"Do you think it would be awkward?" I asked. "Or would it be more awkward not to invite her because you and I..."
"It would be very awkward since we split up," interrupted Maddox, not looking up from his keyboard.
"Oh, Adam, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize."
"Don't be. We just weren't suited for each other."
"That's a shame. She seemed so nice," I said, recalling the one and only time I met her.
"She was, but just not for me."
"You doing okay?"
Maddox glanced at me and grinned, seemingly not at all perturbed about his newfound single status. "Absolutely fine. Okay, give me some names."
"Juliet Hart."
"Juliet is your client?" he said, whistling. "I heard about her arrest from a buddy at MPD."
"Yes, and Rob —I guess that's short for Robert— Harvey. Rob is her fiancé."
"Okay," said Maddox, sliding over a lined pad of paper and a pen. "Write down their dates of birth and I'll run them. Should I look for anything in particular?"
"No, just general background checks. I don't think either of them is a criminal, but I'd like some more insight into their histories besides what their DMV reports and financial records can offer. I don't want to be surprised by anything lurking in their backgrounds."
"You can find out all kinds of stuff from their financials, you know."
"I know, but Juliet has been pretty candid about money. She emailed me copies of all her past year's bank statements and credit cards this morning. I guess I want to know as much about her as I can because all the evidence points to her guilt so far."
"Sounds like you have your work cut out."
"I do."
"You sure this isn't too much for you?"
"No!"
I might have snapped a little too loudly because Maddox gave me an odd look. Plus, he unfortunately just voiced my biggest worry about the case. What if I couldn't help Juliet? "Sorry, it's just a tough case. I appreciate your help," I told him as I gathered my purse upon standing.
"I'll call you in a day or two. Can't promise I'll have anything useful though."
"Anything helps," I said, trying not to sound as weary as I felt. My gut might have told me one thing about Juliet, but my intuition wasn't enough. I needed real help on this case to provide Juliet with the proof she required for acquittal in her looming criminal case. It would have been so easy to give up in the face of such overwhelming evidence, but what if her stalker did set her up? What if Juliet was about to take the fall thanks to a brilliant criminal mind, who posed as a stalker? I couldn't in good conscience let Juliet go to prison without at least trying my best to help her. Not just her, I reminded myself, but her fiancé and their unborn baby too. Didn't they deserve my best efforts too? It wasn't just Juliet that stood to lose so much; there was a small family too.
"You know I can't get too involved. This isn't a federal case; and I don't have any kind of jurisdiction," warned Maddox.
"I know, but you handle financial crimes better than anyone I know, so I thought your insights would come in useful."
"You could call on a bunch of other people for that kind of stuff," Maddox pointed out. "Solomon, for one..."
"Like I said, he's working for the other team. You know, the one that intends to send Juliet to prison."
"Garrett?" Maddox tried again.
"I tried him already and all he could tell me was Juliet had been flagged on the system and I can guess why now. Plus I owe him big time in babysitting. I think I've exhausted all my favors. Besides, he's on homicide and no one's been killed." I paused at Maddox's widening eyes. "Did you just look hopeful?"
"No! What about Detective Donahue? You know, the one who hit on your cousin at..."
I cut in, "He's the one leading the task force that arrested Juliet!"
Maddox sighed. "I see why you came to me."
"That, and —" I waved a hand at his computer " —you have all these fancy-shmancy databases."
"Even fancy-shmancy databases can't come up with anything if the person isn't in the database. All I can do is run your names through every file I can think of and make up a report."
"I owe you one."
"At least it will be fun for me."
"You're not having fun every day?" I teased.
"Honestly, Lexi," Maddox started quietly, "this job is not what I expected."
"What do you mean?"
"I... it doesn't matter. Forget I said anything. And remember: I will call you on that favor next time I need an external consultant."
I wanted to press him further on the job issue, but he clearly wasn't inviting any questions so instead, I said brightly, "I like the sound of that. Can I print FBI Consultant on my business cards?" That should help my business in a big way!
