Текст книги "Trigger Snappy"

Автор книги: Camilla Chafer

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Chapter Eighteen

"I don't think anyone lives here."

We were parked across the street from the address issued on Juliet's missing parcels. The house lay on the outskirts of Harbridge, and looked like it had been vacant for several years. The front windows were boarded up, and the door had the remains of crime scene tape fluttering across the architrave, something that didn't strike me as a positive sign. A fat, ginger cat sat on the stoop, licking its paw. Getting to its feet, it meandered down the steps before quickly disappearing into the thick undergrowth.

"Someone might live here," said Solomon. He lowered his camera and quickly checked through the series of photos he snapped. "People live in all kinds of conditions. Not everyone is house proud."

"This doesn't look like the residence of someone who steals credit cards to order Tory Burch purses," I clarified. "Perhaps they just use it as a free mailbox."

"Stay here and I'll find out."

"But..." I started.

"You promised you would stay in the car."

"I..."

"Lexi," warned Solomon, with a pointed look to my wound.

"Fine. I'll stay in the car." I watched Solomon climb out and stroll across the road, pushing his way through a chain link gate. Meanwhile, I wished I’d asked him to look out for any nice purses lying around, along with criminals. He peered through the windows and walked around the side of the house, temporarily out of my view. I waited a few nervous minutes for him to reappear before his silhouette appeared in the windows and he knocked on the door. No one answered. He waited another minute, then retreated back to the sidewalk, walking over to the nearest neighbor's house. I couldn't see who answered, but he seemed to speak to someone. He nodded and strolled back to the car, like we were in no hurry to catch my gun-stealing assailant.

"The neighbor says it's empty," he confirmed, climbing back into the driver's seat. "Apparently, it's just been sold. Before that, she said someone came by every couple of weeks to check on the place."

"Our stalker?" I asked hopefully. "Did she see her?"

"She said it was a guy from a real estate agency."

"Was he carrying a nice purse?"

"She didn't say."

I deflated. "Probably not our stalker... unless he has a secret fashion fetish."

"Don't let your ideas run away with you. I asked if she'd ever seen a woman around Juliet's height and build, and she said no."

"We could stake out the house."

"There's no point. We should assume the stalker knows we're combing Juliet's financial records and would find this address, if not now, then very soon. Plus, with the house now sold, she won't come back here."

"How can I tell Juliet another lead went dead?"

"Don't mention it. Focus on your fantasy wedding plan instead while I double-check the realtor's background."

"Do you think he knows our stalker?"

"Could be. Someone knows about this vacant house, and accepts deliveries here without arousing suspicion."

"If you can take me to my car, I can head over to Juliet now."

"Sure thing."

"Meet you at my house for dinner at seven."

Solomon gave one last, cursory check over the vacant house before pulling out onto the quiet street. "Want me to bring anything?"

"No, I have it all covered."

"Really? Everything?"

"Oh, ye of little faith. Yes, I have it all covered. I did all the grocery shopping and I have a meal plan."

Solomon nodded approvingly. "I'm impressed."

Me too, I thought, but I didn't say it since that would only have ruined my confident image. Far better to let everyone assume I had things under control. I'd have been a lot happier, however, not to be preparing food. I felt so sore from the stitches, and hated to think I was about to become the prime topic of conversation; but I offered to take over family dinner night, and I intended to follow through. I figured with the large number of people in my family, that meant my turn wouldn't come around again for a while, at least, not before my parents' kitchen got fixed. My only mission was to prepare a meal of a sufficient quality that my family would not only be suitably amazed, but also feel compelled to outdo me. Comforted by my fresh plan, and imagining several months of delicious, home-cooked meals to look forward to, I smiled all the way back to my car.

~

Juliet and Rob were playing chess in the living room. I knew how to play chess, but with nowhere near the level of concentration and apparent skills they both portrayed as they surveyed their next moves. "Who's winning?" I asked, taking a cursory, albeit clueless, glance at the chessboard.

"Hard to say," said Rob, "it could go either way."

"Oh, c'mon, it's obvious you're going to take my bishop. I’ll have to defend with my rook, which will leave my queen wide open!" said Juliet, squinting at the board, apparently far calmer than I would have been after her ordeal.

Rob laughed. "Now, it's obvious."

"Not anymore, buster! Now that I know your game, I can change it."

"Speaking of game changers," I said, wondering if I should hover beside them or just invite myself to sit down, "I have one for you."

