Don't Be A Stranger

by Alicia Roberts

  Kevin shook his head. “No, she wouldn’t say anything about him because it was a secret. And I kind of didn’t push, you know? I figured she was making it up and I didn’t want her to extend the lie.”

  I nodded, and made a note. If Esme did have a boyfriend, maybe this mysterious man could tell me something. As it was, Esme seemed to have absolutely no enemies, and there didn’t seem to be anyone out there with a motive to kill her.

  We chatted a bit more, and Jerry and Kevin told each other about people they knew in common. By the time Kevin left, it was almost five.

  Jerry caught me checking my watch as we headed toward the subway station, and smirked.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “Darren hasn’t turned into a pumpkin yet.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Darren turned up at exactly eight, and I buzzed him up immediately.

  “Would you like to come in for a drink?” I said, trying to smile nonchalantly.

  He was wearing a crisp white shirt with silver cufflinks, and dark blue jeans. The white shirt set off his tan, and his green eyes glowed softly. He smelled delicious, and I felt the urge to lean forward and stroke my fingertips along his jaw.

  “I probably shouldn’t,” he said. “Our reservation’s in fifteen minutes.”

  I nodded, and stepped out into the hallway with him. Jerry was in the shower, and I was glad he hadn’t been around to bother Darren.

  “By the way,” I said, as we stepped into the elevator. “How’d you get my address?”

  I’d totally forgotten to give it to him yesterday.

  “Oh, I asked Michelle to find out,” he said. “I think she called someone you used to work with – Nellie? Mellie?”

  “Uh-huh.” I smiled and nodded, feeling butterflies in my stomach from standing so close to him in the elevator. But the ride down was over quickly, and then we were stepping out onto the street, where a taxi materialized almost immediately, like a minor Manhattan miracle. It was one of the few times I hadn’t needed to stress over getting a taxi in time, and I leaned back, full of high hopes for our date.

  We chatted a bit about our jobs on the short ride over – Darren worked at a consulting firm, and had to travel all over the country. I was still asking him about all the places he’d been to, when we were seated at our table. I found his stories of Florida and the south fascinating, and I was giggling over a tale about alligators and overweight tourists, when Darren paused, mid-sentence, and frowned.

  “Don’t turn around right now,” he said in a low voice, “But do you know that man sitting at the table to your right? Two tables back. He’s sitting alone and watching us.”

  I froze, wondering if this man might have something to do with the threatening letter I’d received. I gulped, and checked over my shoulder.

  My eyes met those of the man watching us, and I frowned. Jerry! What was he doing here?

  I turned back to Darren, trying not to let my emotions show.

  “Do you know him?” said Darren. “He doesn’t seem to be… he seems a little strange.”

  “Uh.” Jerry definitely qualified as being “a little strange”. I didn’t want to lie, but neither did I want to admit that it was my crazy roommate who had no idea what “boundaries” were.

  “No,” I said finally. “I have no idea who he is.”

  Of course, Jerry chose that moment to appear right beside our table.

  “Valerie!” he said. “Fancy seeing you here! What a surprise!”

  I glared at him. “Yes,” I said through gritted teeth. “What a huge surprise.”

  “I thought you didn’t know this man,” said Darren.

  “Oh no,” I said, turning back to Darren and smiling. “I just – I didn’t recognize him with that huge menu covering half his face.”

  Darren looked at me doubtfully and Jerry said, “Yeah, sometimes we go out and when we run into each other we pretend not to know each other. It’s a fun game.”

  Thanks Jerry, I thought silently. Now I really sound like a wonderful person to date.

  “Well,” I said, looking at my stupid roommate again. “It was nice seeing you. I guess you need to go back to your meal now.”

  “Oh no,” he said. “I haven’t ordered yet. And I see you guys haven’t ordered either.”

  I pursed my lips and gave him a long, pointed look. “I suppose you should go back and order now.”

  “You’re lucky you’ve got company,” said Jerry, making a super-sad face. “I’m just eating by myself. All alone.”

