08 Trigger Snappy

by Camilla Chafer

  "How did you know that?" Sometimes, I wondered why I asked the dumb questions. Slapping my palm to my forehead, I could already guess the answer. Of course, Solomon had a surveillance team too, and one that was a lot more professional than mine. That meant he knew I'd been there.

  "I have them under surveillance."

  "I should have known." I wondered why I hadn't spotted them either. Probably because I was too busy wondering if my mother was as concealed as she could have been.

  "They're keeping an eye on your mom too." I groaned. "She's doing very well. She's taking notes and photos."

  "Of anything useful?" I wondered out loud.

  "Not that's been reported."

  "Is it too much to ask that your team were watching the house overnight?"

  "They were, but before you ask, no, they didn't see anything."

  "You only have a team on the front?" I guessed again.

  "Correct, so your thief came in via the back is our best guess."

  "How come you're not watching all the entrances? Isn't your client paying enough?"

  "They're paying enough, but we're watching Juliet, we’re not looking for break-ins."

  "She could have escaped out back."

  "Wearing an electronic ankle bracelet?" asked Solomon.

  "Point taken. Can I come read your notes soon?"

  "Yes, I'm waiting for you, but I had to go to my house, so meet me there. Call me when you leave Serena's."

  I promised I would and hung up, unsurprised that Solomon's big question hadn't been mentioned. It wasn't a simple yes or no, it was so much more than that. It was choosing a very defined path; and though the prospect of moving along excited me, it also scared me. Solomon was right, his house was bigger and better equipped than mine, and in a more chic area. Mine was smaller, cozier, and full of my stuff. It was my dream home. It symbolized my independence and I worked hard for it. I could rent it. I could sell it. I could even do as he suggested and keep it to work in; but if I lived with Solomon, would I never live in my pretty yellow bungalow again? If I lived with Solomon, what would follow our merger of linens and crockery? Would we drift along in co-habitation? Or would it progress to veils, bells, and signed certificates? It was a huge question to answer... and also a very simple one. It was yes or no.

  "I have to go," I said, sliding off my stool in a daze. I wanted to talk to Lily about it, but I had a job to do first.

  "What about that coffee?"

  "Maybe later."

  "We could meet for dinner at O'Grady's?"

  "Do they let the competition in?"

  "When they are as pregnant and hormonal as me... yes."

  "See you at eight."

  The drive across town to my sister's house was conveniently quick with light traffic, but Serena looked harassed when she came to the door on the third push of the button. "I'm busy," she said, simply.

  "Hello to you too."

  "Mom said you were coming by." She opened the door a little wider, allowing me to step through. I shut the door behind me, following her through to the kitchen. Delgado was barefoot, his shirtsleeves rolled up as he stood at the counter preparing food. Victoria was in her high chair next to him, her hands wedged in a plate of spaghetti. Or, at least, it used to be a plate. The plate was upside down on the floor and the spaghetti was strewn across the highchair's tray. She grabbed a handful and held it up to me. "Yum!" she giggled.

  I pretended to eat a little from her hand. "Yummy."

  "Stand back," ordered Serena, "unless you want her to decorate you."

  I stood back just in case her aim was as good as mine at the range.

  "I don't have long," Serena continued. "I have a conference call in an hour and we need to have lunch, then I have to take Victoria to daycare. Antonio has things to do too."

  "You're working the Hart surveillance case?" I asked him.

  He blinked, like I caught him doing something he shouldn't have been, then simply nodded. "Yes, but not today. Solomon said you're working the same case."

  "You're working together again?" asked Serena, glancing from Delgado to me.

  "No, but our cases have overlapped."

  Serena brightened. "Is there an accountancy angle? Or codes for money? Remember how I helped you crack the case at the insurance firm?"

  "I remember," I said, not pointing out that she wasn't entirely accurate. She helped me with some puzzling codes, but they weren't exactly the key to cracking the case. They did, however, work as great leads for finding the stolen millions later. "I'm actually here to ask Delgado for help."

  Delgado paused his chopping. "Me? Why?"

  "Him? Why?" asked Serena.

  "I need someone to install a security system today, and you're the best person I could think of."

  "He is," agreed Serena. "The alarm system he installed here is wonderful."

  "What do you need?" asked Delgado as he caught a clump of flying spaghetti without looking. "And does Solomon know?"

  "Absolutely," I said.

  "Really?"

  "He will when I tell him; and it's not for any reason that will interfere with his case," I promised. "I don't know what my client needs, just that it should be state-of-the- art. The best you can get. The full works."

  "You want every door and window wired up?"

  "Yep."

  "Video feed?"

  I nodded enthusiastically. "Definitely, yes."

  "Audio too?"

  "Yes, please!"

  "Babysitting?"

  "Yes... wait, what?"

  Delgado grinned. "Gotcha! Let me make a call. I know someone at a fast response alarm company who could probably bring the equipment today if I help him."

  "Thank you."

  "And it's my day off, so don't worry about squaring it with Solomon. My day off is my business," he continued, barely looking up as he finished chopping. He scooped up the ingredients and dropped them into the salad bowl, adding a dash of extra virgin olive oil. Something on the stove sizzled and my mouth watered.

