Free Command Indecision (Lexi Graves Mysteries) by Camilla Chafer Page A

cuffs .
    "I can cover whatever hours Jillian worked."
    "Great. You can take her desk. We have a guest log-in you can use for the computer. It won't give you access to much, but it's enough for typing. Boring, I know."
    "Not at all. Honestly, it'll keep me busy and I’m very grateful for the opportunity . I wasn't sure what I would do for work when my husband moved here." I practiced “my husband” in the mirror while brushing my teeth and I wasn't sure I was pulling it off as casually as I wanted, but at least, I could pull it off without a nervous giggle now. I hoped Ruth put it down to newlywed nerves, especially as just saying it made me want to pull a face. Instead, I found myself playing with the wedding band. I wondered if I'd ever wear the real thing one day.
    "A lot of the wives have the same problem," said Ruth sympathetically and I looked at her sharply, having momentarily lost the plot of the conversation. Ahh, yes, my cover. "But at least, your husband is working on base, right?" she pressed.
    I nodded. "Where's your husband?" I asked, aiming to keep my tone light as I noticed Ruth toying with her wedding and engagement bands.
    "Iraq," she said. "He's halfway through his tour."
    "Halfway to home," I replied perkily and Ruth smiled, happily this time, while nodding.
    Over the next half hour , Ruth talk ed me through what they did in the office, explaining that even though we were on an Army base, admin was much the same as anywhere else. I wouldn't have access to anything confidential, so I only needed the most basic of security checks. How they'd gotten through overnight I didn't know, but I'd put money on Lucas or Captain McAuley. However, she did remind me to wear my visitor's badge at all times while I was working.
    As I took the sheaf of files that landed on my desk, courtesy of Denise along with a silent-mouthed apology, over to the filing cabinets, I wondered if Solomon was making any progress at the gym.
    Over a strangely companionable breakfast of cereal and fruit, he told me he planned on finding out who Tate's friends were, and, conversely, whether he had any enemies. Solomon's angle was that he might have talked to one of them about any concerns he had, or about what h ad really happened with Jillian before he was arrested. Maybe he even mentioned why he was meeting her while he worked his shift at the gym that day.
    My job ran a similar angle. I was simply to get to know Jillian's co-workers to find out if she'd mentioned any concerns or worries, especially about Tate, and to see if anything was missing from the office, anything that could have been used as a murder weapon. Per our discussion, i f we knew what we were looking for, we might have a better chance of finding it. Privately, I wasn't too hopeful. If I'd just murdered someone, I'd destroy or dispose of the murder weapon as fast as possible; and ten days was a cold lag where it could have ended up in a dumpster miles away . That was if we were lucky . We just had to hope that the sudden flurry of activity surrounding Tate's arrest had made things difficult for the real perpetrator, if there even was one. Why Tate was giving everyone the silent treatment still puzzled me. If it were me, I’d be pacing the room like a wildcat, telling anyone who’d listen that the murder had nothing to do with me. I’d demand a lawyer, and tell them anything they wanted to know, just to be let go. They wouldn’t even have to shine a spotlight on me. What I wouldn’t do was refuse to say a thing.
    I plodded through the filing, while listening to the various phone conversations and inter-office talking. The morning alone let me discover quite a few things. For starters, the sick-leave-taking Tammy wasn't well liked in the office because she slac ked off and took too much sick- leave, leaving everyone else to pick up her load. No one added “on top of Jillian’s,” but the unspoken words hovered like a blimp in the air.
    While Ruth was married, Gretchen