Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Her better half
Questions, answers, omens
2 reviewsKirsh investigates and talks to Patrick, Joe and Andy. Phebe doesn't appreciate the detective's actions.
2Exciting
Chapter 9: Questions, answers, omens
What follows the Moe-Kirsh incident is an enraged Pete calling the police station and complaining to Krish's superior Maxwell, an enraged Maxwell calling Kirsh and Kirsh admitting her mistake to Maxwell as well as insisting that she's got everything under control.
"Kirsh, you know, you're one of my best officers and if I thought that there was somebody better suited for this job he'd be there instead of you, but if you mess up like this again you're outta there and Hutchinson is in. Period."
"I got you," the detective mumbles into he cell phone and then flips it closed.
"So, when's the new officer coming over?" Pete hisses.
"Sorry, but I'm staying with you," Kirsh says. She turns towards Moe, who is sitting on the sofa a few feet from where the bassist and the cop are standing.
"I must apologize to you again, Ms. Sommer. I was so unprepared to find somebody other than Mr. Wentz here, and then I found you going through his stuff-"
Moe nods, "You've made a mistake. Luckily, no-one got hurt. Apology accepted."
"Are you kidding me, Moe?!" Pete blurts out. "She aimed a gun at you!"
His girlfriend gets up and walks over to him. "You have to look at it this way, honey: Officer Kirsh is taking her job of protecting you very seriously... If she's staying with you I'm feeling better about leaving you for one week."
She notices the confused look on his face. "The promotion gig in Italy, remember?"
The man slaps himself on the forehead, "Why, sure... God, I've completely forgotten about your trip to Italy in all this mess."
Krish decides to leave the couple alone.
"Good night," she says softly and retreats to her room.
Wentz could have really told me about his girlfriend dropping by. Or that she has her own key. All he said was that he lived alone. I have no clue who has open access to his house. In fact, that's my fault. I should have asked him. It's part of my job to ask such questions. Has the maternity leave robbed me of the basic rules of the trade? I could kick my own ass for this.
"Good morning," Kirsh nods at Pete who's sitting at the kitchen island, sipping his coffee.
He looks at her, "Hey."
As the detective is putting on her jacket he points at the gun in her holster, "I don't think you will need that today. My girlfriend's gone already."
"We'll see... maybe your mother's coming over later," she jokes, mainly out of embarrassment and irritation. The woman walks over to the coffee maker and helps herself to some caffeine.
"Ha... funny," Pete says in monotone.
She sits down next to him and takes a sip from her mug.
"I'm meeting my band for practice in half an hour," the bassist mentions, staring at the dark liquid in front of him.
"I'm ready to go."
"Listen, do you really think it's necessary that you follow me around like a shadow all the time? I'm with my friends there, there's too many people around. She wouldn't try anything there."
Kirsh sighs mentally. Does this kid think she's getting a kick out of this?
"Mr. Wentz, it's my job to protect you 24 hours a day. I'm going where you are going."
He gives up. The people at his record company told him to go with whatever the police are suggesting.
Two hours later Kirsh is sitting in a padded room with plugs in her ears.
When she arrived with Pete his bandmates were surprised. With a few short sentences the man explained the situation. None of the three other men was really taken aback that their friend has become a victim of a stalker, but all expressed their sympathy and wanted to know how he was dealing.
Pete was annoyed with the situation. He didn't want to talk about this, he didn't want to attach this kind of importance to it. The record label helped this wanna-be bodyguard Kirsh to tie his hands behind his back, leaving him as a passive puppet on a string.
Once they quartet started playing, the whirlwind of frustration in his head cleared up. He let himself become one with his instrument, lived in the moment. Without the crazy chick, without the police, without everybody, just him and the sound.
"Hey! Pete!" Joe waves a hand in front of his face.
The bassist stops playing and takes off his earphones.
"What?"
"Break," the lead guitarist replies just as harshly. He doesn't have to take it out on him.
Kirsh pulls the plugs out of her ears and walks over to the musicians, "I would like to talk to each of you. Anything, even the tiniest little clue, that helps us to establish who the stalker could be, is of immense importance right now."
