Catching a Man Read online

  Kadin waved her hand in Olivan’s face, knowing the conversation would continue for at least half an hour if she didn’t intervene. “Are we still going for a drink?”

  “We’d better be.” Trinithy reached up and pulled a white cardigan off the hook to the left of her switchboard. “I’ve had the most trying day.”

  “I would apologize for my tardiness, but I assure you it is to good purpose.” Olivan gestured toward the pile of folders that he carried in his hand. “In here, I have the confidential personnel files of everyone that Kadin will be working with come tomorrow, as well as that of at least one eligible bachelor in the ranks of this great company’s detectives.”

  “Ooh.” Trinithy’s mouth formed a perfect O as she reached for the files.

  Olivan held them up out of her reach. “These are for Kadin. I seem to recall you telling us not long ago that you did not need assistance in finding men because you had a constant stream of potential suitors from both your mother and your married older sister.”

  “No, I said that I wasn’t going to bother taking an entire course on how to be a detective’s aide when I had other avenues of finding potential husbands.” Trinithy stood up but did not try to reach for the documents again. She shrugged on her sweater and straightened the pink flower on the shoulder. “At no point did I say that I had any intention of ignoring potential matches in the workplace.”

  “You get first choice of these, K.” Olivan took Kadin’s elbow and helped her to her feet, and Kadin reached to grab her fitted green jacket. “Trinithy is only allowed to come if she swears not to approach any of these men until you have already rejected a proposal of marriage and/or dinner. Which you won’t want to do, because I would never foist someone ugly upon you.”

  “If you idlers are planning to skive off work like the delinquents you are, can you hurry up and do it so that the rest of us can perform our job functions?” A strident voice spoke up from two switchboards over.

  They all turned to look at the olive-skinned brunette in a high-necked green and brown plaid dress, who had contorted her face into an expression of such loathing that Kadin suspected it had to be uncomfortable.

  “Aw, Les, do you need me to find you a husband too?” Olivan ran his finger along the burgundy velvet lapel of his otherwise brown drape jacket. “I am sure I could come up with someone desperate enough. Trin, what was the name of that guy in missing persons? You know, the one with the harelip?”

  Leslina Wolfsbane sniffed with such vigor that Kadin could see her nose hairs. “I can assure you, if I spent as much time as any of you trying to improve my appearance, I could certainly have managed to catch a husband by now.”

  Trinithy twirled on her flannel-accented pump, causing her full, knee-length skirt to puff out even further. “Well, Leslina, if I put as much time and energy into my career as you did, I definitely would not have lost out on the job to Kadin.”

  Kadin dropped her eyes to the buttoned top she wore over a matching skirt that tapered at the knee. She and Leslina had both applied to work as Caison Fellows’s aide, but he had offered Kadin the position. Only a few months before that, Kadin had scored higher on the detective’s exam than Leslina. But the woman had hated Kadin since they started working at the call center within a week of each other three years ago, and Kadin had no idea why.

  “Oh, I’m over that.” Leslina addressed her words to Trinithy, but she directed her glare at Kadin. “Everyone knows that Caison Fellows hires the biggest sub-D who applies for the position.”

  Kadin didn’t want to engage her, but she knew Olivan and Trinithy would give her grief if she let Leslina put her down like that.

  “Then it’s a wonder he didn’t choose you, Leslina.” Kadin’s heart pounded inside her chest. “But I guess even the promise of extra favors wasn’t enough to put up with you every day.”

  Leslina rammed a cord into the home jack of her switchboard. “You’re so stupid, Kadin Stone. But you go off and enjoy being a glorified java girl for the menfolk. There’s an aide position coming up in robbery that has my name written all over it. One that requires actual detective skills.”

  “Ignore her, K.” Trinithy picked up her box purse with jeweled partridges on the side and slung it over her shoulder. “Caison Fellows’s last aide got married six months after he hired her.”

