Clean Getaway (Squeaky Clean Mysteries Book 13)

by Christy Barritt

  “Anyway,” he continued. “When Ron and Margie were murdered, we took a DNA sample from various people to rule out other variables at the crime scene. We took Jessie’s in that process.”

  “Okay.” I had a feeling he had big news, and I couldn’t wait to hear it.

  Even though I was supposed to drop this investigation.

  I’d think about that later.

  “The DNA of the hair in that bag belonged to a man. It shared certain markers with Jessie.”

  “What’s that mean?” I asked, trying to piece together what he was saying.

  “It means, that the DNA belonged to Jessie’s father.”

  “You mean, Ron Simmons? Why would Margie have her husband’s hair?”

  “That’s what I’m getting at. It wasn’t her husband’s hair, Gabby.”

  But that meant . . . someone else was Jessie’s father.

  And the plot thickened.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Just as I hung up, Talmadge knocked on the wall behind me—there wasn’t a door—to get my attention.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said. “I wanted to thank you for being so understanding. This has all been very hard on Jessie.”

  My mind still reeled after my conversation with the detective, but I tried to focus and not raise any suspicions. “It’s no problem.”

  He stared at me another moment. “Everything okay?”

  I nodded, probably a little too quickly. “Yes, everything is fine.”

  He squinted. “You look shaken.”

  “It was just . . .” What did I tell him? He wanted me to drop this, and I didn’t want to tell him that it wouldn’t be that easy. “Some new evidence came to light. I’m not at liberty to say what it is yet.”

  His gaze remained on me. Would he scold me for saying that? Fuss at me for the fact I hadn’t totally dropped this yet? I didn’t know.

  “It must be big,” he said.

  I nodded. “It is.”

  “Thanks again for understanding about dropping this.”

  I nodded again, unsure what else to say right now. I just wanted to escape so I could think more about what Hanson had told me. Thankfully, I spotted Evie and Sherman trudging down the steps. They were the perfect reasons for me to slip away before Talmadge asked too many questions.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” I said.

  “Of course.”

  I quickly intercepted them and nodded upstairs. “We need to talk,” I whispered.

  They followed me up to my room. I made myself wait until the door was closed before I spilled the news, ending with, “Ron wasn’t Jessie’s father.”

  “Who does this even leave?” Evie asked, plopping in the armchair, looking as stunned as I felt. “Dewey and Jarrod have alibis. I’m unsure if Detective Hanson would have called us with this news if he’d been guilty.”

  “I’m inclined to agree with that,” I said.

  “How about Mark Miller?” Sherman asked. “It’s a possibility that he drove up here, did the crime, and immediately returned to South Carolina. Unlikely, but possible.”

  “Margie liked to date around when she was young,” I said. “Apparently, she cheated on Ron. Maybe when he was out to sea.”

  “That’s what it sounds like,” Evie said.

  I dropped down on the edge of the bed, feeling more excited than a traveler about to leave for a dream vacation. “Do you realize how big this is, guys? The news could devastate Jessie. But it could also lead to a killer.”

  “I’m not sure that keeping the truth from her is the kind thing either,” Evie added.

  I nibbled on my lip as I remembered my conversation with the family this morning. I hated feeling so conflicted. Maybe I should do Rochambeau to figure out the right choice.

  Instead, I addressed my friends. “What should we do? The family asked us to drop this.”

  “We definitely have to get out of their home,” Evie said. “That’s a no-brainer.”

  “What time does your flight leave?” I asked.

  She glanced at her watch. “Not until this evening. I need to leave for the airport at five.”

  “So it’s either we figure this out now or never.” Blood rushed to my ears as my mental clock kept ticking.

  “I’m unsure how we can figure this out.” Sherman leaned against the wall and put his hands on his hips. “I doubt anyone is willingly going to give any DNA samples.”

  Something nagged at the back of my mind. “We’re missing something, guys. I can feel it.”