"No, but you can tell people quietly."
I thanked Maddox, being purposefully quiet as he walked me out of the office. He assured me, yet again, that he would call me as soon as the reports came back. I didn't dare raise my hopes, however. Like he said, there was little chance anything would turn up on Juliet or Rob, and I didn't expect it to. I didn't think she was a criminal mastermind, and given Rob's apparently healthy relationship with her, and his ex and their child, I doubted very much that he was some kind of control freak, evil boyfriend who got off by terrorizing his partner. No, I expected to find zilch, but I had to try anyway. What kind of PI would I have been if I didn't dig further into my client's background?
As I approached my car, my cell phone beeped with a text message from my mom, asking me to swing by her house. With a couple more hours before I was due to relieve Lily from her surveillance shift, I texted her back that I was on my way.
My parents’ house is in West Montgomery. It’s a neat white house with yellow trim that invariably reminds me of an egg. I was raised in that house, and fought with my siblings, defied curfew, and skinned my knees on the sidewalk outside. Despite only living a few miles away, I didn't get home often enough. The regular family dinner was something I looked forward to with a mixture of eagerness and fear, but Mom had yet to notify us of the next one. I figured she'd be pleased when I showed up so quickly.
I spied my dad first as I entered the house, and followed the sounds of hammering that echoed from the kitchen. Dad stepped out of the kitchen, half-soaked, his hair plastered to his head, and holding a wrench. "What happened?" I asked, taking in the sight. "Wet t-shirt contest gone awry?"
"Ha-ha. A pipe burst in the ceiling and the kitchen flooded. I tried to get it to hold," he said, lifting his other hand, which held a reel of sodden duct tape, "but it exploded over my head just when I got it taped up." He began to shiver.
"At least, it was cold water," I said, shuddering at the thought of scalding water spilling over my father.
"Yippee," said Dad, looking the exact opposite of his exclamation.
"Let me get you a towel."
"Just get my robe from my bedroom," he said as I started up the stairs, careful to step around the puddle pooling at his feet.
"Where's Mom?" I called as I headed up.
Dad's voice floated up after me. "Ogling the plumber."
"Steve!" yelled my mom. How she heard my father's complaint over the sounds of gushing water and hammering, I didn't know, although I was well aware of her supersonic hearing. At least, now it wasn't scuppering my teenage plans of escape and subterfuge anymore.
"Sorry, dear," sniffed Dad.
Stepping into my parents’ bedroom, I looked around for his robe. The bed was neatly made in plain linens, an aged comforter folded at the foot. It looked like they redecorated recently because the walls were a pleasant, pale blue and the wardrobes looked new. There were several photos of the two of them on my mom's vanity. In every one they held hands; from their marriage photo to a recent picture I recognized from Lily and Jord's wedding. If I ever got married, I hoped it would be like theirs, I decided, as I turned around, finding Dad's robe hanging on the back of the door. I grabbed it, as
well as a towel from the bathroom, and hurried downstairs.
"Thanks, sweetheart," Dad said as he took it. "Your mom's waiting for you."
"Does she need a robe?" I asked.
"No, she didn't get a drop on her."
"Lexi, is that you?" Mom called.
"Coming!" I found my mother standing at the entrance to the kitchen, plumbing tools in hand. "What are you doing with those?" I asked.
"Holding them for this nice, young man. Arnie, this is my daughter, Lexi. The single one," she added in a whisper that was anything but soft.
"Hi," said Arnie, turning slightly from where he was balanced on the countertop. His t-shirt was soaked through too, plastering the thin fabric to a wide, well-defined chest, and a set of biceps that rippled as he flexed his arm with the long pipe wrench in his hand. Water showered around him. No wonder my mother was looking on with unabashed glee. It was like the male version of Flashdance.
"Hi," I said, turning to my mom, and adding, "I'm not single."
She picked up my left hand. "I don't see a ring."
"I'm still not single! Also, Serena isn't married!"
