The OC

by D P Lyle

  DO NOT DISRESPECT ME WHORE

  “He was here? In my home?” Megan began to shake as if she were a pinged tuning fork. She staggered back, wavered.

  Nicole hugged her from behind, enveloping her in her arms. “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not. It’ll never be okay.”

  Pancake and I made our way from room to room, making sure no one was still inside. Other than the message on the wall, everything appeared undisturbed, normal.

  When we returned to the living room. Megan sat on the sofa, her face in her hands. Nicole sat next to her, one arm around her shoulders.

  Abby stood, giving the red words a wide-eyed stare. “This is unbelievable.”

  Megan looked up. “I’m scared shitless right now.”

  “You should be,” Abby said. “This is exactly what I was afraid of. He’s getting crazier, and a lot more dangerous.”

  Hard to argue with that. This dude was diabolical and very busy. Photos and flowers and angry messages in Malibu and now this. Talking about angry messages. His choice of red made the words almost an audible scream.

  Megan finally got her head sorted out and called the police. They said wait outside and not to touch anything. Mostly, that’s what happened. Megan did grab some clothes. She feared that if they locked her place down she wouldn’t have what she needed for work the next day. Or would it be longer? She packed a small suitcase, and once that was stacked on the others in the Range Rover, we waited on her porch.

  Pancake called Ray and told him the story. They chatted for a few minutes more. When Pancake hung up, he said, “Ray’s coming.”

  “He is?” I asked.

  “That’s what he said.”

  “When?”

  “As soon as he gets a flight. He’ll probably grab a red-eye.”

  “Why does he feel the need to be here?” Nicole asked.

  “Said if push comes to shove, we might need more firepower.”

  So very Ray. Saddle up and ride into the fray. The disturbing part was the question: Would we need more firepower? Was this that type of situation? I had to admit that virtually every time I did any work for Ray, and I guess this had morphed into that on some level, it turned into a shooting gallery. Did Ray simply attract that type of chaos, or was that what every P.I. dealt with? Part of me was sure Ray was a magnet for violence. Probably not a fair assessment but there it was. A more charitable view would be that violence and Ray weren’t strangers.

  But wasn’t this simply a stalker? Not a mafioso or criminal kingpin or leader of a biker gang or Mexican cartel thugs or anything that would need a massive response? Okay, so he did send threatening messages, and follow Megan to Malibu, and invade her home. Maybe Ray’s concerns were spot on. Or maybe, this was simply a matter of identifying the dude and calling the police.

  Which reminded me.

  I called Detective Claire Mills. Even though it was Sunday, she had said for us to call her directly, anytime, if we had more information. I suspected this qualified.

  Two uniformed officers arrived and got the story from a shaken Megan before entering and once again clearing the condo. One of them stepped outside and said they had called the crime scene crew in for photos and fingerprints.

  Then he asked, “Did any of you call Lieutenant Mills?”

  “I did,” I said.

  He nodded, glanced around. He seemed almost annoyed. I suspected the last thing he wanted was someone leaning on him or looking over his shoulder. Maybe especially Mills. She seemed like a tough, no-nonsense cop, and probably demanded perfection from those around her.

  “We had talked to her about Megan’s stalker,” I said. “She said we should call her directly if anything changed.” I waved a hand toward the front door. “I thought this would qualify.”

  He nodded, sighed, obviously resigned to the fact that I had made his day a tad more difficult. But this wasn’t a simple break-in and property damage issue. This was a stalker. One that was becoming progressively intrusive and probably truly dangerous. So, bottom line, I didn’t feel too sorry for him.

  Mills arrived fifteen minutes later. The CSI types rolled up right behind her. After she said hello to us, and said she’d be back in a minute, she followed the uniforms and the techs inside to get a tour of the scene. Five minutes later, she exited and joined us where we stood near our vehicle.

  “You okay?” she asked Megan.

  “No. Not close.”

  “It’s really scary,” Abby said. She stood next to Megan, one hand on Megan’s arm. “Someone invading your privacy like this. Writing those awful words.”

