The Stares of Strangers Page 4

  “My parents wanted me to call them as soon as you got here. If you don't mind, we'll be doing a video chat. They want to talk face to face.”

  “Fine, if it makes them feel better about it.”

  Penny opened her laptop that was sitting on the coffee table. “We might as well get this over with. Are you ready?”

  Within a few seconds, a screen appeared on the monitor. A man and woman in their fifties stared back at us from the screen. The woman--a well preserved lady of Asian ethnicity--looked just like Penny. The man, presumably the father, was Caucasian, dark hair speckled with grey, also well preserved for his age. They both had concerned expressions.

  “Mom and Dad, this is Sarah and Carter, the private detectives I told you about.”

  The woman put a hand to her heart and smiled with appreciation. “Nice to meet you. My husband and I are very concerned about this situation and I want to know she will be looked after. I assume you have some experience in these matters.”

  Carter cleared his throat. “Yes, ma'am. I've worked a number of stalking cases. In most cases, the perpetrator is identified within a few days' time.”

  Penny's mother nodded, her strained features seemed to relax. “I'd like you to keep watch on the house at night. Money is no object when it comes to the safety of our daughter. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” Carter said. “I understand completely.”

  “Mom,” Penny interrupted. “Don't you think you're overreacting just a little? I have a life, you know - and my two room-mates live here. I don't want to disrupt their lives.”

  The mother gave her daughter a stern look. “We have already discussed this, dear. The only thing left to do is come to a financial agreement. Mr. Carter, what will you need to start the job?”

  “We charge a flat fee of a hundred bucks an hour plus expenses. If you want to send two grand now, that will cover the first two nights. Then we can go from there.”

  She didn't flinch at the amount, a good sign. “That sounds fair to me. It's a small price to pay for peace of mind. I don't expect the police department to give my daughter any special treatment, so I'm counting on you to make sure she is safe.”

  Mrs. Graham didn't once consult with her husband about the financial decision, nor did he offer any comment. In fact, he reminded me of a statue in a wax museum; glassy eyed and unmoving. His wife obviously wore the pants in the relationship.

  Penny leaned over and pressed a button on her keyboard. The image of her parents dissolved. She sighed with irritation. “Mom can be so bull-headed sometimes. She still thinks I'm a little girl who can't defend herself.”

  “She cares about you,” I said. “Can't blame her for that.”

  “Well, you guys can do whatever you want to do. You really don't have to follow me around all day long and, if you don't feel like sitting in your car and watching this house all night, my mom doesn't have to know.”

  Carter shook his head adamantly. “We're getting paid to do a job and that's our priority. We'll do our best to stay out of the way.”

  Penny let out a moan of protest, but she probably figured there was no point in fighting us on this. “So, what happens next?”

  “First of all, where are your roommates?” I asked. “Are they at work?”

  “Yes. They both work at the Foot Locker store in the mall. They try to get the same shifts so they can carpool.”

  “When will they be home?”

  “Around three, I think. Why?”

  “Carter will be installing some surveillance cameras at each entrance. The next time your stalker makes an unwelcome appearance, we'll have his face on video. Also, do you mind if we take a look at the backyard from your bedroom window?”

  Penny stood up and motioned with her hand. “Sure, follow me.”

  Carter and I followed her down a hallway and into a small bedroom, sparsely decorated. She pointed to the single-paned window, the only one in the room. A lace ivory curtain let in the light, but did little to provide any privacy. “As you can see, the back yard is very private,” Penny said, as if reading my thoughts.

  Pulling back one of the frilly ivory curtains, I gazed into the backyard. There were no fences or gates to keep anyone from wandering back there. “You said before that you're pretty sure the pictures were taken last Friday after your yoga class. Too bad it rained yesterday. We might've been able to see foot tracks.”

  “It's still possible that our perp left some kind of evidence behind outside,” Carter said. “Like a cigarette butt. Do you or your housemates smoke?”

