Suspicious Minds (Squeaky Clean Series, Book 2)

by Christy Barritt

  "It's a good thing no other customers are in the store then," Mrs. Mystery said.

  I remembered my investigative techniques class and all the extra lab work I was scheduled to do-I checked my watch-in forty minutes. Yet I was here, and Mrs. Mystery was here, and she was being forceful. Plus, I didn't want the woman to have to sell her typewriters. Heaven forbid she ever upgrade to a computer.

  The sales boy stomped to the back again. Thirty minutes later, he came back out with a stack of papers in his hands. "It looks like you purchased a new Xbox"

  "I would never-"

  I placed my hand on Mrs. Mystery's arm, urging her to remain calm and quiet.

  "Is there a time listed?" I asked.

  He flipped some sheets of paper. "Yep, 2:15"

  I glanced up. Saw a ceiling tile that wasn't really a ceiling tile. I bet a camera recorded each moment underneath. "How long do you keep your security videos?"

  "Two weeks. Why?" Realization appeared to strike the employee, and he slowly shook his head. "I'd have to get manager clearance for that"

  I nodded. "Okay. We have time. In fact, why don't you just send the manager out, and we'll talk to him ourselves"

  "He doesn't like to be disturbed. One employee got fired for bothering him" The teen shrugged. "He's a really busy man."

  "So is the person who's opened a false credit card account in this woman's name.

  He sighed. "If I get fired, you're finding me a new job."

  I knew of some portable potties that needed cleaning. I'd be more than happy to put his name in for the position.

  He returned with a man who could be his father. The old grump sighed and grumbled and mumbled excuses about why he couldn't show us the video. Finally, I leaned forward and put on my best stern expression.

  "Do you know who this woman is?"

  His eyes widened sarcastically-if that's possible. "Your grandmother?"

  I put my arm around Mrs. Mystery's shoulders-without flinching this time. "This is a famous mystery writer. She knows forty-three different ways to kill someone without the police ever finding out."

  Mrs. Mystery stepped forward and jabbed me in the chest with a pointy finger. "And she's a crime-scene cleaner, so she'll get the evidence cleaned up before the police ever know what happened"

  So Mrs. Mystery did know a little about me. Imagine that.

  I flashed a devious smile at the manager.

  "Plus, I'd hate for the police to find out about your little habit" I waved my hand in front of my nose. "Possession of marijuana could send you to prison, you know. I can smell the stuff a mile away"

  "Yeah, and she's dating the police" Mrs. Mystery nudged me and smiled.

  I lowered my voice, hating to break the news. "Actually, Parker and I broke up."

  "I'm sorry to hear that" Her voice took on a grandmotherly tone.

  "It's all good" I cut my gaze back to the manager and ditched the Chatty Cathy act. "So, how about it?"

  "Will you two leave me alone if I show you the security video?"

  We both nodded.

  "And you'll keep your mouth shut about the pot?"

  I didn't break eye contact. "As long as you cooperate"

  He harrumphed toward the back, motioning the two of us to follow with one wide sweep of his arm. Once in the office, he pointed to the TV/ VCR combo in the corner.

  "Have at it"

  I stared at the stack of unmarked tapes that formed a tower next to the TV. "Which tape is it?"

  "You'll have to figure it out. The date and time will be at the bottom of the screen"

  I sighed. I definitely wouldn't be making it to class tonight.

  Maybe not even tomorrow.

  "OKAY, THIS is the date. It looks like we just need to fast forward it a few hours" I hit the Forward button on the VCR and leaned back. This would take a while. It already had.

  This place had a bad vibe. Marijuana plant stickers covered almost every surface. I could still smell the pot the manager had been smoking, and a mask in the opposite corner had a bong sticking out from it.

  I found an odd comfort in having Mrs. Mystery with me.

  Like she'd be any help should trouble arise.

  Maybe she really did know forty-three ways to kill someone.

  "I didn't know that you and the handsome detective had broken up."