  “What are you thinking?” Evie asked.

  “I think that Jessie’s real father discovered that Jessie was his,” I said, silencing my other thoughts until all I could picture was this crime. “I think Margie was scrambling to keep that news from Ron. She was willing to pay someone to keep the news silent.”

  “Why would she have a hair sample?” Sherman asked.

  “Maybe she wanted to prove this man really was Jessie’s father,” I said. “Make sure he really had a leg to stand on before her life was potentially turned upside down.”

  “Someone told us that Margie and Ron reconnected while she was in nursing school and he was in the military, right?” Sherman said.

  “That’s right,” I said.

  “I think you’re on to something, Gabby.” Evie crossed and uncrossed her legs, the same look in her eyes that I imagined was in mine—hyper focus. “While he was stationed overseas, she must have met someone else.”

  “Or reconnected with someone,” I added.

  “That person had a boat,” Sherman said. “Maybe Ron and Margie ran into him that evening while they were at dinner.”

  “Maybe he forced them on the boat,” Evie said. “Maybe it was the only way to get them to talk.”

  I closed my eyes, picturing the scene playing out. “And things turned heated. He and Margie argued. He shot her and then Ron.”

  Silence hung in the room a moment.

  “How do we prove any of this?” Evie’s gaze bounced from Sherman to me. “We’ve got great information, but how do we figure out who that person is?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not sure. But I know we need to get out of this house. This news could devastate Jessie, and I don’t want to do that. We also need cold hard proof before we voice this out loud to anyone. Are we in agreement?”

  “Absolutely.” Evie nodded.

  Sherman held up his hands in the Boy Scout pledge. “Undeniably.”

  “Let’s get packed up and get out of here then,” I said.

  But even as I said those words, I had a sneaking suspicion as to who was guilty. I replayed everything I knew, everything I’d learned—both the answers I’d sought out and what I’d observed.

  And the answer boiled down to that photo album Jessie had shown me yesterday. Why hadn’t I seen it earlier?

  Now I had a theory.

  I just had to figure out how to prove it.

  All three of us parked our cars in downtown Cape Charles and consolidated into mine.

  “I have a plan,” I announced before we set out.

  “Where are we going?” Evie asked.

  “To look at a boat.”

  “A boat?” Sherman asked, pulling on his seatbelt.

  “That’s right,” I said. “It’s a long shot, but I hope I might know where the boat is that Bobby mentioned. I just confirmed a few things online, and I have an inkling where it might be.”

  “The intergalactic boat with a star on the bow?” Sherman asked.

  “That’s the one.”

  “We’re down to our last hours, so I hope you’re right.” Evie gave me a knowing look.

  This time, I wasn’t annoyed, though.

  I headed down the road, through the woods, and down a gravel lane that led even deeper into the woods.

  “You’re not taking us to the area where the Exorcism was shot again, are you?” Evie asked.

  “Not this time.” I hoped this paid off. If not, we were going to be out of luck.


  Finally we reached some waterfront property. An old fishing shack sat in the middle of the property. Beyond it was a dilapidated garage that had been painted light blue at one time. Now most of the siding was crooked or cracked, not to mention faded. Half of the shingles were gone.

  Sherman peered through the windshield. “Where are we?”

  “At an old house,” I said.

  “We can see that.” Evie gave me another look.

  “We’re at the place where my hunch has lead through the intricate process of thoroughling it,” I muttered.

  “This is no time to be cute.”

  My grin slipped. “I know that. I think if I voice my theory out loud, it will automatically not be true.” I knew how I sounded and regretted it, but I didn’t have time to deal with it right now. “I just need to lay my eyes on this first.”

  “Sounds awfully superstitious to a girl who’s supposed to act on faith,” Evie said.

  I scowled at her words but ignored the impulse to deny the truth in them. She could be right.

  But we were here, and we’d have an answer soon.

  I hoped.

