Lisa Stone: Stalker

Derek checked his face in the van’s interior mirror and smoothed his hair. It was important he looked smart and presentable in his line of business, but not suited up like an estate agent or used-car salesman. You needed to instil confidence in prospective clients; these people had had a dreadful shock and felt vulnerable. Calling his business a family firm helped, and so did what he wore: navy trousers and a light-blue cotton shirt under a navy sweater bearing the company’s logo. Navy was the colour the police and security wore and engendered feelings of safety and dependability.

Picking up his clipboard and an information pack for the clients from the passenger seat, he opened the van door and got out. It was exactly 9.30am. He was a stickler for being on time. It was important not to inconvenience prospective clients by arriving very early; and certainly not late – that was disrespectful. He couldn’t tolerate disrespect, lateness, slovenly or sloppy behaviour. It infuriated him. He upheld punctuality, accuracy, diligence, respect and accountability, much of which he felt was now lacking in today’s society.

Opening the low front gate, he took in the two-year-old modest family car on the driveway – a middle-income family, he decided. He relatched the gate behind him and walked up the path, noticing the shrubbery that partially concealed the sideway. It was a well-maintained house, only recently modernized, so they obviously had some money. He pressed the doorbell and waited. Doubtless they’d seen his van, as would most of their neighbours. A break-in, especially one with violence, was very good for his business.

He knew that the owners, Julie and Russ Williams, were a married couple in their late thirties with two young children, most of which he’d discovered from the Internet, together with photographs of their last family holiday, and the children’s birthday parties held in the back garden. So he had a picture of the rear of the house – just like the thieves. If people only knew how accessible their information was they’d be more careful sharing it. Smoothing his hair again, Derek cleared his throat as the front door opened.

‘Good morning. Derek Flint from Home Security,’ he said, handing the man his business card.

‘Good morning. Russ Williams.’ A firm handshake. ‘Come in. This is my wife Julie.’ Derek made a point of wiping his feet on the mat – it was only polite – then stepped in and shook Mrs Williams’ hand.

‘A pleasure to meet you. I was so sorry to learn of your break-in.’ His brow furrowed with concern. ‘I wish I could have seen you both sooner but I was fully booked all last week.’

‘Not a problem, you’re here now,’ Russ said. Julie threw him a weak smile.

‘Please don’t worry. We’ll soon have this place secure,’ he reassured her.

‘You understand we’re having other quotes,’ Russ said.

‘Yes, of course.’ He gave a small self-deprecating nod.

‘Would you like a coffee?’ Julie asked.

‘Perhaps at the end? If you don’t mind I’d like to crack on. I’ve a very busy day ahead.’ It was important they knew how in demand he was.

‘I’ll show you around and explain what we’ve got in mind,’ Russ said. ‘I’ve been researching what we need online.’

Everyone was an expert now with the Internet, Derek thought but didn’t say. ‘Excellent. It’s always so much easier if the homeowner is well informed. This is for you.’ He put the information pack firmly into Russ’s hand. Clients were always impressed with glossy brochures. ‘I’ll talk you through it later after I’ve had a look around, if that’s all right with you?’

‘Absolutely. So this is the living room,’ Russ said, leading the way from the hall.

Derek stepped aside to allow Mrs Williams to go first and then followed with his clipboard and pen poised.

‘As you know from our telephone conversation,’ Russ continued, ‘the thieves got in through the study and then crossed the living room and attacked me in the hall. The alarm did its job but without cameras there’s little chance of identifying them. So we were thinking of cameras at the rear, sides and front of the house.’

‘Yes, indeed,’ Derek said, making a note. ‘I agree.’ He followed Russ and his wife into the study.

‘They levered that picture window,’ Julie exclaimed, pointing, the fear returning to her eyes.

‘The new ones can’t be levered out,’ Russ added. ‘They’re being replaced tomorrow.’

‘Good,’ Derek said. Russ had certainly done his homework. He nodded thoughtfully, looked around and made another note, then followed them out of the study, back across the living room, and into the kitchen-cum-diner that ran the entire depth of the house. All recently refurbished with yards of glinting polished granite work surfaces. Incredible how some people prioritized their spending. Forty thousand plus on a new kitchen but leave in a crap alarm system.

‘You’ve got a lovely home,’ Derek enthused.

‘Thank you,’ Julie said.

‘So we need to protect it and keep you and your family safe from the scum who steal rather than work.’

‘Exactly my feeling,’ Russ agreed. Derek thought it would be.

He made a quick sketch of the downstairs and then asked to see upstairs. Russ led the way up to the landing and then in and out of the four bedrooms, the family bathroom and downstairs again.

‘Lovely house,’ Derek said again, ingratiating himself a little further.

Russ opened the door to the cloakroom so Derek could see in and then led them through the garage and outside, where he pointed out where he thought the cameras should be sited.

‘I agree.’ Derek nodded, adding them to the sketch. He then spent a few moments looking interestedly at the back of the house and garden while omitting to say he was already familiar with the outside of their house from the Internet.

‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘Shall we go inside now and I’ll talk you through what I have in mind – incorporating your wishes, of course. And perhaps,’ he said, turning to Julie with a humble smile, ‘I could take you up on your kind offer of a coffee? It would be most welcome.’

‘Yes, of course.’

While Julie made coffee, Derek sat with Russ at the oak dining table at the other end of the kitchen-diner and set out the brochures and paperwork, waiting until Julie returned with their drinks before beginning. Women expected to be involved now.

‘So this is an outline of your house,’ he said, pointing to the plan he’d sketched. ‘I’m proposing siting the cameras here, here, here and here – more or less where you suggested.’ Russ looked pleased. ‘These are the cameras I use.’ He showed them the glossy leaflet. ‘I always recommend spending the money on decent high-definition cameras. They give you excellent daytime vision and infrared at night. They are more expensive but the images are so sharp the police can use them to identify suspects. Not that you will be broken into again once this is all installed.’

‘Well, that’s a relief,’ Julie said.

‘I explained to my wife that the reason one of the other quotes was so cheap was because they used analogue cameras,’ Russ said.

‘Exactly. You are well informed. I’ll run the external wiring in conduit.’

‘What’s that?’ Julie asked.

‘It’s a hard plastic tube that protects the wires so they can’t be cut,’ Russ said.

‘I couldn’t have explained it better myself,’ Derek said, flashing him an approving smile. ‘It’s the safest option otherwise a would-be intruder would simply snip through the wire and disconnect the camera. Most intruders carry wire cutters. It’s a small additional cost to you but worth it.’

‘Oh yes, we must have those conduits,’ Julie agreed, shuddering at the recollection of their break-in.