S&S    S&S     S&S     S&S     S&S

 

     I waded through my second day of paperwork without A.J. there to grumble and complain to about such mundane tasks.  He'd been right when he'd called the previous morning and said we didn't have much goin' on at the office.  We didn't.  Which is why I assumed he decided it was a good time for him and Lauren to sneak off and get hitched.

 

     I was plannin' to call it quits early on Thursday bein' A.J. wasn't there to monitor my day, but then I got tied up with some phone calls.  I had no more than hung up from those, when a potential client walked in.  Since we could use the work, and the person seeking our services was female and attractive, I put my best foot forward and showed her to a chair.  By the time I'd determined what she needed Simon and Simon to do for her we'd been hired.

 

     I showed Miss Taylor to the door.  I watched her hips sway provocatively in her tight leather skirt all the way to elevator, gave her a smile and wave when she turned around, then reentered the office.  I flipped the answering machine on, added the bills that had come in the mail to the pile I'd begun the previous day on A.J.'s desk, then grabbed my field jacket and hat off the coat rack.

 

     I eased my truck into rush hour traffic.  I thought about what I had at home in the fridge and decided none of it sounded all that great.  I wheeled the Dodge into the parking lot of a strip-mall, hopped out, locked the door, and ambled toward a carryout Italian joint I favored. 

 

     I got in line behind a copper headed woman.  A copper headed woman who seemed awfully familiar.  Before I could get a look at her face I felt two small arms wrap around my waist.

 

     "Hi, Rick!"

 

     I looked down into a pair of bright blue eyes that were capped off by an unruly mop of hair the color of a cardinal.  "Hey, Red!"

 

     I reached down and swung the five-year-old up to my hip.  His auburn headed brother came runnin' over from the table they'd been sitting at. 

 

     "Hi, Rick!"

 

     I pulled Shane close and patted his back.  "Hi, kiddo."

     By now the woman had turned around to see what commotion her children were creating. 

 

     "Rick!"  Lauren exclaimed her surprise.  "What are you doing here?"

 

     "I was just about to ask you the same thing."

     "Getting supper for the boys and me.  But how about you?  I thought you were with A.J."

 

     "With A.J.?"

     "Yes.  On the case he's working on."

     "Case?"

     "Yes."  She hiked her purse strap up on her shoulder.  "He called me early yesterday morning to say he'd be out of town for a few days on a case.   I just assumed you were with him."

 

     Although I had no idea what my brother was up to, I acted as though I did.

 

"Uh...no.  I didn't go with him.  We have several cases pendin' right now so I uh...I stayed here."

 

     "Do you know when he'll be back?"

 

     "Uh...no. No, I don't.  Not for certain.  He'd didn't tell you?"

     "No.  He just said if it turned out he was going to be gone more than three or four days he'd call me."

 

     "Oh.  Then he probably will."

 

     She looked at me funny but nodded.  "Where is he?"

 

     "Where is he?"  My mind cast about for something to say other than, "Beats the hell outta me." 

 

     "He's...here and there.  Movin' around a lot.  I'm sure he'll fill you in when he gets back."

     My reply garnered me another odd look, as though the woman was tempted to reach out and lay a hand on my forehead to see if I was runnin' a fever.  I gotta admit that my answers sounded rather delirious and disjointed even to my own ears.

 

     Thankfully, Lauren's order number was called before she could ask me any further questions.  Shane and Tanner stayed with me as she weaved her way forward to pick up a pizza.  The boys reluctantly bid me goodbye while Lauren gave me the fast, preoccupied wave perfected by single working mothers who have a hundred chores to complete before the short night comes to an end.

 

     "Bye, Rick!"  Lauren called as she struggled to hold the door open for her kids.  "Boys, don't run out into traffic!  Wait right there on the sidewalk!"

 

     She turned back to me.  "Tell A.J. I said hi if you talk to him anytime soon." 

 

     "I will.  See ya,’ Lauren."

 

     As I waited for the opportunity to place my own order I mulled over what had just occurred.  Obviously A.J. wasn't off with Lauren gettin' married somewhere.

 

     So where the hell was he? 

 

     For a brief second I wondered if he was sneakin' around with someone else behind her back, but just as quickly I negated that thought.  A.J. would never do that to a woman he was seeing.  Never.  If the relationship had no future and he was ready to move on then he'd tell her so.  But never would he see someone else while allowing Lauren to believe she was the only lady in his life.

