Who Glares Wins (Lexi Graves Mysteries) (36 page)

A week out of the office and I was already out of the loop. I wondered for a paranoid few seconds why
Lucas
hadn't said anything
,
despite talking
with me
a couple
of
times. Perhaps
,
he didn't think it was interesting, or didn't know. Maybe he just didn't want to share with me, the girl. "I didn't know. Congratulations."

Solomon nodded. "It's just the beginning," he said. "There's still a lot of work to do. You and
Lucas
are going to have to take on more of the smaller cases
,
while Fletcher works the contracts with me. It might mean working longer hours,
or
working a couple of cases simultaneously.
Happy with that?
"

"I can do it. Will you make
Lucas
wear a dress?"

Solomon laughed, his face lighting up in a way I rarely saw. This was private Solomon; the man
,
I suspected
,
few saw.
The Solomon who had light creases around his eyes, who dipped his head back when he laughed, who was sprawled in a relaxed way, one arm thrown over the back of the sofa, the other hand cradling his
coffee
cup.
"I never want to see
Lucas
' legs."

"I work in such a sexist office." I sighed, slightly melodramatically.

"If anyone else looks at your legs, let me know."

"Why? Wh
at are you doing to do about it?
"

"Take them out back and shoot them."

"I think Fl
aherty
stole my stapler. What are you going to do about that?"

Solomon smiled.

"It was a joke. Please don't hurt him."

"I'll need you to work some cases with me, too."

I hated to say it, but I did anyway. "Isn't Delgado better? Or Flaherty?"

"Delgado and Flaherty can handle cases alone. Sometimes it helps to have a woman around. And..." Solomon leaned forward. "
Even though you’re working this one alone, i
t's part of your training to work cases with senior staff."

"I'm happy to work under you." As soon as I said it, I clamped my mouth shut and
,
I'm fairly certain
,
blushed bright red. Solomon smiled in such an infuriatingly sexy way that I wished I could just blink and vanish. What I meant to say was I was looking forward to learning more from him. The idea of being literally under him was something I tried never to focus on. Too hard. I winced. Oh, wrong word choice.

"I should go," I said, rising to my feet. "I have work tomorrow and you're tired."

Solomon didn't look tired now. Solomon looked like a predator
,
like he'd caught sight of what he wanted and was
determining
how to reel it in. I decided I was reading too much into it.
Lemon pie
, chanted my mind,
think about lemon meringue pie.

"Call me tomorrow. I want to know where we stand on the hotel."

"I have leads.”

"And you know what to do with them?"

"Absolutely," I assured him, sounding more certain on the outside than I
was
in
side
.

"Let me know your next steps. I want the full report tomorrow. Everyone you've spoken to. Everything you've spoken about, and an update on the latest
crises
. Email everything and then we'll talk
,
if you don't have time to come by the office.
Are you sure your cover isn’t blown?
"

“I’m sure. The graffiti didn’t indicate that
;
plus
,
nothing has happened since.”

“Anything else happens, call me right away. No one else. Me. Understand?”

“Yep.”

Solomon picked up my jacket as he walked me to the door and held it up so I had to spin around and slide my arms in. He smoothed the
fabric over my
shoulders, his hands running down my cotton-clad arms and whispered, very softly, in my ear. "You don't
have
to go."

I held still, his hands still resting on my arms. "Yes, I do," I said, just as softly.

"The cop?"

I wasn't sure where things stood with the cop
,
but he
had
extended an olive branch in the shape of pie.
I nodded.

I felt Solomon step closer and he dipped his head, the warmth of him burning against me. I closed
my eyes as his lips touched the curve of my neck
,
then my
cheek. His palms ran down my arms, over the backs of my hands
,
and my fingers curled around his
. T
hen he was stepping around me, drawing me to him and his lips were on mine, gently, not pushy, just resting
. M
oving slowly
,
he caught
my lower lip
, like he wasn't sure how I would react,
and was
giving me time to step away.
Giving me time to make a decision.

In those brief seconds, t
houghts flashed through my mind
: t
he first time Solomon kissed me
,
when he offered me the job and kissed me, and how each kiss made me feel like I was feather
-
light and brilliant.

But there was
Maddox
and I could stop myself. I had a choice, and even though part of me wanted Solomon to kiss me forever, another part of me knew it was wrong
. Especially
when I had a man who offered me hot lemon meringue pie without question, even if he was worried about the choices I
was
ma
king
.

I
slid my hands from his,
placed
them
on
his
chest and stepped back, breaking the
brief whisper of the
kiss.

H
is question
came
like a sigh.
"The cop?"

I nodded. And there was the small
issue
that no matte
r what else I thought of him, Solomon
was my boss and I wanted to work for him, and do it legitimately and with my colleagues
’
respect.
“And my job,” I whispered. “I like my job.”
I didn’t have to add what it meant to me, about gaining the respect of my colleagues, about being good at something for once; it was all there, loaded in my voice.