  “I charted the wedding rate.” Ollie swept past Leslina as they headed for the door. “Overall, the female aides in the homicide department have the highest rate of attrition due to nuptials, and within the last 20 years, only two of Fellows’s aides left his employment without a wedding planned. I’ll show you the graphs when we get to the restaurant. Where are we going anyway?”

  Kadin pushed the button to call the lift and put on her coat. “How about that new place on the corner of Candlewick and Drawing? We haven’t gone there yet.”

  “I don’t know.” Trinithy swung her purse. “Do they have a jukebox with a decent selection?”

  The steel lift doors opened, and Kadin stepped inside. “I’m sure it’s as good as any other.”

  “It’d better be, because I want to dance.” Trinithy pushed the button for the ground floor. “You’ll dance with me, won’t you, Ollie?”

  Olivan rose on the toes of his thick-soled creepers, showing off the suede tops in the exact color of the trim on his jacket. “Well, you’re about a foot too short and the wrong gender to be my type.”

  Trinithy picked at her diamond-shaped “Queen Callista” neckline, as if her bulging cleavage would do anything to persuade Olivan. “Oh, you sideways boys! I don’t want you to marry me, just dance with me. And I promise if any eligible boys come along, I’ll let you go. Mostly because I plan to steal them for myself.”

  Olivan stuck the hand that wasn’t carrying file folders into a velvet-lined pocket. “You think you can steal boys from me, Trinithy Gold? All right. It is on.”

  Kadin sighed as the lift dinged and the doors began to open. “So we are going to the new place? Hatpin’s, I think it’s called.”

  Olivan held the door so that the women could exit. “Might as well. I hope they stock the good whiskey.”

  Cool autumn wind ruffled Kadin’s hair as she stepped out onto Candlewick Avenue, the main thoroughfare of the Business District. The most commercial of Valeriel City’s six districts held the headquarters of the most distinguished companies in the city, as well as those, like Valeriel Investigations, that were still working toward distinguished. Kadin stuck her hands in her pocket and pulled her arms in close to herself, wondering if the season grew late enough that she should consider wearing her shapeless woolen coat. She shuddered, thinking of the likelihood of attracting a man in that getup.

  “Cold, K?” Olivan wrapped an arm around her shoulder, seeming, as ever, oblivious to the elements. She glanced down and beheld a goosebump-less ring of skin between the bottoms of his drainpipe pants and green socks.

  Kadin ducked out from under Olivan’s arm. She couldn’t have any eligible men they might pass thinking she had an attachment.

  Honking autocars lumbered past them down the street, leaving the scent of gasoline in their wakes. Trinithy ogled a sleek red and white model with a thick hood and a tapering trunk.

  “I’ve been trying to get my daddy to buy an autocar like that, but he says I’ll have to find a rich husband.” She stuck out her lower lip and kicked a rock on the sidewalk. “Like I haven’t been trying. I need—” She let out a squeal and grabbed Kadin’s hand to drag her over to the closest wide-paned window set in the wall of red brick storefronts. “Look! They have air conditioners!”

  Kadin recognized the display at Hasten’s Electronics, whose offerings were always the best and most up-to-date—and the most expensive. Kadin couldn’t even afford one of their transistor radios. Alongside the clunky, slat-covered grey window unit Trinithy admired stood
a dishwasher, half open to show off both its shiny pink front and optimally-arranged wire drawers, and a black-and-white television in a mahogany case with five shiny gold knobs next to the screen.

  “Who wants an air conditioner in this weather?” Olivan squinted to peer past the display.

  “It’s not about the temperature. It’s about having one.” Trinithy pressed her nose against the glass, steaming up the window with her breath. “When I get married, my husband is going to buy me an air conditioner and a dishwasher and a vacuum cleaner and…” She pulled away from the window and pursed her lips. “Come on, K. Aren’t you even a little bit excited?”

  Kadin watched the fuzzy footage on the television—Queen Callista on the arm of some noble Kadin didn’t recognize. “I don’t know, Trin. It’s hard to get excited about cleaning. Though, I suppose Octavira couldn’t make me wash nearly as many dishes if we had a dishwasher.”

