Christy Barritt - Squeaky Clean 08 - Foul Play

by Christy Barritt

  “How do you feel?”

  At her question, I felt like a huge boulder was placed on my shoulders. “I like Garrett. I really do.”

  “There’s a ‘but’ in there.”

  “Sometimes I just wish we’d met at a different time in my life, you know?”

  “You mean, before Riley?”

  I bit down on my lip. Suddenly chilly, I pulled a fleece blanket decorated with cats over my lap. I wasn’t a cat fanatic, but Sierra had given me this as a gift at Christmas. “Yeah, I mean before Riley.”

  “Have you heard from him lately?”

  I shook my head. “No, not really. It’s been three weeks, I think.” There was no “think” about it. It had been three weeks, two days, and six hours. How long did it take you to get over losing the love of your life?

  “It might be time to move on, Gabby. You should give yourself permission to let go.”

  “But what if Riley decides he’s ready to try again? What if—”

  “What if that never happens and you turn down a great guy like Garrett?”

  The rock on my shoulders suddenly became heavier. “You’re right. I would be making a huge mistake.”

  “Riley may never be the same person, Gabby.” She squeezed my arm. “I know you don’t want to hear that. I know you want to think that things will go back to the way they were before. But injuries like Riley’s—”

  “They can change a person forever,” I finished. I’d spent hours researching all of this online and hoping that the information I’d read was wrong, even though I knew in my heart it wasn’t. “I know.”

  She wiped beneath her eyes as tears wet them. Sierra? Crying? This was not a sight I usually saw. This subject must be very touchy to her.

  “Gabby, none of those other jobs you’ve applied for with the medical examiner’s office have come through yet. If there was ever a time to get out and see the world, it’s now. Maybe explore more than the world. Explore what life with Garrett would be like. I like him, Gabby. I know he’s not Riley, but he’s a good guy.”

  Garrett’s picture fluttered into my mind, and I smiled. “He is. He’s handsome, smart, funny—”

  “Rich. Don’t forget rich. But he’s also charitable. And his accent? It’s to die for.” She let out a sigh.

  “I won’t tell Chad you said that.”

  “I appreciate that.” She smiled and wiped her eyes one more time. “How long do you have to think about it?”

  “A couple of weeks.”

  “Garrett’s always good about giving you deadlines, isn’t he?”

  Garrett was definitely a deadline person. Maybe it had something to do with him being the CEO of his own company. He knew that being indecisive only wasted time. “He seems to know I’ll waffle around and not make a choice otherwise.”

  Sierra squeezed my hand. “You’ll make the right choice. You always do.”

  I wished I felt as confident as she did.

  “Don’t tell Chad, by the way,” I implored. “I don’t want to stress him out. It doesn’t seem right to leave him hanging with the business.”

  “I don’t know if that would stress him out. He’s seemed pretty happy lately, truth be told. At least, he’s happy when he’s at home.”

  Something about the way she said the words made me pause. “Is there any reason in particular he’s so happy?”

  A grin spread across Sierra’s face. “Because we’re having a baby!”

  CHAPTER 9

  My mouth dropped open. “What? Are you serious? Congratulations!”

  I threw my arms around her. When we pulled out of the hug, she was still grinning. And my friend wasn’t a huge smiler. Marriage had softened her up some, and I was sure that having a baby would do that even more. It wasn’t that long ago she’d lived and breathed her job as an animal rights activist.

  She laughed and pushed her glasses up higher. “Yes, I’m serious.”

  “I can’t believe it. Here I was going on and on about Africa. You should have stopped me!”

  “I love hearing about your adventures. There was no reason to stop you.”

  “Of course there was. You’re having a baby! I want to hear everything. Everything! When are you due?”

  “In June.”

  “June?” I did a quick calculation. “So you’re four, five months already?”

  She nodded and rubbed her belly. “I’m not showing yet. I wanted to get past the first trimester and then some before I said anything. We just found out this week that it’s a boy.”

