Christy Barritt - Squeaky Clean 07 - Mucky Streak

by Christy Barritt

  “You were excited about being a dad.”

  “I finally had a reason to live for someone other than myself.”

  “I guess you found your purpose again when you started GCI.”

  He nodded. “The company saved my life. Literally.”

  Against my better instincts, I believed him. Still, I had to trust but verify. Any good investigator would. “Where is Olivia now?”

  “She’s in New York.”

  “I want her contact information.”

  “Of course.”

  I stared at him, contemplating my next move. “If you keep anything else from me, I’m calling the police and telling them you were in town on the night of the murder. And I’m still sending you my bill.”

  Before he could respond, a commotion sounded inside. The doors burst open, a strange smell leaking out as a crowd of people rushed past.

  CHAPTER 22

  “What …?” I looked at Garrett.

  A random stranger must have heard me because he called over his shoulder, “They told us to evacuate. There’s a strong chemical smell in there. Like a pool … only stronger.”

  Screams echoed from the room. I stole a glance inside, over the sea of people flooding out, and saw flames.

  Had someone knocked over a candle? Or was that fire set deliberately?

  “Go outside. Get to safety. Now,” Garrett ordered.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To make sure everyone is okay.”

  Before I could say anything, he ran inside. I stood there, half tempted to be carried away by the crowds and escape to the sidewalk. I knew I couldn’t do that, though. I covered my mouth with my arm and started after Garrett.

  The line between dumb and courageous was sometimes very thin.

  The overwhelming scent of chlorine filled my senses as soon as I stepped inside. My eyes watered; my lungs tightened. Flames from a tablecloth spread to the floor, just as the sprinkler system came on.

  The last few people scrambled out.

  I could hardly see, hardly breathe from the moment I stepped into the conference area. Most of the crowd had cleared, but a fire burned at the stage area. Were there people trapped there?

  I coughed as vapors filled my lungs, but I kept pressing forward.

  Tears streamed from my irritated eyes. I spotted someone passed out on the floor. A table was on top of her. Had it been knocked over in the mad dash for people to evacuate?

  I rushed toward the woman.

  Margo.

  I grabbed the table and tugged. It was wedged on the ground, the edge caught on the stage. It barely budged.

  “Someone! I need help over here!” I yelled.

  Garrett appeared. Grit was smudged across his cheeks and his jacket was torn. Without asking any questions, he grabbed the table and maneuvered it out of the way.

  I glanced at Garrett, saw the determination on his face. Certainly he wasn’t a killer. A killer wouldn’t rush into a burning building to save virtual strangers … would he?

  “Grab her, Gabby!”

  I grabbed Margo under her arms and tugged. Thankfully, she easily pulled out.

  I took one arm, and Garrett took the other. Together, we carried her outside.

  Paramedics rushed toward us and took over.

  Firefighters dashed inside the building. A paramedic put oxygen masks on us. I gulped in the clean air.

  Garrett pulled his mask down for a moment.

  “That was brave of you back there,” Garrett muttered, leaning against a police car.

  “Same for you.”

  “I think we make a good team.”

  “I think we still have a lot more to talk about.”

  “You’re probably right.” He nodded toward an approaching detective. “It looks like we have someone else to talk to first, though.”

  ***

  The tension was thick between Garrett and me as he drove me back to the Paladins’ house. I had reservations about riding with him, but the bullet that had been fired at him while at the house was his saving grace at the moment. I just hoped he wasn’t devious enough to think up that crazy scheme himself as a way of solidifying his innocence in all of this.

  He put the car in park, not at the Paladins’ but at a nice little park overlooking the city. I didn’t feel scared. Not really, but I did remain on guard.

  “What are you thinking, Gabby?”

  “I don’t think that was an accident, despite what the police said.”

  There’d been a chlorine leak from the pool, which was below the convention center. The vapors had traveled up and were strong enough that several people had been sent to the hospital.

  He sighed. “I’m not convinced it was an accident either.”

  “I’m thinking you disappeared for a while at the gala tonight. Disappeared backstage.” Despite that reasoning, I still didn’t think he was a killer. Still, I had to ask the hard questions, or I’d be a fool.

  “Gabby, I always take a moment to do some deep breathing at events like this. It helps me stay cool and in control. I wasn’t tampering with chlorine.”

  I shook my head and stared at the lights of the city ahead. I could see the stadiums, the sparkling skyline, the magnificent bridges. “There are things that don’t make sense.”

  “Talk to me about them. Maybe I can help you figure them out.”

  Where did I even start? “Tell me about these other P.I.s you’ve hired.”

  He leaned back in his seat. “I only knew that one of them had died and I assumed it was because of another case he was working on. Not mine. Then today you told me about Bradley. How many others have there been?”

  “Three.”

  “That’s unfortunate.” His words were tinged with a grim grief. He understood loss. He didn’t dismiss their deaths.

  I appreciated that. But I still had more questions. “Why not the police? The FBI? Why would someone only target P.I.s?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe even better. I have no idea.”

