I noticed the van parked outside of my apartment in Clinton Hill, Brooklyn, last night. Men with cameras were creeping around while a woman with a microphone waited close by. They watched me as I unlocked the door to my building, then looked away. I went upstairs and made dinner. The last time I looked outside my window, a short while after Making The Band 4 ended, the van was still there.

I left the house this morning at 11:30. The van was gone, but a group of well-dressed white people took its place. The woman with the microphone yelled over to me.

“Excuse me,” she said. “Do you live in that building?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Do you know Tameka Lewis?” she asked.

“Not at all,” I said, walking away.

I called my roommate before I stepped onto the train and left a message asking if he’d ever heard of Tameka Lewis. He left a voicemail for me while I was on the train: “They asked me that, too,” he said. “If you find out who she is, call me.”

I came home a few hours later to find the gang of four still parked in front of my building. Having recognized my face from this morning, they ignored me this time. I ran upstairs and hit the internet where, after several aborted attempts at spelling her name right, I hit the jackpot: According to this story in Newsday, “A women identifed as Tameka R. Lewis or ‘Rachelle’ was identified in legal papers as one of the operators of the prostitution service and the person who made the arrangements for Client 9. A doorman at her last known address at the YWCA at 33th Avenue in Brooklyn said she had not lived there in two years.”

Apparently, Ms. Lewis — essentially, Eliot Spitzer’s hooker hook-up — moved to a brownstone on St. James Place in Brooklyn, next door to me. Unsurprisingly, she’s not stepping out of her house.