The Tangled Web (13 page)

Christos says…

But she knows who I am.  She knows you and I are good
friends.

Vicky says…

I’ll explain to her that I can’t do the assignment because
I know you too well and that’s why she has to do it.

Christos says…

*sings Secret Agent Man*

Vicky says…

LOL

Christos says…

I think I might actually enjoy being in on this ;)

Vicky says…

GTG, time to go to Flic’s for the meeting.  Bye sweetie ;)
*hugs*

Christos says…

Bye agapi mou :) *hugs and kisses back*

10

6
^th
February

‘He’s made us sound like virtual prostitutes!’ Flic
seethed. 

‘We’re only virtual prostitutes if we have cybersex for
money,’ Pamela countered.

‘But that’s how he’s made it sound.’ Flic pouted and threw
the newspaper down on the table in front of Magnus.  ‘And it makes YOU sound
like a pimp.’

Magnus frowned.  ‘There’s no such thing as bad publicity, Felicity.’

‘That’s NOT my name.  And you suck as a poet, Sherlock
Poems’

‘I’m a fantastic songwriter and you know it!  How can I
possibly suck as a poet?’

Adam bashed the flat of his left palm on the table
melodramatically.  ‘I call this meeting to order!’  

He was determined to make a success of his short period of
time working for HunE-trap Investigations.  He didn’t care that this was his
first staff meeting with them.  Having spent the last couple of weeks relying
on, firstly the hospital staff, and now Flic, he just wanted to be useful
again.  If that meant taking charge and acting as the leader, then he would do
so.

The room fell silent and all heads turned toward Adam.

‘Jeez, who made you the boss?’ Pamela tutted.

‘The same person who decided you could work for us,’ Vicky
scoffed.  ‘Carry on Adam.’

Adam straightened up as much as he possibly could and
peered at his almost illegible notes.  Writing with his left hand had been
difficult. 

‘First item on the agenda, the name of the business.  Is
everyone still happy to call us HunE-trap Investigations?  And happy with the
spelling?  Even though it looks like Hune Trap?  All in favour of keeping this
name please raise your hands.’

They all raised their hands. 

‘Good.  Next item on the agenda….’ Adam furrowed his brow
as he tried to decipher his scrawls.  ‘Ah, yes.  The website.  How’s that
coming along Vicky?’

‘So far we’ve got a homepage, a copy of the price list we
decided on last week, a link to Peter’s story, links to all our blogs – even
Flic’s brand spanking new blog although she refuses to write anything – and a
“contact us” page.  I’m in the process of linking our Tête-a-net profiles.’

‘Make sure you specify that we DON’T DO CYBER SEX’ Flic
stropped.

‘And add the terms and conditions I’ve listed here.  It’ll
keep us right, and the clients will have some bedtime reading.’ Magnus handed
over a small booklet of paper to Vicky.

Vicky tapped a reminder into her phone.  ‘Just making a
note to add that.’

‘Whose phone is that?’ Magnus asked, hearing a vibration
and a male voice moaning, “Yeah, babe, oh lordy, mmmmm.”

‘Mine.  Probably some chancer trying to give me an
upgrade,’ Pamela dismissed.

‘Never heard it called that before!’ Vicky whooped.

Adam winked at Flic who then reached under the table and
pulled Pamela’s phone from her bag.  Flic looked at the screen.

‘It’s your dad.  Answer it,’ she demanded.

Pamela sighed and grabbed her phone from Flic before
stomping out of the room to answer the call.

‘That ringtone’s a bit much,’ Magnus grumped.

‘Don’t worry, my dad’s been instructed to phone around now
and tell her to go home.  The snow’s getting heavier anyway.  She should get
home before she gets snowed in here,’ Vicky advised.

‘Maybe she should take Sasha with her,’ Magnus suggested
hopefully.