 

     I thought over what little Lauren had said.  A.J. had told her he was out of town working on a case, while he had told me he was gonna be visiting an old friend.  So which explanation was the truth?   And why would he feel the need to lie to one or both of us? 

 

     When you don't have nothin' better to do than return to your houseboat and share a meatball sandwich with your dog, you have a lotta free hours leftover to think.  By the time I was gettin' ready for bed at ten-thirty that night I had a helluva case of heartburn and was worried to death.  The only thing I could figure A.J. would feel the need to keep from both me and Lauren was something to do with his health.  By midnight I had myself convinced he was seriously ill, had gone somewhere to get answers or have more tests done, and for whatever reason didn't want his family to be a part of the process.

 

     Now that all sounds rather stupid, I'm sure.  I mean, how many people in this day and age run off to die alone?  On the other hand, maybe it's not so stupid.  After all, our father did.

 

     By the time the seagulls were diving for fish the next morning I hadn't gotten more than two hours of sleep.  I didn't know whether to be worried, pissed, or insulted at my brother's lack of courtesy.  I finally settled on all three as I drove to the office. 

 

     There was no message from A.J. on the answering machine as I hoped there might be.  I didn't hear from him all day, though each time the phone rang I jumped on it as though the caller was about to reveal I was a million dollar prizewinner.  Because I was so damn angry with my brother I locked up the office an hour early.

 

     "Serves him right for not bein' here," I grumbled to no one but myself.  "I hope some client comes to the door after I leave wantin' to offer us big money to do some cushy job.  And when A.J. gets in a snit over it I'll tell him the next time he gets the urge to hightail his ass outta town without tellin' anyone where he's goin' he'd better think twice about it."

     I met Carlos and group of our buddies at Ollie's for a couple of beers, an Ollie Burger with the works, and a few games of pool.  My mind was so far removed from what was goin' on all I managed to do was lose twenty bucks on the pool games and rekindle my heartburn.  As I drove home later that night I decided if I didn't hear from A.J. by Monday morning I was gonna start lookin' for him. And for his sake, I just hoped he knew I didn't much care where I found him, or how much embarrassment I caused him when big brother showed up unannounced in one helluva toot. 

 

     Man, A.J. was sure gonna be sorry for pullin' this dumb little stunt when I got a hold of him. 

 

              

S&S    S&S     S&S     S&S     S&S

    

     While Janet showered and got ready for work the next morning I took a thirty minute run on the treadmill.  When my workout was complete I made the bed I'd slept in and straightened the room.  I took a quick shower in the downstairs bathroom, then shaved and brushed my teeth before dressing in a pair of tan Levi's trousers, a black turtleneck, and a long sleeved tan oxford shirt striped in black, white, and red. 

 

     Once again Janet had breakfast laid out in the kitchen when I arrived.  I filled her in on what I intended to do that day, leaving out one small part I wasn't sure if I was going to share with her or not.  I had a feeling it would be better to wait and see what I uncovered.  I also went over a plan I had in mind for that evening when I picked her up from work.  She asked a few questions of me, then nodded her head in understanding of what I hoped to accomplish. 

 

     Like the previous morning, I cleaned up the kitchen while she gathered together her shoes, briefcase, coat, and purse.  Rather than slipping into my tennis shoes, I put on a pair of weather-proof ankle high brown suede boots I'd brought along.  It was snowing again and I was sick of walking around with cold wet feet.   

 

     Janet commented on my wise choice of footgear as we walked out to the garage together, but also reminded me once again that I really needed to stop and buy myself a warmer coat. 

 

     "And bill me for it," she instructed in a repeat of the conversation we'd had the previous morning.

 

     "If I get time," was how I left things as we climbed into our vehicles.

 

     I saw Janet safely to work, then drove to the courthouse.  I spent the morning there reviewing several past cases of Janet's our discussion from the previous evening prompted me to take a closer look at.   Despite my concentration and perseverance, nothing jumped out from the documents that gave me the solid lead I was so desperately in search of.