Pete wants to protest but he doesn't. He would lose in the end anyway.
While Kirsh is talking to Patrick, the bassist stands on the other side of the room with a soda can in his hand.
"Thank you for being so cooperative, Mr. Stump," the detective starts the conversation.
"Don't mention it... but I don't think I can be of great help in this matter," he brushes against one of his sideburns.
In the course of the dialog the officer understands that Pete has always sought the spotlight more than any of the other members of the band.
"He's always put in extra effort to keep close contact to the fan base... Despite whatever doubts and self-criticism - self-destruction even - he's harboring in the back of his mind, he's great in public. He's a media guy... I guess this attracts stalkers," Patrick points out.
"And this works out in the band? You're fine with him taking the lead? I mean, you're the lead singer after all..."
Kirsh is not exactly an expert on youth culture and popular music but it strikes her as odd that it's not the singer of this band who is the spokesperson.
Patrick is tired of this question. It's been asked numerous times by TV hosts, magazine journalists, fans. He doesn't show his annoyance, this is a cop and it's his duty to do everything in his power to help them find the culprit.
"No, in fact, I'm glad that Pete's fulfilling this role. I'm not fit for it."
The detective takes a long shot and asks him what he thinks about Moranne Sommer.
"Ah... it's funny you should ask me."
She looks at him expectantly, "Why is that?"
"Hasn't Pete told you that I'm not entirely happy with them dating?"
She shakes her head. Interesting.
Patrick sticks his hands between his thighs and slumps his shoulders, "Well, I'm not. I don't think she's right for him. Not right now anyway."
"Do you think she could be the stalker, Mr. Stump?"
The question surprises him. Ok, so he wasn't a fan of Moe but he never thought of her as a dangerous person.
"I don't know. I don't know her that well. I don't think so though... Say, have you talked to Pete about this suspicion?"
"Thank you, Mr. Stump. That would be all."
Joe points out that there's been the same blond girl in the front row at their latest shows. He noticed how she was looking at Pete but, of course, didn't think anything special of it.
"Tons of girls check him out like that... What did surprise me though is that Pete flirted back at her a good deal. But I can't give you any details, when I'm on stage I am an animal and I focus on the music."
"Thank you, Mr. Trohman. That's very helpful."
"This is horrible," Andy says.
"Mr. Hurley, can you think of anyone who could want to harm Mr. Wentz? Does he have any enemies?"
The drummer thinks and then shakes his head, "No-one I can think of now. I mean, I don't know all of Pete's friends... and everyone's got secrets, right?... There's one or two people that I could name right now that I know Pete has pissed off. But not to the extent that they would pretend to be a crazed fan and start bombarding him with weird messages and go through his clothes."
She writes down the names.
While Kirsh was talking to Joe and Andy Pete left the room. He needed to get out for a while. Fresh air would do him good. When he returned 10 minutes later the headache was back but at least the questioning was over.
On the way home Pete texts Moe and checks his websites.
"Man... this only made things worse," he grunts, staring at the display of his sidekick.
Kirsh averts her eyes from the road for a second and looks at him, "Is there a problem?"
She's growing tired of his constant playing around with his stupid gadget.
"Here," he holds the phone so that she can take a look at the screen while he's scrolling down the long row of the same message:
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
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WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
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WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
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WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
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WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
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WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
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WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
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WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
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WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
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WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
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WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
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WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
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WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DON'T YOU TRUST ME? KIRSH. GET RID OF HER OR ELSE...
"What's that?" she asks dumbly.
"This is my personal page and these are an ass-load of messages from a crazy chick that is pissed off. She's actually threatening me now. Thanks a lot, Kirsh."
"You think that is her? Phebe?"
"Who else?!" the man snorts. He knew this whole protection thing was a bad idea.
The detective is not impressed. Phebe is obviously watching Wentz's house. For her it's not too difficult to figure out that I'm a cop, even if I'm in civilian clothes.
"She's realizing that we're onto her. This was an act of desperation, Mr. Wentz. I got everything under control," Kirsh says calmly.
