Thrill Squeaker: A Squeaky Clean Mystery (Squeaky Clean Mysteries Book 11)

by Christy Barritt

  “I can’t believe it,” Chad said. “You worked so hard to buy that car.”

  “Tell me about it,” I muttered, remembering all the extra jobs I’d taken. At least insurance should pay for this—eventually. I wasn’t sure what I’d do in the meantime.

  “I’m glad you’re both okay, though,” Chad said. “It could have turned out much worse. I just don’t get it, though. Why would someone do this?”

  I glanced at Riley. “It’s like Riley said: we must be getting too close to the answers. Since the scare in the funhouse didn’t deter me, someone decided to get more aggressive.”

  “But who would that be?”

  “That’s the question of the hour.” I sighed before drawing in a deep breath. “What did you guys do while we were gone? Did you make a lot of progress?”

  “Braxton finished rewiring three cabins. Clarice scrubbed them down. I finished putting up some drywall. By the way, I talked to your father. He might come this weekend and help us paint.”

  There was a time when I would have rebelled against that idea. But my dad and I had come a long way, in part thanks to his fiancée, Teddi. I’d learned to forgive and put the bad memories from a childhood growing up with an alcoholic father behind me.

  “I’m sure he’d appreciate the work.” I glanced around the exhausted looking group one more time and noticed someone was missing. “Speaking of which . . . where’s Nate?”

  Chad nodded. “He was here, but then he had to go into town again to meet with a client.”

  Something about his words caught my interest. “When was that?”

  Chad shifted, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t know. Around seven. Why?”

  Around seven? We’d been run off the road around eight thirty. The area where we’d been traveling was about an hour and a half from here. Was that a coincidence? “I was just wondering.”

  “I know you better than that. You’re still wondering if Nate is guilty.”

  I shrugged. “He may be the only one who knows exactly what’s been going on around here. He knew we left. He knew what we were doing when we left. He even knew we were in that clown house.” I straightened. “Speaking of which: Where was he when that psychotic clown started chasing us?”

  “He was with Clarice,” Chad said.

  I looked at Clarice. She shook her head. “No, he wasn’t. I was scrubbing baseboards while Braxton worked on wiring the cabins in Area 51. I don’t know where Nate went.”

  Wasn’t that interesting?

  No alibi. No alibi. You ain’t got no alibi.

  I did a mental cheer in my head, complete with pompoms and a cupie.

  “He wouldn’t do something like this,” Chad said.

  “You have to admit that Nate makes the most sense,” I said. “If I looked hard enough, I could find motive. Maybe he wants to bring attention to Mythical Falls. Maybe he’s hoping for an insurance payout. Who knows? But he was around here twenty years ago.”

  “He was only ten years old.” Chad crossed his arms.

  “Maybe it’s been passed down generationally, and his father started all this.”

  “Killing two people wouldn’t up the tourism antennae for the park,” Chad said. “Listen, Gabby. I really need you to lay off Nate. I know him. He’d never do something like this. If you keep pushing, I’m afraid I’m going to be the biggest loser here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nate could find plenty of other people to do this work. He could probably hire them for cheaper. I can’t afford to lose this job. So do me a favor and back off. Okay?”

  I stared at Chad a moment, desperately wanting to argue. But I didn’t. I had to respect his wishes here.

  Finally, I nodded. “Fine. I’ll lay off.”

  Until the evidence demanded I raise a ruckus.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  T he next morning, after everyone else got busy with their jobs, I sneaked away for a moment to check my phone. I decided to be the smart girl, and I brought Riley with me. As I reached the magic spot of cell reception—which really should be labeled as one of the park’s attractions—I had my bingo! moment.

  I found my cell signal, and I had a voicemail from Augustine asking me to call him back. Oh, boy, would I. I couldn’t wait to hear what he’d learned. Maybe I’d finally have a decent lead.