  “It is,” Mills said. “But then, this might be the break we need.”

  “What does that mean?” Megan asked.

  “Looks like he came in through the pool area. The sliding doors in your den were not locked and seem to be a little off track.”

  “They were locked when I left. I’m sure they were. I always check them.” She sighed. “Lately even more than usual.”

  “Pretty easy to jimmy open. No way to relock them once outside. Or take the time to do it anyway.”

  “That makes sense, I guess.”

  “He also took down a pair of pictures from the wall so he could do his artsy thing.” She gave a weak smile. “Maybe he left some prints in those areas. The doors and the frames.”

  “You think so?” Megan asked.

  “The thing about evidence, it’s either present or it’s not. So I’d go with fifty-fifty.”

  An hour and a half later, the police and crime scene folks had finished working the scene. We thanked Detective Mills for coming. Part of the job was her take. She also said she would now open an official file on the stalking and get her cyber guys cranked up. She added that she would keep us updated and that we should call if anything else came up.

  We watched the uniforms, the crime scene van, and Mills drive away. It was like the air hissed out of Megan. That post hyper flagging. She suddenly seemed frail, pale, and exhausted.

  Abby took her hands in hers. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “I don’t know what,” Megan said. “Except make this movie stop.”

  CHAPTER 28

  “HOW’D YOU GET inside?”

  “It wasn’t difficult. Those sliders are flimsy. A screwdriver did the trick.”

  “You sure no one saw you?”

  “As sure as I can be. I waited and watched. For a couple of hours at least. That place shuts down pretty early so by midnight it was like a cemetery.”

  “Interesting choice of words.”

  “There were lots of trees and shrubs around and the lighting wasn’t the best so I had plenty of shadows to use. Didn’t see a soul.” He leaned back on the sofa, arms stretched across the back. “Her unit was perfect. It was way toward the back and had a great little fenced patio and yard space. It was surrounded by a four-foot fence and even more shrubs. Once I hopped over that, I was invisible.” He smiled. “It was delicious.”

  “Wish I could’ve been with you.”

  “You were busy.”

  “Still.”

  “Truth is that I could have invaded any of those places. It’s amazing how naive and trusting people are.”

  “Getting into her place is the money shot.”

  “So far. Lots more to come though.”

  “True. I wonder how well she’ll sleep tonight?”

  “Not well, I imagine.”

  A nod. “For sure this will ramp up the stress. Someone breaking into your domain, the one place you should feel safe, and now all of a sudden you don’t.” A headshake. “I really love this shit.”

  “I know you do. Me, too.”

  “I can almost see her right now. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, and wondering if this will ever end.”

  “Not to mention the ceiling she’s staring at isn’t her own. Not now that she’s left her place and is staying with friends.”

  “Yeah, like that’ll save her.”

  A shrug. “Nothing
can save her. Moving out simply collapsed her world further and added more pressure.”

  “She’ll definitely feel displaced and off balance.”

  “Which only ramps up the terror.” A smile. “Talk about delicious.”

  CHAPTER 29

  I AWOKE, ON my stomach, pillow over my head. I rolled over but found no Nicole. Sunlight illuminated the curtain. What time was it? Then the aromas of bacon, toast, and coffee wafted my way. My grumbling stomach tugged me out of bed. I hit the head, washed my face, and brushed my teeth. I needed a shower and a shave but that could wait. Jeans, tee shirt, barefoot, I headed toward the kitchen.

  Pancake had two skillets going. One sizzled with bacon, the other held a mound of scrambled eggs. A stack of toasted bagels sat on the table.

  Nicole stood by the sink, wearing one of my shirts, pouring orange juice into four glasses. She turned when she heard me. “Good morning. Did you get enough beauty sleep?”

  “Why didn’t you wake me?”

  “You seemed too comfy to disturb.”

  “How long have you been up?”

  “Long enough to be Pancake’s sous chef.”