  Penny shook her head. “No, none of us smokes. But we’ve had some parties so friends might’ve left some around.”

  While Carter went outside, Penny and I sat down at the kitchen table. “Now, I need to make a list of people. Anyone you can think of that might be obsessed with you?”

  With pen in hand, I waited for Penny to start listing names, but she seemed stumped.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I can't think of anyone off hand.”

  “Let's start with your job. Where do you work?”

  “I'm a part-time caretaker for a deaf elderly lady who has dementia. Three days a week, I go to Janice's house and hang out. She sleeps most of the time, so I end up watching a lot of TV. She's a sweet woman.”

  “Who hired you? Her kids?”

  “Yes. Her daughter hired me and she's the only one I deal with. All the other caretakers are female, too.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Moving along. Are there any other ex-boyfriends or guys you've dated since you moved here? Other than Trent?”

  “No one serious.”

  “But you've hooked up, right?” I hate the term hook-up, but my son uses that expression a lot. I figured it was the cool way to refer to the act of sexual intercourse without sounding old fashioned.

  Penny blushed. “Well, yeah. I've been with a few guys. But I haven't heard from them recently.”

  “Did any of them have control issues? Did any of them seem particularly infatuated with you?”

  “I don't think so.” She bit her lip and looked down at her hands.

  “Penny, you need to tell me the truth. I'm just trying to help.”

  When her eyes met mine, she offered a weak smile. “Okay, so there's this guy I sort of had a fling with before I met Trent. I only slept with him once and I immediately regretted it.”

  “What's his name?”

  “Brandon Whitman. I met him at a party just a few weeks after I moved here.”

  I wrote down his name. “Do you know where he lives?”

  “I've never been to his house, but I still have his phone number. You want that?”

  “Yes.”

  She picked up her cell phone and thumbed the buttons. “Here it is.”

  After scribbling down his number, I asked, “When was the last time you spoke to him?”

  “Months ago. He was pissed and left me some nasty messages, but I never called him back. He eventually stopped calling.”

  “Okay, tell me a little more about Brandon. Do you think he has the potential of being violent?”

  “Hmm. Honestly, I don't know.”

  “I think it's worth looking into him, but let's keep going. Anyone else who might be infatuated with you?”

  She took a moment. “There is this one guy at my yoga class. He's kinda creepy. Always sets his mat next to mine, and I can feel him staring at me during the whole class.”

  “He stares at you?” I asked. Who wouldn't stare at her with a body like that.

  “Yeah, but he's never said anything to me other than hello and good-bye.”

  “Do you know his name?”

  “The name embroidered on his gym bag says Ken. He's always at the four-thirty class.”

  “What days do you go?” I asked. “The same days every week?”

  “I try to go three times a week. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Friday's. He was there last Friday.”

  “So it's possible he could've followed you home after class.”


  “I guess it's possible, but I never noticed him.”

  I wrote the name Ken in my notebook and underlined it twice. “Describe him for me, please.”

  “Well, he's probably in his late thirties. He has blonde hair with a long ponytail, kinda tall. He always smells like patchouli.”

  “Do you know what car he drives?”

  “Um, I think he drives a Prius. A lot of yogis drive them, I guess.”

  I checked my watch. “It's almost noon. Are you planning on going to class today?”

  She shrugged. “I dunno.”

  At the sound of the back door opening, Penny jumped slightly in her chair.

  “It's just Carter,” I said.

  “Oh.” Penny sighed in relief as she clutched her chest. “Man, I’m a nervous wreck.”

  “It's understandable. You've had a rough few days.”

  When Carter stepped into the kitchen, his nose was red from the cold. “I didn't find anything. I checked the whole perimeter of the house.”

  “Thanks for checking that out,” I said. “We may have a possible lead. There's a guy at Penny's yoga class we should look into. First name is Ken. He'll probably be at the four-thirty class today so Penny has agreed to attend so we can ID him.”