  My thoughts still churned. “Why the chlorine tonight? Why was tonight a threat to someone? This person has already warned me to back off.”

  “His earlier attempts to quiet you didn’t work. But this person is getting desperate.”

  “But then why in a roomful of people?” It was one thing to shoot at a P.I. It was an entirely different thing to try and send a message with a group of innocent people. “Unless it was because you were there too. Maybe this person wanted to send a message.”

  He raked a hand through his hair. “You know what? You’re fired, Gabby. I want you off this case.”

  I jerked my head toward him. “You can’t fire me.”

  “I most certainly can.”

  “Well, I refuse to quit then.”

  “I’m withholding all of your money until you agree to back off.”

  “I’ll hire a lawyer.”

  His head dropped as he swung it back and forth, heavier than a pendulum fit for Big Ben. “Come on, Gabby. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you.”

  “You asked how I keep solving cases? What my secret is? I’m stubborn. That’s my secret. I don’t let things go.”

  “I see.”

  “Someone wants to keep their secret covered up. They’re willing to take some risks in order to ensure that they’re not discovered. The good news is that in their madness, they may just end up giving us more clues. Fear makes people do irrational things, even the most brilliant criminals.”

  His head popped up. “I think you’re pretty brilliant.”

  I would love to bask in his affection and compliments. Losing myself in someone else would be a nice escape. But it couldn’t happen. “Garrett, that kiss shouldn’t have happened. Things are not resolved in my relationship with Riley.”

  “I can respect that. I don’t like it. But being faithful is a good quality to have, Gabby.”

  My throat squeezed. “Thank you.”

  He cranked t
he engine. “I guess I should get you back home.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I guess you should.”

  I kept my gaze focused out the window, wondering why I felt like crying. Allergies, I told myself. That was my story and I was sticking to it.

  “Do you have any tissues? My eyes are probably burning from the chlorine.” Yeah, the chlorine. That was an even better excuse.

  “Try the glove compartment.”

  I opened it and gasped.

  Stuffed into the small space were probably ten different cellphones. Cellphones that someone like the Watcher might have used in order not to be traced.

  CHAPTER 23

  The first thing I did the next morning was to call Olivia, who was now a fashion designer in New York City. I left her a message and three minutes later, she called me back. She sounded terse and suspicious, but that didn’t stop me from asking my questions. I needed answers ASAP because I feared the killer had been under my nose this whole time. I would not be played.

  “Look, I’m investigating the Mercer family murders. Garrett claims you two were together on the night the crime happened. I just need to confirm whether or not it’s true.”

  There was a long pause.

  Finally, she said, “Yes, it is.”

  “When did you leave the cabin?”

  “I don’t know. 10:30 or 11.” She sounded annoyed.

  My back muscles tightened—not because of her bad attitude, but because if what she’d said was true, Garrett would have had enough time to make it back to his house. He may not have an alibi.

  “You and Garrett were dating back then?”

  “We were. That was a long time ago. We’ve spoken maybe three times since that night.”

  “Like when you lost your baby?” I kept my voice soft, knowing the subject could be delicate.

  “Exactly.” She said it like other people talked about getting rid of old clothing. “I told him what had happened, and we could both breathe a little easier and stop fighting about how to handle things.”

  I already didn’t like her. “Olivia, what did you do when you left Garrett that evening? Where did you go?”

  “Home. Where are you going with this? I have a meeting with a team of investors. I really don’t have a lot of time. I was simply curious about what you could possibly want to speak with me about.”

  “Just one more question: Did your dad catch you?” I asked.

  “My dad wasn’t even home when I got there, so you’re going to have to take my word for it. Please don’t tell me you think I killed the Mercers.”

  “No, I don’t. I’m just fact checking. Did you tell the police that your father wasn’t home?”

  She snorted. “No, of course I didn’t implicate him. We both vouched for each other. The police never took it any further.”

  I had nothing else to ask her, and I could tell she didn’t want to talk, so I said thank you and dropped my phone back on the bed. Olivia and Vic Newport had lied for each other. That left me feeling unsettled. That was the thing about liars—it was hard to believe a word coming from their mouths.

  Also, the realization that Vic Newport wasn’t home sent up some red flags in my mind. Where would he have been at that time of night?

  Perhaps my conversation with Olivia didn’t bother me as much as finding those cellphones in Garrett’s car last night. He’d insisted he had no idea how they got there. That he’d been set up. After he dropped me off, he’d gone straight to the police station to report what had happened.

  I wanted to believe him. I really did. But doubts lingered in my mind and I knew I needed to put some space between me and Mr. Rico Suave, as Jamie had called him.

  I hurried through my morning routines and went downstairs, my head nearly ready to explode from information overload. Just as I hit the bottom step, the doorbell rang and I heard familiar voices downstairs.

  “Detective Morrison! What a surprise to see you here,” Holly said.

  “I was hoping I might speak to that P.I. who’s staying with you.”

  “You mean Gabby? Let me see if—” She twirled around and spotted me as I stepped into the foyer. “There you are!”

  I nodded at Morrison. “Good morning, Detective.”