 

     I took a look at a few other documents while I was there.  Documents that had nothing to do with any case Janet had ever worked on.  I had my first bit of luck in two days when I recognized the name of the lawyer on those papers as being someone I knew well.  Or at least someone I had known well when I lived in Seattle.

 

     Though I suppose most of Edward Melton's clients referred to him respectfully as Mr. Melton, I knew him as Ned.   He was one of the few lawyers left in Seattle who wasn't partnered with someone else, but rather ran a small, independent law office out of an old building downtown.  Ned and I met at some function or the other when I was new to Bloomdecker, Hershaw, and Clark.  We're roughly the same age and come from similar backgrounds.  We also shared a number of the same interests, and soon began meeting to play racquetball a couple times a week during our lunch hour.       

 

     The thing I liked about the guy above all else was the fact he was an honest, straight shooter who didn't hesitate to tell it to you like it was.  He didn't beat around the bush, he didn't care if he impressed you, pissed you off, won you as a friend for life, or made you his worst enemy.  He never compromised his values simply to gain a new client.  As far as I could tell, money didn't matter much to him.  He drove around in an old American Motors Pacer - the funny little bubble shaped car manufactured for a brief time in the late seventies that looked like something Neil Armstrong would have traversed the moon in.  Ned’s clothes possessed no more style than his vehicle.   His suits were bought off the rack at Kmart with few concerns one way or another as to how they fit.

 

     I suppose part of the reason our friendship formed in the first place was because, in so many ways, Ned reminded me of Rick.  A nonconformist happily marching to the beat of his own drum, totally unfazed by the stares and whispers of those who were losing out on so much by judging him on face value alone.  Not only was Ned a loyal friend, he was also one of the best attorneys in Seattle.

 

     Ned was either too cheap to hire a secretary, or didn't make enough money to pay one.  I had never figured out which.  Regardless, when I placed a call to him from a pay phone in the courthouse lobby he answered on the third ring.

 

     "Hello.  Ned Melton's office."

 

     "Ned, hi.  It's A.J.  A.J. Simon."

 

     "A.J.!"  The exclamation boomed through the phone line.  "How the hel...heck are you?"

 

     By the way he'd quickly corrected his vocabulary I guessed he had a client sitting across from his desk.       

 

     "Long time no see, my racquetball buddy.  My serve's getting a little rusty without you around to keep it greased up."

 

     I smiled.  "I'm sure you can still take me three out of four.  Listen, Ned, I know this is short notice and all, but I need to see you for a few minutes today if that's possible."

     "You're here in town?"

     "Yes."

 

     "What brings you way up here?"

 

     "It's a long story.  Maybe we can talk about it over lunch?"

     "Sure, sure.  That'll work."

 

     I could hear him shuffling papers on his desk, and got a mental picture of him frantically searching for his appointment calendar.

 

     "Is one o'clock okay?  I'm tied up until then."

 

     "That'll be fine," I agreed.  "Where do you want to meet?"

     "How about right here in my office?  You bring the pizza - sausage, mushrooms, extra cheese, but hold the anchovies, peppers and onions 'cause I've got another appointment this afternoon - and you've got yourself a deal."

     "Great.  I'll see you at one."

 

     "See you at one, old buddy."

     It was eleven-thirty when I left the courthouse.  I stopped at a gas station and filled the Concord's tank, then drove over to the other side of the city where I stood in line at a crowded hole-in-the-wall pizzeria to place my order.  I sat at a small table in a far corner while I waited for the pizza to cook.  I watched people come and go, picking up their carryout lunches, but didn't see anyone I knew.  Not that I expected to.  The part of the city Ned worked and lived in wasn't exactly an area the lawyers and staff of Bloomdecker, Hershaw, and Clark would have a desire to frequent.  Not unless they could bill a client double for it, that is.

 

     Rather than fight for another parking space I left the Ford where it sat.  I juggled the hot pizza box and the bag holding our drinks to one hand and fished in a pant pocket for change.  I shoved a quarter and dime in the meter's slot knowing the time those two coins gave me should prevent a parking ticket provided I wasn't with Ned longer than I expected.

 

     I walked the three blocks to the stone front building the Melton Law Office resided in.  I silently cursed the wet snow that pelted my face and ran down my neck.  Because its situated on the Pacific coast, Seattle rarely gets enough snow to halt her movements, only enough to make those of us moving about her in the winter time miserable.  As I looked up at the slate clouds a snowflake plopped in my right eye.  I longed for some San Diego sunshine as I wiped my face and kept walking.