"Arnie, you could snap her up!" she said, showing him my unencumbered hand.
"Mom!"
"I'm not single, Mrs. Graves," replied Arnie.
"I don't see a ring on your hand either!"
Arnie laughed and turned back to the pipe in the ceiling. In a few short twists of the wrench, he slowed the deluge to a tiny trickle.
"Wouldn't it be safer to turn the water off?" I asked.
"Mrs. Graves couldn't find the valve," Arnie said.
I narrowed my eyes at my mother. I knew exactly where the valve was, and so did she. I bet she forgot the moment Arnie arrived at the door in his tight t-shirt.
"There's no point playing matchmaker," I told Mom, not at all perturbed that Arnie was probably listening as he peered through the gaping hole in the ceiling. "I have a lovely boyfriend."
"Me too," said Arnie.
My mother sighed, and her shoulder dropped, but she didn't look away from Arnie's clinging t-shirt. Purely for research sake, I paused a moment to take in his chiseled abs. "At least, I tried. You need to settle down. I wasn't expecting you, was I?"
"I texted you right back to say I'd drop by. I thought we might go to lunch?"
"That would be lovely, but I think I'm going to have to help Arnie fix up this mess. Poor nice, young, single man."
"All fixed," he said, jumping nimbly off the counter and landing in a puddle that splashed upwards. I was pretty sure Arnie's boyfriend would have enjoyed this moment, when Arnie relayed it to him later. Lily would have been so disappointed she missed it. "You don't have to worry about any more water. I fixed the pipe temporarily, but I can do a full repair tomorrow. You'll need to call your insurance company about the ceiling and the kitchen. Some of your top cabinets are soaked and beginning to buckle. I didn't check inside, but I guess you'll have to throw any food items away," he told us as he gathered his tools. He wiped them off with a tea towel before loading them into his tool kit.
"Is this going to be very costly?" asked my mom.
"Your insurance should cover everything. The temp fix just costs my time, and I'd advise you strongly against running any water in the house until I can come back and fix it properly. I can be here tomorrow morning first thing?"
My mom didn't move. She appeared to be hypnotized by his twitching pecs.
"That would be great," I told him when it became apparent she couldn't speak. "We really appreciate it."
"I'll leave via the back," he said, pointing to his wet clothes. My mother breathed a little sigh as he splashed across the kitchen and exited through the door onto the yard. He waved as he passed by the kitchen window and I waved back. His boyfriend was a lucky man.
"I can't believe you tried to set me up with your gay plumber," I told my mother. "What would Solomon say?"
"Is 'Marry me?' too much to hope for?" she asked.
"I don't think he would feel the need to compete with another guy."
"Maybe he's like Arnie." My mother paused and mouthed, "Gay."
"Solomon isn't gay."
"Are you sure? Have you ever seen him with another woman? Has he ever mentioned another woman?"
"We don't talk about things like that."
My mother gave me a smug, I told you so look.
"We aren't in a hurry to get married," I added.
"Shame. What if he never asks you to marry him?"
"Maybe I'll ask him."
My mother brightened visibly. "Could you?" she asked.
"No!"
"And I thought you were a modern woman." She looked around. "Where's your father?"
"Putting his robe on. His clothes were soaked."
"Oh, I didn't notice."
"Can't think why not," I said with a shake of my head. "Shall I take you both to lunch now Arnie has gone?"
"Everything's ruined here; so that sounds great. I can tidy later. Let me tell your father he can't wear his robe."
We walked to a deli that opened before I was born; and soon became a firm favorite with many local families. We grabbed a table by the window.
"Why aren't you working?" asked my dad. "Is work slow? Do you need a loan?"
"Actually, I have a big case."
"A big one?" Mom asked as I handed her a menu. "A money case? Can you pay your bills? Do you need a loan?"
"Yes. Maybe. Yes, and no. In that order."
"Which order did I ask in?" she asked.
I scanned the menu. "I don't need a loan, but I do need some help."
