Chapter 29

“There is ever a flaw, however, in the best laid of human plans.”

-Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Five Orange Pips

Thursday Morning

It was 5 AM. Although my eyes were open, I wasn’t technically awake. I wanted to stay in bed and pull up the covers. I missed Mitch, I was worried about Tom, and truth be told, my heart still ached for Scotty Stuart.

It had turned colder. Strong winds whistled around my building rattling the windows. Another typical April day in Chicago. The TV weather girl pointed to a frigid Canadian front bearing down on Chicago - unusual but not unheard of for April. Maybe it would snow. An April snow would blast all the early spring flowers and shrubs, and they’d never recover.

I picked out a mint green blouse with white pants and my black Dinali jacket. Hopefully the green was a harbinger of coming spring and would cheer Tom when I visited. Maybe it would cheer me too.

It would be a little past noon in Paris right now, so I took a chance and phoned Mitch. Again, no answer. This time I didn’t bother leaving a message.

After yesterday, I was hungry. I fixed a bowl of Cheerios and a cup of coffee. Then I fed the Cavalier and remembered to put the shirtpocket video camcorder I’d bought last month in my jacket. It had cost me over $600, but it records in 3-D. I wanted to be prepared and hoped it would help me get the goods on the stalker.

I made good time, and it was 6:10 AM when I parked a few spaces behind Woodley. Just like the other day, he pulled out and left immediately. I wondered what was up with him.

I called the desk at United Insurance to check yesterday’s report from George and Woodley’s overnight report. The service said both reports listed no activity. How long was Goodson going to sanction this surveillance? Everybody is guilty of something, as they say, and maybe Ms. Romani was guilty of something other than scamming. Maybe she really did fall and injure herself. Of course, if that were the case, Goodson’s reputation was in the tank.

My cell vibrated. It was Dieter, my mechanic.

“I’m still worrying about dose slashed tires, DD. Is dis stalking episode now over?” Dieter asked.

Dieter is always looking out for me. I could envision his sky blue eyes looking concerned and his hands, as ever, a little greasy. He treats me like he’s my big brother. We’ve shared a lot of car talk and life-talk over some great German beers in the back of his shop. I keep telling him he’s in the wrong business. He should be an advice columnist.

“Not exactly.”

“You mean you did not yet find the creep? Haf you reported dis to the police like I told you?”

“Not yet. I’m thinking about it, but I’m hoping I won’t have to.”

“So do you need some help? Do you vant to stay wid us?” Dieter’s wife was a doll, and she would welcome me with open arms. I knew the invitation was from his heart.

“Thanks, Dieter. I really appreciate the invitation. But I’m not going to let some creep chase me out of my apartment.”

“You haf got to promise to cut off dat creep’s balls when you find him.”

“Believe me, I will. By the way, did you bill me for the new tires?”

“It is on your tab. Und I give you a good discounted price. Did you see I put on new Michelins? They vill last forever and take you round a corner like you are in the arms of an angel.”

The rest of the shift was quiet. George called to say he’d been a little late yesterday morning relieving Woodley, but Woodley hadn’t spoken to him, just took off like he’s been doing with me. George also promised to pick up Tom’s Caravan and leave it in the Billings Hospital parking lot.

Woodley showed up at 6 PM on the dot. As soon as I saw him, I streaked out and headed for Billings.