Chocolate, Lies, and Murder (Amber Fox Mysteries Book #4) Read online

  Chocolate, Lies, and Murder

  Feisty insurance investigator Amber Fox is finally marrying her boss, Brad Beckett, in seven days. All she has to do before the wedding is get a manicure, a bikini wax, and buy some sexy honeymoon undies. Easy peasy…

  Until glamour model Aleesha starts receiving threatening letters, and Brad’s suddenly hired as her bodyguard. Unfortunately, Aleesha’s definition of guarding her body is different to Amber’s. Especially since Aleesha is Brad’s ex and has her sights set on getting him back.

  And when Brad’s arrested, facing life imprisonment, it looks like the only thing on Amber’s honeymoon itinerary will be conjugal prison visits. Can Amber solve the case and clear Brad’s name? Is Brad as innocent as he claims? Or is this the end for Amber and Brad?

  What critics are saying about the AMBER FOX MYSTERIES:

  "If you like Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum I think you will really like Amber Fox - I know I do." ~ Martha's Bookshelf

  "Amber Fox is a modern, career-driven woman who seems to be a cross between Kinsey Milhone and Gracie Hart (Miss Congeniality). I enjoyed the great mixture of action adventure and slapstick. I found myself chuckling out loud and on one occasion snorting water out my nose." ~ Coffee Time Romance & More

  "Amber Fox was hilarious with her tough as nails outer persona and her hysterical one-liners that were frequently laugh out loud funny. I definately recommend picking this book up!!" ~ The Caffeinated Diva reads...

  "Amber Fox is the kind of strong lead female character with a great sarcastic wit that I love to read." ~ To Read, Perchance to Dream

  “If I must die, let it be death by chocolate”

  Chapter 1

  Life was good. For once, I was having no men dramas—I mention “dramas”, plural, because for a long time there’d been two men in my life. Now I’d finally made a decision about them, and I was back with Brad. For good this time. OK, it’s a long story; here’s the short version. Brad was my ex-fiancé, who became my boss, then my fiancé again. Romeo had been my boyfriend in between the Brad saga and was a lovely guy. It’s just that Brad had stopped at nothing to get me back and to be honest, he was my soul mate. See, simple! Or not. Which was why I’d been having said men dramas. But not anymore. I wasn’t stressed about men now and was ecstatically happy with Brad. In fact, we were flying off to Vegas in seven days to get married. Yay! Plus, in my job as an insurance investigator for Hi-Tec Insurance, owned by Brad, no one had tried to kill me lately, which seemed to happen a lot. Somehow, I always seemed to become embroiled in cases where the bad guys wanted to shut me up. I mean, I admit I have a big mouth and I’m not afraid to use it, but the whole kill Amber thing was getting a tad repetitious. And, as an extra bonus, I’d just picked up some rather large slices of mocha choca cake for breakfast. Scrumalicious. Coffee, chocolate, and cake, three of my favourite things all rolled into one. So, actually, life wasn’t just good, it was pretty much perfect.

  I wandered through the front doors of the plush Hi-Tec Insurance office with a happy smile, humming to myself as I walked past the empty reception and salivating at the prospect of the cake. All I had to do this week before we got married was tie up some loose ends on the case files I’d been working, buy some sexy undies for the wedding night, have a bikini wax, and get a manicure. Easy peasy. I was thinking pink glitter (for the manicure, not the bikini wax), or maybe something like Hot Vixen, just because I loved the name on the bottle. I could picture myself being a Hot Vixen on our honeymoon. Elvis and the Chapel of Love took care of the rest of the nuptials, so it was going to be a lovely, relaxing week for once and nothing could possibly go wrong before the big day.

  I was loaded with four slices of cake to share with Tia, the receptionist, and some bizarre, soggy-looking tofu concoctions for Brad and Hacker, who were both into the health food thing.

  I entered the office I shared with Hacker. Tia sat next to him. They both stared at me with a worried expression.

  ‘What? Have I got lipstick on my teeth or something?’ I ran a finger around my mouth. ‘Or is it my hair?’ My curly waves had a mind of their own and often bordered on a scary Krusty the Clown look, although I’d had a trim for the wedding after a nasty incident of hair singeing, so it couldn’t look that bad. Plus I’d poured practically a whole bottle of argan oil conditioning serum over it.