  “Here goes nothing,” I told Riley. I dialed Augustine’s number, and he answered on the first ring.

  “Just the person I was hoping to speak with,” he said.

  “You’ve got me curious. What did you find out?”

  “First, let me say that I agree with your initial assessment about the footprint. It’s not deep enough to support the weight that a supposed Sasquatch would carry. Plus, the impressions toward the center of the foot were deeper, which leads me to believe that the weight wasn’t evenly distributed.”

  A theory was already forming in my head, but I wanted to hear what else he had to say first. “Good to know.”

  “But, of course, there’s more. I tested the hair you collected. It’s synthetic.”

  I nodded, giving one of the Bigfoot figures in the distance a “take that!” look. He stared back with one eye and a grimace on his face.

  “I thought it might be,” I said.

  “I can test it further and try to match it to the exact brand, but it’s definitely a costume.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I suspected that someone was simply trying to scare us away this whole time—or to drum up publicity. This only confirms it. Thank you, Augustine.”

  “No problem. Let me know how everything goes. I saw a little news clip about what was going on. I’d like to say you looked good on camera, but . . . “

  I narrowed my eyes, but I knew he spoke the truth. “I know. I was caught off guard. After being trapped by psychotic clowns, what do you expect? It’s a long story.”

  He chuckled. “I look forward to hearing it one day. It seems like your life is full of adventures. You always have interesting stories, way more interesting ones than I have being in the lab all day.”

  “Full of adventure is one way to put it.” But he was right. I’d always thought I wanted to work in the lab, but I was so much happier out in the field.

  I hung up and relayed the conversation to Riley.

  He put on his thinking face—his contemplative “I like to give wise legal counsel” look. “So someone planned all of this. Maybe Caleb wandered into the middle of something—something illegal perhaps?—and someone killed him to keep him quiet.”

  “But then what about the money?”

  He slowly shook his head. “I haven’t figured that one out yet.”

  I frowned as my thoughts churned inside. Henry and Caleb both paid off with the same sum of money. Probably untraceable, if I had to guess. Whoever was behind this was too smart to cut a check.

  Riley and I had to be getting closer to the answers, though. Otherwise, why would someone be desperate to keep Riley and me silent? Would we be the next victims of this Bigfoot Strangler?

  The even bigger question I had to ask myself was: Who had the most at stake here?

  The answer seemed clear.

  “I wonder where Nate’s car is . . .” I muttered.

  Riley raised his eyebrows. “You think he tried to run us off the road last night?”

  “The likelihood is that the person who’s behind Bigfoot is also behind the other crimes that have been occurring around here. It’s worth looking into.”

  “I know he has more than one car. He’s mentioned them to me during his long, bragging homilies. I’ve only seen him driving his truck. Either way, he left early this morning.” He readjusted his legs, that lawyer look still present. “We’re going to dinner tonight with your friend, right?”

  I nodded, wondering where he was going with this.

  His eyes sparkled. “Then finding out exactly what kind of cars Nate has might be something to look into.”

  * * *

  While pest-contro
l people sprayed all of the cabins, the Squeaky Clean gang had moved down to the Loch Ness area to work on it. Thankfully, the day had turned out to be nice. The sun was out; the sky was blue; and the air felt warm. I’d even stripped off the flannel shirt I’d worn and tied it around my waist. The black T-shirt underneath was perfect.

  There were no cabins in this area—only two small bathrooms that were more like outhouses. Chad and Braxton were conquering them.

  Riley had been put to work fixing the railing that overlooked the waterfall while Clarice and I picked up trash from looters.

  Nate, of course, wasn’t back yet, so I hadn’t been able to talk to him. Before I shared my suspicions with Chad, I wanted to speak with Nate and give him a chance to explain himself.

  Clarice paused and stretched her back. She was always the pretty girl, even when cleaning up trash. Her hair was in a neat, perky ponytail. She wore her oldest designer jeans, a scoop-neck T-shirt that probably cost more than my leather coat, and loafers. “This is really beautiful, isn’t it?”

