Death By Team Building: Kat Voyzey Mysteries, #3

Death By Team Building

A Kat Voyzey Mystery, Book 3

Cheri Baker

Published by Adventurous Ink, Seattle

Find all of Cheri’s books, her mailing list, and more at cheribaker.com.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

First edition. April 30, 2018.

978-0-9910811-5-8

Copyright © 2013 Cheri Baker

All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Adventurous Ink. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher.

Book design by Patrick Baker

Cover art by The Book Brander

For my friends at Orion.

Chapter One

CAN’T YOU STAY HOME WITH me? Derek’s voice was low and soft in my ear as he slipped one arm around my waist. Perhaps if you got a sudden case of the flu… Beneath the sheets, his fingertips brushed my belly button, just above the waistband of my pajama bottoms. And because I knew his tricks, I reached back and tickled him behind the knee, before he could do the same. He chuckled and bent his leg, trapping my hand.

You’ve got me, I said.

Yes, and it’s about damn time. He wrapped his arms around my middle and rolled me on top of him, flipping me like a turtle. I kicked at the blanket in a half-hearted attempt to liberate myself, and he tickled my ribs. I laughed until I ran out of air, and he released his hold on me.

It isn’t fair, I said.

That I’m wicked-strong?

I snuggled my body back into his, my little spoon to his big one, and pulled the comforter over our heads. If I hid beneath the blankets, I didn’t need to look at the clock on my nightstand. And if I didn’t turn around, I wouldn’t see those persuasive blue eyes imploring me to stay.

Yes, although that’s not what I meant. It’s not fair I have to spend my entire weekend at this stupid retreat. We finally get a snow day in Seattle, but instead of drinking cocoa and spending time with you, I have to work. I tossed off the blankets and rolled over to look at him, taking in his dark hair and that impish grin. I reached out to touch the stubble on his cheek, and—

Milo, noticing that we were awake, jumped onto the bed with a trilled meow. He squeezed between us in the way only cats can manage, blocking my view of Derek and giving me a faceful of white fur. Milo adored my boyfriend, but he wouldn’t stop trying to reclaim his prime spot on my pillow. As far as the cat was concerned, he had seniority.

Move it, I said. Milo responded by pivoting and smacking his fluffy tail across my face. I jerked back to avoid a second blow, no doubt as he had intended. He settled down in the space I vacated, purring triumphantly.

I propped my head up on one arm so I could see over the happy beast. Thanks for keeping an eye on him this weekend. He hates the cat sitter. She tried to pet him last time, and he hissed in her face. Like me, Milo was choosy in his associations.

No problem. Besides, it’ll give us some time to talk smack about you while you’re gone. Derek scratched Milo on the sides of his lower jaw where he liked it best. The purring intensified. Are you sure you don’t want to play hooky and stay home with us? We could say you caught a disease. We’ll make up something gross, so they don’t want you to go. How about smallpox?

Too serious, I said. I’d need something disgusting but harmless. How about restless bowel syndrome?

He nodded. That should do the trick. No one wants restless bowels. I’ll call Angela. He made to reach for my phone and I pushed his hand away, laughing.

My alarm beeped for the second time, and I groaned. I wish I could stay, but no hooky for me this time. I promised Angela I’d fill in for her, and it would look bad if I didn’t go. Besides, it’s not her fault she can’t be there.

My boss and I had come to a fragile accord over the previous year, and I didn’t want to jeopardize our relationship. She’d been supportive of my decision to get my private investigator’s license the previous fall, even encouraging me to use my fledgling investigation skills for the good of the hospital. And to my profound relief, she’d agreed not to blab about my ‘activities’ to the rest of the leadership team. It was hard enough fitting in without everyone thinking you were a weirdo. Covering for Angela at the retreat was the least I could do.

You’re right, Derek said. But I’ll miss you. He tilted his head, letting his dark brown hair fall enticingly over one eye.

I’ll miss you too, I said, marveling at how strongly I meant it. It felt right to have Derek in my bed. Not only in the sexual sense, although that part was a revelation. There’s nothing better than falling asleep next to someone you love and knowing they’ll be there in the morning when you wake up. Why had we waited so long? In retrospect, my caution seemed foolish.

Well, since you insist on being so responsible, Derek said, shooting me a severe look, let’s get you some breakfast. You get ready, and I’ll find us something to eat. He got out of bed and put on my pink bathrobe, twirling around before looking back at me over one shoulder.

Very fashionable, I said. Now I know what to get you for Christmas. Oh, and there are strawberry Pop-Tarts hidden behind the toaster, and a bag of donuts in the fridge.

He shook his head. Those things do not qualify as food.

Sure they do, I said, as I grabbed a clean towel off the dresser. They’re part of a complete breakfast! Or were those commercials during Saturday morning cartoons lying to me? I clutched my throat in mock-horror. Commercials would never lie! Corporations are our friends!

He took the bathrobe off and hung it up behind the door before reaching for his jeans. I’ll run down to the corner store. And when you get back from this trip, we’re getting you some groceries. Actual food. The kind that grows in the dirt.

That sounds good, I said, raising my voice to be heard over the sound of running water in the bathroom. Especially the ‘when I come back’ part.

AFTER I SHOWERED AND DRESSED, I rechecked my suitcase to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything. My packing list was scrawled on a big yellow sticky note. I touched each item on the list, verifying it was there. Call me weird if you like, but lists are what separate us from chaos, not to mention embarrassment. Can you imagine showing up on a business trip and realizing you didn’t pack any underwear?

