MarvelousCon & Tax Cons Read online

  MarvelousCon & Tax Cons

  Time Travelling Taxman, book 3

  by Rachel Ford

  Chapter One

  Alfred Favero frowned. “You want me to go to what, now?”

  “MarvelousCon,” Nancy Abbot answered.

  “Yes, I heard that. But what is MarvelousCon?”

  “It’s a convention celebrating Marvelous Detective Comics. Well, not just them. All things geeky.”

  He groaned. “Oh. A nerd fest.”

  She grinned. “You’ll fit right in. Especially if you match my cosplay.”

  “Your what?”

  “Cosplay. I was thinking I’d be Jadzia – Dax, from Star Trek – and you could be Spock. You know, from The Original Series. He was-”

  He raised a hand to halt the detour into further explanation. He was not such a Luddite as to be completely unfamiliar with the show that arguably spawned modern sci-fi. That he couldn’t stand it was another matter. “Just because I have taste doesn’t mean I don’t know who the characters are.” He frowned. “But, wait a minute, wasn’t Jadzia from a different series?”

  “Yes,” she nodded. “But that’s okay. She thought Spock was cute.”

  “She did?”

  “Yes. She saw him when they crossed back in time, in episode-”

  “Never mind.” He was sorry he asked. “My point is, that’s stretching.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, grinning. “But Jadzia’s my favorite character, and you remind me of a Spock.”

  “I do?”

  “You do. Smart, tall, cute, too serious for your own good…and, you’ll look good in pointy ears…”

  He frowned. “You don’t think I’m more a Captain Kirk type?” In his mind, the daring captain of the Enterprise seemed a better match than a reedy science officer.

  She laughed, until she realized he was serious. Then, forcing an apologetic soberness onto her features, she said, “Not particularly. But if you do, we can definitely go that route.”

  His frown, though, had deepened. “I didn’t say I was going to do it anyway. I just don’t think I’m a good match for the Vulcan.”

  She smiled, leaning over to peck him on the cheek. “See? You’re learning.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You knew Spock was a Vulcan.” She raised an eyebrow. “I’ll bet you didn’t know that before you started dating me.”

  “No,” he admitted. “I didn’t. But I still like you anyway.” He grinned and she laughed.

  “Well? What do you think? I’ve already got the hotel – I had to reserve that months ago. And the package I got came with a guest ticket. All you’ll have to do is come with me.”

  “And wear a silly costume,” he reminded her.

  “It won’t be silly. And you’ll be dashing.”

  He harrumphed. “In pointy ears?” Still, a part of him preened, just a little. “I don’t know.”

  “Well,” she said, leaning over to kiss him again, this time on the lips, “think about it, alright?”

  He smiled. “Alright.”

  “I better get going, or we’re both going to be late.”

  He nodded. They were in the entry to his house, spending their last free moments of the morning with each other. Now, she’d head to work in her own car, and he’d head in in his a few minutes later. Everyone knew that they were dating, but they’d decided they didn’t need to feed the office gossip mill any more than strictly necessary. So when he spent the night at her house, or she at his – and that was most nights now – they’d arrive separately.

  How serious things had gotten might just have been the worst kept secret in their department’s history, though. The sight of Nancy was like a shot of dopamine straight to his veins. Even Director Caspersen had commented on his habit of grinning stupidly at her approach. But it wasn’t just Caspersen.

  Nancy’s decision to date one of the number crunchers – how those in IT referred to analysts like himself – wasn’t well received by residents of the nerd bunker – the name analysts like himself gave the IT wing. Nancy was team lead for the department’s Information Technology crew, and some of her subordinates saw dating one of the number crunchers as – in her words – “going over to the dark side.”

  For his own part, Alfred’s interest in Nancy had attracted the particular attention of his next-door office neighbor, Justin Lyon. It had been annoying before they were actually dating, but once they were official, the other analyst’s nosiness had seemed to go into overdrive. His first reaction to the news had been, “Well Freddie, this is a first for you, isn’t it? An interoffice romance, I mean?” He’d followed it up with, “Hell, she’s got to be your first girlfriend since I started here. And that was twelve years ago.”