  She handed me a glass of OJ and I took a gulp. “Good.” I nodded toward the stove. “Where’d all this come from?”

  “I found Pancake swinging on the fridge door when I got up.”

  “She didn’t have shit,” he said.

  “We bought you a bunch of stuff,” I said.

  He grunted. “Already ate it.”

  “We went to the store. Got this and Pancake has busied himself ever since.”

  “Smells good,” I said.

  “Sure does.” Megan walked in. “I like this B&B.”

  “How’d you sleep?” I asked.

  Megan rubbed one eye. “Actually, not bad, all things considered. I’d expected another night of wrestling the pillow and bedsheets, but I guess I was exhausted.”

  “You do look refreshed,” Nicole said.

  “Yeah, except for makeup and dealing with this rat’s nest.” She fingered her hair.

  Pancake pointed a spatula at her. “You look mighty fine, darlin’.”

  “You must have low standards.”

  “He doesn’t,” Nicole said. “I can vouch for him in that department.”

  “Everyone grab a seat,” Pancake said. “Grub’s ready.”

  It was even better than it smelled. No surprise there. The big guy knew his way around the kitchen. Always did. Growing up, both of his parents worked long hours so unless he wanted to exist on peanut butter and crackers, he needed to know how to cook. He learned quickly. It was that old necessity and invention deal.

  Megan settled her coffee cup on the table. “I spent a lot of time last night thinking about how this guy knows so much about me. Not just where I work and where I live, as disturbing as that is, but he knew I was going to Malibu. Hell, I didn’t even know until a day before. How’d he know that?”

  “That’s one of things I’m still looking into,” Pancake said. “But it comes down to either he has access to your communications or he’s following you.” He shoved an entire piece of bacon in his mouth. “Maybe both.”

  Megan sighed. “I’m not sure which is more concerning.”

  “He’s definitely not afraid to travel,” I said. “He was in Malibu Saturday afternoon when he snapped that photo of you guys on the beach. He was also there yesterday morning when he had the flowers delivered. In between, he must’ve been here, breaking into your condo and painting the walls.”

  “Ain’t that far,” Pancake said. “Couple of hours. He likely came back down late at night and then back up very early. Not much traffic between midnight and five a.m.”

  I nodded. “If he followed us, he’d know our vehicle. If it was still at Uncle Charles’ at midnight, the odds would be that we were staying over. Which meant that Megan wouldn’t be home. No chance of him being surprised while doing his work.”

  “Then back up for this morning’s performance,” Pancake said.

  I stood and began collecting the empty dishes. I avoided Pancake’s as he was still flashing a knife and fork and devouring the remaining eggs.

  “What’s on your plate today?” Nicole asked Megan.

  “Eggs and bacon.” She smiled. “Or at least it was.” She patted her belly. “I can’t believe I ate so much.”

  “At least you haven’t lost your sense of humor,” Nicole said.

  “Got to find humor where you can.” She took a sip of coffee. “I actually have a fairly short day today. Abby and I have to complete a couple of scripts, and get to work on a piece we’re doing next month. But I don’t have an on-camera live thing today, which is good since I don’t think they make enough makeup to prevent me from frightening the viewers.” She again fingered her hair. “I should finish early. Maybe around three.”

  “How’s Abby working out?” Nicole asked.

  “Very well, actually. I’ve never had an intern so I wasn’t sure what to expect. I guess I thought it would be a time and energy drain with all the teaching and mentoring. Abby wasn’t all that experienced in this business in the beginning but she’s learned quickly. She has good insights and, most importantly, writes well.”

  “She seems nice.”

  “She’s been a shoulder to lean on.” She looked at Nicole. “Now I have you for that also.” Tears collected in her eyes. “All of you.”

  “That’s what we’re here for,” I said.

  “We’ll get this guy,” Pancake said.

  “How?” Megan asked. “He seems like a puff of smoke.”

  Pancake grunted. “Smoke leaves behind a soot trail and we’ll find it.”

  “I like that analogy.”

