Studying Scarlett the Grey

by Kelle Z Riley

  The hairs on his neck rose. Moving the camera in place to keep watch on the lobby doors, he opened a second screen and downloaded video from the drone. Scanning back to the point where Bree boarded the shuttle, Matthew focused his attention on the area around the hotel bus. Two car lengths behind it, he spotted the sedan with mud-obscured plates.

  Bree had been followed.

  Chapter 2

  Stupid bus.

  Bree pasted a smile on her face and headed to the front desk. “Excuse me, is there a shuttle between this location and your Burlingame hotel location?” she asked, referring to her original hotel.

  “Sorry, miss. Did you just arrive on the airport shuttle?”

  Bree nodded.

  “It happens more than you might think. Our shuttle signs can get confusing. You’re at the Airport North location. I recommend using a cab or a ride share service. It's faster than taking the next shuttle back to the airport. Shall I order a cab for you?”

  “Perfect. Thank you.” Bree ducked into a ladies’ room off the lobby, thankful the hotel provided individual, gender-free restrooms versus multi-stall units.

  She stripped off the hat and wig and breathed a sigh of relief as she ran her fingers through her damp hair, grateful for the warmer air of the suburbs that allowed her to remove layers of bulky disguise.

  She switched configurations of her briefcase, converting it into a backpack with a bright, flowered exterior. The collapsible nylon carry-on fit inside easily. After stuffing the wig, hat, and layers of sweatshirts in beside the nylon bag, she considered her trench coat. It had served its purpose in letting her pass for Sasha. No doubt Matthew had gotten a good laugh out of it too.

  Stop playing dress up. You look ridiculous.

  Sasha’s parting words played in Bree’s memory—an unwelcome earworm no doubt planted to undermine her confidence. Bree crushed the trench coat into a tight ball and stuffed it in the trash can—exactly where her worries about Sasha belonged.

  Feeling lighter than she had in days, Bree exited the restroom, shivering slightly as a blast of cool air dried the sweat beneath her remaining long-sleeved tee shirt and travel vest.

  Minutes later, a warm Doubletree walnut chocolate chip cookie in hand, she climbed into a waiting cab and headed to her hotel and the end of this mission.

  Matthew leaned back in the airport lounge banquette and breathed a sigh of relief when Bree’s cab pulled away from the hotel without the dark sedan tailing it. With a few keystrokes, he rerouted the drone to keep an eye on the dark vehicle with the unreadable plates.

  He’d chosen well when he’d added Bree to his team. A combination of instinct and training had allowed her to completely alter her appearance between entering and exiting the hotel—saving her and the mission from unpleasant complications.

  Relief from working with an associate he trusted, versus walking a razor’s edge with Sasha, hit him with unexpected force, making him feel decades older than his thirty-plus years. He ran his fingers through his still damp hair, automatically searching for micro-tracking chips, despite his earlier cautions of washing away any such devices during his extended shower.

  The thought that Sasha, even now, had eyes on him caused an involuntary shudder to crawl up his spine. No. If she had eyes on anyone, it was Shoe, who was traveling to Chicago carrying paperwork proclaiming him to be Matthew Tugood. His team’s planning for the Project Isomer switches had been too detailed, too focused, on what-ifs to leave anything to chance.

  For that, too, he had to applaud Bree. Her chemistry career had taught her to look for and engineer around failures in experiments and equipment. As a result, she planned missions with a meticulous eye that even seasoned agents were hard pressed to emulate.

  Matthew signaled a passing club worker and, with a smile and a discreetly slipped tip, managed to have her bring him a cup of steaming coffee. The strong brew cleared away the cobwebs in his brain and delayed the onset of jet lag by several hours.

  Home. A place he’d forsaken decades ago and never thought to have again.

  Bree. The unexpected partner who’d wormed her way completely into his life.

  He leaned into a corner of the high-backed seat and let the unfamiliar feelings wash over him. He’d had nothing but professional covert relationships for so long, he’d forgotten how to live any other way. Or so he’d believed before he’d walked into a routine investigation at a small chemical company on behalf of his long-time mentor Gary Dolinski.