"I'll respect that," he said. "I won't make a move
again
…
u
nless you ask me to.
Not even when I want to.
"

I nodded, just once, not trusting myself to speak
,
and let myself out.
During the entire
walk to my car
,
I knew Solomon's eyes were on me
;
and the feeling didn't lift until I'd taken the corner and pointed towards home.

H
alf
way
home
,
I pulled over and called Maddox.

The words came out in a rush.
"
I’m sorry. I should have told you about the job
,
but I couldn’t.
I didn’t mean to make it look like I was hiding things from you.
”

“I know. I understand. I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you.
I’m sorry, too, though I think I said it better when I offered pie.
”

“
How abou
t that lemon meringue?" I asked, hopefully.

The smile in his voice filtered through the phone line.
"How about it?"

"I'll be home in twenty."

"I'll be there."

"You bake fast."

"I do other things very slow."

Wow.

Chapter Fifteen

The staff of The Montgomery had removed any evidence of the convention by the time I
made it into work on the Satur
day
,
per my non-acceptable hours arrangement
.
I was
yawning like I hadn't slept in days. Maddox stayed over and I
seriously
thought long and hard about ditching work in favor of a day in bed. I was feeling more and more like I needed a
major
sleep
fest
.

Frankly, I was at work
to get some
rest
,
and I was fairly certain the double homicide
call that
Maddox go
t at five a.m.
had
nothing to do with the smile plastered all over his face when he kissed me goodbye.

"Don't do anything dangerous," he said
as he pulled one shoe on
. He was
sitting
on the side of my bed
.
His hair had grown quickly and was starting to move in different directions again
.
I
t was
all
I could do not to run my hands through it and drag him back for a quickie.
"E
ven better, take a day off.
Avoid the hotel. Go visit your family or go out with Lily."

But
as appealing as that sounded,
I had a job to do and a missing woman to find.
“No can do, sorry
,
”
I murmured, leaning in to kiss the nape of his neck.

“Fine. You’re still my favorite PI.” He kissed me one more time, and left, humming a tune under his breath as his cell phone started to trill.

Working in the office with the pissy message still spray
-
painted on the wall wasn't much fun, so I took my time wandering around the hotel, talking to the staff on the weekend shift, anything to keep me
away
from the closet of doom.

Just as I passed the kitchen door, I heard voices, which wasn't unusual
.
I would have walked
right on
past if I hadn't heard an angry voice say, "I know who's sabotaging the hotel and it's about time someone said something."

Oh, sweet, heavenly music
!
That was exactly what I wanted to hear. I skidded to a stop,
retreated
two steps and pressed my back against the wall, leaning towards the door.

"Who?"
asked a female voice.

Who, indeed? I leaned in.

"You won't believe me."
Footsteps p
acing. "Hell, no one will believe me."

"Why not?"

"
’
C
au
s
e
people like that don't do stuff like this!"

Stuff like what? I inched sideways and peeped around the door
,
just as a person
barreled
out
. T
he swing
ing
door flash
ed
forwards and smack
ed right
into me. I stumbled backwards and landed on my butt,
my
legs splayed and what sounded horribly like a heel cracking. I winced,
felt
a moment of relief
I was
wearing a pantsuit, and looked up at the hand held out to me.

"Sorry. Le
xi.
Didn't see you there,
"
said
Amanda, who I now realized
,
was the female voice in the conversation I’d overheard
.
I took h
er
hand and
s
he pulled me to my feet.

Greg Conlan, the headwaiter
of whom
Sylvia had been suspicious,
banged
out of the door
. He
took one look at me, shook his head
at his friend in warning,
and shot off.

I dusted myself down, insist
ing
to Amanda
I was fine, and
after refusing the offer of an icepack,
hobbled after Greg
, the heel of my shoe feeling more and more unsteady the faster I went.

B
y the time I caught up with Greg
,
I was out of breath.

"I need to talk to you," I said. "About what you said back there."

Greg
shrugged, his shoulders tight as he jutted his chin up. "What about it?"

"You really know who i
s behind the sabotage
?"

He looked at me, breathing hard through his nose, then looked quickly to the left
and
right
before giving
me a short, sharp nod.

"You need to tell someone. This is serious."

"You think I don't know that! I've been working here for two years
,
and in the past six months
,
I've missed more than a dozen shifts
!
A
nd now I'm spending weekends I want to spend with my kid
,
working doubles because someone told housekeeping they weren't needed this weekend
,
and there’s no one to clean the rooms
,
or do the turn
-
down service
."

"I hear you," I said, slipping in a lie. "I wanted to take my niece to the park this afternoon
,
but instead
,
I'm here. Why don't you let me help you? If you tell me who it is, I can tell
Mr.
Killjoy."

"He'd never believe me."

