She looked again at the directions on her phone, and matched the building address to the one on the glass door of the front entrance. "This is it," she said, astounded that the dearest friend of her youth lived only a few blocks away from where she worked as an adult. She could have passed her on the street every day since she'd begun working at Justiciar; she was often on these streets.

They'd parked at her work parking lot, because she wasn't sure about the parking situation at Rachel's building. It was only a short walk. They looked around to see if Sunny and Tej, or Al, were here yet. Maybe they were already inside.

"Where do we buzz in?" Joe asked.

Lauren chuckled. "Buzz. We certainly are children of the Seventies. We're not pressing buttons on an intercom anymore. Look." She indicated a large touchscreen beside the door. She tapped it and it sprang to life. A directory appeared. "Presto. We want Rachel Chan."

She scrolled until she found the Chans, of which there were more than one.

"Maybe R. Chan?" Joe said.

"Might as well try it."

He pressed the screen over the name. It rang a few times, and then to their surprise a man picked up, and for a brief second she thought they got it wrong, before the man said, "Hey, guys!"

Joe leaned into the speaker. "Is that you, Al?"

"Yeah, just answering for Rachel while she's pouring the wine. Everyone's here, come on up!"

They entered and went into the elevator. Lauren knew Joe would rather take the stairs. Hardly any elevator was large enough to contain him without triggering a mostly dormant claustrophobia. He endured for the short length of the trip, and when they entered through Rachel's open door, they found a room full of friends waiting for them, chatting and laughing.

Joe seemed to fill the room when he entered; in his roomy khakis and blue, short-sleeved, collared button-down shirt, he resembled a schooner set sail in an inflatable pool. Lauren was in her leather jacket and jeans today, her usual attire; the pretty blouse and slacks she'd worn last week were for more formal occasions.

"The gang's all here!" Lauren said, exuberant because it was true. Tej hadn't been at the memorial, and the memorial had been a sombre occasion; this was more like the inaugural meeting of the Lawrence Street Detective Club, version 2.0. She turned to Sunny's wife. "And here's our newest member of the LSDC. Isn't she gorgeous?"

"Oh! Thank you," Tej said.

"And I'm the only one you'll hear it from. The boys are too scared to appear creepy, and Rachel's too jealous."

Rachel gasped in shock. "That's not fair! I also didn't want to appear creepy. But nobody can accuse you of ill intent, Lauren; your dimples give you a free pass."

It was Lauren's turn to gasp, but she was joking. "It's true. I get away with a lot. It's actually a real advantage in my line of work."  

"How is being a private investigator, anyway?" Al asked. "Do you get to wear a hat and a trenchcoat like in the movies? Do you have a bottle of whiskey in your desk drawer?"

Lauren smirked. "No. Actually, it's mostly sitting in cars and taking candid photos of cheating husbands."

"And entrapping cheating husbands in nightclubs," Joe added, "but only with a colleague looking out for her. I don't sleep on those nights."

Lauren looked up, way up, lovingly at him. "Rather you at home with the kids, my love, than beating up the target and getting us sued..." She meant the company, whose insurance had paid the settlement to the bitch who'd seemed indifferent that her husband had been drugging women at nightclubs and raping them in his pied-a-terre, but Lauren and the company had been intertwined long enough to make no difference.

She looked back at her friends and saw their shocked expressions.

"There really isn't that much danger involved," she said. "And, anyway, if I felt threatened, I have pepper spray, a rape alarm, and a little zapper that's not entirely legal..." She trailed off, realizing she might have said too much.

"Jesus, Lauren, a rape alarm?" Rachel said. "You didn't tell me that when I was at your office on Wednesday." Wednesday was the first day Rachel had worked at Justiciar. On Tuesday she'd been at Westminster Law Group working for Sunny, and on Thursday she'd been at DiTomaso Construction. It was piecemeal, but Rachel was working again, and that was something.

"Couldn't find an opening in a discussion of accounts payable and receivable," Lauren said stiffly.

An awkward clearing of throats ensued.

"Well, anyway, enough about your exciting career," Rachel said. "We'd love to know more about you, Tej. What do you do while Sunny's burning the midnight oil?"

"I'm a real estate agent," she said. "Mainly Queensborough, the new Port Royal development, but also across the river in the Quayside and downtown New West."

"Only people who grew up in New West call it New West, ever notice that?" Joe asked. "Even though we live in Burnaby North, we still call it that."

"You ever hear non-New West folk call it New Westminister?" Al asked. "It's like they can't resist inserting a vowel between two consonants."

They chuckled awkwardly at this weak observation, and then there was a silence they all struggled to fill.

"Drinks!" Rachel said. She turned to Lauren and Joe. "Wine?"

"Yes, please," they both said at the same time.

While Rachel poured two more glasses, everyone looked for a place to sit or stand. They placed their glasses on coasters on the coffee table. Joe filled the armchair. Lauren was small enough to fit on the couch with Tej and Sunny. Al sat on the floor. For some reason, he flinched when his hand touched the floor, and he looked at it, picked something off it, and rubbed it between thumb and forefinger. Then he touched it to his tongue. Lauren wanted to shout, "Ewwww!" just like the boys had thirty years ago, when she'd touched that dead dog's tags; it was just as inexplicable to her as that had been to them.

