Page 20 of Pied Sniper

“She is. You’re not interviewing her there or anywhere else,” said Diana. “Let’s go.” This time, she ushered me in a far firmer fashion, leaving Maddox behind us. One apologetic glance backwards and Maddox simply stared.

“He’s a very good friend,” I explained, “and my ex-boyfriend. He used to be a detective here, working under my brother when he was Detective Garrett Graves.”

“And he’s FBI, and on the case,andyou’re lucky things aren’t worse,” said Diana, guiding me to the reception. “Let me do my job please. Any police or FBI questioning needs to take place with me present.”

“You’ll have to come to our family dinner,” I told her with a sigh as she flashed me a quizzical look. We stepped out of the way when two men rushed to speak with the desk sergeant; then I smiled as I saw Solomon walking towards me, his jaw tense.

“Are you okay?” he asked, coming to a stop and reaching to hold my shoulders. He gave me a long, assessing look.

“I’m okay,” I replied.

“Mrs. Gra—” started Diana.

“Lexi,” I interrupted. “The rest is a mouthful.”

“Lexi,” she confirmed, “is free to go. I anticipate follow-up questions might be asked and I’d like to be present for any interviews as I’ve informed the detectives and Special Agent Maddox, just now. Until then, have a good evening and be sure to call 911 if you witness anything unusual in the future.”

We shook hands and Diana left the police station.

“You’re really okay?” said Solomon, enveloping me in a bear hug.

“Can’t. Breathe,” I gasped against his chest. He relaxed the pressure, looking down at me, searching for any indication of trauma. “There’s a smidge of blood on your neck under your right ear and you smell like dog. You don’t look terrified so that’s good. Did you traumatize the arresting officers?”

“No, but my brothers probably will. And my uncles and my aunts. Maybe my cousins too.”

“Those poor men,” said Solomon. “And that’s where my sympathy ends. Let’s go.”

I slipped my hand in his and we walked out into the cool night air, leaving the hubbub of the station behind us. As soon as we stepped onto the sidewalk, a blonde woman in a blue wool coat approached us.

“Lexi Graves?” she asked.

“No,” said Solomon.

The woman glanced at him, then back at me. “Yes, you are. I saw your photo online. Don’t be alarmed. I’m not about to question you or serve papers or anything like that. My name is Abigail Swanson. I’m Tiffany Rose’s agent and I want to hire you to find her.”

Chapter Five

“Why do you want to hire me?” I asked. The three of us were seated in a small diner a block away from the police station. It was a popular hangout for police officers to take their breaks, which was why seven uniformed men and women sat at the bar, sipping coffees and eating dinner. Not one of them showed any interest in us. I still hadn’t changed my sweater but I took a few minutes to clean up in the restroom. The woman who approached us didn’t seem at all fazed by my appearance but then, I figured I didn’t look nearly as bad as Lily did.

“Isn’t it obvious?” she asked.

“We’re private investigators and it’s our job?” I suggested after a glance at Solomon. His face remained unreadable, so I continued my appraisal of Abigail Swanson. She loosened the belt of her coat and unbuttoned it, but did not remove it. Underneath she wore a white polo neck and blue slacks, just a shade darker than her coat. Big, gold earrings hung from her lobes and she wore wedding and engagement bands. Her purse, perched on the bench alongside her, was also very nice. She smelled good too; every so often I caught the scent of fresh roses.

“That, and because the moment you accurately deemed Tiffany was under threat, you tracked down her address, and went over there to help her. That was fast thinking. You demonstrated the right kind of skills when you managed to find her location under such pressure and you impressed me. So… you’ll take the case?” she asked, although I wasn’t sure if it were actually a question.

“The police are already on it and the FBI might be involved too,” said Solomon. His hands were wrapped around a plain mug of steaming coffee but he’d yet to take a sip. I wondered if his hands were welded to the cup.

“I should think so,” said Abigail, “but have any of them contacted me? No!”

“Did you make yourself known to the police?” I asked.

“My representation of Tiffany is splashed all over the internet. Plus, I left my card with the desk sergeant who assured me someone would be in touch shortly.” She rolled her eyes skywards, illustrating her disbelief. I made a mental note to tell Garrett, assuming Solomon hadn’t already.

“How did you know about me? Or even where to find me?” I inquired.

“Someone recognized you and posted who you were on Tiffany’s live feed. I just happened to see the comment, which I found extremely fortuitous, and you can be assured that it probably disappeared amongst hundreds of other less interesting missives. I did a little digging into your background, then added some guesswork as to the best place to find you, and here we are! It’s vital that my client be found safely and quickly. So?”

Solomon and I looked at each other. “You’ll need to fill out some paperwork and we’ll consider the merits of the case before we decide if we can help you,” said Solomon. “But I agree: time is of the essence here.”

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