Mission

by Camilla Chafer

  MISSION: POSSIBLE

  Lexi Graves Mysteries, 14

  Camilla Chafer

  Mission: Possible

  Copyright: Camilla Chafer

  Published: November 2020

  ISBN: 978-1-909577-24-4

  The right of Camilla Chafer to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

  Visit the author online at www.camillachafer.com to sign up to her mailing list and for more information on other titles.

  Contents

  Copyright

  Synopsis

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Mailing list sign-up

  Other books

  Mission: Possible

  After PI Lexi Graves is approached to investigate an accident which has left the homeowner, Sophie Takahashi, in a coma, she quickly realizes the case isn't quite as clear cut as first appears. For one thing, Sophie's injuries are inconsistent with her supposed accident. Secondly, her husband is suspicious she might not be who she says she is. Who really is the woman in the hospital bed? And why would someone want to hurt her?

  As Lexi ponders the merits of the case, she's caught up in a bank robbery. The heist crew are clearly professional, yet not a penny is stolen. With the police and FBI sniffing around, the nervous bank manager needs their help. There's only one small problem: he won't tell them what's missing.

  Tracking down a mystery attacker, confirming an identity, and solving a bank robbery? Just a regular week for Montgomery's most peppy PI!

  Chapter One

  "Thanks for the invitation, Mom, but I can't make your nude life drawing class; a big case just came in," I said, crossing my fingers as if that somehow protected me from retribution for the whopper I just told. I wasn't busy; I just didn't want to be excruciatingly embarrassed by my mom. It was a small ask, surely?

  "Next time?" suggested Mom, her voice laced with disappointment. "You'll meet such wonderful people and expand your social circle."

  I considered that. "I like my current social circle," I decided.

  "Your current social circle is Lily. I don't even know why I said 'current'. It's been that way for years. You need to get out more often and make some friends, Lexi."

  "I have friends! I have Solomon..."

  "He's your husband," interrupted Mom.

  "I have Garrett and Traci and..."

  "Are you going to name all your siblings and their spouses?"

  I stopped, their names on the tip of my tongue. "No," I sulked. "I was going to say Maddox."

  "Your ex-boyfriend."

  "Ruby," I decided. "Ruby is my friend!"

  "Ooo-kaay," scoffed Mom. "We'll ignore that Ruby is Lily's employee. You have two friends. There's a class on Thursday nights called 'How to Make Friends' and a free book is included with the course fee. I think you should sign up. I'll come with you for support. I'll be your wing-mom."

  "I have to go. I'm being called to a meeting. Talk soon!" I disconnected before my mother could suggest any more classes. However, I probably disconnected too soon because I had a sinking feeling that a sign-up note to the friendship class would arrive in my email inbox imminently. I also neglected to ask just whom was the subject of the nude drawing. If it were my mom, I was leaving town.

  "Ready?" asked Solomon, breezing past me as he walked from his office to the small boardroom situated on one side of the shared office where I currently sat.

  The Solomon Detective Agency started with just this office, which I shared with three other private investigators - a coterie of ex-law enforcement - and one tech expert. Solomon had a small office walled off in one corner but the door was rarely shut. Below us was a small suite of meeting rooms for clients, well away from the incriminating photos and evidence files on our desks. With the success of the agency, Solomon had recently expanded to include the floor above and also increased the number of employees. They covered other security aspects of Solomon's growing business and came from diverse backgrounds.

  I am Lexi Graves, Private Investigator. My previous life included a tedious job as a bored temp until I stumbled over the dead body of my boss, which thrust me headlong into a mystery that I helped solve. Once that ended, Solomon hired me to work for the agency because I wasn't the typical PI. Being cute and peppy, no one ever suspects me of snooping into their business, which is crucial. Unlike the other PIs at the agency who spent collective decades in the Army, police force, and other agencies, I also dress a damn sight better than any of them. And to make things even more interesting, I married the boss. That was not a bad thing; I figured the other guys weren't his type.

  "Ready," I agreed as I shut my laptop, following him. I circled the table, took a seat on the far side, my back to the glass, and reached for a donut. As I sat down again, I became acutely aware of our positioning. "Why do I have to sit with my back to the window?" I asked. "Why is this always the last remaining seat?"

  "We're all programmed to assume we could be shot at any moment," said Matt Flaherty. Flaherty got shot while he was a police detective before he retired from the force. He still walked with a nearly undetectable limp but his brain was too sharp for retirement. A close friend of Solomon's, my husband trusted him absolutely.

  I glanced over my shoulder. "And you're not worried I could be shot?" I asked, a concerned frown creasing my forehead.

  "If you're not worried, we're not worried," said Delgado. Although Antonio Delgado, a brick wall and ex-Army man, was someone you wouldn't want to meet for the first time in a dark alley, he was a sweetheart emotionally. Since he married my uptight sister, Serena, not too long ago, as far as I was concerned, he rose to become a saint-in-waiting. As an added bonus, both his marriage and mine cemented Solomon, Delgado and me as bonafide family.

