom. "A job with a hotel is a nice solid job to help you raise a baby. Or will you be a stay-at-home mom?"
"I'm not getting pregnant, okay? Not by Adam." They raised their eyebrows. “Or anyone else!”
Mom and Alice exchanged a look; a look that told me they didn't believe me, even though I'd never mentioned the desire to have a baby, even once; and certainly not with a man I barely knew, even if I privately agreed we would have beautiful offspring.
Rather than have the state of my uterus debated over by my mother and sister-in-law, I cornered Serena and insisted she come over to my apartment for the rest of the afternoon. I think she'd visited three times in the five years that I'd lived there, so I was surprised when she agreed.
Later, after dragging my hot-dogged self home, when baby Victoria lay on my living room rug, kicking her gorgeous, pink feet in the air and making little popping noises with her tiny lips, I reconsidered the baby thing. I wouldn’t call myself an overly maternal person, and my biological clock didn't seem to be ticking very loudly yet, but she made my ovaries hurt in the very best way. One day, I would probably want one of these little people more than I wanted patent leather, open-toed, Christian Dior pumps. I suspected the shoes would be cheaper, more achievable and less likely to turn Maddox into an Olympic sprinter.
"I want to hire you," said Serena as she wiped drool from Victoria’s mouth.
"Say what?" I took a break from cooing at my new niece, and wrenched my eyes away from her rosebud pink lips, as I looked at her mother.
"I want to hire you," Serena said again, a little more slowly.
"What for?"
"It's... delicate," she said, blushing.
"You have to tell me what it is, or I can't help," I pointed out as softly as I could.
Serena, unexpectedly, burst into tears. One moment, she was fine; the next, her shoulders heaved, and fat tears slid down her cheeks.
I made sure Victoria was safe on the rug, a barrier of pillows surrounding her, even though I knew the chances of her suddenly being able to roll were close to zero. I sat on the couch next to Serena, my arm lamely flopping around her shoulders. Instead of being comforted, she bawled her eyes out on me; then when the tears subsided, scrabbled in her purse for a tissue to mop her face. She held another tissue to her nose and honked. Victoria jumped, little spit bubbles popping on her lips.
"Out with it," I said, mildly shocked. The last time I saw Serena cry was when Hannah Welles scored higher than she on the tenth grade spelling bee. Serena had never been beaten before, or after.
"I need a private investigator," Serena sniffed.
"I figured."
"It's Ted."
"What did he do?"
"I'm not sure yet." Serena sniffed loudly and her voice wobbled. "I think he's doing someone."
"A woman?"
"Oh God! Do you think he's doing a man?" Serena wailed.
"No, no! Uh, I don't know. I doubt it. He always seemed straight to me," I backtracked. Really, knowing Ted was straight was one of the few times I was disappointed a man was batting on our team. "What makes you think he's seeing someone else?"
"Receipts. Being late home. Not always being where he's supposed to be. Look at me, Lexi! I used to be a strong, intelligent woman! Now I'm crying over a man!"
"Ted's not just any man, sweetie. He's your husband and I'd be crying too if I thought he was doing the dirty to me." I'd also cry if I married him, but that wasn't the point. "Tell me about the receipts."
"Flowers. Jewelry. Concert tickets."
"Could they be for a client?"
"What kind of lawyer gives their clients jewelry and sends roses?"
"Point taken. What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to find out if he's seeing someone, and if so, who it is. I want evidence so I can divorce the bastard."
"Are you sure that's what you want?" People often thought that was what they wanted. Flaherty had worked many divorce cases. He mentioned more than a few times that when people got the actual evidence, they rarely believed it. Sometimes they even blamed the investigator.
"If he's playing hide the salami in the punani, I want to know about it," said Serena. "He should be at home with me and our baby, not having it off with who knows who!"
"I agree."
Serena took on the same look she got when she determined that Hannah Welles would never outdo her again. "Plus, Ted is a malicious bastard. I want evidence in case he decides to divorce me."
