08 Trigger Snappy Read online

  "Both, or either."

  "Then no, everyone seems really pleased for us."

  "Okay, so what I see so far is you have a happy, supportive family and friends, you celebrated two big events recently, namely, getting engaged and moving here, and you have two more big life events coming up. One, your baby, which is still a secret; and the other, your wedding, which is public knowledge."

  Juliet nodded. "Yes."

  "How's your relationship with your fiancé?"

  "Fantastic! He's the kindest, sweetest man I know. He would move heaven and earth for those he loves; and he loves me and Robbie. He's thrilled to be a daddy again. I feel so lucky to have him in my life."

  "You mentioned earlier he thought the stalking could be stress-related?"

  "Yes, he's not convinced I'm being stalked, but..."

  "Go on."

  "I don't think he's convinced I'm not either. I've noticed he's being more watchful, and more careful."

  "How so?"

  "Little things, like... checking his keys are always in the same bowl on the console several times in the evening and... making sure I know exactly where my purse is, and how much money is in it... oh! And he's added extra security lights to the house and a home alarm system."

  I made a note of that in my notepad, careful to keep my expression impassive. Those were not the actions of an unconcerned fiancé and father, despite whatever he might have said to Juliet. Until I spoke to him, and investigated further, I didn't plan on frightening her, which I would have by suggesting he seemed to consider her stalker very real. I tried to react in a way that would not frighten her. Instead I said, "That sounds sensible."

  "He's a very sensible, practical man. I guess that's why I didn't get so worried until recently. Rob always found a perfectly rational solution to the things that were happening."

  I made another note with a large question mark next to her fiancé’s name. I didn't want to suspect it, but my training insisted that I did. Just because this Rob guy seemed like the perfect guy to Juliet didn't mean he wasn't insecure and controlling. Who really knew if he wouldn't stoop to terrifying a woman in order to dominate her? Again, it wasn't a thought I voiced to my client. He could also be just as concerned as she, and just as innocent. I hoped to confirm my original supposition about him that he was merely worried.

  "How long have you held your job?" I asked, glancing at my folder. She listed her job as finance manager. I wasn't sure what that meant.

  "Six years. Two years in the position I have now. I was promoted the same week we moved and got engaged actually."

  I looked up at the triple whammy good news. If someone were jealous of Juliet, her rush of good luck would definitely be seen as something despicable. It might have been two years ago, but someone could have let that jealousy fester. "Are you happy there?"

  "It can be a tough job at times, but I enjoy it. Yes, I'm happy."

  "Have you had any problems? An altercation with a colleague, for example, or your boss?"

  Juliet shook her head. "No, I've always gotten along with everyone just fine. I was promoted after some very hard work and over-achieving, to the tune of two hundred percent above target."

  "Was anyone else in the running for your job?"

  "Yes, a guy called Olly. When he didn't get the job, however, he left and started his own firm."

  "Do you think he became bitter about that?"

  "Not at all. He became a huge success and just sold it for fifty million."

  I dropped my mouth open. "Wow!"

  "I don't think jealousy crosses his mind now, not while he’s sailing the Mediterranean on his mega-yacht," laughed Juliet.

  "Poor guy!" I laughed along with her.

  "I know!" Juliet paused, the worry returning to her face. "Lexi, is any of this helping?"

  "It's a start," I told her truthfully, pausing my pen for a moment. "I'd like to speak to the people in your life. Perhaps they have some perspective that would prove useful to your case."

  "You mean like Rob?"

  "Yes, but also your family and close friends. Will that pose any problems?"

  "Not at all but my parents are away on vacation in Europe until a week before our wedding and my brother lives in Canada so he can't help. They'll probably find it thrilling to talk to a real PI."

  "Not everyone feels that way."

  "Well, you're helping me, so I don't think anyone will mind. Everyone knows what's going on, and how much it’s worrying me. That is..." Juliet trailed off.

  "Are they all being supportive?" I asked, my intuition telling me something was off.

