"This is my colleague, Solomon," I told her. "Sorry to stop by without calling, but I hoped you could help us understand a few things."

"About Juliet? Of course. Take a seat," Penelope told us, directing us into a small lounge. "I'll be with you in a minute." She picked up a cleaning cloth and some polish that she'd been using before we interrupted her and walked into what I assumed was the kitchen. We sat on the couch, both of us looking around, taking in her home. The apartment was very neat with simple furnishings. She was clearly a fan of neutrals, judging by the shades of white, beige and soft grays. I spotted a lamp that looked similar to Juliet's and the same woven baskets holding children’s toys. I looked around for photos, but couldn't see any. I did notice some prints with positive thinking messages in typeface. One told us to "Smile!" in bright pink letters on a white background.

"I was just cleaning," Penelope called through the open door. "I try to keep on top of it, but you know how it is with kids?" She appeared again, smiling. "Can I get you a drink? A snack?"

"No, thanks. We won't take up much of your time."

"Okay, so how can I help you?" she asked, sitting in the armchair with her arms folded across her legs. "Have there been any new developments?"

Solomon and I exchanged looks.

"What happened?"

"Juliet and Rob’s house was broken into last night."

"Oh, wow, that's awful! Are they okay?"

"They're fine."

Penelope pressed a hand to her heart. "You worried me for a moment. Was anything stolen?"

"No, just a few things moved around."

"Someone broke into their house to move things around?" Penelope frowned.

"It appears that way."

"How did they break in?"

"We haven't ascertained that yet," said Solomon. "There was no sign of forced entry."

"I don't understand... someone broke in without breaking in? And simply rearranged stuff around?" Penelope's voice contained the same disbelief as anyone else's who heard that story. Reduced to its most basic form, it did sound like a bizarre B&E. Once again, I thought the stalker was playing it smart by not taking anything, or leaving any evidence behind. Why would someone believe Juliet?

"That's what it looks like," I said.

"That's just so odd. I have to say, I'm worried about Juliet. This is all so strange. The mystery of the moving car. The house break-in that wasn't. The arrest..." Penelope trailed off, pulling a face. "She's so stressed, you know."

"It all seems very strange," said Solomon, taking over as I faltered. "Almost to the point of sounding unbelievable."

"I didn't want to say it, but I told Lexi only yesterday when we spoke, how odd I find it. I know Juliet is having a really hard time, and she's my friend, and of course, I love her, but all these weird stories... I'm afraid she's having some kind of breakdown, and I just don't know what to do to help her." Penelope dropped her head into her hands and muffled a sob. "I can't imagine how hard this must be for Rob, to see Juliet like that..." she mumbled from behind her hands. "I've told Juliet she has to go see a doctor. She has to get a therapist for all these... these... paranoid delusions!"

"Paranoid delusions?" I prompted as Penelope sniffled.

Penelope looked up. A tear slipped down her cheek and she hurriedly brushed it away. "I must sound like the worst friend, but I've tried to stand beside her through everything, even when all our other friends warned me..."

"Warned you?" I repeated before she could continue.

"Juliet sent some pretty mean messages to a couple of our friends. Really hurtful, nasty things. I tried to cover for her and said to them, she's just stressed, and she's not thinking properly, and she didn't mean it. It didn't help that Juliet wouldn't apologize and still claims someone else must have sent them. I mean, come on! We all need to act like grownups now. Her attention-seeking behavior is totally unacceptable. I know she's scaring Rob too."

"How do you know that?"

"We spoke yesterday. He said he was worried about her, but still believed her and wanted to support her. I told him he was a really good guy, but to be careful. Juliet is getting so unpredictable. I guess this break-in," she said, holding her fingers up to make air quotes, "is another symptom of her breakdown. She needs help sooner rather than later."

"Do you really believe that's what's happening?" asked Solomon. "Do you believe this is all in Juliet's mind?"

"I can't explain it any other way. I've really, really tried. Like I said, I stood by Juliet even when all our friends ditched her, but this most recent stuff... her arrest, the pretend break-ins... it's... it's getting crazy! I think Juliet has finally gone crazy!"

Chapter Eleven

Penelope's words were still ringing in my ears as I presented myself at the front desk for Lancaster Friedland. Solomon had returned to the agency and I wasn't sure whom to feel sorry for most: Juliet because her world was falling apart, or the people she supposedly abused. With her personal life in tatters, and an alibi that the antenatal clinic did confirm, I felt compelled to find out exactly what happened in Juliet's professional life. Unfortunately, given the receptionist's stony look when I introduced myself, I already had a sinking feeling that I wouldn’t get very far. That was reinforced when Mark Lancaster, Juliet's boss, appeared. As he buttoned the navy wool jacket of his expensive-looking suit, I caught a peek of a Rolex on his wrist, and felt sure his shoes cost no less than a thousand dollars. Business was clearly good.

"Ms. Graves, I don't think I can help you," Mark Lancaster said promptly, taking me to one side of the busy lobby without inviting me into a meeting room, or shaking my hand. "You said Juliet engaged your services?"

"She did shortly before her arrest. Are you her boss? The Lancaster of Lancaster Friedland?"

"Yes, to her boss; and no, to the Lancaster. That was my grandfather. I'm sorry to hurry you, but I have an appointment in ten minutes. What did Juliet send you here for?"

"I'm looking into all aspects of her case and hoped you might be able to suggest who could be doing this to her."

"Let me stop you right there," Mark cut in. "I've heard this stalking story already and it's absolutely absurd. There is no way someone from the outside could infiltrate our firm's systems. We have the best firewalls money can buy, an excellent IT team, and all of our employees undergo mandatory safety training so they know not to share passwords with anyone."

"People make errors all the time. They use passwords that are too simple, and leave laptops unlocked, and hackers can infiltrate any kind of system."

"Not ours," Mark replied with an absolute certainty that dared me to prove otherwise. I dared... in my head, since he seemed so unwilling to believe any other possibility.

"Did you ever let Juliet work from home?" I asked, changing the topic slightly.

"Sure, all our employees do from time-to-time."

"So she was able to access the systems remotely?"

"Well, yes, but only from a secure laptop that she was issued. And before you tell me someone guessed that she used her first dog's name as a password, I can assure you that's not the case. Everyone on our staff is trained to use random strings of letters and numbers that are arcane and unguessable. Not only that, but we insist employees change their passwords every month."