Suddenly Al realized he had eyes on him.

He chuckled awkwardly. "Iron filings, by the taste," he said.

Rachel, who'd been walking into the living room with the drinks, suddenly started, dropping the glasses, which smashed on the hardwood floor, spraying wine everywhere.

"Oh, shit, sorry," Rachel said. "Everyone stay where you are, I'll need to clean up the glass."

They all gave each other sidelong glances as Rachel busied herself. Lauren wondered if Rachel had reacted that way at Al's mention of iron filings. If so, why? And what were iron filings doing on her floor? Had she been grinding car axles in her apartment?

"Can I help?" Al asked.

"No, no, it's okay. I've had a few already, my reflexes are off." Rachel swept up the glass, mopped up the wine with rags and used a hand-vac to get the microscopic shards.

Al wiped his hand on his pant leg while Rachel brought two more glasses of wine, which Joe and Lauren accepted gratefully, and with some relief.

To Lauren's surprise, Rachel didn't sit at one of the dining room chairs, but on the floor next to Al. It signalled either a camaraderie that had redeveloped already since they'd reunited, or an unconscious defence against the two married couples; Lauren wasn't sure which was the more interesting option.

"So..." Lauren said. "Things to discuss."

Since she'd first heard of Rachel's plight, she'd taken it upon herself to find out more about it. Luckily, she'd still had the cell phone number of the woman who'd been kind enough to give her Rachel's, and it hadn't taken much convincing to get the woman to break her NDA by telling her the name of the company to whom Rachel had been assigned, and the name of the CEO who'd framed her, especially when Lauren had informed her she was a private investigator working for Rachel to clear her name.

"I thought you were an old friend," the woman had said.

"I'm both, and I was able to contact her about the will, so thank you."

"Well, good luck, and I hope you nail the bastard," she'd said before hanging up.

A little surveillance of the CEO had revealed he was courting another woman who was not his wife. It was interesting that his wife, the one in pictures with him in society headlines, was quite attractive, more physically striking than Rachel or this new woman were, but Lauren had the feeling that was a purely superficial interpretation because, at least where Rachel was concerned, her allure lay more in her personality. Maybe he'd seen the same thing Lauren had, but more likely, in his pursuit of these particular women, he didn't see good and decent human beings but instead walking passwords, access to accounts that he wouldn't normally have; this new one was also an accountant, so Lauren suspected he was gearing up to try again, because he'd struck out when Rachel had gotten caught and fired.

"Do we really have to?" Rachel asked now. "We were having such a good time."

"Well, I guess it's up to you if you want to vindicate yourself or not," Lauren said, shrugging. "I just thought I'd let you know something about the man who caused your fall from grace." She pulled out her phone, scrolled to the picture she'd taken, then showed it to Rachel. "He's doing it again."

Rachel stared at it, her mouth hanging open. "Son of a bitch," she breathed. "I know that woman. We went through accounting together at SFU. She works at Chandler, Marks and Ryan, I think." She frowned and looked away from them for a moment. "He doesn't look sick," she murmured.

"Sick?" Lauren asked.

"Huh?" Rachel whipped back to them. "Sorry. I just... heard somewhere he'd gotten ill."

"So who is this guy, anyway?" Sunny asked.

"His name is Martin Heath," Lauren said. "He's a big developer in the Lower Mainland. A lot of properties under construction. Billions of dollars in sales. Rachel's firm was doing the accounting for the company."

"I know of the guy," Joe said. "They're the top dog. We do work under contract for them. I hardly ever see him on a site, though. He's too high up to get his wingtips dirty."

"He stole money from his company, using me as the patsy," Rachel said. "I thought he'd learned his lesson the first time, but it looks like he's seducing another woman to do it for him again. He's going to ruin her life just like he did mine."

"Not if we bring him down first," Lauren said.

"Can I ask a question?" Al asked.

"You just did," Rachel said, smirking.

"Ha, ha. This guy, is he also the reason why your social media was flooded with death threats?"

She put her hands over her face. "No," she groaned. "That was stupid..."

"People threatening your life is hardly stupid," Lauren said, but she didn't think Martin Heath was connected at all with those trolls. It was that game, and the CGI character in Rachel's profile page, that were an entirely new side to Rachel she wanted to know more about.

"I mean, it doesn't have anything to do with my career," Rachel said. "I play online fantasy role-playing games in my spare time, which happened to be a lot of the time once I lost my job. I did it to escape reality, you know? I got into RPGs when I was in high school, after I moved away from you guys; I found a different crowd, and spending time in a fantasy world of my own imagination helped me take my mind off my troubles with my mother at home." Suddenly she chuckled and said, "You know what my character's name was?"

"I'm interested in finding out, I never knew you were a gamer," Sunny said.

"You're going to laugh," Rachel said.

"Now I really want to know," Lauren said, thinking it had something to do with the Twitter handle Rachel used.

