“I believe this case is closed,” August announced as she slapped the folder down on Mercy’s desk. It had taken her all afternoon to type up her report.

“Thank you,” Mercy mumbled, reaching for the file without looking up from her computer screen.

August shrugged. It was not like her boss to be so aloof unless she was knee-deep in a case of her own. Mercy didn’t take on many cases these days, she left most of that to her staff. Not that August minded. Her boss had to deal with all the clients, hearing all their sob stories. The very thought of it made August want to retch.

“So, any plans to go out with my favourite policeman again?” Mercy asked, finally dragging her gaze from her work.

“I’ve told you, I’m not interested in finding a man. Why are you so desperate to set us up?”

“Reese isn’t just any man, Aug. He’s been through a lot of crap and deserves to find someone who’ll be good to him.”

“Yeah? And what crap might that be?”

“Not my story to tell,” Mercy shrugged.

“So you are just going to be all elusive? Not tell me what his story is or why I should care, just that I should?”

“Why do you want me to tell you? So you can feel sorry for him? I don’t think Reese needs your pity. And anyway, since when do you care about people’s sad stories?”

“Ouch,” August winced.

“Oh, c’mon, Aug. We both know you’re not exactly the warm, fuzzy type.”

“No... I’m more cold and prickly,” she ground out.

“You are just a no-bullshit kind of person. Since when do you care what people thought about you anyway?”

“I don’t,” August lied.

Mercy raised a single eyebrow in question.

“Well, I care what some people think about me, I guess.” That was something she would never admit to anyone else. In fact, it came as a bit of a shock to herself to admit it. “Anyway, how does all of this relate to me going or not going out with Constable Fucker?”

“I just think if you gave the man the benefit of the doubt and got to know him, you might actually find you like him.”

“Why don’t you go after him if you like him so much? Why are you trying to push us together?”

“August,” Mercy shook her head. “He’s like a big brother to me. We are so not interested in each other. You two on the other hand…”

“Since when did you start playing matchmaker?” Mercy laughed in response. “You’re like that old aunt that everyone hates, who’s worried I might end up on the shelf. I’m quite comfortable and happy up on my shelf. Thank you very much.”

“Okay,” Mercy conceded. “But don’t rule him out, that’s all I’m saying. He’s one of the few good men out there, and I’d hate to see him end up with someone like Sabrina… or worse.”

“Well, I don’t care who he ends up with,” August huffed out. “It’s not going to be me.”

“You know what you need?” Mercy asked and continued talking without waiting for August to reply. “You need a good night out. Kick up your heels, dance, get drunk.”

“Is that your answer to everything?” August chuckled.

“Pretty much,” Mercy shrugged. “Tonight. At Yanni’s. Seven o’clock. Make sure you wear those sexy red heels you bought.”

“But they hurt my feet,” she protested.

“August,” Mercy said sternly looking down her nose. “The red heels. Tonight. Yanni’s.”

“Yes, boss,” August feigned a sigh as she turned and headed for the door. She had to admit, she did love working with Mercy. She also loved that from time to time Mercy would force her to go out. If it weren’t for her, she would be quite happy to go home and hang out with Oscar every night. Not that Oscar seemed to mind.

Returning to her office, she opened the Deacon file. She knew this one would be easy. The wife had come in distraught after the daughter had told her the husband was cheating. She had done nothing in the way of investigations. The husband had typically denied it. Within minutes, she had brought up the man’s phone records which showed a regular call placed at nine o’clock every morning followed by calls to the same number at regular intervals throughout the day. Running the number turned up one Sophie Richards. She scribbled down the name and moved onto his credit card statements.

Some men were blatantly obvious with their discrepancies; others went to huge lengths to cover their tracks. Often a serial cheater became lax in their efforts to hide. They developed an attitude of entitlement. The one that sprang to mind was the man who was sleeping with his children’s nanny, while his wife was in the other room.

The poor woman knew something was up with him and had approached Mercy asking for their help. They had tracked him and couldn’t work out where he was meeting with his beau even though his behaviour pointed to the fact that something was very wrong. In the end, they discovered the truth when the nanny was due to return overseas. August had caught him on camera in a passionate embrace at the airport. Photo or video evidence was difficult to refute, although many still tried.

It wasn’t her problem. She did her job. She gathered the evidence and handed it over to Mercy. Mercy delivered the news and what the clients chose to do with the information was their own business.

Hitting the print button, she reached over to snag the papers from the printer beside her desk. Another easy one. That would be enough for the day.

She tapped at the watch on her wrist, the battery had died. It didn’t matter, she had done enough work for one day. It was time to go home and get prettied up for her night out.

