“Understood.” I pulled out my pad of questions, so I could take notes.
“Got your notepad, huh?” He looked amused and maybe even skeptical.
I offered a half shrug. “I left my trench coat and magnifying glass in the car.”
He stared at me for a moment then a chuckle emerged, growing until it became a full out laugh. “I like that.” He rubbed his cheek. “That’s a good one.”
A moment of relief filled me. Maybe I’d gained his trust. For once, my smart mouth had worked in my favor.
His smile dipped, and he reached into his wallet and opened it. He slid something across the table to me.
A picture of the Mercer family.
“This case haunts me every day. I try to let it go, but it’s hard.”
“I can’t imagine,” I offered.
“It’s like this. Everyone thinks they can find something I missed, ride in like a knight on a white horse and save the day by solving the case.” He shook his head and leaned back in his chair. “Look, I welcome someone else to solve this case. I do. It’s not that I’m being prideful. I couldn’t sleep for years when I thought about what had happened to that family. I even had a new alarm system put into my own house because I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to have something like that happen to my own family.”
I had a feeling he felt like a failure when it came to this case. The community had been counting on him to put a killer behind bars and it hadn’t happened. Law enforcement could be like that, taking on the burden of unnecessary guilt. I could spot that disease a mile away, mostly because I struggled with it myself.
“I’m not going to pretend to be a genius. I’m not. Nor am I going to pretend like I think I can solve this,” I started. “Garrett Mercer hired me, so I’m going to give it my best shot. The fact is that we’re all in this together, whether we want to be or not.” Great, I’d taken to quoting musicals without even trying. I hoped the detective didn’t notice the High School Musical reference, and think of me as young and immature. The singsong inflection I’d added wouldn’t help my case.
The former detective drew in a long, deep breath before meeting my eyes again. “The person who did this needs to be found. They need to pay for the damage of their actions. The crime was horrific. No one should get away with an offense like that.”
“I agree. You were the original detective on the case?”
He nodded. “I was. Of course, I had other detectives help out. The FBI got involved. Even when they took over, I couldn’t stop looking for answers.”
“What was your gut reaction to the case?”
He sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Whoever did the crime was someone with a mission. They knew what had to be done. There was planning involved. The whole family was home—minus Garrett. But it was unusual for the family to all be in the same place. All of their lives went in different directions, kind of like bystanders fleeing from ground zero. They may have been a family, but it was in blood only.”
“What do you mean?”
“Elizabeth and Edward looked like a picture perfect couple in photos. But their marriage was a turbulent one.”
“Sad.” Garrett had mentioned something about his dad being unfaithful.
“Too often a reality.” He shook his head. “Anyway, even the daughter seemed to be something of a lone ranger. She was involved with clubs at school and hung out with her friends. My impression was, after interrogating people close to the family, that her parents didn’t parent very much. They were too caught up in themselves.”
“I suppose even when you look at the crime scene, you saw a little of that, right? The dad was watching TV, the mom was in the kitchen, the daughter was in her room upstairs.”
The detective nodded. “Exactly. I doubt the daughter even heard anything happen downstairs. Her radio was blaring.”
“Is there anyone you’d wished you’d investigated, but that you didn’t have a chance or means to pursue?”
He shook his head. “If I had even an inkling that someone might have been involved, I questioned them. If I had even a hint that someone wasn’t telling the truth, I re-questioned them. As far as I’m concerned, I left no stone unturned.”
“I see. What about Arnold James, the man who committed an eerily similar crime out in Missouri?”
“He didn’t do it. The thing about most killers—killers like Arnold, who’s a true psychopath in my opinion—is that they want people to know who they are, to discover them. They’re twisted like that. They want the fame that being a murderer brings. If Arnold had done it, he would have owned up to it. Besides that, there’s the logistics. He was seen in Missouri on the morning the Mercer family was killed. There’s little chance he could have made it here in time, especially when you consider the planning that went into this crime.” He shook his head. “There’s just no way.”
“What about the man who did the tile work inside their house? I know he passed away, but do you really think he was innocent?” I finished the last bite of my chili, my stomach full and satisfied.
Detective Morrison sucked in a long breath. “He was my best lead. I really thought he could have done it. He even had a criminal history of abuse, but we could never prove anything. His wife claimed that he was at home that night. We tested his hands for gunpowder, his clothes for blood. There was nothing.”
“Just one more question. About Edward Mercer. I’ve heard rumors of his liaisons. Did you talk to the women he was involved with?”
He nodded. “All of the ones we could round up. More and more kept coming out of the woodwork. Believe me—we thoroughly questioned each of them. We came up with nothing.” He wiped his mouth. “The truth is that all of the people you just mentioned were our best guesses. The problem is that the whole case felt like a guessing game, and that’s the shame in it all. No one should get away with murder.”
“I agree.”
He finished his food and glanced at his watch. “Hour’s up. I don’t feel like I helped.”
I wasn’t sure if he had either. But at least I had a feel for the case from his perspective. “Thank you for your time. I’ve got the check.”
