Christy Barritt - Squeaky Clean 08 - Foul Play

by Christy Barritt

  “I know. That’s why you can come as my bodyguard.”

  This time I did snort at the ludicrous idea. I fully expected Garrett to follow suit. He didn’t.

  I quickly sobered. “You’re serious?”

  He nodded. “You’ve saved my life before, Gabby. You’re observant. You can handle yourself in tense situations.”

  Maybe Garrett didn’t know me that well because I’d handled myself very poorly in some very sticky situations before. Should I burst his bubble? I decided not to, at least not completely.

  “I don’t know, Garrett. That may have simply been dumb luck in the past.”

  His gaze didn’t break from mine. “It wasn’t.”

  Suddenly feeling flustered, I stabbed a piece of tuna and tried to buy some time. “I need to think about it.”

  My words surprised even me. Think about it? I couldn’t seriously consider his request.

  But he’d offered me a legitimate job. I wasn’t just arm candy. I would be earning my keep while seeing the world. It wasn’t like people were knocking down my door to hire me in the forensic field. I’d had some interviews, but nothing had panned out. Certainly being a bodyguard was a step up from being a crime scene cleaner … right?

  “All right. Think about it, then. I’ll need an answer in a couple of weeks, though.”

  I nodded. And for the rest of dinner, my thoughts volleyed back and forth between the dead body I’d found and the possibility of expanding my horizons.

  I had a lot to think about.

  CHAPTER 5

  “What in the world are you listening to?” Clarice asked. “It’s hurting my ears.”

  Clarice was a college student whom Chad and I had hired to work for us part-time. Right now, the two of us, along with Chad, were at the scene of a shooting at one of the housing projects in downtown Norfolk. There’d been a gun battle, apparently, because the walls and furniture were littered with bullet holes.

  The residents here couldn’t afford to pay me, but their landlord’s insurance could. The unfortunate part was that it always took a long time to get paid when our clients used insurance—there was a lot of red tape.

  Chad, the co-owner of the business, had decided to set up all these projections for the company. He’d also set monthly finance goals and deadlines to buy more equipment and hire new workers. He’d jumped in with both feet. He had more business sense than I’d thought he would and that made us a good balance. I had to stop thinking like a mom and pop business owner and start thinking big. Otherwise, we were going to get caught in the same cycles. That’s what Chad had said, at least.

  Right now, we had plaster to patch and some blood to scrub off the wall, ceiling, and carpet. I took a break from scouring and pushed my safety glasses to the top of my head. Clarice had asked about the music blaring through the room. “It’s for the play I’m now starring in.”

  Clarice blanched. She was a prissy girl I never imagined would be helping me with this job right now. She’d traded in her new designer clothes for her old designer clothes. But when she fixed up, she looked like a million bucks. She was a pop culture diva, she still almost fainted at the sight of blood, and she made me laugh.

  In some ways, she reminded me of Paulette. They were both pretty and came off as airheads sometimes. Clarice had confided once that she acted like an airhead on occasion because that’s who people assumed she was. She’d grown up a lot since I’d known her. Being abducted by a serial killer could do that.

  As a new song blared on, Clarice shook her head. “I’m sorry, but this is awful. I expect someone to come out juggling on a unicycle—and wearing a red, bulbous nose.”

  I squirmed. I’d been thinking the exact same thing. Still, I didn’t want to overreact. I mean, Paulette had raved about this musical. “Isn’t awful a strong word?”

  “I’m no musical connoisseur, but I think I’d purposely burst my eardrums if I had to listen to this,” Chad quipped. “Paying to listen to it? I’d demand my money back.”

  I actually did consider myself somewhat of a musical connoisseur. I had soundtracks running through my head constantly. This music all sounded canned, like amateur knock offs of real musical numbers. Even worse was that all the lyrics were reminiscent of actual hit musicals. Song titles like, “The Sound of the Music of the Night” and “Do You Hear the People Dream.” I suppose if someone wanted to imitate those musicals on purpose, almost like a parody, then this would be brilliant. But this musical was no parody.

