Grave Mistake (Codex Blair Book 1)

by Izzy Shows

  “Oh, forgive me, I meant hurt more feelings.”

  “There we go.” I laughed. “But you better not take my fun away. Watching the people who settle for you is probably the most fun I get.”

  “Bloody hell, Blair, that was harsh.”

  “OK, no, hold on.” I held up a hand and started counting fingers. “One, you meet most of these people either on the way to or from work, clearly communicating that that’s all you care about. They don’t get the hint, though. Two, you tell them ahead of time that you’re not getting involved long term, which should eliminate the ones looking for a commitment. But no, they all think they’ll be the one to fix you. And three, none of them can count to ten? What’s up with that? Are you intimidated by strong personalities?”

  He whistled. “I didn’t realise you were curating my type for me.”

  “You’re not answering the questions, huh?”

  “No, I’m not, because I don’t have an answer.” He rolled his eyes as if I were the most ridiculous person in the world for pointing these things out. “I don’t know. I like to have fun and I don’t want to have to worry about it. Which means I’m not looking for someone I’ll actually enjoy spending time with long term.” He shrugged his shoulders casually.

  “You know, that’s a very self-aware point of view, Finn. You pass. This time.” My eyebrows bounced, eliciting a groan from Finn. The smile that followed reassured me that he hadn’t taken it the wrong way. “So, when do I meet her?”

  He groaned. “No.” He dragged the word out. “Why?”

  I wasn’t worried that he didn’t want me to meet his person-of-the-week, mostly because this was the norm for us. “Because, who else am I going to go out to drink with, if you’re too busy with her and won’t see me with her?”

  He dragged a hand over his face. “Point taken. Fine, you can meet her. Is tomorrow night OK?”

  I frowned and thought about it for a second. “I think so. I’m not sure how much work this case is going to require. Cheating spouse is usually an easy one.”

  “Ooh, can I help? I can always tell the department I’m following a private lead on something that isn’t worth sharing and launching a full investigation into just yet.” He sounded so eager, I had to laugh. He really wanted to get back to the work that he enjoyed.

  “If I need your help, I’ll find you. I’ve never needed it before, and I doubt I will this time. Unless you’ve got a vacuum that can suck up ghosts.” I teased him, though I was legitimately curious as to what had made him start believing in ghosts.

  He rolled his eyes, yet again. “Haha. Fine. Don’t save me. See if I care.” His voice took a turn for the dramatic, and he sighed loudly.

  “You’re such a dork. The faster you get those people straightened out, the faster you can stop worrying about them and focus on the shit you enjoy. You do realise that, right?” I gave him a pointed look.

  “Yes, but that requires actually spending time with them. And explaining the same bloody thing a thousand annoying times.” He gave me a look of utter defeat. “Give me a serial killer any day, I hate going over procedure.”

  “Ooh, that’s a sound bite for the media.” I murmured, looking down at my coffee before daring a look up at him to see his reaction.

  Finn had a bad run in or two with the media of late, thanks to an American journalist who liked to sensationalise things that we British considered normal. I don’t know who was reading her stuff, but clearly there was a following for her. She’d sunk her teeth into Finn when he did not show what she deemed ‘the proper amount of empathy for the deceased’. She didn’t seem to grasp the stiff upper lip mentality that had ruled our society for so long, and so Finn’s stoic, to the point, at times blunt, demeanour hadn’t gone over well with her.

  She crucified him for not being sensitive, called him a robot and all kinds of other ridiculous nonsense. I had assumed, when I read it, that no one with a lick of common sense would give it the time of day. Honestly, who cared about rubbish like that? Well, clearly some people did.

  “Low blow, Blair. Low blow.” He scowled at me. “Last thing I need is another yank reporter taking my words out of context. You know how long it took to crawl out of that hole. I am not going there again.”

  “Sleeping with the reporter certainly helped!” I chimed in helpfully, an innocent smile decorating my face.

