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

by Christy Barritt

  I nodded. “To say the least. Whoever did this did it on purpose. He or she wanted Riley and me to go over the edge of the road and crash into the river below.”

  “Any idea why?”

  “The only thing I can figure is that it’s because I’m looking into what’s happening at Mythical Falls. I’ve been asking questions, and maybe someone wants me to stop.”

  “Nate Reynolds’ date confirmed that he was with her from seven thirty to ten. They were out by Beckley, so there’s no way he’s guilty. We’re checking his car for fingerprints or other evidence of who may have borrowed it.”

  “Good to know.”

  “Marion Edwards told me about you.” He leaned back in his chair. “She said you have quite the reputation.”

  “Did she?”

  “She said you were really good.”

  I shrugged, feeling like I was breaking some kind of rule by not boasting about my talents. “I don’t know about that. But I’m determined.”

  “We were hoping to get some prints from the glove left at Caleb Kidwell’s crime scene. Unfortunately, the surface was too difficult, so we’re right back to where we started. Not many leads. Not many motives. The kid seemed like he didn’t have any enemies in the world.”

  I nibbled on my bottom lip for a moment. “There’s something you should know.”

  “What’s that?”

  I poured out the story about Nate hiring Caleb, as well as Franz and Tobs. I even mentioned the attack last night and handed over the Bigfoot “shoe.” The chief deserved to know what had happened. I certainly didn’t want to withhold evidence.

  “Why haven’t we heard about this before?” Chief Abel said.

  I shook my head. “People keep trying to convince me that it doesn’t have anything to do with Caleb’s murder. People are afraid they’ll look guilty. Other people are afraid Mythical Falls will shut down before it even opens.”

  “You did the right thing by letting me know. I’ll look into it.”

  I started to stand but stopped. “And about those fingerprints you mentioned . . . “

  “Yes?”

  “There’s this technique I train CSIs on for my job with Grayson Tech. It’s a substance almost like caulk, but it can get fingerprints from surfaces that were out of reach only a couple of years ago. It’s amazing. You should try it on those gloves.”

  He raised a thick eyebrow. “I wish we had that in our inventory.”

  I hesitated, but only slightly. “I actually have some in my car.”

  Thank goodness, I’d taken my supplies out of my trunk before I left to meet Augustine a couple of days ago. I’d actually taken everything out to carry some supplies from Loch Ness Lake to Area 51, and I’d needed all of my trunk space. If I hadn’t done that, I would be in a real bind right now.

  “I can’t handle the evidence myself, but I could show one of your techs how to use it,” I offered.

  He sat up and nodded slowly. “You’d do that?”

  “Of course. For the sake of justice.”

  “Let me go talk to my guys then.”

  “I’ll go get my supplies, just in case they’re interested.” I had packed all of my equipment for Grayson Tech into Riley’s car this morning. I let out another breath of thanks that I’d taken it all out before the trip that had ended with my car in the river.

  As I stepped out of the office and into the bright sunshine, a familiar figure at the curb caught the corner of my eye. The man stood by a yellow BMW coupe wearing a pressed suit and a frown. He obviously recognized me too because he stormed toward me with a fiery look in his eyes.

  “You’re not a consultant for Nate Reynolds,” Scotty Junior sputtered, raising a finger in the air. “You’re helping him.”

  I cringed. That was the thing about covers: it stunk big time when they were blown. To buy myself some time, I muttered, “Why would you think that?”

  “I saw you on the news. They said something about you being like Sherlock. A detective!” His nostrils flared. He was obviously taking this very personally. I’d blown his big plan to impress his dad.

  “The Sherlock thing was an exaggeration. A deep exaggeration.”

  “But you’re an investigator.” His face reddened, looking even more off color because of his thin golden hair that was slicked back from his face.

  I wondered for a moment if he wore his hair that way to make himself look older and more respectable. His slight frame and whiny voice didn’t exactly lend themselves to being powerful or authoritative.

  I remembered his accusation. “I’m only an investigator unofficially.”

  He looked behind me, as if he wouldn’t be outdone by me again. “But you’re leaving the police department. Do you think I’m stupid?”

  “It’s a long story.” And by that I meant both my reason for being here at the police department and my opinion of him.

  He crossed his arms, revealing an expensive-looking watch and well-manicured fingernails. “I have time.”

  I didn’t have to explain everything to him. Or did I? Did I owe him that much for my deception? It was such a thin line. “I’m just trying to find answers.”

  His eyes brightened. “Ah ha! You were deceiving me. But why?”

  “Can’t you see it?”

  “See what?”

  The conversation seemed to just keep going in circles. “If anyone has motive to shut down Mythical Falls, it’s your father.”

  His eyes widened and he took a step back, shaking his head. “He would never do something like this.”

  “He might if he wants the land bad enough.”

  “He doesn’t want it enough to do anything illegal.”

  “That’s what everyone says.”

  “He wouldn’t.”

  “No one buys the idea that he has to have that land to open his retirement community. There are plenty of other parcels he could go after. Why Mythical Falls?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. He says there’s something magical about the place.”