He waved goodbye to Holly and then left.
This was going to be a harder case than I thought, and I wondered if I should call Garrett right now and tell him I was going back home and forget about it. I had to give it a little more time, though. Just a little more time.
CHAPTER 6
As I was paying my bill, a shrill yell sounded from my purse. “Help! Get me out of here! It’s so dark. Someone, save me … !” The voice was tinny and almost cartoon-like.
Holly looked at me, her eyes wide with alarm. “What is that?”
I smiled sheepishly as I reached into my purse and pulled out my cell. I held it up. “My friend Clarice not only put together my playlist for me, but she also programmed the ringtones on my phone before I left. She thought it would make me laugh, and I haven’t figured out how to change it yet.”
“Funny. I think I like this Clarice.”
I glanced at the screen, knowing it wasn’t Riley. Clarice had programmed his ringtone as “That’s Amore.”
I didn’t recognize the number, but I answered anyway. “Hello?”
Silence stretched on the other line, first irritating me then raising my suspicions.
“Hello?” I repeated.
I was about to hang up when—
“Stay away from this one,” a gravely voice rumbled through the phone line.
I froze, wishing with all of my might that the man was talking about the restaurant. I knew better. “What?”
“Drop your investigation.”
Tension pulled at my muscles. I finished paying, excused myself, and stepped onto the sidewalk, wanting both privacy and a chance to see what was going on around me. “Why would I do that?”
“Some things are best left buried.”
My eyes scanned my surroundings. Old buildings with graffiti and chipped br
icks and sprinkles of litter surrounded me. Storefronts, many abandoned based on the outdated, crooked signs, were on the lower level of the three or four story buildings. Apartments were over many of them, several with AC units in the windows and sheets covering the glass.
Nothing stood out to me, though. No one, I should say.
“I think justice is always best when it’s alive and well,” I ventured.
“Some skeletons weren’t meant to come out of the closet.”
A shiver crawled up my spine. “Who is this? The same person who slashed my tires?”
“Most people call me the Watcher.”
My throat tightened at the ominous name. “Who assigned you as guardian over this case?”
“That’s not important.”
“I’d say it is.”
“Stop looking for me. You won’t find me.”
The air froze in my lungs. Despite that, I continued to scan the buildings around me, looking for a sign of someone. But everyone seemed engaged, moving. Not watching, waiting.
“Maybe we could meet sometime and talk about this.” Riley would have told me that was the dumbest idea ever. Sadness pressed down on my heart at the thought. The emotion quickly dispersed though as my adrenaline took over all of my senses.
“That won’t be necessary. But consider this a warning.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. “And if I keep investigating?”
“You don’t want to find out. That is all.” The line went dead.
My gaze swept the area one more time. Still nothing. I hurried toward the corner.
A movement in the rundown apartments there caught my eye. I moved closer, the third story window of a grungy yellow building never leaving my sight. Had the curtain moved? I couldn’t be sure.
I stepped nearer.
A car horn blared. I nearly jumped out of my skin. My gaze skittered to a black sedan. The woman behind the wheel had her hands raised in the air, as if asking me what I was doing.
If only she knew.
I waved an apology and started back toward the restaurant. It looked like things were getting interesting. Very interesting.
***
I stepped back into the chili joint, convinced that if I died in the near future, it would be death by a car. I’d had two too many close calls lately.
Holly stuck a chocolate mint in her mouth and waved me over. “Everything okay? You look like you saw a ghost.”
“Something like that.” I grabbed my coat and told her about the call as we walked out to the car.
She gasped. “That’s terrible. And strange. I mean, who would do that?”
“Someone involved in the crime, I suppose. But what I can’t come to terms with is how they know I’m investigating. It’s not like I’m closing in on someone. Whoever made that phone call has no reason to scare me. Yet he’s trying to.”
“I suppose the question is ‘why’ then? They must see you as a risk somehow.”
I shook my head. “I guess.”
She pulled her cute little purse up higher on her shoulder. “Listen, I’m free for the afternoon. Anywhere you want to go? I know the area pretty well. I’d be happy to take you.”
“I would actually love that. Norfolk is tiny compared to this place.” I looked down at my paper. “I need to go to 123 Birmingham St. Know where that is?”
“I can find out fast.” She tapped something into her phone, studied the screen for a moment, and then nodded. “I know exactly how to get there. Want to go now?”
“Why not?” I might as well jump in.
A moment later, we were in Holly’s baby blue, vintage Mustang. In my rush this morning, I hadn’t really taken it in. I’d been too preoccupied with my slashed tires and trying to formulate what I was going to ask the detective. I definitely hadn’t commented on it. “Nice ride.”
“I know, right? I love all things old.” She backed out of the parking lot, and we started down the streets of Cincinnati.
“Old cars, dresses that could have been popular in the fifties, recipes from a bygone era. I’m seeing a pattern here.” I assumed the dresses were probably designer pieces.