  Nowadays, Alfred took the long way to his office, just so he wouldn’t pass Justin’s door and be subjected to his commentary. Like a snake adapting to a changing environment, though, Lyon had evolved keen hearing that seemed to sense his particular step so it was rare to go a morning without a, “How’s Freddie today?” or “Well, someone’s in a good mood.”

  Still, he tried. And when that failed, he’d remind his colleague, “It’s Alfred. I don’t do nicknames, remember?”

  He didn’t really care too much, though. Lyon had always been an irritant. A cruder man than Alfred might have called him a pain in the ass. But, disdaining such language, in his mind the taxman relegated his colleague to a pain in the buns. At the end of the day, being with Nancy, his own queen of the nerds, was worth putting up with anything Justin had to say.

  This morning was no different. He walked with a light step, and still heard the call of, “Freddie!” as he reached his office.

  “Morning,” he said, ducking inside quickly.

  Justin poked his head in a moment later. “How’s Nance today?”

  Alfred shrugged. “Ask her yourself. She’s on messenger.”

  “I just assumed you’d already seen her. Since you’re late.”

  Alfred frowned at Lyon, then at the clock. It was, he saw, three minutes after the hour. “I’m just glad,” he sniffed, “we’ve finally got through that backlog so you have so much time to devote to keeping tabs on me.”

  Lyon laughed, then glanced down the hall. “Oh, well look at that. Here she is. Morning Nance.”

  “Morning Justin.” It was said in a cordial way, but Alfred knew Nancy well enough to hear the dread in her tones.

  “Oh, is that for me?”

  “No, it’s not for you.”

  Justin affected a disappointed air. “Shucks.” Nance stepped into view now, two cups of coffee in hand, and he stepped out of the way just enough to let her squeeze past. “One of these days you’ll remember.”

  “Probably not.”

  He laughed again. “Well, I won’t keep you two. I’m sure you’ve got lots to discuss.” With a grin at Alfred, he added, “Gotta tackle that backlog, eh, Freddie?”

  “It’s Alfred,” the taxman reminded him with a sigh.

  Nancy shook her head after Justin had gone, and they exchanged a mutual grimace. Then, she handed him the coffee. “I picked one up for you.”

  “Thanks, Nance.” He took a sip and sighed. It was his signature latte – extra shot, extra sweet – and, as usual, she’d gotten it perfect.

  “No problem. Hey, I forgot to tell you, I’m may be late tonight.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. Josh has an interview, and his car’s still in the shop, so I’m driving him. I cleared it with Caspersen, so I’m heading out early. I’ll make the time up later.”

  Alfred frowned. Sergeant Joshua Stevenson was a mutual acquaintance. They’d met during the Futureprise’s investigation, when a time travel mishap had left Stevenson an
d his team stranded in the past. He had never particularly cared for the marine, but that was due more to his interest in Nancy than any actual character flaws. The fact that he and Nance had dated briefly solidified the taxman’s negative opinion of him. He would have been happy moving forward to see no more of Stevenson. But Nance’s friendship had not ended when the relationship did, so, like a bad case of the flu, the marine was a part of his life long after he’d expected him to be gone. “Oh. That’s…nice.”

  “Yeah. It’s a good job. He’ll be doing private security for the executive board at Mile Investments.”

  Being the human shield for a bunch of fat cats didn’t sound like a good job to Alfred, but he nodded anyway. “Great.”

  “I hope he gets it,” she continued. “He’s very excited.”

  “I would have thought Futureprise might have soured his taste for private security,” Alfred observed, adding, “Then again, he probably can’t handle anything else.”

  Nance frowned. “Josh is great at what he does.”

  “Hopefully Mild Investments thinks so,” he said, trying to muster enthusiasm.

  “Mile. And I think they will. He’s certainly got the experience.”

  “Yeah. Anyway, what are we doing tonight?”

