“I’m a terrible nurse. I pass out at the sight of blood.”
“Said the crime scene cleaner?”
“Totally different.”
“Good work, you two,” Morrison said.
I looked up at the retired detective. “How’d you know to come here?”
“We cut through the red tape faster than I thought would be possible. Edward Mercer did have an offshore bank account, where he’d been receiving monthly payments from a company called Ryan Enterprises.”
“The company he worked for before coming to Wimbledon?” I mumbled.
“He doctored his resume and made it look like he worked for a consumer product company,” Morrison continued. “That company owns Ryan Enterprises. They were paying him nicely in order to get company secrets from Wimbledon Pharmaceuticals. The account was totally off the books, so there’s no way we would have discovered it, if it hadn’t been for you, Gabby.”
“It was a team effort, on all accounts,” I insisted. “What about Sebastian?”
“We’re looking into him now, trying to figure out if he did anything illegal.”
I watched Lyndsey being led away and shook my head. “She could have had everything, but it wasn’t enough.”
“Money doesn’t buy happiness,” Garrett said. “Certainly you know that.”
“I’ll take justice, humility, and mercy any day.”
“Huh?”
I shook my head. “I’ve just had several reminders about how I need to be sold out for what I believe in. There’s a Bible verse that seems to sum that up nicely for me.”
The paramedics loaded Garrett onto a stretcher and began wheeling him away.
That’s when Holly and Jamie burst into the room.
“What are you doing here?” I asked them.
“Morrison called us and asked where you were,” Holly said. “I figured something was going down. We wanted to be here, just in case you needed us.”
“The MOD Squad always sticks together,” I said.
Holly grinned. “That’s what doing life together is all about.”
CHAPTER 35
I looked at Holly across the table in her kitchen, gratitude filling me. I was so glad that we’d met. She’d reminded me just how sacred life was and how we couldn’t take a moment for granted.
We sipped our tea. Holly had made a lemon pound cake that was to die for, again using one of the recipes from her old cookbooks she’d found at the thrift store that had “the absolutely best recipes ever.”
“Did you hear from Garrett today?”
I nodded. “The hospital released him, and he’s already on his way back to Norfolk. He said he has to clean up the mess at GCI. He’s okay, though.”
“I’m glad.”
“Me too. They found Smith Wimbledon, as well. He’s fine. He was totally clueless and innocent about everything. Lyndsey will be going away for a long time after all she’s done, however.”
“Justice is now served with a side of humility and closure.”
“Thank you for helping me out,” I started. “I couldn’t have done all of this without you.”
“I’m glad I had the chance. I can mark that off my bucket list now. I’ve officially helped to solve a crime.”
My smile faded. “About that bucket list. You plan on saying anything to your family?”
Her lips squeezed together before she shook her head. “No. Not yet. I will, though. I promise. The timing just has to be right. I want Alex’s wedding out of the way and for the election to be past. Then I’ll let them know about my diagnosis.”
“Holly—”
She raised a hand. “I know it’s unconventional. But this is the way I need to do it. For me. I’ll be okay. I promise.”
Finally, I nodded. “Okay, then. I trust you with your decision.”
Just then, my phone rang. It was Chad. We did our general chitchat for a moment, and I updated him on the case.
“You given any more thought to expanding our business?” he asked during a break in our conversation.
“I’m still okay with it.”
“Okay, okay. How about Squeaky Clean?”
I shrugged to myself. “Now, that kind of has a nice ring to it.”
“You think?” The light returned to his voice.
“I do. How about: Squeaky Clean, a Professional Disaster Clean Up Company?”
“Sounds perfect. We’ll talk more when you get back tomorrow. For now, there’s something Sierra can’t wait to tell you.”
“I know who the new owner is.” Sierra’s voice bubbled over the phone line.
“What? Who?” Was I going to have to move? That was really the only question I cared about at the moment. I just couldn’t stand any more upheaval in my life.
“This is the crazy part. Get this. Garrett Mercer bought it.”
“What?” I nearly fell out of my chair.
“It’s true. Our former landlord stopped by today to tell us all the news.”
“Garrett Mercer?” I repeated, still in shock.
“The good news is that we can all live there still.”
I tried to come out of my dazed state. “That’s … that’s great.”
He’d bought the house to help me out, I realized. My heart softened. I couldn’t believe he would do that for me.
You’d never have to worry about money with me again.
Was he trying to manipulate me with this move? Or was he truly being kind? I’d ask him about it the next time we spoke.
“That’s great news, I guess.” Was this the special project he’d been working on when he couldn’t take my call?
“I know. I can’t believe it.”
My next question sobered me. “You seen Riley around?”
Her voice softened. “No, I haven’t. You’ve talked to him, haven’t you?”
