Chapter 4
Tugging her hat over her face more and pushing her sunglasses further up her nose to hide her eyes didn't seem to help Rose-Marie get rid of the feeling that she was being watched. What made it worse was that she didn't know who was watching her or why, or even who was sending her the nasty text messages.
"How did something so simple get so bloody complicated?" she wondered yet again as she and Don rode the elevator to the 35th floor of the New York crime lab. "I just wanted one damn night to myself, one night where I wasn't known or recognized as a Desmond, but just plain 'ol me. Well, I got that all right, but it looks like I've got a heap of trouble as well."
Mac turned out to be Detective Mac Taylor, Crime Scene Investigator, and a friend of Don's. When he was shown the contents of Rose-Marie's BlackBerry, his eyebrows shot up and then he was hustling to one of the labs where an array of computers and computer screens could be found. Within moments he'd hooked up and accessed the BlackBerry. All the pictures and text associated with the pictures came from the same restricted access number but the problem was, who? Without yelling at the phone company (Which phone company? There were half a dozen cell carriers in New York alone, never mind the landline phone companies, Don pointed out sourly.), there was no way to trace the sender, unless he or she sent another message or text, or was even bold enough to try calling Rose-Marie.
"So what do I do now?" she asked. She, Don, and Mac were seated in Mac's office and she was nursing a cup of coffee that Don had kindly gotten her.
"Unfortunately, at this point there isn't a lot we can do. We don't have a name, unless you can think of anyone who might want to hurt you or have a grudge against you," Mac said.
"Nobody right off the top of my head. The only person who knew I was heading to see Don was my sister and even then she didn't know exactly where I was heading," Rose-Marie admitted.
"Did she know who Don was?" Mac asked.
"She saw the papers this morning and commented on it, yes, and I told her that Don was a cop. She also lent me her car because she figured the paparazzi would be looking for my car, not hers," Rose-Marie said.
"Is it distinctive?" Mac asked.
Rose-Marie shook her head. "Just a little dark blue Saturn Astra with three doors and dark windows. Even the license plate is your average New York plate," she said.
Mac nodded. "How did you two met?" he asked Don, who was seated next to Rose-Marie.
"At Sullivan's. Bought her a drink, started talking, dancing, wound up at my place," Don said, shrugging. "Said her name was Bella Donald and I didn't find out otherwise until this morning when Danny showed me the Post."
Rose-Marie cringed. "I showed up here, trying to apologize, and bought him coffee at the coffee shop down the street. That's when the pictures started. I did get two prior text messages to that but I deleted them."
"And then the pictures started," Mac said. "And you couldn't ignore those."
"Hard not to," Rose-Marie said.
"I have to ask, though, why should I not consider this to be a publicity stunt on your part? A way of getting attention and sympathy by making it look like someone's stalking you?" Mac asked.
"Mac!" Don protested, even though he silently admitted he'd been wondering the same thing himself.
But Rose-Marie didn't get hostile at the accusation. Instead, she shrugged her shoulders. "It's a fair question. Obviously I didn't take those pictures or send those messages myself, but I could have paid someone to do that. Some people will do anything for attention, true enough."
"And you?" Mac asked.
"Not my style. I value my privacy and I resent the intrusion," she replied. "I regret having to have lied to Don just to get a little nooky, but when you're in the position where just your name gets you in the doors of the hottest clubs in New York (which is not always a bad thing, mind you) it also gets you hanger-ons; people who want to be associated with you because of your name and the supposed prestige that comes with being associated with that name." She took a sip of her coffee and gave a rueful smile. "Learned that lesson the hard way back in college. Thought I was popular because of me as a person. Not so, and it took at least three guys before I finally clued into what was going on. Little slow that way."
"But you learned," Mac said.
"And withdrew as a result; acquired the nickname Ice Princess while I was at it," she said. "Except while I was taking baking courses."
"Where at?" Don asked curiously.
"The French Culinary Institute on Broadway," she replied. "I had to do a little wiggling to have a name other than my given name put on the register but it was worth it." She sighed heavily. "Anyway, after the business at college and a few other incidents I learned to be very, very careful about my info, like my e-mail addresses and my cell numbers." She gestured at the BlackBerry, which sat innocently on Mac's desk. "That... stuff... is not me. It's not my way. I don't like attention and I don't like being in the papers. My step-mother, Marion, that's her thing."
"And your sister, Judith-Ann?" Don asked.
"Most of her stunts are oneuppers in the Battle Royale with Marion," Rose-Marie said. "She does draw the line at drugs and married guys though."
"And Marion doesn't?" Mac asked.
"The married guys, or any guy for that matter, no. Drugs, yes; Dad threatened to have her out on her ear without a penny if she went anywhere near illegal drugs or got busted for DUI, or any thing like that," Rose-Marie said.
"So she can't get away with drugs or DUI's but she can get away with sleeping around?" Don asked. "Nice."
"Not my marriage, not my problem," she replied, shrugging. "Not my thing either, but as long as Marion and Jay keep me out of their fun and any trouble they get into, I really don't care what they do. Simpler that way."
"Would be," Don said.
Rose-Marie sighed heavily. "Look, I don't like this bull but I understand there's not a lot you guys can do, especially without a name, and I don't have one to give you. I'm just gonna call my cell carrier and have the number changed. Maybe that will work," she said. "Plus, I'll file a report and at least there will be a paper trail to track back to later if things go south."
Both men nodded. After promising to let Mac know if she got any more threatening message or pictures, as well as her new number, Rose-Marie and Don left. As they headed downstairs to file the report, they spoke quietly.
"After you get your cell number changed, what are you going to do next?" he asked.
"Continue on with my day, not much else I can do," she said. "I was planning to hit my dad's office and tackle the storage room in the basement, which is a disaster in its own right and is mostly a make-work project." She smirked. "Gets me out of doing clerical work, which you know I hate."
He smirked back. "Does that mean I won't be able to borrow you for any typing?"
"Don't push it, buster," she shot back.
"Darn," he said, grinning.
Then she leaned up and whispered seductively in his ear, "Although I wouldn't mind pushing a few other buttons."
He grinned wider and slid an arm around her waist, drawing her close. "I like that idea a lot," he said, keeping his voice low, "but I have to get back to work."
"Drat," she said, pouting.
"Of course, there's always later," he said.
"Dinner, maybe? My treat; least I can do for ruining your morning," she offered.
He nodded. "Sounds good. I'll let you know when I get off work, but I should warn you, I may get a call-out."
She shrugged. "If you do, you do; you're a cop and I've seen enough reality cop shows, like 48 Hours and Dallas Swat on A and E, to know that a call can come in at any time," she said. "You'll just have to make it up to me later." She gave him a cheeky grin.
He grinned. "Why do I get the feeling that life with you is not going to be boring?"
"It's not? Darn, and here I was hoping it would be nice and boring, simple."
"Where's the fun in that?" he shot back, still grinning.
After she filed the report and Don added what he could, he escorted her outside to her car. Once there, she reached up and gave him a kiss hot enough to cause a serious rise in his blood pressure.
"What about the paparazzi?" he finally got out.
"If I'm gonna wind up in the damn tabloids, I'd rather it be for something I enjoy rather than something stupid," she managed to reply, breathing a bit hard. "And believe me, no matter what happens or how long this lasts, I'm going to enjoy every minute of it, stalker or not."
"I can live with that."
"I'll text you with my new number once I get it take care of and I'll see you tonight. Let me know your preferences and I'll see what I can do," she said, reluctantly leaving his arms.
"You do that," he said, a grin on his face.
And somewhere, amid the crowds and the people walking the streets, a camera snapped.