Juliet glanced up. "Does it involve our house being invaded again? We already changed the alarm code, and I've been reassured the cameras all work properly now."

"They do," I replied, glancing over my shoulder and giving the camera a wave. A moment later, my cell phone beeped. "Delgado says hi," I told them. It beeped again. "He says not to keep looking at the cameras."

"It's hard when I know they're there," said Juliet. "I can't help it."

"Try to ignore them."

"She's right. We mustn't let anyone else know they're there," said Rob.

"Really? It's not like we have guests!"

I tightened my jaw, preparing to explain my plan, which I hoped they wouldn't hate. "Actually, about that. I have a plan..."

"Your plan," interrupted Rob. "Lexi, last night I went out for a couple hours for a business meeting that I couldn't get out of; and while I was out, this maniac broke into our home and went after my fiancée with an ax! I don't dare leave her side for a minute. I am terrified for her. Do you understand that?"

I did. Unfortunately after enduring a break-in at my own home, I knew exactly how it felt. Naturally, I understood the wave of anger emanating from him. "I do and I came as fast as I could when Juliet called."

"And we appreciate that, but it doesn't change the fact that this maniac disarmed you before shooting you with your own weapon and then shooting our friend, whom you fingered as the number one suspect! It also doesn't change the fact that I had to watch an ax getting unwedged from our bathroom door and sealed in an evidence bag! Or that last night, our house looked like a crime scene! Or that someone we don't know, but are sorely paying for, is watching our every move, every single minute of the day. It doesn't diminish the inconvenience or necessity for me to send my little boy over to his grandparents’ house for the week, because his mom got shot while coming by to check on Juliet! Tell me you can do something about all of that, Lexi, because we need to know what that might be."

"Rob..." Juliet placed a settling hand on his arm. He stopped, and took a deep breath before he continued, "All you can tell us is that you think Juliet's stalker is a woman and no one can corroborate that. I don't want you to take another penny from my fiancée if you can't stop what is happening to her... to both of us."

"We're very close," I started.

"The bathroom door can testify to that!" Rob sighed.

My aching wound told me that too, but I decided now wasn't a good time to mention it. I didn’t want Rob's sympathy, not that he would even give me any, and it would have been yet another unpleasant reminder that everything he said was correct. Someone eluded our defenses and disarmed me. It was a disaster.

"I understand how horrifying this must be for you both. I really do. Last night, we came incredibly close to apprehending the stalker; but she was a little too fast, and too ready for us. Next time, that won't happen."

"We don't want there to be a next time," Juliet said softly.

"We have enough evidence to get the police to drop the charges against you," I told them, switching to more positive news.

Juliet's head shot up. "You do?"

"Yes. Solomon and I combed the computer records; we cross-referenced them with your log-in and log-out times, as well as those times with your access pass. We've found several conflicting instances where we have you on camera at another location at almost exactly the time you're supposedly logging on to your work computer, or sending an email, or making a trade. We can substantiate that evidence with pings from cell phone towers for your cell phone too. We already know you didn't do the things you were arrested for." I had high hopes in handing over the file Solomon and I collated, along with some very helpful photos Lucas obtained from ATM and traffic cameras. I just hoped Donahue wouldn't dismiss it.

Juliet gasped and reached for Rob, her eyes suddenly bright and hopeful. "And it's enough to convince Detective Donahue it wasn't me?"

"Yes. It's enough. The person who set you up is smart, very smart, but even they can't make you invisible. They just didn't think we'd find you elsewhere."

"What about all those purchases from my home computer?"

"That's going to be harder to prove, as we can't show you left the house at those times, or that someone accessed your home computer remotely. We're still looking into whether your work computer was hacked remotely."

"There is a remote log-in for when I work away from the office, but it's supposed to be secure... So I'm still in the hole for all those purchases? All those wedding things?" Juliet's shoulders dropped.

"We can take the financial hit, honey. You're not going to jail, and that's the most important thing."

I perched on the edge of the couch, resisting the urge to check my wound while trying not to wince as the skin tightened. "Rob's right. You won't go to jail, but I think we might be able to find a way to get those purchases returned once we can prove to the stores you were being targeted by a stalker. If we can get the financial crimes unit to back it up, you'll have enough evidence to claim fraud. Until then, I have another idea."

"Such as?" asked Juliet, darting a glance at Rob.

