The Stares of Strangers

by Jennifer L. Jennings

  A short pause. “I have to be in court for the better part of the day. If you have the time, why don't you pay him a visit?”

  “I'm on it.”

  As soon as I ended the call, I checked my email and found the attached file. Brandon's driver's license photo revealed a completely different person from whom I was expecting to see. He resembled an adolescent nerd, complete with dark rimmed glasses, acne and a unibrow. He was twenty-three years old, brown eyes, brown hair, five-eleven and 155 pounds. The kid had to be skin and bones scrawny to be that height and weight. What had Penny seen in this guy? She really must have been drunk when she slept with him. Perhaps he gave a better impression in person. I was eager to find out.

  As I grabbed my purse and car keys, I considered calling Carter to tell him about the new development, but he was probably fast asleep. No point in bothering him. I could handle Brandon on my own.

  Chapter 13

  I got in my car and headed to the historic section of downtown Bridgeport. In the winter months, I can actually get a parking spot unless the snow banks prevent it. The roads are narrow and, if there are even a few inches of snow, they city workers have to come and truck the excess away.

  Brandon Whitman's address led me straight to the most prestigious area in all of Bridgeport. I realized there's no way a young kid of twenty-three could afford to even rent an apartment on this street lined with pristine Victorian homes.

  He must still live with his parents.

  When I located number 333, I opted to park on the road instead of the driveway. I cinched up my coat, hit the sidewalk and walked up the front stairs to the house. Must have been in the single digits with the wind chill. Having lived in New England all my life, you’d think I’d be used to this by now.

  The person who opened the door was an elderly gentleman with a perfectly groomed white beard, wearing a wool Irish cap. He reminded me of a professor with his tweed jacket.

  “Hello, sir,” I said with a bright smile. “I'm looking for Brandon Whitman. I was told he lives here.”

  The man inspected my face with pursed lips, his eyes the clearest blue color I've ever seen. “Yes, may I ask what this is about?”

  “I just want to ask him a few questions in regard to a case I'm working on.”

  “A case?” The man's eyes widened in interest. “A police investigation?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is he in trouble?”

  “No, nothing like that.” I tried to look past him into the house, but he blocked my view. “Is Brandon home?”

  “Why don't you give me your card,” he said firmly. “And I'll see that he gets it.”

  “Are you his father?” I asked, although the man seemed much older than that. I figured the compliment might endear him to me.

  The man raised an eyebrow, but he showed no signs of warming up to me. “I didn't catch your name.”

  “Oh, I'm sorry. My name is Sarah Woods.” I reached into my purse and retrieved a card. “Here you go. Please give that to Brandon.”

  He held the card close to his face and peered at it. “A private detective?”

  “Yes, that's me. And what is your name?”

  He slid the card into an inside pocket of his sport coat and said, “I'll make sure my grandson gets your information. Good day, Ms. Woods.”

  And then he shut the door in my face. So much for warm, New England hospitality.

  As I walked back to my car, I knew I'd never get a call from Brandon, even if the old man gave him my card. Nope, I'd have to find another way to approach him.

  I decided to drive down the street, make a U-turn and park my car facing the house. I would sit and wait for Brandon to emerge. I'm not sure why, but I had a feeling he was home.

  Turns out, I was right about that. Twenty minutes later, a blue BMW with a dent in the bumper backed out of the driveway; the person behind the wheel looked exactly like Brandon. Here we go. I shifted into drive, pulled out into the road, and followed him.

  Where was he going? At nine o'clock in the morning, he was probably heading to work but, a few miles down the road, he pulled into Starbucks and parked. He went inside, carrying a laptop bag.

  I seriously doubted he worked at Starbucks, so I pulled into the parking lot and snagged a parking spot next to him.

  I decided to wait in my car for five minutes before going inside. I wanted him to get settled first.

  As I got in line, I noticed that Brandon was already sitting at a table by himself. He was typing on his laptop, a coffee cup and a scone resting on the table beside him.

