Smith Investigation Series Box Set 1 (5 page)

BOOK 2:
TOP OF THE GAME

Chapter 1

“Ah, a new day at the office,” I thought, settling into my chair. My sigh of contentment filled the silence.

My assigned desk occupied the corner opposite the door. I smiled, grateful that Smith had remembered that I liked natural light when I worked. One of the small windows in Operations was on my right, flooding my desk with sunlight.

I pulled the drawers open one by one, enjoying the feeling of a new beginning. My face split into a wide grin imagining the possibilities these empty drawers offered. How many memories I could stash in there, each and every one to remind me of great moments that were to come.

I looked up and saw Spike lurking around. By her expression, I could tell she was dying to get something off her chest. She started fiddling with the file in her hands when she caught my gaze, but I knew she wasn’t actually reading it.

“Spill it,” I encouraged her, leaning on my elbows.

“Who? Me?”

She pointed a thumb to herself, her face a picture of innocence. I nodded and motioned her closer.

“What’s bothering you, Spike?”

She pulled up a chair beside my desk and sat. Judging by the way she gnawed at her bottom lip, I suspected something personal was troubling her. I refrained from making any comment, giving her the space she needed to talk.

“Um, well, I don’t know what to do about this. I mean, you
are
the best in the field, and he
is
as stubborn as a mule,” she started, sounding more like she was talking to herself.

I leaned back, intrigued.

“I guess I could tell you. It’s only a suggestion, after all,” she reasoned. “Mainly because he’s a bit of an ass sometimes and doesn’t want to ask for help, and I just want to smack him over the head for that. And, because if we don’t solve the case, we don't get paid.” She seemed to be satisfied with her explanation. I knew it hadn’t been for my benefit.

“Go on,” I encouraged.

“Get this. This guy just vanished! Like, off-the-face-of-the-Earth vanished!”

I cocked my head to ask for a proper introduction of the case, but didn’t have the time to speak. It was like my small encouragement was all Spike needed to open the dam on her secret.

“A woman comes to us and wants an investigation into her husband’s disappearance, so Smith gives the case to Dylan. He worked some Missing Persons cases before he came here.”

“He did?” I asked.

“The woman is so heartbroken,” Spike continued ignoring my question. “She can't even talk about the whole thing. I saw her with my own eyes. She was crying her heart out! I’m telling you.”

I cringed inside. Emotional people were the hardest to deal with, and I had trouble with them on a personal level. My investigative mind, on the other hand, rejoiced because emotional people were the easiest to read. They wore no mask. They were open books for someone like me.

“That’s it!” I exclaimed, almost jumping to my feet.

“What? There’s no way you figured it out already.” Spiked eyed me suspiciously.

I settled back into my chair, embarrassed about my outburst. I chose not to say anything, purposefully looking out the window, since my thoughts had nothing to do with the case she was presenting. I was still as confused as ever, and more to do with her and my inability to read her. Every small bite of information I got from this girl was reason to celebrate. I hoped my hunch could lead me somewhere with her.

I had just gotten the strongest idea that, maybe, I couldn’t get past her facade because she was showing no emotion, unconsciously overcompensating for that empty affect with exaggerated facial expressions. That had to be it. I could've given an arm and a leg to know more about what or who made her like that.

I gestured for her to go on.

She blinked her confusion away, the issue pressing her being far more important than my behavior. I silently agreed with ignoring the whole incident.

“OK. So, this man leaves home for work and never comes back from his lunch break. Like I said, completely disappears. What do you think?”

I squinted, still unsure of what she was asking of me. “I think that Dylan is in charge of the case, and it should be his call whether to ask for my help or not,” I commented, choosing my words carefully.

“I know. But he won’t. He’s stubborn like that and has been sitting on this case for weeks. That’s longer than any other case. We need the money. Could you… you know, take a look?”

“And keep you out if it?” I continued for her.

She nodded, grateful that I seemed to understand.

“I’ll see what I can do. Tell Smith he could’ve just come to me with this,” I gave in, sighing.

“Smith didn't put me up to this.” She frowned, genuinely confused, and I wanted to hide under the desk for the second time that day.