"We're working on ways to identify the stalker, but we want to make the stalker come to us. Last night, we were caught offguard. This person was fully prepared in case she got interrupted and she knew how to evade us. We want to make sure she can't do that again. Like you said, Juliet, you're a sitting duck while you're here under house arrest. It's time to use that, and all the things your stalker bought, to our advantage."

"I don't understand."

"How do you feel about getting married?" I asked.

"Strongly," said Rob.

"We intend to. We thought we might have to postpone it, but everything can go ahead now," added Juliet.

"I meant, how do you feel about getting married a bit sooner? Like, a lot sooner?"

"We already paid the deposit on the venue," said Rob. "It's been booked for months."

I knew I had to be more specific. "How about this weekend, here, at your house?"

"What? Our wedding?" Juliet frowned.

"Yes, your wedding," I confirmed. "You have everything you need. You have dresses, flowers, suits, shoes, decorations. You have everything you need to stage a fake wedding."

"You have to explain," said Rob. "I don't understand. Weddings. Fake weddings. What does this have to do with anything?"

"Everything. Juliet, your stalker doesn't want you to be happy. She’s trying to do everything she can to interfere with that. She tried to take your job, as well as your freedom. She meddled with your finances. She alienated your friends and co-workers. I'm sure she caused more than one argument between you and Rob." The two exchanged a glance. Rob's guilty, silent gulp confirmed exactly what I suspected. "I thought so," I continued, "So far, what she hasn't done is split you up; but sending you to jail would do just that. Except, it's not going to happen! Now we're going to give her one last chance to try and take away the last promising event you have; and what better way to do that than to have her ruin your wedding?"

"Our fake wedding, this Saturday," said Juliet, frowning as she latched onto the plan.

Rob stroked a hand across his chin, and worry lines marred his forehead and eyes. "Just how do you think she'll do that?"

"I don't know, but I can bet you she will either be on your invite list, or do anything she can to get invited. She'll attend and do everything she can to split you two up for good."

"How can you be so sure?" asked Juliet.

"Because it's pretty hard to split up two people who've been through hell, are expecting a baby, and tying the knot. That's a couple who are never going to split up," I told them.

"Honey?" Rob said, reaching for Juliet's hand.

She grasped it in hers, the pair of them holding hands right next to Juliet's queen on the chessboard. "It's the ultimate chess move, right?" she said. "The ultimate bluff?"

"The ultimate bluff," I repeated, agreeing with her. "You need to put on a good show."

"Tell us what to do," she said, her eyes never leaving Rob's face. Whether she spoke to him or me was immaterial; what mattered now was the fight I glimpsed in her eyes. "Let's end this by beating her at her own game, and playing much better than she ever could."

~

By the time I left them in the house, we'd already unpacked a large number of the boxes. We arranged all the chairs, after decorating them in chiffon ribbons and pretty silk flowers, by the French doors, ready to put into rows in the garden. In the guest bedroom, far from the mangled remains of the bathroom door of her bedroom, Juliet tried on several of the dresses she could barely stand to look at before. She had to admit some were even to her taste. We accessorized from a selection of the many hair clips, bracelets and necklaces that also arrived, and tried on several shoes and veils. If she weren't my client, I would have to admit having a lot of fun with a good friend. Finally, on my way out, Rob pulled me gently to one side. He suggested I remove the veil, and thanked me for making Juliet laugh, at last. I thought leaving her confident and determined was the least I could do, after all the fear she already had to endure.

Caught in a long stretch of traffic snaking through Century Street, I was already running late by the time I reached my pretty, yellow bungalow. Solomon's SUV was nowhere in sight, and crucially, neither was my parents' car. I got out of my VW, jogging towards the house, and jumping over a sleeping Barney on my porch, before dashing inside to set the oven to preheat.

Ingredients covered the surfaces as I emptied the refrigerator and set about chopping vegetables. I took out the bowls and filled them with a variety of chips and dips I purchased. When a pair of arms circled my arms and crossed over my chest, I could barely conceal a squeal. "Jeez, John! I nearly stabbed you with my knife. I could have killed you!" I protested, dropping the knife onto the wooden board.

"With a paring knife? Why are you using that for slicing?"

"I can't find a better one."

"Like this one?" he asked, sliding a chopping knife from under a pile of carrots. "What are you doing?"

"Making carrot sticks. Healthy and nutritious and organic. It says so on the bag."

"Are we only eating carrot sticks for dinner?"

