Christy Barritt - Squeaky Clean 07 - Mucky Streak

by Christy Barritt

  “For reasons you’ll never understand.” He almost sounded defeated.

  “If you tell me, I will.”

  “I’m not the one pulling the strings here. None of this is my choice. But now I’m a scapegoat. You need to tell Garrett that no one close to him is safe.”

  My lungs tightened. I glanced at Garrett and saw his eyebrows furrowed together in worry.

  “Why hurt innocent people?” I asked.

  “It’s complicated. And it doesn’t matter. Whatever happens, the police will think everything is my fault.”

  This guy seemed to be having some kind of break down or crisis of conscience. He sounded like he wanted out but was trapped.

  “I can tell them it wasn’t.”

  “It’s too late for all of that.” Silence stretched again. “You remind me of my mom, you know. She’s the reason I ever got involved. I had to help her.”

  “Your mom, huh?” I straightened, feeling like we were getting somewhere.

  “She has hair like yours. It’s red and curly.”

  “I think it’s wise that you’re honoring your mom, then.” I was oh-so-grateful to have red hair at the moment. It was actually a lifesaver. I never thought I’d think that. “Why target P.I.s and not the police? Can you tell me that?”

  While he was opening up, maybe I could get more information out of him.

  “For years, no one connected the P.I.s. They were expendable. I had to … I had to take care of my mom. If I go to prison, she’ll have no one.”

  “But people would have noticed a pattern if you’d killed the police officers.” I nodded. That made sense, in a twisted kind of way, at least. “Why not stay in hiding?”

  “My isolation is being threatened. That urged me to action. He keeps trying to pull me back in. I keep telling him I can’t do it.”

  “Who’s he?”

  “He’s—” Something rattled in the background. “What the … ?”

  “What’s going on?” I asked, against my better judgment.

  “Hold on a second.”

  Hold on a second? What kind of psycho mass murderer said things like that?

  Over the phone line, I heard something rattle. Then, I heard a clatter, almost as if the phone had dropped to the floor.

  “You? You were the one behind this all of this time?” the Watcher mumbled. His voice sounded far off and muted. “What are you doing here?”

  Then I clearly heard a gunshot.

  The silence afterward had my blood curdling.

  CHAPTER 31

  Garrett and I were up for most of the night. Thankfully, he had a never-ending supply of coffee at the cabin. We both probably downed ten cups. We were living both on caffeine and adrenaline and the reckless hope that the answers were in our grasp.

  After the phone call, we’d alerted both the police and Morrison. Two detectives, three officers, and Detective Morrison had shown up at Garrett’s cabin. We’d had no choice but to explain everything, including the fact that someone had been murdered while I heard it all over the phone.

  The Watcher had been murdered.

  This case just continued to get more and more twisted.

  Yes, the noose was tightening and the stakes were becoming more deadly by the minute.

  Since I hadn’t hung up the phone and neither had the Watcher, the police were attempting to trace the call. Maybe we had a chance.

  I didn’t know what had happened, but I had a feeling the Watcher really was dead.

  But who would have killed him? Had there been another person pulling the strings? Working with him? Had this other person decided the Watcher was too much of a risk and expendable?

  Nothing made sense at the moment.

  At 3 a.m., the detectives thought they’d successfully traced the number and they were closing in on a location.

  By 6 a.m., we got the news that the police had discovered a body.

  There was an unsigned suicide note, but I knew this man’s death was no suicide. In his supposed note, he’d owned up to the Mercer family murders. Said he was rejected by Cassidy. That didn’t match what he’d told me, though. He’d said he was a scapegoat.

  The police had found his phone. He must have dropped it and it had been kicked under the couch. The killer probably hadn’t known it was there.

  What the police were still trying to figure out was who the man was. He had no identification on him. His truck was stolen. The house where he’d been wasn’t his; he’d broken in while the owners vacationed down in Florida for the winter.

