100 Ways to Solve a Murder-Chapter 142: The Girls Night Out III

Gregory’s Pub, Central London

Sam got in the ’cab,’ Bill looked at her at the driver’s seat that weekend. "Where to, Dr. Gray?" the man asked, noticing her attire. Sam smiled, "we’re going to a pub tonight, Bill, and we’ll have to pick up Elle along the way." she said, wrapping her leather jacket closer to her body.

Minutes later, Elle hops in the seat beside Sam, greeting the familiar driver a good evening. Sam eyes the file in her assistant’s hand, "Work?" she asked. Elle shook her head in response and handed the file to the redhead, "Background check," she answered, earning a curious brow from the redhead. Why would she need it? "Just take a look at it." the brunette insisted, and Sam did so. Sam opened the file, and there on the first page was a picture of Lea Powell.

Not long after they arrived at their destination, Paramore’s ’Still into you" was playing in the background when Sam walked in with Elle in tow. The two of them were dolled up for the night; Sam in a black leather jacket over her red top and skin-tight jeans and heels. Elle in a low neck red wrapped dress and stilettos. The redhead invited her closest female friend; of course, there was no harm to that. They were both off duty the day after anyway.

Janet raised her hand in the crowd noticing the two women walk in from the entrance. A smile spread wide on her small face; her cheeks were rosy from drinking—her body swaying with the music.

Sam smiled, joining the other girls at the table in the corner of the room. There were six of them: Her, Janet, Lisa, Elle, Lea and a woman named Clarice. Break-up stories were exchanged, bad dates, worse sex, and all that she-bang.

Sam was far from drunk, but she did have enough alcohol in her system to plot something devious. Like a new experiment, something she can do for her thesis. She wondered how many free drinks their table will receive, seeing as most of them were dressed for the occasion. And single men tend to prey on a group of beautiful women.

All were having fun, and Lisa expressed how much she missed drinking her ass off and not worrying about a hangover the next morning. She expressed her happiness in her domestic life, of course. Although, admittedly, she could use more excitement. She wanted to travel more, but it was more difficult since she and her husband had a five-year-old to look after. And they could barely have a decent date night, both of them very busy in their jobs.

Lea turned to Sam; she scrutinized the younger woman beside her. She really could wear a trash bag and still make it look hot. The redhead was toned and had curves in the right places, not only that her skin glowed with youth under the dimly lit room. Lea mentally wondered if she had any plastic surgery done since she could easily afford it. But then again, her brother was Ivan Fredricksen, and he had always been good looking based on his photos of him in business and tech magazines growing up. And from what Lea gathered, from stalking her ex’s current girlfriend, her late mother used to model when she was alive. So, she could only assume that the redhead was naturally beautiful.

"How is he? Still keeping body parts in the fridge?" Lea asked, meaning Levi. Sam smiled nodding. "Yes, he still does," she confirmed, earning a giggle from the curly blonde. She could go on with how they dissolved a carcass with hydrofluoric acid just hours ago, but she decided not to share that, knowing they wouldn’t appreciate it.

Lea laughed out loud, Laughing that didn’t reach her eyes. "Good Ol’ Lev, back when we were together, he always stored body parts in the fridge; surprised me every time I grabbed a soda," she said, cackling after like a hyena. Sam’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, yep, she saw it...the nickname, and the casual dropping of ’when we were together.’ And the forced smile that didn’t reach her eyes. All of it played in slo-mo in Sam’s observant eyes; she knew the woman wanted to piss her off. And honestly, it was working.

What ticked her off most was, ’Lev.’ It was a stupid nickname. And only a moron lacking mental prowess would come up with it. His name was Levi Knight Jackson. Levi! It was a brilliant name; she liked that name. If Lea could just struggle all through its four fucking letters.

Lisa gripped Lea’s elbow under the table in warning; she caught it too; whatever the voluptuous woman was trying to do, it was not a good idea. Sober or not, Lisa wouldn’t advise anyone to cross Sam. Admittedly she’s generally the patient and soft-spoken type, but her temper Lisa knew was as fiery as her mane.

Lea ignored Lisa’s hand, pulling her arm away to prop it on the table. She couldn’t really handle her alcohol well, and she regretted just saying it like that; it was definitely the ’ex-girlfriend’ syndrome playing—the Need to prove that she was better than the new one. And Lea was aware she was losing to a woman who wasn’t even making any effort to compete. What for? She already won, hasn’t she? She had the elusive Levi Jackson, the ’hot detective’ wrapped around her finger. She won.