‘No, Sasha stays with Vicky,’ Adam halted him before he
tried to shoo the little girl out of the meeting.  It was the one thing that
bothered him about his friend – his intolerance of children.  He pretended to
be the caring type, giving up his holiday every year to do voluntary work with
kids.  Adam suspected he only did this because the charity he volunteered for
paid all his travelling and accommodation expenses.  He’d seen the photos. 
Eight hours a day working with the kids and the rest of the time partying with
all the other, mostly female, volunteers who assumed he was a decent bloke just
because he was there.  Adam was onto him.

‘Dad’s demanding I go home!’ Pamela whined from the
doorway.  ‘Vicky, phone him back and tell him I can stay here with you.’

‘No.  Do as dad tells you,’ Vicky flatly refused.

‘This is iniquitous!  I’m seventeen years old!  I could
have a house of my own if I wanted,’ Pamela whined.

‘It’s what?’ Flic squinted.

‘She’s been reading the dictionary all morning.  She’s
trying to make herself sound grown up,’ Vicky explained.  ‘And if you want your
own place, move out.  Nobody’s stopping you.’

Flic nodded sympathetically towards Pamela.  ‘Being young’s
a bitch.’

‘Surprised you can remember that far back!’ Pamela snapped
at a wounded Flic, scooping up her coat, gloves and earmuffs from Flic’s couch
then storming out dramatically.

‘Now she’s gone,’ Adam continued without paying any
attention to the drama his younger sister had intended to bring to the
situation, ‘How is your plan to keep her nose out of the work you’re doing
going, Vicky?’

Vicky cleared her throat.  ‘I’ve lined up a fake assignment
for her.  Tomorrow morning I’ll email her a link to my friend Christos’s old
MaisonNet page, which he no longer uses.  She’ll be asked to get evidence of him
cheating on his girlfriend, which she’ll be unable to find.  I’ll tell her that
as soon as she gets the evidence she can become a fully fledged member of our
team.’

‘Christos?  Isn’t he the florist guy who’s obsessed with
his girlfriend and kids and talks about nothing else?’ Adam queried.

‘The very same.  He knows all about this, so he’ll be extra
careful not to say anything to her character – who will be named Kayla – in
case she misconstrues it.’

‘Wait!  Why does this guy know about our business?  How can
we be sure we can trust him?’ Flic panicked.

‘We can,’ Vicky stated simply.

‘I don’t know who this guy is!’ Flic griped.

‘Vicky’s known him for years, he’s alright,’ Adam attempted
to calm Flic.

‘I want to know exactly who this guy is!  If he knows anything
about HunE-trap Investigations and our work, I have a right to meet him,’ Flic
reasoned.

‘Ha!  You’ll be lucky.  You’ll have to tear him away from
his computer first,’ Adam snorted.

Flic turned towards Adam, who was grinning manically and
reigning in a laugh.

‘Is he a geek?’ Flic blinked.

‘He is NOT a geek!’ Vicky cried defensively.

‘You know how Vicky’s got her phone stuck to her hand
permanently?’ Adam sniggered.

Vicky instantly released her phone from her grip and it
thumped onto the table in front of her.

‘That’s because she’s constantly texting Christos.  Nobody
else ever gets a look in.  The two of them are best friends.  But because
they’re both too busy texting each other they never spend any real time
together,’ Adam whooped.

‘I did wonder who was so important that you’re constantly
checking that phone!’ Magnus smirked.

‘He’s just a friend.’  Vicky flushed, eager to set the
record straight. 

‘Is he good looking?’ Flic teased. 

Vicky’s face coloured some more.  She checked to see
Magnus’s reaction.  He looked amused rather than jealous.  Not what she had
hoped for.

‘Has he got that geek-chic look?  Like Rivers Cuomo?’ Flic
cajoled in a hushed tone.  ‘That’s hot,’ she winked at Vicky.

‘Right, that’s enough hilarity.  Back to business,’ Magnus said,
pretending to crack an invisible whip. 