  He glowered at me. “Shush you. No one knows about that, and no one is going to.”

  I shrugged and tried to smother another giggle, rather unsuccessfully. I held a finger to my lips for a moment before transitioning it beside my head and lifting a second finger to go with it. “Scout’s honour.”

  He sighed. “I guess I had better get back to it then. Thanks for putting up with me, I know you’ve got things you need to do.”

  We stood up together. “It’s not a problem, Finn. I love poking fun at you.” I smiled, the words genuine. I didn’t feel as much of a need to be ‘on’ around him, because he had proven that he didn’t care what the real me acted like. I wrapped my arms around him for a quick hug. “Just don’t kill any of your boys, eh? No amount of sleeping around would fix that.” I couldn’t resist the last little jab.

  He groaned and stepped back from the hug. “You’re such a little shit, Sheach. I don’t know how anyone handles it.”

  “They don’t.” I said simply, no inflection to my voice. I did roll my eyes and shrug my shoulders, though. Bit of an obvious answer. No one handled me, or put up with me, or whatever you wanted to call it.

  No matter how hard I tried, and I really did try, I couldn’t keep it together for very long. Something always went wrong somehow or other and no one seemed to understand how hard I’d been trying to just…be normal.

  So, all my foster parents had done anything and everything they could to get rid of the freak kid who ruined everything. Employers went the same way, though slightly more willing to work with me at least in the beginning. Landlords are a little different. They kicked me out because I wasn’t paying them regularly. I could understand that. Well, I could understand all of it, because I wasn’t a very likeable person and perhaps if I was then people would be willing to give me second chances.

  I felt a sudden burning at my eyes, and blinked away tears that had brimmed up, but thankfully hadn’t spilled over. I shoved the thoughts aside, the memories of just wanting to figure out how to fit in, so as not to lose my cool.

  Finn regarded me for a moment before wrapping me in another tight hug. “Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not worth hanging around, OK?”

  I blinked, surprised at the sudden statement and self-conscious that he’d been able to understand where my thoughts had gone. I opened my mouth to say something—to tell him that he was the best friend I’d ever had, to tell him that I didn’t know how to be a good friend. That every friend I’d had growing up had abandoned me at some point or another, or that I’d had to leave for a new foster home, so no matter what I couldn’t get close to people. Not like I’d grown close to Finn. I wanted to explain that he’d become important to me, that I’d grown to regard him as a brother and that it wasn’t a joke, and that scared me. I didn’t do well with emotional displays, so instead I shut my mouth and patted him on the back rather awkwardly before taking a step back. “OK, Finn. No big deal. I’ve gotta go.” I nodded my head towards the door.

  “Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

  “Sure.” I agreed, before remembering that I didn’t really know if I could make it. But he’d already turned around and started walking for the side exit. I didn’t want to prolong the event, just in case he said something else incredibly sappy. So, I let it go and decided to figure it out later, heading out the main exit once again.

  My phone did not ring again, thank the gods.

  5

  I PUT THE CAR IN NEUTRAL AT long last, having circled the damn car park a thousand times trying to find a spot. I hadn’t wanted to do any driving today—really, I never want to drive at all—but
it wasn’t like I knew where I’d be going for this case. Better safe than sorry.

  I got out of the car, slammed the door, then kicked it when it refused to close properly. Piece of shit car. Heading for the double doors of the office building, I methodically patted my pockets to verify my phone was in one pocket and my cigarettes in the other. My messenger bag hung off one shoulder instead of crossing my chest, half folded in its middle due to the lack of items in it. Just the notepad and pencil, and some other basic supplies. Water bottle, granola bars, pocket knife. Never know when you’ll need sustenance on a case. or a knife.

  It was entirely too evident when I walked into the lobby that I did not fit in here. People were buzzing around like robotic worker bees, heels clacking against a marble floor, carrying briefcases and wearing fancy suits. A few eyes turned towards me as I walked through, and I didn’t meet them. I felt them boring into me, and focussed on not pulling my jacket tighter around me and covering up what little I could of my clearly inferior clothing.

