The Stares of Strangers

by Jennifer L. Jennings

  The Stares of Strangers

  Sarah Woods Mystery 14

  By

  Jennifer L. Jennings

  Copyright © 2015

  Query Publishing, LLC

  All Rights Reserved

  Chapter 1

  Bridgeport, New Hampshire

  Sunday, December 7

  10:45 a.m.

  When I got the call from Penny Stuart Sunday morning, my bogus radar was on high alert.

  “Are you Sarah Woods, the private detective?” By the high-pitched voice, I surmised she was young. Early twenties, perhaps.

  “That’s me,” I said. “How can I help you?”

  She cleared her throat. “Well, it’s kind of embarrassing. You see, someone broke into my house this morning while I was at work and—stole all my underwear. Even the ones in my hamper. All my bras and swimsuits are gone, too.”

  I swallowed the laugh bubbling up in my throat. Clearly, by the serious tone of her voice, this was no joke. At least, not to her. “I see. Well, it sounds like a perverted prank to me. Maybe a friend just wanted to get a rise out of you. Do you have any idea who?”

  “It has to be my ex-boyfriend Trent Olson.”

  “And what do you think his motivation was for stealing your underwear?” I asked.

  She sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s pissed because I won’t return his calls.”

  “How did he get inside your place? Does he have a key?”

  “I never gave him a key. He might have come in through a window, but none of the windows or latches is broken.”

  I grabbed a pen and my notebook. This case was beginning to peak my interest after all. “You said his name is Trent Olson. Does he have a criminal record?”

  “I don't think so.”

  “Have you tried calling him, to confront him about this?”

  “Yes, I called - but his cell phone is turned off. I had a friend drive by his apartment but his truck wasn't there.”

  Giving myself a moment to think it over, I finally said, “Penny, I’d like to help you but what exactly would you like me to do about this?”

  “Get my underwear back. I mean, as a woman, you know how expensive underwear is, right?”

  Indeed, but I personally wasn't in the habit of spending more than a few dollars on a pair of undies. “I charge a hundred bucks an hour for my time. You could go out and purchase new underwear for that or you could just call the police to report a theft.”

  “I don’t want the police involved - they won’t take this seriously. If I confront Trent on my own, then he’ll know he’s gotten to me which is probably what he wants. If I hire you to take care of it, then he’ll know I mean business. Truth is, I don’t want to get him in trouble, I just want him to return my things and leave me alone.”

  At least she had the good sense to keep herself distanced from this guy. He sounded like an obsessive creep to me but hiring a private investigator? “Before I decide to take this job, I’d like to speak with you in person. When are you available to meet?”

  “I’ll be here at my house for the rest of the day,” she said. “When can you come?”

  I checked my watch. I had dinner plans with Carter at seven, which left me plenty of time. “I’d like to do a quick background check on Trent first, then I’ll be on my way.”

  Chapter 2

  Bridgeport, New Hampshire is a seacoast town nestled between southern Maine and northern Massachusetts. In the summer months, this place is swarming with tourists clamoring to visit the cultural and historical sites. In the winter months, the place is a ghost town. This winter has been especially harsh, with record breaking snowfall and frigid temperatures.

  Penny Stuart lived in a one story ranch home on a quiet residential street. Three cars were parked in the driveway and I wondered how many people actually lived in this small house. With the snow banks piled up over six feet high, there was no place for me to park my Toyota. My only alternative was to park on the street and hope that nobody would sideswipe me. Thankfully, there was little traffic on the road.

  When the door opened, a girl in her early twenties stood there smiling at me. She had reddish blonde curly hair and freckles. “You must be Sarah,” she said.

  I shook her hand and realized this couldn’t be Penny because the voice sounded different. “Are you a friend of Penny’s?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I’m Jessica. I live here too. Come on inside. Penny will be out of the shower soon.”

  “Thanks.”

  Jessica led me into a casual sitting room where two mismatched sofas made an L shape with a coffee table in the center. “Can I get you a glass of water or something?”

  “No thanks, I’m fine.” I removed my jacket and took a seat on the couch. Glancing around, the décor was clearly a hodgepodge of eclectic tastes, like a glorified dorm room with mostly feminine touches.

  She sat down on the other sofa, facing me, elbows resting on her knees. Her intense green eyes stared at me but I got the sense she didn't know what to say. She glanced over her shoulder toward the hallway with a slightly irritated look. “I'm sure she'll be out very soon.”

  “No worries,” I said. “I'm a little early, anyway.”

  She turned back to face me and smiled tentatively as if embarrassed. “So, I guess Penny told you what happened with her underwear. Have you ever had a case like this before?”

  I stifled a laugh. “No, this is a first for me but, then again, I've only been in this business for a few years. My partner Carter has been a private detective for over a decade and a cop before that. He's never seen a case like this, though.”

  “Why didn’t he come with you today?” she asked.

  Carter hadn’t seemed the slightest bit interested in the case of the missing underwear. He trusted that I’d be able to handle this one on my own. “He had other business to finish up,” I said, leaving it at that.

