Clean Getaway (Squeaky Clean Mysteries Book 13)

by Christy Barritt

  “We realize that you and your team did a great job with this, but we just want to bring fresh eyes to the investigation,” I said, honing my diplomatic skills.

  “I welcome you to figure this out. You’ll have no competitiveness from me.”

  Good. I’d wanted to get that out of the way. Law enforcement could be so territorial at times.

  “Besides, you helped a great deal with that case over on Cemetery Island,” he continued. “I haven’t forgotten that.”

  I shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal, but I remembered that case well for more than one reason. Cemetery Island was the place where Riley and I had finally reconciled after breaking up. In a strange, twisted way, the location had a special place in my heart.

  And I would say I’d more than helped with it. I’d solved it for him, but I wouldn’t bring that up now. “I’m glad I could be of assistance.”

  He looked at Evie. “And one of my colleagues up in DC told me about a profile you did for them that helped put a serial killer behind bars.”

  “Walter Henley,” Evie said. “Yes, I was essential in solving that case.”

  I stared at her a moment, wondering if she realized how arrogant she sounded. When she made no apologies, I figured she did and let it go.

  “So, what can I do to help you?” Detective Hanson asked, lacing his hands across his abdomen. “We tried to explore every possibility, but nothing stuck. We looked at a murder/suicide theory. We wondered if it was a random crime committed by a stranger. Nothing panned out.”

  “It appears you had two main suspects.” Evie sat upright in the chair and had an all-professional tone to her voice. “Can you tell us more about them?”

  I inwardly groaned at the way she said it. Like she was above the detective. And she probably thought she was. But I wasn’t in the business of trying to change people, even though I wished she had more tact. Like, I really wished that, especially if I was going to be working with her.

  “As you’ve probably read, the two people we looked at were Emilio Perez and Mark Miller.” He ran a hand over his face. “Emilio was a migrant worker in the area. He left before we could question him, but rumor had it he was seen with Margie’s purse.”

  “How’d you discover that?” I asked.

  “The farmer who employed him mentioned it. He didn’t realize the truth at the time, but one of his workers later saw the news story on TV and put everything together. By the time police got there to confront Emilio, he was gone. It was like he disappeared into thin air.”

  “And who is Mark Miller?” Evie asked.

  “Mark Miller dated Margie in high school. He rolled back into town and tried to get back with Margie. That was the rumor, at least. Mark denied it.”

  “I assume you couldn’t find enough evidence for an arrest warrant?” Evie asked.

  “That’s right. In fact, his alibi was airtight. He was in Florida at some kind of conference for accountants.”

  “Is he still in the area?” I asked.

  “He just moved back two years ago. He’s been an upstanding citizen.”

  “How about Ray Franklin? Did you ever talk to him?” I asked. Jessie had mentioned him, and I needed to explore every option.

  “Ray Franklin?” Evie said, flipping through the folder as if she’d missed a question on her final exam. “Who’s he? He wasn’t in the file.”

  “I talked to Jessie earlier today, and she mentioned she overheard an argument between her father and Ray about a week before her father died.”

  The detective nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “That’s right. We did talk to Ray, and it’s true that he and Ron weren’t seeing things eye to eye, but we never found any evidence to say that he would have killed Ron. He didn’t benefit from his death in any way. In fact, he was out of a job, and he’d lost a friend because of it. We cleared him before he died.”

  “I want to know more about that ten thousand dollars,” I said. “You found out that information from financial records, I assume,” I said.

  “That’s correct. Margie came into the bank three days before she and Ron were murdered and withdrew the money from their savings account.”

  “How much was in the account?” Evie asked.

  “Only eleven thousand.”

  “So, she withdrew almost all the money they’d saved,” I muttered aloud.

  “That’s correct. And that’s a big deal for a couple like Ron and Margie, who lived paycheck to paycheck. The oyster market is up and down, so you have to put away some money for a rainy day.”

  “Did she get the money in cash?” Evie asked.

  “That’s correct.”

  “And we don’t know if Ron was aware that the transaction took place, correct?” Evie continued.

  “That’s correct also.”