  I hopped out of the car and rushed toward the garage. A swell of nerves rose in me. I’d put all my bets on this hunch, and I hoped it paid off.

  Drawing in a deep breath, I tugged at the old, wooden garage door. It didn’t budge.

  Daggonit!

  “There’s got to be another way to get in,” I muttered, giving it one more tug for good measure. It was definitely locked up.

  I rushed around to the other side of the building, Evie and Sherman on my heels. Another door waited there. I tugged on it to no avail.

  “What do you want to do now?” Evie asked.

  In frustration, I kicked the handle.

  My foot caught the knob. To my shock, it fell to the concrete below.

  “No way,” Evie said. “If you’d planned that, it never would have happened.”

  “You’re not going to get any argument from me.”

  I shoved the rest of the brass lock, and it hit the floor on the other side with a clang.

  Sherman and Evie were right behind me as I shoved open the door. Though it was daylight outside, the inside of the garage was still dark and unsettling. I grabbed my cell phone and pulled up the flashlight there so we could see more clearly. The light sliced through the dusty air.

  The beam stopped on a boat. A large one that consumed most of the space.

  An old, dry cover stretched over it.

  “Let’s get this off,” I said, anticipation tingling inside me.

  Sherman went to the other side of the boat and helped me pull the cover off. With every tug, more dust filled my lungs.

  Something—a mouse, probably—scampered in the distance as Evie supervised us.

  “I think I know where this is going,” she muttered. “I hope you’re right.”

  A Carolina Skiff waited beneath the cover. The boat was in much better shape than the cover. In fact, there was some seaweed clinging to the bottom of it. It was still fresh and only partly dried, making me think this seaweed was from a recent boat trip. Maybe on the night I was first here.

  I walked down the side of it, observing every inch I passed.

  I stopped at the end.

  There on the bow was a star.

  Not the intergalactic kind.

  It was a picture of a star. Actually, there was a golf ball in the middle and the “star” was the impact of a putter hitting it and sending it into the air.

  “Well, I’ll be,” Evie said. “I should have never doubted you.”

  “That’s what I keep trying to tell you,” I reminded her with a smile.

  “This is the boat Bobby was talking about,” Sherman muttered, running a hand across the side. “He wasn’t crazy.”

  I touched the star. “No, he wasn’t. This is the boat that Ron and Margie were last seen on.”

  “Who does it belong to?” Evie asked. “I can’t stand the suspense.”

  “This real estate was purchased with the intention of being an investment property,” I said, wishing I’d put it together earlier. “Then the market tanked.”

  “That still doesn’t tell us who the killer is.” Evie tapped her foot impatiently.

  “Sure it does,” I started. “The killer is—”

  Before I could finish, a shadow filled the doorway and a gun clicked.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Talmadge Banks stepped into the garage, a gun in his hands. “I have to admit: I didn’t think you would solve this. I saw you and figured you would come, ask some questions, and leave without any answers.”

  “People underestimate me quite frequently.” I took a step back, purposefully placing myself between Talmadge and my friends. I’d gotten them into this. I couldn’t let them get hurt.

  Had he followed us here?

  “That’s obviously a mistake on their part.” Sweat sprinkled across Talmadge’s forehead, and his breaths came quickly. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. You’ve got to believe me.”

  “What happened?” I continued to slowly back away from the Smith and Wesson in his hands, desperately aware of my every move as well as Talmadge’s.

  “I moved back to this area to design the golf course,” he said. “I hadn’t seen Ron and Margie in years. But the minute I saw Jessie, I knew she was mine.”

  “How’s that?” My throat tightened as my mind raced through possible scenarios. My gun was in my purse, but Talmadge would see me if I tried to grab it. I also had no way of calling the police.

  We were in trouble.

  “She looked just like me. I did the math.”

  “So you had an affair with Margie,” Evie muttered.