When people get emotional they make mistakes and this Phebe reacted highly emotionally when she found out that Wentz had consulted the police. It's only a matter of time until she makes a mistake and that's when we'll catch her.
What follows the Moe-Kirsh incident is an enraged Pete calling the police station and complaining to Krish's superior Maxwell, an enraged Maxwell calling Kirsh and Kirsh admitting her mistake to Maxwell as well as insisting that she's got everything under control.
"Kirsh, you know, you're one of my best officers and if I thought that there was somebody better suited for this job he'd be there instead of you, but if you mess up like this again you're outta there and Hutchinson is in. Period."
"I got you," the detective mumbles into he cell phone and then flips it closed.
"So, when's the new officer coming over?" Pete hisses.
"Sorry, but I'm staying with you," Kirsh says. She turns towards Moe, who is sitting on the sofa a few feet from where the bassist and the cop are standing.
"I must apologize to you again, Ms. Sommer. I was so unprepared to find somebody other than Mr. Wentz here, and then I found you going through his stuff-"
Moe nods, "You've made a mistake. Luckily, no-one got hurt. Apology accepted."
"Are you kidding me, Moe?!" Pete blurts out. "She aimed a gun at you!"
His girlfriend gets up and walks over to him. "You have to look at it this way, honey: Officer Kirsh is taking her job of protecting you very seriously... If she's staying with you I'm feeling better about leaving you for one week."
She notices the confused look on his face. "The promotion gig in Italy, remember?"
The man slaps himself on the forehead, "Why, sure... God, I've completely forgotten about your trip to Italy in all this mess."
Krish decides to leave the couple alone.
"Good night," she says softly and retreats to her room.
Wentz could have really told me about his girlfriend dropping by. Or that she has her own key. All he said was that he lived alone. I have no clue who has open access to his house. In fact, that's my fault. I should have asked him. It's part of my job to ask such questions. Has the maternity leave robbed me of the basic rules of the trade? I could kick my own ass for this.
"Good morning," Kirsh nods at Pete who's sitting at the kitchen island, sipping his coffee.
He looks at her, "Hey."
As the detective is putting on her jacket he points at the gun in her holster, "I don't think you will need that today. My girlfriend's gone already."
"We'll see... maybe your mother's coming over later," she jokes, mainly out of embarrassment and irritation. The woman walks over to the coffee maker and helps herself to some caffeine.
"Ha... funny," Pete says in monotone.
She sits down next to him and takes a sip from her mug.
"I'm meeting my band for practice in half an hour," the bassist mentions, staring at the dark liquid in front of him.
"I'm ready to go."
"Listen, do you really think it's necessary that you follow me around like a shadow all the time? I'm with my friends there, there's too many people around. She wouldn't try anything there."
Kirsh sighs mentally. Does this kid think she's getting a kick out of this?
"Mr. Wentz, it's my job to protect you 24 hours a day. I'm going where you are going."
He gives up. The people at his record company told him to go with whatever the police are suggesting.
Two hours later Kirsh is sitting in a padded room with plugs in her ears.
When she arrived with Pete his bandmates were surprised. With a few short sentences the man explained the situation. None of the three other men was really taken aback that their friend has become a victim of a stalker, but all expressed their sympathy and wanted to know how he was dealing.
Pete was annoyed with the situation. He didn't want to talk about this, he didn't want to attach this kind of importance to it. The record label helped this wanna-be bodyguard Kirsh to tie his hands behind his back, leaving him as a passive puppet on a string.
Once they quartet started playing, the whirlwind of frustration in his head cleared up. He let himself become one with his instrument, lived in the moment. Without the crazy chick, without the police, without everybody, just him and the sound.
"Hey! Pete!" Joe waves a hand in front of his face.
The bassist stops playing and takes off his earphones.
"What?"
"Break," the lead guitarist replies just as harshly. He doesn't have to take it out on him.
Kirsh pulls the plugs out of her ears and walks over to the musicians, "I would like to talk to each of you. Anything, even the tiniest little clue, that helps us to establish who the stalker could be, is of immense importance right now."
Pete wants to protest but he doesn't. He would lose in the end anyway.
