I force a smile and drop my head as I walk past her and into my office. I knew it wasn’t a good idea to hire her. I knew it before she even opened her mouth. Gorgeous, young, and as tempting as hell, Cindy is a walking, talking recipe for an X-rated after-hours meeting on my desk. Luckily for her, I take my job very seriously and I’ve worked too damn hard to fuck it up now with my hungry d*c*k. She wouldn’t be able to take what I have to give anyway. She acts like a bad girl, but I know her type. She’s way too pure for my tastes. The poor fool is now openly swooning over me every day, and I have to tell you, it’s fucking annoying. One of these days I’m going to tell her just how much. I dump my bag onto my desk and look around my office. It’s neat, modern, and was decorated by my two sisters, Natasha and Bridget. This is my happy place now. Back when I was a navy seal, the dream of opening this business was what kept me going throughout my lengthier deployments.
There’s a large, rustic timber desk in my office, as well as a trendy abstract painting, a leather wingback chair, and an ottoman that sits by the window. We run the business out of a converted warehouse that has high ceilings and rustic floors to give it an industrial yet modern feel. The business is successful, and every day is different. That’s what I love about it the most.
Ben pops his head around the door, so he can see into my office. “You ready to go?”
“Yeah, sure thing.” I stand and grab my things, and within two minutes, Jesten- who we call Jes-Ben and I are on our way to our first meeting of the day.
We work in threes, that way we can ensure the safety of everyone. Jes and Ben are my partners. Funnily enough I met them both through my sisters. One married one sister, the other had the hots for the other sister, but he wasn’t as fortunate. Somehow, through it all, I gained two great friends and employees out of it.
I got lucky.
We drive down the road in my car. “So, where are we going?” I ask.
Jes flicks through the paperwork from his position in the back seat. “To see a Hilary Chancellor.”
“What’s her deal?” Ben asks.
“Middle aged, very wealthy. Her husband died and it was determined a suicide.”
My eyes find Jes in the rearview mirror. “And the wife doesn’t think it was?”
“She does, but she thinks he was having an affair before he died, and she wants us to find out who the woman was.”
I scrunch up my face. “Fuck off, man, we don’t do that kind of shit.”
“Same,” Ben mutters as he stares out the window, uninterested.
“The thing is…” Jes continues. “I studied his autopsy report and I’m not so sure it actually was suicide.”
My eyes find Jes again. “What makes you think that?”
“It doesn’t add up. The time of death, where he was found… it would have been near impossible for him to have done it all alone without any help. I also saw that he had past anal trauma.”
My eyes flick to Jes in the mirror in question. “Mr. Chancellor liked cock?”
“Seems so, although I’m not sure if his wife would have been aware of that from just reading the autopsy report. It wasn’t exactly spelled out in those terms.”
I frown as I turn onto their street. “Okay, then let’s go find out.”
We pull up outside a luxury house that backs onto Sydney Harbour, and I instantly smile when I see the view. “Very nice.”
“What stupid prick would kill himself if he lived here?” Jes mutters under his breath.
“Right?” Ben whispers as we approach the front door.
I ring the doorbell, and a male servant answers the huge door. “Yes, hello, we’ve been expecting you. Please, come through.” He shows us through the house and takes us out to the backyard which has spectacular views across the harbour. “Please take a seat.” He smiles as we all sit down. “Can I get you a drink or anything?”
“No, thanks.” I smile. Mrs. Chancellor approaches from inside, and we all stand immediately.
“Mrs. Chancellor, I’m Brock Marx. My colleagues are Ben Statham and Jesten Miller. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I introduce us as we all shake her hand and pass over our business cards.
“Thank you for coming.” She’s an attractive lady in her late forties who is immaculately dressed and has a killer body. She looks around nervously to see if anyone can hear us before she sits down.
Hmm, interesting. She clearly doesn’t trust her staff.
“I’m very sorry about your husband Mr. Chancellor,” I say. “Our sincere condolences.”
She smiles softly. “It’s been six months now and I miss him more every day.”
“So, why are we here?” I ask.
