Command Indecision (Lexi Graves Mysteries)

Command Indecision

Lexi Graves Mysteries, Book
3

Camilla Chafer

Command Indecision

Copyright: Camilla Chafer

Published:
August
2012

Publisher: Audacious

The right of Camilla Chafer to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

Visit the author online at
www.camillachafer.com
to sign up to her newsletter and for more information on other titles.

Other books:

Lexi Graves Mysteries
:

Armed & Fabulous

Who Glares Wins

Command Indecision

Stella Mayweather Series (Urban Fantasy)
:

Illicit Magic

Unruly Magic

Devious Magic

Magic Rising

Command Indecision

A young woman is dead. The main suspect is in custody. And Private Investigator, Lexi Graves is on the warpath.

Lexi finally feels like her life is on track. With a great job that is made to measure and the perfect boyfriend, it takes all of a few shocking minutes for everything to start falling apart.

Angry and hurt at her boyfriend, Detective Adam Maddox, and his apparent betrayal, Lexi embarks on an undercover job at a nearby military base. Charged with finding evidence that the man accused of killing the young civilian employee isn’t the real murderer, Lexi just hopes to lose herself in the case. She wants to put the past behind her and heal her broken heart.

Maddox, however, keeps popping up during her investigation; and her boss, the mysterious Solomon, appears to be the perfect tonic for her heartache. Lexi soon finds it increasingly hard to keep her mind on the job.

As clues point towards the victim’s dangerous double life, the secrets mount, and time is running out.
With
Maddox’s betrayal not all it seemed, it’s up to Lexi to learn the truth
,
and put the real murderer behind bars.

Chapter One

Our private pow
-
wow every day at the Solomon Agency conference room wa
s one of the few times when
all
the staff
collaborated. That is, if collaboration included eating a box of
donut
s
in ten minutes flat
because I didn’t. So, not a whole lot else was going on around the table of the small boardroom
. Ever since my colleagues discovered that I not only could handle the cases by myself, but also solved three on the go, they were speaking to me with a modicum of respect.

"
These donuts taste like shit,
"
muttered Lucas Givens, our resident tech geek and ex-criminal. He swallowed the last bite of a pink sprinkle donut.

I did say “modicum.”

"Sorry. I forgot how testy you got
when
all the
maple crullers are gone," I snipped back as I peered into the box. It was empty, but for a meager dusting of sugar.

The meeting
wasn't just about
sampling donut
s. Our daily
catch-ups
kept us all clued in on the cases the agency w
as
handling, and the resources needed. Other than that, we largely worked alone or in pairs
, which suited me just fine
. We'd yet to take on a full team op, that I knew about anyway. Somehow, I still didn't think I was getting the full deal
about our caseload
. I was fairly certain Solomon, my boss and irresistible lust interest, took other jobs that he didn't mention, at least, to me. Occasionally, I got a whiff of suspicion that the others might be working on secret stuff with him. But they never said and I never asked. Instead, I kept my eyes open and my ears perked because sooner or later, one of them would drop the ball. Until then, I fought an inner struggle as to whether I should care
,
or not give two figs that they still kept some “boys
’
club only” secret.

The sugar buzz could have made me paranoid, of course.

Today's meeting seemed to be skipping along at its usual pace.
Steve
Fletcher
,
e
x-CIA man and pain-in-the-butt,
was still working on his current surveillance case.
Lucas
was overwhelmed at dealing with our many requests for information, as per usual, but seeming to enjoy it. Or in his words
:
"I haven't been arrested this year, so,
awesome
."
Tony
Delgado's case got approved after running through the top line details
. His hard, angular face was pinched with concentration
.

“I’m out of here,” Fletcher mumbled through a yawn he stifled with the back of his hand. He waved at us as he backed out of the office. Solomon looked up from his paperwork, nodded, and returned to the case file he was reading.