While Kirsh is talking to Patrick, the bassist stands on the other side of the room with a soda can in his hand.
"Thank you for being so cooperative, Mr. Stump," the detective starts the conversation.
"Don't mention it... but I don't think I can be of great help in this matter," he brushes against one of his sideburns.
In the course of the dialog the officer understands that Pete has always sought the spotlight more than any of the other members of the band.
"He's always put in extra effort to keep close contact to the fan base... Despite whatever doubts and self-criticism - self-destruction even - he's harboring in the back of his mind, he's great in public. He's a media guy... I guess this attracts stalkers," Patrick points out.
"And this works out in the band? You're fine with him taking the lead? I mean, you're the lead singer after all..."
Kirsh is not exactly an expert on youth culture and popular music but it strikes her as odd that it's not the singer of this band who is the spokesperson.
Patrick is tired of this question. It's been asked numerous times by TV hosts, magazine journalists, fans. He doesn't show his annoyance, this is a cop and it's his duty to do everything in his power to help them find the culprit.
"No, in fact, I'm glad that Pete's fulfilling this role. I'm not fit for it."
The detective takes a long shot and asks him what he thinks about Moranne Sommer.
"Ah... it's funny you should ask me."
She looks at him expectantly, "Why is that?"
"Hasn't Pete told you that I'm not entirely happy with them dating?"
She shakes her head. Interesting.
Patrick sticks his hands between his thighs and slumps his shoulders, "Well, I'm not. I don't think she's right for him. Not right now anyway."
"Do you think she could be the stalker, Mr. Stump?"
The question surprises him. Ok, so he wasn't a fan of Moe but he never thought of her as a dangerous person.
"I don't know. I don't know her that well. I don't think so though... Say, have you talked to Pete about this suspicion?"
"Thank you, Mr. Stump. That would be all."
Joe points out that there's been the same blond girl in the front row at their latest shows. He noticed how she was looking at Pete but, of course, didn't think anything special of it.
"Tons of girls check him out like that... What did surprise me though is that Pete flirted back at her a good deal. But I can't give you any details, when I'm on stage I am an animal and I focus on the music."
"Thank you, Mr. Trohman. That's very helpful."
"This is horrible," Andy says.
"Mr. Hurley, can you think of anyone who could want to harm Mr. Wentz? Does he have any enemies?"
The drummer thinks and then shakes his head, "No-one I can think of now. I mean, I don't know all of Pete's friends... and everyone's got secrets, right?... There's one or two people that I could name right now that I know Pete has pissed off. But not to the extent that they would pretend to be a crazed fan and start bombarding him with weird messages and go through his clothes."
She writes down the names.
While Kirsh was talking to Joe and Andy Pete left the room. He needed to get out for a while. Fresh air would do him good. When he returned 10 minutes later the headache was back but at least the questioning was over.
On the way home Pete texts Moe and checks his websites.
"Man... this only made things worse," he grunts, staring at the display of his sidekick.
Kirsh averts her eyes from the road for a second and looks at him, "Is there a problem?"
She's growing tired of his constant playing around with his stupid gadget.
"Here," he holds the phone so that she can take a look at the screen while he's scrolling down the long row of the same message:
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, PETE WENTZ?
WHY DON'T YOU TRUST ME? KIRSH. GET RID OF HER OR ELSE...
"What's that?" she asks dumbly.
"This is my personal page and these are an ass-load of messages from a crazy chick that is pissed off. She's actually threatening me now. Thanks a lot, Kirsh."
"You think that is her? Phebe?"
"Who else?!" the man snorts. He knew this whole protection thing was a bad idea.
The detective is not impressed. Phebe is obviously watching Wentz's house. For her it's not too difficult to figure out that I'm a cop, even if I'm in civilian clothes.
"She's realizing that we're onto her. This was an act of desperation, Mr. Wentz. I got everything under control," Kirsh says calmly.
When people get emotional they make mistakes and this Phebe reacted highly emotionally when she found out that Wentz had consulted the police. It's only a matter of time until she makes a mistake and that's when we'll catch her.
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