  "Yes and no. They listen, but what can anyone of them say? It's just... everything seems so little and insignificant, you know? Like, individually, it's easy to say 'I forgot this' and 'I must have not remembered that' or 'it was a technical error,' but put them all together... And some friends won't even return my calls! Lexi, I'm either going out of my mind, or someone is deliberately doing this to me." Juliet sat up a little, looking around me. I heard a car door slam, realizing she caught sight of something behind me. Whatever it was didn't seem to panic her. "Here's Rob. Sweetheart, we're in here," she called as the door opened.

  "Hi," said the man who entered. He was six feet with dark red hair and a closely clipped beard. His eyes were warm green, and his face gentle. His suit looked expensive, as did his leather shoes.

  Juliet reached a hand out to him and he took it, giving me a worried look. "Sweetheart, this is Lexi Graves, the PI. I asked her to look into things for me."

  "Okay," he said, gazing from Juliet to me, apparently unsure what to say even if the news that I was a PI clearly came as no surprise. After a long moment, he held out his other hand and I rose to greet him, shaking it. "Sorry, I guess I was caught offguard. Juliet mentioned consulting someone. Are you able to help?"

  "I think so, but I can't promise anything."

  "How long will it take you to investigate?"

  "That's not a question I can answer. I'm going to look into Juliet's background and I'd like to run some surveillance on you, Juliet... with your permission," I added, turning to her.

  "Why on me?" she asked, frowning.

  "I'd like to see what goes on around you when you're unaware. Perhaps I can match a face from the grocery store to someone skulking outside your workplace, that sort of thing."

  Rob perched on the edge of the couch, next to Juliet and rested his arms on his crossed leg. "Forgive me for being so blunt, but isn't that kind of a crapshoot?"

  "I never said it was going to be easy. Statistically speaking, most stalkers are known to their victims; but sometimes, it's a total stranger. Based on what Juliet told me, I think if she has a stalker, and there's enough strong, anecdotal evidence to suggest she does, then it's most likely someone she interacts with on a daily basis, or someone who sees her regularly. Whoever it is regards Juliet as very important and someone they are personally connected to, although they might be relatively insignificant in Juliet's world."

  "So… it could be anyone?" Juliet asked, looking from me to Rob. "It could be a... a... grocery store clerk, or the man who walks the little dog past our house every morning... or... or..." she faltered.

  "Here's what we'll do to start," I began before Juliet panicked. "I need you to give me a list of all the incidents you remember, including where they took place, and the date and time, as much as you can recall. Additionally, I'd like a list of your friends and family members, and your employer, if any incidents happened there, plus the names of anyone you might have had any altercations with. I'm going to start looking into those events and see if there are any connections."

  "What about the surveillance?" asked Juliet.

  "I'll start in a couple of days, after I've mapped the stalking events. We can try coordinating your activities with past incidents to see if that sparks anything else in your memory."

  "Like retracing her steps?" asked Rob.

  I nodded. "Like that."

  "I can
email you everything within a couple of hours. I already started keeping a log," Juliet told me. "I really appreciate you taking this on. I can't live like this anymore, not when I feel so suspicious of everyone. I just don't understand why this is happening."

  "Don't worry about the why. Let me work on that. I'd appreciate the list as soon as it’s ready. You have my details."

  "I'll walk you out," offered Rob. "Do you think this is serious?" he asked after Juliet and I said our goodbyes and he walked me to the curb. It was entirely unnecessary in a safe neighborhood like this, but he obviously wanted to talk out of earshot, and I couldn’t turn the opportunity down. Rob could have valuable insights, and I needed everything I could get. Juliet was right about her stalker being anyone, but I still hoped I could find some connections in the incidents that she reported.

  "Could be," I said.

  "That's not a yes or a no."

  "My experience tells me Juliet isn't making this up. How someone is targeting her is the first thing I need to look into; and that should tell me who, and also why."

