Chocolate, Lies, and Murder (Amber Fox Mysteries Book #4)

by Sibel Hodge

  ‘Were there any love notes with the recent knickers?’ I asked.

  ‘No. They were threatening this time. He’s obviously realized he can’t have me, so now he’s threatening to kill me.’

  ‘And has he turned up anywhere near you recently?’

  ‘No. The police have questioned him about it, but he’s denying it’s him this time.’

  ‘And last time, I take it, he admitted it was him?’

  ‘Oh, yeah. I think he really believed in all that Sporkite stuff.’

  I glanced at Brad. ‘So maybe it’s not Dr Spork this time.’

  ‘That’s what I need you to find out.’ He stretched out his long, very toned legs and leaned back in the chair.

  ‘Yeah, while Brad’s protecting me, you can find out if it is Dr Spork or not.’ Aleesha gave Brad a man-eating grin and licked her lips again.

  ‘Haven’t you got a boyfriend at home this week to protect you?’ I tilted my head.

  She waved a hand dismissively. ‘Nah. I’m in between men at the moment. Plus, Brad used to be in the SAS. He can probably break someone’s neck with his bare hands if he has to.’ She eyed his hands longingly, as if imagining those hands all over her. ‘He’s all the protection I need.’

  ‘Yes, I’m well aware of what his hands can do, thank you very much,’ I said.

  My stomach flipped uneasily. Brad on twenty-four-hour bodyguard duties with a home-wrecker like Aleesha? I bet her definition of body guarding wasn’t the same as mine.

  Uh-oh. My perfect life had just turned bad.

  Chapter 2

  As Aleesha waited in reception for me to have a quick chat with Brad, I shut his office door and leaned against it, giving him one of my best eye rolls.

  ‘You do know what she’s like, don’t you?’ I stared at him, my heart giving a worried little flutter. There was no denying he was gorgeous. Six foot, solid muscle, cropped hair with tiny flecks of grey around the temples, and eyes that hinted at a sense of danger underneath the surface, all gave him that hot, rugged bad-guy look. And it had been a long and rocky journey for us to get back to being together again. I never wanted to risk losing him again. Especially not a week before the wedding.

  He came around his desk and pushed his hard body into mine, staring deep into my eyes as he pinned me against the door. ‘Are you OK with this?’

  ‘Well, it’s a bit late to ask me now. It sounds like you’ve already made your mind up,’ I tried not to sound too huffy, but the scale on my Huff-o-meter was a bit warped and it came out pretty damn huffy.

  ‘You’re not jealous, are you, Foxy?’

  ‘Nuh-uh. Not me.’

  He tucked a wayward curl behind my ear and then cupped my chin in his hand. ‘You know there’s nothing to worry about, don’t you? This is just a job, that’s all. If something does happen to her, Hi-Tec will have to pay out a huge life insurance policy, and what with the recession going on for so long, that’s the last thing we can afford right now. This is just proactive insurance.’ He pressed himself into me harder. We moulded perfectly together.

  He was right. There had been some big insurance claims to pay out lately and Hi-Tec would be struggling if things didn’t pick up. The last thing the company needed was another huge loss.

  ‘You’re the only woman for me. You always have been,’ he whispered in my ear, his breath vibrating against my skin and sending shivers up my spine.

  I wanted to believe him, but the green-eyed monster seemed to be messing with my brain. ‘So why didn’t you ever tell me she was your ex before, then?’

  ‘Because it didn’t last long, and she’s not important.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ I tried to ignore the tingling sensation as his hand slid round to the back of my neck and stroked that sensitive spot right…oooh, yeah, that’s nice.

  ‘You have to trust me.’ He carried on stroking.

  My insides melted. ‘I do trust you.’ And I did. After we’d split up and I ended up working for him, he’d done everything in his power to get me back. He’d proved to me that he loved me more than anything, but that didn’t mean I wanted to put him slap bang in the middle of possible temptation with someone like Aleesha. ‘What about her. I don’t trust her at all. And why didn’t you tell her I was your fiancé?’

  ‘Because knowing her, if she thinks someone’s unavailable, she’ll try even harder to get her claws into them. And I’m definitely unavailable.’ He leaned forward and brushed his lips on mine. My mouth parted, my tongue seeking his in a fiery show of longing.