  I smiled brightly and said, “Sometimes being alone is good.”

  And at the rate at which he was going, I would be alone for the rest of my life. Or at least, without Darren. I needed to find a way to get rid of Jerry, before Darren decided that he’d seen enough of this freak show, and rushed away.

  Jerry looked at Darren and said, “Hey, aren’t you Esme’s step-brother? I’m Jerry.” They shook hands, and Darren gave me a curious look. “I’m Valerie’s partner,” Jerry went on. I wanted to bang my head on the table. “We’re investigating the case together.”

  “Oh,” said Darren to me. “I didn’t know you had a partner.”

  “I don’t,” I said, wondering if I could pick up my fork and give Jerry a good poke with it.

  “Well, not technically,” said Jerry. “But I’m helping out on this case. So I guess I should join you guys. You know, that way we won’t have information overlap.”

  Before I could stop him, Jerry motioned to the waiter to set another place at the table, and sat down beside us.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Things went downhill from there. Not literally downhill, of course, since we weren’t sitting on a hill, but badly enough that I planned out numerous ways to kill Jerry when he least suspected it.

  We drank red wine and ate delicious food, but I was too angry with Jerry to really appreciate either. He asked Darren questions about his work (which was busy) and his relationships with Esme, Michelle and his dad (all good) and his love-life (which he avoided neatly, saying that he was “waiting for the right woman,” and giving me a deep, swoon-worthy look.)

  I let Jerry do most of the talking since I’d lost my ability to engage in witty banter or be a charming conversationalist. My mind was consumed with fury, and thoughts of taking Jerry down to Florida and feeding him to the ‘gators.

  “Did Esme have any enemies?” asked Jerry, as smoothly as any TV-cop.

  Darren shook his head. “No, not that I know of.”

  “What about her love-life? Was she seeing anyone?”

  “If she was, she was close-lipped about it. I think she might have been interested in someone, but she was really busy with her career.”

  “And where were you last Friday night?”

  “I was working late. The night guard probably saw me leave at around midnight.”

  None of us ordered dessert.

  When the bill came, Darren looked at me and said, “Would like to go out and grab a drink? Just the two of us? I know a really cozy bar.”

  “She can’t,” said Jerry promptly. “She has to get home. Straight away.”

  “Well, ok.” Darren looked from me to Jerry, and placed his credit card on the bill, before a waitress took it away. “I’ll just take you straight home then.”

  “Oh, no,” said Jerry. “You don’t need to. Val and me’ll split a cab, since we’re going to the same place anyway. Haha.”

  I gave Jerry the hundredth dirty look of the evening, which he ignored, just as he’d ignored all the previous ninety-nine dirty looks.

  “Well,” said Darren looking at me a little uncertainly. “I guess we should do this again sometime. Just the two of us, I mean.”

  I smiled. “I’d like that.”

  “After the case is solved,” said Jerry. “She can’t date you before she solves the case. Seeing how you’re still a suspect, and all that.”

  “It’s not a date,” I snapped at Jerry. “It would just be dinner. There’s nothing
wrong with dinner.”

  “Not before we solve the case,” said Jerry, standing up and holding out an arm for me.

  God, this must’ve been how Victorian-era damsels felt about their lame chaperones. I glared at Jerry, and looked back at Darren.

  “I’m really sorry about tonight,” I said. “I hadn’t intended for…” I glanced at Jerry, and Darren smiled.

  “I understand,” he said, and reached out to squeeze my hand briefly. Sparks of electricity danced across my skin, and I smiled.

  He understood? Most Manhattan men didn’t even understand women who talked a bit too much about themselves on the first date, or who had more than two bites of dessert, or who didn’t profess a deep and intense love of yoga and pilates.

  But Darren understood that a girl could be perfectly wonderful and still have a nut-job of a roommate. I was very impressed that even after meeting Jerry, Darren hadn’t run away screaming and clutching his head.

  “I’ll see you later then,” I said, standing up slowly.

  “Come on,” said Jerry, grabbing my arm and trying to drag me along. “We don’t have all night. You’ve got that thing to do, remember?”