  I stared out at the waterfall. Mist rose up around it. The changing leaves, rich in orange, red, and yellow, made a beautiful backdrop, and the water almost had a greenish tint. The scientific side of me realized that the green probably came from algae, but, still, the effect was beautiful.

  “I agree. I’m glad this area will get some use again. It shouldn’t be hidden away.”

  Clarice snapped her neatly trimmed, pink-tipped fingers. “You know what Nate should do?”

  I shook my head, having no idea where she was going with this. I could think of a lot of things, none of which applied to her train of thought right now. Things like . . . Nate should abandon this whole idea. Nate should possibly go to jail. Nate should take classes on how to talk to women.

  Instead, I said, “No idea.”

  She spread her arms out wide, as if painting a picture. “He should advertise this place as a destination wedding area. People love stuff like that, and this would be the perfect location.”

  I thought about her idea for a moment and then nodded. “You know, that’s not a bad idea.”

  She spread her hand across the overlook again. “I can see it now. The bride and groom can stand there. The seats can be set up behind them, facing the waterfall. The reception could be right over here. People could string up some lights through the trees. Have a band over there on the patio.”

  I nodded again. She really might be onto something. “Getting people down here could be a challenge. The hill is kind of steep.”

  “You could provide transportation. That’s what Nate is thinking about doing. He’s going to widen that path and flatten it out some. He should be able to get a Jeep down the path with no problem. It would be the perfect solution.”

  Clarice and Nate had really talked this through, hadn’t they? Maybe there was more to their attraction than I’d given them credit for. “You should share your idea with him. I think he’ll like that. I think a lot of people could.”

  Not to mention the fact that she obviously had his ear.

  She beamed. She did that whenever someone complimented her. For years, she’d been known as the pretty airhead. It was good to see her coming into her own and feeling good about herself.

  “Nate’s really great, isn’t he?” She swooped down to pick up another abandoned can of soda and shoved it into a bag.

  “He . . . is. You two have seemed close lately.”

  “It’s been a lot of fun getting to know him. He’s got so much life inside him. So many ideas and plans. It’s invigorating to be around him.”

  I paused, an old fast-food cup in hand. When I saw all the ants inside it, I quickly tossed it into the trash bag. Ew. “You really like him, don’t you?”

  She shrugged and giggled. “Maybe a little.”

  “I thought you were dating someone else.”

  “You mean Steve? No, we just went out a few times. He may have been handsome, but he had terrible breath.”

  Clarice had a tendency to go out with a lot of guys “just a few times.” But at least she was being picky. That beat just committing to anyone who showed interest in her.

  “I see. I hope things work out.” I changed gears as I pulled an old shirt out of the underbrush. “By the way, you know that whole funhouse incident? Where was Nate when that happened? I figured he’d come when he heard over the radio what was going on.”

  She shrugged. “I dunno. Why?”

  I didn’t say anything, I just continued with trash pick up.

  She froze and her mouth dropped open. “You think he’s behind the whole clown incident, don’t you?” Outrage filled her tone.

  I shrugged, hoping she wouldn’t get too worked up over this. “I didn’t say that. I mean, why would he be guilty? For that matter, why would anyone do something like that?”

  Clarice shook her head. “Because they’re crazy.”

  I nodded. “Was he the one who called the news?”

  “No,” she said quickly.

  I slowed my movements. “Why are you so certain?”

  She shoved her tiny little chin into the air. “Because I did it.”

  “Why would you do that?” Outrage filled my voice this time.

  She busied herself with work and didn’t make eye contact with me. “We were talking, and I was telling him about you. I had one of those “ah ha” moments where I realized it was an opportunity for publicity. I’m not going to lie—it was a good chance to make myself look respectable. Nate was all on board. I almost didn’t do it, but then I realized it was great publicity for you too. Those reporters called you Sherlock.”

