Command Indecision (Lexi Graves Mysteries) (22 page)

Funnily enough, I hadn't even thought ahead to the next week or the week after.
I wondered what that said about me.

And now this.

Problem was
, despite my concerns,
I did believe Maddox. Maddox
could be
a smooth liar
when he chose to be.
When I met him, he was undercover, pretending to be someone else
,
and he could fool anyone. But was there something in the way his voice cracked, the hurt in his eyes that made me trust him
now
? I did believe that I'd made a mistake, and that he was telling me the truth.

What
I couldn't fathom
was
what that made me? Was I a cheat? Was I allowed an indiscretion? And would he ever forgive me if he found out that I'd slept with Solomon, and not just once?

Solomon.

Solomon who thought things were over between Maddox and me. Not that we'd discussed or analyzed what happened yet. I once t
hought if anything did happen, Solomon
would merely be an indent in the pillow, but so far, he was proving me wrong. He was there every day and he played his part as my husband, my lover, and with more enthusiasm than necessary. Of course, this was pretend. This wasn't real, I told myself. Next week, or the week after, whenever the case closed, and we went back to our lives, what happened then? Would he put the week behind us and go back to being my boss? Or would he continue to want me? Much as it hurt me to admit it, I couldn't see us having a relationship that was dating, simply light and frothy, then working in the
s
ame building, side-by-side, every day.
Not the Solomon who bought a family home as a base in Montgomery; not the same man who single-handedly raised his siblings after his parents’ death. That Solomon was a very different man to the one on whom I’d initially based my assumptions.

I couldn't see him with me, wanting me; and I couldn't see him having me and letting me work undercover or risking my welfare in dangerous situations. He hired me to do a job, because he thought I would make a good investigator. I'd already proven that. I wanted to continue to prove that. I
loved
my job.

And no matter how much I analyzed it during those few minutes as I approached the bar, the sounds of music drifting towards me as Kevin geared up for the after-work crowd, I couldn't see a happy ending for me. Whatever happened, it was going to hurt; and right now, I didn't know what I wanted.

I plastered on my game face, pushed the door open, and went inside.

Job f
irst.

L
ove life later.

Chapter Fifteen

Kevin was pleased to see me, though it probably had a lot to do with the free labor and less to do with my smiling mug
,
probably no
t expecting me to show up at all
.

Funny thing was, I actually looked forward to helping out, not that I was his only volunteer. Gretchen beat me to it. When s
he saw me, she waved eagerly
and brought a carton,
overflowing with patriotic ribbons
. She dropped it onto the bar next to me as Kevin poured me a complimentary glass of wine.
It was all I could do not to stick my nose into it and inhale.

"Are you helping us decorate for the homecoming?" she asked, reaching for a Coke.

"If you guys still need help?" I looked around at the festively bedecked bar. Red, white and blue hung everywhere. Bunting was strung across the
ceiling
, streamers covered the pillars, and each chair was festooned with colored ribbons
in triplicate, then
tied into bows. "It looks like you have everything covered. When do the troops come home?"

"Day after tomorrow. We're all so excited."

"I doubled my orders," said Kevin, leaning across the bar to pass Gretchen scissors. "The bar will be dry by the time we're done."

"It's going to get rowdy, huh?"

"Totally. You should come. Bring your husband too."

My husband. I gulped. Since Maddox's speech
less than ten minutes ago
, those two words felt like sawdust in my mouth. "Sure. Sounds like fun," I squeezed out. "Where do you want me?"

"You can help me with the chairs," said Gretchen, rifling through the carton and coming up with an armful of ribbon. "Then we're almost done."

I tried to lose myself in the process of wrapping, tying, and curling the ribbon ends, while focusing as little as possible on the two men in my life. It was more a way of preserving my sanity than anything
else
, though I did have to head into the bathroom once and stand in a stall, giving myself a pep talk. I had a wad of tissue under my eyes to stem the tears that flooded them when Gretchen chattered about her new boyfriend.

"You okay?" she asked when I returned
, resuming my position as ribbon wrangler
.

"Got something in my eye," I said.

"Want me to take a look?"

"No, it's okay. Thanks."

