Who Glares Wins (Lexi Graves Mysteries) (3 page)

No boyfriend listed, but there was a name and address for the guy Marissa had been see
ing
up
until a couple of years ago.
There was no reason given for the break
-
up
,
but Elisabeth
noted
that Marissa
wasn’t
upset. Three friends
were listed
and Elisabeth included their phone numbers and addresses. There was no current employment, which I found odd, because already
,
I got the impression that Marissa was a grafter. She might not stay in a job long, but she always had one. She couldn't afford not to. Plus, judging by her eclectic work history, she had a lot of transferable skills
. S
he was adaptable to whatever job was available
and didn’t seem stuck on any one thing
. I peeled off a
bright yellow
,
stick
y note
, wrote
“
job?
” on it
and stuck it to the sheet,
with
the colored edge sticking out.

I could see why the police hadn't looked any further. Other than Elisabeth, Marissa didn't have any strong ties to Montgomery. No important job, no nice apartment, no boyfriend. No future to look forward to. Except that last bit was
only
an assumption. Who knew what hopes and dreams Marissa had
?

Mid-
afternoon
, just when I was getting bored and
half of
my colleagues had disappeared,
I got a call from Jim
,
telling me Elisabeth had dropped off an envelope. I collected it, and waited until I was back in my chair before I slid my thumb under the flap and tore it open. The second form was completely filled out, including bank information, the type of car Marissa
drove
,
and the plates.

Entering the password into my laptop, I called up a couple of programs Solomon installed. One was a credit check agency and I ran background check
s
on Marissa,
first,
then on Elisabeth. I knew Elisabeth didn't have a lot of money because she said so, but it never hurt to know what her financial patterns were, especially if we took the case.
Solomon didn’t share the business’ financial information with me, but since he’d never taken a pro
bono case, I had to assume he wanted to turn a profit
.

T
he search for Marissa
now moved to
whether
there was
anything
unusual to flag
. Had she taken out a loan
? O
r gotten a new credit card?
Did
her spending
exceed her income
?
Was she making payments for anything unusual
? O
r had she withdrawn
all
her money recently
?
Th
ose
sort
s
of thing
s
.

Next, I placed a call to Maddox
, my number one police contact
,
and the man voted most likely—in my head, anyway—to
turn
my insides mushy
. He answered after a couple of rings.

"This is a nice surprise," he said,
in a warm
voice.
I heard a loud creak and imagined him leaning back in his chair,
amidst
paperwork
that had already passed from one detective to another
strewn across a
n ancient desk
,
its
wood scored over
many
decades.
The
steady hum of background chatter filtered down the line.

"
Hi, Adam,” I said, my stomach doing a little flop at the sound of his voice. “
It's a work call, sorry."

"Trade you."

"Pardon?"

"You're going to ask me to check on something or do something. I want to trade."
I imagined the smile in his eyes.

"Mmm? You're a terrible snitch. What do you want?" I smiled to myself. No matter how
often
I bugged Maddox over the past couple of months, he always helped out
. Usually
with a suggestion, like how to tail someone without being seen
,
or easy tells for liars.
However, I wasn’t going to take his advice on handcuffs again.
Sometimes, however, I called him
just
because I liked hearing his voice.
After all, there were plenty of other people I could call at MPD
,
and we both knew it.

"Dinner. My place. Tonight."

That was surprisingly easy. "Done."

"You can bring the food." Ahh, the catch.

"
Hah. Okay, y
ou got me and it's no problem. What
do you want?
"

"You pick. And n
ow you've driven a hard bargain…
" Maddox laughed. "What do you want?"

"Can you run a plate for me?"

"Any reason why?"

"A case. I'm not sure
yet
. I just want to know if the car's been flagged."

"Sure,
"
he agreed, not bothering to lecture me on the legality
, or lack thereof,
for
a PI
to request
confidential information
from a cop
.

I gave him the plate and hung up
when he said he would call me back
on my cell phone
. I was pretty pleased about t
onight’s
date,
not to mention
the forthcoming information.
Talking to Maddox was pleasurable and I suspected he knew it.