  I let out a long sigh. “I’m not Sherlock. And now I’m a target.”

  “Why would you be a target?”

  “Because someone thinks I’m going to discover them! It was right after that I nearly careened to my death off the mountain.”

  Her expression fell. “Oh.”

  I glanced at my watch. It was time for me to wrap up for the evening and get ready for dinner with Marion. Plus, it was a good excuse to finish this conversation before I said something I regretted.

  Besides, I couldn’t wait to hear Marion’s insight on everything.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “T urn here,” I told Riley, glancing at my GPS. We’d taken his car. Of course. All of that saving and working so I could buy my own vehicle, and now it was gone.

  The one thing I loved about Riley’s car, though, was the well-used Bible he kept between the seats. He had another one he took with him. But he always kept the brown leather one here, and in its pages were notes he’d written and insights he’d gathered. It was a great testimony of his spiritual life.

  “As you wish,” he murmured. “Are you going to confront Nate if he’s there?”

  I thought about his question for a moment. “Confront is a strong word. I really just want to talk with him. But first I want to see if there are any cars in his driveway. I need to know if he’s the one who tried to run us off the road last night.”

  And if I saw a clown costume in his backseat, I might pass out right then and there.

  A few turns later, we pulled to a stop in front of a red brick house sporting two columns that ran up both levels to the roof. A large porch, simple but neat flowerbeds, and a cheerful-looking American flag completed the scene.

  This was a pretty nice home for Nate. Of course, he had a nice job, and money must not be a problem for him since he was investing hundreds of thousands into Mythical Falls. Maybe he came from a wealthy family.

  “What now?” Riley stopped and put his car into park at the curb.

  I craned my neck for a better look. “I don’t see Nate’s usual truck here. I’m going to assume he’s not home. But I’d like to search the perimeter of the property.”

  “I’ll go too.”

  We climbed out and walked toward Nate’s. Rule number one for being nosy: Look like you know what you’re doing. For that reason, I kept my chin up and my hands tucke
d snuggly into the pockets of my black parka.

  We followed the driveway toward a detached garage at the back of the property. There were no cars back here or anything else that seemed out of the ordinary.

  “I want to check out the garage,” I whispered, stepping into the shadows.

  “Let’s go.” He put his hand at my waist as we hurried through the darkness. Dogs barked from a distant yard. Cars drove past. Someone rattled a trashcan.

  Even after knowing Riley for nearly three years, he still managed to send tingles up my spine. But that was something to think about later.

  Cautiously, I twisted the door handle. To my surprise, it opened.

  I pushed it just enough that Riley and I could step inside the space. I knew turning on the overhead light was a bad idea, so I pulled up my flashlight app on my phone.

  As a beam of light filled the room, my eyes focused on what was in front of me. Sure enough, two cars were in the garage. One was a classic Corvette that I could tell, even in the darkness, was well taken care of. There was something about the shiny coat and the spotless trim that made it clear this was a prized possession.

  “Nice,” Riley muttered.

  “Apparently Nate has a lot of expensive hobbies. Cars. Big-game hunting. Restoring ramshackle amusement parks.” Those were just a few of the things he’d mentioned since I’d met him.

  “Must be nice to have money to burn. If I had that much money, I’d do the same thing.”

  I moved beyond the red Corvette to see the vehicle on the other side. It was an old black Buick. My blood spiked . . . Could this be it? I skirted around the back, squeezing by a lawn mower and other equipment. Finally, I reached the front.

  My eyes widened. Sure enough, there was a dent in the front bumper. I leaned closer. Flecks of white marred the chrome.

  “Nate hit us last night,” I whispered.

  Riley shook his head. “I have to admit—I don’t know what to say. I didn’t think he could do something like this.”

  I took a few pictures and then we slipped outside. We needed to get out of here before Nate returned home. Otherwise, he just might finish the job he failed to complete last night. The big jerk. And that was putting it lightly.