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out the business card Mary had given me, checking the suite number on it—106—and headed over to the directory so I could figure out where I was going.

  Only apparently, I have wrong ideas of what a directory should be, because this wasn’t a map that showed me where anything was, it was just a list of companies with their suite names beside them.

  Ugh.

  I debated asking the customer service rep, but passed on it. I just knew they would thumb their nose at me.

  I wandered down a hallway, paying attention to the numbers on doors, and found that at least the building started with this floor as ‘floor one’ instead of ‘floor zero,’ however I was going the wrong way. I turned around and headed back the way I came, crossed the lobby again, and went down the opposite hallway.

  Finally, I found a pair of double doors with ‘106’ above them and entered.

  A secretary was peering down at a computer, typing away.

  I knew I should ask her if the man was in or not, but the money was that he was not in, and I didn’t think she would give me much other information. There was only one hallway leading away from the secretary’s desk, so I just turned and walked down it without saying anything to her—all while holding my breath and hoping she wouldn’t notice me.

  She didn’t, which was a blessing.

  I checked the nameplate on a couple of offices before locating his, and quickly slipped inside, shutting the door behind me so that no one would see me in here.

  The room looked like your average, ordinary office. Generic L-shaped desk, with two monitors and a landline phone sitting on it. No paperwork strewn about, but there was a file holder beside one of the monitors. Filing cabinet beside the desk, along with a waste bin. The beige carpet had little give to it, and no stains that I could see. The walls didn’t have any watermarks, but there was also no artwork or window to look out. Kind of depressing.

  I stepped away from the door I’d been pressing my back against and tried to open the filling cabinet, but it was locked. Scowling at it, I kicked it sharply—immediately followed by gasping, hopping on one foot, and hissing out a few whispered curses.

  Not my most intelligent moment.

  I checked the drawers of the desk, but the contents were just your basic office supplies. Staples, stapler, loose paper, paperclips, yada yada. No key for the cabinet either.

  The computer was my last chance, so I jabbed the power button and whispered a quick prayer that it wouldn’t make much noise while powering up. Last time I’d played with a computer, it had sounded like a freaking jet about to take off. Kind of scary.

  The fans strained a bit, but otherwise no noise, and the monitors lit up with a login window.

  “Fuck me,” I grumbled, glaring down at the screen. I didn’t know enough about the man to try and guess his password, but I figured I’d give it a shot.

  I didn’t have anything left to lose.

  I sat in the chair and placed my fingers on the keyboard. But before I had a chance to type a single character, I heard a faint hissing sound and was greeted with the smell of burning plastic, followed shortly by the monitor screen winking out suddenly.

  I gaped at the screen and looked around to figure out what had happened—the computer was emitting smoke. It had shorted out.

  Well that was bound to garner some attention, and I was all out of options for information to be garnered by the office, so I jumped out of the chair and legged it out of there.

  “Hey! Where’d you come from?” The secretary exclaimed as I made my escape, apparently not too busy to notice me this time.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I didn’t let you in here.”

  “Uh, yeah, you did? You waved me in like ten minutes ago. You were staring at your computer.” I stretched the truth a bit, hoping and praying that she was too busy to have much memory of the past few minutes.

  “Oh.” She frowned and glanced at her computer as if it had betrayed her.

  “Anyway, I was just leaving.” I said, hooking a thumb at the doors to my right, and when she didn’t make any effort to stop me, I slipped out.

  I made it out of the lobby without attracting much more attention than I had when I came in, and breathed a sigh of relief when I was outside again.

  “Fuck me. No leads.” I said aloud, reaching into my pocket and pulling out the pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

  I took a puff and let the rush of nicotine sooth the tense muscles in my back. I had to figure out my next move.