  By 8 a.m., one of the lead detectives came back. He held up a picture and showed Garrett and me. “You recognize this man?”

  As soon as I saw the picture, I gasped. “That’s the caterer. He was at the gala on Friday. He’s the one I saw whispering to Smith Wimbledon.”

  How had I not recognized him? Then I remembered that the driver of the limo had a goatee and glasses, as well as a hat pulled over his eyes. When he’d confronted me in the back of the vehicle, he’d donned a mask, as well. When I’d seen the man in his catering uniform in the alley, he’d changed clothes and ditched the facial hair. He hadn’t looked a bit familiar.

  I’d thought the man was trying to warn Smith about me and the supposed drugs I’d been doing. But what if the two were just conspiring about the murder?

  Garrett peered over my shoulder. “I know him from somewhere else.” Suddenly, he squeezed his eyes shut. “I know where now. He was Reginald Jr. Wimbledon’s nephew. I think his name was Skip. His mother has been in a mental hospital for years, so this guy would come on vacations with the Wimbledons. He was from Reginald Wimbledon Jr.’s wife’s side of the family, and they weren’t wealthy. He was treated like a black sheep and always kind of an outsider.”

  The Silent One. Skip was the Silent One.

  The detective jotted down everything. “Anything else you can think of?”

  Garrett pinched the skin between his eyes. “How could I have not seen this? One summer, there was a chlorine incident at the indoor pool while we were on vacation. I haven’t thought of it in years. We were at a resort, and a woman died from inhaling too much of the chlorine fumes when the tanks were improperly installed. I didn’t know the woman; I just remember it was a tragedy. I can’t imagine what it would have to do with this case, though.”

  “Anything else you can remember about Skip?” I asked.

  “I’m pretty sure he joined the army after high school. I never saw him again after that.”

  The detective’s jaw hardened. “I hope to have some answers soon. In the meantime, you two are free to go. I’ll need you guys to keep this quiet for a while. No media leaks, not until we know more.”

  “No problem here.”

  Then I remembered Jamie’s meeting at Wimbledon today. We needed to cancel. But if I suggested that, Jamie would know that something was going on.

  I knew I should feel relief at the start of a resolution to the case, but I didn’t. There was still something I was missing.

  Someone had shot that man.

  The questions were: Who and why?

  ***

  Garrett dropped me off at the Paladins’ and decided to head back to his apartment, just in case the police needed him for anything.

  Without saying too much, I’d explained to Holly that there had been a development in the case that I was ordered not to talk about. Before I could call Jamie, she showed up. But from the way she stood with excitement dancing in her eyes, something was up. She charged inside. “My interview was canceled.”

  Holly and I glanced at each other before following after her. She went straight for the kitchen and began pacing.

  “Did they say why it was canceled?” I asked.

  “They didn’t say anything, but thanks to my police scanner, I know the scoop.” A satisfied smile stretched across her face.

  I crossed my arms. “What’s going on?”

  “Smith Wimbledon is missing.”

  My mouth dropped open. “What?”<
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  She nodded. “It’s true. He never showed up at work today and his family said he’s been gone since last night.”

  Had he disappeared to elude police? Or had the same person who’d taken out the Watcher taken out Smith, as well? I really wished I could share more details with Holly and Jamie, but I couldn’t.

  “The police are looking for him now,” Jamie continued. “In the meantime, I decided to do a stakeout yesterday.”

  “A stakeout?” Had I heard her correctly? This girl was hardcore.

  She nodded, as if it were no big deal. “I knew you were all wrapped up in Garrett Mercer.”

  “Busy investigating with him. Wrapped up has a different connotation,” I corrected.

  “And Holly was resting. So I went by myself.”

  “Did you find out anything?” I questioned.

  “Interestingly enough, Vic Newport went to Smith Wimbledon’s place at eleven last night. He looked rather anxious.”

  I blinked with surprise. “Is that right?”

