To Love, Honor, and Perish

by Christy Barritt

  “How long did she work here?”

  “Less than a year.”

  “She was from D.C., correct?”

  He pursed his lips and looked in the distance for a moment. “I believe so.”

  “Did she come down here just for this job?”

  “I believe she told me one other time that she had some unfinished business in the area.”

  My throat burned. “Did she have a boyfriend?”

  His lips pulled back in thought. “Someone did meet her here for lunch a few times. I don’t know if he was a boyfriend or not.”

  Riley? The very idea caused numbness to spread across my chest. “Any idea what she’s been doing since you fired her?”

  “Besides causing me trouble?” He shrugged and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. “No idea. Can’t say I care.”

  “What exactly did she do for you here at Global Coffee?”

  “She worked sales.” He leaned closer. “Why all the interest in this case, Ms. St. Claire? I’m still not sure how you’re connected with this investigation. You’re not with the police, and you’re not claiming to be a P.I.”

  “I have a personal stake.”

  He stared at me another moment before nodding. “I see. How’s Mr. Thomas doing?”

  “Still in a coma,” I responded.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  I nodded. “Me too.”

  His phone buzzed. He pressed a button and his secretary’s voice sounded in the room, informing him his next appointment was here. He thanked her and then turned back to me. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut this short. I’ll answer more questions,” his twinkling gaze caught mine, “but only if you get drinks with me.”

  I licked my lips, flattered yet not. “I don’t drink.”

  “A soda then.”

  I held up my hand. “I’m engaged.”

  “Purely professional, of course. You know, not on work hours so I don’t muddy the waters.”

  I stared at him, trying to size him up. A player? Maybe. Sincerely willing to talk about Juliette? I couldn’t be sure.

  I stood. “I’ll think about it.” I plucked a business card from the holder on his desk. “I’ll be in touch.”

  CHAPTER 10

  On my way out, I spotted the same employee I’d seen last time in the distance, the one who looked familiar. Spontaneously, I leaned against the receptionist’s desk. “I know this is totally inappropriate,” I whispered. “But who is that guy over there? He’s gorgeous.”

  The receptionist smiled. “Him?” She nodded toward the man.

  “He’s the one.” I added a grin.

  “Get in line, Honey. There’s a long waiting list of women who’d like to get a piece of him. Name is Todd Harrison.”

  “Harrison? As in, James Harrison?” Things began clicking in my mind.

  “You mean, the Lord of Crime Ring?” She chuckled. “He’s the one.”

  Great. I could add one more person to my suspect list now. I’d made that family mad as well. Now Todd was working for Garrett. Garrett hated Riley. Juliette worked for Garrett, and Juliette apparently loved Riley.

  How were all of these people connected?

  I thanked the receptionist, went outside, climbed in my van, and shoved my keys into the ignition. As soon as the engine rumbled to life, I flipped on the AC so the fans blew at full strength. My entire body felt hot from the heat and humidity outside, hot enough that I stuck my face right in front of the vents and let cold air sweep over me.

  I didn’t really have a lot more information on the case, except that Juliette seemed to be an outstanding person who loved God so much that she couldn’t stop talking about Him. She was willing to lose her job for her faith. I couldn’t help but compare myself to her.

  I did talk about my faith, just not to everyone I met on the street corner. I felt it was more of a personal thing that I talked to my friends about. Maybe one way wasn’t right and the other wrong. I didn’t know any more.

  Nor did I know why Riley was meeting with her. Was he the man who’d met her for lunch at work? Who’d been to her condo? If so, why hadn’t he mentioned it? Why would Riley sneak around behind my back?

  In the back of my mind, I wondered about Juliette’s judgment in sharing her faith even when her job requirements forbade her. Had she done the right thing? Or was the right thing to respect her boss’s wishes and share her faith when she wasn’t on company hours?

  Part of me was surprised that Riley had agreed to represent her. He was pretty by the book. He liked to stand up for people who were voiceless, but it sounded like Juliette’s problem was that she had too much of a voice.

  I put the van in drive and headed down the interstate toward Virginia Beach. I was going to stop by Juliette’s condo one more time. If she’d found another job, there was a chance she was at work right now. I was going to take the risk. I needed more information on her before drawing any conclusions.

  I parked in the same lot I did yesterday, paid my ten bucks, and made my way up to Juliette’s condo. I pounded on the door and waited.

  Nothing.

  I knocked again and waited.

  Nothing.

  I glanced around. Was there anything I was missing here? Any other way I could find out some more information?

  There was no one else around. No neighbors that I could be inquisitive with. If I were more skilled at picking locks, I might be tempted to do just that. But I wasn’t.

  It looked like another waste of time.

  I went back downstairs and stood on the boardwalk and turned my phone off, not in the mood to talk to anyone. I needed some time alone, so I decided to wander down the beach for a moment.

  I shoved my hands down into the pockets of my jeans and enjoyed the smell of salty ocean water as it rolled over the sand. Seagulls squawked overhead. Tourists lolled past on bicycles or ate ice cream or used one of the city’s showers to rinse off before heading home.

