“Now I recall why I was reluctant to have my picture in the medical journal with that article on long-term diseases of the brain,” Violet said with a wry grimace when they were alone.
“Yes.” Jessica sighed as she looked over the menu.
After they’d ordered, Violet narrowed her eyes and studied her friend. “So,” she said, leaning in to the table, “are you going to tell me what’s happening?”
Jessica grimaced. “I have a slight problem.” She hesitated to mention it in view of the life-and-death struggles her friend dealt with every day.
“Yes?” Violet drew the word out.
“There’s a local politician, a semi-biggie, who’s, uh, sort of stalking me. I think.”
Violet’s manner became dead serious. “Who is it? Do you know? What’s he doing?”
“Roy Balter. I met him at a weekend party. I couldn’t take a step without falling over him. He asked for a date. I declined by saying my time was already spoken for. That usually discourages unwanted attention. But not with him. He repeatedly asked to see me.”
“What happened next?”
“When I returned to the city, it started out with flowers. Tons of them every day. After the first few, I refused to accept any others. Now it’s phone calls.”
“Demanding to see you?”
“No. Heavy breathing. When he first started calling my private line and wanting to meet for dinner or the theater, I changed the number. He got the new one, but now he doesn’t say anything when he calls.”
“Oh.” Her friend thought it over. “How do you know it’s him?”
“Feminine intuition and the fact that the telephone number is blocked from identification.”
Violet looked somewhat dubious. “I see.”
“I talked to the district judge, but without solid evidence, he can’t issue a restraining order. The police have informed me that without one they can’t do a thing, even if the man is in my building. He has to be in my condo.”
Jessica shuddered at the thought of him invading her private space. For the first time she admitted to herself that she was a tiny bit frightened by his persistence. It seemed obsessive…vindictive, even.
“You’re sure it’s him?”
“Positive. Sometimes he gives this little laugh just before he hangs up. I recognized it from the three days at the house party. It became quite annoying.”
“When he stayed glued to your side,” Violet concluded.
“Right.”
“Stalkers are dangerous. We need to do something.”
The nice thing about having a best friend like Violet was her willingness to take on another’s problems and plant herself in the middle of them. It had been Violet who had helped her fill out scholarship forms for college and prodded her when she’d felt discouraged.
“You’re too smart to settle down to a mediocre marriage and life in a small town. It’ll stifle you,” her mentor had told her with the confidence of being eighteen and an honor graduate of a prestigious prep school.
Jessica had held the second-highest grade point average in her graduating class, but that had been in Red Rock, and hadn’t counted for much, or so she had thought. Violet had disagreed and persuaded her to go for the gold, which in her case was a scholarship to study economics.
She really would have preferred classical guitar, but she didn’t think many people made a living at that. Her duty had been to her family.
However, because of the money she made from modeling, she had become interested in the investment world and had taken classes to qualify as a financial advisor for the day when her modeling career would be over. At thirty-three, she was lucky to still be on top.
Violet snapped her fingers, startling Jessica out of her introspection. “I know,” she said.
“Know what?”
“What you should do.”
“Oh, yeah?” Jessica asked. “Is this anything like your brainstorm when we were sixteen that we should go down to Galveston, collect sand fleas and sell them to fishermen in order to make a fortune, only we ended up with a bucket of rotten little critters that no one wanted?”
Violet gave her a mock stern frown. “Of course not. This is serious.” Her tone was light, but her eyes looked worried, making Jessica sorry she’d mentioned the problem. “I think you should go to Texas—”
“No way. That might put my parents in danger. And my sister and her family.”
“Let me finish. You should go to Texas and stay with my brothers at their ranch. No one will find you there. When your stalker realizes you’re gone, he’ll give up.”
Jessica wanted to believe that. “Why would he?”
“He gets his satisfaction from taunting you. If that stops, he’ll move on.”
“Right, to some other unlucky woman.”
Her friend nodded, her manner sympathetic. “That’s the way the world works, unfortunately.”
Their food came. Jessica murmured her thanks to the waitress, then gazed at Violet. “I can’t leave the city now. I have a full schedule until the end of the month. I had planned to take September and October off, though, before heading to Italy for a special swimsuit layout.”
“It’ll be cold in November,” Violet reminded her.
“Tell me about it. We’ll be filming in the Alps, if you can believe that.” She started on her chicken salad. “So how’s it going on the medical front? Any miracle cures I should know about?”
“I wish. I’m thinking of taking a cruise in the South Seas or something equally wild and extravagant.”
“Ha,” Jessica said, knowing her friend rarely took a day off, much less a whole week or more.
The conversation turned to general matters for the rest of the meal. When they were ready to leave, Violet laid a hand on her friend’s arm. “Think about the ranch. It would be a safe place. If nothing else, it would give you some peace of mind for a couple of months.”
“I’m sure your brothers would love for a stranger to crash on them for two months.”
“You’re not a stranger. Plus I’ve kept them up to date on your success. After all, how many people have a top model for a best friend? Promise me you’ll think about it.”
“I will. Maybe two weeks would be okay.”
“A month,” Violet promptly countered.
Jessica grinned and rolled her eyes. “A month, then. I’ll think about it.”
Outside they hugged and said farewell. Violet hurried off to the exciting world of brain cures and research studies. Jessica put on sunglasses and a denim tennis hat that pulled down snugly around her face, then strolled through Central Park for an hour before heading down Fifth Avenue to her home.
After nodding to a famous writer in the lobby, she walked up the steps to her floor. Although she was cordial to the man, she kept her distance. She’d learned that he’d voted against her purchasing the apartment when her approval had come before the condo association board. He didn’t like celebrities in the building. He thought it contributed to strangers hanging around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the well-known person, and making a nuisance of themselves.
She