  She shrugged. “Don’t know. We could try that new Greek place-” She cut off as her phone went off, then grimaced. “I’m getting paged. I better get. Let’s figure it out later, okay?”

  He nodded. “Alright.”

  “See you later, babe.” And with that, she was gone.

  Alfred frowned at his computer screen. He didn’t mind Nancy hanging out with her ex, of course. He trusted her, and he was far too mature for anything like insecurity or jealousy. But, still, something about their exchange bothered him. It was the presumption of Stevenson, he supposed. Couldn’t Josh just take a cab? his mind argued. What if Nance had plans? And, anyway, now that’s time she’s going to have to make up.

  A voice interrupted his thoughts. “Josh’s got an interview, eh?”

  Alfred scowled. “What, Justin?”

  “Josh. Nance was saying he’s got an interview. That that same Josh I met? The bodybuilder marine?”

  “Ex-marine,” the taxman snapped. “And he’s not a bodybuilder.”

  “He’s the one who was dating Nancy, though, right?”

  “He’s the one she broke up with, yes.”

  “Oh.” Lyon smirked. “Well, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, in that case.”

  “I’m not sure how it concerns you anyway,” Alfred declared pointedly.

  The other man shrugged. “You’re my friend, Freddie.” The taxman fixed him with a gaze intended to challenge the assumption. Justin seemed not to notice. “I don’t want to see you get burned.”

  “How considerate.”

  “All I’m saying is, the thing with hanging out with exes? That’s what my ex-wife did. Right before she moved in with the ex. And took me to the cleaners.” He shrugged. “I’m sure Nance isn’t that kind of person, but, you know…women are women.”

  “That’s a record,” Alfred said dryly, “even for you.”

  “What is?”

  “How many HR policies you violated in a single statement.”

  “Come on, man. You know what I’m saying. Just keeping it real.”

  “Don’t you have work?” Alfred wondered. “Because I do.”

  “Alright, alright. I’m just trying to look out for you, Freddie. But if you don’t want to hear it, I’ll shut up.” He raised his palms in an exaggerated placating fashion. “I can take a hint.”

  Chapter Two

  Alfred sat at his desk, his forehead furrowed into a deep frown. He was staring with unseeing eyes at his monitor. Somehow, despite his best efforts, he couldn’t shake Justin’s words. That’s what my ex-wife did. Right before she moved in with the ex.

  He knew it was stupid to be worried about Nance, of course. She’d only dated Josh for two weeks, and she’d been the one to call it off. It was stupid to worry.

  Of course it was.

  But, somehow, worry was what he did. He worried through the morning, as he skimmed the reports that came across his desk, as he half-heartedly responded to emails and disinterestedly put off voicemails.

  He was quiet and pensive during lunch as Nancy talked about MarvelousCon. He barely heard her as she asked him, “You know how Marvelous Detective Comics started, right?” When he didn’t answer, she prodded, “Alfred?”

  “Huh? Sorry, what?”

  She frowned. “You okay?”

  “Oh, yeah. Just thinking.”

  She reached across the table and took his hand, smiling. “Alright then. Penny for your thoughts?”

  “Oh, nothing important. Just one of the cases I’m working on. But you were saying – the comics. What about them?”

  She grinned. “MDC: Marvelous Detective Comics. Do you know how they started?”

  “No.”

  “It was a guy, Rick Ashworth, working in his basement, making parodies of popular comics. It started with Swell Dude, and then Arachnid Kid.”

  “Oh.”

  “And then he drew a panel that went viral. It caught the attention of investors, and MDC was really born. And in half a decade it went from his afterwork hobby to a billion-dollar industry.”

  “That’s…impressive.”

  “I’m boring you,” she grinned.

  “No. No, you’re not.”

  “You’re a shitty liar, Alfred.” She shrugged. “Which is definitely points in your favor. Still…what’s wrong, babe?”

  “Nothing, Nance. Nothing. I’m just tired. And thinking of work.”

  His mood probably should have, but didn’t, improve when two-thirty rolled around, and Nancy texted, “Heading out. Fingers crossed it’s a good gig. See you tonight, handsome.”