I tapped my fingers against my leg and held back my yawn by biting the insides of my cheeks and pulling a face.
I had nothing, which sucked
. Not even a pro bono case, o
therwise known as the “no-hopers” that no one saw any merit in other than I.
As per my agreement with Solomon, which had something to do with simultaneously solving three cases,
I got to pick a no-hoper pro bono if I saw one that intrigued me. But it seemed like there wasn't a lot of crime happening in Montgomery right now. No bosses needed us to snoop on employees potentially defrauding them; there were no cheating spouses or missing persons; or cold cases that needed fresh eyes. Either the criminals had given up or just gotten smarter. Per
sonally, I thought they were
probably on a break. It would give me time to catch up on a few personal things, like, oh, having a life. I wasn'
t the only one; Fletcher
looked about ready to
fall a
sleep
before he took off
. Matt Flaherty, an ex-detective who was rendered an invalid and taken off the force by
the lasting effects of
a bullet, was making noises about going home and painting his house
, and Lucas was licking the sugar from his fingers
.

From beginning to end, our meeting took only ten minutes, so when I got up to file out after my colleagues, I was expecting to tootle home and do nothing,
or hang with my best gal pal, Lily Shuler. I hoped to take advantage of her downtime and my boyfriend’s work schedule, since he was currently undercover
. Such was the nature of our work. I could work non-stop on a case, evenings and weekends included; then hit a dry spell, which even made my laundry look interesting. Fortunately, I had better plans: they involved Lily, a bottle of tequila, and a bucket of limes. Lily texted me to let me know it would be “epic.”

"Lexi?" Solomon's voice stopped me
as I picked up the empty donut box. I was ready to trash it before I exited the office, hot on Lucas’ heels.

"Yup?" I plastered a smile on my face, turning back to him
as Flaherty squeezed past
.

"Close the door."

Oh
no
. The last time we had a “close the door” conversation, it resulted with me getting furious and insulted. My heart plummeted as I tapped the door shut and took Fletcher's vacated seat. Apparently, none of my colleagues could figure out why Solomon had hired a formerly-blonde bimbo who wore cute, little skirts and high heels. Since that time, I'd been wearing pants or jeans, (still with heels because I do have standards), and I solved a bunch of cases
. Right now, they could suck it.
Tequila not included.
I could wear whatever I liked.

"I've got a job that I want you to work on wit
h me," said Solomon, cutting in
to my internal indignation.

"Oh?" That was a surprise.
I blinked. Twice.

Solomon glanced up, his liquid chocolate eyes roaming briefly and alighting on me, but giving nothing away.
"But it's something that you can refuse."

I was intrigued. Solomon wasn't keen on the word “no.” He definitely liked the word “yes.”  I occasionally had the fleeting thought that he probably liked “yes, yes,
yes!
” a whole lot, not that I'd ever found myself in a position with him where that slipped from
my
mouth! I'd been firm on that front. Our relati
onship was strictly professional; plus, I had a boyfriend:
Adam Maddox, detective, hottie and all around good guy. The very thought of him could make my heart sing.

"Go on," I said.
The door swung shut with a light click.

"A
n old
fr
iend of mine at Fort Charles
requested our help. There was a murder last week and the main suspect is in custody."

"So why do they want to hire us?" I asked, cutting to the chase.

Solomon leaned back in his chair, his eyes running over me for a long moment, long enough to make me shiver.  Then he answered. "My friend thinks they've got the wrong guy."

"Isn't this a military police case?"
I asked. My eyebrows were pinched together as I thought of everything I knew about
Fort Charles
. I had a vague mental image of a sprawling compound,
around
thirty
miles
south of Montgomery. It housed a sizeable population of
serving Army
personnel
, their families, and civilian workers. Every so often, the soldiers would whoop it up in Montgomery, drink the town dry, and wake up in the wrong beds. Then there would be a crackdown, during which we wouldn't see them again for months. It was something my best friend, Lily, used to lament before she started dating my brother, Jord. Now she only had eyes for him.
And he’d become a soppy idiot.