 

     I trotted four flights up a winding wooden staircase that was over one hundred years old and creaked in time to my movements.  Ned's office was as I remembered it - paneled in cheap pale wood that probably wasn't real wood at all, the only decoration on the walls a crooked eight inch by ten inch picture of his wife and four daughters.  It was so out of date the youngest girl, who appeared to be about two in the photo, was now seventeen.

 

     Ned was alone, sitting sideways at his desk pounding information into a computer keyboard that rested on the heavy extension arm.  His shaggy, sandy colored hair fell straight to his shoulders, a stray lock of it swooping down over his forehead.  He had left the Kmart suit at home today, choosing blue jeans and a black Hard Rock Cafe - Chicago sweatshirt instead, making him look more like an aging Beach Boy than an attorney.   

 

     Law books, legal journals, and newspapers spilled over a wide span of bookshelves that ran from the ragged rust colored carpet all the way to the yellowed ceiling that was in bad need of a coat of fresh white paint.  Four pock marked metal filing cabinets stood at attention at the end of the shelves.  Like everything else in Ned's office they, too, were mix-matched.  One was black, two combat green, and the fourth diarrhea brown.   Two   chairs sat in front of Ned's desk, one pumpkin orange, the other the bright shade of jungle foliage.  Their colors alone left little doubt they were castoffs from some doctor's office.  Their wooden arms were scuffed from years of use, the finish completely rubbed off in some spots.  Silver duct tape patched small tears in various spots of the upholstery, adding a unique touch only Ned would refer to as classy.

 

     I don't know whether he saw me first or smelled the pizza first, but either way Ned rose to greet me.

 

     "A.J.!  It's great to see you!"

 

      He took the cardboard box and paper bag from me, haphazardly clearing a space on his cluttered desk and sitting them down.  He grabbed me by the shoulders for a brief moment, studying me at arms length in an effort to see what changes time had brought.

 

     "You look good," he said.  "At peace with yourself.   Like you're back where you belong."

 

     I had never shared with Ned the spectrum of mine and Janet's marital problems, not even after I filed for divorce.  But he had known I was dissatisfied with my law career and longed to return to P.I. work, so I suppose he'd easily put two and two together and come up with four.

 

     "I am back where I belong," I acknowledged while thinking of San Diego, my family, and Simon and Simon Investigations.

 

     He waved a hand at the stacks of papers, files, and books not only on his desk and the shelves, but also piled on the floor against the walls.  "I've been meaning to give you a call, but something always seems to be demanding my attention."

 

     "I know what you mean.  Same here."

 

     He rounded the desk and reclaimed his seat.  I hung my jean jacket over the back of the orange chair before sitting in it.  We caught up with one another while we plucked pizza from the box and sipped Coca-Cola through straws.   Despite the fact we'd only spoken once by phone since my return to San Diego we fell into the easy conversation of old friends.

 

     We wiped our greasy hands on napkins when we were finished and tossed them into the empty box.  Ned lifted it up and sat it on the floor behind his chair to get it out of our way.  God only knew how long it would remain there.

 

     He leaned back, taking a final sip of his Coke before tossing his cup and mine in the nearby garbage can.

 

     "While I'd like to think you returned to Seattle just to get another glimpse of my pretty face, I'm not quite that gullible.  What can I do for ya', A.J.?"

     I briefly filled him in on Janet's troubles before coming to the reason that brought me to his office.

 

     "You handled a divorce case last year for a Deanna Gillet.  Do you recall that?"

     The springs in his wooden chair squeaked as he leaned back and blindly reached for a drawer in the black file cabinet. 

 

     "Yep, I remember that one all right.  Nasty from the get go."

 

     "What can you tell me about it?"

     He cocked an eyebrow at me before turning to finger through tightly packed manila folders. 

     "Since I'd be breaking lawyer/client privilege to tell you much of anything about it, why don't you tell me what you know."

     I understood his position, therefore had no problem doing as he suggested.  I relayed what I'd discovered at the courthouse that morning concerning the legal dissolving of the marriage between Lance Gavin Gillet and Deanna Marie Price Gillet.