  Wow. Girly bits hotting up here! Down girl!

  I ran my hands up the back of his shirt, pulling him closer.

  He leaned back and said, ‘Don’t worry, Foxy. It’s strictly business between Aleesha and me, and I have a sneaking suspicion that Aleesha’s probably sending the knickers and notes to herself for publicity. She’ll do anything to get in the tabloids. I doubt it’s going to take you long to prove it wasn’t Dr Spork and it was her all along, so this body guarding thing will be over in a few days.’

  I nodded, not wanting to go on about it. I mean, jealousy’s not that attractive, is it? I had to trust him. ‘So what’s the plan?’ I asked, wishing I could jump his bones right there and then.

  ‘I’ll be accompanying her to modelling jobs, and she’s got a daily slot on that TV show called Real Women now.’

  I laughed. ‘Real Women? Don’t you have to have an audition or something to prove you are actually a real woman and not just fake plastic?’

  The corners of his lips curled into a grin. ‘I’ll also be living at her house, too, until this is finished.’

  I growled again.

  ‘I thought you weren’t jealous.’

  ‘I’m not. Haven’t got a jealous bone in my body.’ Well, maybe just a teensy one, like my little toe.

  ‘I’ll just nip home and get some clothes before I take her back to her house. Meanwhile, you get onto the Dr Spork angle, just in case, then find out if it is Aleesha doing this to herself for a publicity stunt. Believe me, I don’t want to be spending any more time with her than I have to, either.’ He slid his arms around my waist, stroking my lower back. ‘I can think of much better things to be doing in preparation for the wedding.’

  ‘Oi! What’s taking so long?’ Aleesha’s ugly voice shouted from reception.

  I rolled my eyes at Brad again and disentangled myself from his arms.

  ‘There’s a file about Dr Spork and the previous court case.’ Brad nodded towards his desk. ‘Keep me posted, OK?’

  I gave him a salute. ‘Yes, boss.’

  He opened the door and strolled out. From the doorway of his office I watched Aleesha and her camel follow Brad past Tia at reception, and out of Hi-Tec.

  I picked up the file from his desk, then went back to mine and flopped down in the chair in front of Hacker.

  ‘Yo,’ Hacker said in between tapping on his various keyboards. In Hacker’s world, ‘Yo’ meant ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’.

  I stared at the cake on my desk but, surprisingly, I didn’t want it. Usually, bad news gave me an appetite, and I had a sneaky feeling that having Aleesha in my life was definitely bad news. But for some bizarre reason, I couldn’t eat it. My appetite had vanished.

  Uh-oh. I’d only gone off food once before, and that’s when I’d split up with Brad.

  Oh, crap. Maybe it was a sign. A premonition that we were going to split up again. I needed to wrap this case up as quickly as possible before I became a statistic on her home-wrecking list, or I lost weight from not eating junk food and my legs became skinny arms like Aleesha’s.

  Hacker eyed the cake. ‘Aren’t you eating that?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘That’s not like you.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ I mumbled.

  ‘Are you ill?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve got a case of Aleesha-itis.’ I jumped to my feet and hurried down the corridor towards the reception desk.

  Tia was psychic, although her heebi
e-jeebie premonitions never seemed to help much in solving cases. But, even if I didn’t believe in all that hocus pocus, a girl couldn’t take chances. Maybe Tia would have some wacky vision that could help me keep man-eaters at bay.

  Tia bent her head over some paperwork, and she didn’t hear me approach.

  ‘Pssst,’ I said.

  Her head shot up, and she smiled. ‘Hey, what’s up?’

  ‘Are you getting any weird psychic visions about Miss Camel Hoof?’

  She frowned. ‘Huh?’

  ‘You know, Aleesha the Man-eater.’

  ‘Well…’ She tilted her head, thinking. ‘…no?’ It came out more like a question.

  I stamped my foot. Childish, I know. ‘Nothing?’ I pleaded. ‘You can’t see her running off with Brad and having little baby camels together?’

  She bit her lip. ‘I can’t control when I get the feelings, they just happen. Sorry, Amber, but if I get one, I’ll let you know, I promise.’

  Growl.

