"Is Penelope your only suspect?"
Once again, I glanced toward Solomon. I don’t know if I sought reassurance, or direction, but when he remained motionless, I continued talking. "Unfortunately, not. Our biggest concern is the access she has to your home and work life."
"Shouldn't she have a motive? Penelope is the only person who stood by us."
"That's exactly the problem. Your colleagues are suspicious of you, and your employers are investigating you. All your other friends feel alienated..."
"Penelope got weird texts from me too! We spoke about it, and later agreed that it must have been some kind of crossed text from another line."
"When did you speak about this last?"
"Last week. So you see? Penelope is a victim too," continued Juliet, determined to squelch our suspicions. If I were she, I wouldn't want to believe them either. We didn't give her any hard evidence, and even the motive was weak.
"Penelope didn't mention it when I spoke with her," I said, puzzled at that apparently forgotten morsel of information. Why wouldn't Penelope have mentioned it when I questioned her about the other incidents? It seemed too important to leave out.
"It could have slipped her mind, especially as we agreed it was probably a crossed text. I guess it could have been a nuisance one. All is fine between Penelope and me, and if it weren’t for her help and generosity, I don't know what we'd do. I think you need to look at someone else. Maybe a colleague from work. My assistant could be behind this. I told you she claimed I fired her."
"We spoke with her already. She has an alibi for the night you were broken into."
"But she could have accessed my emails."
"She could have, but I don't think she did."
"But you think Penelope would? She doesn't know my passwords! And how would she get my bank card?"
"Why don't you check your purse?" suggested Solomon. I jumped at the sound of his voice. I never heard him arrive.
"Why?" asked Juliet.
"Just check it. Tell me if anything is missing."
"Okay. I think it's in the kitchen." Juliet turned away with frown lines etched across her forehead as she walked towards the kitchen.
"What are you up to?" I asked Solomon.
He put a finger to his lips. "Wait and see."
Juliet returned with her purse in hand. She dropped onto the armchair and rifled through it. "I don't think anything is... wait! My credit cards are missing."
"These?" asked Solomon, leaning over to hand her two cards.
"Yes. How did you..." Juliet checked the cards. "These are mine."
"Anything else?" he asked, ignoring her question.
"I think twenty dollars is gone, but I'm not sure."
"Actually," grinned Delgado, producing a couple of crumpled bills, "it was thirty. Here."
Juliet took her cards and money, stuffing them into her purse. "I don't get it."
"I took your cards only minutes after we arrived and instructed Delgado to take something from your purse when he could. The point, Juliet, is to show you that even when you're in the house, your private things can be stolen, and even returned, without your knowing. Take another look in your purse."
We watched as Juliet opened her wallet, searching through the compartments. Finally, she unsnapped the middle money section and extracted a small piece of paper. "What's this?" she asked, unfolding it.
"Read it out loud," instructed Solomon.
"I can put things in your purse without you knowing too," Juliet read. She looked up as she snapped her wallet shut. "Okay, I get your point. You can take things and put them back without me knowing, so someone else could have too. That's what you mean, isn't it? That Penelope could have easily done the same?"
Solomon gave a curt nod. "Yes, and that includes anyone you trust to be inside your house. They could do the same thing when your back is turned."
"I still don't believe Penelope would do something like that. She's the mother of Rob's son! I had nothing to do with their breakup and we've been friends a long time."
"Were you always friends?"
"Not always. It was awkward at first. She used to give Rob a hard time about Robbie spending time with us both. She was super involved with his family and never gave us any space for our relationship to develop. Later, we started to talk, and Penelope came around; and it's been great ever since," she said, moving towards the front of the house, and leaving her purse behind.
As we entered the living room, a car door slammed outside and Juliet jumped, placing a hand on her heart while taking a deep breath. I looked toward the street. Penelope's car had returned and Robbie climbed out, racing towards the house, a balloon attached to a long string in his hand. Juliet moved over to the door, leaving Solomon, Delgado, and me to observe Penelope and Rob embracing before he too began to walk towards the house. From the doorway, unable to see the lingering hug, Juliet said, "What possible reason could she have to hate me?"
Chapter Fifteen
The supermarket aisles were full of people who didn't seem to understand how desperate my situation was. Never having cooked for so many people before, never mind shopping for the groceries, seeing aisle-after-aisle of produce left me confounded. Just what could one person cook for a huge family that could easily have eaten for the whole nation? That thought reminded me, did I have enough forks? And why didn't I borrow the menu from O'Grady's for inspiration when I had dinner there with Lily the previous night? Or do the grocery shopping earlier in the day? Instead, I was busy scouring Juliet's phone records, looking for connections.
Pushing the cart forwards, I frowned at the vegetables, anxiously waiting for creativity to strike. Instead of a smart recipe whirling together in my mind, the only image I had was the wounded expression on Juliet's face. After Solomon, Delgado, and I dropped the bombshell that we thought her best friend was behind all her recent calamities, and no, we had absolutely no proof, I wasn't eager to return. Of course, Juliet insisted that we look elsewhere for another suspect. Currently, I was still her best and only shot at proving her innocence and identifying the stalker. I hoped she realized that, and preferably, without firing me first.
Since my inspiration still wasn't available, and haute cuisine wasn't one of my strongest skills, I resorted to snatching a stem of baby cherry tomatoes, along with a couple bags of potatoes. I threw in a sprig of chives for a potato salad, adding carrots and cucumber for crudités as I moved past. Solomon was right; easy finger food was my best option. I just wasn't sure how much of it to buy. Thankfully, I did know an expert in large-scale cooking.
"Hi, Mom," I said, when she answered her phone.
"Alexandra, dear."
Uh-oh. I knew my full name meant trouble of some kind. "That's me," I said simply. "I'm at the market and I need your help."
"Really? Did you call 911?"
"No. Why?"
"You're not being held up?"
I looked around at the small array of people browsing the shelves. None of them looked armed. "Not right now," I told her.
My mother breathed a sigh of relief. "I wasn't sure. I assumed you were in trouble."
"Trouble doesn't follow me everywhere I go!"