  Hacker and Tia gave each other a sheepish glance before letting out a nervous laugh.

  I eyed them suspiciously, my investigator-ish intuition shifting up a notch. To avoid my gaze, Hacker, the office tech guru, suddenly found his massive bank of computer monitors and electrical equipment very interesting. I’d yet to see a computer system he couldn’t break into. Originally from Haiti, he’d been in the SAS with Brad. He was six foot six and the spitting image of the rapper Snoop Dogg. He had two plaits that stuck up in the air like antennas, a gold front tooth, and a penchant for wearing various gangsta rapper hoodies. Today he wore one that said “Keep Calm and Rap”. His real name was Roderick, but I seriously doubted anyone who’d ever called him that lived to tell the tale. Tia was American and had a heart-shaped face, blonde ringlets, and big blue eyes. But don’t let the ditzy blonde act fool you. She was a tough little thing. Tia liked to dress loud with a capital L. Today she wore a tie-dye maxi dress of psychedelic colours you could see from outer space. She probably made those people who monitored the orbiting satellites reach for their sunglasses. Tia and Hacker had been seeing each other for a while, so maybe I’d just caught them in the middle of a raunchy discussion about their sex life.

  Under my scrutinizing gaze, Tia let out her signature snorty giggle, which sounded like a hyena on crack.

  ‘OK, what’s up with you two?’ I asked, handing out the food.

  They glanced at each other again before saying, ‘Nothing’ in unison.

  ‘Hmm.’ I raised a disbelieving eyebrow and opened up the box of cake. A pre-appreciation dribble came on as I lifted the delicious mixture to my lips. In full drooling mode, I noticed a woman in Brad’s office across the corridor.

  My hand froze mere millimetres from my face as I took in the scene through the glass window. The woman sat on his desk, facing Brad and away from us. Yes, actually on his desk. And if that wasn’t a bit too familiar for my liking, her face was up close to his ear. She whispered something before tossing her long, highlighted hair over her shoulder and giggling. Then she reached out, ran her fingers along the side of his neck, and walked them down his chest. The touch was not in an ‘I’m just a friend’ way, either. Oh, no. This little stroke was more of an ‘I want to get you into bed’ kind of way. Through Brad’s slightly open door, I could hear their murmured voices but couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  My appetite vanished. A hot, bubbling sensation erupted in my stomach. I think I might’ve even let out a growl.

  I put the cake back on my desk. Now I knew what Tia and Hacker had been staring at when I came in, and it wasn’t me. It was that…that woman behind me.

  ‘OK, spill,’ I whispered to them. ‘Who’s that? And why’s she practically molesting Brad?’ I jerked my head in the direction of Brad’s office.

  ‘Er…’ Tia’s eyes widened, looking like she was panicking about giving me some potentially bad news.

  ‘Spit it out,’ I said.

  ‘It’s Aleesha,’ Hacker said.

  I frowned. The name wasn’t ringing any clangers. ‘Aleesha who?’

  He shrugged. ‘You know, that glamour model. She just calls herself “Aleesha”.’

  My eyes narrowed as I glanced back at the woman, who now fondled Brad’s ear. My temperature
shot up a few degrees in recognition. ‘That slutty woman who’s always in the paper for wearing skirts that could double as belts, and getting out of cabs flashing off the fact she’s wearing no knickers?’ My mouth contracted into a thin line.

  ‘That’s the one.’ Tia pulled a worried face.

  ‘And what’s she doing with Brad?’ I asked, although maybe I already knew the answer. By the look of things, she’d have her man-hungry claws into him quicker than I could say ‘trailer trash’. She’d had more husbands and fiancés than I’d had junk food, which was saying something. Every week she was plastered over the tabloids and celebrity magazines with a new man, or because of some drunken exploit, or she’d decided to dish the dirt on an ex.

  ‘She’s a client.’ Tia nibbled on the edge of her cake.

  ‘What’s she got insured with us? Her double FFs?’ I spat out.

  ‘She’s also Brad’s ex-girlfriend,’ Hacker said.

  My jaw flew open. ‘What? When? I didn’t know about that.’ Ew. The thought of them together was just ick.