  “Why is he a lead?” Carter asked.

  “He has a habit of setting up his yoga mat next to Penny. And he stares at her during class.”

  Carter chuckled. “I have a feeling most guys stare at girls during yoga class. It's what they do. Is there any other reason he's now our suspect?”

  “Well, think about the timing. Last Friday is when Penny thinks the pictures were taken outside her window. He could have followed her home from class.”

  “Okay.” Carter said. “In the meantime, let's split up and start knocking on doors in the neighborhood. With any luck, someone saw this guy delivering that envelope this morning.”

  Chapter 7

  Carter decided to go across the street while I focused on the neighbors next to Penny's house.

  The house on the left was a similar ranch, painted green with dark trim. I rang the doorbell and a cacophony of barking erupted. A woman in her late thirties answered the door, holding onto the collar of a Husky.

  “Hello,” I said, with a friendly wave, eyeing the dog with trepidation. “I hope I'm not interrupting. My name is Sarah Woods and I'm a private detective. This is in regards to your next door neighbor, Penny Graham. Do you have a minute?”

  “Is everything okay?” she asked. “I saw a policeman over there earlier.”

  “Penny is having a problem, a potential stalker situation. I was wondering if you might have noticed someone go to her house early this morning to deliver an envelope.”

  She shook her head, a worried expression. “About what time?”

  “It's hard to say. Sometime between late last night and this morning before six.”

  “I'm really sorry,” she said. “I didn't get up until six-thirty.” She ushered her dog back into the house and told him to go lie down.

  “Does anyone else live here? Your husband, perhaps?”

  The woman turned back to face me. “It's just me and Josh, my son. He's at school right now.” She opened the door wide and gestured with her hand. “Would you like to come in? It's freezing out here.”

  “Yes, thank you. I won't take up too much of your time.”

  “No problem. I needed to take a break, anyway.” Once inside, she wiped her hands on her jeans, then held out her hand. “My name is Karen Gibbs, by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you, Ms. Gibbs.”

  “Just call me Karen.”

  Karen reminded me of a young Sally Field; with sparkly eyes and a dimpled smile. She certainly seemed friendly enough.

  “What's your dog's name?” I asked. “He's a beautiful husky.”

  “His name is Quimby. He's my son's dog.”

  I glanced around the living room and noticed all the framed pictures. “That must be your son,” I said, pointing to one of the school photographs. “How old is he?”

  “Just turned thirteen last month. Quimby was a birthday gift. Being an only child, least I could do was get him a pet, right?”

  I smiled. “Handsome kid. You must be proud.”

  She seemed to blush at the compliment. “Yes, I am.”

  Glancing around, I noticed there were no family photos and I wondered what happened to the father. If he had passed on, there would still be photos of him around. So I assumed she was divorced. “Karen, what do you do for work?”

  “I do medical billing for a doctor in town. He lets me work from home. I like to be here when Josh gets home from school.”

  “Sounds like a great boss,” I said.

  “Yes.” She turned to me with a more serious expression. “So, about this stalker situation next door. Should I be concerned for the safety of my family?”

  “I don't see any reason at this point to be concerned but, in the future, if you notice anything out of the ordinary, just stay inside your house and call me right away.” I handed her my card. “Of course, if you witness anyone trying to break into Penny's house, call 911 first.”

  “Sure, I can do that.” She set the card on her coffee table, but then picked it up again. “I better not leave this lying around. Quimby chews on everything.”

  It seemed like she had her hands full with the dog. “Well, I don't want to keep you any longer. Thanks for talking to me.”

  “No problem.” She walked me to the door. “I hope you find that fella who's bothering Penny.”

  “Thanks, we'll catch him eventually.”

  When I left Karen's house, I headed directly over to the neighbor's house on the other side of Penny. I noticed the wheelchair access ramp leading to the front door. In the driveway was a van with an electrical ramp installed on the side.