"No problem." She looked around
and waved a hand at the empty bar
. "This is fun, isn't it?"

Clearly, her expectations of fun were substantially lower than mine, or maybe I was just in a sulk. "Sure," I lied. "Lots of fun."

"Yeah, I know, it's a little lame to think a few streamers can make up for everything our troops endure over there, but it's just a little token of our appreciation."

Guilt niggled at me. Gretchen was right. If this made her happy, and she thought she was helping, then it was a good thing. It also kept my mind off the two men in my life, so bonus points for that. "You've done a great job," I told her. "Is
your boyfriend... Hoag, right? Is he
going to help out?"

"Oh, no, but we'll probably do something later. He's got some friends flying in tomorrow. It's his unit, you see."

I frowned. "Oh? How come he's here?"

"Got hit, took a bullet and he's still going through physio. He's determined to make it out on their next tour, but..." Gretchen leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, "I'm not sure he’ll pass for active duty."

"That bad?"
Sergeant Hoag
didn't look that injured to me, but I guess it could have been something that he concealed well. Maybe he was just more relaxed around Gretchen, and let the pain show.

She nodded. "Yeah. He's in physio every other day and he's trying real hard, but..."

"I'm sure it'll help having his unit back."

She brightened. "Do you think so?"

"Sure. All his friends. All this." I waved my hand around the bar. "And he's got you."

"Yeah. He says I'm the best thing that happened to him. And he's been really upbeat during the last week."

"That's good."

"It is, isn't it? You know, I never thought he'd go for someone like me. He's so handsome and popular; and I didn't think he ever looked twice at me until, well, Jillian's funeral, but you know what? He never thought I'd be interested in him! Isn't that crazy?"

"Crazy, all right," I agreed.

"I wish Jillian was here so I could tell her she was wrong about
Jack
. Oh God, that makes me sound mean. I just meant, she never liked
Jack
much. I wish I could tell her what a great guy he really is."

I wanted to ask why Jillian didn't like
Jack Hoag,
but before I could, an arm wrapped around Gretchen's middle and she squealed. She looked up and beamed at
Hoag
with adoration. I didn’t hear his soft-footed approach. "Talking about me?" he asked.

"No!" She giggled and blushed, which was about as good a giveaway as any.

"Just came by to say hi.
T
he guys
and I
are heading out later. Did you get everything for tomorrow?"

"Yes. All set. Everything you asked for."

"Good girl," he said, patting her on the back
in a way that seemed more friendly than romantic
.
Maybe he wasn’t so much a PDA man either?
"I'll catch up with you later. Nice to see you," he said to me, before walking away, and heading back out the door. Through the window, I saw him greet Solomon, who was on his way in, then walk towards the parking lot.

Solomon came straight over and leaned down to kiss me, but at the last moment, I turned my head and he got my cheek. He didn’t say anything, although I saw a question in his eyes.
I wondered if he knew Maddox was here yet.

"What brings you here?" I asked.

"I just finished at the gym and was walking past when I saw you in here. What are you doing?"

"Helping to decorate for the homecoming."

"Looks good. Can they spare you? We have a few errands to run."

"No problem," chirped Gretchen
, holding her hand out for the scissors
. "I can finish up here."

"I guess that's a yes," he said, weaving his fingers with mine. "Let's go."

"What's so urgent?" I asked him when we got outside
, the bar door slamming shut behind us, thanks to a sudden gust of wind
.

Solomon pulled a blue streamer from my hair and tossed it into the trash can. "
Lucas
has some information. Thought it would be easier if we both called, rather than relay it later."

Solomon, the lone operator, wanted to share? "Thanks."

"Any gossip on Roxanne?" he asked.

"None. I'm kind
of worried. I called her office
this morning, pretending I wanted to speak to her, but they said she called in sick. She couldn't have done that.
And I went to see her family and her mother didn’t seem worried either. Actually, she was kind of dazed. I think she might be under medication.
"

"
Huh.
Maybe someone made her call in," Solomon suggested as we strolled in the direct
ion of the apartment

"Then they don't want her
reported missing," I concluded.

“At least we have a live point.”

“Live point?”