  "I must be honest with you. I convinced Juliet to see a therapist about all of this."

  "She didn't mention that."

  "She's embarrassed. She doesn't want anyone to think something is wrong with her... you know, mentally."

  "Do you think something is wrong with her?" I asked, searching his face for some kind of clue that he wasn't the supportive fiancé Juliet believed he was.

  Rob paused, his lips twisting at one side. "Juliet loves her work, but it can be highly stressful; and she's planning our wedding too. Did she tell you she's also pregnant? I think it's all too much for her. I'm worried that she's having some kind of delusional trance, and she's doing stuff without knowing she's doing it."

  "So why did you install the home alarm system?"

  He looked directly at me, and his face grew stern. No, not stern. Worried. He was desperately worried. "Because if I'm wrong, and I might be... if someone's doing this to her, then she could be in danger. I will do anything to protect her."

  "Anything?"

  "Anything."

  Chapter Three

  I wore pink pajamas with little, winged pigs printed on them. They weren't sexy, but very comfortable as I curled up on my couch, some toast on the plate next to me, and perused my notes. The more I thought about it, the more I decided this case wasn't the kind I could solve easily; but wasn't that what I wanted? Something juicy? Well, I asked and the universe delivered; this was going to be a tough one. From what Juliet told me, it seemed like her stalker was being very careful to mess with her, but in ways that were little, and almost insignificant, until, like Juliet said, all those little things combined together to make one very big problem.

  Grabbing my phone, I checked my emails one more time. Juliet still hadn't sent over the list and I wondered what was taking her so long. Perhaps the incident list was longer than she thought; or maybe she couldn't think of a single person who gave her unwanted attention to write down. From first impressions, she seemed a nice person, so I thought the latter was more likely the case. Switching off the email app on my phone, I checked my notes again.

  Written on the first sheet was Who? I followed it with spurned lover, ex partner, jealous friend, angry friend, angry or jealous relative, stranger. All, but the very last would be easier to investigate, and all warranted a big question mark. A stranger would take much more work and surveillance, and I lacked both the means and the opportunity to watch Juliet all day long. Gone were the days when I could tag team with a colleague on an in-depth job like this. I was on my own now, and that made it even tougher. I probably could have called Solomon and requisitioned one of my former colleagues, but pride stopped me. That, and the possibility that he could say no; I wasn't sure what I would do with that.

  I turned the sheet as I stuck the pen in my mouth, chewing the plastic tip. Why? That was almost impossible to answer. Stalkers rarely needed any reason. Anything could set them off; and sometimes, they didn't even realize they were doing it, or so I'd heard them claim. Sometimes, they even thought the attention was warranted, as if it were a fun game that their victim secretly enjoyed. I added a big question mark to the whole page and started a new sheet.

  This time I wrote How? Did the stalker have access to Juliet's home? If so, how did he or she acquire keys? Builder? I wrote. Then, tradesman? I planned to ask Juliet about that. If she had any work done on her home, perhaps she trusted her workers to come and go, giving them plenty of opportunity to access her house and her car keys. Car keys? I wrote on the next line. Juliet claimed someone moved her car. It seemed unlikely that a thief would steal her key, then her car, only to park it several spots away. The purpose of moving her car only spaces away purely to mess with her seemed more probable. Yet with only two sets of car keys, and the other set being held by her fiancé who was ostensibly out of town, I had to assume either her key was copied, or the other key was stolen at some point and returned without either Juliet or Rob noticing.

  Flipping through my notes one more time, I felt a cold shiver blast through my torso. For the stalker to have succeeded in all the creepy, little games I knew about so far, they had to be really smart and really sneaky to avoid getting caught. Most likely, they were growing very confident in their harassment. Far from being a Mom-and-Pop case, I knew I had my work cut out.

  Much as I wanted to stay in my pajamas, under a blanket and eating toast all day, I couldn't. Juliet depended on me to help her end this creep’s fascination with her and I had more investigating to do.