  Jamie nodded. “He left after an hour and then he drove around on some back roads for what felt like hours. A little past midnight, I lost him. I don’t know where he went.”

  “You didn’t see him leave with anyone, right? Smith didn’t leave with him?” I asked.

  “No, Smith didn’t leave with him,” Jamie said. “But something’s going on.”

  My thoughts exactly. Just what had Vic Newport been doing last night? Had he found Skip and killed him?

  Just then, the doorbell rang.

  “Someone’s supposed to deliver some papers for my mom,” Holly explained.

  “You look tired,” I told her. “I’ll answer for you.”

  When I pulled the door open, I spotted Vic Newport standing on the porch, sweat sprinkling his forehead.

  Where was my gun when I needed it?

  CHAPTER 32

  “Mr. Newport.” I took a step back. “What are you doing here?”

  “We need to talk.” His words sounded clipped, tight.

  “This isn’t a great time.”

  “Please. It’s important.” He stepped inside the house. I tried to push the door closed, but it was no use. His foot was there. His shoulders were wedged in the opening. “I know you’re investigating me.”

  I tried to remain calm. “Why would you think that?”

  He suddenly released his hands as if the handle had caught fire. He raised his arms in the air. “Look, I’m not trying to hurt you. I just want to talk. Please.”

  “How’d you know where I was?”

  His face pinched. “I know you followed me last night.”

  I stared at him, contemplating his sincerity. I didn’t trust him in the house, so I shook my head.

  “We talk here. You on the porch, me and my girls inside the house.” I held up my phone. “With 911 on speed dial.”

  “Fine.” He wiped his brow.

  I considered slamming the door and locking it. The other part of me wanted to hear what he had to say. I pulled the door open so that Holly and Jamie could hear—and to let him know that I wasn’t alone.

  “I didn’t kill the Mercer family,” Vic Newport started.

  “I didn’t think you did.”

  His breathing slowed for a moment. “You didn’t?”

  I shook my head. “No, I think you possibly hired someone to do the deed for you.”

  His face reddened again. “You’ve got to believe me. I’m innocent.”

  “Prove it. Because right now you’ve got the motive, the means, and the opportunity.”

  “It’s true that I did think he was having an affair with my wife. But he wasn’t. I thought about going to the house that evening. I thought about confronting him and demanding that he tell me the truth.”

  “Did you?”

  He shook his head. “No, I felt like I was coming unhinged. I was trying to get a grip, so I drove around some. I decided to swing by the cabin the Mercers owned. I figured that would be a given rendezvous spot. My wife was out for the night, and I thought she and Edward could be together.”

  “The cabin?” I questioned.

  He nodded. “I pulled up and saw two cars there. I crept closer, hoping to catch them in the act. Instead, I saw my daughter and Garrett Mercer there. They were arguing.”

  “Because Olivia was pregnant.”

  He nodded and rubbed his forehead again. “That’s right. I thought it would be one bombshell and it was another. I decided to go to my favorite bar and drink away my troubles instead.”

  I wasn’t buying his story that easily. “Did you ever think about confronting Garrett?”

  “Absolutely. But then his family died and Olivia lost the baby.”

  “She told you she lost the baby?” I’d figured she’d kept it all quiet.

  He shook his head. “By all definitions, I suppose she had a miscarriage. But I found her in the bathroom. She’d taken some drugs. A lot of drugs. She’s never told me, but I knew she did it to end the pregnancy. I rushed her to the hospital. We never told Garrett that part. There was never a need to. He already had enough going on.”

  I believed him. But while he was here, I had some other questions for him. “Where’d you go last night?”

  “I thought I was going to get fired. I went to talk to Smith. The conversation didn’t go well, so I drove around afterward. That’s the truth. I promise.”

  “Fired over what?”

  He let out a long breath. “Smith Wimbledon is a figurehead. He knows nothing about business. In a moment of weakness, I told him that. I regretted it afterward. I knew I could get fired, and I didn’t want that to happen. I’ve been at the company for a long time.”