  ‘It was about a year ago, when you’d broken up.’ Hacker tucked into his tofu mess to avoid my searing gaze. ‘It didn’t last long,’ he added, as if that was supposed to make me feel better somehow.

  Tia leaned in towards me. ‘Apparently, someone’s stalking her, and she wants Brad to look into it for her.’

  I exhaled loud enough to be heard in Russia. ‘This is an insurance company. What’s stalking got to do with insurance?’ I asked, more to myself than anyone. ‘Nothing.’ I answered myself, too.

  ‘Well, she’s got life insurance with us.’ Tia shrugged. ‘Maybe he’s looking into it as a favour to her. Since they used to date and stuff.’

  I glared at Brad and Aleesha again. I couldn’t see her hand now. Where the hell was it?

  Brad looked up at that moment, his grey-blue eyes widening as he registered my look of disapproval. Or maybe it was because my face had probably turned an angry shade of Hot Vixen red like I was about to have a stroke. He shook his head slightly at me, and I could feel another growl coming on.

  I wasn’t usually a jealous kind of girl. No, seriously. OK, maybe just a smidgen. It’s just that Aleesha was…well, how can I put it politely…a slapper. One of her specialties was being a home-wrecker, splitting up couples and then dumping the men when she got bored of them and moving onto the next one. What if she thought she had unfinished business with Brad? What if she wanted to get him back? What if—

  Uh oh. The ‘what ifs’ are starting again!

  I was queen of ‘what ifs’. It was part of the problem why it had taken me so long to get back with Brad the second time around. Yes, I admit it; I had a neurotic side, too. Well, I am only human.

  ‘Amber, can you come into my office, please,’ Brad called out to me.

  I took a deep breath, plastered a smile on my face, and walked across the hallway. Knowing what a self-centered woman Aleesha was, no way I was going to let her see she was bothering me. Nuh-uh.

  I pushed the door open wider and leaned against the frame, looking to see where her hand was.

  Brad lifted her hand from somewhere under the table and stood up. ‘Aleesha, I’d like you to meet Amber, my investigator. She’s very qualified to help sort this matter out for you.’

  Investigator? Hello! And your fiancée!

  Aleesha rose from the desk and positioned herself next to Brad, eyeing me like a potential challenge, draping one arm possessively round his shoulder.

  Get off his shoulder! That’s my shoulder.

  Before I could say something, Brad removed her arm. A slight frown of what I took to be distaste appeared on his otherwise usual poker face.

  Aleesha changed her hair colour like the weather. This week it was chocolate brown with caramel streaks. She had enough makeup on to keep L’Oréal in business for a whole year, pouty lip implants, and fake nails. In fact, most of her was fake, including the boobs. Nothing that defied the laws of gravity like that could possibly be real. Still, at least if she was ever drowning at sea, they’d provide an excellent buoyancy aid. Not that I was feeling inferior in the boobage area, you understand. I mean, I have a nice pair of C Cups, and anything more than a handful is a waste, quite honestly.

  I fantasized that maybe she was really wearing a wig and was completely bald underneath all that hair, but that was just wishful thinking. The hair was probably one of the few parts that were real. Her long legs were practically skinnier than my arms, and in her shrink-wrapped leather trousers, she didn’t just have a camel toe going on, she had the whole hoof. She wore a skin-tight turquoise sun top, despite the freezing UK day. Good luck getting that gear off in a hurry. On her wrist, a gold bracelet with a charm of the Eiffel Tower and a camera swung around as she stroked Brad’s shoulder.

  I folded my arms, and my fake smile got wider. ‘And what can I do for you both today?’ Bother me? Nah. OK, OK, maybe just a smidgen.

  ‘Aleesha has a bit of a problem that she wants us to sort out.’ Brad sat down again.

  I raised an eyebrow. Really? Only one?

  Aleesha sat down in the chair opposite Brad, crossing one leg over the other and making her trousers squeak. Or maybe it was her hoof.

  I perched on the edge of Brad’s desk in front of her, staking my claim to it. My fiancé. My desk. Got that?

  ‘What sort of problem?’ I asked Brad through a sweet smile.

  ‘I’m being stalked, and I want it to stop,’ Aleesha’s screechy accent made me wince. Think cockney meets a five-year-old after inhaling a helium balloon and you’ll get the picture.

