Stalker Page 2

  ‘Is anything else missing or scribbled on?’ Jamie took notes.

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Lily was seriously messy at home, but not in the studio. ‘Nothing really important. Or I would have missed it. But there could be something gone… that I don’t use a lot.’

  ‘Such as?’ Light bounced off Jamie’s pebble glasses as he looked up at her.

  “How do I know…’ Lily’s voice was getting higher. ‘Back off Jamie. You’re supposed to be helping… not making me feel worse.’

  That last comment Jamie ignored, his mind was on fast track, clue-mode.

  ‘Only shows up under ultra violet… is the night club the first place you’ve been that there’s ultra violet light?’ Absent-mindedly, Jamie, ran his hand through his remaining hair. ‘How many places use it?’

  Lily stuck up her fingers and counted…. ‘Night clubs…sun-tanning parlours…. I’ve been asking around.”

  ‘D’you go there? ‘Jamie asked.

  ‘No… would I look this pale if I did?’ Lily had pale skin with blotchy freckles. Even make-up didn’t hide them.

  ‘Anywhere else? Someone who plays with words. That “hot air” bit is clever. Not your average yob. So how would anyone know you’d go to the night club last night?” quizzed Jamie.

  ‘Perhaps he didn’t.’ Lily fiddled with her watch-band. It was loose on her wrist, but nothing else was loose. Nerves made her eat. ‘Perhaps it was written days… or weeks ago… and he’s been waiting for me to wear it… and in a place where it could be read.’

  ‘What about Genevieve? Has she got anything written on her clothes?’

  Lily shook her head. ‘Not that I know of. Everyone would know if she did.’

  ‘Yeah, you’d need ear-plugs,’ said Jamie who’d met Genevieve twice. ‘D’you reckon you guys will make it to the next month’s rent payment?’

  ‘Probably. Shift work helps. We’re not there much together.’

  ‘Flatmate-from-hell?’

  “Mmm,’ you had to be loyal, sort of. Anyway, Lily couldn’t afford the rent by herself.

  ‘Does Genevieve do her share of the shit jobs?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Still, if it gets too bad, couldn’t you move into your parents’ place while they’re away? Or is your brother there?’

  ‘No. They’ve got a house-sitter for the six months. And Ben’s got a live-in job, with Anita his girlfriend.’

  Within two days of Genevieve moving in, Lily realised they wouldn’t get on. Especially after the ‘house-warming riot’ when neighbours called the police. But she wasn’t going to tell her parents that it wasn’t working out. And since they weren’t around to see….

  ‘Think back,’ Jamie was serious now. ‘When did you last wear that green t-shirt?’

  ‘Tuesday week ago. Night club clothes are a bit more dressed up than everyday. So I wear that shirt a bit at night. Or in photos…. So I wear it for head and shoulder shots. Green’s my favourite colour… I even put that down in the fans’ questionnaire the other day….’

  ‘What questionnaire? I didn’t get one. Who’s been asking personal questions? What for?’ Jamie stopped doodling. ‘Stay here. I’ll just ring the station and check on something.’

  Jamie had one of those minds which remembered phone numbers, so he left his books and even his diary with her. The uni café was getting crowded, so she had to spread out to save Jamie’s seat. He was back a few minutes later. ‘No questionnaires sent to any other presenters last week. Just you. You’re it! Sounds sus. to me. As if someone is compiling data, like a dossier on you’

  ‘Why?’

  Jamie shrugged. ‘Dunno, yet.’

  This caffeine hit wasn’t enough. Lily felt tiredness overwhelm her. At the slightest sound, even the cat on the veranda, she’d wake, instantly. Then it was hard to get back to sleep. Her mind would go round and around, trying to remember someone she’d missed. Who could be doing this? Why? The word ‘why?’ started going around her brain.