And looking back, she knew that she wasn’t even ’really’ Levi’s girlfriend. She was just an object he manipulated and used to get what he wanted for research for science. Their relationship was a mere experiment to him. And at first, she thought Levi was using Sam too, as he did her, for her position in Guy’s. But in time, he proved her wrong, like everyone who thought the same. Passed down stories from common friends and acquaintances, heard or seen by their own eyes. Photos of them together in public all over the internet giggling like school girls. Dinners together, weekly date nights--that he had never bothered with when he was with her. And she knew the truth was, Levi cared for Sam. Something he never did to her. After so many years, the slicked bastard not once even attempted to make an apology for basically treating her like a science project; and she doubts a time will ever come that he will.

In her experience, she received no genuine affection from him, and it wounded her ego. She wouldn’t admit it, but she did love him, and a small part of her still does. A wounded part wondering why she wasn’t good enough for him.

His confidence, swag, brilliance, his mental prowess was a breath of fresh air.

Levi Jackson was not like other men.

No, there was no other man like Levi Jackson.

He was too good--and--too bad to be true, and that’s what was so fascinating.

And the fact that he does not only look like he can walk in a runway 24/7, but he was also a bloody-good-kisser, and had a knack for saying the right words (regardless that it was lies) to gain her affection previously, did not help her case.

Yes, it was the ex-girlfriend syndrome playing. The need to win a break-up, get a better lover, but she knew Levi Jackson didn’t care enough about their ’relationship’ even to waste a second of his time for such a petty endeavor.

"I do wonder, is he still rough in the bedroom as I remember him?" Lea added in her drunkard stupor. She just wanted a win, to make the redhead frown just one time.

Janet and Elle’s eyes almost bulged out of their eye sockets, tensing at her statement. It’s not that she said it wrong; Lea actually had a way of saying it that wasn’t at all offensive. It’s the actual message that shocked them. They had seen it enough from other women; they knew that it was indeed the jealous-ex syndrome. On the other hand, Clarice was now flirting with a man at the other table, oblivious at the drama starting to unfold.

Before Sam could even reply, Lea leaned closer towards her. "Does he growl wherever you go down on him, too?" she whispered. Elle observed the two woman’s exchange in the corner of her eyes; however, whatever the blonde had whispered to Sam, she did not catch, but Elle knew it irked the redhead enough that she had gripped her glass tightly in her hand.

Sam felt like tearing the woman apart, flaying her perhaps, preferably alive. But that would be a crime, but then again, she knew if she simply asked, her brother can make it possible.

Sam calmed her hammering heart, willing herself to watch her temper. She couldn’t possibly allow the blonde to win by responding to her in the way she wanted her to, in anger and perhaps even jealousy.

Sam smiled, then she giggled, playing the character she decided to play. And using the knowledge she had based on the background check Elle had provided hours ago. She knew that Levi and Lea’s relationship ended on a sour note, considering the blond Irishman basically used the woman as a test subject for a book he wrote on psychological manipulation a few years back. How he strung her along and how he dropped her when he was done--of course, this part wasn’t written in the book.

She grinned even wider, faking her embarrassed expression and leaning towards Lea.

"Surprisingly, not as loud as when he’s about to go down on me," she said, turning to smile at the girls at their table.

"Had he ever shown you the box?" Sam asked seconds later, not bothering to lower her voice like before. Lea furrowed her brows, "What box?" she asked.

"The one inside his dressing room," she lied through her teeth. There was no box inside his dressing room.

"What about it?" Lea asked. Sam faked a sheepish look, "Never mind then," she said, taking a sip from her glass.

Lea laughed humorlessly, "Come on! we’re all girls here. What’s in the box?" she insisted. Sam looked at her, the corner of her lips stretching into a smile. "Let’s just say he stores several costumes to blend in for when he does surveillance..." Sam started vaguely, biting her lower lip for effect. "My favorite is the Doctor," she added, wanting to hit some of Lea’s nerves as she did with her. Lea’s jaw tightened, and she forced a giggle, while Janet blushed at her statement, her imagination played with her. The revelation of ’costumes’ was enough for her to think of roleplaying.

Sam smiled self-satisfied, wiggling her brows at Lisa and Elle. They both knew she was lying, but still, the way she said it still made them blush.

Clarice returned as if on cue, with a pack of men from the other table; Sam had her eyes on the one with superior genetics. He slipped his number to her before the night ended, which she accepted with a wink. She can’t recall his name, but she’ll be calling him JD, her first human guinea pig for her Sociology thesis.