"Gut feeling. Yes, or no?"

"No."

"What do your family and friends think about you being stalked?"

"They think I'm making it up..."

"That you're a liar?"

"No, it's not that. My fiancé trusts me, and I can tell he wants to believe me, but I have nothing to show him. No one tried to attack me. No one tried to break into our house. It's just little stuff. He thinks I need to take some time off work. He even suggested we postpone our wedding if it's that stressful, especially after..." Juliet stopped and sighed, her shoulders dropping.

"After?" I prompted.

"It's stupid. We had a cake tasting for our wedding, and a week later, we got a huge bill. A ten thousand dollar cake! My name and signature was on the receipt, but I never ordered it. Then we got all these other bills for dresses and a venue and thousands of dollars in cut flowers. Thirty chairs turned up with chiffon bows! Rob thought I turned into Bridezilla! I had to cancel my credit card and they're trying to work out whether it was fraud, or if I can be held responsible. But who would order all that stuff, thirty thousand dollars worth, and just send it to me? Lexi, I don't know what to do! After that happened, I knew I had to talk to someone."

I wanted to know how someone could have thirty thousand dollars of credit on their card, but I was too polite to inquire. Plus, I could see my mother's face if I asked such a question. "You didn't go to the police?" I guessed.

"I did and they looked into it, and told me the IP address used on those orders came from my house! They didn't say as much, but they implied that I was obviously trying to wriggle out of the charges after regretting a wild, spending spree. I told them about the stalking and the other weird things, but they... they politely said I was paranoid. If I don't find out who's doing this, I could be liable for tens of thousands of dollars, but it's not just that... whoever is doing this is ruining my life! What if it escalates? I have my fiancé to think about and my stepson. What if someone hurt them to get to me?" Juliet stopped abruptly, her voice rushing to the point where she was barely breathing in her hurry to state her case. She drew a deep breath, reached for her purse, pulled out a tissue and dabbed her eyes. When she looked up again, she seemed more drawn, and not like the confident, curious woman who knocked at my door only minutes ago. "Do you believe me? Do you think I could be a stalking victim?"

I didn't need to take long to make my decision. "Yes, I think it's possible you're being stalked."

"Possible isn't definite," pointed out Juliet.

"I need to take a closer look at your life before I can give you a more definitive answer. And I also need to accept your case in order to prove you are being stalked."

"Please, I'm so afraid. I need you to prove it, find them, and stop them. Just tell me what you need me to pay and I'll pay."

Before I answered, I had another question. "How do you know I can help you? I don't advertise."

"I was referred to you. You helped a friend's friend. I remembered your name and looked for you. Her name is Elisabeth Fong."

I remembered Elisabeth, but it had been a long time since I helped her locate a missing close friend whom everyone else had given up on. It wasn't a case that I ever advertised, and rarely spoke about, so I figured Juliet's answer had to be legitimate. "Okay. You'll need to pay a retainer," I told her. "We can agree on the fees and a cap figure so you won't be overcharged. I'll only take instruction from you so you don't have to worry about anyone else interfering."

Juliet nodded quickly, not even curious as to what my fee might be as she pulled a checkbook from her bag and uncapped a small, silver pen. She wrote the check and handed it to me. I left it lying between us on the desk, although I snuck a glimpse at the number. It was more than I would have asked for. "When can you start?" she asked.

"Now."

Chapter Two

I met Solomon for lunch in a deli midway between Lily's bar and his agency. Since moving to my new premises, the deli was conveniently situated for us both to meet during the day, not that we always had time to meet. One or the other occasionally had surveillance, or other work commitments that scuppered plans but it was nice when we could get together. It also let me temporarily forget that I hadn't stepped inside the agency for months. I assumed I would go there again someday; I just couldn't decide when. Several times, I wondered if Solomon didn't suggest meeting at the agency, or at my office, for the same reason.

This day was particularly pleasant: sunny, a gentle breeze, and blue skies with barely a fluffy cloud. I looked particularly fabulous in my butt-hoisting, skinny jeans, long boots, and a tight sweater. Boosting my mood was an intriguing new case, a retainer check, and Lily's very early cosmo. I had to walk past three bench advertisements with mustaches on the models' faces on the way there, and I couldn't help wondering if I knew the culprit.

"You look happy," said Solomon, sliding into the booth opposite me, mere minutes after I arrived. He looked pretty pleased with himself too, but I doubted it was because three women at the neighboring table checked him out on his way in. Whether he noticed their appreciative glances was something I never figured out since he never missed anything, but failed to react. He was extremely good at making sure his attention was always fixed on me, which was exactly the way I liked it. Perhaps my early morning decision of skinny jeans and tight sweater figured into that.

"So do you. Good day?" I asked, in my usual ambiguous way. I had a vague curiosity about his work as well as an unwillingness to actually look too interested. That was just in case he thought I missed working with him. Frequently, I had to remind myself that I was the one who walked away from the agency, and the coterie of interesting jobs that arrived at its doors. Solomon never pleaded with me to return, and I wasn't sure how I felt about that. I was pretty sure, however, how I felt about his biceps under the rolled sleeves of his inky-blue shirt.

"Very. I've taken an intriguing new case."

"Too interesting to hand down to the guys?" I asked. I was referring to my former investigative colleagues, Fletcher, Flaherty and Delgado - first names optional. All three were seasoned law enforcement professionals, whose credentials trumped my own. However Solomon kept me on for my smarts, my intuition... and because people all too frequently treated me like I was dumb. Simply stated: I could get into the places three hard-assed men that people picked off as cops a mile away couldn't. People took one look at my style choices and shiny hair before losing all traces of suspicion. That ensured I was assigned a number of high profile, and occasionally dangerous, cases which I handled successfully.

"I have a client who suspects an employee of insider trading. Financial crimes interest me."

"Why is that?" I asked. "I mean, I know you enjoy cases with financial motives, but why this one insider trading case?"

"Something about it."

"Go on," I prompted as the waitress proffered a pair of menus and immediately launched into that day's specials. She spoke so fast, all I could do was gawk. "So what'll it be?" she finished.

"I have no idea," I told her. "What was the third option?"

"I don't know."