  I glanced at the elderly woman, sitting so pretty in the chair, and shrugged. "Yeah, it's not a big deal. Not really. We weren't meant to be together:"

  She nodded. "Because you're meant to be with Riley"

  I straightened. "I am?"

  "Everyone can see it"

  I shook my head. "No, Riley needs someone cultured and classy."

  She leaned so close that I could smell the plaque on her breath. "You don't even realize the treasure you are, do you?"

  Blood rushed to my face, and I pulled away from my neighbor-mostly to get away from the fumes. I didn't know what else to say, so I laughed. Chuckled, you'd probably say. Tried desperately to think of a response, preferably something sarcastic and witty.

  Nothing.

  "I'm serious, Gabby. You're a special girl. And I think you've yet to realize your potential" She patted my hand. Her eyes bored into mine so intensely that I had to look away.

  "Wow. Thanks," I mumbled.

  She sat primly on a metal folding chair with a Metallica sticker on the back, her purse resting securely in her lap and her ankles crossed daintily. "I was in love once, you know."

  I perked. Hearing her story could be a good way to spend the time. "What happened?"

  "I picked work over him."

  I stared at my neighbor, trying to imagine her as a young, dewy-eyed woman. The picture just wouldn't materialize, and I usually had a great imagination.

  "Tell me more. Please"

  "I was at the height of my career. I thought he was slowing me down. I thought if I married him, I'd have to give up my writing in order to have children and keep house. I couldn't bear the thought"

  "Couldn't you do both?"

  She shrugged. I could see sadness in her eyes. "Maybe. But I was prideful. I wanted people to recognize my name"

  Had people ever recognized her name? I'd yet to see one of her books in print, and I'd even checked Barnes and Noble once.

  "So you decided to keep writing mysteries?"

  She smiled, light returning to her eyes. "Romances"

  "I thought you wrote mysteries"

  "I do now. But I didn't then."

  I continued fast forwarding, watching as a blur of video swept the black-and-white screen. "Why'd you switch genres?"

  "All the romance in me died when Peter married someone else"

  My heart panged, and I paused from my video search for a minute. "I'm sorry."

  "I had some best-sellers, you know."

  I studied her face, realizing that I didn't have Mrs. Mystery figured out, after all. "I didn't. I'd love to see a copy of your books sometime"

  "I'm sure you've seen them before"

  "I don't think so"

  She smirked. "I write under a pen name."

  "Why?"

  "Because I like to live in anonymity."

  "Why?"

  "People might use me if they know who I am"

  I let the conversation sink in. Or I tried to let it. Really, her admission was too much to comprehend. Was she some kind of best-selling novelist? If so, why was she having money troubles? And she was afraid of her success buying her friends who were only using her position to climb some kind of ladder themselves?

  "Are you lonely, Mrs. Morgan?"

  "I have my characters to keep me company."

  "But they can't really keep you company."

  "I'm happy, Gabby. I've never preferred being around crowds of people. I like the simple life"

  So maybe her isolation wasn't isolation at all-maybe her aloneness was the solitude she needed in order to create her stories. Maybe the time helped her to recharge.

  She patted m
y hand. "Besides, I've got a great neighbor like you, don't I?"

  The blush came again. I looked at the screen, only to realize that I'd gone an hour and twenty minutes past the time I needed. I hit rewind and tried not to get caught up in replaying Mrs. Mystery's compliment.

  Or her proclamation that Riley and I were meant to be together.

  Or that I was special.

  I'd always wanted someone to tell me that.

  "You passed it again" She pointed to the TV.

  I went six minutes too far this time. I sighed. I had to pay attention.

  I hit play and began watching the video, waiting for the man or woman to check out.

  "I wonder if that's him." Mrs. Mystery pointed to a man in the corner of the screen. The manager appeared to be helping the man. I saw a big sign that said Xbox on the wall above.

  "I'd bet my bottom dollar"

  I could only see the man's back. I leaned in closer. The grainy picture reminded me of those cheap gas-station videos they played on the news when trying to find robbery suspects. No one could tell anything from the images. Invest some money and protect your business, people!

