Armed and Fabulous (Lexi Graves Mysteries) by Camilla Chafer Page B
Authors: Camilla Chafer
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your colleagues. "
I tried to imagine anyone in the department trading secrets, or being involved in criminal activity, but it was impossible. They were all so mundanely dull .
"And you don't have any idea who is involved?" I asked. “At all?”
Adam shook his head. "We have ideas , but now that Dean is dead, it's thrown us. It could have even be en him, in which case , we definitely need to catch his killers to get to the rest of the ring . Or maybe Dean uncovered something about someone in the department that got him killed. We don't know what information they are concealing or leaking, who's leaking it , or who’s buying it. We just can't get close. Everything points to major fraud , but we don't have enough evidence to narrow down any of our leads just yet."
"But you've got all that spyware on the computers."
"There haven't been any suspicious messages or documents emailed. Nothing is going through the office machines."
A thought occurred to me. "When you joined us and we had that team building day... The one where you confiscated all of our cell phones..."
"We bugged them," Adam admitted without any more prompting. "Recording and location transmitters."
"So you've been listening in on every call any of us made since then ?" I paled thinking about my argument with my occasional friend - with - benefits , boy-toy , Mike , three weeks ago when he wanted to come over after a couple of months of no contact . I just wasn't into him anymore, even though it had been fun and he had more than just scratched the itch that needed, um, scratching. Mike became more than a little rud e when I suggested we stop... scratching. How mortifying. Still, at least , I had come out of it with my dignity intact. I hoped.
"Yes, and nothing there either. No coded messages or anything suspicious."
"I hate to ask you the obvious, but a re you sure the leak is from our department?"
"Absolutely sure."
"Where's the memory stick?" asked Solomon suddenly. The TV guide landed on the coffee table with a resounding slap.
"Sorry, got somewhere to be, have we?" I retorted smartly , but he just stared back. We glared at each other, and I was sure I saw the faint est shadow of a smile. It seemed Big B ad had a sense of humor.
His eyes ran over me. "Yes, actually."
"Oh, right." Crap. He probably had to go save the world , or single - handedly take down the fraudsters while Adam babysat me . His tone was clear: I was holding him up. "I'll get it, " I said.
The memory stick was exactly where I left it in the top drawer of my dresser in my bedroom , so I grabbed it and returned to the living room less than a minute later . Adam and Solomon were talking in hushed tones , but they stopped when I entered. I dropped the memory stick into Adam's open palm.
"Has this got everything you worked on at Green Hand?" he asked. I nodded and he passed it to Solomon. "Thanks, Lexi. We'll get the team working on this. The reason for Dean's death is in there somewhere."
Downstairs , I heard the door open and slam shut seconds after Adam's phone beeped. "Your friend is home," he said, after checking the screen.
"Was that the men outside?"
"Yes."
“Are they staying?”
“No. They’ll do spot checks.”
"I'm going to go," said Solomon, pulling my attention to him again as he stood and stretched. I expected him to crack his knuckles, but thankfully , he didn't. Instead , he stuck the memory stick in hi s jeans pocket and strode out of the apartment without a backwards glance.
"Quite the charmer, isn't he?" I said, when the door shut and I was sure he couldn't hear me.
"Solomon's okay, just not the conversational sort."
“Is Solomon his first name or last?”
“Last, I think. Why?”
I shrugged. " No reason. I need to get ready. Can you stay for a while ? O r do you have to go?" I suddenly felt nervous at the idea of being in the apartment on my own . K nowing that Martin Dean's murderers were out there was bad enough, but Adam's team being concerned
I tried to imagine anyone in the department trading secrets, or being involved in criminal activity, but it was impossible. They were all so mundanely dull .
"And you don't have any idea who is involved?" I asked. “At all?”
Adam shook his head. "We have ideas , but now that Dean is dead, it's thrown us. It could have even be en him, in which case , we definitely need to catch his killers to get to the rest of the ring . Or maybe Dean uncovered something about someone in the department that got him killed. We don't know what information they are concealing or leaking, who's leaking it , or who’s buying it. We just can't get close. Everything points to major fraud , but we don't have enough evidence to narrow down any of our leads just yet."
"But you've got all that spyware on the computers."
"There haven't been any suspicious messages or documents emailed. Nothing is going through the office machines."
A thought occurred to me. "When you joined us and we had that team building day... The one where you confiscated all of our cell phones..."
"We bugged them," Adam admitted without any more prompting. "Recording and location transmitters."
"So you've been listening in on every call any of us made since then ?" I paled thinking about my argument with my occasional friend - with - benefits , boy-toy , Mike , three weeks ago when he wanted to come over after a couple of months of no contact . I just wasn't into him anymore, even though it had been fun and he had more than just scratched the itch that needed, um, scratching. Mike became more than a little rud e when I suggested we stop... scratching. How mortifying. Still, at least , I had come out of it with my dignity intact. I hoped.
"Yes, and nothing there either. No coded messages or anything suspicious."
"I hate to ask you the obvious, but a re you sure the leak is from our department?"
"Absolutely sure."
"Where's the memory stick?" asked Solomon suddenly. The TV guide landed on the coffee table with a resounding slap.
"Sorry, got somewhere to be, have we?" I retorted smartly , but he just stared back. We glared at each other, and I was sure I saw the faint est shadow of a smile. It seemed Big B ad had a sense of humor.
His eyes ran over me. "Yes, actually."
"Oh, right." Crap. He probably had to go save the world , or single - handedly take down the fraudsters while Adam babysat me . His tone was clear: I was holding him up. "I'll get it, " I said.
The memory stick was exactly where I left it in the top drawer of my dresser in my bedroom , so I grabbed it and returned to the living room less than a minute later . Adam and Solomon were talking in hushed tones , but they stopped when I entered. I dropped the memory stick into Adam's open palm.
"Has this got everything you worked on at Green Hand?" he asked. I nodded and he passed it to Solomon. "Thanks, Lexi. We'll get the team working on this. The reason for Dean's death is in there somewhere."
Downstairs , I heard the door open and slam shut seconds after Adam's phone beeped. "Your friend is home," he said, after checking the screen.
"Was that the men outside?"
"Yes."
“Are they staying?”
“No. They’ll do spot checks.”
"I'm going to go," said Solomon, pulling my attention to him again as he stood and stretched. I expected him to crack his knuckles, but thankfully , he didn't. Instead , he stuck the memory stick in hi s jeans pocket and strode out of the apartment without a backwards glance.
"Quite the charmer, isn't he?" I said, when the door shut and I was sure he couldn't hear me.
"Solomon's okay, just not the conversational sort."
“Is Solomon his first name or last?”
“Last, I think. Why?”
I shrugged. " No reason. I need to get ready. Can you stay for a while ? O r do you have to go?" I suddenly felt nervous at the idea of being in the apartment on my own . K nowing that Martin Dean's murderers were out there was bad enough, but Adam's team being concerned
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