  Her huge eyes lit up. ‘Ooh, I know! How about we do a spell!’

  Yeah, here’s the other thing about Tia; she does spells. She makes me do them, too, even though I totally don’t believe in them. I just do it to humour her. Really. Usually when she talked me into doing one, something ended up breaking, and I didn’t want it to be my heart this time.

  I pursed my lips. ‘Maybe if I get really desperate, I’ll do one.’

  ‘Awesome.’ She clapped her hands together and bounced up and down in her chair.

  ‘Right. Better get to work.’ I turned on my heels and retraced my steps back to the office to read all about Dr Spork.

  I picked up the file and perused through. Dr Spork was born Cecil Oswald Turner-Docherty. Maybe if I’d been born with that name, I’d have changed it, too. He was thirty-one and had no prior police record apart from the original stalking incident a year ago. As Aleesha said, she took him to court and won a restraining order to keep him away from her. The court ordered that he have psychiatric treatment for a delusional disorder and erotomania, whatever that was. It sounded like a good sequel name to Fifty Shades of Grey. Since the court case and his treatment, he maintained he’d never stalked Aleesha again. So if it wasn’t him, was it Aleesha? She was a publicity hound and didn’t care what she did to get in the papers. And if it was him, what had suddenly changed for him to start stalking her again?

  I gasped when I saw the name of his court appointed psychiatrist. Suzy Fox. My sister. Suzy was the serious one in the family, with zilch sense of humour, always perfectly turned out in designer gear. She had very smooth, tidy hair that looked like she’d just stepped out of a Timotei advert. I was the joker with a big mouth, usually found wearing my casual uniform of jeans or combats and Skechers or UGGs. I thought Suzy was cold and detached and she thought I was crazy. Maybe she had a point, but that was probably why we never quite saw eye to eye on most things. If I had to describe her in one word, it would be ‘uptight’. I’m pretty sure the last time I saw Suzy crack a smile was in 1980. I’d inherited Mum and Dad’s eccentric and quirky genes, but I think hers must’ve been mutated at birth, or maybe the stork got the orders mixed up, because she was nothing like any of us. Oh, well, maybe having her on the case would make my job easier.

  I stuffed the file in my rucksack. ‘Yo.’ I nodded goodbye to Hacker. ‘I have to see a man about a pair of chocolate knickers.’

  ****

  Dr Spork lived in a small flat in the rough end of town. I parked my car in the communal car park and wondered if it would still have all four wheels when I got back. Jogging up the graffiti-adorned stairway that smelled of cat wee, and probably human wee, too, I emerged on the first floor and pinched my nose. I wandered past the battered and neglected-looking blue doorways along the corridors until I found flat thirty-six and knocked on the door.

  A short, squat man with lots of long, dark curly hair opened the door and peered round it. Some of his hair was tied in a skewiff ponytail, threatening to escape its rubber band binding and break free. He was probably the first person I’d met who had scarier hair than I did. He had a bushy beard and, actually, it was hard to tell where his hair ended and his skin began. Still, I bet he was lovely and roasty-toasty in winter, a bit like Sasquatch. He wore jeans with the waistband pulled up high. Any higher, and the jeans would be up to his armpits.

  ‘Are you…Doctor Spork?’ I said, stifling the urge to laugh. I know, I’m a very bad girl.

  He nodded, glancing up and down the corridor to see if anyone was listening. ‘Yes. Is this about Aleesha again?’ His eyes widened innocently. ‘I’ve already answered loads of questions from your police colleagues already.’

  ‘Well, I have a few more questions for you, I’m afraid.’ I smiled brightly. I wasn’t above telling a few white lies to solve a case, and if he thought I was from the police, who was I to put him right? I mean, he thought he was from Planet Spork, and I hadn’t corrected him, had I?

  He sighed, and his shoulders hunched. ‘OK, I suppose you’d better come in.’

  His front door opened straight into a tiny open living room-slash-kitchen. It was neat and tidy and in complete contrast to the untidy hair. A giant painting on one of the all-black walls depicted a planet done in purples, blues, yellows, reds, and greens. An old TV sat in the corner of the room with a games console on top, and a two-seater grey checked sofa sat on the opposite side.