  Jessica's eyes wandered around the room, as if she didn't know what else to talk about. Finally she asked, “So, do you carry a gun?”

  “No. Just pepper spray.” I tapped my purse. “It never leaves my side.”

  I figured I should take this opportunity to ask Jessica a few questions. “How long have you and Penny lived here together?”

  She tilted her head and began fondling her red curls. “Almost three months but we've known each other since we were twelve. We both grew up in San Diego but I moved out here a few years ago. I finally convinced Penny to come too. Her parents are so protective and I'm surprised they let her.”

  I wondered why two young girls would leave sunny, warm San Diego to deal with New England winters. Only two reasons I could think of: college or boys.

  At the sound of footsteps on carpeting, I looked up to see an attractive girl heading towards me, a towel wrapped around her head. She had a petite, slim figure with dark skin and exotic slanted eyes. I supposed she might be Asian or Hawaiian, but it was hard to pinpoint her nationality.

  “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting,” she said. “I'm Penny.”

  I stood up to shake her hand. “Sarah Woods. Nice to meet you.”

  “You got here quicker than I expected.” She removed the towel from her head, and finger combed through her long black hair, pushing it all back from her face. The essence of coconut and tropical fruit filled the room, probably from her shampoo or soap. She draped the towel over her arm as she sat next to Jessica on the couch facing me.

  “No problem,” I said. “It gave me a chance to get acquainted with Jessica.”

  Jessica turned to Penny and patted her shoulder. “I'll give you guys some privacy. I’ll be in my room with Caleb if you need me, okay?”

  Penny gave her a quick hug. “Thanks for being so
understanding. Tell Caleb I'm sorry for throwing that little tantrum earlier.”

  “Don't worry about it,” she said. “If someone stole all my underwear, I'd be freaking out, too.” Jessica padded down the hallway, waving goodbye to me as she went.

  Once Penny and I were alone, I retrieved a notebook from my purse. “So I did a basic background check on Trent Olson. He's got a few speeding tickets but no criminal record. I couldn't find a current employer, though. Does he have a job?”

  “He was working with his dad for a while, roofing. He hurt his back about a month ago. His doctor gave him some Percocet but that didn't seem to help, so he's been on Oxy. The stuff makes him moody and paranoid.”

  “Let's back up a little so I can get a better understanding of your relationship. How did you meet Trent?”

  “Jessica's boyfriend Caleb fixed us up.”

  I showed her a picture of Trent's driver’s license I'd printed out from the DMV records. “I just want to confirm this is Trent - twenty-five years old, five-eleven with brown eyes and blonde hair.”

  She glanced at the paper in my hand. “Yep, that's him.”

  In the photo, Trent's hair seemed to be bleached blonde, not matching his dark eyebrows. He also had a skull tattoo on his neck. “Any idea what that tattoo is supposed to mean?” I asked.

  She rolled her eyes. “He thought he wanted to be a punk rocker back in high school. He was the lead guitarist in a high school band called The Skullheads.”

  A punk rocker is exactly what he looked like to me. He'd actually be a handsome kid if he wasn't trying so hard. “So you think he stole your underwear as retaliation for you breaking up with him?”

  She bit her lip and shrugged. “I guess.”

  “And if you don't mind me asking, why did you break up with him? Had he become abusive?”

  “No, nothing like that. I decided I didn't want a boyfriend. I'm too young to be tied down.”

  I figured an attractive girl like her had gotten a better offer. “Are you dating anyone right now?”

  She diverted her eyes. “No. Not at the moment.”

  “Is this Trent's first attempt to mess with you, or have there been other incidents?”

  She appeared to think it over. “No, this is the first time he's done anything like this. Like I told you, he's pissed because I won't return his calls.”

  I jotted down some notes then took a few minutes to think it over. “The fact that he came into your house and took intimate things tells me it’s more than some kind of payback. If he wanted to send a message, he could have posted rotten things about you on Facebook, or slashed your tires. This sounds more like an obsession to me which could lead to stalking. Have you had the feeling of being watched?”

  She blinked at me, apparently lost for words. “Um, well, now that you mention it, yes. I mean, I haven’t actually seen Trent following me but I've had this weird sense, it’s hard to explain.”

  “Some stalkers are harmless, but you’d be surprised at the percentage of them who resort to violence.”

  Penny shook her head. “Trent isn’t the violent type.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Well, you said it yourself. He doesn’t have a criminal record.”

  “True, but there’s a first time for everything. Penny, I suggest you go to the police station and file a report. Let the cops handle this.”

  She ran her fingers through her hair again, a nervous look in her eyes. “If I report this to the police, Trent will get in trouble. I don't want that.” She leaned over and grabbed her cell phone. “Look, I can show you the texts he's been sending me. He's not an asshole or a creep, he's just depressed.”

  I scanned through them from the past week. All the texts were short, but there were at least two or three every day.

  Please call me, we should talk.

  I miss you. I promise I’ll change.

  I need to talk to you now.

  Why aren't you returning my calls?

  I need to see you. I'm going insane.

  Why are you doing this to me? What did I do wrong?