  I remembered Riley and I being here while investigating a dead Elvis impersonator. I remembered eating at a restaurant on the strip where Sierra had freed some crabs and nearly gotten us arrested. I remembered getting baptized in the middle of winter in this water.

  Now here I was questioning everything. Not even a musical could cheer me up from this.

  I sat on a bench for several minutes, staring blankly at everything around me. In the distance, someone blared “Time of Your Life” by Green Day from his radio. The song reminded me of life’s uncertainties and crossroads. The haunting lyrics nearly did me in. Were the best days of my life behind me? It was a possibility I didn’t want to think about.

  Finally, I turned my phone back on and checked my emails, trying to distract myself from the melancholy that threatened to squeeze the life out of me. There were plenty of notes from friends, church members, and even some from clients I’d worked with in the past.

  I paused by one for Trauma Care. I read the email, read Chad’s response, and then I knew exactly what I needed to do to sort out my thoughts.

  ***

  I stepped into the small bungalow of a house with faded beige paint on the wood trim outside. Azaleas, long past their blooming season, were browning in the beds out front. The windows to the house were opened, and I could hear the roar of the air scrub inside the home. I stepped over some extension cords, not bothering to knock at the front door.

  Instead, I paused in the living room where pea green carpet met my feet. I stared at my business partner as he worked a piece of the floor. Chad was a former mortician who’d left behind the demands of the funeral world and turned to crime scene cleaning instead.

  He was a surfer in the summer and loved skiing in the winter. He had the lean build of someone who worked hard, the tanned skin of someone who loved the sun, and the scraggly hair of someone who just didn’t care about what people thought.

  I didn’t say anything, but when Chad caught a glimpse of me out of the corner of his eye he did a double take
. He nearly dropped his saw.

  “Gabby?” Chad paused from cutting out a section of subfloor and gawked at me. “What are you doing here?”

  I grabbed a Hazmat suit. “I need to do something else, to feel normal for a moment. I thought you could use a hand.”

  I heard movement in the adjacent room. The next moment, Clarice burst out of the doorway and came running toward me. The girl was the epitome of a high-maintenance female with perfectly manicured glossy brown hair, fingernails that were always polished and pretty, and she wore designer clothes like some people wore deodorant—all the time. She had never been someone I’d pictured as a crime scene cleaner, but here she was.

  “Gabby!” The college girl threw her arms around me.

  “Hey, girl. How are you?”

  “I’m taking some time off from college this semester.” She shrugged. “Because . . . you know.”

  Because a madman had snatched her. She was probably going through therapy. Maybe on some heavy medication. Definitely having nightmares. “You’re going back to school, though, right? You’ll finish your degree?”

  She nodded, a new somberness about her. “Yeah, this is just temporary.”

  I tapped her glasses. “And those are real glasses?”

  She blushed. “Totally. No hidden cameras this time.”

  “Good girl.”

  “Chad has me scrubbing baseboards again. I think I’ve found my calling.” She frowned comically.

  “Speaking of which,” Chad tapped his watch. “We’ve got another job to do before the end of the day. As much as I hate to break up this little reunion . . .”

  Clarice nodded. “Got it. I’ll talk to you later, Gabby.”

  I continued to suit up, my gaze soaking in the house. A suicide had taken place here, and it wasn’t pretty. Apparently, the man had flown into a rage before taking his own life. He’d had a couple of failed attempts that made the whole scene even more gruesome.

  “You sure you want to be here, Gabby?” Chad asked. “You don’t want to be at the hospital?”

  I let out a slow breath. “It’s complicated.”

  “Any updates?”

  I shook my head. “No, not really.”

  “I still can’t wrap my mind around why anyone would do this to Riley.” He stroked his soul patch and shook his head. “It’s messed up.”

  “Messed up is right. That’s the question of the week. The year. Of my life, for that matter.”

  “Any leads?”

  “No good ones.” I snapped my gloves on and pulled some goggles over my eyes. Then I grabbed some cleaner and began scrubbing the walls. The splatter on this plaster could almost pass for modern wall art. But only if you were sick and twisted. Or Gabby St. Claire.

  Chad began to spackle some stray bullet holes. “I know you really wanted to keep working for the medical examiner, but I’m really glad to have you back here, Gabby. When all of this settles down, I have a proposition for you.”

  I continued to scrub, curious but deciding to wait on Chad’s timing to learn about this “proposition” of his. The rhythmic motion of wiping and scrubbing somehow brought me a certain measure of comfort. “This is the first scene we’ve worked together since my career at the medical examiner came crashing down, isn’t it?”

  “Crashing down is a slight exaggeration. They would have kept you there if it hadn’t been for those money issues.”

  I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. We make a good team.”

  “Don’t forget me!” Clarice yelled from the next room.

  Chad and I shared a smile.

  “You too, Clarice,” I yelled back.

  Chad took measurements so he could replace the section of floor. He was much better at stuff like that than I was, which was just one more reason we worked well together. I was not exactly a handyman, but I was pretty amazing when it came to getting bloodstains out of carpet.

  “You hear from Kansas yet?”

  I grimaced. “I didn’t get the job.”

  He paused. “What? Are they crazy?”

