Rachel's work phone rang. It hardly ever rang, because only coworkers ever called her on that line, other investigators who needed her expertise in following money down the rabbit holes of shell companies and properties for their clients. The clients rarely wanted to talk to her.
She picked up. "This is Rachel Mackenzie."
"Hello, Rachel."
The voice on the other end of the line was unfamiliar. "Hello?" she asked.
"I guess you don't recognize me. This is Omar."
"Omar?" She couldn't make the connection at first. Then, "Omar! Wait, why are you on my work line?"
"Because I asked to be transferred to you."
She couldn't speak for a moment, she was so stunned. "I don't understand. Why are you calling me? And why at my work?"
"When you and your friend Lauren mentioned on Saturday that you work at Justiciar, a private investigation firm, I decided to look you up and give you a call."
They had mentioned it to him, after they'd all gotten over the shock of learning Harpreet and Logan had been holding hands under the table, and that Naomi had been furious about it. Rachel still worried that nothing good was going to come of the situation, regardless of the talk she'd had with Logan on Sunday; the boy had sat hunched into himself the entire time Rachel had been talking, and she feared he'd absorbed nothing of what she'd said.
She asked, "Are you in need of the firm's services? If so, you should talk to Lauren, she's here today." Today Lauren was here. Yesterday she was at the library, fucking Rachel's husband. Maybe Joe would get a call from Rachel soon, because the score sheet was getting out of balance, and Joe could fill any empty space Al left, and then some.
"I am in need of your firm's services, but before I sat down and talked to someone officially, I thought I'd call you first and catch up."
She cleared her throat and said, "Does your fiancee know you're calling me?"
He chuckled sheepishly and said, "I'm afraid we're not in the same room. I'm at the hospital, in fact, on a short break, and the business I have to discuss is confidential, so Fatima shouldn't hear about it anyway."
"I like Fatima, you know. Did she tell you about the sting operation she did off the books, helping Joanie and us stop a stalker?"
"She did, actually. I heard the stalker was shot and killed trying to force his way into Joanie's house, and that the shooter wasn't Joanie herself, but one of two other men who'd also forced their way into her house for another purpose."
"That's right. It was awful. They were hired hitmen, there to force Joanie into revealing the whereabouts of Agnes... actually it was Agnes' house they were in... shoot, you know what, none of us introduced her, that was rude of us. She was the Asian woman with the boy and girl sitting on the other side of the table from Lauren and me, the one who said she was Al's coworker."
Omar chuckled tenderly. "Ah, Rachel, you were probably too stunned to see me after all these years to remember to introduce me to everyone at the table."
"Fun fact, my husband and I both had old flames at the table. You were mine, and Agnes was Al's."
"Really?" he said, surprised. "At least with you, you never expected to see me. Agnes must have been an invited guest."
"Well, yes, she was, because she and Joanie are close. It's a long story, too long to tell when you're on a break and you want to talk to Lauren."
"Rachel, if I didn't know any better I'd think you were trying to get rid of me."
"Omar," she said, sighing, "come on. It's obviously me you want to talk to, and I think Fatima should be very worried right now."
He burst out laughing. "Someone's full of themselves, aren't they. Besides, you're also married, so what's the worry?"
She barked a laugh. "In my circle that isn't the guarantee against impropriety that it is in yours."
He was silent a moment, then said, "What is it you're saying, Rachel?"
"Never mind. What matters is you're engaged to Fatima, and I'm married to Al, and I think that's best for everybody all around. In fact, I would have been happy never seeing you again, Omar. You hurt me, and I know now it was probably never going to last anyway, but the way you cut me out really hurt."
To his credit, he said, "I'm very sorry, Rachel. I wanted to stay with you, you know. It's just that I had very little choice in the matter. I was only eighteen and still firmly under my parents' thumb. If I wanted an education, I had to get it on their terms, and unfortunately that meant moving far away from you."
She sighed in resignation and said, "Water under the bridge now. I'm glad I got a chance to tell you, anyway."
"Me too. Are you..." He paused, as if he were bracing himself to say what he said next. "Are you happy with Al?"
Now, there was a loaded question. What was it to be happy with a man who was sleeping with other women while you were sleeping with other men and women? What did their relationship amount to? When she first got together with Al, it never occurred to her that she would be sharing him within a few years, although he'd unknowingly begun sharing her almost right from the start. Their wedding vows had been their own, but the idea of forsaking all others had certainly been one of the themes. If both of them were allowing the other to not forsake, was it still a marriage? She knew she loved him, and she was certain he loved her, and that he loved her more than Lauren or Agnes, although she'd never asked him to declare it. She supposed her only gauge of her primary place in his heart was that they shared a house, a bank account, and care of two adopted teenagers, one of whom might soon be courting a girl who was still a minor...
"Rachel?" Omar asked. "Are you still there?"
She'd taken too long to respond. "Yes," she said.
"Yes you're still there, or yes, you're happy with Al?"
"Both."
"Hm. That wasn't very convincing."
"Sorry, I was off in space before."
"Was I boring you that much?"
She laughed in spite of herself. "It wasn't that. So, Fatima will be your second wife. I'm on my second marriage myself."
"Is that right? Who were you married to before?"