“Are you sure?” I faked being unconvinced.

“Yes. I was just concerned for the firm. You know I do the accounting too, and I also know Dylan.
And,
you’re a consultant anyway so… Can you consult?”

“OK, OK. But I won’t promise anything. It’s Dylan's call.”

She grinned. Standing, she gently placed the file on my desk, a mischievous smile on her lips. Suddenly, she bent and kissed me, then ran to her desk, giggling.

I was left stunned, unsure of what had just happened. Was I losing my tough armor? Or did she generally have a death wish? Either way, I knew I liked her, and I suspected she knew that too. “And she is taking advantage of my feelings,” I concluded to myself, shaking my head.

I glanced at the thin file Spike had left on my desk and dared to open it. I didn’t have a case of my own yet. Smith kept me around to consult on multiple cases for now, so I had plenty of time for a pet project.

“Let’s see what we have here.”

The client, Sarah Monroe, had been married to the victim for almost four years. They had married in Miami, where she resided at the time, until she moved to Vermont to live with her husband, Michael Monroe.

I found it odd that they had married while Michael was on vacation. In the span of two weeks they had met, fallen in love, or not, and married. It seemed too short of a time for that kind of commitment.

I instinctively took out my new shiny notebook out, jotted down my question, then moved on.

Sarah had been a stay-at-home housewife the entire marriage. Michael was a partner at a corporate law firm, and his annual income was in the higher half of the six-figure spectrum.

No criminal record for either of the Monroe’s, a few parking tickets, and no history of home disturbances or neighbors calling the cops. I was looking for signs of domestic abuse, but found none.

They seemed like the perfect couple, love at first sight. I wondered what lay hidden beneath the surface.

In her statement to the police, Sarah Monroe had said that she last saw her husband on the morning of his disappearance, just before he went to work. His employers, when questioned, confirmed that he had arrived to work as normal. His card had been swiped in the system at precisely 8:45 AM, then again, at 13:02, when they assumed he left for his lunch break.

His credit card statement didn’t show him buying lunch like he seemed to have done every day. My first thought was that he must’ve disappeared right after he left the offices of his law firm.

I noted my conclusion and stood up. I had to look for Dylan, talk him into letting me get involved with his case.

It would have been simpler to just ask Smith to assign me the case for consultation, but I had a feeling Dylan wouldn't be pleased with that. He seemed the type to like a direct approach rather than someone going over his head, and I intended to respect that.

I asked Robert to tell me where Dylan was.

“He hasn’t come in this morning. I think he’s with DeMarco, talking to a new client. Do you want me to give him a call?”

“No, thanks.”

Maybe pulling him out of another job wasn’t the best way to start the discussion. He couldn’t be long, so I decided to go for a jog while I waited.

“Give me a call when he gets here, would you? I’ll be out.”

Robert nodded, staring at his monitors.

I debated whether to use the gym facilities in the building or go outside. The idea of seeing the city and catching up on what had changed lately made up my mind. I went into the lockers to change into my running gear and left for what I hoped would be a refreshing jog.

Chapter 2

“
You were looking for me?” Dylan asked me the second I walked into Operations.

I had figured I would have a moment to breathe before talking to him, but it seemed like that wouldn’t be the case.

Thinking that I had gotten inexcusably out of shape lately, I walked over to my desk and sat, inviting Dylan to do the same.

He pushed up the chair so it sat directly opposite of me, a gesture that told me he was ready for a confrontation. I looked him up and down, getting a strong vibe of apprehension from him. He knew.

“
What’s up?” he asked.

“
I was wondering if I could take a look at one of your cases. Maybe offer my assistance?” I decided to dive in. No use beating around the bush.

He raised his eyebrows. “Did you now?”

There was no need for me to reply. He didn't look like he wanted to know how I had reached my conclusion.

“
And what case might that be?”

“
The Monroe Missing Persons.”

“
Uhuh. Did Smith put you up to this?”

I shook my head. “No. I was thinking that since I have no open case to occupy myself with, it would be a shame to get paid just for sitting around. Besides, I’m starting to get bored.”

He seemed to find my explanation plausible enough. “Alright. But I don't believe for a second that you haven’t already looked at the file.”