  “They chose someone with more education.”

  “Education over experience? I’m not sure I agree.”

  I wiped a hair from my eye, using my forearm. “It’s weird. I mean, I knew I wasn’t going to take the job, even if they did offer it to me. But still, it would have been a nice little attaboy for my self-confidence to at least have the opportunity to turn it down, you know?”

  “Maybe the Big Guy Upstairs knew you’d have your hands full here, you know?”

  I resisted a sigh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

  “So, moving on to another subject. Who are your suspects? I know you have some. I know the way your mind works.” He jotted down some numbers using his hand for a notebook.

  “All I have are a lot of guesses.” Too many guesses. Nothing concrete. Nothing even close to being a real lead.

  “Tell me about your guesses then.”

  I rocked back and rested on my heels for a moment. With the windows open and the humidity outside, on top of wearing the Hazmat suit, it was hot in the house. I could feel the sweat beading on my forehead.

  “Originally, I thought this could be tied in to a client Riley was representing,” I started. “Apparently, there’s this woman who used to work for Global Coffee, and she’s suing her boss for firing her. The boss came storming into Riley’s office a couple of weeks ago, trying to convince Riley to drop the case.”

  “I think I heard about that lady on the news!” Clarice yelled. “She sounded dogmatic. That’s my word of the week, by the way.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. Clarice tried to learn a new word every week. The girl came across as an airhead—okay, she acted like an airhead most of the time—but deep down inside, she was likable and funny and smart.

  “Why was she fired?” Chad asked.

  “She kept trying to convert people while she was on the job, even though she was asked to stop. She’s claiming discrimination and a violation of her First Amendment rights.”

  Chad squeezed his shoulders up. “I don’t know. I might be on the side of the boss in this one. It’s kind of like if your boss says you can’t smoke or cuss on the job. You have to respect those wishes.”

  I grabbed a clean rag and wiped my forehead. “I agree. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with sharing your faith, but the time has to be right. I’m sure this woman—her name is Juliette—would probably say that her boss is a Jewish carpenter and she doesn’t have any time to waste in sharing the good news. I can appreciate her passion. It even makes me feel a little guilty, truth be told.”

  “I don’t know, shouldn’t your actions speak louder than your words?” Chad asked. “I mean, what good is it if you’re talking about Jesus, but you’re never acting in obedience?”

  I tilted my head. “I’m impressed. I take you to church a few Sundays, and you already know that much?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, something like that. Anyway, we’re getting off topic. Tell me about your suspects.”

  I rewound my thoughts until they got back to the case. I quickly reviewed the people I’d already either questioned or considered. “At first, I thought maybe the person who shot Riley was this guy who’d stormed into his office. His name is Garrett Mercer. I talked to Garrett, and I honestly don’t think he’d pull the trigger. He’s too slick.”

  “Slick people can be killers. Slipping into an office, pulling the trigger and disappearing without a trace is pretty slick.” Chad wiped his forehead with the edge of his T-shirt.

  “I can’t argue that. I also considered maybe his client, Juliette, was guilty.”

  His hands went to his hips. “Why would you think that? Why would she shoot her own lawyer?”

  Tension pulled at my shoulders. “Apparently, Riley and Juliette knew each other before all of this happened. I don’t know how. Riley never mentioned it.”

  Chad’s eyes widened. “Uh oh. He’s going to be in trouble when he gets out of this coma, isn�
�t he?”

  I smiled again, and I knew it was a good choice to come here. Chad could always get my mind off of life’s burdens. So could crime scene cleaning. “Yeah, he’s going to have some explaining to do.”

  He grabbed a piece of wood, ready to patch the house. That meant we needed to wrap up this conversation because it was really hard to talk with a saw screaming between us. “But there’s still the question of why this woman would shoot her own lawyer?”

  “It’s like this. I can find no history of this woman before the past two months. No one has seen her for the past week, so she’s either on vacation or she skipped town.”

  He started toward the front door, where his table saw was set up. “Okay, it sounds like you need more information before you can draw any conclusions.”

  I stood and followed him, ready to get out of the house for a moment. The place seemed to be trapping heat. “Exactly. But it’s been a lot harder to find that information than I thought it would.”

  “My Auntie Sharon says the best things in life are the things that don’t always come easy!” Clarice added her wisdom from out the front window. Apparently, she could hear everything we were saying, even with the air scrub on.

  I paused by the front door. “Sharon’s a wise woman.” Except when it came to men. Then Sharon was totally wrong.

  “Who else?” Chad asked from the lawn.

  I leaned against the porch railing, trying to settle in for the conversation. Any other time, I would push myself to work. But today I needed to cut myself some slack. “The person who did this was either a.) a random freak who walked in off the street. I have a hard time thinking that’s the case, though. If this person isn’t random, then that means that b.) it’s someone who’s mad at Riley or c.) someone who’s possibly mad at me.”

  Chad set up the wood on his saw and began making measurements. “But no one has claimed anything? No one has left any notes or hints of who they are or why they did it?”

  “No. Nothing.”

  He shook his head, pulling his safety goggles on. “Who could want to make Riley pay?”