  "Shame it's not a money crime. I'm good with money," said Serena.

  Money crime? I don't know why it hadn't occurred to me to ask Serena about the money Juliet supposedly made and lost. "What do you know about insider trading?" I asked.

  She glanced up from feeding Victoria. "A little bit. Why?"

  "Tell me everything you know."

  Chapter Ten

  I met Solomon at his house, and felt almost relieved that we weren't in the agency offices. Given the nature of his notes, and mine, and knowing our conversation could turn quickly to the intricacies of the case, it seemed prudent to meet somewhere private. I didn't consider Solomon's bedroom exactly the right place for a professional discussion, but from my vantage point on the bed, I had an excellent view through the bathroom door of his walk-in shower. Not that I was looking at the shower, just admiring the way the rain pummeled his hard body.

  The water shut off while I shut my mouth, trying not to dribble, and a moment later, Solomon emerged with a very small towel wrapped tightly around his waist. "How's it going?" he asked, raising a larger towel to his head and drying what little hair he had. I tried really hard to engage my powers of telekinesis and make the towel around his waist fall, only to mentally lament my lack of supernatural powers. "Why is your face all screwed up?" he asked.

  I relaxed. "No reason. I haven't read very far," I told him, flapping the file.

  "Did you make it past the cover?"

  Looking down at the closed file, I stifled a laugh. "I thought I'd wait for you. We should review this stuff together. I sent copies of Juliet's bank statements and credit cards to you, and I just forwarded her incident log of all the weird things she recalls happening."

  "Good idea. We don't want to miss anything."

  I tried hard again with the telekinesis and the towel because I didn't want to miss anything either, but apparently I needed a lot more practice. With a shake of his head, Solomon turned away, and walked into the closet. Whe
n he re-emerged, he was nicely dressed in black jeans and a navy t-shirt, with the long sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The neck was open and a bead of water made its way down his throat before pooling at the base of his neck. I licked my lips and willed myself to concentrate harder.

  "Would you rather move to somewhere more professional?" Solomon asked.

  "I am an absolute professional everywhere I go," I told him.

  "So I see." Solomon sat opposite me, one leg casually resting on the bed, and reached over to flip open the file. "Where are your notes?" he asked.

  I pushed over my much slimmer file, which didn't contain much, just Juliet's self-filled case form, the background information provided by Maddox, and several pages of my musings. I figured Solomon could finish it in five minutes or less. His file, however, would probably take me at least two hours. Even skimming it, I could see how comprehensive he was. He had the client’s report of their suspicions into insider trading occurring within their firm and why the evidence pointed to Juliet. That was supported by a report from their IT support and included a ream of dates and times when the trades occurred, along with suspicious emails that were gleaned from Juliet's inbox.

  I didn't understand a lot of the financial jargon, or all of the proof, but I understood enough to realize there was a lot of circumstantial evidence against her. I was pretty sure it would all tally with whatever else Donahue had procured down at MPD. I wondered if the snitch had access to any of it. Then, I wondered if that person and the stalker were one and the same. Whoever it was seemed to have no problem accessing any part of Juliet's life.

  Spotting some information I hadn't seen before, I paused to read a complaint filed against Juliet. It was from her assistant for unjustifiable termination. There was a rebuttal from Juliet, staunchly refuting the allegation and insisting that she had no idea what was going on.

  "Did you interview the assistant?" I asked.

  "Whose?"

  "Juliet's. There's a report saying Juliet fired her by email, which was to take immediate effect."

  "I tried to; but she slammed the door in my face when I said I was from Lancaster Friedland."

  I flipped the page. "There was an internal review and Juliet stated she never fired her assistant."

  "The full report should be on the next page."

  I skimmed the report before looking up. "Don't you think that's weird?"

  "I think someone was just covering their ass."

  "Who? Juliet?" I asked, wondering why she hadn't mentioned it when I asked about any women who could have had a beef with her. Firing someone seemed like just the thing to me.

  Solomon shrugged lightly. "We live in a litigious society. It's hard to say."

  I let the pages slide by. There were several performance appraisal reports that all said positive things about Juliet. She was promoted and given several pay raises. Her bosses all seemed to like her, and their glowing reports predicted good progress. "How could someone go from being such a good employee to firing her assistant and resorting to inside information for her trades?"

  "Greed. Stupidity. A desire to please that went horribly wrong."

  "All her performance appraisals are good. She made the firm a lot of money, consistently exceeding her targets. She made very few bad trades until now, and certainly not to the extent of these losses."

  "Perhaps one bad trade triggered a series of others that she couldn't avoid, so she tried to cover them up. The loss trades aren't the ones my client is concerned about, however; they're worried about how she made so much money. She had tipoffs and plenty of non-public information."

  "I thought we were trying to stay neutral about her guilt."

  "We are. I'm thinking of reasons she could have slipped from employee-of-the-month to crook."

  "I'm thinking of ways she was set up."

  "The evidence is strong."

  "But not irrefutable," I countered. "I'd like to see what Juliet makes of all these trades when I give her time to look them over. She might have another answer, or some way of explaining what happened."

