To make things worse, I still had to get my car keys back from Paulette, which meant that we had to interact again.
“I’m sorry about that, Gabby,” Paulette began. “You know I didn’t want to call the police. Roberto just jumped in.”
“What’s he doing over here, anyway?”
Her cheeks flushed. “He was trying to talk things through.”
I glanced over at him. He was on his phone, talking in Spanish or Portuguese. “And did he succeed?”
She shook her head. “No, he didn’t. He just got here a few minutes before you did.”
I shook my head, feeling a steady ache coming on. “Do you still want me to work this case?”
“Oh, yes, Gabby. Just because Roberto called the police doesn’t mean I don’t trust you. You still want to investigate, right?”
I thought about it a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I don’t like stopping things before I complete them.”
“Then I’ll see you at practice tomorrow evening?”
“I’ll be there.”
She tossed me my van keys. “Great. I hope there are no hard feelings.”
As soon as she disappeared inside, I turned to Garrett.
“You’re probably not going to want to hang out with me for the rest of the day after all.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I’m going to go talk to Donabell’s husband.” I crossed my arms. “This investigation is getting too personal.”
CHAPTER 23
Surprisingly, Garrett stuck with me. I figured he’d bail at the first opportunity, and I’d certainly given him an escape route. If things went downhill from here, he’d only have himself to blame.
That’s what I told myself, at least.
As I pulled up to Donabell’s house, I wished I’d taken the time to trade my van for one of Garrett’s sleeker cars. But it was too late for that.
I also wished I’d had the chance to freshen up a bit—maybe reapply my makeup or check my clothes for wayward pieces of my lunch. But it was too late for that also.
At the door, I paused. “I’m supposed to be undercover.”
Garrett raised his hands. “Okay … ?”
“So, would you mind playing along? I’m not investigating per se. I’m simply a member of the cast, after all. Undercover and all.”
“Play along, I will.”
Before I could ring the bell, compose myself, or even check my breath for the garlic bread I’d eaten earlier, a man answered the door. He was tall, and big boned, and had a thick stomach.
His gaze fell on Garrett and a larger-than-life grin spread across his face. “Garrett Mercer! How are you, man?”
Trent, who wore jeans, cowboy boots, and a Dallas sweatshirt, also had a slow drawl and a loud voice—the epitome of a man from Texas. He gave Garrett a man hug, slapping his back with enough force that I cringed for Garrett.
“I’m doing great. Just happened to be in the neighborhood, and I thought I’d stop by and take a look at those golf clubs you were telling me about.”
I could have kissed Garrett. Seriously. He was a lifesaver because I had no idea what my excuse was going to be for dropping by.
“Absolutely. It’s like I told you—any time.” Trent’s gaze traveled to me. “And who is this?”
I grinned. “I’m Gabby.”
“Nice to meet you, Gabby. Why don’t you both come inside?” He stepped back. “Get out of that weather.”
Trent lived in a contemporary brick house on a decent sized lot. Two kids ran around in the background, chasing each other. The smell of something spicy—Mexican, maybe?—drifted out toward me, along with the children’s squeals.
“Donabell! We have guests.”
A woman came around the corner.
“Gabby, this is my wife—”
“Gabby St. Claire?” The woman stopped in her tracks. Her lips parted in surprise.
“Donabell.”
“You two know each other?” her husband asked.
“We went to middle school together,” Donabell said, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.
“Well, isn’t it a small world? Sit down. Donabell will get us some drinks, won’cha, hun?” he asked, sounding at once jolly, firm, and in charge.
Donabell scowled. “Of course.”
In what was every unpopular girl’s dream, Donabell had aged.
Don’t get me wrong—she still looked good. But she looked much more ordinary than I’d imagined she would. She had a distinct apple figure—a small apple, but still an apple. Her hair looked thin and like all the bleaching she’d done had made it brittle. And perhaps most unfortunately, she already had some wrinkles, probably due to the hours she’d spent in the sun working on her tan when we were younger.
Garrett sat on the couch, chatting away with Trent, who’d probably never met a stranger. I started to join them but decided to help Donabell instead. I found her in the kitchen.
Dishes were piled in the sink, meat simmered on the stove, and the dishwasher moaned on the other side of the room, steam seeping from its edges. Juice had been spilled on the floor and water puddles could be seen on several surfaces.
I cleared my throat, realizing she hadn’t heard me come in. “Can I help?”
“Kids, no water guns in the house. Haven’t I told you that before? You’re going to ruin the paint!” Donabell shouted.
So that would explain the puddles.
Donabell turned to me and sighed. “I’m fine. Thank you. Why don’t you sit down?”
I’d imagined this moment many times, especially as a middle schooler on the occasions when Donabell had belittled me. Put me down. Publically insulted me. And never once had my imaginings included me feeling sorry for her. Never. Ever.
But that’s what I felt now. I just couldn’t shake the feeling that Donabell was overwhelmed, tired, and maybe even neglected or ignored. So much for the Donabell who wanted to be famous, center of attention, and in the limelight.