  “I don’t have any thing to do.”

  “Well, you do now,” said Jerry. “We’ve got to hit Whole Foods before it closes for the night.”

  “Goodbye, Valerie,” said Darren softly, “I’ll see you again.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  As soon as Jerry and I got into the cab, I unleashed my anger.

  “Are you crazy? Showing up like that and trying to ruin my evening?”

  “It was for your own good,” Jerry said calmly. “I don’t trust that guy.”

  “But you need to trust me!”

  “I trust you. But I thought you could do with a little backup. What if he turned dangerous? And I know how guys like that work: he’s charming and I know you like him.”

  “So what if I like him? That doesn’t mean I’d sleep with him.”

  “You don’t have to sleep with him. Maybe he’d get information out of you.”

  “I don’t have any information yet!”

  “Well, either way, you shouldn’t be dating a suspect.”

  I was silent for a little bit, and then we argued for a little while again. Much as I hated to admit it, Jerry might have a point – Darren was charming and I was totally infatuated with him. If Jerry hadn’t turned up, maybe I would’ve told him something I shouldn’t have. And I’d probably have agreed to a second date tomorrow, instead of asking him to wait till the investigation was over.

  Still, Jerry’s suspiciousness and dislike of Darren was irritating.

  The cabbie dropped us off at Whole Foods, near our apartment, and I followed Jerry as he picked up cooking stuff. That helped me calm down a little: despite Jerry’s other faults, I do love the fact that he cooks. And bakes. And bastes and fries and a whole bunch of kitchen-ey stuff that I don’t understand.

  “Look,” said Jerry, “It’s that really nice cooking chocolate! I can bake you a chocolate mud cake when we get home.”

  I beamed, and decided that was it. I was no longer mad at Jerry. There’s nothing in the world more effective than bribery with a cake.

  “Aren’t you busy trying to stay in shape?” I asked as we walked home.

  “Yeah, but we can go running tomorrow and then I’ll hit the gym. We can have a slice of cake each. We’ll survive.”

  I was planning on having at least two slices. But Jerry didn’t need to know that yet. I opened the apartment door and stared at the floor. Once again, there was a plain white envelope lying there.

  I froze, and Jerry peered over my shoulder.

  “You don’t think…” I let my words trail off, and behind me, Jerry gave me a poke.

  “At least step inside. I need to put these bags down.”

  “Yeah, ok.”

  We walked inside slowly and I locked the door carefully behind myself. I had a bad, bad feeling about this. Jerry put the grocery bags on the kitchen floor. “Maybe it’s just a Chinese restaurant flyer.”

  “Sure, nicely wrapped up in a white envelope.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck were prickling uncomfortably. I glanced around, as though someone might be watching me. “Maybe we should, uh…” I cleared my throat. “Maybe you should check if there’s anyone in the house.”

  “Nah, don’t be silly.” Jerry’s voice was nonchalant and teasing, but his eyes were worried.

  I shrugged, trying to act casual. “You hear about these psychopaths all the time. You know, how they break into houses and like to lie in wait for their victims.”

  “That’s silly. There’s no psychopath waiting in our house.”

  “Great. If you think it’s silly, you check our bedrooms.”

  “No. If you’re the one who’s worried, you should check our bedrooms.”

  “Seriously? While we’re arguing about this, the psychopath could come out and kill us both.”

  Jerry rolled his eyes. “Fine. You wait out here.”

  “I’ll put the stuff away.”

  “Whatever,” he muttered, as he stalked off.

  I watched him nervously, instead of putting away the groceries. I didn’t even really know where the groceries went; I wouldn’t want to confuse Jerry with haphazard sorting.

  Jerry disappeared into my bedroom, and I stiffened, waiting for him to scream and run out. But he didn’t. When he emerged after a few long seconds, I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “See?” he said, looking as relieved as I felt. “Nothing.”

  “Great. Now do yours. And the bathroom.”

  “You do the bathroom.”

  “Ok, I will.”