  “Another advantage to getting married—no more Octavira! Or, at least, only on special occasions.” Trinithy had disliked Kadin’s sister-in-law since Octavira had made disparaging comments about Trinithy’s flirtatious behavior at the Stone’s barbecue last year. Trinithy had then accidentally-on-purpose spilled marinara sauce all over Octavira’s white dress. Kadin had spent the next week listening to the two women complain about each other, and Octavira had blacklisted Trinithy from any future events at her home.

  The blonde hooked her elbow in Kadin’s and skipped down the street. “We’re lucky, K. We’re young and beautiful in this modern age. The world is our oyster.” She wrinkled her snub nose. “Or maybe something less slimy.”

  “I don’t know.” Olivan sauntered along beside them. “In another twenty years, everyone will have a television and a dishwasher. Do you think we’ll be too old to appreciate it?”

  Kadin tried to imagine herself twenty years in the future and came up blank. Trinithy liked to imagine her life as a housewife, but Kadin hadn’t thought much past getting married. She supposed she’d have children, and they’d be almost grown—sons looking to get jobs or go to college, and daughters looking for husbands of their own. But, then, if times changed enough that everyone could have the things that today seemed like luxuries, what else might be different?

  Trinithy waved a dismissive hand. “I will never be too old to appreciate a dishwasher.”

  “Hey, we’re here.” Ollie stopped and pulled open the door to Hatpin’s Bar. Trinithy ducked under his arm to enter, and Kadin followed.

  Kadin’s navy and white heels clacked to the beat of the Dawban Steel song ringing from the juke box as she moved across the room. Young professionals bellied up to the bar or sat at circular tables peppered throughout the dark space. Cigarette smoke and casual laughter filled the air. Kadin and her friends headed straight for the patch of bar in front of the bartender, who stood in front of a wall-length, gold-rimmed mirror with wooden shelves full of exotic liquor bottles on either side.

  “What can I get you?” The man reached over his head and pulled down three glasses.

  Trinithy giggled, her eyes on the tight white T-shirt that showed off his muscled chest. “Gin Rickey, emphasis on the ‘gin.’”

  Kadin ran her fingers along the bar. “Dirty martini.”

  “Whiskey sour. With the Oriole whiskey. None of that crap from Barring.” Olivan pulled out his wallet. “First round’s on me, ladies. In honor of Kadin’s last day.”

  Trinithy threw her arms around him. “If only I could get rightways boys to buy me drinks so easily.”

  Kadin felt the heat rise to her cheeks at Trinithy’s overreaction. Olivan frequently bought them drinks, but generosity had little to do with it. Society did not look keenly on men—even sideways ones—who made women pay for drinks. “Thanks, Ollie.”

  The bartender stuck a wedge of lime on Trinithy’s glass and plopped a cherry into Olivan’s, then slid all three across the bar.

  Olivan threw a bill on the bar. “Keep the change.” He lifted his glass, and the girls followed suit. The condensation from the glass dribbled down Kadin’s thumb as they crossed the smoky bar to sit at a table in the corner.

  Olivan took a sip of his drink and made an appreciative noise. He set his glass down and pushed it toward the center of the table, pulling his file folders in front of him. “Now, to the business of the day. The homicide department currently has eight members. Kadin will make it nine. Fortunately for K, the others are all male. Unfortunately, some of them are already married. I brought the married guys’ files, too, but I don’t know that you’ll want to see them.”

  Trinithy’s glass clinked as she took a gulp. “Eh, skip ‘em.”

  Olivan raised his eyebrows at Kadin as she swallowed and set down her glass. “Maybe just the ones I’ll be working with?” she asked.

  Olivan handed her two files. “Inspector Blaik Warring runs the department and has for the past two years. The only one who has been working for the department longer is your new boss, Detective Caison Fellows. The company offered Fellows the Inspector job, but he didn’t want to take it when he was so close to retirement. Rumor has it that you are the last aide that Fellows ever plans to hire.”

