His gaze darkened. “I know that looks bad. But here’s the other thing I forgot to mention. I had an alibi that evening. I got into a car accident coming from a party about twenty minutes before the crime occurred.”
***
As we were walking to the car—and before I even had a chance to rehash the conversation with Holly—my cellphone screamed for help from inside my purse. I really had to change that ringtone.
The number had the same area code as the Pittsburgh P.I. Could he be calling me from a different phone, maybe to give me an update? A girl could only hope.
I answered. “This is Gabby.”
“This is Detective Larson with the Pittsburgh Police Department. I’m calling about Bradley Perkins.”
I slowed my steps. “Okay.”
“Would you mind giving me your name, ma’am?”
I had my hesitations about giving out my name. But if this man really was a detective, there was a good chance he already knew my name. “My name is Gabby St. Claire.”
“Ms. St. Claire, did you know Mr. Perkins?”
“No, sir. I’d only spoken with him yesterday.” Where was this going? If my gut was right, it wasn’t any place good.
“May I ask about the nature of the call?” the detective asked.
“Certainly. Mr. Perkins was a P.I. He worked a case that I’ve currently been hired to work. I called to pick his brain on information he may have discovered in his investigation.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and climbed into the Mustang.
“So, you’re a private investigator?”
“I’m new to the scene, but yes, I am.”
“Where are you now, ma’am?”
“I’m in Cincinnati. If you don’t mind me asking, what’s with all of these questions? I didn’t exploit any confidentiality issues when I spoke with Mr. Perkins. I simply asked a few questions.”
“Mr. Perkins was found murdered this morning. We’re looking into everyone who was in contact with him in the days before he died. Yours was the last number on his cellphone.”
“Murdered? Are you sure?”
“A bullet through the head doesn’t lie.”
I closed my eyes and froze. “That’s terrible.”
And it was the same way the Mercer family had died.
Coincidence? I couldn’t be sure.
But my gut told me no.
“Did he mention anything suspect to you?”
I replayed our conversation. “He said he was meeting with someone later that day. A reporter was my impression. He was apparently being paid to talk about the murder of the Mercer family.”
Puzzle pieces began fitting together. What if that meeting was just a ploy to kill him? But why? Why would someone kill Bradley Perkins?
After I hung up, I turned to Holly. “The plot thickens.”
***
“What are we doing?” Holly asked as we pulled up to Rolling Hills Country Club.
I stared at the building in front of me. “It’s like this. Sebastian borrowed a substantial amount of money from Edward Mercer before he died. Apparently, the two of them had a misunderstanding as far as the terms of the so-called loan.”
“How much are you talking?”
“Ten million.”
“That’s a lot of moolah.”
“Maybe enough moolah to kill over. Maybe enough moolah that the killer is desperate not to be discovered, which might happen if investigators started following the moolah.”
“So, why are we here, though?”
I tapped my fingers on the armrest. “I’m contemplating confronting Sebastian.”
“That sounds like a terrible idea. If your theory is right, he’s a dangerous man.”
“I’m out of ideas. At this point, Sebastian is my best lead.”
“We shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves. I don’t think confrontation is the best idea at this point. Is there any other way you can find out information on this Sebastian guy?”
Just then, I spotted a familiar face emerging from the doors of the country club. It looked like I’d just hit the jackpot. “That’s his assistant.”
“And …”
“Let’s follow him.”
Casually, we pulled out behind his truck. I remained a couple of car lengths behind him until he pulled to a stop at The Crusher’s office and batting cages. “Stay low,” I whispered to Holly as we got out of the car.
Kevin scurried inside. We stayed a safe distance behind him and watched as he disappeared into a locker room.
“Look like we belong here!” I urged.
Holly nodded and picked up the first thing she saw on the shelf. She crossed her eyes as she examined it. “What is this? Some kind of protective breathing equipment?”
She put it over her face and took a deep breath. “Luke, I am your fath—”
I swatted her hand down.
“What?” she asked.
“Holly, do you know what this is?”
“Obviously it’s not a mask fit for Darth Vader.”
“It’s an athletic cup.”
She still looked puzzled.
I leaned closer. “A jock strap.”
Her cheeks reddened and she calmly placed it back on the shelf.
Just then, Kevin emerged wearing exercise clothes. I knew where he was headed.
I turned toward Holly. “You up for hitting some baseballs?”
She raised her eyebrows. “I can’t say I’m much of an athlete unless you count Zumba.”
“Works for me.”
***
We walked to the desk against the far wall and inquired about using the cages. Though the man eyed us suspiciously—could it have anything to do with Holly’s dress?—he instructed us on how to buy tokens and how they would pay for a certain number of balls.
I couldn’t help but smile. Yes, we’d be a sight to see out there. But sometimes a girl had to do what a girl had to do.
I ignored the strange looks a few people gave us as we wandered outside. Act like you knew what you were doing. That’s what I always said.
We found our assigned stall, slipped inside, and I handed Holly a bat. Apparently, you were supposed to bring your own, but there were a couple of extras on hand for situations like this.