“Roxanne was alive this morning to make that call.”

“Oh.” That didn’t sound very reassuring to me.

"Usually a kidnapper wants everyone close to the victim to know he or she is gone. That way, when a ransom demand comes in, the family pays it.
No question.
"

"If they don't want a ransom,
assuming they haven’t called one in,
what could they want Roxanne for?"

"I'm going with they need her alive for something, or they need her out of the way. They won't kill her, if that's what they intend to do, until whatever business they have with her is done. Two bodies, two sisters, would be too suspicious," he pointed out.

We stopped talking as we walked inside the building, waiting wordlessly until we were safely inside the apartment. Solomon, whom I couldn't pin down as acting paranoid or just clever, put a finger to his lips. I waited and watched while he
pulled a small gadget from his jacket pocket and
swept the place for bugs before we started talking again.

"Is that necessary?" I asked.
“You didn’t do that before?”

"I think so. Something weird is going on here."

"This can't be just about Jillian
anymore
," I said, dropping onto the couch. Solomon joined me a moment later, arranging his laptop and cell phone on the small coffee table.

"I agree. Jillian was in the way. Her murder might not have been intentional."

"But framing Tate was."

"After the fact. I'm working on the theory that whatever Jillian knew, Tate and Roxanne potentially knew too."

"So kill Jillian and she's out of the way. Then get Tate framed and sent to jail. He's out of the way." I checked him off my fingers. "Then kidnap Roxanne, she's out of the way, too."

"Lot of effort. Has to be something big and something soon." Solomon dialed and set his phone to “speaker,” holding it between us. "I don't like what you found in Roxanne's room."

"Me neither. You know, when we were in Jillian's house, there was a gap on her kitchen counter; it would have been the right size for that
cake
box. I think Jillian either gave it to Roxanne, or Roxanne took it.
Maybe after Jillian was killed.
That's not all." I kept my voice even and unconcerned
while the phone continued to ring out
, even if my heart pounded. "Maddox came by just as I was leaving the house. He came to the base too."

"Did he have anything for us?"

"Just that the cash I found is tied to his money laundering case.
He’s been working some kind of undercover operation, and both Jillian and Roxanne are involved somehow.
"

"What are these guys up to?" mus
ed Solomon. "Drugs. Cash.
Murder.
This is some serious shit."

No kidding.
“It wasn’t much money. Two thousand isn’t enough to kill someone… right?” Even as I said it, I wasn’t so sure.

“I estimate the drugs you found at two hundred thousand.”

“Wow.”

Lucas Givens
came on the line, interrupting us.

Solomon snapped to a business tone.
"What have you got?"

"The money in Jillian's account has been a big problem," said
Lucas
. "The deposits were all traced to one account, but from that point of origin, it's been bounced all over the place. Shell corporation to shell corporation."

"This doesn't sound good," I said.

"That Lexi? Hey!"

"Hey, Lucas."

"Anyway, as I was tracing it, the corporations started to close down. Someone's covering their tracks."

"Did you find the initial account?"
Solomon wanted to know.

"No, talk about convoluted. I don't know if the person operating the account is a genius or an idiot. Instead, I'm tracing the money that was also in another account. It's bouncing around at the moment, but when I get to an end point, I'll let you know."

"How much are we talking?" asked Solomon, whistling when
Lucas
told him.

"What if there isn't an end point?" I asked. "If this cash is illegal, won't they withdraw it and start over afresh? The money will be clean for distribution; maybe they open a new account with a cash deposit, buy a business, or just stuff it under the mattress?"

They didn't need to say it, but
Lucas
did anyway. "We're screwed.”

"Keep at it," Solomon told him.

"There's another thing,"
Lucas
cut in before Solomon could hang up. "Jillian got phone calls in the weeks before she died
. It’s a burner, so no names
. That phone was off until an hou
r ago. I got pinged when it
turned on."

"Monitor it," said Solomon. "I want to know any outgoing and incoming calls and where it's located."

"Already on it and I have a location. You're not going to like it. A call was made ten minutes ago. I triangulated the closest towers, and it came from Fort Charles. Before you ask, the call was made to another burner, then both phones were switched off."