  His eyes squeezed shut, but only for a minute. “It wasn’t supposed to happen. But she was lonely. And Carol was up shopping in New York City with her friends, spending money and thinking about herself. The honeymoon period in our marriage ended quickly.”

  “So you and Margie were both lonely, and you cheated on your spouses together,” I said.

  His eyelids pressed together, and he rubbed his sweaty forehead. “We weren’t proud of it. It was just once. We agreed to never talk about it again and to pretend it didn’t happen.”

  “You were the boy who came between Margie and Carol, weren’t you?” I said.

  He nodded. “They were both interested in me. I chose Carol. She didn’t leave me much choice, to be honest. She was very persuasive. But I’d always liked Margie, and she’d always kind of liked me.”

  “But when you saw you had a daughter, you couldn’t deny the truth,” I mumbled.

  He frowned, his hand trembling, including his trigger-ready index finger. “Carol never wanted kids. I did. She won. So when I found out I did have a child . . . and that child was as lovely as Jessie . . . I knew I had to be a part of her life.”

  “Margie wasn’t in favor of that,” I said. “She didn’t want anything to do with you, and she tried to pay you off. You’re ballandchain@zmail.com.”

  He laughed—quick and sarcastic. “You’re clever. She thought Ron would leave her if he found out. She didn’t want to risk breaking up her perfect family.”

  “So you confronted Margie with what you knew?” Evie nodded, as if the pieces were clicking in place in her mind. She popped out from behind me, looking unaffected by that gun.

  “That’s right,” Talmadge said. “We ran into each other in the store, and I asked her to meet with me. One day while Ron was working out in the bay and Margie was supposed to get groceries, we met right here. No one really knows about this property except Carol and Jessie. We’ve been sitting on it for years, and I knew no one would see us. I told Margie I knew the truth.”

  “What happened on the night of the murder?” My gaze remained locked on his gun, and I prayed he didn’t accidentally pull the trigger.

  “I ran into Margie and Ron while I was out in this boat. I never took this boat out. I don’t even like water that mu
ch. But I needed to think, and this seemed like a good way to do that. I was going to tell Ron the truth.”

  “What happened next?” Sherman asked.

  “Margie panicked.” He shook his head back and forth, sweat now trickling down his forehead. “She suggested we all go out on the boat. I pulled to a stop on the pier so we could talk. When I did, Margie found the gun I kept in the spare compartment. She pointed it at me and told me I needed to keep my mouth shut.”

  That was unexpected—I hadn’t seen it coming. “What happened then?”

  “Ron got mad.” Talmadge ran a hand over his face, his breaths growing more shallow—more desperate—by the moment. “He started to get argumentative. He said he was going to take Jessie and leave her. She didn’t like that. Before I knew what was happening, she turned the gun toward him and shot him.”

  My heart pounded in my ears. Margie had shot Ron? No one was going to come between her and her daughter. But her choices had led to the ultimate separation: death.

  The police hadn’t suspected it because any evidence of that gunshot residue would have been carried away in the water, I suspected.

  “I tried to grab her gun. We got into a fight and the trigger went off. I realized that Margie had been shot.” His voice cracked, and his face squeezed with pain. “I knew how it would look. I also knew that Jessie would never look at me the same if she knew what had happened. So I tried to cover up the crime. I stuck this boat here, hoping no one had seen it that evening. Then I hurried home. Carol slept through it all. She never even knew I was gone.”

  The whole story came into focus as details clicked into place.

  “What about their truck?” I asked. “How did it end up on the side of the road?”

  “I panicked. I went back into town late that night. No one was around. I had their keys—they fell out of Ron’s pocket. I wanted to cover my tracks so I moved their truck and left it on the side of the road, hoping to throw the police off. It worked. I walked back to my car and drove home.” He swung his head back and forth, his features pinched with grief. “It wasn’t the smartest thing I could have done. But you never know how you’re going to react when you’re faced with a single decision that could change your future forever.”