  “Well, I’m going undercover. Part of my assignment is to learn this music.” I sounded so legit when I said it like that. “This sad part is that this play is both a comedy and a tragedy, yet it’s meant to be neither.”

  “It gives new meaning to ‘foul play.’” Clarice laughed at her own joke.

  I couldn’t help but smile. She was so right.

  “Did you say undercover?” Chad raised his eyebrows as he measured a section of drywall. “Well, look at you.”

  “I’m scrambling to try to learn this music, as well as my lines. It’s only two weeks until opening night. As Elsa McGovernness, I have a lot of work to do.”

  “Sign me up. Sierra and I will be there for your big debut.”

  “Me too!” Clarice added.

  “My big debut actually came in middle school. I was an extra in Oklahoma, thank you very much.”

  “We have a pro on our hands,” Chad said with a grin. He stood, wiping some dust from his pants, and held up the drywall square. “This is all ready to install. You remember how, right?”

  “Of course.” I’d done one bad patch job and now he doubted my competence. Men …

  “Great. I need to get to our second job site and make sure Braxton is okay.”

  Braxton was a new guy Chad had just hired. I’d only met him once, and I’d made Chad promise that he’d never make me work with him. The man was a regular know-it-all who talked nonstop. He drove me crazy.

  However, he was better than the other guy Chad had hired during the holidays. Thank goodness he was out of the picture now. I’d had no idea how complicated expanding the business would be.

  “We’re good,” I told him.

  He grabbed his toolbox, waved goodbye, and left.

  As soon as the door closed, I glanced over at Clarice. She was considering pursuing a degree in criminal justice herself and always seemed eager to help with any type of investigation that I had going on. Plus, it was good for her to keep her mind occupied.

  “Clarice, when you have a chance, could you do me a favor?”

  “Sure, whatever you need.”

  “I need someone to research a woman named Rose Hines. She was apparently a drama teacher who died at the former Oceanside Middle School.”

  “Sounds intriguing.” She raised her eyebrows comically.

  “It might be. I’d never heard about it before, but the woman who wrote The Music of the Specter is making a big deal out of it. I’d like to find out some more information.”

  “I’m on it.” Clarice rocked back on her heels. “So, I have a date tonight.”

  I’d started to pull my goggles back on but stopped. “A date? Really?”

  I hadn’t known her to date anyone. The girl was pretty enough to date whoever she wanted. But after the ordeal she’d been through, she’d been cautious about whom she hung out with. She was still in therapy.

  Truth be told, I should probably be in therapy still too. I told myself that crime scene cleaning was all the therapy I needed, but deep down I knew that was just an excuse. I had issues. There was no doubt about that. But I figured time would work everything out. A small voice inside kept whispering, “Ignorance is bliss—until the truth finally hits and you crack.” I ignored it.

  “So, tell me about this date. How’d you meet him?”

  “Yeah, it’s so crazy.” Her eyes gleamed. But there was something else there. Hesitation? I couldn’t be sure. “I can’t wait—”

  My phone rang, and I saw it was Paulette.


  “Hold that thought. I’ve got to take this.” I stepped away from the living room, into a dingy kitchen for some privacy. “Hey, Paulette. What’s up?”

  A sniffle sounded on the line. “Oh, Gabby. It’s awful.”

  “What’s awful?” I tensed.

  “The police just called me. They said that Scarlet’s death wasn’t an accident. They said that catwalk was rigged and, based on some bruises or something, they think she was pushed.”

  My pulse spiked. “They really think she was murdered?”

  Another sniffle. “That’s right. What am I going to do?”

  “Calm down. Where are you?”

  “At home.”

  I glanced around the house I was cleaning, trying to determine how much longer I’d be here. “I can be there in an hour, an hour and a half tops. Does that work?”

  “Thank you, Gabby. That’s perfect.”

  I got her address and hung up. Life really was starting to get interesting again.