  "Turn around. Turn around!" Riley hated it when I talked to TV screens. Sometimes I did it just to get on his nerves. What did that say about me as a friend?

  I stared at the TV again. What would I do when I saw this man's face? Burn the image in my memory and search desperately throughout the area for the suspect? That would be like finding an animal by-product in Sierra's house. Impossible.

  I could inform the police, and maybe they would recognize the man. Doubtful, but it could be worth a try.

  The man on the screen bent down to tie his shoe, looked up at the manager, and then picked up the box. But he still hadn't shown his face. Only one minute until checkout time.

  Of course, the time on the camera and the time on the cash register differed by a couple of minutes. So I continued to stare at the man's back. At his not skinny and not fat build. At the T-shirt and jeans he wore. I got a glimpse of some glasses every once in a while. Finally, with the box in hand, he turned toward the register.

  I squinted. Leaned closer. Tried to get a better look.

  The man almost looked like ...

  I shook my head. It couldn't be.

  My face nearly touched the TV screen.

  Then I propelled myself back in my chair and shut my eyes.

  It couldn't be.

  I opened my eyes again.

  It was.

  "Are you okay?" Mrs. Mystery waved her hand in front of my face.

  I nodded. "I'm fine. I just need to get home and sort a few things out"

  "You're not telling me something."

  I hit stop on the VCR and ejected the tape. Then I shoved the evidence in my purse and motioned my neighbor to follow me. "I'll explain later. Let's get out of here"

  No one said anything to us as we walked out of the store. I'd show the tape to the police. Then I'd tell them who they needed to arrest.

  Inside the van, my cell phone rang. I saw Chad's number and answered.

  "Hey, I have a job for us. I'm there right now and hoping you can join me.

  "I might be able to get there tonight. I have to do something first"

  "Alright. But I'll object to the sixty-forty split if I do all the work myself."

  "Rightfully so" I tucked the phone between my head and shoulder, trying to concentrate on the traffic around me. "So, where are you?"

  He told me the address.

  I got off at the next exit and turned around. I had to go to this job pronto.

  MY VAN screeched to a halt in front of the familiar Ocean View house. I threw the vehicle into park and turned swiftly toward my prim passenger, who gripped her purse with bulging knuckles.

  "Wait here;" I instructed, keeping my voice firm.

  I didn't hear her response as I jumped from the van and hurried toward the house. I rounded the corner to the back yard and nearly collided with Chad.

  "Whoa! Where's the fire?"

  I sucked in a breath, glad to see my new business partner in one piece. I grabbed his arm with enough force to tear it off. "Are you okay?"

  He shrugged as if I'd lost my mind. "Yeah. Are you?"

  "Something's not right."

  "Is that what someone told you? Because I think you're, like, completely normal, Gabby." He grinned mischievously and nudged my chin with his knuckles.

  I scowled. "That's not what I meant. I mean, this house, the homeowner, the dead bodies"

  "If it will make you feel better, you can guard the crawl-space opening while I go in" He thrust a hose used for the mold-killing chemicals into my hands. "Use this to protect yourself."

  "This isn't funny. Do I need to remind you of the two dead people who've been found under there? I don't know why I didn't see the connection earlier" It couldn't all be a coincidence. It couldn't.

  "See what earlier?"

  I stomped my foot to emphasize my words. "This home is the link to the murders"

  Chad rubbed his goatee. Or maybe he hid another smile. I didn't care at the moment.

  "This abandoned home is the dumping site," he finally said slowly.

  "But what if it's not?"

  "You're totally not making sense." Exasperation crept into his voice, and his smile disappeared.

  "I just think we should go to the police"

  "That's not a good idea." The whiny voice belonged to neither Chad nor me.

  We both jerked our heads toward the sound.

  Bob Bowling appeared from the side of the house.

  With a gun.

  I couldn't pull my gaze away from the steely weapon. I'd felt what a bullet could do to a human body. I didn't want the same fate to rip through my muscles and bones again.