"No! I have several cuts of meat and potatoes and vegetables. And Garrett's bringing cake. Ohmygosh! Garrett is not bringing cake! Sam has chicken pox so they're staying at home. What do I do about dessert? Hand me the flour."

"No."

"It's right there!" I pointed to the shelf.

Solomon pointed to the clock. "Your guests are due in twenty minutes."

"No!" I glanced to the clock, blanching.

"Yes."

"How did that happen?"

"I could explain time, but I'm sure you learned clock-reading in kindergarten."

"Ha-ha. What do I do? The beef won't cook in twenty minutes! And the roasted potatoes take forty minutes at least. I'm screwed! I'll never live this down. I'll be the Graves failure all over again!" I squealed.

"They'll forget."

"They're Irish stock and this is food. They will never, never, John, never forget!"

"I can fix this."

I surveyed the kitchen. Not only was it a huge mess, but also a terribly unproductive mess. It would take twenty minutes at a minimum to clean it; and I still wouldn't have enough to feed my expectant and ravenous family. "I'm a failure."

"You're not a failure."

"Yes, I am," I wailed. "I wanted such good results. I wanted to make an effort and feed everyone, without anyone going hungry or dying of food poisoning."

"You must go to some strange dinner parties if that's your description of a good result."

The mess in the kitchen didn't spell good result to me and I looked around, swallowing hard. There was no way to fix this. Solomon was being way too calm while my heart thumped loudly in despair. On the plus side, I had enough carrot sticks and hummus to feed a small army.

"Go upstairs, and take a shower and get changed," Solomon instructed, taking me by the shoulders and guiding me out of the kitchen. "I'll fix this."

"It's hopeless. There's a takeout menu on the fridge. If we order now, we can put things into serving dishes and hide the evidence before anyone gets here."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

"But..."

"Shower, now."

I made a funny grunting noise, but conceded defeat before stomping up the stairs with all the grace of a depressed sloth. Closing the door to my bedroom, I tossed my day's clothes in the hamper and laid out clean pants and a blouse. Midway through my shower, wafts of something delicious alerted my senses. It wasn't my shower gel. I dried and arranged my hair into a sleek ponytail, and attended to my wound, before getting dressed. Slipping my feet into flats, the mouth-watering aromas continued to make my stomach rumble.

Solomon was carrying dishes to my small dining table by the time I arrived downstairs. A stack of plates, interwoven with napkins, lay on the table, and another dish held the flatware. A vase filled with pretty, fresh flowers served as the centerpiece amidst several hot dishes. "How could this happen?" I asked, breathlessly in wonder.

"It's easy when you know how."

I pointed to the vase. "Where did the flowers come from?"

"Your garden."

"And all this food?"

"You bought it. I just prepared it."

"But it looks like a dinner party!"

Solomon laughed. "That's the idea. Easy fork buffet."

"You're perfect. Too perfect, John. You're unreal. And you saved the day."

"Not exactly the first time," said Solomon as the doorbell rang.

"I will never forget this," I told him, kissing his cheek before I crossed the hallway to open the door. My parents stood on the porch and my mother looked appalled. "We should never have left you to your own surveillance! You got shot again!" she admonished me before reaching out and pulling me against her in a rib-crushing hug. My side winced.

"Barely," I muttered, through gritted teeth.

"Did you shoot back?" asked my father, holding a digital tablet and a large bag in one hand, and a bottle of wine in the other.

"No."

"Is it true the shooter used your own weapon on you?" he continued.

"Kind of."

Dad tutted. "What were you thinking, Lexi?"

"Alexandra wasn't thinking, were you, Alexandra?" My mother shook her head as she relieved Dad of the bag he carried and thrust it into my hand. "We brought you a vest, dear, and it's not for keeping warm. It's made of Kevlar."

I peeped into the bag and grinned. "Thanks!"

"Don't look so happy. It's to discourage you from getting shot again, not to encourage you." Mom steamed past and cuffed Solomon on the head.

"Ow!" he said, ducking too late. "What was that for?"

"For letting my daughter got shot."

"I wasn't there."

"Exactly! When are you going to give Lexi her job back? Hmmm?"

"I..."

"Shot, John! My daughter was shot!" my mother yelled.

"Only a little bit," I murmured, holding my thumb and forefinger millimeters apart. "And I don't want..."

"Be quiet, young lady. You were shot!"

"I know. I felt it. You don't have to keep saying it."

