AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No.” I lean against the counter and grin. “But I’m awake, which means you’re awake. Things got fuzzy yesterday afternoon. Catch me up?”
“Um…” I can practically see her turn over as she smacks her lips, and I hear fabric rustling as she snuggles deeper into her blankets. “Dead guy. Missing eyes. Broken fingers.”
“I got that. What else?”
“Uh… Arch and Fletch think he’s a spy. There’s lots of secrecy going on with this one, and the torture seems to be… ya know… spy-ish.”
“Spy-ish?” Hugging my arm close, and cursing myself for not grabbing my sling on the way out of the bathroom, I keep still and cradle my injured limb.The more I let it heal, the sooner I don’t have to baby it anymore.“John Doe’s a spy? For who?”
“I dunno,” she says, but the words come out a mumblederdano. “Maybe he’s FBI. Or CIA. Or maybe he’s Putin’s, and this is all a huge conspiracy that’ll end with aliens invading Earth.”
“Or maybe you’re weird and gleefully tossing your educated brain out the window just because you’re tired. It’s nearly daybreak, Aubree. Buck up.”
“It’s four-thirty in the morning,” she groans. “This is cruel and unusual punishment. Why are you awake so early?”
“Four-thirty?” Frowning, I pull the phone from my ear and check the time on the screen for the first time today. Then bringing it back up, I scowl. “It’s four forty-one. Which is basically five. Which is a completely reasonable time to wake up, for those of us who have work to do.”
“It’s Sunday,” she grumbles. “And I was up late talking with your detective. I don’t feel like being awake at five—especially not when the five is actually a four.”
“My detective?” My brow sits high on my forehead. “You’ve been having late-night conversations with my husband, Doctor Emeri? I don’t approve.”
She snorts. “You were passed out and snoring, and Fletch was dealing with Moo. Archer had a question about our John Doe, since I guess he was working while you slept, so I took his call and answered his query. No biggie.”
It’s a biggie for me.
But that’s my toxic brain getting twitchy, and has nothing to do with logic or trust. So I push the thought aside and glance to the coffee machine instead, inhaling the delicious scent of fresh caffeine. “What else happened on the case while I was sleeping?”
“Uh… Arch had a composite sketch drawn up and sent over to Channel Nine. They’ll run it this morning and flush out an official identity for our guy. But if you want my opinion, I say if heisa spy and these are bad people who killed him, splashing him all over TV probably isn’t the best plan.”
Maybe it’s the only plan they have. Maybe it’s the best they’ve got with an otherwise unidentifiable body.
“Guess we trust them to do their job,” I murmur. “We’ll do ours. Speaking of, I intend to come into the George Stanley around eight and pull John Doe out of the fridge. I want to take a second look, now that my head is clearer. And yes, before you bring up the subject, schedule our team meeting for tomorrow, not today.”
“I knew you messed that up,” she snickers. “PS: I’m not your personal assistant. Call Fifi and tell her to do it.”
“Ha.” I roll my eyes and study thedrip-drip-dripof coffee into the pot below, because I don’t have a personal assistant. Fifi’s job is to handle the press, not my diary.
More importantly, she scares me a little, so the idea of waking her when a four is still present on the clock makes my bowels uneasy.
“Pleaseschedule a meeting for tomorrow?” I force my request past a smile. “It would mean a lot to me if you would act as my left hand during this difficult time, in which I do not have a functioning left hand to use.”
“Oh please. There’s a reason you went home exhausted and in pain last night, Mayet. It’s because you were using that hand all damn day, weighing organs like you don’t care you’re messing with your surgery. But sure,” she adds, just as I open my mouth to argue, “I’ll get that meeting scheduled. Is there anything else you need, or can I go back to sleep now and set an alarm for seven-fifty?”
My lips peel back with disapproval. “You only need ten minutes to get out the door and make it to work on time? Jesus, Emeri. I need ten minutes just for the shower. Then another ten to stare into my coffee mug and contemplate this odd stage of life I’ve found myself in.”
“Usually I take longer to get ready,” she yawns. “But on special occasions when my boss calls me on a Sunday,andwhile the moon is still out, I’ve been known to hustle my ass out the door while also maximizing sleep.”
“Uh-huh. Okay, well…” The coffee pot finishes filling, so I push away from the counter and turn to look up at the cabinet that houses mugs, wishing I had a second good shoulder with which to reach up and retrieve one. “Happy sleeping. I’ll see you in a few. If we work extra hard, we might solve this one by close of business.”
“Well, first of all,” she drawls. “It’s Sunday, so we’re already outside business hours. And second, you know, it isn’t actually our job to solve the crime, right? It’s our job to write reports, determine cause of death, and assist the relevant authorities astheysolve the crime.”
“Cool story. Sleep well.”
I lower my phone and kill the call, but when I’d rather toss the device down and ignore it, I instead search for a charger and plug it in before I end up at work with a dead phone and a headache from annoyance.
Finally grabbing a mug down from the cabinet, I pour life-saving liquid into it until it almost sloshes over the lip. Then heading to the fridge and taking out a carton of creamer, I add a splash before putting it away again.
One-handed.