  “Sounds like mumbo jumbo to me.”

  “Well, it’s not mumbo jumbo.” He paused, as if he wasn’t quite sure of what he’d just said before recovering enough to finish the argument. “My father has always liked that property.”

  I stepped closer, maintaining eye contact and lowering my voice. “You’ve never asked yourself why?”

  Junior nervously stepped back and shook his head. “Just because he does. It’s a beautiful place.”

  “You married the woman who was engaged to Henry McClain.”

  His eyes widened again. If they got any wider, they might pop out. “So?”

  “Maybe you have something to do with all of this.”

  “Are you making accusations?”

  “I’m just making conversation.”

  “Debby is a wonderful woman. She mourned for years for what happened to Henry.”

  “Can I talk to her?”

  “Why would you want to do that? So you can find information that makes my dad look guilty?”

  No, so I could find information that made Junior look guilty. I kept my mouth shut. Of course. “I’m just interested in her perspective on what happened.”

  “She’s always believed it was a random crime.”

  “There’s no reason anyone would have wanted Henry dead?” Like maybe so he could steal his girlfriend?

  “No, why would they? Henry was a great guy. He’d just taken a job in Charleston, and he was about to leave this area.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You knew him?”

  “Of course, I did. He was my best frie—” He stopped midsentence, as if he knew how it would sound. “I didn’t have anything to do with this.”

  “Are you sure about that, Junior?”

  His cheeks reddened. “No one calls me Junior. And no one threatens a Stephens. We run this town.”

  “I’m sure you think you do.”

  “No, we do. I have the power to bring you down.”

  “But I do
n’t live here.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I can make your life miserable.”

  “Someone who’s willing to say something like that might be willing to kill to get what he wants or to impress his father. I’m beginning to think you’re the missing link here, Junior.”

  His face looked like it might explode. He leaned toward me, his finger in my face. “You have no idea what you’re saying, lady. You’re going to regret it. I’ll make sure of it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  By the time I got done with Junior and I retrieved the fingerprints for the police, I didn’t have enough time to swing by and talk to Marion. I was going to have to save that until after I finished my workshop.

  Excitement spiked my blood. As much as I might deny it, I loved being in the middle of a good mystery. At least, I did when things turned out the way I wanted them to.

  I still remembered Junior’s threats, though. Could he be behind what was going on? He was too slight to fill out that Bigfoot costume, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t somehow guilty in all of this.

  As soon as my workshop was over, I headed to Marion’s. It was past five o’clock, so I hoped she would be home. Part of me hoped she wouldn’t be, though.

  This was the worst part of my job: making accusations against people I actually liked and appreciated. People who’d treated me kindly. That’s why I had to be careful not to make it an accusation as much as an inquiry.

  I hesitated for a moment as I stopped in front of Marion’s house. A shudder of nervousness rippled through me. I just needed to get this over with.

  Gathering my courage, I approached the front door and knocked. Marion opened a few a seconds later. Her face lit with a smile when she saw me. “Gabby! I wasn’t expecting to see you here. Is everything okay?”

  “Hopefully.”

  She squinted a moment. “Come in then. Would you like to eat some dinner? We’re just about to sit down. Roast beef and mashed potatoes.”

  “That sounds delicious, but I’ll pass. Thank you.”

  Marion rotated her weight from one foot to the next. “Then come into the kitchen while I finish up and tell me what can I do for you. You look like you have something on your mind.”

  I cringed inwardly. “I was actually wondering if I could talk to Duke.”

  She blinked in surprise. “Duke?”

  I nodded. “It’s complicated, but I have a couple of questions for him.”

  She stared at me a moment before nodding. “Well, of course. Come on in and I’ll go get him.”

  I held my breath, hoping this wasn’t some kind of trap. That was the bad part about working on crime scenes so much—everything could seem dangerous and deadly or like a twisted game.

  A moment later, Duke appeared, looking just as big as ever. He was definitely large enough to be in that Bigfoot costume and sell the role.

  “Gabby.” He crossed his thick arms. “What’s going on?”

  I glanced at Marion and licked my lips. I really wished she wasn’t here for this.

  Lord, please give me wisdom. Give me the right words.

  “I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to jump in,” I started. “We had some security cameras installed at Mythical Falls. As we were reviewing some footage after the incident last night, I saw your picture, Duke.”

  He blinked with shock or surprise. “My picture?”

  Marion gasped. “Gabby! What are you saying?”

  “I’m not making any accusations. I just want to find out some answers. That’s why I came here instead of going to the police.”

  Marion looked at her husband. “Well, of course, you weren’t there last night. You were playing cards with your friends, just like you do every Wednesday evening.”

  Duke shifted. Uh oh. That was never a good sign.

  “Duke . . .” Marion put a hand over her mouth. “You weren’t, were you?”

  Duke frowned. “Truth is, I haven’t been in months, Marion. The games were getting out of hand with everyone taking their bets too seriously. I had to get out.”

  She draped a dishtowel over her shoulder. “But . . . where do you go?”

