Lisa Stone - Stalker

‘I do. But why were they there? I’ve done nothing wrong.’

‘They wanted to ask if you could give them a list of your clients and apprentices for the last five years: their names and contact details. It’s in connection with some unsolved crimes in the area.’

Derek smiled. So he had managed to put them off his scent by telling them Paul had been responsible for fitting the surveillance at the newsagent and the Khumalos’ house. Now they were investigating his other apprentices for unsolved crimes where he’d fitted the CCTV. Perfect. How easily the police were fooled.

‘Yes, of course, I’ll see to it as soon as I get home,’ he said.

‘Thank you, Mr Flint, that’s much appreciated. You have DC Mayes’ email address?’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘Good heavens! Pinch me, I must be dreaming. A box of chocolates from my son!’ Elsie Flint scoffed, but Derek could see she was pleased. ‘Have you won the lottery?’

‘No, Mum, it was just a nice gesture to brighten your day. I’ve taken on a new client.’

‘Good for you. Dinner is ready. I’ll dish up.’ She placed the box of chocolates on her chair and went into the kitchen.

Derek had to admit that he was feeling pretty pleased with himself. What had started off as a shit-awful day with the Hanks saga looming over him had dramatically improved. He’d done the decent thing and visited her in hospital, convinced himself it wasn’t all his fault; had thrown the police off his trail, and then just now he’d taken on a new client – Ms King.

Ms King had telephoned straight after DCI Peters, saying she wanted to accept the estimate he’d sent her. She lived with her elderly mother and carers came in during the day while she was at work. Her mother was bed bound and Ms King had concerns she wasn’t being looked after properly, so wanted cameras inside the house, upstairs and down. This was just the type of client Derek liked. He’d be in their home, living with them and part of their family, and it wouldn’t be long before he could provide the information she wanted on the carers.

With so much positive stuff coming his way he’d felt a pang of guilt on the drive home when he’d remembered how he’d spoken to his mother after she’d told him she’d let the police in, so he’d stopped off and bought her a box of mixed chocolates. Unlike Mrs Hanks he didn’t know what sort of chocolates she liked or, come to that, her preferences in most things. She was just there – his mother.

Five minutes later, hiding his disappointment at the chicken ready meal she’d dished up, Derek shook out his napkin, picked up his knife and fork and began eating, the weather forecast drifting in from the television in the living room.

‘I could take you shopping at the weekend if you like,’ he suggested magnanimously.

‘Whatever for?’

‘I don’t know. Whatever you want. New clothes?’

‘What would I be wanting with new clothes? Unless you’re planning on getting married.’

‘Some women like going shopping,’ he said, trying to ignore the slight. But her comment stung now as they always did, for they both knew it was highly unlikely he’d marry. She had a habit of meeting his suggestions with a sneer or a put down. He knew it wasn’t what mothers were supposed to do. Many of his clients were mothers and he’d seen how they behaved. He also knew that many women liked to go shopping so it wasn’t as ridiculous as she’d made it sound. Mrs Hanks liked shopping. He’d heard her arrange many shopping trips with her friends on the phone; retail therapy, she called it, and he grew sad again at the thought of her lying in that hospital bed.

‘All those crowds,’ his mother said, ‘and the clothes are made for stick insects.’

‘It was just a suggestion. Let me know if you change your mind.’

‘I won’t.’

The meal continued in silence save for the occasional chink of cutlery on china and the background noise coming from the television. Derek was grateful when they’d finished and he could wash the dishes, then escape to his room. As he passed the open living-room door he glanced in and saw his mother sitting in front of the television with the box of chocolates open on her lap, eating them one after another. She was clearly enjoying them, so why not accept them graciously and thank him? It wasn’t a sign of weakness. He would never understand his mother, but then neither had his father.

Relieved to be in his bedroom, he bolted the door. He hadn’t got around to adding a lock yet and the need seemed to have diminished. His mother had learnt her lesson and wouldn’t let anyone in again, and the police were off his trail. He settled into his office chair at his workstation. The first thing to do was to email the list of clients and apprentices to DC Beth Mayes. Then he’d spend the rest of the evening with his clients. He might even finish off the evening with a visit to The Mermaid to relax him before going to bed.

The Windows software loaded and he opened the file on his apprentices. Just as well he was a conscientious and meticulous record keeper, he had all the details he needed and more to hand. Opening a blank word document, he copied in the names and contact details of all his apprentices. That was all the police were having; they could find out anything else they needed about the lads themselves. Then he did the same with the details of his clients. This took longer as there were many more of them. Once complete, he attached both files to an email and typed in the body:

Dear DC Mayes,

Please find attached the information that DCI Aileen Peters requested regarding my clients and apprentices. I would point out this information is highly confidential and must be treated as such and stored securely.

He added his company sign-off and pressed send.

Now to business.

Launching the live streams coming from his clients’ cameras, he relaxed back in his chair. The thumbnail images began to appear in their neat rows across all four screens. But what was this? Some were missing. There were blank spaces where they should have been. Leaning forward, he waited to see if they would load; perhaps the software was running slow this evening? But no more images appeared. Perhaps a reboot would sort out the problem? It was always the first option. He shut down the system and rebooted, mildly irritated he was wasting time. The Windows screen appeared followed by the thumbnail images but the gaps were still there, exactly where they had been before. Blast! He’d had more problems with his computer in the last two months than he’d had in the previous ten years! What the hell was going on?

He counted ten gaps in all dotted randomly across all four monitors. He clicked on a couple of the blank spaces, hoping the images might appear but nothing did. Could all ten CCTV systems be down together? It had never happened before and why hadn’t the clients contacted him reporting a fault? Unless their systems had only just gone down? That might explain it. His heart sank. It was Friday and U-Beat nightclub’s busiest evening. They might not open with their CCTV down.

Quickly bringing their file on screen, he keyed in the number of their office phone. It rang for some time before it was answered.

‘U-Beat nightclub,’ a man said gruffly.

‘Sorry to disturb you. This is Home Security. Are your cameras working?’ he asked anxiously.

‘I think so, just a minute. I’m in the office, I’ll check on the monitor.’ A pause, then, ‘Yes, they’re all working.’

‘Oh. I see. Good.’ Derek thought for a moment. ‘Has anything been changed today on any of your settings?’

‘Not as far as I know but I’ve only just come on duty. Oh, hang on, there’s a note been left on the desk.’ Derek waited as he read the note. ‘The password was changed earlier today, but that’s all.’