  When I knocked, a young woman in her late twenties appeared.

  After I explained who I was and why I was there, she kindly introduced herself as Gretchen Powell. She had the palest skin I’d ever seen with baby fine blonde hair. “Come inside and we can talk,” she said.

  I followed her through a sitting room. A young man with dark hair sat in a wheelchair, watching TV. He barely looked at me when I said hello.

  The house seemed eerily dark. All the curtains were drawn and the lights were turned off.

  Once we got into the kitchen, however, a small window let in some light. Gretchen gestured to a stool at the counter. “I was wondering what had happened when I saw the police next door. This neighborhood is pretty quiet most of the time. Although, the parties get a bit rowdy.” She waved it off. “Now, what can I help you with?”

  I took out my notebook and pen. “Have you noticed any unfamiliar cars in the past few days? Or have you seen anyone walking close to Penny's house? This morning, someone delivered an envelope of a potentially threatening nature.”

  Gretchen looked aghast. “Gosh, that's disturbing news. What kind of threat are we talking about?”

  “Penny might have a stalker. He's already gotten into the house and stolen some of her personal belongings.”

  She slowly shook her head. “I wish I could help, but I don't remember seeing anyone around. Do you have a description of the guy?”

  “No. We're still working on a list of suspects. We'd hoped a neighbor might have seen someone snooping around.”

  She placed a finger on her chin “Now, is Penny the Asian girl, or the redhead?”

  “Penny is Asian American,” I said. “The redhead is her housemate, Jessica. And Jessica's boyfriend Caleb lives there, too.”

  “Yes, I've met Caleb. He helped me get my husband into the van one time. Very nice kid.”

  I glanced toward the living room and wanted to inquire why her husband was bound to a wheelchair, but I chickened out.

  Gretchen smiled, as if reading my mind. “Mitch got injured during his tour in Afghanistan. Happened last April.”

  The lump in my throat grew twice its s
ize. “Oh, Gretchen. I’m really sorry to hear that.”

  She shrugged it off. “You'd be amazed at how many people just pretend like nothing happened. Like Mitch has always been in a wheelchair. Friends don't come around much anymore. I guess they don't like to be reminded of the ugly stuff going on in the world.”

  I nodded, unsure of how to respond.

  “Anyway,” she said. “Enough of that, let's get back to why you came here. You're looking for a stalker but you have no idea who he is or what he looks like, is that right?”

  “Yes,” I said. “That's about right.”

  She folded her hands on her lap and said, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Well, would you be willing to ask your husband if he's seen anyone around Penny's house? Unless you think it will upset him.”

  “I don't mind asking him, but I doubt he'll be much help. He likes to keep the curtains closed throughout the house. He doesn't like going outside; he doesn't even look outside. All he does is watch TV.”

  I handed her one of my cards. “If you happen to see anything out of the ordinary, would you give me a call?”

  “Certainly.” She went to her fridge and placed the card under a magnet. “There, now I won't lose it.”

  I stood up and held out my hand. “Gretchen, it was a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise, Ms. Woods.”

  Chapter 8

  When Carter met me back at Penny's house, he hadn't had much luck, either. Penny had made a pot of coffee, however, so the three of us sat at her kitchen table to discuss our next course of action.

  “Let's hope Officer Bouchard got some prints off those photographs,” I said. “But I have a feeling our guy is not that stupid. If he's managed to come to this house twice unseen, then he's very good at this game.”

  “Plus. Fingerprints won't do much good unless the guy's in the system,” Carter added.

  Penny twirled her hair anxiously. “So, what should we do now?”

  Carter checked his watch. “You need to call your landlord or property manager and tell ‘em what's going on, if you haven't already. As Sarah told you, I'd also like your permission to set up two surveillance cameras, one at the front door and one in the back entrance so when this guy shows up, we'll get his face on video.”