  It was so PLANNED! That t-shirt could have been written on weeks before, and she hadn’t even known. It was a big shirt, so she still fit into it. What if the stalker had scribbled on one of her smaller t-shirts and she didn’t use that shirt because it no longer fit? A little smile crept around Lily’s lips. Wasted effort! A failed stalker? But unfortunately he wasn’t failing. He was succeeding in this invisible control. Invisible insults waiting to hit. Waves of panic engulfing her at odd times. Well, she wasn’t going to give in, and go off-air.

  ‘Maybe some of your other stuff is marked, and you haven’t seen it in the light yet?’ suggested Jamie.

  Maybe the smaller tops, thought Lily, but what she said was,

  ‘So? D’you reckon I should go back to the night club and try out all my clothes, one at a time? Like a stripper under the lights! Sort of strip for a graffiti check.’ Lily’s insides felt queasy. Maybe discussing this especially with Jamie, wasn’t such a good idea. He tended to take off and run with a problem, and then it became public because he just had to tell everybody about how good he was at solving things. She should have kept these hassles secret. But at first it had seemed almost like a compliment, to be enough of a ‘celeb’ to be stalked, like the truly famous. Someone thought enough of her, to follow every day.

  ‘Maybe it’s on things other than your clothes?’ suggested Jamie.

  ‘Like what?’ For a moment Lily pictured giant scribbles on her roof.

  ‘I don’t know. The Vomit or something.’

  Freaky the way Jamie kept adding things she hadn’t considered. Why would someone write on her car? The Vomit was noticeable already, especially when it broke down.

  If she ignored what was happening would it go away? Unlikely.

  Jamie continued ‘There’s a special pen. Fluoroscopy. They used it for security marking. Like putting your licence number of electrical goods. Can only be seen under ultra-violet light.’ Radio research was his first hobby before he trained as a panel operator. ‘I looked it up on the Internet. Then I tried the Stalkers’ Home Page. Learnt a lot from there.’

  ‘How you stalk or be stalked?’ Lily felt that everything was getting away from her. Like changing shapes, things were happening that involved her and she didn’t even know. ‘Are you going to e-mail me an example?’

  ‘Here’s a print-out. Read it yourself.’ Jamie pulled the roll out of his pocket and pushed the paper towards her.

  Lily put down her coffee and flattened the paper. A few splashes seeped through. At least it wasn’t fax paper. That station fax paper always had a dead fish smell. Why was she thinking about paper smells? So she wouldn’t think about HIM.

  Deep inside, the fear increased as Lily realised she’d been missing clues. It was all planned. Like a campaign where she was the target. She wasn’t losing her mind; it was just that so many things had been going wrong this week. Someone was using her fear to make her do things, to manipulate her, like a puppet. And she still didn’t know why.

  ‘You said ‘he’.’ Jamie spoke slowly. ‘How come you think it’s a male? And why only one? Could it be female? And a few of them?’

  Lily shrugged. ‘Just a hunch it’s a guy.’

  ‘Any proof? Like facts?’ Jamie loved collecting facts.

  Lily shook her head. ‘Not yet.’

  Jamie’s question was disturbing. Why had she assumed it was a male? And one male? Was she being sexist?

  ‘Harassing,’ said Jamie, scratching his head. ‘Sexual harassing, that’s what it’s called. According to the stats, 70% are male. Usually ex-lovers. Got many of them?’

  ‘None of your business.’ She wasn’t going to tell Jamie about old boyfriends since there were fewer than he’d expect. Since she’d been on radio regularly, she felt different, more confident, but there still wasn’t anyone special.

  ‘But, it’s not really harassing.’ She didn’t want to call it that and make it official. Like having to tell the police. No-one was
trying to threaten her sexually. It was just as if someone was stopping her from living normally. The How to Drive LilyMad Campaign. Things she counted on, no longer happened. Ordinary stuff. Not being able to find her interview folder that she knew she’d left on the kitchen bench. Next morning, it wasn’t there. How could a green folder walk, unless someone was carrying it? Even the clock in her car was the wrong time. How could it jump two hours like that? An electronic fault? Or something else? Another week, she would have thought it was something to do with the daylight saving change-over. But not this week. And it was TWO hours difference, not one.