  It certainly didn’t lift his spirits that Justin stopped by around three-thirty, all solicitude. “Hey, Freddie. How’s it going?”

  “Fine.”

  The other man nodded, watching him with sympathy – and barely constrained curiosity. “Well. Good.”

  Alfred ignored him, turning back to his screen.

  “Nice weather, though.”

  “It is almost spring. It goes with the territory.”

  “Yeah. Still. Nice day.”

  “Yup.”

  “Well, I should probably get back to my desk.”

  “Probably…”

  “Alright then. Talk to you later, Freddo.”

  Alfred wondered in passing if he should keep a journal of his dealings with Justin. It might come in handy when I argue self-defense in the homicide trial.

  Still, the other man’s unwarranted solicitude made him reconsider, just a little, how unwarranted it really was. He found himself scrolling through Josh’s social media timelines, pausing at every picture of the square jawed marine beside Nancy. There were a lot of them. And she always seemed happy. There was a sparkle in her blue eyes, a smile on her face.

  Then again, she always looked happy in her pictures. Whether it was with Josh or her girlfriends, Nance’s inner joy radiated outward.

  It was her profile pictures that held his attention, though. They were shots with him. Alfred frowned at the images of himself grinning stupidly. But he smiled at her, at the sight of her arm wrapped around him, of her cheek pressed to his. She was gorgeous and happy; and hugging him. Not Josh; him.

  He was being absurd, he decided. Nance was his best friend, and he trusted her more than anyone. So he needed to act like it.

  He closed the app, and returned to his work. Five o’clock came around before he knew it, and he headed home with a lighter step. Five-thirty rolled around before he heard from Nancy. “Interview ran long, I’ll be there soon.”

  She was as good as her word, arriving just after six. “Sorry,” she said, kissing him by way of greeting, “that lasted longer than we thought it would. They were really impressed.”

  He nodded. “Good.”


  “Yeah. I hope you’re hungry. I grabbed food on the way back, from Fanelli’s.” She was carrying a bag of takeout.

  A heavenly smell wafted over him. “Is that eggplant parmigiana?”

  She grinned. “Yup.”

  “There go my plans for a beach body,” he sighed, feigning disappointment.

  “Your body,” she said, kissing him again, this time with a warmth that rather put dinner out of his mind, “is just fine how it is, Mr. Favero. Now come on, let’s eat before this gets cold.”

  They did, then Nancy produced another surprise. It was a DVD with a case insert that was clearly printed at home. It was emblazoned with word art that seemed to have been produced in the mid-nineties, and it read, “UFOs: Truth is Stranger than Fiction.” If the title alone wouldn’t have elicited a groan, the cheesy illustrations of humanoid figures with great, dark eyes that accompanied it certainly did.

  “I thought you’d like it,” she grinned.

  He nodded. Ever since the Landing Site Earth case, where he’d stumbled into the bizarre world of Ufology – and the even more bizarre crumbs of truth behind it – he’d developed a love of these awful, campy so-called exposés. It was a guilty pleasure, to be sure, but a pleasure nonetheless. He enjoyed seeing just how outlandish the conspiracies could get. “Where the hell did you find that? It looks like it was produced decades ago.”

  “Actually, this one was Josh,” she said. Alfred frowned as he powered on the DVD player. “I’d told him about the Tulli papyrus one we saw last week. No idea where he got it though.”

  “Oh.” He took a seat beside her on the sofa.

  She nestled closer, saying, “So, what mystifying truths do you think we’re going to learn this time?”

  “Who knows.” He didn’t feel like playing along, and so they lapsed into silence as the program rolled.

  A bright screen and loud music appeared, and a bespectacled man in a bad suit walked on set, introducing himself as a Professor Wooding. The professor promptly listed his credentials, which included a doctorate in Ufology from a university that Alfred was quite sure was unaccredited. He groaned. This was worse than he’d hoped.

  Nancy laughed. “Come now, you don’t trust the good doctor?”