Rachel sighed, smiling. "It was Lorelei the Magnificent. She was an elf with a bowl-shaped haircut and a wicked long sword."

When Rachel described it, Lauren burst out laughing, surprised she hadn't put it together sooner. She felt her cheeks flush, because she realized this meant a great deal to her. "Did you base your character on me?!"

Rachel blushed too, and Lauren knew she still felt the same way about her that she felt about Rachel. "Yup. I missed you so bad I had to imagine you as a warrior elf to talk to you."

It was all she'd ever wanted to hear, but the confession also didn't make sense, and it made her so angry she burst into tears. "Why didn't you call me? You could have called me! I was waiting for your call!" she cried, realizing she hadn't been okay with Rachel's radio silence after all, even all these years later; grief at all the missed time had ripped jagged new holes in her, and the pain of it was frightening.

"I'm sorry," Rachel moaned in embarrassment. "The number you gave me was on a slip of paper, remember? I had it in my jeans, and I think my mom washed the jeans with it in the pocket, and I couldn't salvage it."

Lauren didn't think she could be any more shocked at the ludicrousness of what Rachel was saying. This made even less sense. "So, all this time it was a laundry accident that kept us from staying in touch? I missed you! I thought you didn't want to talk to me anymore!"

She was sobbing now and feeling ashamed of herself; what must the others be thinking?

"I'm sorry, oh, Lauren, I'm so sorry," Rachel said, stumbling over to console her.

Lauren couldn't help herself, she threw her arms around her, and Rachel hugged her hard, and it felt so good to finally have her best friend back, really back; not some forty-something down and out divorcee suffering from scandal, but the girl she'd hugged that last day they were together, their hands slipping below their waists to linger provocatively, making each other gasp at the potential of repeating that night Rachel had slept over, and they'd done things to each other that they couldn't quite explain. The girl with the pink t-shirt, jean shorts and skinned knees, who'd coerced them into helping her in her quests to make money and, as a result, had led them into adventures that were the defining moments of Lauren's childhood. The girl who'd looked upon her, the day they'd met, and seen, not some weirdo half-Asian tomboy to be shunned, but a valuable new member of their group, and had made her feel like she was home for the first time in her life. 

That was the way she felt now. She was home, with her, in this apartment she'd seen for the first time tonight, because it made no difference where they were, as long as they were together.

She felt Joe's hand touch her shoulder, but she ignored it; he wasn't even in the room, as far as she was concerned. None of them were. Only Rachel and her. She was finally back in her arms, and that was all that mattered.

Eventually, the two of them separated, and Rachel sat back beside Al while Lauren wiped her eyes. "Sorry, guys," Lauren said. "Didn't expect that to happen."

"No, it's good," Sunny said. "That was probably a long time coming. So, Rachel, was there more to your story?"

Rachel cleared her throat and said, "Yes. Right. When I discovered the digital version later in life, I got totally into it. I dominated it, actually, and so I pissed off a lot of guys who also play that game to escape reality, who expect women to act like damsels in distress in their fantasy world. Lorelei the Magnificent was no damsel in distress."

"You kept using that character?!" Lauren said in amazement.

Rachel blushed again. "Why mess with a good formula? So, we got to exchanging trash talk on each other's social media, it's all connected with those games, and the trash talk turned into more serious shit, and I got scared off, which is what I think they wanted after all."

"Fuck them," Tej blurted, which surprised them all so much that they all started laughing.

"Yeah!" Rachel said. "Fucking trolls!" More laughing.

"Fucking boys in their fucking basements!" Lauren added, and Rachel suddenly started again, but covered by drinking more wine.

"Can we talk about my new burden now?" Rachel asked.

"Ah-ha!" Sunny said. "Now we're in my area of expertise. I'll be here to advise you every step of the way, Rachel."

Tej looked at her husband questioningly. Sunny turned to her and said, "The woman whose memorial I attended last week, Mrs. Anderson? My firm represents her estate, and her will stipulated Rachel be her executor."

Tej looked suitably horrified. "Did this woman hate you that much, Rachel?"

They all chuckled. Rachel winked at her. "Hate, love, sometimes it's the same thing, isn't it? But I do have some good news on that front. Al has agreed to help me organize everything, especially with the house."

"Fantastic!" Sunny said. "It's good to have a partner to share the load."

Rachel's hand closed on Al's and squeezed, and Lauren decided this new partnership was the reason for her nearness to him. She smiled a little. Poor Al was looking at her like a lovestruck puppy, and Lauren knew then that he'd never given up his crush on her. How could she blame him, when just now she'd rejoiced at being back in her arms? Well, if this project brought them closer together, she'd be happy for Al, and maybe a little jealous at all the time he'd be spending with her.

In the first novel of this series, I wrote this scene from Al's point of view. Having experienced life through Lauren's point of view this time, her emotional reaction to Rachel losing her phone number is better understood, as is her remark about beating up targets in nightclubs. If you liked what you just read, hit the "Vote" button and send this title up the ranks. Leave a comment and let me know what you think! To find out how Al's doing now that the police are officially involved, click on "Continue reading."