  I ordered a coffee for myself and looped back around to where Brandon had set up camp. Luckily for me, the place was fairly empty.

  I really didn't have a plan. Sometimes it's best to let the scene play out organically. You can never predict how someone will react, but you should account for the fact that he or she might become hostile. Approaching a potential suspect is always best to do in a public location, just in case things get out of hand.

  “Hey, Brandon. What's up?” I helped myself to a chair at his table and sat down. “What kind of scone is that? Cranberry?”

  Brandon looked up from his laptop and blinked at me, irritably. “Excuse me?”

  “Hey, I stopped by your house this morning. Did your grandfather give you my card?”

  He paused and gave the slightest smirk. “No, who are you?”

  Right off the bat, I knew Brandon was a liar, and not a very good one. “Oh,” I said, pretending to believe him. “My name is Sarah Woods. I just have a few questions for you, that's all. It'll only take a minute.”

  He inclined his head toward his laptop. “I'm busy.”

  “I'm sure you are. Look, you can talk to me now, or you can talk to Officer Bouchard later. It's your choice.”

  He rolled his eyes. “What's this all about?”

  “Penny Graham.”

  “Who is that?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest, to let him know I wasn't buying it. “The girl you had a one night stand with a few months ago?”

  His wicked smile revealed a set of crooked lower teeth. “Oh, yeah, that Penny.”

  I had the urge to slap his smug little face, but the freak would probably enjoy it. I decided I wasn’t going to play nice anymore. “I guess you were a little pissed when she blew you off, huh?”

  He shrugged. “Not really. She's not as hot as she thinks she is.”

  I lowered my voice. “Then why did you go into her house and steal her underwear?”

  He laughed but also seemed surprised. “What?”

  “You heard me. You also took some pictures of her from outside her bedroom window. Tell me, Brandon, do you have a panty fetish?”

  He stared at me, wide-eyed, as if he'd seen pigs fly out of my ears. “What are you talking about, lady?”

  Maybe he wasn't such a bad liar after all. This kid seemed truly perplexed. I felt like backing down but it was too late. I was firmly ensconced in this bitchy attitude I had going on.

  “Let's not play games,” I said, keeping my cool. “Here's how this is going down. You stay away from Penny. If you ever go near her, or her house, again we will file a restraining order and, this time, it will be permanent. I know all about Amy Henderson.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Who told you? That's private information.”

  “Tell me, did you steal her underwear, too?”

  Brandon slid his chair back and it made a loud scraping sound on the floor. “Look, lady, I've never stolen anything in my life.” He slapped his laptop shut and stuffed it into his bag. He grabbed his coffee and scone and headed for the exit.

  I hadn't wanted to cause a scene, but a few other people sitting at other tables were curiously looking in my direction. I smiled at them as I got to my feet. “Sorry about that. Just a misunderstanding.”

  I followed Brandon out to his car, practically running after him. “Hey, wait up,” I called out.

  Before getting into his car, he looked me square in
the eyes and said, “If you don't leave me alone, I will sue you for harassment. My father's a lawyer and he'll throw your ass in jail.”

  I stepped an inch closer. “Fine, have it your way. I thought maybe we could settle this without the police getting involved, but it looks like you're unwilling to cooperate.”

  He held up a rigid hand, as if he wanted to hit me. “Search my house if you want, lady, because I never stole a damned thing from anyone especially not from that hag, Penny. You hear me?”

  I didn't cower from his threatening stance. I wanted him to know that I wasn't afraid of his scrawny, punk ass. “Yeah, I hear you.”

  “Good luck getting a search warrant, by the way.” And with that, he got into his car and started the engine. He flipped me the bird as he drove out of the parking lot.

  Chapter 14

  I sat in my car in the Starbucks parking lot, wondering what to do next. I decided to look up Amy Henderson to see if she'd talk to me about Brandon.