I smiled coyly, relieved that he wasn’t more aggressive.

“
So, what do you think?”

He seemed fine with the idea of me getting involved, but something told me it was all just an act. His pride was hurt because the case I happened to be interested in was the same one he had difficulty with. I concluded that if I wanted to ever be friends with him, he needed to be the one to find the solution. I would merely help with pointing him towards it.

“
I don’t know,” I began. “It’s all straightforward until he disappears. Maybe I could talk to Mrs. Monroe, learn some things for myself?”

He frowned. “Why would you need to talk to her? She has nothing to do with anything,
and
I don’t suppose she feels too well about us poking her for answers. I’ve already spoken to her. It’s all in the file.”

“
Uh huh,” I mumbled to myself, making a mental note not to trust his judgement when it came to damsels in distress. “I suspect we don’t have all the answers, Dylan. I don't know. It’s always safe to ask more questions than just assume and maybe she might remember something else.” The fact that I believed him to be the reason we didn’t have all the answers remained unsaid.

“
I don't think so. I talked to her and she didn't seem to hold anything back. She cried the whole time and barely spoke. I know how to interview a client, and she told me everything she knows. Trust me.”

I raised my eyebrows, surprised at the strength of his conviction. Mrs Monroe was nothing more than a client, after all, and he had known her for less than a month. So what was it that made his loyalties lay against the team?

More than his seemingly uncharacteristic lack of professionalism, I was concerned with the fact that he appeared not to realize he was behaving strangely.

I had to take the reins here.

“
I disagree,” I said. “I don’t doubt you’re skilled in what you’re doing, but I’ve been doing this for longer then you have, and it would be a mistake to not use the knowledge I have accumulated. In the worst case, you get to tell me you told me so.”

He shot me an angry look, and I knew something rotten was about to come out of his mouth.

“
You mean the skills you’ve been floundering about in that insipid book of yours?
Detective Clear
was it? With the cold reading and everything. Oh, I’m sure you’ve taken inspiration from your
extensive
knowledge alright. Be my guest. Go see her. I’ll make sure to clean up the mess you're about to make.”

With that, he stood and walked away.

His words made me red in the face. I knew that my authorial endeavours would come back and bite me in the ass some day, but he would have been the last person I had expected to throw it in my face like that.

The conversation made me feel surprisingly angrier than I had expected. Maybe some fresh air would do me some good. I hurried out, on the way requesting Robert for Sarah’s address.

In reception, I almost bumped into Smith.

“
Oh, hello there,” he greeted me.

“
This team needs some serious sorting out,” I spat in lieu of a greeting and left.

By the time I got into my car, Robert had sent me the address. I typed it into my GPS and drove off.

The Monroe’s lived in a large mansion with a gorgeous surrounding view.

Admiring the manicured landscape, I stopped my car at the ornate gate and rang the bell.

“
Yes?” a woman with a warm Mexican accent answered.

“Odd choice to look for employment so far from home,” I thought.

“
I’m Robin Walsh from Smith Investigations. I would like a word with Mrs. Monroe, please. It’s about her husband's case.”

“
Just a sec.”

The gates opened shortly and I pulled up in front of the house. The Hispanic woman, wearing a clean maid's uniform in pastel colors, greeted me with a welcoming smile and pointed me towards the large living room Sarah Monroe was expecting me in.

“
Mrs. Monroe? I’m Robin Walsh. Nice to meet you.”

“
Where’s Dylan? I mean, Mr. Greene,” she stuttered.

Her alarmed look made me suspicious, and I couldn’t help but take into consideration the possibility she was taking advantage of Dylan’s weakness.

“
He’s still working the case, Ma’am, following another lead,” I lied and got confirmation of my suspicions instantly. Her eyes darted from me to the window, to her hands and everywhere else around the room. Her attempt at concealing her concern didn’t get past me, but I decided to play the ignorance card. “I have been hired to consult on the case. It proves to be more difficult than was initially expected.”

She seemed to relax a bit, yet another sign she didn’t really want us to find her husband. I wondered why.