  ‘You’re officially a ‘stalkee, now,’ said Jamie. ‘Hi-profile jobs come with a price.’

  ‘You’re joking!’ Lily couldn’t stop a laugh. Jamie wanted to think public radio was high profile because he did it, and always considered panel operating more skilful than presenting. ‘I only got the graveyard shift because no-one else wanted it. And you know how hard it is to get another operator for your swot vac. Voluntary doesn’t mean mega bucks, as Genevieve keeps reminding me.’

  ‘But you are a stalkee,’ Jamie was determined to have the last fact.

  Lily laughed, feeling cheered by the silly name. ‘Stalkee sounds like a bean pole, you know… a stalk. Something which sticks out. ‘

  ‘And that’s what’s happening to you. Someone thinks you stick out.’

  warned Jamie. ‘Like a middle-sized poppy. ‘

  ‘Mmmm.’ She didn’t want her head cut off. Lily felt the studio was no longer special. Glass on two sides had been great at first… she could sign to Jamie and feel part of a working team. Or glance at her reflection, just to check how professional, Lily the presenter, looked. But the red ON-AIR sign warning visitors to keep quiet was no protection against intruders. Her mind was being harassed, not her voice. Those panic waves were swamping again. And she was freaking out. Sort of! Cool it Lily, she told herself.

  ‘You could be a subject for my thesis,’ suggested Jamie. ‘I’m looking for a topic, and I’ve got to get to my Adv. Behav. tute now. Stalking might be an okay topic.’

  ‘Thanks, but no thanks. Choose another flower. My name’s Lily, not Poppy.’

  Sometimes Jamie went over the top. You know how someone acts casual, pretends something doesn’t matter and then drops words in, so you won’t forget their real job. He was studying ‘Behavioural Modification,’ and was a bit up himself about that. Jamie even listened to the song lyrics on air and commented whether the motives were believable.

  ‘Motivation is the key,’ said Jamie, getting up from the table.

  ‘Forget it.’ Lily didn’t want to be a case- study or a police case or a patient who was a doctor‘s case. When she was a kid, she imagined a doctor packing up a patient inside a brown suitcase and carrying it to hospital. Kids had weird ideas. But they weren’t the only ones. Kids’ ideas were sort of clean weird. This seemed dirty weird. No wonder Jamie was intrigued by her stalker’s mind.

  ‘You mean why he’s doing this? The reason?’ Lily dumped her cup on the trolley labelled DON’T ACT LIKE A PIG, CLEAN UP THE SWILL’.

  Trays banged, cutlery crashed and students heading for lectures pushed their way out of the crowded cafe. As Jamie dumped his cup, he said reassuringly, ‘Don’t worry Lily. I’ll read up on Stalkers and let you know what he might do next. Stats wise, they follow a pattern.’

  ‘Thanks a lot Jamie, but don’t bother. I’ll find out for myself.’ Lily was determined to do something, but she wasn’t sure what.

  Fans often left gifts at the station. The Stalker had left her a gift all right: the gift of fear. Like last Friday, at her flat. When the ordinary stuff started going wrong.

  ***********************************************************

  She’ll be leaving the studio soon.I know she’s there I heard her on air. I can switch her on. Or switch her off. I know where she is but she doesn’t know where I am or where I was. That’s the thrill. Her voice floats through the air…. She does the midnight shift. All those lonely ones ring her.…interviews with people not worthy of her attention. How dare they answer her in that way! If she were interviewing me, I’d give much more intelligent answers. Maybe she’ll interview me on air, one day, about my campaign, my strategies. But not yet. And of course, only if I decide to do it.