  ***

  An hour later, I finished the job with Clarice. Even better—the drywall patch looked great. We’d had to replace that section because it looked like someone or something had rammed into it and left a huge indention. Previously, we’d subcontracted out work like that. But Chad crunched the numbers and realized how much we’d save doing it ourselves.

  I had one more scene to clean today before rehearsal started, but I needed to squeeze in my meeting with Paulette. I’d told Clarice to meet me at the second job site in a few hours.

  If it were anyone else, I would have sent him or her to the job site alone. But I had this need to take Clarice under my wing. Because of her affiliation with me, a serial killer had targeted her. I didn’t know if there was anything I could ever do to ease my guilt about that entire situation. I guess I felt like her guardian now, in some ways.

  An automated voice from my phone told me to turn left and, like a mindless robot, I did. I normally fought tooth and nail not to use GPS, but I hadn’t had time to go home and get directions, so I was relying on my phone. I’d just upgraded, using some of the money I’d made on a P.I. gig back in the fall.

  I started down a private road and suddenly hit the brakes as a large house appeared in front of me.

  I knew Paulette’s dad was loaded—like Bill Gates loaded—but her house blew me away.

  It looked like it belonged in Malibu or Palm Springs with its orange tile roof and beige stucco siding. There were palm trees on the property, and palm trees didn’t naturally grow or flourish in Virginia’s climate. The house had columns and arches and a circular driveway. Horses grazed in the distance. An iron fence in the backyard most likely bordered a swimming pool. Just a guess, but I’d wager some money on it if I were a betting woman.

  My beat up work van seemed sorely out of place here, like someone wearing stained, dirty construction clothes in Saks Fifth Avenue. Since I couldn’t transform my van into something it wasn’t, I put it in park and stepped out.

  I glanced down at my old, battered jeans and black T-shirt. Speaking of feeling out of place … my outfit wouldn’t do much on the impressions front either.

  I shoved a curl behind my ear and approached the massive front door. Before I even knocked, it flew open. Paulette stood there, her eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot. Behind her, I saw a glass of wine on the table.

  “Thanks for coming,” she started. “The police just left.”

  I squeezed her hand as I stepped inside. “Did they have anything to say?”

  We walked together through a massive foyer and into a living room with a ceiling that extended two stories high. A fire blazed and coffee and tea had been set out. I had a feeling Paulette hadn’t done that herself.

  We sat down in sync on a white leather couch. I really hoped I didn’t have any oil or plaster on my clothes that would ruin the lush cushions.

  “The police were asking about everyone who’s involved with the play,” Paulette said. “I had to tell them about the other incidents that happened. They’ll be questioning the cast. What if word of this leaks out, Gabby? The whole play will be ruined!”

  I thought about poor Scarlet and everything that had been ruined for her. Mainly, her chance at life. But I didn’t say that. I knew stress could cause people to think in irrational ways sometimes.

  “The play won’t be ruined,” I said instead. “If anything, more people will show up. Bad publicity is still publicity, unfortunately.”

  She sniffled again and let out a long, shaky breath. “I have so much riding on this.”

  She stood and paced over to the window.

  I hovered behind Paulette, sensing from her voice and tight body language that she was fragile and needed a friend. “Tell me about Scarlet.”

  Paulette continued to stare out of the window. “I didn’t know her very well, not like some of the other cast members did. I didn’t want to get too chummy with them, especially since I was in charge and all. Daddy always says there’s a line there. You can’t be authoritative and best buddies with people.”

  “Tell me what you did know about her then.”

  “She was going to college at ODU. She had dreams of making it big time. She had a really nice voice.”

  All those things were good, but they didn’t even begin to touch the answers I needed.

  “What about outside of the play?” I continued. “Was she single?”

  Paulette turned toward me, but her eyes appeared glazed. “I think she was dating someone.”

  “Did she have a roommate?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Did she work any other jobs?”

  “I have no idea.”