Out in the living room, Derek had set the coffee table for breakfast, and he was in the kitchen plating eggs and bacon he’d picked up from the deli downstairs. We ate together, and after I’d carried my plate into the kitchen, he presented me with a small paper bag, folded over at the top.

A donut? For me? I fluttered my eyelashes at him, and he laughed.

For the road, he said, kissing me on the tip of my nose. "Do you have everything you need?

I do. And that reminds me, I have something to show you. Remember how this retreat is supposed to be technology-free?

Derek nodded. No distractions, right? Just a lot of group hugs and heavy eye contact.

Ugh, I said. Smallpox was sounding better and better. Angela said I have to turn over my phone when I arrive but check this out. I opened my purse and pulled out my wallet, along with my cell phone, power cable, mints, lipstick, a pen, and other small items. Then I turned my purse upside-down and shook it for good measure. The bag is empty, right?

Have you hidden a rabbit in there?

Something like that. I plunged my hand inside the bag, pulling on the hidden zipper at the bottom. From the secret compartment I pulled out a small flip-phone, a second charger, a round plastic container half-full of gray powder, a makeup brush, a roll of tape, my lock picks, and a thin leather wallet.

He picked up the powder. Why are you hiding your eyeshadow?

That’s not eyeshadow, silly. It’s dusting powder for lifting prints. This is my PI kit! But the important part is the phone. See? I’ll hand over my regular phone at the retreat, but I’ll have my burner phone hidden away. Then at night, I’ll text you from my room.

Well, if you bought a secret phone so we can communicate, I must be even more irresistible than I thought. Derek stood taller and put one fist on each hip, Superman style.

He was too cute. Well, I bought a burner phone because it’s part of my private investigation kit. And I got the purse so I can carry my supplies without outing myself. But so long as I have the phone…

You may as well text your irresistible boyfriend from your room at night.

Exactly. I leaned in for a kiss before repacking my purse, first the hidden items, then the rest.

Derek’s forehead furrowed, like it always did before he asked a question. I gotta ask though, why haven’t you told Gary and the team about your investigation work? Angela knows, and the HR team knows. You’ve helped the hospital twice now, by assisting the police. You’re licensed and bonded. Why hide what you can do?

I didn’t expect Derek to understand. How could he? He was a lawyer and a man. No one would treat him like the kid-sister when he showed up at a leadership meeting. Working in HR meant I had to work twice as hard to gain half the respect everyone else got. If the executives knew I was running around playing Nancy Drew, they’d think I was an idiot. Or worse, that I was spying on them.

It’s not any of their business, I said, shrugging. My phone buzzed; it was my ride. I should get going. My heavy winter coat went on first, along with gloves, a hat, and a scarf. After a moment’s hesitation, I tucked a second pair of gloves into my purse. Someone always forgets to bring gloves.

I leaned in for one more of Derek’s long lingering kisses. When my phone buzzed again, I pulled away reluctantly.

Be safe, Kat. Come back to me.

I will. See you Sunday night. I bent down and scratched Milo under the chin and blew Derek a kiss, and then rolled my suitcase out the door and towards the elevator. The lobby of my building smelled like snow, and I felt a tiny thrill. Even though I had to work, I couldn’t escape that sensation of wonder, reminiscent of snow days when I was a child, when my sister Dori and I would escape the drudgery of school and spend the day outside, building forts and dressing snowmen in our father’s clothes.

White flakes spiraled down from the sky. Our local meteorologist Steve Pool had predicted six inches downtown, which was enough to close most businesses and roads, turning Seattle into a winter wonderland. I walked through the double doors and out to the sidewalk, where the thin layer of snow crunched beneath my feet. My right foot slipped, and I put a hand out to steady myself.

Loitering at the curb outside was the biggest black SUV I’d ever seen. Plumes of white steam billowed out of the tailpipe, and dark-tinted windows made it difficult to see inside. The passenger side window rolled down with a mechanical whir, revealing Joel Fowler, our director of corporate compliance.

I’d never seen Joel wear anything other than slacks and a polo shirt or button up, but there he was, dressed in a Seahawks Twelfth Man T-shirt, with a day’s worth of stubble on his chin. Before I’d recovered from my surprise, he told me to load my bag in the back. The hatch opened, and I hoisted my bag up and into the cargo area, which included a suitcase and an assortment of skis, duffel bags, hard-sided plastic boxes, and a disassembled bicycle.

I hoisted myself into the passenger seat, and Joel waited for me to put on my seatbelt. Then he held his right hand up high, the palm facing me.

Quick! Kat! High-five me!

What?

Just do it! He looked cheerfully deranged.

I complied, and he slapped my hand hard enough to make it sting. I wasn’t sure what to make of his transformation. Joel was always polite at work, but in a bland way that I associated with auditors and unflavored oatmeal packets. At work, he dressed in neutral colors, which helped him blend into the background of conference rooms. Was this a personality I was seeing? And I was I supposed to act goofy too? If there was a code of conduct for team building retreats, no one had sent me the memo.

Let’s do this, he said, grinning as if he’d won a bet. Are you ready for trust-building and positive group-dynamics? Before I could formulate a response, he put on his turn signal and hit the gas pedal hard enough to make the tires squeal. The SUV fishtailed out onto the icy street.

Chapter Two

THANKS FOR PICKING ME UP, I said, once we were on the interstate. "I hate driving in bad