  Before I could change my mind, I marched toward the bathroom. I flung the door open, stepped inside, and pulled aside the shower curtain. No-one. I almost sank to my knees in relief.

  I came out and pulled the bathroom door shut, just as Jerry was leaving his bedroom.

  “All clear,” he said, and I giggled nervously.

  “No psychopaths,” I said.

  “Yeah. Maybe the letter really is from someone else.”

  “Yeah, maybe it is.”

  Emboldened by the lack of psychopaths hiding in our apartment, Jerry picked up the envelope and we sat down on the sofa to open it. He pulled a folded piece of paper out of the envelope. When he unfolded it, something fell on the floor.

  I reached down and picked it up. And then I realized what I was looking at.

  It was a photo of me and Jerry, sitting in Starbucks, chatting with Kevin. I closed my eyes, fighting back the wave of nausea that threatened to grant dinner a reappearance. Jerry wrapped one arm around my shoulders and I opened my eyes.

  I took a deep breath and read the message that was printed on the piece of paper: “I told you to stop asking questions. You and your boy-toy need to stay home.”

  My stomach felt funny, and Jerry had a strained look on his face.

  I took the paper from him and said lightly, “Well, I’m glad we checked our bedrooms first.”

  Jerry nodded. “Yeah. And on the plus side, the psychopath thinks I’m your boy-toy.”

  I folded the letter and put it and the photo back inside the envelope. “I don’t know why they’d say that. I obviously look younger than you.”

  “No, you don’t,” Jerry said half-heartedly.

  I put the envelope with the letter and photo on the coffee table, and we stared at it silently.

  “I guess I’m dropping it off at the Precinct tomorrow morning,” I said.

  “Yeah. And after that, we’re going to talk to the security guards at Darren’s office.”

  “You’re not serious?” I turned to look at him. “We were just with Darren. There’s no way he could’ve left that letter.”

  “He knew we were going to Whole Foods. He could’ve followed us, made sure we went inside the store, and then dropped off the letter.”

  I didn’t like that idea. “Well, at lea
st we know it wasn’t Kevin.”

  We sat silently for a few more minutes, and then Jerry said, “There’s no point sitting around. Might as well go to bed.”

  “What about the cake?”

  Jerry raised one eyebrow. “You still want cake?”

  “I always want cake. And cake’s even more important at times like this.”

  He shrugged. “Ok. I wasn’t that sleepy anyway.”

  Neither was I. The letter had driven away all thoughts of sleep. It’s not that I was really worried. I mean, so far this person had only sent me letters. And ok, they’d stalked me to the meeting with Kevin, and taken a photo.

  I tried to think back to the scene at the Starbucks – but nothing unusual jumped out at me. Everyone there had been in business clothes, all looking slightly similar. There had been no creepy, one-eyed men with telephoto lenses wearing a cap that said “I’m a Psychopath.”

  And maybe I was pondering this all wrong. I shouldn’t be thinking of the person leaving us messages as a psychopath. Whoever had murdered Esme had done so because it had seemed logical; leaving us messages was probably just as logical in Murderer Land.

  There was no point worrying about it, so I watched Jerry put away the stuff we’d bought, and then I tried to learn how to make a chocolate mud cake. It’s not that I didn’t want to go into my bedroom alone. It’s just that it was much more pleasant standing around in the warm kitchen with Jerry. I tried to beat eggs and I watched him measure flour.

  When the cake was finally in the oven, Jerry said, “It’ll be a while now. You might as well shower and change, and then I’ll go.”

  I nodded. Although he didn’t say the words out loud, I knew that we were silently agreeing to a pact: I’d shower and Jerry would keep an eye out for suspicious visitors, and then he’d shower and I’d do the eye-out thing.

  In the end, we only had a small slice of cake each. I could’ve had more, but my stomach was still feeling a bit funny and I didn’t want to make myself sick.

  “Remember,” said Jerry when we headed toward our bedrooms. “Tomorrow morning. One hour run, then we’re going off to talk to building security.”