  ‘Do you know who’s stalking you?’ I asked, wondering why this was a job for Hi-Tec or Brad.

  ‘Well, there’s this weirdo who was sending me things a while ago and turning up outside my house and at modelling jobs. I think it’s the same guy sending me more stuff now.’

  ‘So why not just tell the police and get them to deal with it?’ I asked.

  ‘They did deal with it. Before. This nutter has a restraining order on him. It went to court and everything. He stopped for a while, but he’s started again.’

  ‘If it’s happened before, why can’t you get him arrested and go back to court?’ I shrugged, not wanting to get tied up with this drama queen on what was supposed to be a relaxing pre-wedding week.

  ‘He’s denying he’s done anything this time.’ She ran a hand through her hair and pouted. ‘And I can’t prove it’s him yet. The police said they need evidence he’s at it again before they’ll do something. I need someone to catch him in the act so I can get him banged up for harassment where he belongs.’

  ‘Aleesha is scared for her safety,’ Brad drawled in his Australian twang. ‘She wants me to act as a bodyguard until we catch her stalker.’

  My head flew round to Brad so fast I thought it might snap off. ‘Bodyguard?’

  He nodded coolly. ‘Aleesha feels that she needs twenty-four hour protection in case he takes things further and tries to attack her.’

  Aleesha twirled her hair round a finger and gave Brad a lusty smile.

  Yeah, and I bet that’s not all she wants.

  I suppressed another growl. At least I think I did. A little bit might’ve slipped out. ‘What’s your stalker sending you?’

  ‘Chocolate knickers.’

  ‘That’s not so bad. I mean, chocolate is a girl’s best friend, and you can never have enough pairs of knickers.’ Unless you were Aleesha, of course, who obviously had underwear Alzheimer’s and frequently forgot to put them on when there were cameras around.

  ‘I like going commando myself.’ She smirked.

  ‘I hadn’t noticed.’ I oozed sarcasm.

  ‘Really? It was in The Sun and Celebrity magazine the last time,’ she said proudly. ‘I bet Brad remembers, don’t you?’ She winked at him.

  I glanced at Brad, whose face didn’t give anything away this time. He wasn’t an SAS guy for nothing. Some of the worst people on the planet had interrogated and tortured
him, and he never talked. Not that I wanted to know anything about their yucky past relationship. As long as it was in the past. I’m sure Aleesha would have no qualms about spilling the beans, though. She was the expert of kiss and tell.

  ‘Anyway, it’s sick,’ she carried on. ‘Who knows what he’ll do next. Some celebrities have been killed by their stalkers before, and I don’t want it to happen to me. I want him stopped and locked up in the psycho wing before he kills me.’ She sat forward and something squeaked again. ‘I’m scared,’ she whispered, a slight frown of panic forming on her forehead. I say slight, because I don’t think the Botox would allow more.

  I eyed her suspiciously. OK, maybe I was letting jealousy cloud my judgement of her. Maybe she was a really, really, nice girl. From what I’d heard and seen of her, I seriously doubted it, but no one deserved to be stalked, and what if this guy did go further than sending chocolate knickers?

  ‘Who’s the guy that did this before then?’ I asked.

  ‘His name’s Doctor Spork,’ she said.

  I burst out laughing. Sorry, couldn’t help it. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘He changed his name by deed poll. He thinks he’s from planet Spork and says he gets cosmic messages that we’re meant to be together.’ She sighed. ‘He says the Sporkites tell him that I’m really in love with him.’

  ‘Right.’ I nodded knowingly. ‘I’ve heard those Sporkites have good taste.’

  She did the slight frown again, as if trying to work out if that was a real compliment or not.

  ‘Maybe you’d better start at the beginning,’ Brad said to Aleesha.

  ‘About a year ago, Dr Spork started sending me the knickers with these freaky love notes. He’d turn up everywhere when I was doing a modelling job or at my house, with more knickers and stuff. Eventually, the police arrested him, and I went to court to get a restraining order to keep him away from me. The court made him get some psychiatric help and granted the order. He’s not allowed anywhere near me.’ She ran her tongue over her fake glossy lips. ‘After that, I didn’t hear anything from him until a week ago, when I started getting the chocolate knickers sent to me again.’