 

     Ned must have decided I already knew enough that he wasn't going to be violating his ethics to fill me in on a bit more. 

 

     "I can take an educated guess as to why you're asking since you said Lance Gillet now works with Janet and is seeing her after-hours.  But whatever you do with any information I reveal, you didn't hear it from me."

 

     "No, I didn't," I assured my friend.

 

     He studied the open file on his desk, refreshing his memory.  Within thirty seconds he closed it and pushed it aside.

 

     "Overall, it was your classic case of spoiled rich boy meets spoiled rich girl.  Deanna's grandfather started the Price Accounting Firm.  Her father is currently the CEO."

 

     I nodded my head in recognition of the multi-million dollar company that now has offices nation wide.

 

     "Lance's old man, Marcum, comes from family money, too.  They lay claim to being among the founding fathers of Seattle.  Whether that's true or not, I don't know.  What I do know is that Marcum Gillet owns half the buildings in this city, and just about any other type of prime real estate in the surrounding area."

 

     "Making him worth mega bucks," I said.

 

     "Exactly," Lance agreed.  "Many, many millions I'm sure.  So anyhow, the debutante and the boy born with the silver spoon in his mouth married one month after Lance's graduation from law school.  Fifteen years and a couple kids down the road later she finds herself disillusioned with him, his career, his late hours, the lack of time he spends with the family, the fact he has a mistress, the whole nine yards.  So she came to me and filed for divorce. 

 

     "Now let me tell ya', A.J., Deanna Gillet is one hell of a looker.  Coulda' been a model right out of a high priced fashion magazine."

 

     I couldn't help but think, like Janet.

 

     "Therefore spoiled rich boy wasn't too agreeable to giving up his trophy wife.  As a matter of fact, spoiled rich boy was pissed as all get out."

 

     "And that's when the trouble started?"

 

     "Yes.  That's when he slashed a vast and expensive collection of paintings she had.  The next thing he did was puncture her car tires one night with a screw driver.  As well, after Gillet had moved out, the police were called to the house several times because of violent arguments he instigated when he came to pick up the kids for the weekend."

 

     "Did he assault her?"

 

     "No, but he threatened to.  Or at least that's what she claims.  Naturally, he maintains otherwise."

 

     "Naturally," I agreed with heavy sarcasm.  "And what about the stalking incidents?  They were mentioned briefly in documentation I saw at the courthouse records room this morning, but not in any great detail."

 

     He shrugged his shoulders and ran a hand through his hair to push it out of his eyes.  "All I can tell you is what Deanna told me.  The police never caught him at it.  But she alleged she'd look outside at various times of the day and night to see Lance parked across from the house.  Or she'd be in the grocery store and find him standing at the end of the aisle, or tailing her when she left to go pick the kids up from school.   The stalking got worse when she began dating another man shortly before the divorce was final.  He broke into the house late one night while she and the children were sleeping with no other intention than to scare the hell out of her."

     "And then what happened?"

 

     "As far as I know nothing.  I believe once the divorce was final things straightened out.  Or at least I've never heard anything further about the situation.  I advised Deanna to contact me if her problems continued.  I told her we'd have a restraining order put out against him if necessary."

 

     "So what do you think?"

 

     "You want my honest opinion?"

     I nodded. "Of course."

 

     "I think Lance Gillet is a royal asshole who cares about no one other than himself.  I also think he's got a nasty temper and an ego the size of the Grand Canyon, therefore doesn't take too kindly to being dumped by the woman in his life."

 

     "Do you think he's capable of hurting that woman?"

     "Do I think he's capable of it?  Yes, A.J., quite frankly I believe he is.  If Janet has gotten herself mixed up with him she'd be wise to put an end to the relationship as quickly as possible."

     I left Ned's office ten minutes later, his words an ominous warning that stayed with me for the rest of the afternoon.

 

_____________________________

 

 

     I pulled my rental car into the parking garage at twenty minutes to five, a little more than an hour prior to the end of Janet's working day.  I found an open spot on the ground level, locked the car and left it there.  I snapped my jacket closed to ward off the permanent chill of the cement structure and headed for the stairwell. 

 

     I took my time as I climbed to level seven.  I didn't see anyone other than a maintenance man perched high on a ladder at level four changing a light bulb. 