Elisabeth and Marissa's financial reports wouldn't be back for a while, so I powered down my laptop and locked it in my desk drawer.

"I'm out of here," I said,
waving
to
Lucas
, computer wonderboy, and Tony Delgado, an ex-military man built like a linebacker,
before leaving
. I preferred
taking the back stairs to walk down to the underground parking lot we shared with the other
occupant
s of the building.

Solomon was on his way up. I
spotted his
ultra
-
short
,
black hair bobbing up the stairs as he took them two at a time
. He came
into view
only
a moment before he saw me.

"I'm heading out," I told him,
as I paused on the small half-
landing. Solomon
wore
his usual
thigh-
hugging
jeans
—though I didn’t think he wore them for the effect it had on me,
which was
somewhere between skipping a heartbeat and drooling—and
boots
that looked beaten from years of wear
. T
oday
, they were
paired with a dark knit
, v-neck
sweater,
its
narrow incline
exposing
a black t-shirt
with just
a hint of dark skin. O
ver his shoulder
,
he carried a backpack. I wondered where he'd been the past couple of hours
,
and if it had anything to do with his conversation with Fletcher.
I noticed they both
disappeared while I attended to Elisabeth.

Solomon
raised his eyebrows,
eyeing
me over
as he climbed the last two
ste
ps,
and came
to a stop next to me
. He was
looking down
at me
expectantly
. I
waited for him to tell me that it wasn't working out, or that Fletcher was right
,
and I really wasn't cut out for sleuthing,
but
he just nodded
.
T
he corners of his lips edg
ed
into a smile, the kind of smile
to
make
a heart forget its job.

"I can see that. Working?" Solomon
employed everyone on a flexible-
hours basis. The idea was
simple. C
ases like the ones
the agency took
were not
on
a
nine
-
to
-
five
daily basis,
so neither
were
we.
However, i
f,
for instance,
surveillance was needed in the evening, we
had
to do it, and weekends
were never
off limits. On the plus side, sleeping in wasn't a problem
,
and I could take off for a day or two
,
as long as
nothing was happening. Despite
my
years of office work and keeping regular hours, I liked th
is new arrangement much better
,
regardless of the haphazard
hours.

"Checking a few things out.
A
missing person
came in
," I told him.

He grinned, his liquid
-
chocolate eyes amused. “Case solved.”

I gave him a little eye roll, not enough to see brain
,
but enough to show him he wasn’t funny. Even though he was
,
because I had to nip the insides of my cheeks to stop the smile that
nearly
appear
ed
.

"Any red flags?"
he continued.

I shook my head. "None
yet
. The police aren't interested apparently
,
but
her
best friend thinks there's something off. I see no reason for the woman to
vanish
, and no reason for her not to."
I lifted one shoulder in a shrug and let it drop.

"Bring it to the meeting tomorrow." Solomon's daily office meeting was the time when we talked through various cases and their merits
, before deciding
on our workloads. It wasn't completely obligatory
,
but it
also
wasn't
ignored
. "I may have something for you as well."

"Okay. See you tomorrow."

"Lexi."
Solomon nodded and turned away to continue mounting the stairs
.
I breathed a sigh of relief. Still had a job.

I
clattered down
the
last
flight of stairs
hurriedly,
before it crossed
Solomon’s
mind to fire me
,
and made my way across the lot to my
VW
.
Solomon’s black Lexus LX
was
parked in the space next to it, looking like the car my car
dreamt it could
be
. I
tried not
to
feel guilty about stretching the truth.
It was true that I was going to check on a couple of things. For one, I
wanted
to run by Marissa's place and see if anything stuck out. Mostly though, I
intended
to run home, shower, change
,
and get some food to take to Maddox
’s place
. Solomon
, however,
did not need to know that.

Solomon and I
maintain
a strictly professional relationship
. N
ot long ago, when we worked
our first
case together,
and
before Solomon started his own company, there was some kissing involved
—
very, very nice kissing. The type that makes you heat up from inside out,
and
makes your mind turn to marshmallow fluff
,
rendering you
unable to think of... where was I?
Oh, yeah.
Solomon even kissed me when he offered me the job, and I kissed him back when I took it.