Without thinking it through, I rushed toward him.
If I wasn’t careful, I could start mass chaos and panic in here. That wouldn’t be good either.
Think, Gabby. Think.
I decided to utilize my acting skills. This plan was the best I could come up with off the cuff. I slowed my steps until I reached the table. I drew in a deep breath before “accidentally” tripping and landing on the table. As I hoped, everyone’s soup flew out of their bowls.
The guests of honor rushed to their feet, gasping and saying not-so-nice things about me. Several people assisted Munich. Almost all of them gave me dirty looks.
“I’m so sorry,” I muttered, placing my hand over my heart in what I hoped looked like distress. “I’m such a klutz.”
Munich wiped his suit with a napkin and looked up at me. “Don’t worry about it.”
He actually sounded sincere.
“You need to watch where you’re going,” another man said with a growl to his voice.
At least Munich hadn’t eaten that soup.
I glanced across the room and spotted Julian. Our eyes connected.
He knew that I knew, I realized.
He started toward the hallway. No way was I letting him get away. Not a chance.
I dashed across the room, dodging two men who looked like security for the event. Where was Riley? Robert Hawk? I needed both of them right now.
“Ma’am!” one of the guards yelled.
I ignored him and kept on going. I wasn’t letting Julian out of my sight. Not if I could help it.
I managed to slink away from security. Julian cut into a back hallway, near the kitchen if I had to guess.
He darted in a room in the distance.
Just as I stepped into the space, screams sounded behind me. I glanced back in time to see flames burst to life.
Fire? What had happened? This wasn’t good.
My lungs burned by the time I reached the door where Julian had disappeared. I threw the door open and stepped inside. It was dark.
Which should have been my first clue.
Before I realized what was happening, someone shoved me. The door slammed. The lights came on.
Katarina stood there in the middle of the supply closet, pointing a gun at me.
“You should have left well enough alone,” she muttered, her English suddenly perfect. “But now we have to do this the hard way.”
This wasn’t good. I swallowed hard and stepped back, unable to pull my gaze away from the gun barrel. “There’s no hard way necessary.”
“You ruined our plan that we’ve been working on for weeks,” Julian said. “Me getting a job at The Crispy Biscuit was no mistake.”
We began doing the whole “circle while you walk with your hands raised in the air and a gun is pointed at you” thing.
“Was Emma Jean your test subject for poisoned food?” I asked.
Satisfaction gleamed in Julian’s eyes. “As a matter of fact, yes. I wasn’t sure exactly how much oleander I would need. Who better to test it out on than the ever-annoying Emma Jean?”
“I’m guessing that when you gave her that last dose, it didn’t act fast enough. She suspected you were up to no good, but it was too late to add more poison to her soup. So you followed her that night. Saw her spying on Katarina behind The Yoga Tree. You’re a smart man, and you wondered if it might ever come down to this. So you stole one of Jerry’s tools when you took your car into the shop to have it fixed. You knew it would come in handy.”
“Smart girl,” Julian said.
At least one person thought so tonight.
“You killed her, left the wrench where it would be discovered, but then you went on to make things even more complicated. You hated Greg Borski, and you saw an opportunity to make his life miserable as well. You brought Emma Jean back to The Crispy Biscuit and put her in the freezer.”
“He almost messed up everything,” Katarina said, her gun still raised toward me. “With the restaurant being shut down, we could have lost this catering event.”
“That would have ruined your whole plan.”
“Thankfully, it didn’t.” Julian scowled at Katarina, who scowled back at him.
“So you two are Russian mafia?” I said, remembering Robert’s words.
They both froze and stared at me.
“What? No. Why would you think that?” Julian looked at me like I’d said he was Mother Teresa reincarnated.
Why did they look so shocked? “Why else would you want to kill Philip Munich?”
“There are plenty of reasons. That’s such a generalization. Insulting, really.” Katarina raised her nose.
Where was Riley? Robert? Anyone?
The fire was stopping them, I realized. It had blocked the entrance to the hallway. It would stop me also if I wasn’t careful. Who knew how far the flames had spread? My best guess was that no one could get to us right now. I was flying solo.
I licked my lips. “So who do you work for?”
“No one,” Julian said. “Philip Munich killed our brother.”
My jaw dropped. “Frederick Mason was your brother? The boy who died of asthma?”
Katarina scowled. “That’s right. Munich left him there to die. He should be held responsible.”
“How’d you find out? I thought it was a secret.”
“I heard that Steve Patterson was shopping it around,” Katarina started. “That news got back to me. I found out through the grapevine. That’s no way to learn the truth about your brother’s death. Then I heard that Bill McCormick was spineless enough to buy it.”
I guess that explained why they were dating . . .
“But I thought you were a victim here,” I continued. “Who tried to abduct you in the parking garage?”
Katarina shrugged as she stood in front of the door. “I had to set that up. Julian was driving. Of course. I had to make sure Bill thought I was a victim.”
“So you tried to run me over in the parking lot?” I turned to Julian.
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“You knew that day when I was cleaning the freezer who I was?”