  I shifted, trying to ease away from the firing-squad-like cadence of Evie’s questions. “Anything else of note?”

  He leaned closer. “I think you ladies are going to have your work cut out for you.”

  “I’m not opposed to working hard,” I said. “Me and Donna Summer. We work hard for our money.” I added a little “mm hmm” to match the song.

  He stared at me, his eyes showing a touch of amusement. That amusement quickly disappeared. “That’s good. Because there’s not a day that’s gone by that I haven’t thought about this case. I’d love to see the person responsible behind bars. You let me know if I can do anything to help you.”

  We left the sheriff’s department, and I traveled down the back roads of Northampton County, on our way to Jessie’s childhood home.

  “So, do you think you have a better feel for the case?” I asked Evie as the miles blurred past our windows.

  “I suppose. There are certainly some red flags. You know what the experts say. They say to follow the money.”

  “We have copies of their bank records.”

  “If we can figure out what Margie was doing in the days leading up to her death, maybe we can figure out what was going on.”

  “We can start there, but I think we also need to have some other ideas in mind. Any other theories on where we should start?”

  “That’s the question. You’re the field expert.”

  Evie had just called me an expert. I was surprised because it almost sounded like a compliment. That’s what I decided it was, whether it was how she meant it or not. “Well, I say we start by laying out a fleece.”

  “That’s a biblical reference.” An edge of hostility lined her voice.

  “Is there a problem with that?”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t say that. It’s just an observation.”

  I pushed on ahead. “What I’m getting at is that we don’t have any one suspect that stands out in our minds right now. Correct?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “So we continue gathering information until one person rises to the top of our list.”

  “And suppose no one rises to the top of this list?”

  “Then we’re in trouble.”

  “I’d say.”

  Irritation rankled me, but I tried to ignore it. “Well, let’s go check out Jessie’s childhood home. Maybe it will give us a feel for the family.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “I’m not sure what going to Jessie’s childhood home is going to prove.” Evie appeared halfway annoyed as she gave me a crescent-moon eye roll. “Is this really relevant?”

  “I just want to get a sense of the Simmons family.”

  “It’s been a long time. I’m sure things have changed at the house.”

  I gritted my teeth. “I can drop you off at the cottage if you’d like.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m already in the car with you. That would be a waste of time.” She paused. “You’re one of those intuitive people, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe.”

  It was funny because I’d always thought of myself as more fact-based. But maybe I relied more on my gut than I thought. I knew the gut was unreliable. I’d read studi
es on it. But my instinct still told me that there was more to instinct than people wanted to instinctually believe.

  A few minutes later, I pulled up to a little house located at the intersection of the Chesapeake Bay and some kind of creek. A pier and boat ramp stretched beside the property, and fishing equipment lined the edges.

  It wasn’t necessarily a pretty place. It was a workplace. The shoreline here was set up as a working man’s space. Though the house was for sale, someone was obviously using the site for a business.

  I stepped out, and the scent of the bay hit me. Sometimes, the smell was pleasant and comforting. Here, the smell was overwhelming and gag-inducing. It was the scent of rotting, half-baked sea life.

  As I expected, Evie turned up her nose at the place. “Well, it’s a place to live.”

  “I don’t suppose you grew up in a house like this.” No doubt she was above this kind of blue-collar lifestyle and upbringing.

  She stared coolly in the distance. “No, it was a five-thousand-square-foot house on the river.”

  “Must be nice. I grew up in a one-thousand-square-foot house in a neighborhood without sidewalks or a housing association.”

  She shrugged and said nothing.

  Thankfully, Hope pulled up at that moment in an old SUV with faded red paint and missing hubcaps. She hopped out, her purse flailing in the wind as she ran toward us, a flustered look on her face. “I’m sorry I’m late. I can’t seem to ever be on time, no matter how hard I try.”

  “It’s no problem,” I quickly assured her, jumping in before Evie began a lecture about how valuable her time was—along with a reminder about how everyone should be in awe of her Ivy League education.

  “Let me unlock this place.” Hope fumbled through her purse to find her keys.