Vicky was grateful the teasing had stopped.  And hopeful
that Magnus had stopped it because he was uncomfortable about her having
feelings for another man.  Not that she did.

‘What else is left to talk about?’ Flic’s smile
disappeared.

‘We need to discuss which clients we have, which potential
clients have been in touch, and the status of each case,’ Adam informed them.

‘Urgh!  That’s going to take for-e-ver!’ Vicky complained.

‘It has to be done,’ Magnus conceded.  ‘We all need to know
what’s happening with the clients in case one of you has a reason you can’t do
the work.’

‘This was a lot easier when it was just me and you, Vicky,
having a good gossip about what was happening,’ Flic grumped.

‘That’s because there were no clients,’ Adam sniggered. 
‘I’ll go and get your big red folder.’

‘What?  No, you sit there, I’ll get it,’ Flic instructed
harshly.

‘I can do it!’ Adam snapped. 

Flic waved her hand in a gesture which told him to go
ahead.  He could see in her eyes that she was concerned, and probably ready to
run to his rescue if he couldn’t cope but he was determined that he would.  He
used his free arm to pick up his crutch and make a clumsy attempt to manoeuvre
himself away from the table and out of the door.  After a few knocks against
furniture, he finally managed to get out of the room.

‘I’ll check on dinner,’ Flic announced, to no-one in
particular.

‘What are we having?’ Magnus asked.

‘Coq au vin,’ Flic replied as she left the room.

‘Do you think any of the wine made it in to the dinner?’ he
whispered to Vicky, who smothered a smile.

Adam came to an awkward halt in the hallway, where Flic
kept her big red folder with all the basic client information.  She had started
to keep it there next to the phone, the fax machine Magnus had insisted they
buy, and her printer.  Everything was in one place.  Adam grabbed the folder
with his left hand and attempted to get moving again as best he could,
considering his physical limitations.  He was struggling though.  He pushed his
hand through his hair in frustration.  Was there nothing he could do without
help now?  He’d been reminding himself constantly today that he would only be
this way for a few weeks, but already the time was dragging.  He would have to
shout for help.  Feeling defeated and thoroughly miserable, he wracked his
brain to think if there was some way he could do this without help. 

He hopped into the kitchen where an anxious Flic was
standing, pretending to be checking various pots of bubbling casserole and
boiling vegetables. 

‘Do you have a plastic bag so I can carry the folder more
easily while I’m struggling with these crutches?’ he asked.

‘Um, hang on.’  Flic breezed past him towards the hall and
into her bedroom.  She returned with a large hot pink plastic bag with knotted
laces attached. 

He should have known that she wouldn’t have a simple Tesco
or Asda bag.

‘Thanks,’ he called back as he shuffled out into the hall
again.  He placed the folder into the bag and hooked it over his arm.  Pleased
with himself, he picked up the crutch which had been resting against the wall. 
He gave the table a last look to check he hadn’t missed any papers.  That was
when he noticed something white underneath the phone.  He clumsily edged
towards the hidden document and pulled it out.  It was an unopened envelope
addressed to, “Mrs Felixia Goodbody.”  Adam was confused.  Felixia must be
Flic.  She kept insisting her name wasn’t Felicity.  That would make sense.

But Mrs?  His new girlfriend was married?  And he had thought
her last name was Rice.  He attempted to back up into the kitchen but found
himself crashing into Flic.

‘What have you got there?’ she asked quietly.

‘Found this under the phone.  Is this person you?’ he
checked.  He hoped it didn’t sound like an interrogation but more of a casual
question, but he was so confused and panicky that he was living with a married
woman and he suspected that might have been given away in his tone of voice.

‘Yeah,’ she nodded, appearing unwilling to volunteer any
more information.

‘Care to explain why it says Mrs?’ he urged.

Flic shrugged.  ‘I used to be married.  I’m now divorced. 
I still occasionally get junk mail and letters from my old solicitor in my old
name.  No big deal.’