  “I’m a freaking poet,” Pancake said.

  “Dirty limericks don’t count,” I said.

  “Sure, they do.” He indicated the plate of remaining eggs and bacon. “Anybody want more?”

  We all shook our heads.

  “Good.” He scraped every tidbit onto his plate.

  “What time do you need to head to the studio?” I asked Megan.

  She glanced at her watch. “Maybe an hour.”

  “Okay.” I stood. “Guess I better go shower and shave. Then we’ll follow you to work.”

  “Seems overkill, but okay.”

  “Let us know when you get ready to leave and we’ll come follow you back here.”

  “It’ll be daylight. I’ll be okay.”

  “You’ll be okay because we’ll be following you,” Nicole said.

  “I feel like a third grader being walked to school.”

  “Until this is over, you are,” Pancake said.

  Megan drained her coffee cup. “Still seems a bit much.”

  “You have car insurance, don’t you?” I asked.

  “Sure.”

  “You don’t need it until you need it. Consider us an insurance policy.”

  CHAPTER 30

  RAY HAD INDEED taken the red-eye and called around ten a.m., saying he would grab a rental car and head our way. Earlier, Nicole and I had followed Megan to work, stopped by the store to get Pancake more food, and Ray a case of Mountain Dew, his only addiction. Now, we sat out on her deck, watching Jimmy Fabrick wash down the sides of his boat. One of those tasks that watching’s much better than doing. Of course, I felt that way about most things. Like running my restaurant. That’s what I had Carla for. Which reminded me to make another mental note to call her. The last one, a couple of days ago, apparently slipped my mind.

  Through the open slider, I could hear Pancake at the kitchen table, hammering away on his keyboard. When I went inside to get us more coffee, I asked him how it was going. He never looked up, only grunted. Meant it was somewhere between something and nothing. With Pancake you just never knew. I was smart enough not to dig deeper, so I refilled our cups and returned to the deck.

  “How’s it going in there?” Nicole asked. “He grunted at me.”

  “Hmmm. A good grunt or a bad one?
”

  I shrugged. “I can never tell the difference.”

  “Maybe he’s hungry.”

  “He’s always hungry.”

  “Should I check?”

  “He knows how to use the fridge.”

  “True.” She cradled her cup in her hands and took a sip. “I hope he finds something.”

  “In the fridge?”

  She gave me a look. “No. Out in the cyber world.”

  “He will.”

  “Let’s hope. If it was up to me, I wouldn’t know where to look, or even where to start.”

  “He has his ways.”

  A young lady came down the walkway and stopped at Jimmy’s sailboat. She wore a bathing suit beneath a coverlet, a large canvas bag over one shoulder, all shaded by a floppy, broad-brimmed hat.

  “Looks like Jimmy has a first mate,” I said.

  “He often does. I think he has a bevy of them.”

  “Bevy. I like that word.”

  “You would.”

  Jimmy and his mate quickly got everything settled, cranked up the small trolling engine, and backed away from the slip. The clear sky and light wind made for a perfect day for lazy sailing.

  Ray arrived before eleven. Since Nicole’s three bedrooms were filled with Nicole and me, Pancake, and Megan, Ray said the couch would be fine. If it got too claustrophobic for everyone, he and Pancake could move to a hotel.

  “It’ll be fun,” Nicole said. “Like a sleepover.”

  After Nicole showed him around, Ray dropped in a chair at the kitchen table across from Pancake. Nicole and I joined them.

  “Anything new?” Ray asked.

  “Maybe.”

  “Want to share it?”

  “Not quite yet. Need to check out a couple of things first, but everything’s looking promising.”

  “A hint.”

  Pancake closed his laptop. “This just might not be his first rodeo.” He stood. “Now let’s go grab some lunch.”

  Of course.

  “Better idea,” Nicole said. “There’s a good rib joint near here. Jake and I’ll go pick up some and you guys can stay here and keep at it.”

  “Ribs work.” Pancake sat and reopened his laptop.

  “I thought they might,”