“A couple of times. Nothing feels the same.” Just because I had faith that God was ordaining my future didn’t mean I didn’t have the emotions that came with pain and disappointment.
“I’ve been thinking about this a lot, Gabby. Do you remember when your mom got sick? You gave up your education—and essentially your life and your dreams—in order to take care of your father.”
“Those were some hard days.”
“I think Riley realizes how hard that was for you. He knows that you’d do that for him. And I think he wants to see you bloom. He doesn’t want to hold you back. He doesn’t want you to resent him like you did your dad.”
“But he’s different. My dad—”
“I know,” Sierra said softly. “Believe me, I know how your dad is. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that Riley is doing this because he loves you, not because he wants to hurt you.”
Tears washed into my eyes. Her words made sense. Why hadn’t I seen that earlier? Riley knew my history. He knew I would sacrifice everything to be with him … and he wasn’t going to let me do that.
“Thanks for sharing that, Sierra.”
“For the first time, I solved a mystery before you did. The mystery of love,” she added with an exaggerated sigh.
I let out a chuckle. “The one type of mystery I’m horrible at solving. Always have been.”
With uncanny timing, we both started singing “Love’s a Mystery” by The Pretenders before bursting into laugher.
“You know what I’ve realized throughout all of this?” I asked. “Trying to have it all and do it all is impossible. You have to make decisions. Those decisions will show your priorities. And, at the end of your life one day, you’ll figure out if you made the right choice or not.”
“What’s that mean for you, Gabby?”
“It means I have a lot of thinking to do. And it means I need to go call Riley and talk to him. I need to give our relationship more time and let him know I’m there for him. I really think everything else will fall in place. Maybe not now. But with time.”
“I think you’re right, Gabby. Everything will fall in place with time.”
Did you enjoy meeting Holly Anna Paladin and all of her friends? If so, stayed tuned for Random Acts of Murder, Book One in the Holly Anna Paladin Mystery Series, releasing in June 2014.
Keeping reading for an excerpt.
Random Acts of Murder
CHAPTER 1
This had to be the dumbest idea I’d ever had.
Before I could lose my courage, I rushed inside the house, quickly turned the locks, and leaned against the door. I tried to steady my breaths and push away the regret that tried to consume me—regret at my decision to do this.
As I’d been laying in bed over the past week, thinking about my life—or what was left of it, at least—I’d conjured up this crazy idea. In the delirium of a restless night, this whole scheme had seemed brilliant.
But the fact remained that, in order to execute my plan, I’d just broken into someone’s home. I’d utilized the skills my father, a locksmith, had taught me—though I was certain he’d never dreamed I use my skills like this. I’d become a masked vigilant of good deeds—only without the mask.
I pinched the skin between my eyebrows as I tried to rationalize my actions. This wasn’t just a haphazard stranger’s home. And I wasn’t breaking in for nefarious reasons. That was the good news.
This all went back to my new life mantra of engaging in random acts of kindness whenever possible. And not just random acts of kindness. Extreme random acts of kindness. Life was too short to do anything half-heartedly, after all.
To lay it all out, I’d broken into the home of one of my social work clients—but only so I could clean her house and surprise her. I wanted to help. The idea had started innocently enough when I’d sneaked in to clean my brother’s house—a drive-by good deed, as I’d called it. He’d been thrilled, especially when he’d found the nice, anonymous note I’d left, explaining I didn’t want recognition but only wanted to make his day brighter.
Cleaning Katrina’s house would help her and add a touch of quality to her life. I knew it would. She was a single mom, she couldn’t catch a break when it came to getting a decent job, and with a whole gaggle of kids, she barely had time to brush her teeth, nonetheless clean her home.
A clean home could do wonders for a person’s spirit.
I took a deep breath and pushed myself away from the door. I grabbed the bucket of cleaning supplies I’d brought in, my hands trembling so badly that the bottles clattered together inside the tub, and started toward the kitchen. The kitchen and bathroom were two of the areas in a person’s home that usually needed the most attention. That’s why I was planning to start there.
As I forced one foot in front of the other, everything in my gut cried for me to turn around and leave; to forget about this crazy idea before I got in too deep.
But I’d already come this far. My friend Jamie was waiting in her van on the street outside, keeping a lookout for me. She’d let me know if anyone nearby seemed suspicious or if Katrina returned home early. I only hoped that I’d have time to run if Jamie did send an SOS.
Though Jamie had discouraged me from doing this, when she’d realized I wasn’t changing my mind, she’d talked me into coming at night. I knew Katrina worked the evening shift and her kids stayed at a babysitter’s house for bedtime. Plus, darkness was a great cover.