  Maybe that was the tension I’d felt between the two of them at the meeting that day.

  “Who is the woman in this picture?” Jamie shoved her laptop his way. The online photo of him giving the strange look to the woman beside him.

  He studied the picture a moment. “Her? That’s Winnie Wimbledon. Smith’s sister.”

  “Why are you giving her such a strange look?” I asked.

  “She’s different. Just kind of off beat. She made some kind of comment before the photo was taken, and I remember thinking about how strange she was. Of course, you have to act like you like her because she’s the boss’s sister.”

  “Does she work for Wimbledon Pharmaceuticals?” Holly asked.

  “She’s in and out. She’s been mostly out of town lately. Probably having more plastic surgeries.”

  “Has she had a lot?” I asked.

  He rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t even recognize her. She has a different nose. She’s lost weight, has different hair, different style. What does this have to do with anything?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not sure yet. If I have any more questions, can I contact you?”

  “Please do. I want to find this murderer just as much as anyone else.” He started to walk away but stopped. “There is one other thing that could be worth mentioning.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Another P.I. called me the other day. It’s probably nothing, but it seems a little strange.”

  “What did he say?”

  “His name was Bradley Perkins. He was asking about one of the drugs that we discontinued before it went on the market.”

  ***

  I headed over to the penthouse where Garrett was staying, hoping if the two of us put our heads together, we might figure out some answers. Holly and Jamie wanted to come, but I knew Garrett and I couldn’t speak freely if they were there. I promised to give them updates as soon as I knew something.

  As I drove, I chewed on what Vic Newport had told me. Bradley Perkins had been asking him about a drug they’d almost released at Wimbledon, but pulled off the market at the last minute. I also reflected on Smith Wimbledon’s disappearance, Vic Newport’s late night trip, and Reginald Wimbledon’s nephew being the Watcher. Put all of this together, and what did it mean? I wish I knew.

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nbsp; I picked up some Chinese food. Garrett looked tired when he met me at the door. Had something else happened?

  “What’s going on?” I slid past him and set the food on the table.

  “No one has talked to Lyndsey since yesterday.” He leaned against the breakfast bar, his arms crossed.

  “She didn’t make it back to Norfolk?”

  He let out a sigh. “No one there has seen her. Someone at the company called this morning to say she hadn’t come in. I made some calls, and she’s gone.”

  I sucked in a breath as a chill rushed down my spine. “You think the person who killed the Watcher got to Lyndsey, too.”

  He nodded. “He did say that no one around me was safe.”

  “Maybe she’s just taking some time off. She did work this weekend.”

  “She’s usually very dependable. I’m hoping she’s just having an irresponsible moment and that this psycho hasn’t somehow gotten ahold of her.” He shook his head. “I probably sound paranoid, but there are just too many crazy things happening lately.”

  “Crazy’s one way to put it. Did you call the police?” I started doling out food onto some paper plates I’d picked up at the restaurant.

  “I did. A Detective Adams is supposed to be looking into it.”

  I shoved some plasticware into the mounds of fried rice and pushed a plate toward Garrett. “I know Adams. He’s a good guy. If anyone can get to the bottom of this, it’s Adams.”

  “That’s reassuring.” He let out another sigh before picking up his fork, only to immediately put it back down. “Anything new on your end?”

  I gave him an update on my visit with Vic Newport, ending with the information about Perkins calling to inquire about a certain drug.

  “Does that drug thing ring any bells?”

  “Honestly, I wouldn’t know. My dad didn’t talk about it. I didn’t ask.” He finally took a half-hearted bite of his lunch.

  “That has to be why Perkins died.”

  “I can’t disagree, but I don’t have any answers for you. Your phone call to Perkins must have triggered something in him. He followed up, and …” Garrett shook his head. “I don’t like where this is all going.”