 

     I opened the door a mere crack when I arrived at my destination.  I saw no one in the vicinity, so exited onto the garage floor.  I shoved my hands in my pockets and strolled the entire area as though I had nothing better to do than check out the wax jobs on expensive cars.  When I was satisfied no was about, neither in a vehicle or outside it, I secreted myself in a dark corner between the wall and a heavy support pillar that jutted out enough to hide my presence.

 

     No one lingered inside the building that night.  It was Friday, everyone was anxious to get a head start on the weekend.  I stood quietly and patiently as people bid their co-workers goodbye.  Car after car started and exited.  I took careful note when Lance came out alone a few minutes before six.  For whatever reason he'd changed into casual clothes before leaving the office.  His black Armani suit was on a hanger and draped neatly over his left arm.  He wore a denim shirt and blue jeans underneath his wool topcoat.  His wing tips hung from the hand carrying his briefcase. In their place he wore a pair of hiking boots with soles treaded thick like car tires.

 

     Lance brushed a finger over Janet's glossy car as he walked by it on the way to his own.  My eyes narrowed, and I wondered what the gesture signified.  Simple admiration of the vehicle?  Or ownership of the woman who drove it?

 

     I watched Lance stow his things in his vehicle, then drive away.  It came as no surprise to see him primping in his rearview mirror.

 

     My feet were growing numb from the cold surface of the concrete when Janet exited the elevator alone like I had told her to that morning.  By arriving so early and parking the Concord on the ground level I was hoping to catch her stalker up here waiting for her.  So far I had struck out on that accord, but I was far from ready to give up.  If he didn't see me anywhere we might just be able to lure him into following her home.

 

     I jogged out and met Janet halfway.  I put a hand on her elbow and rushed her to her car.  She had her keys ready, enabling her to quickly unlock the vehicle.  Within in seconds I was lying down on the back seat, completely out of anyone's line of sight.

 

     Janet took the route home we had discussed that morning at breakfast.  She didn't talk to me, but rather appeared to passing drivers as though she was a woman alone.

 

     She stopped at the grocery store she frequented, even though she didn't really need anything considering I'd just stocked her cabinets the day before.  I peeked my head up enough to be able to watch her enter and exit the building.  She came out with a gallon of milk and a quart of orange juice ten minutes later.  If anyone was following her I didn't see him.

 

     Her next stop was the dry cleaners.  This time she had clothes to drop off, as well as clothes to pick up.  But again, I didn't see anyone or anything that aroused my suspicions.  Though that didn't mean someone wasn't watching her out of my line of vision.  I just hoped he was foolish enough to trail her home.

 

     Like we'd discussed it would be that morning, Janet’s final errand was at a Block Buster Video located a mile and a half from her home.  She parked in a dark corner well away from other vehicles and right next to a Dumpster. 

 

     Using her car as a shield, I slid out the back passenger door, my bare hands landing in a pile of frigid snow.  I ignored the biting chill and scurried around to the other side of the massive trash container.  I didn't take my eyes off Janet until she'd safely entered the store that was lit up like the Hollywood sign at night.  While she was inside I kept a vigilant watch over the parking lot.  I saw plenty of people sitting alone in their cars, but time and time again they proved to be waiting for a child, friend, or spouse who had been choosing a movie.  If anyone was especially interested in the lone BMW driven by Janet Fowler he was doing a good job of keeping that a discreet fact.

 

     I watched Janet exit the store carrying a small plastic bag in her hand.  My body tensed when a man stopped her just outside the doors by coming up behind her and placing a hand on her elbow.  I snapped opened my coat and felt for my gun.  If his intention was to grab her and run I'd be on his heels before they got three feet from that storefront. 

 

     But Janet's posture wasn't that of a woman in fear of assault.  When the man turned so the parking lot lights illuminated his face I recognized him. 

 

     Lance.

 

     I watched, wondering what he was up to, and wondering just how big of a coincidence it was that he'd turned up here.  At a video store in Janet's neighborhood.

 

     Their conversation didn't last more than thirty seconds.  When they bid one another goodbye he entered the store and she continued to her car.

 

     She did an excellent job of acting as though her ex-husband wasn't lurking about behind a smelly Dumpster.  She got in her car and laid the bag on the front seat.  It was when I heard her door lock that I felt reasonably assured of her safety. 