She touched the hem of the pale yellow dress she wore. “This old thing? I do love my dresses. I find them at thrift stores.”
My opinion of her went up a few more notches.
We cruised down the city streets for a moment, and I absorbed the urban life around me. I loved the character of Cincinnati. The buildings and streets all seemed to tell stories of the past, of the history of the area.
I really needed to get out more, I decided then and there. There was so much of the world—of the United States—that I hadn’t seen. My circumstances had always limited my travel. I hadn’t even realized that I wanted to travel until this moment. Growing up, I’d gone to North Carolina to see some relatives a couple of times. In college, my friends and I had gone down to Florida for spring break. That was it.
“I can’t believe Chad is married now.” Holly’s voice cut into my thoughts. “He seemed really happy last time I talked to him. I can’t wait to meet his wife.”
I smiled when I thought about Chad and Sierra. “They both seem really happy. An odd match, but they work together.” I glanced her way. “Are you two close?”
“I feel like he’s my brother, even though we never see each other anymore. I really admire him. Not many people give up an established career and a steady paycheck to follow their dreams. His mother nearly flipped when she heard his plans. My mother did flip.”
I liked Holly already. Despite her overly girly appearance, she seemed down to earth and friendly, not stuck up like I first thought she might be. Plus, she was a social worker. The job wasn’t exactly prestigious. Most people did it because they were concerned about the well being of others. I could admire that.
“It does take some courage. He paved the way for me. My family thought I was crazy to become a social worker. Said I couldn’t support myself or make a comfortable life on that salary. But it’s what I wanted to do.”
“Life is too short to live for someone else’s dreams, isn’t it?” I was pretty sure there was a country song about that.
Holly frowned. “You’re absolutely right. We have to make the most of the time we’ve been given. And it wasn’t that my family doesn’t think social work is noble; they were okay with me helping people in need. They just wanted me to be able to take care of myself in the process.”
We drove for about thirty minutes, Holly giving me a quick tour by pointing out buildings, stadiums, bridges and colleges. We finally pulled away from the busy interstate and the crowded streets. Trees became more prevalent. To my right was a glorious view of the Ohio River. We climbed through the hills and finally Holly slowed and pulled down a long drive marked DEAD END.
Appropriate, I couldn’t help but think.
The car climbed up the winding lane until the woods ended and a huge mansion appeared.
Holly braked. “Whoa. What a place.”
“You’re right about that.” I knew Garrett had come from privilege, but wow. This was a one-percenter kind of home. Gray bricks comprised the exterior. Huge columns surrounded the front door in a circular colonnade. A black, iron fence could be seen in the backyard and maybe even a tennis court.
As Holly put the car in park, I stepped out. The day was brisk already, but on this hill, the wind was particularly biting. I pulled my leather jacket closer and stepped toward the house. There were no cars in the driveway, but the place looked well kept.
I glanced at Holly as she joined me. “What are the chances the current homeowners would let us take a tour?” I asked.
“As someone who knocks on people’s doors for a living, I’m going to have to say they’re not great. Not great at all.”
I frowned. “Yeah, my thoughts, too. I wonder who lives here now.” The place was still well cared for. The grass—even though it was cool outside as winter approached—was neat. The bushes were clipped. The trim looked freshly p
ainted.
Suddenly, a woman came running from the woods.
I sucked in a breath before I spotted her fuchsia sweat suit and ear buds. A jogger, I realized. Just a jogger. She stopped in her tracks when she spotted us.
Her hand went over her heart before she plucked out her earphones. Based on her fine wrinkles, the woman was probably in her early fifties, but her slim build added a hint of youthfulness. “I had no idea someone was here. I nearly wet myself.”
And I nearly snorted. But I didn’t. Score one for me.
“We weren’t trying to trespass,” Holly started. “A friend of Gabby’s used to own this house.”
Her gaze fell on me. “Is that right? It’s been a long time since anyone’s lived here.”
“How long?” I asked.
“Well, the Mercer family still owns this place. The son refuses to sell. Wants to hang onto it, for some reason.”
“But it looks so taken care of. And Garrett doesn’t live around here.” Not that I could see him doing the maintenance work himself.
“A caretaker comes out a few times a week to keep everything up. That’s about it. Occasionally, a news crew will come to film an update—which is weird, considering there really aren’t any updates.” She shook her head. “Honestly, it’s probably better that this house doesn’t go on the market. Who would want to live where such a tragedy occurred?”
I remembered the case I’d last worked. I remembered the people I’d come across who were fascinated with murder. They’d even sold mementos from crime scenes and serial killers. Any one of them would love to live at a place with a past like this. It was disturbing.
“Did you know the family?” I asked.
She nodded. “Not well. They hadn’t lived here long and they primarily kept to themselves. But when something like this happens, you just feel close to people, you know? Even though I didn’t know them, I mourned for their deaths. No one deserves to die that way.” The woman seemed to think twice about everything she was saying. “You said you were friends with … who?”
Christy Barritt - Squeaky Clean 07 - Mucky Streak Page 5
