Chapter 31

A few minutes later, Tom found himself seated with the girls.

Fortunately, they had booked a table and adding him hadn’t been a problem since it was a table for four. Once they had ordered their food and a round of drinks, the girls chatted about the day at work.

Tom listened carefully to make sure he was up-to-date. For him, the ‘workday’ under discussion had been nearly five months before. His ears picked up when Amanda complained, “Bloody Sweeny is becoming a real pain in my arse. Even drunk off my tits I wouldn’t fuck that creepy dickhead.”

“Marsha from Accounting says that he likes it rough. She only went out with him once and said never again,” Cindy added as she excepted her drink from the waitress. They had all ordered a Bundy Rum and Coke, so it didn’t matter who got what.

“He is rather disturbing. I get a chill whenever that sleazy perve, is near me,” Rachelle commented and even shuddered slightly.

Tom had to think about what the girls were saying. He did tend to get single-minded at work and didn’t pay a lot of attention to office politics. Even so, he had noticed the way Sweeny checked out the girls in the office.

Sweeny wasn’t a bad looking bloke with his styled, black, wavey hair. He had a light-brown complexion that hinted at a mix of European races and a slim build with a noticeable paunch. He was in his early forties, and he dressed well in tailored suits that probably cost a pay-check each.

Sweeny had made Detective before he landed his current job as the Director of Fraud a year before. Tom didn’t know how he’d gotten the job when the man couldn’t balance his own finances or turn on a computer without help.

It was his eyes, Tom thought. Sweeny did have creepy, black eyes, and he often wore a sardonic expression. He also talked down to the girls and ordered them around as if they were his own personal slaves. He hated the girls talking back to him and gave off a violent vibe if they did.

Sweeny didn’t like the nerdy guys bucking him, either and he was quick with the derogatory put-downs. Sweeny’s attitude toward the staff made him a crap boss and Tom realised that was why he didn’t like the man and why his job had gone to shit of late.

About six months before, Sweeny had tried to browbeat him, and Tom stared him down. He had brought up his sent mail file, turned his computer around, and showed Sweeny the dates, time and to whom, the report the man was ranting about, was sent.

Tom knew that his defiance had earned him a lot of the perceived, shitty jobs of late, and not the important cases. Unfortunately for Sweeny, those jobs had ended up important to one of Tom’s other investigations, so he had said nothing.

Interestingly, Sweeny hadn’t tried to talk down to him since. In fact, Sweeny had hardly been near him since then and had only communicated with him via the odd email or more commonly, his long-suffering secretary, Shirly.

Tom let his eyes wander around the room as he tuned out the girls when they started nattering about shoes. As his eyes travelled over a table set up for about twelve people, he noted that it was populated with some of the bosses from work and their flunkies.

While he was classed as a contractor these days, he still worked for the Constabulary. His year as an FYC had meant he had gotten to know who was who, early on in his time with the precinct.

Tom wondered what the occasion was, for these particular bosses to be out in force. He could only think they were having their Australia Day holiday early, as most of his ilk worked over long weekends and other holidays. Crime didn’t take a holiday.

He couldn’t remember an occasion in the last three years when he didn’t work the public holidays. Married people always got first dibs. Single guys like him were expected to work and take their holidays some other time.

Tom’s eyes lighted on the Director of Narcotics, Carol Miller. The fact she was sitting close to Sweeny and seemed to be flirting with the man told Tom what he needed to know. Carol was known as a real hard-arse, ball-buster at work. It was also rumoured that she was into some kinky stuff when off-duty.

The Narcotics squad had some rather dubious characters working in it, as they did a lot of undercover operations. His department and theirs often had to collaborate on investigations, since his job was to follow the money. Sweeny had previously been part of that squad.

“What’s the bet he is fucking her?” Cindy’s voice said as she nodded at the couple that Tom had been observing.

Tom swivelled back around and looked at Cindy, “Not a bet I’d take if I thought he wasn’t.”

“I thought that fraternisation was against company policy?” Rachelle stated as she idly stirred her drink with the skinny, half-length straw.

Amanda chuckled, “Only between bosses and minions like us. We can screw each other as long as we keep the ‘woe and show’ away from work.”

“Is that how you get away with screwing half the cops we work with?” Cindy asked before sipping her drink through the straw she had, then grinned at her friend again.

Amanda gave Cindy a mock look of being affronted and placed her manicured hand over her bountiful cleavage, “What do you mean half? I’ll have you know that I haven’t screwed the women.”

Rachelle arched an eyebrow at Amanda, “Not for want of trying.”

Amanda battered her fake eyelashes at Rachelle, “You’re just frightened I’ll squash your skinny arse. I told you that you can be on top, darling. I’ll give anything a try at least once.”

Cindy and Tom both had to chuckle at the banter.

Despite his best judgment, Tom found himself being herded into the night club after the dinner that he had paid for.

Some hours later, he was still drinking and dancing with Cindy, Rachelle, and Amanda. The live band had just stopped for a break, and they were still standing on the dance floor when a hand slid over Tom’s arse. He turned to find Carol Miller smiling up at him.

“Hi, hunky, want to cut this joint?” Carol asked with a slur in her voice as she ran her nails down his chest. She knew exactly who Tom was and had plans for him.

The long, blood-red manicured nails on the wrinkled hands were not a turn on for Tom. He shook his head, “Sorry, my girlfriends would be quite peeved if I deserted them.”

Carol arched an eyebrow at him, and in surprise, she said, “Girlfriends?”

Tom stepped back between Cindy and Amanda and waved at the three women with him. “They tend to be a bit possessive,” he grinned.