  I stared at the painting. ‘Nice.’ It wasn’t. It looked a bit like a toddler had thrown up over a canvas after eating lots of M&M’s.

  He clasped his hands together and smiled with appreciation. ‘I did it. It’s a painting of Planet Spork. I’m a bit of an artist.’

  ‘I can see. So, where exactly is Planet Spork? I don’t think they mentioned it in Astronomy at school.’

  ‘You go past Mars, all the way to Uranus, turn right at Pluto, and it’s straight in front of you.’

  ‘Oooookaaaaaay.’

  ‘You don’t believe me, do you?’ He let out a huge sigh and sank onto the sofa. ‘No one does. That’s the problem.’

  I looked round for somewhere else to sit and spied a plastic chair in the kitchen. ‘Do you mind if I get that chair?’

  He looked dejectedly at his lap and shook his head. ‘No, I don’t mind.’

  I grabbed the chair and sat in front of him. ‘OK, so the stalking thing with Aleesha. What happened?’

  ‘I’m all better now, honestly. The court made me go and see this really good psychiatrist, and I’m all cured. I know now that Aleesha doesn’t love me, and she’s not really meant to be my wife. I haven’t sent her anything lately, like she told the police, honestly.’ He gazed up at me with watery eyes.

  ‘So what happened in the beginning, when you were stalking her?’

  ‘Well, I thought the Sporkites from Planet Spork were telling me that Aleesha and I were meant to be together. They told me telepathically that she loved me too, and that all I had to do to win her heart was send her pairs of knickers. The Sporkites are old-fashioned creatures, and they weren’t very happy that she kept appearing in the papers with no underwear, you see.’ He paused and twiddled his thumbs round and round. ‘The chocolate part was my idea, though. I heard that women really love chocolate, but maybe that’s where I went wrong. Perhaps Aleesha doesn’t really like it that much, and she would’ve preferred regular cotton knickers.’ He peered at me. ‘Do you like chocolate?’

  Hmm. That was a dilemma. Yes, I loved the stuff, but I didn’t think it would be very wise to admit that. I might be next on the knickers list.

  I waved a dismissive hand. ‘It’s gross. Hate the stuff.’

  ‘See, I think that was the problem. Maybe I tried to be too adventurous. I think I should’ve just sent her some nice, comfortable knickers.’

  Yeah, probably nothing to do with the telepathic Sporkites at all.

  ‘Anyway…’ I tilted my head in a ‘Go on’ gesture.

  ‘The Sporkites chose me as their leader.’

&nbs
p; ‘Why?’

  ‘What do you mean, why?’

  ‘Well.’ I waved a hand round. ‘Why did they pick you instead of, say, Flash Gordon or Captain Kirk? Do you have any qualifications for the job? Just trying to build up a picture here.’

  ‘Er…’ He tugged at the end of his ponytail with one hand, thinking. ‘Maybe it’s because I’ve got a really big wenis.’

  I raised my eyebrows. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t mention that too often. Nobody likes a bragger.’

  He seemed confused for a second, then his eyes lit up with realization. ‘No!’ He waved his arms around. ‘I don’t mean that! I mean my wenis. Your wenis is the skin on your elbow.’ He pinched the skin on his right elbow and stretched it away from the bone, waggling it around.

  He was right; it was big. Although I didn’t have anything to compare it to. I wasn’t in the habit of waggling my wenis.

  ‘The Sporkites have a big wenis, too. Maybe that’s why I was the chosen one.’

  ‘Well, you learn something new every day.’ I shook my head. ‘So, what’s the plural of wenis? Wenises or weni?’

  He tilted his head and thought for a moment. ‘I think it’s weenie.’

  ‘That could be it. So, anyway, what else happened with the original stalking?’

  ‘Well, whenever I’d follow Aleesha to her modelling gigs or find out where she was on a night out, I used to think she was sending me secret signals.’

  ‘What kind of signals?’

  ‘When she ran her hand through her hair, it was a signal to me that she wanted me to propose.’

  ‘But you don’t think all this anymore?’

  He shook his head, and his hair went crazy. ‘No. I told you. The psychiatrist told me I was suffering from erotomania and delusions, and now I know that it was all in my head. I’m cured, and I haven’t even thought about sending Aleesha any more knickers or notes.’