"Really?" my mother asked incredulously. "For?"
"Surveillance help. Lily suggested I ask you."
"We did ace Spy 101," Mom said proudly as Dad coughed. "And your father was a detective."
"I know. I saw your certificates and I do actually know Dad. Can you help watch a house for a few hours?"
"Watch it do what?"
"Not the house, but all the people coming to and going from the house."
"Can't you ask the owners?"
"I'm trying to be discreet!"
"Don't they know you're watching them?" My mother leaned in, the menu temporarily forgotten. "Are they criminals? Is this like Breaking Bad?"
"No, well, everyone thinks one of them is a criminal, but she's my client; and I'm trying to help her."
"Are they cooking meth? Apparently, all kinds of people are doing that now."
"No! This is not Breaking Bad!"
"Do you remember Jeffrey Carlton from high school? He lived three blocks over. He's doing ten years for cooking meth."
"Dumb kid," muttered my dad.
"Jeffrey Carlton?" The name brought back memories of a loud and arrogant kid from elementary school who only became louder and more arrogant in high school. He largely left me alone, but had a huge crush on Lily. Back then, every boy did. Except Jord, which probably explained why she married him. She always liked a challenge.
"Sold meth to two police officers," Mom continued. "I saw Maureen in the supermarket and she heard it from Esther, who heard it from Jeffrey's aunt. His mother was just so upset. I thought about taking her a pie, but I wasn't sure if she had the meth munchies, and I'd just be feeding an addiction."
"Meth munchies?" I frowned. "I don't know if that exists. Plus, I don't think his mom is a tweaker."
"Maybe it's marijuana munchies?" Mom carried on. "Anyway, very sad. I'm so glad you never dated him. He's probably gay now anyway. Prison can do that to you."
"Tell us about your case," said Dad before Mom could pursue her tangent.
I mouthed my thanks to him as Mom picked up her menu, running her finger along the juices and smoothies.
"My client has a stalker who, we believe, has been inside her home. I need to watch for anyone coming or going so I can work out who has access and might be causing problems."
"You think it's someone close to her?" Dad guessed correctly.
I nodded. "
It seems likely. I can't do all the surveillance. I need to interview people and chase down some leads; and I can't do that if I'm parked outside my client's house. Lily is taking a shift, and another friend will too. I thought if you weren't busy, Mom, maybe you'd like to help out? Put your spy training to use?"
How I said that with a straight face I'll never know, but I did, and my mother's expression was my reward. She looked thrilled as she grabbed my hand. "Yes, please," she whispered breathlessly as if I'd offered her an all expenses paid trip around the world. Dad coughed lightly. "Do I need to be armed?"
"No!" we both said loud enough for the next table to turn around and glare at us. "No," I said a little lighter. "No guns. All you need to do is sit in your car and watch the house."
Dad coughed again. I frowned at him.
"I can do that. I could even take photos. I have a digital camera."
"Okay," I agreed. "That could be useful."
"Will you be armed?" Mom asked.
"No."
"What if you get shot or stabbed again? I worry. Are you carrying now?"
"Carrying?" I repeated. She motioned putting her hand under her jacket, and withdrawing her fingers shaped like a pistol as I caught her gist. "Oh no. I barely use my gun unless I really need to."
"Good. I worry about you getting trigger snappy."
"Trigger happy," Dad corrected.
"There's nothing to be happy about pulling a trigger," replied Mom. "But I think better safe and shooting, than sorry and dead. A stakeout sounds nice and safe. I'm glad you asked me."
Dad coughed again. It hit me why in a rush of clarity. My dad felt left out that I hadn't asked him.
"Dad, would you be able to help with some of the surveillance too?" I asked, wondering why it never occurred to me to ask him before. He spent his entire career on the force. He would have been the perfect one to help me the most. Plus, I suspected he was a little bored in his retirement.
"Oh, I don't know," started Dad, his lips twitching at the edges as he desperately tried to mask his eagerness to jump in.
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