* * *

“Hey Oscar,” she called out as she slipped her shoes off. “How was your day, buddy?”

Of course, her fish didn’t answer her, he never did. She sighed heavily. Some days coming home to an empty house felt lonely.

Stepping under the steaming water of the shower, she relished in the heat hitting her skin. It had been a long day, and she thought she might call Mercy and cancel their plans. Reaching for the shampoo, she lathered it into her hair. She loved the smell of the pearly liquid. Closing her eyes, she was struck by a vision of Reese’s smile. He had called her out for not calling him. Were he and Mercy in cahoots with each other? Why did she not seem to be able to get away from him?

Pulling her half wet hair into a loose ponytail, she applied her mascara and checked her phone.

Don’t try to skive out of this, Aug. Mercy’s message read, and she giggled to herself. Mercy knew her too well. But she was going to go. She needed a bit of stress relief and a night out with Mercy would give her that; she was sure. She could get drunk and forget about life for a while.

Forget about Reese for a while. As long as Mercy let up about him.

* * *

“Hey,” Mercy called to her from a booth near the front window of Yanni’s Street Bar. They had met here several times, and this had unofficially become their booth. “I took the liberty,” she smiled and nodded to the frosted glass sitting across from her.

“How did you know I was going to come?” she asked her friend, offering her a cheeky grin.

“I knew you wouldn’t let me down. Besides, I think you need a night out as much as I do. I was going to ask Davina, but…”

“Ugh, you know I can’t stand that girl.” August flopped down onto the chair facing her companion.

“I know, that’s why I didn’t ask. She’s not that bad once you get to know her, y’know.”

“Maybe I don’t want to get to know her.” August glanced around the room as she spoke. “Maybe I know enough people already.”

“Hello there, pretty ladies,” came a smooth voice that caused them both to turn their heads.

“We’re not interested,” they both called out in unison, before making eye contact and bursting into laughter. That was why they made such good friends.

“I just wanted to buy you both a drink. Maybe we could share a table. I have a couple friends over there,” the guy thumbed over his shoulder to a small group of older men who looked like they were on day release from prison.

“Again,” August found his eyes. “We said we are not interested. Thank you.”

“Well, why not?” the guy persisted. “We would be doing you women a favour. I suppose you think you are too good for us,” his eyes dropped to scan the length of her, “in your fancy city clothes.”

August felt a familiar heat rising in her body. The tone of voice he was using brought back a flood of bad memories, taking her back twenty years in an instant. She had come too far to allow someone insignificant to make her feel like that. Reaching for her purse, she rose to her feet.

“C’mon, Merc. Let’s get out of here.”

As she went to move from the booth, the man blocked her path, and her eyes darted to her friend.

“I will call security if you don’t move out of the way,” Mercy announced, resting a hand down on the table in front of him.

Reluctantly, the man moved out of the way, but his glare burned into her as she passed him. Clutching her purse tightly, she held her head high and moved toward the door.

“Don’t worry about it, mate, the whores aren’t worth it,” someone called from the other table.

Something snapped inside her head and August spun around to face the group, marching purposely toward them.

“August,” Mercy called from behind her.

“I’ll have you assholes know, we are leaving because no one should have to put up with crap from losers like you. Look at you,” she eyed them up and down as they had done to her. “You think you are what? How do you think you are going to pick up like that? You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

“Yeah, whatever, love,” one of the men sneered.

“I pity any woman who ever crosses your path, and I expect you will end up sad and lonely, just like you deserve.”

“You’re just jealous you can’t get a man,” the same man laughed abruptly.

“If all the men in the world were like you, I’d rather be without.”

“C’mon Aug,” she heard Mercy at her side and felt her hand on her upper arm. “They’re not worth it, honey.”

Tearing her eyes from the man in front of her, she spun on her heel and walked with Mercy back through the door.

“Are you okay?” Mercy asked as the fresh evening air hit their faces.

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”

Mercy’s arm wrapped around her shoulder and she pulled her in for a side hug. “Girl, you could never embarrass me. I was just worried you were going to shank that guy.”

Laughter bubbled up inside of her. As if she needed reminding of why she liked Mercy. “Let’s go get another drink, somewhere there are no dickheads.”

“What do you reckon our chances are of that?” Mercy asked with a raised brow.

“Yeah, good point. Maybe we should have stayed home and eaten pizza with Oscar. At least he never needs to be told.”

Tossing her head back in laughter, Mercy looped her arm through August’s, and they made their way down the mall, looking for a better place to stop and share a drink.

Eventually stumbling across a nice little corner pub and settling in for a night of people-watching and chatting about their day. Who needed men anyway?