  The days since had turned his life upside down. He grinned, the expression unforced and unplanned for once. Is upside down in the topsy-turvy world of espionage really code for right-side up? Maybe, for the first time in a long time, he was seeing things as they should be.

  Chapter 3

  “Vacation is supposed to make you tired but relaxed,” Kiki said as she handed Bree a steaming cup of coffee. “You look like you just finished walking a tightrope across the Grand Canyon. What gives?”

  “Probably jet lag,” Bree mumbled. Yet again, she had to lie to her best friend, who thought the trip to San Francisco had been for relaxation and pleasure. Two things Bree needed desperately and wasn’t going to get.

  She took a gulp of coffee, rubbed her eyes, and gave Kiki a second—then third—look. Her friend’s short spiky hair sported orange, black, and purple colors, presumably in honor of the Halloween season.

  “Nice hair,” she said. “I can’t believe you are so much cooler than I am. I want to be you when I grow up.”

  “I have a dozen or so years of experience on you,” Kiki reminded her, laughing as if age didn’t matter a bit. “This kind of cool takes practice. Now back to you. I still can’t believe you won a trip to San Francisco from a radio call-in show. And that you decided to squeeze it in between your responsibilities here and the teaching gig at the college.”

  The reminder of the college job caught Bree mid-swallow and she choked on her coffee. She cast a panicked glance at her watch. Two hours till her scheduled class time. Forcing herself to take a calming breath, she turned back to Kiki. “I promised the university that I’d honor our teaching contract and help interview candidates for the job. As soon as they finalize their choice, I can transition my teaching duties over to him or her.”

  “It boggles my mind that our company went from a research and technology leader in the water and energy sectors to this,” Kiki waved her hand indicating the labs, “hodge-podge collection of science-for-hire projects. It’s even more mystifying that you stayed here instead of moving to a higher profile job with better chances for advancement. I’m old enough not to care, but you’re young and smart, with a PhD to boot. You could do better than… whatever this is.”

  The unspoken question hung in the air as Kiki regarded Bree intensely. Why? Bree wrapped her fingers around the coffee mug and stared into its dark depths. A voice in her head urged her to come clean with Kiki and explain that she wasn’t just working for a company that did contract science work. She was working undercover for an agency vital to national security. Or at least that was what she suspected, although Tugood insisted the Sci-Spy organization was a private venture. His private venture.

  “Does it have anything to do with our handsome boss?” Kiki asked, pulling Bree from her thoughts.

  “Troy? Don’t be silly. He’s much younger than me and too self-absorbed for words.”

  “Not Troy, and you know it. Matthew Tugood. I’ve seen the way you look at him.” Her eyes danced with mirth before becoming serious. “Bree, don’t cut yourself off from a chance to have it all. If there’s something real between the two of you, then go for it. But don’t think you have to stay in this dead-end job just because he works here too.”

  “There’s nothing between Matthew and me,” Bree interjected when Kiki took a swallow of coffee. “I work for him—”

  “Lie to me if you want, but don’t lie to yourself. There’s no shame in liking a man, even if he is your boss.”

/>   “He’s not. And I don’t.” Bree swallowed the lie along with a slug of her coffee. Matthew was her boss and partner. She’d once thought he might be more…until Sasha reentered the picture. If ever she could use Kiki’s advice, now was the time.

  But Kiki wasn’t privy to the Sci-Spy side of the business.

  “Bree,” Kiki hesitated, and the laughter left her face. “You could be doing so much more with your life.”

  I am. You just don’t know it. Bree plastered a smile on her face. “Careful, you’re starting to sound more like my mother than my best friend.”

  “God forbid! The last thing I need is another child.” Kiki laughed as she gathered her mug and rose to leave. “I’ll give you space to get ready for that class of yours. But don’t, I repeat, don’t…” she injected an expletive that Bree’s mother would never use, “settle for less than you deserve in life.”

