Armed and Fabulous (Lexi Graves Mysteries) (21 page)

"Well..."

"Mindy will go crazy that she didn't think of it."

That clinched it.

"But we can still do games?"
Serena asked.

"Yes, we can still do games. It'll be very grown up and chic
,
but with traditional elements
. You could change the way people do baby
showers in Montgomery." And I'd get pretty toenails too. "Plus
,
if we do it at your house
,
the venue is free, so we can
splurge
on the fun stuff. You could ask Alessandro's to cater. They wo
uld
n't say no to you."

We paused to order, lasagna for me
—corpse or no corpse, I was hungry—while
Serena took a long time to discount anything with shellfish, soft cheese and nuts
. She
fin
al
ly settled on a half portion of lasagna
with
a side salad, no dressing. If this
wa
s what pregnancy did to women, I'd probably starve before the first trimester was over.

"Can you arrange everything?" Serena
asked as she
passed me her credit card. "I don't have time. My workload is huge. I was lucky to get today off."

"You don't take Saturdays off?"

"Not usually, but I figured, what the hell, the pregnancy has probably cost me
the
partnership anyway, I may as well take a Saturday off. They'll probably give it to that asshole
,
Jeff Walters
,
even though I've worked seventy
-
hour weeks for years."
Her jaw stiffened.

Sheesh. I never heard Serena swear. She seemed to shake herself, and the mask slipped back into place.

"They're not go
ing to promote someone over you,
"
I said with certainty.

"Sure they will. They've done it to every other woman in the practice. I thought if I worked harder than anyone else, if I put in my hours, worked more weekends, they wouldn't be able to pass me up. But since I told them I was pregnant, it's Jeff that my boss takes golfing, and Jeff
whom
he takes to dinner."

"You hate golf," I pointed out. "It's a silly sport."

"It's not the golf. It's the corner office and the salary."

"Why don't you leave? If they're going to screw you over anyway
?
W
hy not just leave first?"

"Did I mention the salary?"

"Yeah. Right after you mentioned how they screw over every woman in the company who dares to have a baby. Why don't you set up your own practice?
Everyone needs an accountant.
"

Serena tilted her head to one side. "I never thought of that. Ted would hate it."

"Ted hates everything."

Surprisingly, Serena laughed. "He is a little uptight."

I wisely kept my mouth shut because
Serena
saying Ted was a little uptight was like saying Kim Kardashian's marriage
s were
a little short
-lived
.

Relaxing
while the waiter delivered our plates and refilled
our glasses with mineral water—Serena nixed the wine—
I contemplated my sister. Serena had always known exactly what she wanted in life, and had gone all out for it. I was as surprised as anyone when she moved back to Montgomery
,
but by that time
,
she was already engaged to Ted
. He was
her college boyfriend,
had a job here, and she was interviewing, finally settling on her current employers, and rising swiftly through the ranks. I knew she worked hard, but the crazy hours w
ere
a blow to me, not to mention her pinched lips when she talked about them
possibly
firing her for the pregnancy.
There was an awful lot I didn’t know about my sister.

Thinking about her number
-
crunching made Dean's notebook flash
back
into my mind.
I was s
itting
opposite a person who loved number puzzles.

"Serena, I want to ask you a question about numbers."

She paused, a forkful of salad halfway to her mouth and arched an eyebrow. "Numbers?" she said. "Do you have a tax problem?"

"No. It's more of a puzzle. I've got a list of numbers and I need to know what they mean."

"Tell me about the list." The fork disappeared into her mouth.

"Well, it's divided into sections which might mean something and the numbers a
re varying lengths, split into four
parts.
Eliminating
dates
and
phone numbers, and I
doubt
they're
bank
account numbers, I have no clue what they
could be
."

"Do you have the key?"

"Huh?"

"It might be an encryption and all keys have encryptions. Is it a work thing?"

"Sort of. It's a project I'm working on and I'm supposed to work out what they mean." It wasn't strictly a lie.
The notebook was so odd
,
I had a hunch it could mean something. Solomon’s insult snapped into my mind.
Blondie
could work it, I thought with determination.
"Why would someone use an encryption?"

"It's
pretty
standard to keep things secret. The numbers might be names or words, represented by digits. If you find out the key, you can work out the code."

"That's kind of paranoid."

"Only if they aren't out to get you," said Serena.

Someone had definitely been out to get Dean, that much was clear. If he w
ere
up to something that he didn't want anyone to find out, like say, oh,
insurance fraud
, an encryption sounded like a good idea. There was a chance I might have really found something useful. There was a first time for everything!
Also: Solomon could suck it.

"So how do I find an encryption key?"

"It depends
on
how complicated it is. It might be as simple as working out the most obvious letters, like the vowels
,
and guessing from there. Or it could be that the numbers equal a movement of places up or down the alphabet from a specific point. That's if it's a simple
,
manual
,
alphabetic
code. Some encryptions are machine
-
made
,
and unless you have the same equipment, you won't be able to crack it."

I had to hope that Dean couldn't access anything like that and would have to opt for a simpler code. That would make it easier to
decipher
.

"You're talking about hundreds of possible combinations,"
continued
Serena. "And that's
just
for words that make sense. Names are tougher. And it could be a number
-
for
-
number encryption. It could be as simple as each number moving, say, two places up from where it's supposed to be. I've seen that on fraud before."

Great.

"I don't suppose you could ask whoever made the codes?"
she asked.

Not
without a medium. "No. He's...
out of town."

"You're smart, you'll crack it."

I looked up from where I'd been stabbing the lasagna, red sauce oozing out of the tine marks. "Thanks,
" I said, trying not to
bristle at
the sudden, unexpected praise.
If my sister believed in me…
I smiled.

"Now about this shower." Serena
curtly
slipped a typed sheet of paper out of the scrapbook and passed it to me. "Here'
s the list of invitees. I have the
stationers on standby. The web address is on here. All you have to do is finalize
the location—
which w
ill be easy
now,
as it's at my house—
and time, and get them to print it. They will mail everything."

"When's the date?"

"Next week."

"Next week!"

"Keep your hair on. Everyone got a save
-
the
-
date months ago."

"You sent save-
the
-
dates for your baby shower!"
I thought about it. “I didn’t get one.”

"I don't get many days off. I have to be organized.
And you’re family.
"

I got my notepad and pen out of my bag and looked sadly at my lasagna
,
which was probably going to get cold while I took notes. Given the time constraints, there wasn't
any grace period
for messing about. We had to get military about this; it was better
for
Serena
to
give me her list of demands
so
I
could work
like hell to
fulfill
them
. If not,
I'd be forever known as
the sister who ruined her first,
(
and let’s hope
,
only
)
,
child's baby shower. "Tell me everything you need."

~

An hour later, I left Alessandro's with a full tummy, a splotch of creamy sauce on my shoe
, (
no explanation
how it got there
),
a thirty-six point list of Serena's instructions for her
imminent baby shower
,
and a
prepaid reservation for
catering the shower next week.
God-parenting
had better have its perks. I
was
hop
ing
for a regular supply of daintily drawn cards
on which I was
depict
ed
as something benevolent like an angel, a
tiny,
nice-smelling child to supply snuggles
,
and
a
profound respect from Serena
for my nurturing throughout its life
.