“Yeah, of course, Gassy.” He chuckled.
“And you locked me in the freezer?”
“You made it easy. If only someone hadn’t found out and rescued you.”
While I was at it, I might as well ask this final question, “And did you shoot at us at my apartment?”
Julian shrugged. “Yeah, that was me. I was trying to discourage you from pursuing this anymore. It didn’t work.”
“None of this matters,” Katarina continued. “What matters is this: Philip Munich must pay. His behaviors can’t be rewarded by allowing him to win this election.”
“Why not just go public with the information then?” I asked. “Why go through all this trouble instead?”
“Bill is the only one who has proof. If it’s our word against his, then no one will believe us” Katarina said. “They’ll think we were planted by the other political party to ruin him.”
Julian raised his gun. “Okay, enough talking. You’re also inconsequential.”
My heart pounded faster. Would this be the time I didn’t get out alive? I knew it was just a matter of time. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Of course, we do,” Katarina muttered.
Just then, the door opened, slamming into Katarina. The gun fell from her hands. I grabbed it before Julian could.
Bill stood there, looking more confused than I’d ever seen him.
“Katarina, I was so worried about you. I barely managed to get through the doorway unscathed because of the fire—” He froze when he saw me. “Why are you holding a gun, Gabby?”
I sighed. Really? “Your girlfriend just tried to kill me.”
“Katarina? She would never do that.” Disbelief etched every word.
Bill had it bad. He’d been blinded by his love—or lust, whichever it was.
I kept the gun raised, just in case anyone tried
to make any moves. Everyone seemed frozen.
“Oh, you’re so not smart, Bill McCormick.” Katarina crossed her arms and frowned, not looking quite so pretty with that expression. “You think I really loved you?”
His face went slack, and I felt sorry for him. Like, really, really sorry.
“What do you mean?” His voice made him sound like a wounded child.
She sneered. “I was only dating you to find out the information you had on Munich. I heard you’d purchased it, you disgusting excuse for a human.”
“What?” His bottom lip dropped open. He was truly shocked, I realized.
“Do I look like your type?” Katarina continued, kicking the poor man while he was down.
“I’d say so,” he said. Like any red-blooded man, he believed beautiful women were definitely his type. His chest puffed out even more.
At that moment, the cops rushed into the room.
I lowered the gun as Katarina and Julian were arrested. Riley followed behind law enforcement, dashing into the room and pulling me into his embrace.
“I was so worried,” he said. “The doorway was totally blocked by the fire, and the emergency doors were locked.”
“I’m just glad you’re okay. I didn’t know what was going on out there.”
“The fire . . . it’s out now. No one was hurt. Someone knocked a candle over and it set a curtain on fire. Munich was rushed somewhere safe.”
Adams appeared a moment later with Robert at his side. The former Secret Service agent rubbed his head. When Robert saw me, he scowled.
“Look who I found locked in a closet,” Adams muttered. “He said he knows you.”
“I thought you might come and act as backup,” I said to Robert. Then I remembered his incorrect assertion about the mafia. “And you were wrong, by the way.”
He rubbed his head again. “You’re right. I wasn’t part of the Secret Service.”
That hadn’t been what I was talking about, but . . . “What were you?”
“I was an administrative assistant,” he admitted. His entire face seemed to droop.
He was embarrassed, I realized. Good. After he’d put me down so many times earlier, he deserved a little humbling.
“Mrs. Thomas?” a suited man asked at the door. “We’re going to need to talk to you.”
Maybe he was the real Secret Service. I nodded and made sure Riley stuck with me this time, just in case.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Sierra and Chad sat with me on the bleachers as we waited for Riley’s turn to compete in the National Warrior Challenge qualifying competition. Bill had just shown up, and my dad and his fiancée, Teddi, were supposed to be here soon.
The competition was being held in a large festival park in downtown Norfolk. Lights, bright and glaring, were set up around the course. Excitement filled the air as everyone cheered for their competitor. Several cameras recorded the whole thing, and two commentators sat in a high-perched booth, offering commentary from their vantage point over the loudspeaker.
The weather this evening had also turned chilly, and I was glad I’d brought an oversized sweatshirt with me. I gripped the coffee in my hands and waited for Riley’s turn to begin. I might have been more nervous than he was.
As I watched a woman mess up and flop into the water beneath the course, my mind drifted to everything that had happened over the past couple of weeks.
Katarina and Julian had been arrested. Their real names were Katarina and Julian Mason. Frederick was their brother. A case into what had happened to him was being opened. That meant that Philip Munich’s role in that was also being examined. Limited portions as to what was going on had been leaked to the media. Bill McCormick had beat the mainstream press to the information, which had surged his ratings again. It seemed to quickly heal him of his broken heart.
Munich claimed he was innocent and that this was an election ploy. The public might not find out the real truth until after the election, which was unsettling, to say the least.
Last I’d heard, Borski had decided to close The Crispy Biscuit still, but he was talking about starting a new restaurant near D.C.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Bill said.
“What’s that?” I took a sip of my coffee.