  Kadin opened the first file and saw a click of a strong-featured man with greying black hair and a frown that implied he had better things to than sit for a personnel photograph. She didn’t bother glancing at Fellows’s picture. She had met the balding, older detective when she had interviewed with him.

  “There are a few more, but…” Olivan threw the next few files onto the table in quick succession. “Boring, ancient, ugly, sideways.” He pulled the next file out of the stack more slowly and waved it in front of Kadin. “Feast your eyes, Miss Stone, upon this.”

  He opened the file with a flourish.

  “Ooh.” Trinithy sucked in a breath as she looked at the man in the click. He had dark brown hair parted on the side, piercing blue eyes, and strong, symmetrical features. “Who is that?”

  Olivan grinned. “That, my dear Miss Gold, is the one and only Dahran White. Full homicide detective at only 28 years old and a rising star in the company. But he knows that he’s not going to get much higher without setting down some roots in the community, and for that he will need to find a nice girl to settle down with. And who is nicer than our Kadin?”

  “I could be very nice to him.” Trinithy licked her lips.

  Kadin felt an uncertain twinge in her stomach. White’s smile gave the impression that he took great pride in his ability to make women swoon. “He seems to be an interesting prospect.” She peered at the short stack of folders Olivan hadn’t presented yet. “Anything worth considering there?”

  “The aides in the department. I wouldn’t waste my time with them.” Olivan wrinkled his nose at the files as he handed them over to her. “And a few far less attractive boys from robbery, but you can leave them to Leslina.”

  Kadin took a brief glance at the photos, then set them aside. It’s better than your options in the basement. “All right, you’ve convinced me. So what do you recommend I do to win the heart—or at least the committed interest—of Dahran White?”

  Trinithy elbowed Kadin. “First, make an effort. Seriously, Kadin, for all you’ve dated, you’d think you would be better at it by now. A man will want to hear your sarcasm about the same time the Society of Mages returns to Valeriel. Pretend you’re besotted with him. Laugh at everything he says. Admire everything he’s interested in. And by all the Deity blesses, don’t correct him. You know that’s what lost you what’s-his-name.”

  “Sevuel.” Kadin shuddered at the thought of the last man she had hoped might put a “Mrs.” in front of her name. “But, Trinithy, he said the Assembly had 27 representatives. I couldn’t let that go.”

  Trinithy held up a chastising finger. “There will be plenty of time to worry about how many members are in the Assembly after
you’ve got a ring on your finger.”

  “But everyone knows there are three representatives for each of the eight territories! Three times eight is…” Kadin bowed her head at Trinithy’s disapproving stare. “I guess it’s not that important.”

  Olivan cleared his throat and swiped a piece of paper out of Dahran White’s file. “Should you decide to progress to more advanced tactics than simply not insulting the object of your affections, I have picked up a few details regarding Mr. White’s preferences.”

  Kadin took a sip of her drink and leaned forward. “I’m all ears.”

  Olivan flipped the paper around and pointed to a graph at the top. “First, according to the questionnaire that I may or may not have included as part of his employment paperwork, the first thing Dahran White notices about a woman is her legs. So keep wearing the tight skirts, and consider upping the height of those heels by at least two inches.”

  Kadin glanced down at the pumps that already had her towering over the girls in the basement. “But I’m so tall already.”

  Olivan smirked. “He’s 6’2”. You’re safe.”

  Kadin thought back to the last pair of four-inch pumps Trinithy had convinced her to buy and realized she had gotten rid of them the last time Octavira had taken donations to the charity store. Which meant Kadin would have to borrow shoes from her sister-in-law, whose feet were a size smaller than Kadin’s. She groaned but nodded. “I can make it work this week and go shopping on the weekend. What else?”

  “On his list of interests, he includes autocar racing, and, fortunately for you, your best friend in the entire world managed to pick up the latest issue of Racers for you to peruse at opportune moments.” Olivan pulled the glossy out of Dahran’s file and handed it to Kadin. “I also have a list of his favorite television programs, but since your brother is too cheap to buy one, that’s of little help.”