  Stop being such a bitch!

  I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to call you a bitch.

  Why do you think you're better than me?

  I swear, if you don't call me back, I'm gonna freak out!

  None of the texts seemed threatening, per se, but the tone of them certainly conveyed desperation. “Penny, you never responded to any of these texts?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, well, I'm just curious. Why haven't you deleted these texts if you have no intention of replying?”

  She shrugged casually. “I don't know. Is that important?”

  I handed her phone back. “How would Trent have gotten inside the house? Does he have a key?”

  “I never gave him one.”

  “What about Jessica's boyfriend, Caleb? You mentioned they were friends. Maybe Trent got his key and made a copy for himself?”

  Penny looked down at her hands, as if embarrassed. “To be honest, we're not really good about keeping the house locked up. This is a nice neighborhood and we've never had a problem.”

  I glanced toward the hall and made a gesture. “Do you think Caleb would mind talking to me? I just want to ask a few questions about Trent.”

  Penny hesitated before standing up. “Um, I guess I could go ask him, but I don't really want Caleb or Jessica to be put in the middle of all this. It's my problem, not theirs.”

  “I'm sure they'd want to help resolve this issue,” I said.

  Penny left the room and moments later she returned with Jessica and a tall, lanky boy with chiseled features and a shaved head. I put him around twenty-three to twenty-five years old. He wore baggy jeans and a tight t-shirt that showed the cut muscles underneath.

  “Hey, I'm Caleb.” His voice was baritone, a little on the gravelly side. “So what's up?”

  “Hi, I'm Sarah. I understand you and Trent are good friends.”

  He shrugged. “We used to be.”

  “What do you make of this whole situation?” I asked. “Have you tried calling him? Maybe you can talk some sense into the guy, tell him to return Penny's things.”

  “Yeah, well I tried but he won't answer his cell phone. I drove by his apartment 'bout an hour ago but his pickup truck wasn't there.”

  “What kind of pick-up?” I asked.

  “An F150. It's kind of a clunker.”

  I made note of that. “Do you really think he's responsible for stealing Penny's things?”

  Caleb frowned. “Trent's been going through a tough time, lately. I guess I wouldn't put anything past him.”

  I nodded. “Has he ever done anything like this before, with other girlfriends?”

  “Nope. Trent hasn't dated many girls. I think Penny was the first one he really fell for.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  Caleb rubbed his stubbly head as if summoning the correct answer. “Few weeks ago, I guess. We hung out at his place and had a few beers.”

  “Do you think he's been stalking Penny? Following her around - stuff like that?”

  “I don’t know, maybe. But if he has, he doesn’t mean any harm by it.”

  I could tell that Caleb was just trying to defend his friend, but I also sensed some doubt in his tone. “Okay, thank you” I said, making a few notations in my notebook. “I guess that's all I need for now.”

  Caleb and Jessica exchanged a glance then headed back to her room, hand in hand.

  Penny rubbed her hands together and seemed eager to wrap up our meeting. “So, if you'll go talk to Trent for me, I can pay you two hundred bucks. It's worth it to me.”

  I was about to say she really didn't need to employ the services of a private detective but I also didn't want to turn down a job. Two hundred bucks is a car payment and nothing to sneeze at. “Are you sure? It's quite possible that Trent will eventually come to his senses and return your things without me getting involved.”

&
nbsp; Penny shook her head as she dug into her purse. She handed me two hundred bucks in cold hard cash. “I want to send him a message that I'm not impressed with this little stunt.”

  “I understand. I'll do my best to convey that message. By the way, does he have a roommate that I have to worry about?”

  “No. He lives alone. Except for his guinea pig, Ralph.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “He has a guinea pig named Ralph?”

  “Yep. He loves that thing. Although I don't know why because it stinks like crazy.”

  Chapter 3

  Trent lived in a new condo development across town called Riverside Terrace. The name made it sound more appealing than it really was. Basically, three drab structures had been erected with the sole purpose of providing low income housing.

  I thanked my lucky stars when I noticed a pickup truck in the parking lot. Maybe this job would turn out to be an easy one after all. Perhaps Trent would listen to reason, return Penny's things, and apologize for being an idiot. Of course, that was best case scenario, something I've learned not to expect.

  I parked my Toyota next to the pickup, figuring I could casually peek inside the windows on my way to the building complex. Not that I thought he'd leave the underwear in plain view, but it was worth a look.

  Trent's truck was a messy garbage heap inside: crumpled Burger King bags, empty bottles of soda, used napkins, even a half-eaten slice of pizza on the passenger-side seat. There was a dirty looking t-shirt on the floor, but no underwear.

  As I walked across the parking lot toward the front entrance, I passed a middle-aged woman smoking a cigarette, dressed in a thin sweatshirt and black leggings. She didn’t seem to notice me as I slipped past her and into the building.

  Trent lived in building C, unit 4, which was on the second floor. Surprised to find a lack of security measures, I simply strolled through the foyer and up the first flight of stairs. I kept my hand inside my coat pocket with the pepper-spray, just in case. I knocked three times on the door of unit 4 and waited.