  I know what time she’ll finish. So I wait slumped down in the driver’s seat, parked on the roadside of the highway she’ll pass. I watch in the rear vision mirror.I don’t want her to see me. No, that would spoil the feeling… that I know her whereabouts her life is open to me, but she doesn’t even know I am here. I’m like a golden circle around her life.

  I switch on. Sometimes I get lucky. The station plays a promo and I hear a snatch of her voice. ‘Hi, this is Lily’ has become so familiar. She says it just for me. I tape and replay, often. I’ve worn out the first tape.

  When I wake up in the morning, I think about the snatch of her voice. I replay it in my mind. Ahead, the day seems grey unless I have planned to connect with Lily in some way. Long hours until she is on air again. Will I see her earlier? Waiting near her house is cheating. There has to be a risk. A gamble. Action soothes me. That’s why I went through the car-wash four times today. My car needs to be clean inside and out. It always is. Even the smell must be clean.

  Adjusting the rear-vision mirror, I can just see the driveway beside the studio. A car noses out. Is it hers? No. Shit! The mirror gives a reverse picture. I’m checking the wrong place. There’s a 7-11 place alongside. That’s a worry. Too many cars coming out of there. Not her. Why not?

  I drive and drive. Every time I see a yellow car, I feel her in my gut. Right model. Right colour. Wrong number plate. If I just see her today, I won’t do anything else. That will be enough. Just to know that she is nearby. The sense of her doing ordinary things and not knowing that my watching makes all her actions special. Maybe she’ll even wear that perfume I smelled in her bathroom.

  She’s easy to track. I know when she’s on at the studio or at uni. That’s when her home can be visited, like last Friday.

  3

  Key Problems

  Last Friday had been the key problem.

  Using your front door key is normal stuff. You expect it to work. To Lily, the outside of the flat looked ordinary with faint patterns of dust swirls on the windows. It was only because she was leaning against the front window, juggling her key ring that Lily even noticed the dust. Cleaning wasn’t something she worried about much. A bit of dust pollution wasn’t going to ruin her world, but…

  Tight, thin strips of plastic supermarket bags cut into Lily’s hand as she tried to slip her key in the door. Unlike Genevieve, shopping wasn’t her hobby, but you have to eat.

  ‘Shit!’

  Her key didn’t fit. It wouldn’t go in! Why not?

  She jangled her bunch of keys to check. No. That was the right one. Red nail-polish mark. She tried again. It went part-way in and stopped. It didn’t match any more. Had this key got twisted or something? Lily pulled it out and held it up to the light. It did look a bit crooked, but nothing that serious.

  The spare key. Where was it? They’d agreed to leave it under the rock near the African Violet pot plant. Lily scrabbled around. Just damp soil and a tiny snail. ‘Bloody Genevieve. Why can’t she put things back!’

  What’s the use of having a flatmate and a spare key if you can’t use them?

  This flat didn’t have a backdoor, well not one you could get into from the street. The back was all high-walled. Should she try the windows? Even the cat had trouble getting in the house. The previous tenant had nailed down most of the ground level ones and if you didn’t have a toolkit with a hammer, it was easier to leave them nailed. So that’s what Lily had done. Genevieve didn’t notice, until the night of her house-warming when a guest complained, and Lily said ‘nailing’ was the latest fashion.

  Dumping the plastic bags, Lily fiddled in her bulging backpack for her ph
one. Then Lily punched the numbers of Genevieve’s mobile.

  ‘Genevieve… I’m locked out and … beep beep beep… Hi, this is Genevieve. I’d really like to talk to you, but if you leave a message, I’ll get back to you as soon as I turn my phone on.’

  …Not the voice-merry-go-round! Those flat electronic voices give her the feeling she didn’t exist. A personality drain. You talk, but never feel sure it gets to the person.’

  Beep. Beep. Beep. Just as Lily went to hang up after leaving no message except her name, on came her flatmate’s real voice.

  ‘Hi, this is really Genevieve…Is that you Lily?