“Why am I doing this instead of you?” she asked, readjusting her helmet.
“I need to be free to chase down this Kevin guy and ask questions if I need to. You don’t mind, do you?”
“I’m the one who just put a jock strap on my face. If I can survive that humiliation, I suppose I can survive this.”
“Thanks for being such a good … sport.”
Anyone else would have scowled. Holly laughed.
“Life is too short to care what people think of you.” She raised her bat. “So let’s get this party started.”
I dropped some tokens into the machine beside me and then heard a motor start up. A moment later, the first ball flew toward us, and Holly screamed when it almost hit her shoulder.
I had to cover my mouth to keep from smiling. She’d just gotten in place to hit again when another ball came flying toward her. She ducked, sending the ball flying into the net behind the stall.
The people on either side of us stopped to stare.
That’s when I saw Sebastian’s assistant turn toward us. He was still behind the cages, swinging the bat, and warming up.
His gaze lingered on Holly, and I waved him over, seizing the opportunity while I could. The man strode over. “Anything I can help you with, ladies?”
“Is this thing working correctly?” I asked. “The balls are coming awfully fast.”
“You can slow down the speed.”
Holly screamed again as a ball flew her way. The man grinned, looking amused and perplexed at the same time.
“How about if I give you a hand?” he offered.
“That would be wonderful.” I nodded back toward Holly and lowered my voice. “She has delusional dreams of going pro.”
“Really?” he
asked.
I shook my head. “No, she actually has to play … for a work assignment.” Work being my investigation. “You know how those things go sometimes? Team exercise building and such.” If Holly and I counted as a team, that was.
He nodded, seeming to buy my story. His gaze latched on to me for a moment. “Do I know you?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I just have one of those faces.”
He nodded, apparently satisfied. “You mind if I come inside?”
“Please do.”
He looked Holly up and down. Approval tinged his gaze. “First of all, next time you come, you’ve got to dress to play baseball.”
“But this dress is so cute.” Holly’s eyes twinkled.
She was playing an airhead. I had to somehow thank her for this in the near future. Maybe with pie and coffee.
“Cute will get you nowhere in baseball. Hitting the ball will. Now, you’ve got to swing it like this.” Kevin, in a textbook flirtatious move, put his arms around Holly and helped her move the bat in a smooth motion.
I had to cover my smile.
“Swing just like that. Keep your movements controlled, purposeful. And don’t scream. The ball won’t hurt you.”
Just then, the ball hit her shoulder. “Ouch! It does hurt.”
“You’ve got to keep your eye on the ball. Take out any pent up aggression on it. But always remain in charge of your actions. That discipline will make you stronger.”
I leaned against the fence. “You must come here a lot.”
“Every day.”
“Does that mean you have a lot of pent up anger you need to get out?” I ventured.
He helped Holly hit the ball, and she squealed in delight.
“I might have some frustrations. Who doesn’t? Coming here helps on a multitude of levels.”
I crossed my arms casually, hoping not to appear too anxious. “What do you do for a living anyway? And I never did catch your name.”
“Kevin, and I’m the executive assistant to the CEO of a company.”
“Sounds cushy,” Holly said, swinging again but missing.
“Not so much. I feel like a glorified servant most of the time.”
“Why not quit?” I asked.
“Long history, I suppose. I started working for this guy right out of college. I was an intern, actually. He was a practical nobody back then. He kept me on, and I was grateful for the job. Every time I want to quit, he seems to sense it and gets all nice. He’ll give me a raise, a bonus, a comp vacation.”
“Comp vacation? Maybe I’ll apply to work for him. Is he hiring? Cleaning just doesn’t pay what it used to.”
“Beats me. I know he hires people to do everything for him. Wouldn’t surprise me if he hired someone to wipe his mouth after he finished eating.” He chuckled, low and dopey, at his own joke. “You’d have to ask him.”
I wondered if that included hiring someone to assassinate people for him.
“So, why are you so frustrated then?”
He swung the bat with Holly, more forcefully this time. “You’d have to meet the man to understand.”
Oh, I could understand perfectly.
The machine ran out of balls, and Holly straightened. I could see the relief on her face. “That went by quickly.”
Kevin winked. “I’ve got this one for you.”
He ran a card through the machine and balls started flying again.
“Between the three of us, I actually work for the competition. This store’s competition, I mean. I get a strange satisfaction out of coming here.”
“Oh, aren’t you sneaky?” Holly said. She’d drawn the short straw and gotten the role of dingbat. But she had the acting thing down pat.
“I’m sneaky, and I’m free for the next three days.” He raised his hands in victory. “Speaking of which, here’s my number. Maybe we can get together.”
Holly raised her eyebrows and slipped the business card into her sweater. “Thanks.”
“Why are you free for the next three days?” I asked.
“My boss just left yesterday to take a tour of some of his stores in Pennsylvania.”
My heart nearly stopped. Now that was a curveball I hadn’t been expecting. “Pennsylvania. I’ve got some relatives there. What part?”
