Official Town Business (Fox & Oakby Murder Mysteries Book I)

Ka-Boom!

"Imogen, are you really here about the investigation?"

Imogen looked at Andrew over her shoulder, her arms lifted, her coat an inch away from a hook on the wall.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, you are here. It's late. And I'd thought you'd be with... him right now."

Andrew seemed uneasy, and his voice dropped. Imogen couldn't help but feel affected by the velvet cadence of it. Apparently being with one man had made her aware of the details about others. She'd known of course that her childhood friend had a pleasant voice and she'd always admired his clear and melodic pronunciation. It's just that the category of 'sexy' hadn't existed in Imogen's thinking before - and now it did.

"I am here for the investigation!" Imogen answered, making an effort to stop listening to the rumbling undertones.

"OK," he said - clearly unconvinced.

He then bit into his bottom lip, in his usual habit, and nodded.

"Andrew, I have new information!" Imogen squeaked.

"Yeah, sure."

She could see the corners of his lips twitch. He then stepped to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. That was their habitual gesture - but why did she suddenly notice the fresh smell of his cologne, and the warmth she could feel through his shirt?

"Let's have some pizza first, alright?" he said, and Imogen nodded.

They sat in front of each other at his kitchen table, and he leaned across the tiny room, to the counter, and turned on the electrical kettle. He had wide shoulders, long arms - and the collar of his shirt shifted showing his collarbone. For some reason that flustered her.

"So, I was at the Headmistress' place—" she started, gathering her wits.

"Have a slice," he said, and Imogen rebelled.

"Andrew, you need to listen to me! It's important."

"I always listen to you, Imogen," he said with a chuckle. "I also know you need to eat, or you'll get jitters."

"I've had dinner," she grumbled, but took a slice nonetheless.

"Are Brian and Kathy there?" Andrew asked.

"Yeah, they're with Mrs. Lewis, the housekeeper."

"Oh?" Andrew studied his pizza as if it were some fascinating piece of evidence. "So, where's Oakby then? In the hospital?"

Imogen tensed.

"That doesn't matter, does it, Andrew?" she muttered. "Mr. Oakby has nothing to do with what I came to tell you about!"

"I can't pretend I'm unhappy about it," Andrew said. 

He threw his slice back into the box and leaned back in the chair.

"Andrew, can we not— make this about the personal stuff?!" Imogen exclaimed. "We sound like characters in a bad film! My relationship with the Mayor have nothing to do with me being here."

"Well, clearly it doesn't," Andrew quipped. "You are here, with your new information. You didn't go to him with it."

"You are a policeman!" Imogen herself knew how weak her argument was.

She hadn't gone to the Mayor because he'd dismissed her. She was hurt. It was her fault really - she'd been daft enough to mix her professional life with her private affairs. And then she thought that she was no better than the man in question - just as him she'd locked herself up and hadn't shared her suspicions with him.