Organized Grime (Squeaky Clean Mysteries)

by Christy Barritt

  Bruce squatted behind a car in the driveway. I tried to do the same, but my ribs ached. My face throbbed. The cold bit me down to the bone.

  He unzipped the black bag at his feet. I braced myself for whatever was inside. He reached into the folds and emerged with… a stake? Did he think this man was a vampire or something?

  “The picture fell off,” he mumbled. He reached into the bag again. “Take this one instead.”

  “Picture?” I looked down at the object in my hands. A picture of a dead sea turtle? “What…?”

  “These are the animals that are being killed because these people are destroying our wetlands.”

  Pictures? This whole thing had been about putting pictures of dead animals in this contractor’s yard?

  I might have laughed if I didn’t feel so awful.

  Before I could react, lights flooded us. Men surrounded the car. And, out of a bullhorn, I heard, “This is the FBI. Put your hands in the air.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The next morning, I stared at my computer, trying to figure out where to go next with my investigation. I couldn’t even think of anything to do an Internet search on. In my frustration, I nearly wanted to throw my computer out the window.

  That would do no good. I could barely lift the beast, especially not with my arm still sore. I’d taken off the sling, but my appendage still ached. It didn’t help that I didn’t take my pain medicine this morning. I wanted to be able to think clearly, though. And I wanted to be able to drive, especially since my interview was today.

  The events of last night replayed in my head. Bruce had simply been going to do the equivalent of an environmentalist forking or toilet papering of a yard.

  Bruce may be crazy, but he wasn’t our guy.

  And based on the way he’d sputtered out insults at me, he wouldn’t be calling me again anytime soon. I wouldn’t be shedding any tears over that one.

  More than anything, I wanted to race across the hall, pound on Riley’s door and tell him about everything that had happened. He’d always been my confidante. Not talking to him was killing me. But this was for the best, I reminded myself. My world and Riley’s world would never merge, no matter what Sharon or anyone else thought.

  My cell phone rang and brought me out of my misery. “Trauma Care,” I answered.

  “I’m trying to reach Gabby St. Claire.” The male on the other end spoke quickly, like he was hurried.

  “This is she. What can I help you with?”

  “I was hoping we could talk.” The man breathed heavily on the other end. Was he trying to scare me? Or was he nervous?

  “Who is the second person in this ‘we’ equation?”

  “My name is Clifford Reynolds.”

  I sat up straight. “Clifford. You called back.”

  “Sorry it took so long. I… I was hesitant.”

  “Why?”

  “Lots of reasons.”

  “Why do you want to talk to me now?”

  “Because I can’t talk to the police. I’m hoping you can help me, though. I’m in a boatload of trouble.”

  I wanted to tell him he should get a lawyer. But instead, I agreed to meet him. I’d get whatever information I could from him first. Then I’d advise him.

  “Can you come to my office down at City Hall?”

  “I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Does that work?”

  “I’ll see you then.”

  ***

  I stared at Clifford, who was still by all accounts a mouth breather. I pushed that thought aside as I stared at him from across his desk. The man wasn’t trying to scare me as I’d wondered earlier. This man was scared. “What can I do for you, Clifford?”

  He squirmed in his leather chair. His eyes looked everywhere around his tidy office until his gaze finally met mine. “I think I’m going to die tonight.”

  Woe. This was big. “Why would you think that?”

  He wrung his hands together on top of his desk calendar. “Here’s the deal, Gabby. I don’t want to die and the person behind my death to get away with it. I have to say that these people are dangerous, though. They’ll stop at nothing to get what they want.”

  These people? The ecoterrorists?

  “Okay, I’m a big girl. I’ve beat death a couple of times already.”

  He stared at me, his brown eyes dull. I could tell this conversation was hard for him. Finally, he blurted, “I’ve done some bad things.”

  I crossed my fingers on my lap, trying to gather my patience. Was this man to be taken seriously? Or would this be another let down, like the one from last night? “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve done and let me be the judge of that?”

  His lips pulled into a tight line, and I could tell that whatever he wanted to say was heavy on his mind. He did a half-swirl in his chair, until the window behind him illuminated his profile. After a moment, he turned back to me. “I’m in charge of permits for the city. I give my stamp of approval whenever someone wants to build something—anything from a shed to a housing development.”

  I nodded, getting a better idea of where he was going. “Okay…”

  “The area where Harrison Developers wanted to build in Chesapeake should have been off-limits. That land has been preserved for years. It’s important that we keep our wetlands intact. They help to filter the water that goes into our rivers and, from there, the bay and the ocean.”

  “I understand that.”

  “I’m not proud of this, but I was offered 10K if I granted the permit for them to build there. Harrison Developers was going to make millions on the development. So I found a loophole and I pushed the permit through.”

  “Wow. Did you say ten thousand? That’s a lot of cash.”

  He nodded and wiped his forehead where beads of sweat had formed. “I know. It was dangled in front of me. I’ve had some financial troubles, so it looked like an easy way out.”

  “Who bribed you, Clifford?”

  “James Harrison.”