  Don’t settle. Don’t settle. Don’t settle. The words pounded in Bree’s brain as she went through the motions of teaching, interviewing candidates, and walking to the vet school to visit her friend Dr. Melody Warthan.

  In less than a year, Bree had gone from lab chemist to solving three murders, chasing international terrorists, and learning the spy trade, all while juggling various science projects. She no longer thought of herself as just a chemist. She was more of a—

  “Jack of All Trades.”

  Bree whirled to confront the voice behind her but saw only Melody exiting an exam room. “How are things at the school since Max Edelston took over as Vice President of Student Affairs?” she asked her friend.

  Melody’s eyes crinkled as a smile lit up her face. “It hasn’t been long enough to know for sure, but I have the feeling he’ll bring about change.”

  “If the candidate pool for chemistry professor is any indication, he’ll make good on the promise to diversify the staff.”

  “Let’s hope. You know how I feel about the university’s track record.”

  “Records galore and so much more!” A squawk accompanied the announcement. Bree turned to peer into the exam room.

  “Come in and meet Scarlett the Grey,” Melody said, taking Bree by the arm. “She’s an African Grey parrot who has been a patient at our clinic for over thirty years. I started caring for her when I joined the staff.” Melody took a grape from a container on the counter and offered it to Scarlett. “Grape?”

  The parrot took the grape gently from Melody’s hand. “Love you,” she said.

  “You don’t love me; you love the grapes.”

  “Love you,” repeated Scarlett.

  Melody stroked the bird’s feathers. “Meet my friend Bree. Can you say hello?”

  “Hello. Want a deal?”

  Bree laughed and at Melody’s urging offered Scarlett a grape.

  “Love you,” replied Scarlett.

  “Where is she from?”

  “Scarlett belongs to Jack Trayder. You know, the man who runs Trader Jack’s Emporium?”

  An image of a tall man dressed as a pirate—complete with parrot perched on his shoulder—popped into Bree’s mind. “Do you mean the guy with the crazy commercials? Scarlett is that parrot?”

  “The very same. Scarlett belonged to his father and now to Jack Jr.”

  Bree shook her head. “They sell or rent anything and everything that was ever made. What’s that tag line? Trader Jack’s where you can be—”

  “Jack of all trades,” finished Scarlett before Bree could get the words out. “Welcome to Trader Jack’s.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Scarlett. You are quite the celebrity.” Scarlett preened, ruffling her feathers, showing off the spectacular red tail for which she might have been named.

  Melody turned to the bird. “Scarlett’s owner is due to pick her up soon. I’d better finish her exam.”

  They decided on a time to meet later. “We’re the best. Don’t settle for less,” called Scarlett as Bree walked away. “Good-bye, pretty.”

  As Bree walked toward her car, the smile slid from her face. Don’t settle. She shook her head in frustration. Her world was a strange place when even a parrot’s advice made her wonder about her life choices.

  Chapter 4

  The next morning, Bree stifled a yawn as she pulled out a chair next to Tugood at the Frank-N-Stein, a local 24/7 diner. He slid the coffee pot to her and waited until she took a sip.

  “It’s not like you to have serious jet lag. You weren’t even in California long enough to adjust.” He frowned at her. “Are you okay?”

  “Just tired.” She frowned back at him, earning a grin. “You set a brutal pace for investigations, boss.”

  “Only from protegees who can handle it.” He winked.

  Her stomach did a little flip and warmth flooded her senses. Stop it, she commanded herself silently. Matthew was a liar. A charmer. A loner. And a dangerous man. A spy without personal ties to anyone or anything—able to shove his emotions into a tiny box during missions.

  To combat thoughts of Matthew, she summoned up an image of Detective James O’Neil with his blond hair and boyish smile. James was what she needed. Caring. Open. Stable.

  Matthew nudged her elbow and she looked over to see him refilling her empty coffee cup. “While you’ve been daydreaming, business has been booming in Frank’s,” he murmured. “See anything of interest?”