He shrugged. “Beats me. I think he’s stopping in Pittsburgh then Philly.”
Pittsburgh? That couldn’t be a coincidence … could it?
Despite what Holly might think, we’d just batted a thousand.
But we still had more bases to cover in this next inning.
Holly hit the ball, squealing in delight.
“There you go!” Kevin cheered.
She hit another ball.
“Looks like a lucky streak.”
A lucky streak? I wished I could say the same for my life.
CHAPTER 18
I straightened up the knee length black dress that Holly had let me borrow. A sheer, sparkly layer of black flared overtop the sheath underneath. I sucked in my stomach and stared in the mirror.
Not bad. In fact, I kind of felt like a million bucks at the moment.
Holly let out a wolf whistle. “You look fabulous, darling. Simply fabulous.” She leaned against the wall, her arms crossed. She’d helped me with my hair and makeup. For a moment, I’d felt like I was getting ready for the prom. Hopefully tonight would be better than my actual prom, an event that had ended with my date throwing up all over the dress I’d worked hard to purchase myself.
“Thanks.”
“And you look nervous.” She studied my face a little too closely.
“I get to network. I’m not great at doing that.” It was the truth.
“So, this isn’t about Garrett?”
“Garrett?” I scoffed. I turned in the mirror for another view of my hair. Holly had done a great job smoothing it out and adding soft curls. “No, it’s not about Garrett.”
She crossed her arms. “You’re attracted to him, aren’t you?”
“My relationship with Riley isn’t over, even if it feels like it is. I’m not the cheating type.”
“That’s good. Just stay on guard.”
My gaze jerked to her. “What does that mean?”
She shrugged. “Just figure out your relationships before making any big changes.”
She was obviously reading more into this than I was.
But she had some good points.
“How’d you get so smart, Holly?”
She blew out an imaginary puff of smoke. “It’s elementary, my dear. Elementary.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“I assure you that this meeting is purely professional. He wants to introduce me to someone who might have a job opening in forensics. This is networking, and that’s it.”
“Well, knock ‘em dead, girl.”
I sucked in a long breath, smoothed my dress with one hand, and gripped my clutch with the other. “I’ll do my best.”
Just then, the doorbell rang. Holly rushed downstairs. By the time I got there, the front door was open and the limo driver stood there. Garrett had called an hour ago and explained he had to be at the gala early for sound check. He’d apologized profusely and asked if it was okay to send a limo.
I gripped my purse and stepped outside. The driver opened the door. He seemed pretty nondescript at first—tall, uniform-clad, with a driver’s cap over his eyes—until I noticed his goatee and wire-framed glasses.
“Ms. St. Claire.” He extended his hand to usher me into the back.
Several people on the sidewalk paused and watched as I got inside. For a moment, I felt like a celebrity. As I slipped inside and the driver shut the door, a rush of excitement fluttered through me. Whenever I felt a touch of my old self return, I treasured it. There were many parts of my old self that I just wanted to disappear. But the spunky part, the sassy part, I was ready for that to return.
My bad luck streak had gone on for too long now. It reminded me of a crime sce
ne Chad and I had cleaned once. A dimwitted burglar had poured motor oil all over the inside of a home and tried to light it on fire after stealing the TVs and other valuables while the family was on vacation. Since the flashpoint was high enough for the oil to ignite, the home ended up with these horrible—mucky—streaks all over the place. The homeowner hadn’t wanted to get rid of the carpet because it was expensive and fairly new. So Chad and I had tried everything under the sun to get that oil up, nearly losing our minds in the process.
Though my life often felt like those impossible to remove mucky streaks, talking with Holly and hearing her story had reminded me about how fragile our time here on this earth was. I had to stop feeling sorry for myself, and I had to make the most of each moment.
Besides, I didn’t believe in luck. Despite my circumstances and what felt, at times, like misfortune, I believed in God’s providence and hard work. I clung to John 9:3—This happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him. Throughout all of this, I had to believe that everything that happened was for a purpose.
We wound through the streets of Cincinnati. I sat back and tried to relax.
Then my cellphone rang. Thanks to Clarice, I knew exactly who the call was from without even looking at my phone. It was “The Happy Working Song” from Enchanted. That meant it was Chad.
He bypassed formalities and launched straight into, “How about Dirtbusters?”
“What?”
“Our new name.”
I twisted my lips in thought. “I don’t love it.”
“Alright. It was just a thought.”
“Keep thinking. Anything else new? Any updates on the apartments?” I stared outside as the buildings of downtown blurred past.
“Not yet. We’ll let you know as soon as we know anything. Okay, I gotta run. Clarice says hi.”
We hung up, and a prick of curiosity crept up my spine. I stared out the window. We’d gravitated from the business part of downtown to a rough looking area. An area with graffiti on walls and trash on the streets and groups of people on corners.
Why would Garrett be attending a gala in an area of town like this?
Flashbacks of my last case began pummeling me. I’d almost died. I didn’t know if I’d ever get over it.
Christy Barritt - Squeaky Clean 07 - Mucky Streak Page 14
