D. Schmidt - They Ate the Waitress?

Above the bookshelf was a cork bulletin board with various theater tickets, receipts, and notes pinned to it. “Buy eggs,” “Get keys back from Clayton,” “Tell Mom that’s not a neck massager.”

Nick walked into the bathroom, which Renée had apparently turned into a shampoo history museum. Other than the clutter, the bathroom was as spotless as an albino Dalmatian. In fact, it was so clean that he felt guilty about his own bathroom, where the mildew was evolving into intelligent life.

After searching the bedroom, he decided that Todd was right. There were no signs of a struggle, nothing out of the ordinary, even under the ultraviolet light. He grabbed some things from Renée’s lingerie drawer, just so the visit wouldn’t be a complete waste of time.

Sophia’s email didn’t arrive until late that night. Her stalker’s name was Luke Bender, a low-level employee at a pet store called “Fur Sure.” At first, he would just appear in line behind her at the coffee shop or the deli. She assumed he lived in the area, that it was only a coincidence. However, she started seeing him in the parking lot of her apartment complex. She would leave for work at eleven PM and he would be there, watching her door. When she got to Little Brother’s, he would be there, pretending to shop. She never actually saw him follow her but, clearly, he must have. If Nick could prove Luke had been following her, there was a good chance Luke’s insurance company would charge him with stalking.

One thing Nick had in his favor was the respective genders of the people involved. It was much harder to pursue a stalking case when it was a woman stalking a man. For men, being followed by an obsessed female was a common fantasy, so much so that Washington had a chain of Rent-A-Stalker stores. Customers could hire an actress to pursue them, lurk outside their bedroom window, or confront them in public and scream “Why oh why won’t you let me love you?”

Sophia had drawn a map at the bottom of her email. “That’s odd,” he thought. “She sent me Bender’s home address. How would she get that? I’ll have to ask her about it later.” Stranger still, the address was in a very upscale neighborhood. The homes in the area were all in the multimillion dollar range, far too expensive for anyone working at a pet store. He made a mental note to find out how Luke could pay for such a place.

Closing the email, he switched to the internet and searched for Luke Bender in the newsfeed archives. There were dozens of results:

• Local Man Arrested for Stealing Merry-Go-Round

• Local Man Arrested for Selling Orphans through the Mail

• Local Man Arrested for Renting Internal Organs to Elderly

• Local Man Arrested for Running Penguin Cock Fights

• Local Man Arrested for Operating Taco Stand in Public Restroom

Skimming the last article, Nick thought that anyone dumb enough to buy a taco in a men’s room deserved what they got. “Regardless, this Bender sounds like a real loser, and possibly dangerous. I’d better pay him a visit.”

Fur Sure had a sign in the front window advertising the Perma-Kittens sale. The sign noted that, due to several pending lawsuits, Perma-Babies were no longer available. Stepping inside, Nick checked the nametags of all the salesclerks he could find. None of them said “Luke.” He wandered to the aquarium department at the back of the store.

A small photograph on the wall showed a bored-looking man holding a tiny, plastic net, the kind used to extract fish from a tank. His thick hair was spiked with gel, and a dragon tattooed wrapped around each arm. His eyebrows were pierced with enough rings to support a curtain rod. The photo caption read “Luke Bender, Fish and Aquarium Department Ass. Manager.”

“His parents must be so proud. Well, if he’s not working tonight, he might be out at Sophie’s place. I should make sure she’s okay. First, in case he shows up later, a little surveillance.” He waited for the fish aisle to be clear of customers and salesclerks. Moving quickly, he plunged his arms into a tank and hid a tiny, waterproof surveillance camera inside one of the goldfish. Wiping his hands on his shirt, he returned to his car.

The drive to Sophia’s apartment complex was familiar, almost reassuringly so. He had met her two years earlier, when she had first started working at Little Brother’s. Since then, he had given her a ride home from work maybe half a dozen times. She never invited him inside. After working all night, she was always exhausted and would head directly to bed. At least, that was the reason she always gave. Why would she lie?

He drove through the lot, searching for anyone that looked out of place. Each apartment had its own entrance, which meant that Luke could see Sophia the moment she stepped outside. But the cars were empty. If Luke were there, he wasn’t sitting in his car. Perhaps his obsession had moved beyond stalking.

He imagined her standing in her bathtub, shaving her legs, and cutting herself with the razor. In his mind, he saw a single drop of blood rolling down her thigh and splashing on the floor. Her eyes would follow the drop of blood on its journey, and then she would look up to see Luke standing in the doorway. Her screams would only excite him more.

“Oh, holy hell.”

Nick parked across two spaces, ran to her apartment, and banged on her door. Nothing. “Maybe she’s in bed… being smothered with a pillow. I should break the door down.” He turned on his heel, intending to grab his Halligan tool from his trunk, but he stopped short. Her car wasn’t in the lot. “What the hell? I told her to stay home from work!” His anger vanished as suddenly as it came. What if Luke was at Little Brother’s?

He crossed town as fast as his car could take him. Pulling in front of the door, he ran inside, his engine still running. “Where’s Sophia?” he shouted at no one in particular.

“Who’s asking?” a salesman said. Keeping his eyes on Nick, he reached below the display counter, feeling for the alarm button.

Nick produced his manhunter’s badge. “Is she here or not?”

“She’s in the back, selling someone a pistol.”

Sure enough, Sophia was standing behind the gun counter, calmly talking with a customer. “You can hide a gun on your body and still pass a strip search,” she explained. “Of course, if you do get kidnapped, anything your captors do to you can’t possibly be worse than the process of hiding the gun.”

“Good point,” the customer said. “Do you have anything smaller than a .22?”

She nodded. Glancing up, she noticed Nick staring at her. “Nick! What’s wrong?”

“Why are you here, Wynne?” he demanded.

“I work here. Big Boss Man tends to pay me more if I show up. Did you solve my case already?”

“No, I just wanted…” Glancing around the room, he noticed a large poster advertising one of Little Brother’s new sale items, a plastic gun that looked like something from a 1940’s space movie.

Try the new Enuresis Zapper! Only $299.95 for your very own incontinence-producing ray gun! Works up to fifty yards away! Fun at parties!

Indicating the poster, he said, “I’d like one of those. Do you do gift wrap? My nephew’s turning eight next week…”

Back at home, he collapsed on his couch, three hundred dollars poorer and incredibly depressed. His mind tortured him with questions. What was wrong with him? Why didn’t he just talk to her? Should he chase her stalker first or Renée’s killer? Did he have any drugs left? He decided to deal with the last question first, as it was the easiest.

Moments later, he was sprawled on the floor, watching his head float to the ceiling. What was he thinking about before? Something about a girl?