  I glanced over my shoulder again, surveilling the street beyond. It seemed quiet outside, traffic was low and only a few pedestrians littered the sidewalk, but who could tell? Perhaps there was a sniper crouched in a building with their sites trained on me? Maybe they would take me out before my mom could sign me up for the friendship class? A small mercy. "Now I'm worried," I said, risking another glance to peruse the roof of the building opposite, just in case. "Who wants to swap seats with me?"

  Flaherty and Delgado shook their heads. I looked at Steve Fletcher but he was too busy ogling the donuts with hungry eyes. After what probably felt like several lifetimes with the CIA, Fletcher deserved any small pleasures. So, I slunk a little lower in my seat and hoped my death was both swift and graceful, not while busily stuffing a jelly donut in my face.

  "If you've all finished tormenting Lexi with impending doom, I'm ready," said Solomon. He shuffled the small stack of files into neat order and looked around.

  "I notice you didn't offer to swap seats," said Delgado.

  Solomon fixed h
im with a look and Delgado shrugged. "Just sayin’."

  "He has a point," I said. "My own husband is putting me in the crosshairs."

  "You are not in the crosshairs," said Solomon.

  "Moody ass hairs," I mumbled.

  "Gross," said Delgado, making a face.

  "Would you like to swap seats?" asked Solomon, holding back a sigh.

  Solomon was at the head of the table, the position of power. If I swapped, my colleagues might infer I was a scared, little woman who couldn't bear the idea of a dance with death. They would tease me relentlessly. It wasn't worth it. I worked too hard to earn their respect and had actually faced death too many times already.

  "I'm fine, thanks," I said as nonchalantly as I could while seriously contemplating the donuts. Jelly or coconut? Chocolate or maple glazed? Sometimes life threw good questions at me.

  "Then let's..."

  "If I do get shot in the back of the head and don’t survive," I interrupted, "I would like Queen's ‘Another One Bites the Dust’ to be played at my funeral."

  "Good choice," said Fletcher.

  Solomon started to rise. "Swap seats," he ordered.

  I waved him down with the donut I just pried from Fletcher's paws. "I said I'm fine," I told him as I tossed my hair theatrically. "Unless I come back as a zombie."

  "That would be rough," said Fletcher.

  "Maybe I should choose ‘Staying Alive’ by the BeeGees to be played instead," I pondered.

  "Not gonna happen," said Solomon, barely restraining an eye roll.

  "What do we have?" I asked.

  Solomon fixed me with a long look. When it became uncomfortable, I smiled and bit into my donut. "A few interesting cases," he started. "A possible cat theft ring in the Bedford Hills. Several expensive pedigree female cats are missing and the owners are considering asking us to look more deeply into it."

  "No need for that," said Delgado. "I have an informant in the neighborhood who says all the female cats are in heat; they’re just escaping for a little fun, if you know what I mean."

  "I can't believe this is how my day is starting," I muttered while taking another bite of the donut.

  "Who's your informant?" asked Solomon.

  "The local veterinary surgeon. Cool guy. Says he's been trying to convince the homeowners to neuter their cats for months but they won't listen. Now maybe they will, since it sounds like there will soon be a crossbred kitten explosion."

  "I'll let them know to contact us in a few days if the cats don’t return," said Solomon. He put the file to one side. "Next up is a strip bar on the outskirts of town. Their cash register comes up short every night and they want someone to look into it. They can employ one of us undercover until we get a camera system up and running."

  All eyes except Solomon's turned to me. "Nope," I said. "I'm not going undercover as a stripper."

  "There won't be anything undercover about it," spluttered Fletcher as he tried not to laugh.

  "The undercover role will be at the bar," said Solomon. "No nudity required."

  "What about dancing on the bar?" asked Flaherty. He looked at me. "Do we know anyone specifically proficient in that area?"

  I chewed my donut and stayed quiet.

  "What exactly do they wear behind the bar?" wondered Fletcher. "Do we know anyone who wears tight clothing and tosses her hair all the time?"

  This donut really was delicious!

  "Solomon already said it's not a clothes-off gig," said Delgado. "Maybe it calls for a cocktail waitress outfit. Little, black dress and a stiletto heel straight into the balls if anyone gets too handsy. Lexi can take care of that."

  "Still nope," I said. It was bad enough helping Lily out at her bar when she was short-staffed. At least, her clientele didn't expect anything "extra" from the employees.

  "That's fine," said Solomon. "It's not actually a female strip bar. It's guys. One of you is taking it," he added, glancing at my colleagues. "You can wear tight outfits, stilettos and toss your hair all you want, but it's not required."

  "I'm sorry, what?" said Fletcher as his head shot up.

  "It's a male strip bar. The guys are the ones doing all the stripping. You'll be at the bar, serving drinks and taking cash, while keeping an eye on the other bartenders and employees," explained Solomon. "Any volunteers?"

  I licked the sugar off my fingers and tried not to laugh.