I’d abandoned my normal dress in favor of jeans and a long sleeve T-shirt. I didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to myself in the rundown neighborhood. Pulling up in my vintage Mustang and stepping out with a frilly dress on just wasn’t a smart idea.
I could do this, I told myself, a feeling of false reality washing over me. I’d clean, leave a sweet note explaining I was a friend doing a random act of kindness, and then I’d hop in the van and head home. I was making a big deal out of nothing.
That’s what I told myself at least.
I waited until I was away from the front windows before I turned a light on. Before I’d come inside, I’d put my gloves on. I never cleaned without them. Nothing was less appealing than smelling bleach on your hands three days after the fact. Plus, since I was officially breaking in, the gloves just seemed like a good idea.
I set my bucket on the countertop and looked at the mess around me. Dirty dishes in the sink. Junk on every visible surface—everything from schoolbooks to groceries to toys. There was something splattered on the linoleum floor, crayon marks on the wall, and this morning’s breakfast—at least, I assumed it was from today—was still on the little table in the corner.
The house smelled like it hadn’t been cleaned in a while, a mix of trash that desperately needed to be taken out, rotting food on the plates in the sink, and laundry that had been sitting for too long. I’d noticed that on my last visit here. But the main thing I’d noticed had been the look of hopelessness in Katrina’s eyes. Hopelessness about changing her life, about getting ahead, about catching any breaks. No one should have to feel like that.
As I picked up my first plate, ready to wash it, I realized that I was breeching an uncountable number of professional standards. The good thing was that, even if I was fired from my job as a social worker, it wouldn’t matter.
Two months ago, my job and my reputation would have mattered. Two months ago I’d had a different outlook on life. I’d thought I had forever left.
But sometimes a routine visit to the doctor could change your outlook on life. It made you realize that you could take chances. That life was too short not to take risks.
That’s why I washed the dishes in the sink.
That’s why I collected the trash and placed it by the front door.
That’s why I wiped down the counters and the stove and the refrigerator.
When I stepped back, the whole place looked spotless.
I smiled, feeling satisfied. This had been a good idea. I just had to make peace with myself about the implications of my means. I knew my motives were golden.
Now I just had to do the bathroom. I’d clean the whole house, if I could. I’d wipe the windows, scrub the baseboards, start some laundry. But that would take more time than I had.
I stepped into the hallway, went down two doors, and reached inside the bathroom to flip on the light. Just as my fingers connected with the light switch, I heard a noise.
I froze.
What was that?
I listened but didn’t hear anything else. Had that been movement inside the house? But no one was home. I’d seen Katrina leave with her kids two hours ago. I’d waited until midnight to start my plan of action, though.
Besides, if someone else was here, they would have come out by now. In the very least, they would have called the police.
My heart pounded in my ears.
Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea. The phrase kept repeating in my head.
This was a bad idea, no matter how I tried to paint the hair-brained plan in a positive light.
I had to clean this bathroom, then I was getting out of here.
Gulping in one last breath, my fingers pushed the light switch up.
I blinked at what I saw there.
It was a man. Lying on the floor. Blood pooled around his chest.
He was dead.
No doubt about it—dead.
Look for these other books in the Squeaky Clean series:
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. “Yeah, that’s me,” she says, “a crime scene cleaner. People waiting in line behind me who strike up conversations always regret it.”
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 plays the detective to make sure the right person is put behind bars. Can Riley help her before anot
her 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. But 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. Who would go to such great lengths to dampen the joy and hope of Christ’s birthday? Someone’s determined to destroy Christmas … but Gabby St. Claire is just as determined to find the Grinch and let peace on earth and goodwill to men prevail.
Organized Grime (Book 3)
Gabby St. Claire knows her best friend, Sierra, isn’t guilty of killing three people in what appears to be an eco-terrorist attack. But Sierra has disappeared, her only contact a frantic phone call to Gabby proclaiming that she’s being hunted. Gabby is determined to prove her friend is innocent and to keep her alive. While trying to track down the real perpetrator, Gabby notices a disturbing trend at the crime scenes she’s cleaning, one that ties random crimes together—and points to Sierra as the guilty party. Just what has her friend gotten herself into?
Dirty Deeds (Book 4)
“Promise me one thing. No snooping. Just for one week.”
Gabby St. Claire knows that her fiancé’s request is a simple one that she should be able to honor. After all, Riley’s law school reunion and attorneys’ conference at a hoity-toity resort is a chance for them to get away from the mysteries Gabby often finds herself involved in as a crime scene cleaner. The weeklong trip is a chance for them to be “normal,” a word that leaves a bad taste in Gabby’s mouth.
Christy Barritt - Squeaky Clean 07 - Mucky Streak Page 24