  He shuffled his feet. “I’ve always been fascinated with Bigfoot. I’ve been going out to Mythical Falls to see if I could spot the old guy.”

  “Duke . . . are you serious?” Marion leaned against the counter, as if she might collapse.

  He nodded. “Unfortunately, I am. I joined this online society, and I haven’t been able to get enough since then. Since the mines closed, it’s been hard not working. I need something to keep me occupied. Looking for Bigfoot seemed like a good idea, but I’ve become obsessed.”

  “You could have told me.”

  “I know how you feel about folklore. You think it’s ridiculous. So it became my little secret.”

  “Were you dressed in a Bigfoot outfit?” I asked.

  His jaw went slack. “What? No. I just go out there with my camera.”

  “And you were out there last night?”

  He nodded. “That’s right. I went out late. There’s less of a chance of being caught that way. Everyone knows about that hole in the fence that lets people get in and out easily.”

  “Have you ever seen anything?”

  “Not Bigfoot, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “How about something other than Bigfoot? There’s been a lot of crime going on there lately.”

  “There have always been a lot of legends about that property. Jebidiah Reynolds bought it from several families who once owned the land in that area. There were rumors of meteorites hitting the earth there and leaving ‘pieces of space dust.’ Legends of a fountain of youth by the waterfall. And, of course, stories of Bigfoot.”

  “But did you see anything last night? It’s very important. A college-aged boy was attacked. He almost died.”

  He cringed. “I don’t want to call names.”

  “Then don’t. Just tell me what you saw.”

  “As I drove down the road, about to park in that small lot, I did pass one other car on my way there.”

  “What did it look like?”

  “It was hard to miss. It was yellow and flashy.”

  Yellow and flashy? That sounded like . . . “Junior,” I muttered.

  He nodded. “That doesn’t mean he was there at Mythical Falls. But it does mean he was in the vicinity.”

  I nodded. It appeared that my suspect list was growing longer and longer by the moment.

  * * *

  “You’ve got some nerve showing your face around here again.”

  I’d wondered as I’d driven into Mythical Falls if word had gotten back to Nate that I talked to Chief Abel. Apparently, it had, and Nate looked madder than a hornet now. Gone was the laidback, outdoor adventurer, and in his place was . . . one angry Sasquatch.

  Riley stepped between us, his hands on his hips and fire flashing in his eyes. “Don’t talk to Gabby like that. You’re the one who messed up, Nate. If there’s anyone to blame, it’s you.”

  Nate narrowed his eyes, backing off only slightly. “The chief came out today and talked to me, like I could be a suspect in a murder investigation.”

  I raised my hands in innocence. “I didn’t suggest that you were guilty of murdering Caleb. But I had to tell law enforcement what I’d learned. It was the right thing to do.”

  His nostrils flared as he stared at me. “You have it in for me just because I said you were hot when we first met.”

  That was the most asinine argument I’d ever heard. “That’s ridiculous.”

  He raised his chin. “Prove it.”

  I threw my hands in the air, feeling like I was back in elementary school. My voice rose in pitch, even though I’d vowed to maintain a level head. “How am I supposed to do that?”

  “You said she was hot?” Clarice quipped from the couch.

  I ignored her. “Besides, the chief didn’t arrest you, did he?”

  Nate nudged his chin higher, reminding
me of a first grader. “No.”

  “If he really thought you were guilty, you’d be behind bars.”

  His shoulders slumped slightly—maybe with relief. “Really?”

  I nodded, feeling exhausted from this conversation. “Really. In the meantime, we need to find the real person behind these murders and assaults. That’s what I intend to do.”

  He blinked and brought his shoulders to his head in an obvious sign of cluelessness. “You mean, you want to help me?”

  “I mean: I want to find the real murderer. If that means I’m helping you, then, yes, I want to help you.”

  He let out a long sigh. “I need all the help I can get.”

  In more than one way.

  “How did things go today?” I asked, desperate for a change of subject. It was only when I asked the question that I noticed Chad sitting on the couch with his leg propped up and his ankle wrapped. That wasn’t a good sign.

  Chad winced as he set his leg on the ground and leaned forward. “All things considered, I think we got a lot done. We’ve pretty much finished all the cabins out in Area 51. The landscaping guys are going to come back tomorrow and finish up a few areas. The bathrooms are all working. All in all, we’re doing well.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  I glanced around again. Clarice gave me a death glare. Nate still paced. Chad looked downright exhausted.

  I couldn’t deal with any of this drama right now.

  “I need to unwind for a little while,” I finally said. “I’ll be on the back porch in case anyone needs me.”

  I stomped across the wooden floor and pushed open the screen door. It squeaked, just like always. And, just like always, the sound sent a chill down my spine.

  I couldn’t wait to be done with this job and go home. I wanted to drink a latte with Sharon, who owned The Grounds across the street from my apartment. I wanted to hear my radio-talk-show-host neighbor, Bill McCormick, tell me his crazy, extreme stories and viewpoints. I wanted to cuddle on my couch with my favorite blanket and relax.

  I nearly collapsed onto the wooden chair. My head was pounding, and this whole situation was beginning to get to me.