  He wore a fedora and droplets of rain were sprinkled across the rim. “May I have a moment of your time?”

  “More than a moment,” I assured him.

  Holly extended her arm. “Come on in out of the cold.”

  He stepped inside and Holly took his jacket, ever the polite hostess. Droplets of water hit the floor, rolling off his coat.

  “Sit down for a while and let me get you some coffee,” Holly continued. “You need a warm drink on a cold, wet day like today.”

  While Holly hurried off to the kitchen, the detective and I settled in the living room. Detective Morrison perched in an overstuffed red chair, and I lowered myself onto a cheerful, flowered couch across from him.

  “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?” I kept my voice light, trying not to sound pushy. But I couldn’t stand it any longer. Why was he here?

  His weary eyes rested on me. “I heard about the incident last night.”

  “How’d you know I was there when it happened? Did word get around town that fast?”

  He pointed to the newspaper on the table in front of me. “Everyone knows it.”

  A picture of Garrett and me with our arms around Margo, leading her from the hotel had made the front page. It was a very heroic picture, if I said so myself.

  He cleared his throat. “I realized I wasn’t very helpful the first time we spoke. Seeing that picture made me realize how serious you are. How serious this case is. I wanted to offer you any assistance necessary.”

  “I appreciate that.” The man had done a 180. I wasn’t going to complain.

  Holly set down some coffee on the table beside him, along with a plate of homemade cookies. I seriously didn’t know where that woman found the time to bake like that.

  He let out a long breath. “To be honest, not solving this case has not only tarnished my reputation, it’s affected my psyche. I vowed to solve this crime before I retired, and that never happened. I let the people of this city down.”

  “You solved a lot of other crimes, got a lot of other bad guys off the street.”

  He raised a bushy eyebrow. “You been researching me?”

  I shook my head. “No, but the department wouldn’t have kept you as a detective if you didn’t. Besides, I can see that gleam in your eyes. That desire for justice.”

  I recognized the trait in others because I felt the desire so strongly within myself. When I met other likeminded people, I felt an instant connection with them. Maybe that was why I got along so well with Jamie and Holly.

  “I was right about you. You are kind.” He took a sip of his coffee. “So, do you have any more questions for me? I want this guy put away just as much as anyone else. Maybe more.”

  “Maybe I could talk through the case and share what I’ve learned so far. I think I’ve ruled out two of my potential suspects.”

  “Who were they?” Morrison asked.

  “Marty Alvin, Cassidy’s boyfriend. His drug use would make people think he could be guilty, but he was in a—”

  “In a car accident right before the crime occurred. We looked at him,” Morrison confirmed.

  “I also have another suspect.” I hesitated before announcing the next name. “Garrett Mercer.”

  The detective recoiled. “The son?”

  “Correct. Was he a suspect?”

  “Garrett? No, he wasn’t in town.”

  I didn’t want to sell anyone out. I really didn’t. But … “Did you confirm that?”

  The detective set his coffee down on the table. “He was at a party and didn’t come in until morning. Why are you asking?”

  I stared at him a moment, contemplating my words. There was no need to hide things. I wouldn’t lie to protect a potentially guilty man. Besides, I’d told Garrett if h
e lied to me again I would go straight to the police. Detective Morrison was retired which officially made him unofficial.

  “Because Garrett was in town. He was having a rendezvous with a pregnant girlfriend at an undisclosed location.”

  The detective’s eyes narrowed before he slowly shook his head. “Three coeds confirmed he was at that party.”

  “They could have been too drunk to realize what time he left,” I argued. “He made an appearance. Garrett verified that.”

  “Plus, we had camera footage of him at a gas station between the college and his house,” Morrison continued, staring off into the distance.

  “He must have stopped there after meeting with Olivia Newport. He said he drove around for a while.”

  “What would Garrett’s motivation be?” the detective asked.

  “Money. He stood to inherit a lot. That money helped him to start the successful business he has today.” The words left a bitter taste in my mouth. Somewhere along the line, Garrett had begun to feel like a friend, I realized. My loyalties felt torn between justice and friendship.

  But he had an alibi. Supposedly.

  Holly shook her head. “I don’t know Garrett, but he doesn’t seem like the murdering type.”

  “A lot of people who kill don’t,” I told her. “Here’s the other thing: Four of the P.I.s that Garrett has hired have died mysterious deaths, and now someone is after me.”

  I told him about my phone calls with the Watcher, including the cellphones found in Garrett’s car.

  The detective studied me for a moment. “Maybe we could put a tracer on your phone, see if we can pinpoint where those calls are coming from.”

  “I thought about that. But this guy calls me from a different number each time. He’s using a new phone with each contact and disposing of the old one. Plus, the conversations are short. My gut is telling me he knows that he can’t stay on the phone long, just in case.”

  “You may have a point. Have you considered that maybe someone is setting Garrett up?” The detective’s words echoed through the room.

  I shook my head, unsure of anything at the moment. “Or maybe he really is guilty.”

  “He wouldn’t have ruined his own gala,” Holly argued.