  Heading upstairs to the bedroom in my bungalow's attic space, I cast off the pajamas and reached for sky blue pants, a cute, white sweater and cream flats, perfect for whatever kind of day I might end up having. My notes safely in my purse, and my mascara superbly applied, I checked my reflection in the mirror one last time. I had to remind myself not to be so vain before heading out to my car. I pointed it in the direction of the coffee shop where Juliet's car mysteriously moved four spaces over. If I were lucky, I might find someone who could remember Juliet, or the car.

  The coffee shop was quiet this midweek morning and the parking lot that serviced it, along with a hardware store, a travel agent, and a couple of smaller businesses, was almost empty. Like Juliet, I parked in front of the fire hydrant. For a few minutes after parking, I simply watched what was going on in and around the glass-fronted coffee house. The lunch crowd hadn’t started filtering in, and it wasn't a large enough establishment that parents with strollers could meet and chat. A few people passed by, shopping bags in hand, and a couple of loud guys in suits jostled each other on the sidewalk before entering the coffee house. They returned only minutes later with takeout cups. I saw my cousin walking the beat and we waved. I didn't see anyone overtly suspicious, but that didn't surprise me.

  Climbing out of the car, I walked across the small lot and entered the coffee shop via a glass door. I ordered a latte to go. While I waited for the server to assemble my drink, I took in the painted wood tables and knock-off designer chairs. There was a notice board near the entrance with flyers for local businesses, hobby clubs, and tutoring services. Standing by the notice board, I couldn't see the fire hydrant or my car, so I walked a few steps forward. The two became visible once I reached the tables situated by the window. One was occupied by a pair of women who looked like a mother and daughter, but the other tables were empty.

  "Latte for Lexi," called the server.

  "Thanks so much," I replied when I reached the counter, hoping the bored look on the server’s face meant she'd be happy to indulge in a little gossip. "I had to check my car was still there. You know, my cousin’s car was stolen from just outside last week!"

  "No! That's awful," she murmured, giving me a sympathetic look. "Did she get it back?"

  "No. She had to take the bus all the way home."

  "That sucks."

  "I don't suppose you have any security cameras here? Maybe looking over the parking lot? The in
surers say they need more information, or they might not pay out. I'd hate for that to happen to someone else too."

  "No, sorry."

  "Not even one inside?

  Again, she shook her head. "Maybe we should. I'll mention it to my manager. He had his car stolen last year from right outside his house."

  "Good idea. He wouldn't want his customers to be worried about someone stealing his customers’ keys while they ordered coffee. Really bad for business." I pretended to browse the glass case of muffins and cakes. The server pulled a face as my story sunk in.

  "Is that what happened? Ohmygosh!"

  I nodded. "Yeah. Thieves are so brazen. She thinks they got the keys from her purse when she sat down to drink her coffee."

  "Oh, wow! That really is awful," she said, looking around to see if anyone was listening. The two women were deep in conversation and oblivious to us. "I'll definitely mention it, but you know, we have a sign over there saying we're not responsible for customer belongings. I don't want to get into any trouble, and if your cousin is going to sue..."

  "Oh no, no, of course not. She doesn't blame you guys one bit. I just thought I'd ask," I scrambled for words, knowing I was losing her the moment she began to deny any wrongdoing and started worrying about covering her own ass. "Do you have a bathroom?"

  "At the end of the corridor," she said, pointing to the rear of the counter before turning to address the next customer. Stepping around the corner of the counter cut my car from view and partially obscured the window tables. A few more steps, and the window tables were obscured too. By the end of the corridor, I couldn't see any of the seating area except for the small table closest to the door. The rear exit was locked and the bathroom was windowless.

  The only exit was through the front door. If Juliet's keys were lifted and replaced while she was in the small coffee shop, how could she not have noticed anyone? They had to have bumped into her twice.

  Back in my car, the coffee cup deposited in the cup holder, I called her.

  "Can you speak privately?" I asked when she answered.