  "What Juliet needs is evidence in her defense."

  "That's what she's employing me for."

  "Do you have any evidence?"

  I pouted. "No."

  "Tell me more about the stalker theory. What happened at the break-in?"

  "Very little, actually. Nothing was stolen, just moved around. It's like they're trying to mess with Juliet rather than hurt her, or possibly letting her know they could hurt her anytime. I think someone made a copy of her keys and knows the access code for her house alarm so they could get in and out easily. They might have also known about the surveillance at the front of her house."

  "So we have a mystery person no one saw, who might have been in the house; but no one can confirm it because the alarm didn't go off, and they moved things, but didn't take anything."

  "Yes."

  "Are you sure Juliet didn't just make it all up? To convince you there really is a stalker?"

  I opened my mouth to refute Solomon’s remark, but I couldn't. It was actually quite possible Juliet had done just that. There was nothing to suggest anyone was ever there, other than her own frightened state, and insistence of another person. It could easily be argued that Juliet got up in the night and moved a few things around, then complained there was a break-in to point to an intruder. Solomon didn't have to say it; but without further evidence, there was no reason to believe Juliet's story... except that I did. Instead of giving him a straight yes or no, I said, "That's what the stalker wants us to believe. They want us to think Juliet's going crazy with the strain. Hell, I think they want Juliet to go crazy so she is completely unbelievable. Where are your surveillance notes?"

  "At the end. What are you looking for?"

  "A list of people that went into the house."

  "There're some photos, but we're still working on a list," Solomon told me as I stuck a thumb in the pages at the point where the photos were filed. There were a number of shots in black and white and I recognized a few people: Juliet and Rob, their stepson, Penelope, a few other women, me, the lawyer. Someone drew a beard on my photo. Delightful.

  "I can tell you who these people are," I said, pointing to the ones I did know. Solomon handed me a pen and I wrote the names as I remembered them on the back of the photos.

  "Your notes are rather brief," he observed, closing the file.

  "I only just started," I replied, glancing at his. "Yours are very detailed."

  "I had a headstart."

  "What's your feeling now?"

  "If your gut feeling tells you there is a stalker, then we need to prove or disprove that theory. Juliet's background checks came up clean. Her employers said she was always the perfect employee until suddenly, all this happens. You're right, it doesn't make sense. There should have been a bigger lead-in to this; and she would have been smarter to spread out her trades. There was no urgency for her to rush, thereby risking discovery."

  "I thought you were convinced that Juliet suddenly turned bad."

  "I'm trusting my gut too; and it tells me something weird is going on. What's your next move, Graves?"

  "I asked Delgado to install a new security system at Juliet's house. We're only telling Juliet and Rob about it; and I'll make sure they know not to trust a single other person. I think it's our best chance of catching the perp."

  "Good idea. If it helps catch the stalker, I'll bill it to my case expenses. That should clear Juliet and that's what my client wants."

  "Your client wants her in prison," I reminded him.

  "They want someone in prison, and I'm pretty sure they want the right person. Their evidence just points to Juliet, although even they admit they aren't one hundred percent sure." Solomon looked through the handful of photos I passed across to him. When he looked up, he said, "Given the perp had access to Juliet's computer, and since her trades came from within the firm, it seems most plausible that someone is setting her up from inside the firm. We shoul
d look for a potential stalker there too. Is there anyone from Juliet's personal world who crosses into her business world?"

  "Yes," I said, reaching for a photo. "Penelope. She works part-time at the firm, and is a regular visitor to their house. Penelope was with her when one of the stranger potential stalking incidents occurred."

  "Then let's go talk to Penelope."

  En route to seeing Penelope, we stopped at Juliet's house to meet with Delgado, plus, I wanted to give my mom a well-deserved break. It took some persuading to make my mother leave, but gradually, we convinced her that the surveillance was best conducted by Solomon's team of professionals. After a final reminder to me not to forget about hosting our family dinner, she took off.

  "I don't think your mom is too happy with me," said Solomon as we waved to her retreating car. "She keeps giving me that narrowed eye thing."

  "She doesn't want to waste her spy training."

  "It is a shame." Solomon didn't sound at all saddened by it, however.

  "Where are your guys?" I asked, looking around.

  He smiled. "Everywhere."

  "I hope this doesn't get awkward," I told him as we crossed the road, heading to Juliet and Rob's house. "Play nice."

  "I always play nice."

  If the couple were worried about Solomon's presence as I made the introductions, they didn't show it. We greeted Delgado, already busy at work, and sat in the living room for what I hoped wouldn't be too unpleasant a meeting.

  "So you're working for the people who want to put me in prison," said Juliet, appearing more curious than concerned. She was slumped in an armchair, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders,. Clad in loungewear and totally devoid of makeup, she still looked effortlessly pretty. The only strain that showed on her face was in the gray circles under her eyes and the red lines on her lower lids. She'd obviously been crying recently. Rob hadn't shaved, and his hair stood in little peaks as he perched on the arm of the chair.

  "Your employers engaged me to look into the trading issues within the firm," Solomon replied, skirting deftly around the topic of Juliet's fate if we didn't work out what was going on.