"Why would he do that?"
"So he can get the house and the cars. He says I'm not the woman I used to be." She tucked her hair behind her ears and sniffed.
He was right, she wasn't, but I suspected Ted stomping all over her for years had a lot to do with that. "Do you like who you are?" I asked.
"Not really. I lost my job. The bastards made me redundant a week after Victoria was born. I dress like a mom!"
"You are a mom. You could dress in Hervé Léger and you'd still be a mom."
"I could be a sexy mom. I could be a MILF."
"What happened to post-baby boot camp?"
"I'm so tired, I can barely get out of bed in the morning. Victoria's great, but she doesn't know what sleeping means. I'm fat and my boobs leak."
"You're going to have to force yourself to go if you really want to," I pointed out. "And you're not fat, but back to Ted. Are you sure you don't want the boys to kneecap him?" Our brothers would gladly do it. They'd probably do it really well. I suspected they had been waiting for years. They probably had diagrams.
"No. His alimony potential will go way down," said Serena, looking on the realistic side.
"Good thinking. I need everything you have on Ted already."
"So, you'll take the case?" Serena brightened.
"Yes, but I'll have to do it in my own time. I'll need anything you've found already. Suspect phone bills, receipts, credit card bills, places where he hangs out, his work schedule."
"How will you know if he's up to something?"
"He'll slip up somehow. I'll take pictures."
"Thank you, Lexi."
"It's not a problem."
"And, Lex...?" Serena hesitated.
"Yes?"
"Please don't tell anyone. Not even Lily. I don't want anyone to know."
"I won't tell anyone,"
I promised. "But you have to promise me you won't shoot the messenger."
"I've already got the message,” Serena assured me. She dabbed her eyes and straightened her back, giving me a no nonsense look. “Now I want the evidence."
And that's how I got my first pro bono case.
"Let me get a form for you to fill in," I told Serena. I skirted around the baby to my desk where I kept spares of, well, just about everything that I felt likely to lose. "It's just typical stuff, but it means I'll have everything I need to get started. I won’t take it to the agency. I’ll just use it. Okay? No one will know."
"Okay. How long will it take?"
"Depends on how stupid Ted is."
"Shouldn't be too long then," said Serena. She stuffed her tissue in her pocket and slid off the couch to the floor, playing with Victoria's feet. "He's so arrogant he doesn't think I even suspect him."
"Don't say anything to him," I warned her. "I know you probably want to tell him he's a jerk and that you know, but it'll make my job more difficult. I don't want him to change his routine."
"No problem. Just catch the fucker so I can screw him before he screws me."
Smart words from a smart lady. I got the form and handed it to her, then found a pen. While Serena filled out the information, I played peek-a-boo with Victoria, feeling glad I wasn't in my sister’s shoes, but mostly very sorry for her. Sorry for Victoria too, because at just a few weeks old, she had a dad who would rather be screwing other women than at home, playing with her. A lot of guys would love to have a beautiful, brilliant wife like my sister. Ted really was stupid.
When Serena was finished, she thrust the paperwork into my hands, gathered her things up and put Victoria in the car seat. When she left, her head was down and shoulders hunched again.
I watched from the window as Serena loaded Victoria into the Mercedes and drove off, then turned to the file in hand. I had a Ted to catch. I just wasn't sure what I would find.
With the rest of my free time, I sorted my laundry, and retrieved both sets of Solomon's files, spreading them out on my coffee table. As an afterthought, I made a coffee and grabbed a pack of cookies. As an afterthought to my afterthought, I pulled Marissa's file too. I did an eeny-meeny-miny-mo and went with Solomon's files first. After I matched up the current paperwork to the start of employment record for each employee, I had a better idea of whom I would be looking at first, once I started my undercover temp job at The Montgomery.
Who Glares Wins (Lexi Graves Mysteries) Page 7