  "I'm not in such good shape right now," said Delgado, patting his stomach. "I don't think I'd blend in."

  "Then it's one of you two," said Solomon, moving his gaze to Fletcher and Flaherty.

  "Rock, paper, scissors?" said Fletcher, holding out his hand. He lost the first round, won the second, then suggested, "Best of three?"

  "Moving on," said Solomon while the pair continued to duke it out. "Delgado, I have one for you." Solomon opened the next file and read the issue out loud while Delgado nodded along.

  "Just my thing, boss," said Delgado, taking the file and flipping the pages. "I'll get right on it. Might be a simple solution, based on the client interview."

  "Anything else?" I asked.

  "There's a cyber security case at one of the local investment firms. They suspect spyware on their computer network..."

  "Not my forte," I told him, not that he didn't already know that.

  "I'm taking that one," Solomon confirmed. "Lucas is already working on it, hence his absence from the meeting. The last one is a stakeout at a business downtown. The prospective client suspects his partner of attempting to force the sale of the business and wants him followed to ascertain any underhanded dealings that might be going on. That's more Fletcher or Flaherty's area of expertise although the strip club case came in first so we might have to decline this one. You two can choose between the cases."

  "So, I have nothing to do?" I asked.

  "The cat case might come back to us."

  "I can hardly wait!"

  "I want you to handle any walk-ins tomorrow," asked Solomon. "It's your turn to take care of the phones so try to enjoy some down time. Something will come in soon and I want to have a PI fully ready."

  "Sure." I brightened. "Can I take off for the rest of the day since I'm not officially needed right now? Lily wanted me to go with her somewhere."

  "Yes, but keep your phone with you in case I have to call you in," replied Solomon. He glanced at Fletcher and Flaherty. "Are you two still deciding who goes to the male strip bar?"

  "Best of twenty-five," said Fletcher, bouldering his hand.

  "You could always decline the case," I suggested.

  "I could," said Solomon, "but the club belongs to a much bigger firm that serve as an umbrella company for a range of businesses. This case is small fry but they might have something more challenging next time. I'd like for us to make a good impression."

  "We're off to a great start," I said as I watched my colleagues play their hand game. I pushed my chair back and followed Solomon and Delgado out. Delgado returned to his desk and I trailed Solomon into his office. I didn't bother shutting the door behind me, but lingered instead in the doorway. "Were they joking with me about getting shot because my back was to the window?" I asked.

  Solomon glanced up as he dropped the case files onto his desk. "Were you actually worried about that?" he asked.

  "No," I said, running a hand over the back of my head self-consciously.

  "There's a grain of truth in it. They are trained to expect danger. And to look for things. Mainly dangerous situations. They can't do that if they have their backs to the room, or the window or a wide-open space. Mostly though, they were just messing with you."

  The tension dropped from my shoulders. "So reassuring."

  Solomon moved the few steps towards me and ran his hands along my upper arms, giving me tingles. "That's why I let them run their mouths off before announcing one of them was being assigned to the male strip bar," he said.

  I grinned. "That was rather satisfying."

  "Even more satisfying is watching Fletch
er and Flaherty both struggle to win that game, while in reality, they're both going undercover!" Solomon's smile lit up his face. "There was no other case so they don't have a choice. I was just messing with them."

  "I wish I could be a fly on the wall when you tell them that." I checked my watch. I could still meet Lily if I hurried. "I better go now. Lily asked me to go to baby yoga with her and I said I'd try to make it." I’d even dressed in black leggings and a flowing buttercup-yellow top in anticipation that I would have time.

  "I wondered why you dressed in all that Lycra this morning. Don't you need a baby for baby yoga?" Solomon's gaze dropped to my stomach where there wasn't any baby. There had been a lot of discussion lately, and plenty of practice for the main event but no firm decisions. I was happy with that.

  "I have no idea. I just figured we could share Poppy. Won't that make it easier?"

  Solomon dropped a kiss on my lips. "Have fun."

  I left my laptop and camera in the office since I didn't have a case and nothing to research. Grabbing my purse and the keys to one of the pool cars, I headed out. My car had recently exploded into a fireball during the course of an investigation and I still hadn’t purchased a new one. Driving my trusty VW for so long, I had no idea what to choose for my next vehicle. The same model? Or something newer? Or snazzier? Until I made that decision, Solomon suggested I either take his car or one of the two vehicles that he purchased for employee use while conducting agency business. Neither car was particularly fancy — Solomon preferred them boring and unnoticeable on stakeouts — but they functioned safely and they got me where I wanted to go.

  Lily told me to meet her at the yoga studio on Century Street, aptly named because it probably took a hundred years to traverse in bad traffic. When I arrived, the parking lot the studio shared with several other businesses was packed tightly so I took a spot at the far end. Hopping out, I began walking towards the small group of women holding babies who were standing outside. Lily broke away and waved to me. Poppy, straddled on Lily's hip, attempted a floppy, chubby, hand wave. I hurried over, clasped Poppy's hand and embraced them both.