  “The server has walked past us three times,” she replied, not hiding the irritation in her tone. “Once with a pot of coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs, hash browns, and wheat toast for the red-faced man in the faded brown sweater.

  "Once with a set of menus when she seated an elderly gentleman and his wife—both wore wedding rings and they argued over which day was garbage day. And once when she took coffee to a nondescript African American man with short hair, sitting by the window who drank his coffee plain and immediately started reading a battered paperback book.” She looked Tugood in the eye. “Unless the toast had a cryptic message burned into it, I saw no evidence of covert communications. Did I pass the quiz?”

  A ghost of a smile played on his lips as he shrugged. “How many people are there in the diner besides us?”

  “Seven.” She described them, adding in the locations of the exits and security cameras for good measure.

  Tugood nodded. “You’re learning, Bree.” He took a swallow of coffee. “I’m proud of you. Not only do you have good instincts, but you listen to them.” He went on to tell her that she’d been followed at the airport during the last mission.

  Bree felt the blood rush from her face. “I should have known.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. You did your job and acted on your instincts. Between the time you entered the hotel and the time you left, you completely changed your look, your walk, and nearly every other identifying aspect about yourself. Like I’ve told you before, you’re a natural.”

  “I didn’t do it on purpose,” Bree confessed, feeling like a fraud.

  Tugood merely shrugged. “Maybe not. But you didn’t consciously observe the people in the diner, either, yet you were spot on in your recollections. That’s instinct. And training.”

  Bree took another sip of coffee to avoid answering him. She’d been aware of thinking about James, not her surroundings. Even so, Tugood’s impromptu quiz showed her she was much more aware of everything going on around her than she’d given herself credit for.

  She’d effectively split her mind to ponder two separate issues. She shivered, aware her actions were too much like the man beside her, pondering if one day she’d also learn to pack away her emotions too.

  No wonder James wanted her to give up working for the Sci-Spy organization.

  A tinkle of the bell sounded at Frank’s entrance. Matthew and Bree observed the man framed in the doorway, his high styled pompadour haircut mere inches from the lintel. Easily six and a half feet tall with broad shoulders and a trim, yet muscular, torso with the slightest of paunches, he was immediately recognizable. Ev
en without the pirate costume.

  Matthew stood and held out his hand to welcome Jack Trayder, emporium owner and crazy commercial guy, who joined them for breakfast.

  “Something isn’t right about my business,” Jack said after the waitress took his order and left. All traces of the genial, funny man who’d first greeted them disappeared. Pinched, frowning brows replaced his earlier smiles. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy about the increased revenue, but the rental business isn’t known for the kind of explosive growth I’m seeing.”

  “Not even if you’re blowing up the competition?” Bree asked, citing a tag line from one of the more outrageous commercials where a villainous, masked Jack Trayder triggered a bomb set in a fictional competitor’s warehouse.

  A smile tugged at Jack’s lips, lightening his mood. “That was one of my dad’s first commercials. Inspired, I think, by the roadrunner and coyote cartoons of his childhood. Recreating it was fun for him.”

  A faraway look shadowed his eyes. “Those commercials and feeling like he’s still a vibrant part of the business, bring him joy. His dementia is still in early stages, but he knows what’s happening. I don’t want the business to slip away from him on my watch.”

  “You’ve only cited an increase in revenue,” Matthew said. “That doesn’t usually signal a business that’s going under. What else have you noticed?”

  Conversation paused as Jack’s breakfast was delivered and a fresh pot of coffee placed on the table. Bree nibbled at a slice of toast and sat back, watching Jack’s reactions as Matthew led the conversation.

  “It started about a year and a half ago.” Jack began telling the story between bites of scrambled eggs and ham. “We decided to add both vehicle rentals and storage units to the mix. A very different model than what we’d done before. I expected to have to finance the new additions for a while before they became profitable.”

  Matthew waited, letting silence do his work for him.