“
May I?” I gestured towards a chair. She nodded and instantly began wringing her hands, her face the picture of pain and loss. I struggled to hide a smile at the quick change. She was good, but the transition was too abrupt to be genuine.

“
What would you like to know?” she asked, a crystalline tear rolling down her pretty cheek.

“
I’m sorry to have to ask you this, but I would like to hear for myself an account of the week just before you husband disappeared. Can you do that?”

I decided to play the fool, give her the illusion of control.

She glanced at me from under her perfectly styled bangs, skeptically. I had to give it to her. She was better than I thought; from that moment on, it was a play pretend game for both of us, all the while carefully scrutinizing each other for any sign of our true intentions. If one of us broke character, the game was over and the other would win. I nodded, expressing as much sympathy as I could, given the circumstances.

“
Why do you need to know about a whole week?” she stalled.

“
It’s a better way to go about things, Ma’am. Something may have happened before his actual disappearance that could have lead up to what happened. I’m sorry, again, for putting you through this, but we have to take into consideration every detail.”

I gave her a second to come up with something, but not enough for her to weave a complete lie. I wanted to keep her off balance.

“
So, can you start with the Monday prior to your husband’s disappearance, Mrs. Monroe?”

“
Sure. Um, we… He was at work all day. He works the same hours every day. Well, he had some extra hours that week. He worked a lot, you see? He was a hard working man, my Michael.”

I nodded, puzzled by the way she talked about him. I chose not to jot it down in front of her, so I wouldn’t give her cause for concern.

“
Our days are pretty much the same. He goes to work, comes home. We have dinner and go to bed. Sometimes we eat out. That weekend, we had been on a little vacation in Canada.”

She was a good actress, faking the most heartwarming smile remembering that weekend, but I could see the smile didn’t extend to her eyes.

I kept nodding from time to time, reassuring her of my support and understanding.

“
The day he disappeared, he went to work as usual. I had been a bit tired because we had a flat tire on the way back from Canada, and we had arrived later than planned the night before. But I did see him to the door. He kissed me and I remember I told him I loved him before he left. He acted very warm that day, like he didn’t want to break out of the kiss.”

He voice broke at the perfect moment, but her eyes surveilled my reaction carefully. I feigned compassion as well as I could.

“
You didn't mention this in your police report. Did you suspect anything? Was that out of character for him?”

I decided it was time to take my notebook out and take advantage of the memory to jot down my own doubts.

Why change statement? Insisting on lovey-dovey? Past tense.

“
Oh, yeah. Thinking back, there was something different about him that morning. Who knows what he might’ve done? Oh god…”

Her voice broke again, and I was surprised to see real tears. I had to admit, she was good.

I also noted her attempt to place some sort of responsibility on him, which made me think I could push things a little.

“
I understand this is difficult for you. Let’s change the subject, Mrs. Monroe.” I noticed her shoulders stiffen and her chest push forward, a sign of pride, at the mention of her complete title. “You said he had worked more hours that week? There’s no record of that with his employer.”

Her eyes widened, not in surprise, but fear. I frowned and wrote ‘over sharing information - mistake?’ while she attempted to explain away a fact that a wife wouldn't normally have to explain.

“
Well, yes, but he kind of worked off the books. Overtime, that is. He… My sweet Michael, he didn’t want to be paid for overtime. I mean, sometimes, his partner did pay him, but he mostly didn't want to. He thought it was unfair for the other employees.”

I squinted at my notebook, acting like I was busy scribbling down details when, in reality I was underlining the last note. Why did she need to clarify everything? She seemed to have an answer to everything, which was unsettling.

“
Thank you, Mrs. Monroe. I know how difficult this must’ve been for you.”

I stood abruptly, and got an idea.

She seemed taken by surprise and dropped the act for a second. The way she looked up at me, her face slightly puffed from crying, she looked disarmingly beautiful. No wonder Dylan, whom I pegged to be a lady’s man, had fallen for her performance.

“
Uh, sure. I… anything to help the investigation.”

I shook her hand and left.

I had so many questions, but I decided to leave them for later. Driving off, I called Robert and asked him to pull the life insurance policy Michael Monroe had. I was sure I was onto something and couldn't wait to get back to the office.