“Why aren’t you more fired up about this election? Everyone else is acting like life and death hinges on who wins. You seem pretty relaxed.”
I quickly tried to think of the best way to explain it to him. “I guess I can sum it up with this: Some trust in chariots, but I trust in the name of the Lord my God.”
Bill literally scratched his head. “Huh?”
I shook my head, realizing there were better ways to explain my faith to someone who didn’t have any. “I’m just saying that my trust isn’t in any politician. The next president of the United States isn’t going to save the world. Even if he’s a Christian, he’s not going to convert everyone to Jesus. My trust is in a Higher Power, one who controls the wind and waves. Who holds tomorrow in His hands. Who’s reigned through all the storms of life.”
Bill nodded slowly. “I think that’s a great perspective. I’m not sure I agree. But I like it and think it’s admirable.”
Silence fell for a minute.
“You doing okay, Bill?” I finally asked, sensing a heaviness about him.
He shrugged. “I guess. I have a lot to talk about on my show. That counts for a lot.”
“And your ratings are through the roof.”
“It’s true.”
I shifted, thinking about all the changes that had happened in such a short amount of time. “Have you looked for another place to stay?”
“I found an apartment I can use until I find something more permanent. I think it will be a good choice. As much as I’d like a big house, I’m not home enough to take care of the maintenance of it. I’ll probably look for a condo eventually. You?”
“Riley and I are going to start looking for a place to rent next week. We need a little more time to save for our down payment before we can buy our own place, you know? We weren’t ready to go here quite yet.”
“Makes sense,” Bill said.
“Chad and I are looking also,” Sierra added, leaning over to join our conversation. “But I’ve got to get through this knee surgery. There’s no way I can move with my knee like this. Thankfully, my friend is out of town for another few weeks and said I can keep using her place, so that will buy me some time. Plus, their house is really nice.”
My heart sagged again. I didn’t want to think about us all moving in different directions. But that was life, and I had to deal with it.
“How’s Tim?” Sierra asked. “I’ve been meaning to ask.”
My heart sagged even more. “He’s going to be locked up for a while. I did go see him in jail. He’s doing okay and is very apologetic now that he’s sobered up. I hope the time behind bars will be good for him.”
“No one blames you, you know,” Bill said.
My heart ached again. “You should.”
“You’re the only one who blames you,” Sierra said. “Your brother made his own choices.”
“Thank you, guys. I appreciate how you’ve been there for me.” I had the best friends. Really. Especially when they weren’t dating a psychopathic ex-model with vengeance on her mind.
“Oh look. Here comes Riley.” Sierra sat up straighter and raised her pom-poms.
It was good she didn’t take that pain medication today. I would have had a hard time deciding what was more entertaining to watch: her or Riley.
I turned my attention to the obstacle course, another flutter of nerves rushing through my stomach.
The timer went off, and Riley rushed into action. He flew across the monkey bars, up the salmon ladder, over some oversized roller thingies, and swung on ropes like Tarzan as he headed toward the timer at the end.
It was truly impressive.
I stood and cheered. “Go, Gabby’s Gibbon!”
�
�That’s terrible,” Bill muttered.
“Rollicking Riley to the end!” I said instead.
“Not any better,” he continued.
“How about this: I love you, Riley Thomas!”
“Those are the words that any man would be happy to hear,” Bill said. “Stick with that one.”
Coming Next:
Stay tuned for the next Squeaky Clean installment: a three-book mini-series called Cold Case Squad. Coming in 2017!
Also by Christy Barritt:
Squeaky Clean Mysteries:
Hazardous Duty (Book 1)
On her way to completing a degree in forensic science, Gabby St. Claire drops out of school and starts her own crime-scene cleaning business. When a routine cleaning job uncovers a murder weapon the police overlooked, she realizes that the wrong person is in jail. But the owner of the weapon is a powerful foe . . . and willing to do anything to keep Gabby quiet. With the help of her new neighbor, Riley Thomas, a man whose life and faith fascinate her, Gabby seeks to find the killer before another murder occurs.
Suspicious Minds (Book 2)
In this smart and suspenseful sequel to Hazardous Duty, crime-scene cleaner Gabby St. Claire finds herself stuck doing mold remediation to pay the bills. Her first day on the job, she uncovers a surprise in the crawlspace of a dilapidated home: Elvis, dead as a doornail and still wearing his blue-suede shoes. How could she possibly keep her nose out of a case like this?
It Came Upon a Midnight Crime (Book 2.5, a Novella)
Someone is intent on destroying the true meaning of Christmas—at least, destroying anything that hints of it. All around crime-scene cleaner Gabby St. Claire’s hometown, anything pointing to Jesus as “the reason for the season” is being sabotaged. The crimes become more twisted as dismembered body parts are found at the vandalisms. Someone is determined to destroy Christmas . . . but Gabby is just as determined to find the Grinch and let peace on earth and goodwill prevail.
Organized Grime (Book 3)
Cunning Attractions: Squeaky Clean Mysteries, Book 12 Page 21