  I walked towards the car, smoking as I did so, and let my eyes drift over the area for anything that might be helpful. My eyes landed on a pub across the street and lit up—what were the odds that a group of stressed business men would go farther than needed to get a drink after work? I was willing to bet it was highly unlikely and, after checking my watch to verify the time, shifted my course. Five o’clock meant it was likely they’d either be there or be getting there soon.

  I reached the bar in the amount of time it took to finish my cigarette, which I took as a sign of good luck as I threw it onto the ground and stepped on it to ensure it was out.

  The pub wasn’t overly packed when I entered, but neither was it dead.

  I scanned the bar, located two suits that looked like they were probably from the office building, and walked up to order a cider.

  “You don’t look like our regular sort.” The barman chuckled as he filled a glass for me.

  I arched an eyebrow. “I can’t tell what you mean by that.” My tone was a tad icy, I took it as an insult.

  He shrugged. “Meant no harm,” he said as he pushed the drink to me. I paid him and swivelled on the bar stool so that my back was to him.

  The bar had a few tables spread out, and there was just enough business so that most tables had a few people seated at each. The two suits were on my left, talking.

  I shifted slightly, running my fingers through my hair, and glanced at one of the suits who happened to be facing towards me. I saw his eyes flick towards me, and instead of trying to catch his eye I let my eyes run over his body—nothing impressive, average build, brown hair, tan skin. When I felt his eyes staying on me, I willed a blush to my cheeks as if he’d affected me and slowly brought my eyes back up to his face, whereupon our eyes locked for a moment.

  I glanced away in a girlish fashion, brushing a hand through my hair so that it would fall across and hide my face as if I was embarrassed.

  It was all too easy.

  I heard his footsteps approach and glanced up with a small smile. “Hi,” I murmured.

  “Hey there,” he said. “What brings you here? You don’t look like you just got off work.”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and instead giggled, as if it was a funny comment.

  “Oh, I was just having a bit of a rough day and thought I’d stop in and get a drink.” I shrugged my shoulders, shook my head from side to side.

  “Aw, a rough day? Girl as pr
etty as you should never have a bad day.” He reached out a hand and stroked my cheek and it was all I could do not to bat his hand away. My skin practically crawled in revulsion. As it was, I hoped my shiver would pass as excitement.

  “Yeah. My friend hasn’t seen her husband in a while, and I offered to help, but…Oh, it’s not important.” I sighed.

  He cocked his head to the side, eyebrows raised. He stopped stroking my cheek and instead rested his hand on my thigh. I contemplated stabbing him.

  “That’s funny. One of my pals is missing. What’s the guy’s name?” he asked.

  I blinked, a bit caught off guard at how easy that had been. “Oh, uh, she’s only ever called him Dee, bit of a pet name. Her last name’s Brady, though.” I offered.

  “Hey, George, come over here.” He called behind him to the suit he’d been talking to, and glanced back at me. “I think we’re missing the same person.”

  “Whoa. What are the odds?” I gasped, pressing my fingertips to my lips.

  His friend, George, approached and thankfully the original leering lounge lizard took his hand off my leg at that point.

  “What’s up?” George asked.

  “Lady’s looking for boss man.”

  “Ah, shit, you and me both.” George said to me now, raising his glass to take a swig. “Not an easy guy to find, even before. He never really had time for any of us, but now he’s completely vanished.”

  I tilted my head to the side and parted my lips slightly, flicking my tongue out to wet my lower lip. “You don’t know anywhere he might be? My friend’s going absolutely crazy not knowing where he is.”

  George shook his head, but his friend looked around before leaning in towards me. “This could get me in a lot of trouble if anyone caught wind of it, but uh…he used to head over to that industrial estate down the road. Looking for a hit.”

  I formed my mouth into a perfect ‘O’ and blinked in surprise a few times, as if I’d never heard of anyone doing such a thing. “Oh, goodness, well I can’t tell her that. But thank you.” I reached out and touched his hand, smiling at him. “I have to go, but that was very helpful.”