Page 20 of Gem Warfare

“We are. There’s nothing we can do and we haven’t been officially hired. For that matter, we haven’t even accepted the case. So we’re going home. We have stuff to do.”

“Oh.Oh!” Mom’s wink was exaggerated and I wasn’t dignifying that with any further comment. Instead, I took Solomon’s hand and headed down the street to the car.

“Do I want to know why your mother winked at you like she was having a stroke and couldn’t control her features anymore?” Solomon asked as we got into the car.

“You do not.”

“I thought not. It’s kind of a turnoff.”

“You said you didn’t want to know! See what happens when you think about it!” I threw my hands in the air, exasperated. So much for baby-making if one half of the team was in a timeout thanks to my mom.

“I’ll be in the mood by the time we get home.” Solomon smiled.

“How?” I wasn’t sure I’d be in the mood again this decade.

“I’m a man.”

“Then drive and prove it.”

“Prove I’m a man?” Solomon glanced at me, as if he wanted to know if I genuinely expected him to do such a thing. I didn’t. I knew he was a man. He’d proved it sufficiently. As for the promised enthusiasm? I was eager to see that evidenced.

“Don’t be pedantic,” I said and pointed ahead, away from the flashing police lights, the corpse, and most importantly, my mom. “Let’s go!”

~

I yawned a near jaw-disengaging yawn and reached for thecoffee Delgado had plonked on my desk only moments ago. “Late night?” he asked, eyeing me warily.

“Something like that,” I said, and yawned again before I could even put the mug to my lips. After an enthusiastic evening where Solomon had definitely been the man, I’d subsequently had a poor sleep, amid constant thoughts of corpses and jewels whirring in my mind. Then there was the boy staring into the camera. Who was he?

I’d given up on sleep around five AM and lay there, wishing for the day to start, which just went to show how out of sorts I felt.

“Cranky?” asked Delgado.

“Nope, just tired.”

Now it was almost nine, and Solomon had been called out only minutes after arriving at the agency, leaving me alone with Delgado, and an assortment of tasks to research.

Behind me, the door crashed open and I glanced over my shoulder to see my fellow PIs, Steve Fletcher and Matt Flaherty, walk in, carrying brown paper bags that emitted a tantalizing scent.

“Why do you both look so pleased?” I asked.

“We got bacon sandwiches to go,” said Fletcher.

“And the counter girl flirted with me,” said Flaherty.

“She asked if you wanted sugar for your coffee.”

“She said I was sweet already.” Flaherty’s smugness increased.

“She gave you the check,” said Fletcher.

“She did itflirtatiously,” said Flaherty. “She looked me dead in the eye as she slid it towards me. I’ve still got it.” He flexed his biceps.

“The receipt?” I asked.

“No.It.” He pumped his arms again.

“Where’s the boss?” asked Fletcher.

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