 

     I took off running away from the Dumpster, soon leaving the vast parking lot and store behind me.  I jogged through a strip mall, past three fast food places, and around a gas station until I came to Janet's residential neighborhood. 

 

     I continued my journey but stayed off the streets now, instead racing through a succession of back yards.  For once I was thankful for the winter cold and darkness.   No one was outside to see me and wonder what a grown man pushing fifty years old was doing sprinting over their property as though he was late for dinner.

 

     I came upon Janet's house by way of her backyard neighbor's.  I used the set of keys she'd given me to enter into the garage through the service door.  I unbugged her alarm system and unlocked the door that would let me into the back hallway.

 

     Her automatic timers had the living room lit up.  I didn't turn on any additional lights as I waited for her to arrive.  I took off my boots and left them on the rug next to my tennis shoes, then hung up my coat.  I made my way into the dark kitchen and looked out at the street in front of her house.  I didn't see any cars in the immediate vicinity, but knew he could just as well be parked down the road or standing on the sidewalk a block away.

 

     I was still winded when Janet pulled up five minutes later.  I waited for her in the hallway and took some of her burdens from her when she finally entered the house.

 

     I could immediately tell she was tired and crestfallen. 

 

     "I didn't see him.  Not anywhere."

 

     I carried the milk and juice to the kitchen while she deposited everything else in her hands on the living room sofa.

 

     "Then we'll just have to come up with another idea," I stated practically when she came to the kitchen doorway.

 

     "But it was a good plan, A.J.  I thought for sure we'd catch him tonight."

 

     I walked over and placed my hands on her upper arms, giving them a tender squeeze.  "We'll catch him, Janet.  I promise."

 

     "But you can't stay here forever.  You'll have to go back home soon and--"

 

     "Hey.  Stop it.  I can stay here for as long as it takes, and that's what I intend to do."

 

     She looked into my face, searching to see whether or not I meant what I said.  She must have gotten her answer because she briefly laid her head against my chest and whispered, "Thank you.  Thank you so much."

     I released her and cocked my head toward the stairs.  "Go upstairs, get changed, and relax for a while.  I'll make dinner."

 

     "You don't have to do that.  You cooked last night.  I'll get supper together tonight."

 

     I gently shoved her toward the stairs, refusing to take no for an answer.  "Go on.  I don't mind cooking and you know it.  That's when I do some of my best thinking."

 

     She smiled at me as if she remembered that, indeed, I do in fact do some of my best thinking when I'm puttering around the kitchen getting a meal together.

 

     Janet threw the plastic bag that contained her dry cleaning over one arm, then grabbed her purse and briefcase.  She headed up the stairs while I placed the movie she'd rented on top of the TV before returning to the kitchen.

 

     While she rode her exercise bike I made a meatless pasta dish and tossed a salad.  When she came downstairs forty-five minutes later she was wearing black leggings, baggy white socks, and a knee-length red sweater.  It looked like the perfect outfit for a casual winter evening at home.

 

     Janet set the table while I finished cooking supper.  She complimented me on the meal, though I don't think she ate enough of it to really know what it tasted like.  She spent more time pushing shell noodles around in Alfredo sauce than she did putting them in her mouth.  It was obvious to me she'd been counting on our fox being drawn out of his den this evening.  Considering the situation had been going on for three months, I couldn't blame her for wanting it to come to a swift end.

 

     We didn't speak of her troubles until after the table was cleared and the dishwasher cycling.  We reclaimed our chairs and exchanged information regarding our day.  I didn't mention anything about Lance right then, but just told her I'd looked further into a few of her cases but had come up empty handed.

 

     "I was finally able to get a hold of Judge Sheridon's secretary today," Janet said.  "Or his former secretary, I should say, considering he’s retired. She no longer has a list of the guests that attended his party, but after I explained the situation to her and why I wanted the list, she promised she'd do everything she could to reconstruct it.  She's also going to contact the judge and his wife.  I asked her to do as you suggested, put their heads together and write down everyone they can think of who was there.  I made my own list while I was on my lunch break and faxed it over to her.  She said she'll get back to me early next week with the names they come up with."

 

     "Great.  That'll give us another source to draw from."  I folded my hands together on the table and squirmed in my chair knowing she wasn't going to like the subject matter I broached next.

