Page 3 of Rules of Engagement

"We get some occasionally," I said. A couple of past clients did send nice cards that were still stuck to the cork board installed above the coffee station in the office. They served as a nice reminder that we provided a valuable service; a far nicer reminder than the boxes of closed files still waiting to be archived, although they were good advertising too.

"Are you heading back to the office now?" asked Solomon.

I nodded. "I have some case notes to wrap up. I hope you have something big for me next."

"Maybe." He winked and I pretended to gasp. That is, the gasp was real but there was no need to stroke his ego.

"Where are you going?" I asked, guessing it wasn't the office.

"I need to check up on a job one of the risk assessors is handling."

"Hence, the tie?" I asked. "You look very nice."

"What? This old thing?" Solomon winked. "The job might take some time but I think I'll be home around seven. Should we order take out?"

I thought of all the cake we'd just eaten. "You're already thinking about food?"

"I'm hungry!"

"Where did you put all that cake?" I asked, making a show of patting him down. The parts of him that wouldn't get me arrested for public indecency anyway.

"That was nothing. A mere snack." He laughed when I found a ticklish spot before catching my hands and pulling me closer. The sweet kiss he gave me tasted of buttercream. "I'll call if I'm going to be late," he said.

I opened my car door and slipped inside the black VW, waving as Solomon jogged across the street to his own black SUV. Reaching for my cellphone, I found my pocket empty. Checking my purse, then my jeans pockets, then all along the sides of the seats, I muttered, "Damn," knowing it must have slipped out at the wedding planner's studio. I grabbed my purse and hopped out, hurrying back to the salon as a light drizzle began to fall from the gray clouds passing overhead. The bell tinkled again when I pushed the door open, and I looked around.

Francesca stepped out of the room we'd just vacated. "Looking for this?" she asked, holding my cellphone aloft.

"Yes!" I blew out a relieved gasp. "I knew I last had it when we were in here. It must have slipped out of my pocket.

"I just found it on the floor when I heard the bell. I'm glad you realized you left it but I would have brought it to your office if you hadn't come back," she said.

"I appreciate that," I said as I took it.

"Lexi?" she started hesitantly before waving a hand dismissively. "Oh, never mind. It's nothing."

I watched her face, noticing the frown lines and worry in her eyes, two things the falsely bright smile couldn't quite conceal. I knew if I asked Francesca if she were okay, she would brush me off. Instead, I said, "Tell me what's wrong."

She hesitated before saying, "Is it that obvious?"

I nodded.

"Something's going on with my assistant and I don't know what to do. It's probably nothing..."

"But your gut tells you otherwise?"

"Yes."

"How can I help?"

"I thought, maybe, well, because you're a private investigator, maybe you could suggest something I can do to find out what is really going on. She's been pretty secretive and evasive."

"She's normally open?"

"Oh, yes. Usually Keira is great, but lately... I just have a bad feeling."

"Why don't you tell me about it and I'll see what I can suggest?"

"Okay." Francesca drew me into the backroom and shut the door. We pulled out two chairs and sat at the table while I waited for Francesca to begin.

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