  I leaned back hard. “I can’t believe this, Sierra. I’m so happy for you guys.”

  “We’re happy, too. This wasn’t really planned, but we’re ready.”

  “Are you moving? Will you keep working? Do you have any names picked out yet?”

  Sierra laughed at my slew of questions. “We don’t know yet. We’re still trying to figure some things out. I think this is one more reason Chad has been pushing so hard to really make the most of the business. He’s going to have a family to support soon.”

  “You’re going to be a great mom, Sierra.” I smiled, imagining her with a baby. It was easy. I just replaced the mental image of her cradling one of her cats with one of her with an infant. If she loved that baby half as much as she loved her animals, motherhood would be a piece of cake for her.

  We talked for a few more minutes and then she went back downstairs.

  When I was alone in my apartment, I huddled on my couch. One thought remained in my mind. Everyone was growing up except me. I was stuck here in the same place I’d been since I dropped out of college.

  Why wasn’t I making any effort to change that?

  ***

  The next day, in between cleaning one crime scene and working on a bathroom remodel at another—that was Chad’s idea—I researched various cast members. Paulette had given me a list of first and last names. I hopped on the Internet and searched for anything interesting about them, as well as looked at their social media pages, which generally revealed way too much about people.

  At the end of my research, I wasn’t any farther along than when I started. I definitely didn’t see anything that would indicate I should investigate one cast member over another.

  Until I came to Jerome.

  Absolutely nothing came up when I searched for him, which was highly unusual for an actor who wanted to make a name for himself. I needed to ask some more questions about him, and I hoped I might get my opportunity to do that at practice this evening.

  Out of curiosity, I did a search for “Riley Thomas.” I knew it was a long shot that any articles would come up, but this was my once a week ritual.

  My eyes widened when a news bit popped up at the top of the screen. My heart fell into my stomach as I read the words.

  “Riley Thomas named junior partner at Smith, Gleason, and Aims.”

  I read the article, just to make sure I wasn’t jumping to conclusions. I wasn’t. Riley was going back to work. As a lawyer.

  He was moving on. Establishing himself again. Taking on commitments, responsibilities.

  Even more, he was developing permanency. Up in DC. Nowhere close to me.

  I couldn’t believe it.

  Nor could I believe the fact that he hadn’t told me.

  Spontaneously, I walked across the hallway to Riley’s old apartment. I tried to avoid it as much as I could because there were too many bad memories. Riley was subletting the space to his cousin. She was considerably younger and taking classes at a nearby culinary school. I’d interacted with her a few times and she seemed nice enough.

  Before I could second guess myself, I knocked at the door. To my surprise, Olivia answered. Her eyes widened when she saw me. “Gabby! Hi, there.”

  “Hey, Olivia.” I stood there a moment. Why in the world was I going to tell her I was here? This was where planning really came in handy. “I was wondering if you had any flour? I’m going to bake a … cake. That’s right. A cake. And I’m out of flour, of all things
.”

  Actually, I never bought flour because I never baked. Never.

  “It’s kind of hard to make a cake with no flour! Of course I have some. Come on in.”

  I stepped inside, watching her walk into the kitchen. In so many ways, she looked like Riley. They both had dark hair and blue eyes. She had pleasant, even features and seemed grounded.

  “So, what kind of cake are you making?” she asked, standing on her tiptoes and reaching into a cabinet.

  What kind of cake? I glanced around the apartment, looking for an idea. My gaze fell on a bag of chips. “It’s called a potato chip cake.”

  A potato chip cake? Really, Gabby?

  Her head swerved toward me, her nose scrunched in distaste. “I’ve heard of a lot of things but never that. Have you had it before?”

  I shrugged. “Yeah. I thought everyone had. They’re all the rage. Sweet and salty.”

  She raised her eyebrows before reaching back into the cabinet for a canister of flour. “You’ll have to let me know how it turns out.”