"It won't come back on you, I promise."

"I don't know, it's..."

"Hard, I understand. No one wants to feel like they're ratting on their colleagues
,
but the sooner this place gets back to normal, the better for all of us." I wobbled my lower lip and laid it on thick. "I
need
this job."

"Yeah, me too. I guess I should tell you. Maybe you can get
Mr.
Killjoy to listen.
B
ut not here, okay
?
I'm late and I've got a list as long of my arm of rooms that need to be serviced. Can
you meet me upstairs later
?
We’re taking turns
covering for the housekeeping no
-
shows
;
and I’m already five minutes late for my shift because I did the
breakfast and early lunch
shift
in the main restaurant
too.
I'll tell you everything then."

"Okay," I agreed, because I didn't want to scare him off by insisting, especially when his posture showed how he wrestled with his dilemma. I could understand that. I wouldn't want to be in his position either. I pulled out my notepad and scribbled my extension number on it. "Just give me a call and let me know where you are
;
and I'll come find you."

He took the paper, crumpling it into his pocket and hurried off without a backwards glance. I watched him until he turned the corner towards the service elevators
,
then retreated.

I hobbled through to the front desk and asked if they had anything to fix my shoe.

Peter waved to his colleague to take over the desk and ushered me into the back room. I sat on one of the hard chairs and eased off my shoe. Peter took one look at the heel and sucked the air through his teeth.

"Is there anything you can do?"

"I hate to break it to you
,
but I think it's dead."

"No!" My voice came out a pitch higher than intended, making me sound like a wounded animal
as I stared at the heel Peter
prodded
gingerly with his forefinger
.

"I'm afraid it's true. Your heel sustained a hairline fracture."

My lip wobbled for real this time. "But I love these shoes."

Peter laid a sympathetic hand on my knee. "Nothing can be done. You've got to let it go. You had good times together, right?"

"Yes." We did. These heels had been on dates, to more offices than I could count
,
and more than a few bars. We'd strolled, and danced, and on one memorable occas
ion, escaped a gropey paralegal at a fast clip.

"Then you have to let them go."

"Maybe I could take them to a cobbler?"

"Let them go, honey,
"
Peter sighed.

"But they were perfect."

Peter laid it straight. "And now they're not."

I touched a finger to the crack around the top of the heel where it met the shoe and winced.
Goodbye, shoes
, I said silently,
I'll miss you.

"Do you have any spares with you?"

"Shoot. No." I had sneakers in my car, but they weren't work
-
suitable.

"Go home and get another pair. I'll tell Killjoy you had a family emergency."

"Thank you."

I hobbled out of the concierge's little room and made my way, half walking, half limping, through the employee areas and out into the rear lot. By the time I got to my car
,
I was mad at me, mad at my shoes, mad that I'd worked s
ix
days straight, and mad at everything. Even my completion percentage couldn't make me
focus
on the positive side. I wrenched the heels off, toss
ing
them on the passenger seat and pulled on my sneakers, gunning it home so I could change
shoes
.

One pair of smart
,
black heels
later—
slightly too high for the office, but so damn gorgeous
,
they hurt
—I
was b
ack at the hotel and it was mid-
afternoon. I sighed. It was only fair that I put in an extra couple of hours
’
work
,
seeing as I'd sloped off for no good rea
son other than a shoe emergency
.

I went straight to my office and
while I waited for Greg’s call, I
worked on my report for Solomon until it was up
-
to
-
date
;
then I
emailed it from my
personal email address
to his
.

Just as I got back to the office, my desk phone started to ring, the colored lights on the panel blinking, and I snatched it up.

"
Mr.
Killjoy's office."

"Is that Lexi?"

"Yes, it is. How can I help you?"

"It's Greg
.
Greg Conlan.
Uh, from earlier. I tried calling you
before,
but no one answered."

"Right, sorry. I had to go out. Where are you?"

"Third
floor. Can you come up? I'm still servicing the rooms for tomorrow's check in."

"Sure. Which room?"

"I'm in three-two now. Three
-eight is next."

"I'll be right there."

"Thanks. I'll be glad to get this off my chest. I've got something to show you as well."

Greg
hung up
. I grabbed my purse, shuffled my paperwork into a neat pile
and locked the door.

Edward poked his head out, just as I
was
lock
ing
my door. "Lexi, can you step inside my office for a moment?"

"I've got somewhere to be," I said, looking around me as Louisa stepped out of
her office
. She
nodded at us and walked in the opposite direction
, an empty coffee mug in her hand
.

"It'll just take a moment."

I took one last look at the exit and followed Killjoy to his office. "I've been thinking," he said. "About Marissa. I think I know where she might
have
go
ne
."

"Go on."

"One of her friends
’
parents had a house somewhere. Beth, I think her name is. Marissa's been there a few times. Says it's the most peaceful place on earth."