 

     "I also looked into Lance's background today."

 

     "You what?"

 

     "I looked into--"

 

     Her eyes flashed her anger.  "I heard you the first time, A.J.  I thought we put an end to this discussion last night."

 

     "Janet, we have to look into all the possibilities.  And in my opinion, Lance happens to be one of those possibilities."

 

     She crossed her arms over her chest and refused to speak to me.  It reminded me of how much that gesture had ticked me off when we were married. 

 

     "Don't do that, Janet.  Don't block me out because you've decided what I have to say isn't worthwhile.  It just might be, you know."

 

     "Okay, fine.  Talk.  Though I can't imagine what you found out about Lance that will make any difference one way or another."

 

     "For starters, he was stalking his ex-wife while they were separated.  He also punctured her car tires and slashed an expensive collection of artwork she owned."

 

     "And just where did you hear all this?"

     "I read about it in some documents I pulled at the courthouse."

 

     "How did you pull those?  Those types of documents shouldn't have been accessible to the public."

 

     I grinned at her.  "Despite my advancing years, my charming smile has still been known to persuade a young lady into letting me see things I'm not supposed to."

 

     The joke didn't make her laugh like I'd hoped.

 

     "That's not funny, A.J.  I should make you give me her name.  She should be fired for letting you see those papers."

 

     "Oh, Janet, come on!  Get off your high horse.  This has nothing to do with what some nineteen-year-old clerk let me see or didn't let me see.  It has to do with Lance.   He's a possessive, jealous man who couldn't come to terms with his impending divorce so felt the need to scare his wife as retribution.  He broke into the house one night, Janet, with no other purpose other than to frighten her."

 

     "That was documented in what you read today?"

     "Well...no.  But someone told me about it."

 

     "Someone?  Someone like whom?"

 

     "Ned Melton. He was Deanna Gillet's attorney."

 

     "Oh, good," she said with dripping sarcasm.  "Ned Melton.  The Rick Simon of lawyers."

 

     I wasn't about to get into this argument with her.  I was well aware she was furious with me and purposefully brought Rick up to fuel my anger.  She’d done it often times when we were married.  Despite my sentimental feelings of late, I was acutely reminded as to why our marriage ended.

 

     "I'm not going to debate either Ned's or Rick's credibility with you.  It'll be a waste of time and effort, and will only cause hard feelings between us.  Therefore, I'm going to end this discussion by reminding you that I devote myself one hundred percent to every case I take on regardless of who my client might be.  And if there's one thing I learned from your father when I first started working for him over twenty years ago, it's that a good investigator leaves not one stone unturned.  So if you're upset with me for looking into Lance's background today then so be it.  But I discovered some things you'd better spend time pondering.  The possibility of Lance being your stalker is a good one.  But even if he's not, I don't think he's a guy you want to get mixed up with."

 

     I stood from up from the table and headed toward the living room.  I paused in the doorway a brief moment.  "And just for your information, I'm not saying that as your ex-husband.  I'm saying that as your friend."

 

     Janet must have recognized that we needed some space from one another, because while I sat in the reclining easy chair reading the newspaper she remained in the kitchen.  I could hear dishes being pulled in and out of cabinets and couldn't help but smile.  Whenever Janet was angry she felt the urge to nest.  Cleaning, scrubbing, and rearranging seemed to be her way of working off steam while at the same time mulling over her thoughts.  Toward the end of our marriage our house practically gleamed.

 

     Janet joined me in the living room an hour later.  I had finished the paper long ago and had gone upstairs to retrieve my book.  I laid it on the coffee table when she curled up on the couch.

 

     Her apology was spoken softly.  "A.J., I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have flown off the handle regarding what you told me about Lance.  I'm still not certain how much of it I believe, but I'll do what you say and give it some thought."

 

     "Do one better than that, Janet.  Access the court records and read the documentation for yourself.  Call Ned if you need further proof."

 

     She made a face at that suggestion, but kept her opinions to herself.  She didn't like Ned any better than she liked Rick.

 

     "Promise, Janet.  Promise me you'll look into this guy before your relationship with him goes any farther."

     She nodded.  "I promise.  But I want you to know the only reason he was at the video store tonight was because he was picking up some movies for his kids.  They're spending the