  "What's up with the gun?" Chad took a step back and held his hands in the air. In the process, he dropped the tank full of chemicals that could have potentially been used to protect us. Einstein.

  Bob pointed the weapon at me again, and I drew in a sharp breath. Please don't let him be clumsy. Please don't let the Doughboy be clumsy. One slip of the finger and ... I gulped. Couldn't think about it. Couldn't stop thinking about the feeling of a bullet ripping through my flesh again.

  "Why don't you ask your friend?" The sweat covering Bob's pasty face reminded me of pastry glaze.

  I shrugged, trying to play nonchalant. "I don't know what you're talking about. I just came here to do a job"

  "Don't feign stupidity. I heard your earlier conversation. I thought you might figure things out eventually." His hands trembled.

  The good news was that this man wasn't inherently evil. But the bad news was that he still was evil.

  "Figured what out?" I really hadn't figured everything out. I simply had some nagging suspicions. I needed more time to piece the puzzle together. And I really needed more time to stall and come up with a plan to save my life ... and Chad's.

  "I didn't kill him, you know."

  "I know you didn't, Bob. He ate one of your neighbor's cookies, not realizing that she used peanuts in them. When he went into anaphylactic shock, you panicked"

  Sweat poured down the man's forehead. He said nothing, so I continued, testing out my theory.

  "You couldn't call the police. If you did, they would find out that you've been stealing people's identities. You're the tie with all the ID theft I've heard about lately. You worked on Darnell's computer and accessed information about his entire fan club by hacking into his server. I didn't take you for a killer, but desperate times must call for desperate measures.

  "I had no idea the man was allergic to peanuts!"

  "How did he find out about you, Bob? How did Darnell know you'd stolen his identity?"

  He wiped his brow with his free hand. "Oh no, you don't. This isn't an episode of Scooby-Doo. I'm one bad guy who's not going to answer all of your questions while you stall for time"

  I held my hands-or I should say hand since my injured shoulder didn't allow
for much raising-in the air. Not so much in surrender though. More to say calm down, relax. Don't shoot.

  "I'm assuming that Darnell put two and two together. You worked on his computers, and members of his fan club were being hit with ID theft. So he tracked you down. You asked him to meet you over here to discuss things. What was your plan after that? If you didn't plan to kill him, what did you plan to do?"

  Sweat had once beaded on Bob's face-now it melted like a doughnut under heat.

  "I was going to pay him off." He let go of the gun with one hand and wiped his sleeve over his forehead. "ID theft is the perfect crime. It's nearly impossible to track down people involved with it. But Darnell started to blackmail me. I had to keep stealing money in order to pay him. I was going to offer him five hundred thousand dollars to be quiet forever."

  And Darnell was going to take that money and run, telling people he'd taken a gig in Vegas. "Killing him was the only answer," I muttered.

  "No! I didn't kill him. He ate that cookie. I didn't know." He pointed the gun at me again. "That's when I called you both. I couldn't forget about his body. I needed someone to discover it."

  The man continued talking. The more he talked, the longer I lived, so I wanted to keep him going. "And you shot him later, after putting some thought into it, to make his death look like a drug deal gone bad, right? What I don't understand is why you killed the mold remediation man"

  "He came inside my house to use the bathroom-without asking. He knew that Elvis had died here. He even asked me about it earlier. When he saw a package that had just been delivered with Darnell's name on it, I knew he'd figured things out. It was never supposed to get out of hand like this" His gaze darkened. "And now I'll have two more murders to add to my rap sheet"

  "Man, you don't have to kill us. We won't tell anyone" Chad tried to negotiate. The amateur. Didn't he know that never worked?

  But it did seem like a good option when your life was on the line.

  "Really, we won't tell a soul," I echoed.

  Doughboy chuckled. He pointed the gun again. "Get under the house. Both of you"

  I remembered the surroundings beneath the house. The smell of decay. The cobwebs. The snakes. I shuddered.