  “Of course.”

  My gaze fell on the TV stand and I froze. There was a new picture there. A picture of Riley. With a woman.

  What?

  I inched closer, certain I was seeing things.

  No, sure enough, there was Riley with his arm around a blonde wearing hospital scrubs. A lump formed in my throat.

  “Here you go!” Olivia handed me the canister.

  I pushed away the emotions that wanted to flood out and took the canister. “Thank you,” I mumbled.

  “No problem. If you have any extra, I’d love a piece! Maybe I’ll impress my instructor with it. It could be the next big thing since chocolate covered bacon.”

  I forced a smile. “I’ll let you know.” I started to the door and paused. “How’s Riley, by the way?”

  Her smile slipped. “He’s hanging in. Seems to be returning to his old self. That’s all we’ve been praying for.”

  I nodded. “Me, too.”

  ***

  Garrett picked me up at 4:00 and drove me to my former teacher’s house. I tried to put aside thoughts of Riley and betrayal and a million other emotions I was still trying to identify.

  Maybe Sierra was right. It was time for me to move on. Riley had. Why shouldn’t I?

  As soon as I got home, I was going to find a box and pack away all my reminders of him. I still had his sweatshirt. The first rose he’d given me—I’d pressed it between the pages of an old dictionary. I had pictures of us stuffed in my drawers.

  My first step would be to get rid of those things. It would be healthy. I had to remove the physical ties to the past before I could remove the emotional ones.

  However, it was hard to move forward when pieces of my past continued to resurface. Aside from the whole Riley thing, I suddenly had been thrust back in time at my old middle school, surrounded by people from my tween days, and remembering life as it had been many years ago.

  My heart pounded in my ears as Garrett and I pulled into a familiar neighborhood. “This is the same street where Mrs. Baker used to live back when I was in middle school. I dog sat for her once.”

  I smiled as I remembered those days of trying to earn extra money, of riding my bike all over town, of having my first boyfriend. It seemed like another lifetime ago. Back when Mom was alive. She’d worked so hard to keep the family both afloat and together.

  I wondered what my life would be like today if Mom hadn’t died. If my brother hadn’t disappeared. If my dad hadn’t become a drunk.

  If my life hadn’t taken detours.

  My life had taken a lot of unexpected turns. Maybe it was time to take back some control in my life and start calling the shots.

  Again, I was traveling back in time. But I had to make peace with my past before I could march into the future … right?

  “Did you grow up in this area?” Garrett asked.

  “I lived only a few blocks away. I haven’t been back here since my mom died.” I shook my head, pushing away the memories.

  “Lots of memories, huh?”

  “You could say that. I’ll have to show you where I grew up sometime,” I told him, my gaze fixated out the window. “It’s nothing like your childhood home.”

  Garrett had grown up in a 10,000 square foot mansion with tennis courts. Well, that was one of his homes. His family came from old money. But even being rich hadn’t spared them heartache. In fact, it may have added to their troubles.

  “I’m sure it’s simply charming.”

  “I’ll let you keep thinking that.” I hadn’t been back to my old place in years, nor had I ever shown anyone what it looked like. My home wasn’t exactly something to be proud of. While I hadn’t lived in a trailer, I had lived in a duplex in a not-so-nice part of town. The grass had always been overgrown, our van had been ghetto with its faded paint and missing hubcaps, and our driveway had boasted oil stains.

  I thought I was taking steps to move away from repeating the mistakes of my parents. I’d always wanted to do better for myself. But maybe I was really just heading in the same direction—the direction of going nowhere.

  I pointed to a small little bungalow in the distance. “That’s it. That’s Mrs. Baker’s house.”

  I guess I should have called her Mrs. Harper, but she’d always be Mrs. Baker to me.

  We parked and climbed out of the car.

  I did a mental “cheers” to myself. Here’s to exploring yet another part of your past, Gabby. And here’s to learning how to let go.