  “But James Harrison wouldn’t burn his own development nor would he bomb his own office building.”

  “I can’t help you there.

  “Why do you think you’ll die?”

  “They’ve been blackmailing me since then. Now they want to buy me off to assign them other permits that they want. They say if I don’t go along with their scheme that they’ll expose me.”

  “There’s a difference between being exposed and being killed.”

  “I told them I was going to talk. They said if I did, they would kill me.” He shook his head. “I don’t have a family. But I have to do the right thing. So when I tell my boss today, I fully expect repercussions—not just from the city, but from Harrison Developers.”

  “But James Harrison is in the hospital. How has he communicated all of this with you?”

  “He hasn’t. His ex-wife has.”

  “Lydia? Lydia is in on this?

  Clifford nodded. “Yeah, she’s in on it. Big time.”

  ***

  I spent the next hour sitting in my van outside of City Hall debating about what to do…and trying to recharge my energy.

  Should I share what Clifford told me with someone? Or should I continue to investigate his claims myself?

  My body ached, and I couldn’t imagine driving all over town today for this investigation.

  I stared at my bottle of pain relievers on the seat beside me, desperately wanting to take one. I picked up the bottle and shook it like a maraca.

  No, deal with the pain, Gabby. Think clearly.

  Clifford was going to die. I had to tell Parker. After last night, he probably wouldn’t take me seriously. But I had to talk to him.

  Just as I dialed his number, I saw four police cars pull up to City Hall. What was going on?

  “Gabby? Is that you?”

  I watched carefully as numerous officers rushed inside, nearly forgetting about Parker in the process. “It’s me.”

  “Where are you now?”

  I tol
d him about my conversation with Clifford.

  “Thanks for the information. I’ll look into it. By the way, there’s an update I need to tell you about, Gabby. I can say that you helped us reach this conclusion, thanks to some information you found out.”

  “Okay. What is it?”

  “We arrested James Harrison last night.”

  “James? Did he burn down his own development?”

  “No, he hasn’t owned up to that. But he did admit to having one of his men beat you up. He’s guilty of public corruption, racketeering, bribery and a whole list of other charges. We’ve had our eye on him awhile. Best of all, we found bricks of cocaine in some of his antique cars. He was going to make millions off of that.”

  “But he’s already a millionaire.”

  “For some people, money is like a drug. You can never have enough. He craved money and power. He had men to do his work for him and, in the process, he made a lot of enemies. Enemies who may have hated him enough to burn down that development or bomb his office.”

  Someone talked to Parker in the background. “Hold on, Gabby.”

  I waited, absorbing that new information. Wow. Was all of this really over? If it was, then where was Sierra?

  Parker came back on the line. “What about Sierra, Parker?”

  “He claims his innocence there, Gabby. We’re still questioning him, though. Listen, Gabby, one of my guys just came in and told me something you should know.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Clifford Reynolds just shot himself in his office.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  When I pulled back up to my apartment, I saw Pastor Shaggy waiting at my doorstep. I couldn’t ignore the anxiety I felt at seeing him. Would he tell me that I’d made a mistake by becoming a Christian, that I was a terrible witness to the name of Jesus?

  He stood as I approached. “Hey, Gabby. I hope you don’t mind me stopping by.”

  “I’m…honored?”

  He smiled. “I was hoping I could just have a few minutes of your time.”

  I contemplated saying no, but I’d already gotten myself in enough trouble and I didn’t want to add any more to the list. “Sure, how about we go up to my place? Is that okay?”

  “Absolutely.”

  We sat across the coffee table from each other. I rubbed my hands on my jeans, noticing they were sweaty. What was this meeting about? Would he ask me to leave the church he pastored, condemn me for all of my failures?

  He leaned toward me with his elbows on his knees. In that scraggy voice of his, he began. “I hope I’m not out of line here.”

  Starting with that sentence was usually the first sign that you were, indeed, out of line. I kept my mouth shut, though. “Don’t beat around the bush. I’m a big girl.” I didn’t feel like a big girl at the moment, though.

  “Gabby, I’ve known you for awhile now. What is it? Six months or so?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I’ve made an observation that I’m going to share with you. I want to tell you this because I worry if you don’t get past this, that you’re never going to be able to live life to the fullest.”

  I swallowed, my throat achy with emotion. What was he going to say? That the church wasn’t for perfect people, but I’d gone above and beyond and therefore, needed to leave? I wouldn’t blame him if he said that.

  “Gabby, you’ve got to learn to forgive.”

  I blinked. “Forgive?”

  “Yes. You have to forgive your dad for all the mistakes he’s made in the past, and you’ve got to forgive yourself for all of your mistakes in the past.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The truth nudged the edge of my reason, though. I just didn’t want it to come any closer.

  “I know you’re bitter about your father and the way he treated you for all those years. He’s a changed man, though, Gabby. Sure, he’s going to make some mistakes. We all do. But I’ve sat down with him. I think his sorrow is real. He wants to be a better man. He wants a relationship with you.”

  I tried to let that truth settle over me, but couldn’t. “He hurt me. How can I treat him with respect after the way he’s lived?”