I’d obviously caught her off guard because she was wearing old jeans and a sweatshirt. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She’d always been put together back in middle school.
I didn’t get the satisfaction I’d expected.
“I insist. Let me grab these two glasses.” Before she could argue, I took my and Garrett’s glasses of tea.
“Thank you,” she muttered as we joined Trent and Garrett in the living room.
Small talk went around the room for a while. Finally, at a break, I decided I could delicately bring up an undelicate situation. “So, you’ll never believe this, Donabell. I’m actually acting in a play at our old middle school.”
She raised a thin eyebrow. “Are you? Just like old times, huh?”
“Paulette Zollin is managing everything there. I do, at times, feel like I should be back in seventh grade.”
“The old middle school, you said?” Trent chuckled. “That’s funny. I was trying to buy that property.”
I tilted my head and stole a glance at Garrett. “Were you?”
Trent laughed. “Yes, I was. I really thought I was going to win the bidding war, but I didn’t. Then everything started happening there, and I was glad I didn’t win. Or, I should say, I wondered if Paulette had changed her mind.”
“What do you mean?”
“I saw the article in today’s paper. Arie Berry was interviewed. She talked about all the strange things happening at play practice. I guess I shouldn’t say strange when two people were found there dead.”
“That was in the paper?” I’d missed it and was surprised that no one, especially Paulette, had mentioned it.
“Yes, ma’am, it was. As soon as I read it, I emailed Paulette, asking if she’d changed her mind. It was all in good fun. She probably didn’t take it that way, though. She was determined to buy the old school.”
“I wonder why. I mean, it just doesn’t really seem like her thing,” I said, fishing for more information.
“Paulette was lucky to find her way
to class without getting lost,” Donabell muttered. “I’m not exaggerating.”
I wanted to argue and stand up for my friend. I really did. But what Donabell had said was true. Paulette had been like a lost little puppy dog who desperately needed someone to guide her. Her money and looks did nothing to enhance her personality or smarts.
“Paulette apparently is like her mom,” Donabell continued. “You know Mr. Zollin married a model who was twenty years his junior. All looks, no brains. That’s the rumor, at least.”
“Well, she’s determined to make a go of this.” I refused to talk poorly about her.
Donabell shrugged. “Well, best of luck to her, then.” Just then, one of her kids ran past with a water gun. “Chris! I told you not to play with those in the house.” She scurried off after him.
I chewed on what I’d learned by being here. I didn’t think Trent was behind those vandalisms. Either that or he should really consider a career change and go into theater because he was a great actor.
At least I’d ruled him out.
Now I needed to figure out who else I could eliminate.
***
An hour later, Garrett had seen Trent’s “amazing” golf clubs and it was time for us to go. I’d attempted to make conversation with Donabell, but almost every time it was interrupted by one of her children. Her boys were a handful, for sure.
Donabell walked me to the van while Garrett and Trent chatted about an upcoming community fundraiser.
“Are you happy now?” she muttered when we were out of earshot of the men.
“Happy about what?” I asked, genuinely confused.
“Happy that the girl who caused you so much grief in middle school is a miserable mess, all while you’re dating a rich, famous CEO and starring in community theater productions?” She crossed her arms and huffed.
“Why would that make me happy? Besides, you have two beautiful children, a nice house—”
“A chauvinistic husband. My life is my kids. I spend all my time driving them around from practice to practice. Trent thinks that’s my job.”
My heart panged. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t feel sorry for me,” she snapped.
“I’m sorry that you’re not happy.”
“Don’t be nice.”
I raised my hands, realizing that nothing I said would be right. “I’ll pray that you find peace and wisdom in your life, Donabell. If you ever need to talk, call me. I’m pretty good at listening.”
She stared at me and opened her mouth to say something when Garrett reappeared. He called a jolly goodbye before we climbed into my van and took off down the road.
“Did you get the answers you wanted?” Garrett asked.
“As a matter of fact, I did. And by the way, you were great at improvising back there. Like, amazingly great.”
He grinned. “Anything I can do to help.”
“Donabell didn’t look happy, both about seeing me and about how her life has turned out.”
“You don’t think?”
I shook my head and tried to remember how to get where I was going. “No, not at all. It seems like she’s lost herself in the process of becoming a wife and mother.”
“Being a wife and mother is a noble calling.”
“They are. But Donabell had big dreams. She may have changed in the years since we last spoke, but I’m pretty sure none of those dreams included being a housewife. Maybe a pampered housewife, one with a nanny and a cleaner. But I just sensed this underlying discontent in her.”
It was also strange to see someone my age seem so much older.
Though in my heart I felt like I was still 23, I had to face the fact that my clock was ticking. I was thirty and my life was flying by. I didn’t have much to show for it except for a business that I co-owned. I didn’t own an apartment, a nice car, or even nice clothes. I didn’t have a family of my own. I felt like, in some way, I was lagging behind.
As we started down an overpass, I hit the brakes to slow down.
Nothing happened.
I pressed harder.
Still nothing.