  There were three Amy Henderson's listed in the directory. I tried all three numbers and got lucky on the second try.

  “Am I speaking to the Amy who filed a restraining order against a Brandon Whitman?”

  “Uh, yes, that's me” she said, hesitantly. “What's this about?”

  “My name is Sarah Woods. My client is a young woman like you,” I said, “who might be having some trouble with Brandon. Would you be willing to meet with me and talk?”

  “Um, well, I’m at work. What do you want to know?”

  “Why did you file the restraining order in the first place? Did Brandon hurt you? Threaten you?”

  She lowered her voice. “I can't really talk about this now. I go on my lunch break in an hour if you want to meet me.”

  “Yes, just tell me where to go and I'll be there.”

  “The Creperie, you know it?”

  I wrote it down in my notebook. “Yes, I've been there before.”

  “Just ask someone at the counter to come find me. I work in the kitchen.”

  * * *

  The Creperie is a small establishment, cozy and warm, but big on charm. There were only four small tables, three booths, and a bar with four stools that overlooked the kitchen area. The walls were painted in a bright lemon color, the wooden tables and chairs painted lime green and turquoise. I liked the effect: fruity Caribbean meets quaint European - and it smelled good. Butter, sugar and yeast mingled with coffee.

  Two of the tables were occupied, but the place was relatively quiet. I approached the counter and asked for Amy.

  A few moments later, I couldn't believe my eyes when the young Asian American girl appeared at my side. So petite, she probably weighed less than a hundred pounds. It became apparent that Brandon had a thing for Asian girls.

  “Amy?” I held out my hand. “Sarah Woods. So nice to meet you.”

  Her hand was tiny and delicate, and I thought I might crush her with the slightest pressure.

  She gestured to a private area against the wall. “Let's sit.”

  “Perfect,” I said. “I really appreciate you taking the time. Can I buy you something to eat?”

  She smiled, placing a hand on her belly. “I'm not that hungry right now, but thanks.”

  Once we were seated, she folded her hands in her lap and stared at me with wide eyes. “So, what's going on with Brandon?”

  “I'd like to know if he's a dangerous person. I think he's the one who's stalking my client. Whatever information you can give me about him would help tremendously.”

  Amy swallowed hard. “Brandon is very insecure, which is why he tries to act so tough. He's probably harmless, though.”

  “Then why did you file the temporary restraining order a few years ago?”

  She seemed embarrassed to talk about it. “We dated a few times. Honestly, he wasn't my cup of tea. When I tried to break things off with him, he became confrontational. Wouldn't take no for an answer. He'd call and text several times an hour. He'd drive by my house or work. If I went to the grocery store, he'd just happen to be there. I didn't know how to deal with it so my girlfriend convinced me to file the restraining order, to get him off my back.”

  “Did it work?” I asked.

  “Yes. He left me alone after that. Haven't heard from him since.”

  I had to admit, Brandon had not attempted to contact Penny in months, so why would he be taunting her now? It didn't seem to fit his modus operandi. “If you don't mind my asking, how did you and Brandon first meet?”

  “My girlfriends had taken me out to a club for my twenty-first birthday. Brandon bought all of us drinks for the entire night. He seemed sweet and generous but, after a few dates, he became so possessive it started to get weird.”

  I nodded. “I know this will sound bizarre, but did Brandon ever steal articles of clothing from you? Intimate articles like bras or underwear?”

  She made a face. “No, I don't think so.”

  “Did he seem particularly fascinated with your undergarments, or lingerie? Did he ever insist on taking pictures of you in them?”

  She shook her head. “No. Why?”

  I leaned back in my chair with a sigh. “Well, that's what happened to my client. Someone stole her intimates and I was hoping Brandon was our guy but, now, it doesn't make sense. Unless he's become bolder with his fetishes.”

  Amy mashed her lips together, seemingly lost for words, and shrugged.

  “Anyway,” I said. “I'll let you get back to work. You're a sweetheart to talk to me about this, really. You've helped shed some light on the situation.”