  “That’s what forgiveness is about, Gabby.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  He shifted. “More importantly, you have to forgive yourself.”

  “For what?” What part of my past was he referring to specifically because there were lots of areas where I’d screwed up.

  “You have to forgive yourself for what happened to your brother. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “I was watching him.”

  “You were a child.”

  “It was my fault.”

  “Even if it was—and it wasn’t—he’s back now. He’s forgiven everyone involved in the situation. You have to let it go.”

  “I can’t,” I whispered. “I should have done more.”

  “You can’t save the world, Gabby.”

  I wiped my eye. “I couldn’t even save my best friend.”

  “You did everything you could. You almost got yourself killed in the process.”

  “I should have done more.”

  He shifted again, and I braced myself for whatever he had to say. “Gabby, do you know why your dad drank for all of those years? He drank to try and soften his guilt over your brother. That’s what can happen when you don’t forgive yourself. More importantly, Gabby, when you don’t forgive others or forgive yourself, you can’t fully experience the redemption that Jesus offers us.”

  I said nothing as I tried to process those words.

  “Jesus died to take away that guilt. He died to give us new life. If you continue to carry around these burdens, you’re going to ruin every relationship you ever attempt.”

  I sniffled. “You’ve been talking to Riley.”

  “He’s heartbroken, Gabby. He’s really worried about you and this obsession you have for finding out who killed Sierra.”

  “I don’t like it when people tell me what to do. I don’t. I know it’s wrong, but it’s just how I am.”

  “Riley isn’t trying to tell you what to do. He’s trying to protect you because he loves you.”

  I blinked. “Loves me? Did he tell you that?”

  “He doesn’t have to. I can see it in his eyes and I can hear it in the way he talks about you.” He clasped his hands in front of him. “Will you at least think about what we talked about?”

  I nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

  Pastor Shaggy left and I curled up on the couch in thought. Where did I even begin? Why did I have to acknowledge that there was truth in his words? I didn’t want to admit it. I wanted Pastor Shaggy to be wrong. But if I kept on the path I was on, I was going to continue in a downward spiral. I was going to end up like my dad. Maybe alcohol wouldn’t be my drug of choice, but would anger? Anxiety? Loneliness?

  Lord, I can screw up anything you give me. I seem to have a talent for that. Please, forgive me for not trusting you, for constantly trying to take things into my own hands. Help me to be a better person. Help me to let go of the vices I hold on to and learn to forgive others who have wronged me also.

  ***

  My soul felt empty—or was it renewed?—as I drug myself from my apartment. I guess the best way to describe my feelings were as depleted. Did one have to be brought down to size before they could grow, though?

  I had an interview to get to. Afterward, I was going to meet Chad at a job. I wouldn’t be able to help him, but at least I’d have someone to chat with.

  As I stepped outside, a figure rounded the back of my van. My senses went on full alert. Had my attacker returned to finish the job?

  I blinked. It was my stalker. I braced myself, ready to chase her.

  But she didn’t run. She stepped out and held up her hands. I remembered where I’d seen her. She was there on the night Harrison Developers had been bombed. She’d been holding a camera. Was she the same one who’d followed me that even
ing also?

  I stepped closer. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Megan.”

  “Why are you following me?”

  She swallowed somberly. “Because I… because I want to be just like you.”

  “Just like me? Why in the world would you want to be just like me?”

  “I read the story on you in the paper. You’re just so smart and pretty and you have so many adventures.”

  “Listen, you don’t want to be like me. Go and get yourself a college degree and get a normal job. I don’t want to burst your bubble, but what I do is nothing to write home to mom about. I clean up blood and guts…and, every once in a while, kitty poo. That’s it.”

  The girl swallowed. She couldn’t be more than a teenager. Was she in high school still?

  Her eyes shifted uncertainly. “I don’t agree.”

  “You painted those pictures?” I pointed across the street toward The Grounds.

  She nodded. “I did. I researched you. Everything’s on the Internet now, you know. I read about your brother. I saw your mom’s obituary. I thought you would like the paintings.” She shuffled her feet. “I guess I was wrong.”

  “I might have if they hadn’t been so creepy.”

  Her hazel eyes seemed to plead with me. “I wanted you to like me, Gabby.”

  What did I say to that? Part of my heart panged with compassion, the other part urged caution. “You’ve freaked me out. You’re the person following me.”

  “I’m one of them.”

  I arched an eyebrow. Had I heard that correctly? “One of them?”

  “Yes, there’s been another man following you.” She nodded so hard that her glasses bobbed down to the end of her nose.

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve seen him. Here’s the thing…I’m one of those people who no one notices. I’m a wallflower. I look ordinary. Nobody ever sees me.” Tears filled her eyes.

  I ignored the urge I had to give the girl a good hug. Blasted. Why did I have to feel compassion toward this girl who’d been making my life miserable? Why did she have to be near tears?

  “Who is he?”

  Before she answered, Tim, Teddi and my dad appeared from across the street. What were they doing here? Didn’t anyone believe in calling before they came anymore?