She takes a folded piece of paper out of her pocket and slides it across the table.
04123378903
“Phone number?” Ben frowns.
She nods. “Yes. But I have no idea whose.” She smiles, as if embarrassed.
“After my husband died, I found this phone number in his cell records. I think it may be one of a secret girlfriend’s.”
I roll my lips. I hate this fucking shit.
“You think he was having an affair?”
“I’m not sure, but he called this number on the days that I was going out of town, which leads me to believe that it is someone he would meet when I was away.”
We all nod and exchange subtle glances. How do you tell someone that you suspect their husband was seeing another man, not a woman? “Mrs. Chancellor, I’m very sorry but I think you have the wrong idea. We don’t deal with infidelity cases,” I tell her.
“I have reason to believe my husband was being blackmailed.”
“Why?” asks Jes.
“He sold a million dollars’ worth of shares on the week he disappeared, but the cash has never been recovered.”
“It’s not in any of his accounts?” I frown.
“No, he withdrew it in cash on the day that he died.”
Okay, my interest is officially piqued. “What do you know about this phone number?” I ask.
“Only that it was disconnected on the day of his death.”
“Hmm.”
“That’s where I need you. I know you can find out who that number belongs to.”
I nod and take the piece of paper from her. “We will look into it and be in touch. I will need access to bank statements so that we can do a full investigation.”
“Brock?” she says.
“Yes.”
“My husband was dying of brain cancer and was fighting to survive. I know he didn’t kill himself,” she tells me with sadness in her eyes.
What the hell? I did not know that…Interesting.
We shake her hand, and she leads us out through the house. I turn to her before we leave.
“Thank you.” She smiles.
“We can’t make any promises.”
“I don’t care if he was having an affair. But I want his death ruled as murder, not suicide. It’s killing my children to think that their father ended his own life.”
I nod and shake her hand. “I fully understand. We’ll be in touch.”
Once outside and away from Mrs. Chancellor, we climb inside and start the car. “Where to now?” Jes asks.
“We need to brief with the boys.”
“Okay, so this is where we are at.” The boys are all sitting in a group around me, and Cindy is taking the meeting minutes. I point to the black board in front of me as I start to go through the point form cases we are working on. We do this every couple of weeks as a group of twelve.
“Through the week, we were contacted by one of the murdered girl’s fathers. He has put out a bounty.”
They frown in concentration as they listen to me.
“A million dollars to any person or persons who finds the killer.”
“What case is this?” Mason asks.
I blow out a breath because this case is confusing and hard to explain. “This particular story goes back a long way, and one of our very own was, in fact, a suspect for one of the first murders.” I gesture to Ben who nods in acknowledgment.
The boys all frown harder, their interest piqued.
“Six years ago, an extremely wealthy friend of ours had sex with a high-end prostitute. Unbeknown to him, she filmed him on three occasions having sex with her. She then went on and threatened to go to the paparazzi with the footage if he didn’t pay her millions of dollars.”
The boys all listen intently.
“He didn’t pay her. Instead, he had his security team try and retrieve the footage tapes. But before they could, the prostitute was found dead at the docklands. She had been hog tied and shot in the back of the head. Her body was severely beaten before they finished her off.”
“Did this wealthy friend of yours kill her?” Mason asks.
“No.” I shake my head. “He had nothing to do with it, although I will admit that it had run through his security team’s mind.”
The boys all glance towards Ben as they try to connect the dots.
“What was her name?” Cindy asks as she takes the notes.
“We will call her TC,” I reply. “TC.” I put a photograph of her up on the noticeboard and pin it in place. “Gorgeous, young, and capable of earning five-thousand dollars for just four hours work.”
One of the boys lets out a low whistle.
“TC was bribing many men. At the time, we thought she was working alone.” I begin to take photographs of the six other women and pin them up beside TC’s. “However, since then, a further six high-end call girls have met the same unfortunate fate as our dear TC.”
“You think it’s a serial killer?” someone asks.
I shake my head. “No, I don’t. I think the girls were all working for the same person.”
“What do you mean?” Jes asks.