  “No problem. Hope everything works out.”

  Chapter 15

  After my talk with Amy, I headed straight to Carter's house to tell him about the latest developments. He gave me a long hug when I walked in.

  “Have you been sleeping all day?” I asked, running my fingers through his hair. “You have major bed head.”

  “Yeah, just got up a few minutes ago. My inner clock is all messed up.”

  I padded to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. “Well, I've had a busy morning. I had an interesting chat with Brandon Whitman, the boy Penny had a fling with. Come to find out, his ex-girlfriend had filed a temporary restraining order against him a few years ago.”

  Carter perked up. “Sounds like he might be our guy.”

  “That's what I thought, too. I went to his house and followed him to Starbucks, where I made an attempt to have a civil conversation with him. He got all defensive, basically threatened to sue me for harassment.”

  “Nice job getting under his skin.”

  “Yeah, well, he told me his father is a lawyer, as if that's supposed to scare me.”

  “What's your impression of him?”

  “He's not a looker but it's obvious his family has money. He's a smart ass, too.”

  “But ...”

  “But, according to Penny, he hasn't tried getting in touch with her. Why, after two months, would he suddenly decide to mess with her?”

  Carter didn't have an answer to that. “Have you spoken to Penny about this?”

  “Not yet. But she’s gonna be home by three.” I checked my watch. “One of us should be there when she does.”

  “Let's go together.” Carter stood up and headed to the bathroom. “I'll take a quick shower, grab my stuff and be ready in ten.”

  * * *

  Luckily, we showed up at Penny's house just minutes before she arrived. Carter helped her with the grocery bags as we went inside, then excused himself to go check the perimeter of the house and exchange the batteries in the surveillance cameras.

  As Penny began putting away the groceries, I proceeded to tell her about my encounter with Brandon.

  “You actually tracked him down?” she said, excitedly. “That was fast. What did he have to say?”

  I kept it short and sweet. “Basically, I warned him to stay away from you.”

  “So you really think it's him?”

  I shrugged. “He fits the profile:
a history of stalking other women, feels entitled because he comes from money, and ...”

  “…and he's into Asian chicks.” Penny blurted out. “Is that what you were gonna say?”

  I paused. “Yes.”

  Penny chuckled. “You'd be amazed at how many guys fantasize about Asians. There are dozens of websites dedicated to it.”

  Her cavalier attitude struck me as odd. I was starting to get the feeling that this whole stalker business didn't bother her in the least. Not once had she mentioned feeling afraid, violated or confused about what was happening to her. In fact, she really seemed to be enjoying the attention people were giving to her.

  I decided I would try a little experiment.

  “So Penny, here's what I think.” I watched her expression closely. “There's really no need for Carter and me to watch the house anymore after tonight. We can keep the hidden cameras in place for a bit longer but, our full-time involvement is costing your parents a lot of money.”

  Penny stared at me, her dark eyes disbelieving. “But you said I was in danger. What if my stalker decides to get violent?”

  The way she said my stalker sent a chill up my spine. It was as if she took ownership of the idea like it was something to be proud of. “If you're really concerned for your safety, Penny, then maybe you should move into a nice hotel for a while. One that has security guards in the lobby. I'm sure your parents will be happy to pay for it.”

  If Penny was insulted by my subtle sarcasm, she didn't let on. “I know they would, but that's not the point. I like to stay here with Jess and Caleb.”

  I decided to let the discussion drop when Carter entered the kitchen. “Everything looks good around here, guys,” he said, giving me a nod that we could go.

  With my eyes, I let Carter know that I needed just a few more minutes alone with Penny. He got the hint and retreated into the living room.

  I turned back to Penny. She was slicing up carrots and humming a tune to herself like she hadn't a care in the world. “So, what are your plans this evening?” I asked. “You staying in?”

  “Yep. I'm making chicken stew for Jess and Caleb tonight. It's their favorite.”