"The military police are involved, but we're not being hi
red by them," Solomon explained as he flipped a page.
"The suspect is a sergeant who works in the gym.
Nathaniel Tate.
The
person
killed was a civilian working on base."

"Some kind of
argument
?" I asked. I don't know why I bothered. If it had been a
simple
misunderstanding, Solomon would have said so. And he wouldn't have even brought it up, because we wouldn't have been hired. I haven't known Solomon for too long, but I do know he likes an interesting case
.

Solomon shook his head. "Doesn't seem to be. They were known to each other, but nothing extra special from what my man tells me.
The victim was a woman.
"

"Was there some kind of fight?" Ah, a spark in his eyes.
Bingo
.

"
A
pparently,
there was
an argument a few hours before
the murder, but it's un
confirmed,
as of yet
. The suspect isn't cooperating."

I rested my back against the door jamb and contemplated that.
"If the military police can't get him to mouth off, why does your friend think we can?"

"He doesn't. He wants me undercover. I'm going to be talking to everyone else."

I had to admit, as much I thought myself pretty solid during investigations, I
felt
this was more of a case for one of my colleagues. Aside from my brief skirmish with the Army,
which ended at boot camp,
I wasn't what anyone would call a “hard
-
ass.” I'm slight and pretty, and I favor nice dresses a
nd heels, and I like to look groomed, not drenched in sweat on a run
. I don't like camo much.
It doesn’t match my eyes.
I don't enjoy macho man-posturing, unless it's for my benefit; and I definitely don't like the Army. It's too muddy. Literally. I decided against it on my
first mud crawl and flunked out
. However, I doubted Solomon much cared what I thought of military fashion. "Wouldn't Fletcher or Delgado be better for this?" As soon as I said it, I realized he would already have asked them if he thought so, which begged the question, why ask me?

As I pushed off the wall, pulling out a chair, Solomon replied,
"I thought a woman would be better on this one."

The one occasion where my boobs w
on
.

Solomon thought it quite advantageous to have a woman on
staff. He believed I could get in
to places or talk to people where big, hard-looking men
,
(i.e. my colleagues)
,
couldn't. The only reason I found for Solomon to hire me over a female ex-cop or an experienced investigator was because he had a soft spot for me
… That a
nd because he found a brain he liked, mine, one he could mold to his own style of investigating. He also admitted he liked to look at my legs in the office, but I'm not sure if he was joking.
I suspected not.

"Why's that?"

"
The victim was a woman,” Solomon answered, rifling his file and coming up with a photo, which he held up. “This is
Jillian Connor. She was working on base part-time, temping. Stands to reason the people she would talk to most, and socialize with, would be other women,
and most likely, civilians
."

Possibly sexist
,
but not necessarily untrue. I like to think that I could get along with anyone, but I have three older brothers
,
all
cops,
and I can hold my own with any mouthy uniform. But this was Fort Charles, where testosterone-laden Army boys were so butch, it hurt. They were probably all big mommas’ boys in truth, but I couldn't see them having long heart-to-hearts with a civilian female temp.

"So you want me to go undercover and get friendly with her pals?"
I guessed.

"That's about it."

"How long will it take?"

I think Solomon must've heard the sigh in my question, or perhaps, the longing for the tequila slammers, because he said, "A couple weeks, maybe, and the pay will be shit. Basic, with no percentage. That's why I said you could refuse it."

A couple of weeks. It didn't sound so bad, except I hadn't seen Maddox in
a little over
fo
ur weeks, as he was out of town o
n an undercover op. What he was doing undercover I didn't know because Maddox didn't share that kind of information with me. It was now two weeks since we'd last spoken. I left a couple of messages on his answering service, which he hadn't returned. I was resisting the urge to leave another, in case he thought I was needy, which I wasn't. I just missed him. From what he said during our last, fleeting conversation, there was a good chance that he would come home in the next two weeks. I didn't want to miss that by being out of town on a stake-out. Plus, I was as horny as hell with high hopes for absolutely no sleep within the first twenty-four hours that Maddox got off duty.