My eyes widened in realization as we charged toward the red light ahead.
“Gabby?” Garrett asked.
“My brakes are out,” I rushed. Adrenaline surged through me, heightening both my senses and my fear. “Hang on!”
As the intersection neared, I saw the cars crossing the highway. An oversized truck. A minivan. Several sedans. If I didn’t slow down, I was going to hit at least one of them.
I braced myself for the worst.
Lord, help us!
CHAPTER 24
“Gabby!” Garrett yelled.
In a split second decision, I pulled the wheel hard to the left. The van spun and spun. A blur of asphalt and cars and blue sky muddled around me.
They said that before death your life flashed before your eyes. Right now, everything played at fast-forward in my mind. My brother disappearing. My mom dying. Starting my crime scene business. Losing Riley.
All the way up to where I was today. Stuck in a cyclical cycle of my own doing. Acting at times like my own worst enemy.
Was this it?
Somewhere in the chaos, I screamed. My hands gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles.
I was going to die and what kind of legacy would I leave behind? I’d solved a few crimes. A few of my friends would miss me. But life would go on. In a few days, it would be like I never existed.
I waited for a crash. For impact. For the van to roll.
Instead, we came to a halt.
My head was still spinning, my breathing labored, and sweat dripped across my brow as I sat there in total shock for a minute.
“Are you okay?” Garret asked.
I glanced over at him. Blood trickled down his forehead, causing another moment of panic in me. That could have ended horribly.
I grabbed his hand and squeezed, desperately needing human contact at the moment. “I’m okay. You?”
He nodded. “I’ll survive. Come on. Let’s get out of here before another car rams us.”
When I stepped on the road, my knees felt too weak to hold me up. Thankfully, a whole army of bystanders surrounded us. Someone grabbed my elbow before I sank to the ground.
I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened.
My brake lines had been cut. I felt certain of it.
And Paulette had been the one with the most access to do just that.
***
A police officer gave us a ride back to Garrett’s place. After hearing the officers at the scene talk and thinking through things in my own mind, I’d come to the conclusion that my brakes had been cut, just not all the way. That way, whoever had done the deed wouldn’t look as guilty since the accident hadn’t happened immediately.
Back at Garrett’s, he’d insisted that, this time, I borrow one of his cars. My van had been hauled away to be examined by forensic techs. Thankfully, Garrett had walked away with only a cut on his forehead and some butterfly bandages. I’d walked away shaken.
But everything in my life seemed to be telling me to stop being chained down by my past. As my life had flashed before my eyes, that thought had only been re-emphasized.
Even in church today, the pastor had something about “the old is gone and the new has come.”
I really needed to get the hint.
Garrett and I walked through the parking garage outside of his apartment building. It was dark outside now, and the light in the garage was dim. The cold air crackled around us.
“You want to come up to my place a minute?” he asked at the elevator. “I’ll try to make sure no SWAT teams interrupt us.”
I appreciated his attempt at humor, but I couldn’t even smile. “I really should get home and return some phone calls that came in today. I’ve got to get my work lined up for the week.”
“You sure?” His gaze seemed to draw me toward him.
Before I could second guess myself, I leaned forwa
rd and planted a kiss on his lips. His hands went to my waist, encircling it, silently asking permission for more.
I expected the whole scenario to feel foreign. I waited to feel like I’d betrayed Riley. But instead of negative emotions, I felt hopeful. For the first time in a long time.
“What was that for?” Garrett asked, keeping his hands firmly planted on my waist.
“It was to say thank you. For everything.”
“Feel free to say thank you anytime. I’ll do whatever I can to make sure you’re grateful.”
My hands slipped around his neck. “You’ve been really good to me, Garrett. I appreciate it. Any normal person would have run from me today.”
He leaned closer. “It’s a good thing I’m not normal then.”
Our lips connected again, for longer this time.
“I’d invite you up again, but now I’m thinking that would be a bad idea.”
I smiled, my lips still tingling. “Yes, a bad idea. But we’ll catch up later. Lunch maybe?”
“And the play is this weekend. You can’t forget that.”
“Believe me, whether I want to or not, I can’t block that from my memory.”
His thumb brushed against my cheek. “You’re going to be safe, right?”
“I will.”
He dropped his hands from my waist and intertwined my fingers with his. “Let me show you to your chariot then.”
***
My brain was still swirling with more than its fair share of dueling thoughts as I headed to my first job the next morning.
I met with the homeowner first and went over instructions for what we were doing today. She signed a contract that I’d printed out last night, and I began making a list of what needed to be done and the order we should complete it all. This would at least be a two-day job, and I’d probably need to call in Chad and maybe even Braxton.
Clarice arrived on time to help. I was pulling up some carpet that was officially considered a biohazard. The homeowner had left the house abandoned for the past six months and, in the meantime, it had become a hangout for druggies. There were needles and stains and even a couple of bullet holes. The whole place should have probably been condemned. Here I was instead.
Christy Barritt - Squeaky Clean 08 - Foul Play Page 15