My eyes widened.“Someone reported me?”
He nodded, his mouth twitching.I deduced he was working hard to suppress a grin.“Mrs.Grimshaw, up there.”
He nodded at the house I was parked outside, a low-slung brick ranch with a big picture window in the front.If I squinted, I could just make out a human figure through the glass.
“She reported me?”
Mendoza nodded.“She called 911 and said a suspicious vehicle had been parked outside her house for more than an hour.Big and black, she said.And I think she may have mentioned the X-files.”
“Not really?”
“Probably not,” Mendoza admitted.“But she did call 911 and report suspicious activity.”
He took a step back to run his gaze along the side of my new-to-me Lexus.“New car?”
“The convertible was too conspicuous.”
“That’s too bad,” Mendoza said.
I shrugged.The SUV was all right.I couldn’t drive around with the wind blowing through my hair—not unless I rolled down all the windows and created a sort of whirlwind effect inside the car, which wouldn’t do my hair any good—but it was a small price to pay for being inconspicuous.“So what are you doing here?The neighbor called, yes.But you’re a homicide detective.Or did they demote you after you got yourself knocked out and stuck in the vault?”
“No,” Mendoza said, sounding annoyed, “they didn’t demote me.I solved my case, and arrested a murderer and an embezzler.My lieutenant, and the lieutenant in the white collar crime division, are both very happy with me.”
“Good for you.So what are you doing here?No one’s dead.”
“Mrs.Grimshaw used her binoculars to get your license plate number,” Mendoza said.“When they put your name into the database, they saw you were flagged as a person of interest in one of my cases.So they tagged me.”
“And you volunteered to come out and check on what I was doing?”
He nodded.
“No dead bodies taking up your time today?”
“Not so far.”Although his tone intimated that I was in danger of changing that.I deduced I was annoying the detective.
“I’m sorry,” I said.“There’s nothing going on here.Certainly nothing Mrs.Grimshaw has to worry about.Steven Morton is in that house up there, where the brown sedan is parked.That’s his car.As soon as he leaves, I’ll be leaving, too.”
“It would be better if you left now,” Mendoza told me, “but you’re in a public place, and not threatening anyone with your presence, so there isn’t much I can do about it if you won’t.”
No, there wasn’t.Although if he really insisted, I’d do as he said.It’s always a good idea to stay on friendly terms with the police.
Of course, I’d just park around the corner and wait for Steven to drive by.And then I’d follow Steven home.Or back to the university.Or wherever he was going next.
“Let me give you a piece of advice, though,” Mendoza added.
“Sure.”
“Next time you’re planning to stake out a house for any length of time, give the police a call first.Not 911, just the regular number.Introduce yourself, tell them who you are, give them your license number, and explain what you’re doing.That way, if someone like Mrs.Grimshaw calls, they won’t have to send anyone out to check.”
Good advice.However...
“You didn’t have to come out here,” I felt compelled to point out.“You knew it was me.And you must have known I wasn’t doing anything illegal.”
“You had a restraining order filed against you last month,” Mendoza reminded me.
“She was my husband’s mistress!I had the right to know what she looked like!”
“You didn’t have the right to park outside her apartment for hours at a time and stare at her through your binoculars.”
