"But you said it."

"I memorized the entire list, not each individual thing on it," she said, her chin thrusting upwards as she blinked before catching sight of Solomon. Her mouth dropped open a little. "I could recite it all again. I'm training to be an actress," she added breathlessly.

"The chicken salad and a soda," I told her.

"I'll take that too," Solomon said as he handed her the menu without looking up. She took it, but didn't move, blinking instead at him a couple more times.

"Today, please," I told the waitress, smiling hopefully at her, wondering if she'd even heard our orders.

"'Kay," she mumbled, sliding away. A moment later, she giggled something to the other waitress at the counter and they both glanced over.

"I think our waitress has a crush on you," I told Solomon.

"I have a crush on you," he said as he smiled.

I made a show of pretend giggling and twirling my hair around one finger. All the same, my heart skipped a beat as he looked at me. His dark eyes held secrets that he whispered to me and only to me. "You were telling me..." I prompted before getting any big ideas.

"Oh yeah. I don't know. Something a little off about the case. My client owns an investment firm, and he's concerned several illegal trades were made. He asked me to look first at his employees."

"I don't understand trading, but aren't there some kind of safeguards in place? And can't every trade be tracked back to a trader?"

"Technically, yes, but there's something very strange about the trades that were made. He wants to make sure he fires the right person."

"Is he losing money?"

"Yes." Solomon named a figure that made my blood run cold.

"That much?"

He nodded.

"Seriously? People can lose that much money?"

"Yes."

"On a single trade?"

"On a single trade, yes, sure, but that much was lost on multiple trades."

"Wow!"

"It's not a huge amount."

"It is to me!"

"Not to these people, but an illegal trade is an illegal trade. It involves ethics as much as recovering their losses."

"Does he know who did it?"

"He has his suspicions. He tracked the trades to one employee, but he says it can't be her. My job is to prove it unequivocally, one way or the other."

"Sounds tricky."

"It will be, but I'm looking forward to it. Surveillance starts tomorrow. I have a feeling this case might test me. This person is smart. They'll do everything they can to cover their tracks and avoid a jail term."

"How would it test you? You've investigated every kind of case."

"Don't forget we can be duped," he reminded me, "and we can let a perpetrator slip right past us."

"Only if they're really smart."

"I think this one is really smart."

We paused as the waitress slid large plates in front of us. The cook didn't scrimp with the salad ingredients and the plate groaned. I thought my stomach might groan too if I finished it all. I reached for the side dressing, peppering a liberal sprinkle across the leaves.

"I got an interesting new case today," I told him as I shoved the first forkful to my mouth. Flavor exploded on my tongue and I took a special moment just to enjoy it.

"What's the top line?"

"Stalking."

"Too many stalkers in this world."

"Absolutely," I agreed, swallowing before I continued, "my client is convinced she has one; but the people around her tell her it's just her stress and forgetfulness. I need to prove she has a stalker and make him or her stop. Or prove she doesn't have one so she can finally find some peace."

"Does this have the potential to get nasty?"

"I don't think so. She hasn't been approached, but..."

Solomon placed his fork on the plate. "But what?"

"From what she told me, this person could have been in her house, and possibly had access to her car keys."

"Does she have problems with anyone?"

"Not that she’s aware of; and she seemed very honest."

"Stalkers can be all kinds of people. Strangers, relatives, friends, even partners. Just about anything can tip them over the line from nosy and overly caring to obsessive and controlling."

"Tell me about it," I said, thinking of the stalkers I'd encountered in my tenure as a PI. My first stalker was an accountant in the office I worked for as a temp. He began following me around and leaving bizarre gifts. He definitely had one very big screw loose and was now, thankfully, serving time.

"Looks like we have two interesting cases on our hands." Solomon raised his soda glass and clinked it against mine, a salute to our way of life. I noted he didn't ask me to take a look at his case, or offer to go over the details of mine. I wasn't sure whether I should have been pleased that he seemed to be respecting the boundaries that neither one of us put into play, or just curious at his sudden indifference. Did he think I wasn't up to the job? Or was he merely being discreet, and not trying to barge into my new career path? I wasn't sure, but at least, I could be certain, given Juliet's reference, that he didn't send a pity case in my direction. Just as I was about to change the topic, my cell phone trilled. A text message from my mother appeared on screen. It read I met a nice man today.

I frowned at it.

"What's up?" asked Solomon.

"Nothing. My mom says she met a nice man today."

"She knows she's married to your dad, right?"

"I don't think she forgot." I tapped on the screen You're married.

Seconds later, another message flashed up: For you. 35. Lawyer. Single. No kids. Hair AND teeth.

Solomon leaned across the table and I tipped the phone towards him. He shook his head and returned his attention to his salad. "She knows we're together."

I have a boyfriend, I wrote back.

Did he propose yet? texted Mom.

No.

Are you with child?

No.

I waited a full minute for the response. It read Tick tock!

I sighed and dropped the phone onto the table. Solomon reached forward and turned it around, reading the texts. I was pretty sure he had to stifle the urge to laugh.

"I could get you pregnant and propose right now," said Solomon. "We don't even have to leave the deli."

All the air sucked out of my lungs, and I transcended somewhere between my body, that moment, and the realm of possibilities. It was like an out-of-body experience, but without the supernatural movie effects. When I recovered my thoughts and found my voice, all I could say was, "I have a case to solve."

"Maybe later," said Solomon with a wink.

~

I thought about Solomon's casual proposal, along with all the synchronized things he could do, as I walked back to my car, which was parked in the tiny, rear lot of Lily's bar. I thought about it some more on the drive over to Bedford Hills, which Juliet stated as her address.

In my purse was a millimeter-thin, manila file that still smelled box-fresh. It was filled with the information she gave me to start the case. Mostly minimal stuff: her full name, address, employer and place of employment, general family details, and I needed far more than that to catch a stalker. I wanted to interview her longer, but she told me she needed to get to another appointment. Then she said, since it was her day off, I could come by her house to talk some more. I figured talking and simultaneously checking out her home was a good idea.