"Your job is dangerous! This never happened when you worked as a temp."

"Lexi can come back to work with me anytime," said Solomon.

Mom turned to me, her face determined and proud, like she magically fixed everything. "There! See? You have your job back."

"I have a job, Mom, and I'm working it." After today, I was pretty impressed with myself too. I had hard evidence to show Detective Donahue and a solid plan in play. It was only a matter of time until we had the real perpetrator in cuffs.

"No job is worth getting shot at," murmured my dad.

"No job is worth getting shot at," said my mother over the top of him.

"Unless someone else's life is at stake." I crossed my arms in an act of defiance. My mother glared at me; and I glared back. I probably wouldn't have won, given how badly my gunshot wound ached as the torn skin knitted itself back together. Besides, I really needed a drink, but I was also fully committed to giving the glaring contest my all.

"Your life would be safer if you worked with your boyfriend," Mom pointed out.

"How?" I wondered aloud, thinking back to all the cases Solomon and I worked. There were some distinctively unsafe cases.

"You would have backup."

That was a hard point to argue with. Mom was right. Working alone, I didn't have backup to readily call upon, but I did have backup that night. "I had backup," I told her. "Maddox."

"Where were you?" Mom asked, narrowing her eyes at Solomon. "She had to call her ex for backup. Do you ever seriously want to get married?"

The tablet in my father's hand chirped, and my dad grinned. "Look who's on the screen!" he said, turning the tablet around. My nephew and niece, Sam and Chloe, waved at me. Sam was speckled with chicken pox.

"Can I see your gunshot wound?" asked Sam.

"Can we see through it?" asked Chloe.

"Yeah!" yelled Sam. "Can I put a straw right through you?"

Garrett's face loomed onto the screen. "You have the right to remain silent," he said. "Please exercise that option." He slid out of view, leaving two disappointed looking children staring expectantly at me.

"No, you can't put a straw through me," I told them, and their faces fell a little more. It was hard to disappoint them. No, wait, it was pretty easy.

"I told you that was a dumb question," said Chloe to Sam.

"Can we see the bullet?" asked Sam.

"No, sorry. It's in evidence."

"Dad says if you get shot anymore, you can make a necklace out of all the bullets."

"I! Did! Not!" yelled an off camera Garrett.

Sam pushed his face against the screen. "He did," he whispered loudly, his tongue darting out to lick the screen.

"He did. He definitely did," added Chloe, pushing her brother out of the way. "He said, you'll be so holey, you'll never need to go to church again."

"We have to go," I told the kids. "I wish you were here. This has been so much fun!"

"Dad says we can video call your phone. He gave us your number," said Sam.

I sucked in a deep breath. "Tell him I said thanks." I waved.

"We will. Bye, Aunty Holey Lexi!"

"Bye!" I waved until the screen went dark.

"Something smells nice," said Mom. "Did you do this, Solomon?"

"We teamed up," said Solomon.

"So you can team up to make dinner, but you can't work together, live together, get married, or have a baby?" asked Mom. "The only thing you can commit to is food?"

"That's right," I said, nodding. I wondered if I were only agreeing with her, or simply deflecting the other things that could be in my future. Once again, I thought of Solomon's suggestion that we live together.

I liked having him on my team; I just wasn't sure about working for him again. If we were also living together, where would my independence be? Plus, last time I made a full commitment to someone, falling head over heels in love with Maddox, I spotted him with another woman and saw red, ending us. Even now, long past that event, I believed Maddox when he said it was a huge misunderstanding, but the pain of that moment still stung. The big commitment before that was when I got engaged and it turned out horribly, terribly wrong. My brief stint in the Army was testimony to that. I wondered if third time lucky lay in my future.

All of a sudden, it was clear. Solomon wasn’t my stumbling block. Or the loss of independence. Or gaining independence while living with someone who was truly on my team. It was none of those things, but rather, the fear that something I deeply wanted might end. I made mistakes before, was easily duped before, and I knew it could easily happen again. As I looked up at Solomon, waiting for his question again, waiting for him to make me that offer again, I knew I didn't want to lose him too. Living together could work. We wouldn't even have to make it work, we could just do it, and eventually, the fear should recede. Now was the time I realized, as I turned to look up at him. Now I knew what I would say.

"Lexi can have her job back anytime," said Solomon, answering the question I didn't expect to hear, "Lexi? Do you want your job back?"