  CHAPTER 10

  I paused on the driveway, trying to gather my wits, and Garrett pulled me closer. “I just want to say thank you for inviting me along. I know this Mrs. Baker means a lot to you. I also know that revisiting the days of old isn’t always easy.”

  I smiled up him. “I’m glad you can be here. More than glad—I’m grateful.”

  He looked at me a moment like he wanted to say more. I saw it in his eyes, in his lingering gaze. But instead he grinned and took my hand. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”

  Something about feeling my hand in Garrett’s warmed my heart. At the moment, I didn’t feel like I was all alone in the world. But there was so much more at stake here than my loneliness. Would I ever love anyone else as much as I’d loved Riley? I didn’t know, but I really needed to start giving that some thought.

  Mrs. Baker answered the door, her eyes lighting when she spotted us on the stoop. After a quick round of introductions, we were whisked inside.

  I spotted Mrs. Baker’s husband Amos standing in the background. His hair was graying and his face had thinned out some. But he still looked ornery and tough and like the man who’d ultimately made Mrs. Baker a very happy woman.

  “Gabby St. Claire.” He shook his head and, for a moment, I thought he wasn’t happy to see me. Then a grin spread across his face. “First time I met you I thought you were stealing my sister’s dog. Look at you now! All grown up.”

  He actually hugged me before doing that guy hug and handshake thing with Garrett.

  Then I met Mrs. Baker’s daughter, Larissa. I nearly gawked.

  The girl was 13. She had curly hair that looked like she’d tried to straightened. Her gaze looked determined, curious.

  She reminded me of … well—me—when I was that age.

  For a moment, and just a moment, I wanted to be transported back to my younger days. I wanted to see my mom again. I wanted to eat her applesauce pancakes with candied walnuts. I wanted to hear her call me Tootsie. I wanted to let her know how much I missed her.

  I’d had an entirely different set of problems back then, but I’d been too young and naïve to worry about things like food and housing. Instead I’d worried about boys and cliques at school and how I’d ever make up for taking my eyes off my brother long enough for someone to snatch him.

  “Let’s eat before everything gets cold,” Mrs. Baker said. “We have play practice in an hour and a half anyway. I wish we had more time, but I’ll take what
I can get.”

  We sat down to roast beef, mashed potatoes, green beans, and rolls—if I ate good food like this every night, I’d gain twenty pounds.

  “How’s your mom, Gabby?” Mrs. Baker asked, taking a sip of tea.

  My throat burned. “She actually passed away while I was in college. Cancer.”

  “Oh, Gabby. I’m so sorry. She was such a nice woman.” She reached across the table and squeezed my hand.

  “She was. My dad’s still around. He actually has a job now. That’s a good first step. About 18 years late, but …”

  When my brother disappeared, my dad quickly cascaded into a downward spiral that should have made the record books. He’d gone from a champion surfer to couch potato drunk faster than you could say, “Cowabunga, dude!” My mom had worked two jobs to pay the bills while my father had his license and any good sense taken away.

  “Better late than never?” Mrs. Baker filled in with raised eyebrows.

  “Exactly.”

  We talked for several minutes, catching up. Then the subject turned to the play. I wanted to get a feel from her about what was going on.

  “It’s all been very strange, Gabby,” Mrs. Baker said, slicing an apple pie. “Someone is obviously sabotaging everything, I just can’t for the life of me figure out why. Then there’s Scarlet …”

  “What did you know about her?”

  Mrs. Baker let out a long breath as she handed out dessert. “To tell you the truth—not much. I have a feeling no one did. She kept to herself a lot and didn’t share many personal details. She was a talented actress. I don’t know if she was Broadway material, but she had something there.”

  “Did you see any arguments between Scarlet and anyone else?”

  She sat down and raised her fork. “Now that you mention it, I did see her and Arie whispering rather heatedly about something last week. I didn’t think much of it—creative differences, I assumed. I was glad to see that at least they were talking about it.”