a/n: Ownership of Twilight hasn't changed since we last spoke. Still not mine. EverlastingMuse, my beta, does own my eternal gratitude for putting up with my constant misspelling and grammatical crimes.

Chapter 4: Crime Scene

I know I said I liked mysteries, but not this kind of mystery. I'm into the kind of mystery that happens in books or in the movies and is resolved easily. I like the satisfaction of solving a mystery by reading a person's mind or seeing one of Alice's visions. I am thrilled by the kind of mystery that you can solve with some surveillance or reading phone bills or snooping around in a person's desk.

This mystery, on the other hand, is not nearly as much fun. The locked safe of Bella Swan's brain is dangerous and frustrating. She's a delicious smelling human whose death would be a major inconvenience not to mention a personal moral low point and a definite political snafu. She evades logic; she's a studious, shy honor student who doesn't understand the mechanics of birth control? She's an enigma with a hooded "Forks High" sweatshirt and pre-natal vitamins and I am, in humiliating fashion, fascinated by her.

Fortunately, this whole "fascination from a distance" thing was working out OK, kind of like celebrity stalking, until Bella Swan made herself real for me, in startling fashion.

It was the Wednesday after her sleepover with Alice. I was doing my regular thing, you know, sitting at my desk, listening to jazz, sniffing one of Bella Swan's t-shirts, when I hear light footsteps on the stairs followed by a voice in the outer office.

"Hello? Alice? Mr. Cullen?" Who could sneak up on me like that? I hear people's thoughts for Christ's sake! Everyone's thoughts but...shit! It's her!

I jump up vampire-speed and slam the door to my office. I clench my fists and swear at my own awkwardness for a second before saying; "Yes? Can I help you?"

"Uh, Mr. Cullen? I'm sorry to bug you. It's Bella Swan. I'm friends with Alice? I was hoping Alice was around. I, uh, my truck won't start and I forgot to charge my stupid cell phone, of course, and I was hoping I could use your phone?" She sounded half apologetic, half puzzled by my bizarre door slamming.

"I'll meet you out front, Miss Swan. Give me a minute to wrap up this phone call." I knew she'd think I was weird meeting her outside but I couldn't risk being in the office with her.

I waited a minute to make sure she had left and then I glanced in the mirror in the bathroom. I tried to straighten my hair up a little but it just flopped back into its natural disheveled state. Taking a deep unnecessary breath I walked down the stairs. There was part of me that was really excited about finally meeting her. The crazy, masochistic part.

Bella Swan stood on the sidewalk a few doors down from our office in front of her decrepit red truck. She wore jeans and a sweatshirt and her long brown hair covered her face as she stared at her feet. She looked up as I walked out of the building.

"Miss Swan. Nice to finally meet you." I looked at her stomach to see if she was showing yet. Nothing.

She noticed my glance at her stomach and a slight frown appeared on her face and then disappeared as she smiled shyly in greeting.

"Yeah, uh, sorry to bother you, Mr. Cullen, but I was just hoping I could use your phone to call the guy who fixes my truck?"

"Call me Edward."

"Edward. Thanks." I handed her the cordless phone from my office and walked over to her truck. "Do you mind?" I gestured to the hood.

"Uh, no. Do you know anything about cars?" I walked to the cab to find the hood release and popped it.

"I know a little. My sister Rosalie is the mechanic in the family, though."

"Oh." She frowned at me again and then began dialing a number on the phone. I looked at the inner workings of her truck but couldn't see anything obvious. As if one of my vampire powers was some kind of truck repair super-sense.

I was finding Bella's scent tempting but manageable outside; strangely I found myself more intrigued by her actions than her blood. It was surreal and a little bit unnerving to finally interact with this creature whose avoidance I had been obsessed with.

"Hey, Jacob?...This is Bella. My truck isn't starting and I was hoping you could help me out again?" I heard her talking and found myself wishing I had pushed harder to have Rosalie help her. Peculiarly, I wanted to be the one taking care of her. Apparently, pregnant women arouse my protective/controlling side.

She finished her phone call and walked over to me

"Thanks. I just have to wait for the tow truck." She handed me back the phone. I took it from her hand while maintaining my five-foot distance by stretching out my arm. Like a freak.

"I'll wait with you," I said. She frowned again slightly. 'You don't have to do that, um, Edward. I'm sure you have work to do. And Forks is pretty safe, you know." She laughed nervously.

"It's not a problem." I looked at her stomach again, trying to figure out how far along she was. She frowned at me again and I looked away. I couldn't think of anything to say to her. She didn't seem as affected by my appearance as other humans. She was neither afraid of me nor did she seem attracted to me.

"So, you're a private detective?" She was the one who broke the silence.

"Yeah," was my brilliant response. Scintilating, Cullen.

"So do you have a trenchcoat and a fedora? Isn't that standard for a private detective? How about a drinking problem?" She blushed slightly at this last. "I mean, I shouldn't…"

"It's OK," I reassured her. "I don't have a problem with alcohol but my brother does own a bar." It's true. Emmett owns a bar in town. He named it "Liquid Diet". We are a clever lot, we Cullens.

"I have a trenchcoat and fedora, too. They're up in the office." I smile at her. Then I run out of things to say. I just stare at her trying to read her mind. Which I still totally cannot do, by the way.

"Alice says she helps you out? What kind of stuff do you guys do?"

"Mostly little stuff. Missing pets, cheating husbands." I look at her as she scans the road for her tow truck. She seemed uncomfortable. She also seemed cold; she was rubbing her upper arms. All of a sudden I was struck by how pretty she was. It wasn't often that I thought of a human woman that way but she was. Her eyes were large and dark as they peeked out from behind her thick brown hair. The contrast of her pale skin and the faint rose of her cheeks was really lovely. Her lips had a faint pout; the delicacy of her features reminded me of another time, perhaps when I was still alive. She had what had been called a "rosebud" mouth in my time; I could imagine her with her hair piled atop her head in a high-necked blouse in a sepia portrait from a century ago.

I was brought back to reality by the honking of a horn and I realized that I had ignored the signs of her discomfort from the cold and had been staring at her for longer than was socially acceptable. And, just in case that wasn't bad enough, the tow truck that was pulling up behind her vehicle was being driven by a fucking wolf. Great.

a/n: OK, so bear with me while I have this bizarre moral crisis. I try not to base my self-worth as a writer on the number of reviews I get (which is great, since my first story got like 4 reviews) so I kind of feel like a review-whore exchanging them for teasers. So, here's the deal: You do not have to review to get the teaser. I will still send them out if you do review but I will also post them on my blog on Monday/Tuesday. Deal? That way you can still respect me in the morning. Thanks! JuJu