When Perfect Meets Crazy novel Chapter 24

“Real funny,” Masked Idiot grumbled, falling into step with me as I walked along the curb, making the short trek to our vehicles.

“I thought it was.” I shrugged.

The tutoring session had gone well, my student was improving by leaps and to top it off, I made Masked Idiot hang outside, reacquainting himself with the great outdoors for a whole hour and a half which he had to have hated. All things considered, I was feeling pretty good about myself.

I stole a glance at his profile, silently debating whether or not to follow through with my plan. I had stewed over it the entire time I was tutoring. He knew too much about me. Sure, I didn’t think he would do anything to hurt me but something had been off about him for a while now. I couldn’t shake the feeling something bad was about to happen. I needed to find a soft spot to press, just in case it did.

I sneakily took a picture of him while I was in the Davidsons’ house. It involved a lot of zooming in and improvisation but I managed it. Explaining why I was standing at the window with my phone up wasn’t a pleasant experience but I got the picture so it was worth it. As soon as I got the chance, I was going to ask Parker to look into him for me. Hopefully, he won’t ask too many questions about why.

Now it was time for phase two.

“I have a theory I want to run by you,” I informed him.

His brows rose, confused surprise coloring his features.

“Ohh-kay.” He slowed his pace. “I’ll do my best to help.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I will know when I get warm. Your expression will tell me.”

“My expression?” He frowned, stopping in his tracks.

“Don’t worry about it. I have that part covered.” I flashed him an innocent smile. “It’s something I learnt from my dad. It’s part of the theory I want to try out.”

He nodded reluctantly and gestured for me to get on with it. I stopped, drew in a deep breath, schooled my face into expressionless mask and faced him.

A rich kid as an underground fighter didn’t make sense for so many reasons and I definitely wasn’t mistaken about him being rich. His watches that I had seen so far included Muellers, a Rolex, Hublots and a few Richard Milles. And those were just the ones I recognized. Then, there was his two hundred thousand dollar donation at the gala which pretty much cemented the rich kid theory. No illegal job paid that much.

Well, drug trade and armed robbery aside.

Fortunately, I was willing to bet I was a better shot than he was so that cancelled out high stakes armed robber. That and I had never seen a gun on his person. It was doubtful he had one or he would’ve pulled it out on me already, to put the fear of God in me and whatnot.

On the other hand, he didn’t have the looks of a drug dealer. His nose was too straight and his eyes too communicative for a dealer. And if despite all the reasons he couldn’t be one, he was, I would’ve known. I may or may not, sort of, have a contact in the drug network. A friend of a friend situation. It wasn’t a relationship I was proud of or one that I formed knowingly but yes, I had a few skeletons in my closet before Masked Idiot rolled around. 

Anyway, the only plausible explanation left was that there was some obscure convoluted reason for his illegal activities. One that didn’t involve money. Money was the only universal motivator. My dad had hammered it into my head since I was a kid to be wary of people who didn’t follow established patterns of greed. Anything outside the norm, especially emotional motivations, was touchy. Outliers could easily spell betrayal.

I eyed him up, suspicion coating my gaze.

I needed to trick him into revealing his motive, whatever it was because, thanks to his attitude lately, I was now hyper aware of the fact that I only ever felt the creepy stalker-like gaze when he was conveniently absent. Always only when he was unaccounted for.

Sometimes you need to say things out loud to realize what you’re missing. A flickered gaze, a twitch of the fingers, dilated pupils. It’s the small details you have to watch closely for. That’s where you’ll find the full story, my dad’s voice reminded me.

That was phase two. It was a trick both Olly and I had picked up from him. Well, I actually wasn’t sure if Olly picked it up too. He always used to tell us when we were younger that sometimes we’d be too hung up on one line of thought or on the big things that we’d fail to see how the small dots connected. That we’d ‘be too busy trying to avoid the truck, we’d end up running over the pedestrian.’

He would say we should say it out loud, think out loud. That it would help us pick up on the small clues and to do it in front of the suspect if possible and watch their reaction to each word. It was a trick he used when interrogating. He used to repeat it all the time. It pissed Olly and I off so much back then. We’d surreptitiously roll our eyes but nod diligently whenever he was looking.

It was time to see how well it would work on Masked Idiot.

I glanced behind, noting that we were far enough from the Davidsons’ home that I wasn’t going to be seen arguing with an unknown boy on the curb.

“What is your big theory then?” he inquired with an exaggerated eye roll.

Time to get the show on the road.

“Your off days,” I began, pausing to prop one hand on my hip. “By that I mean the days you’re not visibly following me around.”

He nodded impatiently, urging me to get to the point.

“On some of those days, you not so covertly stalk me from afar like a proper psycho, yes?”

He frowned, visibly tensing. My stomach sank with despair and unexpected disappointment. It was then I realized how much I had been hoping it was just in my head.

“On the remaining occasional days,” I persevered, ignoring the chill that had washed over me. “You don’t, so I’m inferring it’s on those days that you actually catch up on your real life. Correct?”

Ease him into it, slowly and gently. You don’t want him to be on guard, my dad’s voice warned.