"A New Westminster Police officer named Mason Chan. He got my friend pregnant, so we divorced."
"Yikes!"
"It was okay. By that time both of us were just phoning it in, anyway. I don't think I ever really loved him, he was just convenient."
"I'm sorry. Is he with this friend of yours, now? Oh, jeez, she wasn't at the table on Saturday, was she?"
"No, no. Actually, he died in a car accident."
"Jesus! I'm sorry."
"Yeah. You know who was there? The woman behind the wheel when the accident happened. She was the hot detective from the New West Police, Maria Goncalves."
"Oh, yes, I think Fatima introduced us."
"Joanie told us you're a widower."
He cleared his throat and said, "Yes. I'm sorry, I don't like to talk about it."
Rachel blinked in surprise. She was being remarkably candid, and here he was holding back, but she said, "I understand. Fatima's a bit younger than you are, is that going to be an issue?"
"We have a lot in common," he said a little defensively. "We share a faith--"
"I don't remember you being very Muslim when we were dating," she interrupted.
He continued as if he hadn't heard her. "And we both want children."
"Oh! Really? Wait, you don't have kids from your previous marriage?"
"No," he said, rather darkly. She wondered if there was a connection between his lack of children and his widower status, but she was afraid to ask.
"Fatima's a cop," she said. "I hope you're not going to make her give up her career to make babies for you."
"We'll make it all work," Omar said, sounding annoyed now. Maybe that was for the best. He had business to discuss with Lauren, and she had to get back to work herself. He added. "We can hire a nanny, you know. I have the resources to do so. But you never know, Fatima could decide, once the baby comes, that she'd rather not go out and risk her life every day, that she'd rather not leave her children without a mother."
Rachel rolled her eyes. "Sure, Omar. That could very well happen. Just, let it be her choice, okay?"
"You know, Rachel, just because I'm Muslim doesn't mean I'm the Taliban. You might want to check your prejudices."
"I didn't say anything about your faith. Men of all faiths, or no faith at all, have the potential to be assholes."
He burst out laughing, and she was glad she'd diffused the tension. "Fair enough," he said. "And yes, it will be her choice. Joanie's inspired her, you know; Fatima looks on her like an older sister, and she's thinking about going the detective route too."
"Well, good for her. So, can I ask you what you'd like to hire us for?"
"Ummm... I think I should hold on until I talk to Lauren, if you don't mind. This might involve you eventually, if you're a forensic accountant, did I get that title right?"
She'd mentioned it the night of the dinner. "Yes. Shady financial dealings?"
"Partly, but it's more complicated than that."
"It always is. Let me put you on hold while I make sure Lauren's free to talk to you, otherwise I'd have to pass you on to Sanderson, and believe me, you'd rather talk to Lauren."
"Fair enough!" he said, laughing. "It was good talking to you, Rachel. Maybe one day we'll meet again. Maybe I'll send you an invitation to the wedding."
"That would be lovely," she said, already planning how to refuse politely. "Good talking to you too, Omar, and I hope we can help you with your case."
"Thanks, Rachel."
She put him on hold and let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. She knocked on Lauren's door and peeked in, finding her doing her iaido exercises again. Having been trained in the sword arts since she was young, Lauren continued the practice when she had a free hour in her office, wearing her aikido gear and using the sword her grandfather had brought home from the war, where he'd fought other Japanese on behalf of Canada even though he'd had more in common with them than with the Canadians who'd eventually interned him and his family. That sword had figured in more than one case the Lawrence Street Detective Club had taken on, and it was still very sharp, so Lauren normally kept it in her office when it wasn't sitting in a police evidence locker until charges were dropped.
She waited at the door for Lauren to notice her; sometimes when she practiced iaido, her focus was so complete that she was almost in a trance, and Rachel had no desire to be within striking range of that sword.
After a minute, she cleared her throat. She didn't want Omar to be on hold for very long.
Finally, Lauren looked up at her and sighed in frustration. "What?"
"You'll never guess who wants to hire us."
Lauren's brow furrowed. "Who?"
"Omar."
Her eyes widened. "Your Omar?"
"Um, I don't think Al would like to hear it put that way, but yes."
"And he wants to hire us."
"Yes, and he's calling while on a break, so I don't think he has a lot of time."
Lauren looked down at her gear and sighed again. "Can't Sanderson talk to him?"
"I implied he should talk to you."
She stared at her for a second before saying, "You nosy girl. You know I'm going to tell you what he wants to hire us for."
Rachel shrugged sheepishly. "Yeah."
"Fine," she said, sighing and sheathing the sword.
Rachel closed the door as Lauren took up her receiver and pressed the button to take Rachel's line. She smiled, feeling rather pleased with herself. If anyone other than her had barged in on Lauren doing her exercises, Lauren would have chased them out with a swipe of her sword. But Lauren could never resist her best friend and lover, just as Rachel could never resist her, and now she was going to find out why Omar was so desperate to hire them. Did it have to do with Fatima? She hoped not; she didn't want to think of her old boyfriend as some creepy guy looking for a reason not to be engaged to her.
What could Omar have possibly gotten into that he'd need an investigator to help get him out?
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Now we come to the funeral. Click on "Continue reading," to get a glimpse in Sunny's head during the ceremony.