  I nodded slowly. Apparently, Paulette not only didn’t want to be too chummy, but she’d been overall oblivious as well. “I see. Do you know of anyone I could talk to about her?”

  “Maybe Arie. Arie helped me handpick her for the role.”

  “Arie, the playwright, helped handpick the lead?” Arie the Diva had left an impression, to say the least. Arie Berry the pain in the derriere—y.

  Sarcastic mantras came to me a little too easily sometimes.

  Apparently, Arie really wanted to maintain a lot of control still since usually a director picked the cast.

  Paulette nodded. “She should be at rehearsal again tomorrow night. I talked to her this morning and smoothed things over. She decided not to talk to her lawyer.”

  “I’ll talk to Arie then.”

  “I’m not sure she’s going to be on board with talking with you. She—”

  The front door flew open, and I twirled around. A man charged inside the house. Even from where I was standing, I could see the veins bulging at his temples as he stormed toward us.

  Instinctively, I pushed Paulette behind me and braced myself. It wasn’t as if I’d ever taken any self-defense courses or anything. But I figured I was more capable than Paulette. Too bad I didn’t have my gun with me.

  Behind me, Paulette let out a sigh. A sigh? That didn’t generally convey fear, more like annoyance. I noticed she stayed behind me, though. Was she … cowering?

  “Really?” the man exclaimed, getting closer and closer. He held some papers in his hand and waved them like a flag. “You had to send your lawyer to talk to me about this? You couldn’t have mentioned it yourself?”

  Paulette crossed her arms behind me. “You’re not welcome to come and go as you please, Roberto. This isn’t your home anymore.”

  “You’re doing everything in your power to make sure that’s true, aren’t you?” The man looked to be in his early thirties, and he was fit and tan and had a slight accent that I couldn’t pinpoint. Brazilian, maybe? He was probably handsome when he wasn’t blowing his top, slightly resembling a young Antonio Banderas.

  “You knew that when we got married,” Paulette said. “There was a pre-nup. None of this should be a surprise.”

  He stepped closer and thrust the papers toward her, and I could practically see the steam coming from his ears. “
This isn’t fair, Paulette. Not after everything we went through. I deserve more than this.”

  Paulette leaned past me, steely determination in her gaze and more fight in her voice than I knew she had. “Everything we went through? That would be one year of marriage. One lousy year at that.”

  I just wished I wasn’t standing between the bickering couple. If there’s one thing I wasn’t, it was a marriage counselor. I couldn’t even manage my own relationships, let alone give anyone else advice.

  “You can’t leave me high and dry like this.” The man—Roberto?—started to reach for Paulette.

  I held up a hand. “Maybe you should back off for a minute.”

  His fiery gaze fell on me, and his eyes widened, almost as if he’d finally noticed I was standing there. “Who are you?”

  “I’m a friend of Paulette’s. And I don’t like your tone. You should treat a lady like a lady.”

  “This is none of your business,” he growled.

  I bristled. “It became my business when you accosted Paulette right in front of me.”

  “Accosted? Accosted? Let me guess—you must be a lawyer! Another one! You’re trying to catch me in the act, aren’t you? Trying to nail me.”

  I pushed myself in front of Paulette. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I think you need to cool it, though.”

  His nostrils flared as his gaze burned into Paulette. “This isn’t over. Not by a long shot … Honey.” The word dripped with bitterness and derision. “I’ll fight this with everything in me.”

  With that, he stormed out.

  I turned to look at my friend. My heart pounded out of control, so I could only imagine what hers was doing.

  Her lips were pulled into a tight line, and she crossed her arms.

  “I guess he doesn’t realize that if there’s anything my dad knows about—besides money—it’s how to draw up a contract. There’s no wiggle room. Roberto is leaving this marriage with what he brought into it—practically nothing. I thought I was being generous when I let him keep the Mercedes.”

  Wow. I didn’t know Paulette had it in her. She’d always seemed so placid in the past. “Estranged husband, huh?”