Chapter 3

He was well on his way when Beckett’s indignant protest hit its highest pitch.2: Tuesday

“What day is it?” Doug grumbled as they strode swiftly across the lobby to the lifts.

“Tuesday,” Beckett muttered. He was still trying to button the bottom of his shirt properly; Doug had been groping him in the car during the journey to work. Glancing over, it galled him to see that Doug’s own jacket was neatly fastened. “Early staff meeting, seven-thirty. You know how it is. But we’re almost inevitably going to be late, and I’m still on warning from that offensive e-mail you sent to the Sales Director.”

“That was unintentional. Just my bad luck.”

Beckett raised an eyebrow. “Apparently that’s not the word you typed. Close, but a critical letter misspelled. And inserted rather neatly, just before the director’s name.”