  I took a moment to observe her. She was tall and thin with long, white-blonde hair. Very pretty, even if a bit insecure. She was dressed simply in jeans and a white shirt with some lace at the top. A well-worn lilac-colored sports jacket had been pulled over her arms.

  Finally, the lock clicked, and she pushed the door open. “Here it is. Feel free to take a look. Nothing has really been updated in years.”

  “Thank you.” I squeezed past her and stepped inside the tiny home.

  I stopped in the entryway, feeling like I’d gone back in time. No, the place obviously hadn’t changed much in recent years—decades, probably. Wallpaper covered each room, a peach floral design that was probably popular in the early nineties.

  The inside was darker than I’d expected, considering the home’s proximity to the water. But, unlike newer houses, there were no large windows or high ceilings. Dark molding around the doors and windows only made everything feel more dated and dim.

  Despite the recent neglect, I could tell that someone had once put a lot of love into this place. There were custom wood built-ins and carefully constructed dividers in the cutout between the living room and kitchen. A massive deck stretched out in the back, and I was sure someone had enjoyed many sunsets there.

  “Jessie’s bedroom was the first one on the left down that hallway,” Hope said, still appearing anxious and flustered. Her breaths were shallow, her actions quick and hurried, and her words clipped.

  “I’m going to check out the kitchen and deck outside,” Evie said.

  As she did that, I wandered down to the bedroom and paused. The walls were painted a light pink. Stars had been placed on the ceiling. The curtains were white and billowy.

  I walked around the perimeter and imagined Jessie as a little girl here. I imagined her mom and dad painting these walls with so much expectation and love of their little girl.

  This had once been a happy home, I realized. And, in an instant, everything had changed.

  “This is exactly the way it looked ten years ago.” Hope appeared in the doorway. “I remember having many sleepovers here. Jessie and I would sneak out and raid her mom’s chocolate stash at night. That’s when we were little. When we got older, we would sneak out that window and meet boys.” She frowned. “We should have stuck with sneaking the chocolate.”

  “I can tell her parents loved her very much,” I said.

  She nodded, her eyes filling with tears. “They did. I have no doubt about that. Sure, she thought they were overprotective. But it was because she was their little girl.”

  “What’s been going on with the house since they died? Why does it seem like it’s frozen in time?”

  “Jessie’s aunt and uncle bought it,” Hope said. “I thought you knew. At first, they were saving it. Probably for Jessie. Of course, they cleared everything out because they were afraid someone would break in. But Jessie decided a few months ago that she didn’t want this place anymore. It brought back too many bad memories. So they put it on the market.”

  “Any interest in it yet?” I moved down the hallway to glance at the rest of the house. Hope followed behind.

  She shook her head. “The market in this area is strange. Across the water, waterfront houses would go for hundreds of thousands. But they assess for much less than that over here. There’s often this battle between the sellers and the buyers and the loan companies.” She sighed. “Anyway, I’m new at this, but I saw a local company was hiring, so I figured why not? It beat working down at the pharmacy for the rest of my life.”

  “You’ve always been in this area?” I asked, trying to get a read on the community and the people who lived here.

  She nodded and swiped a hair behind her ear. “That’s right. Jessie wanted to get away, but not me. I like the slower pace of life. Honestly, after what happened to Jessie’s parents, I couldn’t imagine leaving my mom and dad. They’re my best friends.”

  Evie joined us. “Have you got enough of your feel goods yet?” she asked.

  I scowled at Evie, then flashed Hope with a smile. “This has been great. Thanks so much for letting us check this place out, Hope.”

  “It’s no problem. If you need anything at all while you’re here, let me know.”

  By the time Evie and I got back to the cottage, it was dark outside. I threw a frozen pizza that I’d picked up earlier into the oven, and Evie made a salad. We didn’t have much to talk about as we ate, other than a tentative plan for the rest of the week. Really, I mostly wanted to give Riley a call and see how he was doing.

  Yes, we were newlyweds, and, yes, I missed him.

  As soon as we cleaned up from dinner, I excused myself. Evie seemed fine with that, and she pulled out some kind of nonfiction book about the human brain and sat in front of the fire.

  I slipped outside for privacy. It was dark, but the moon was full and cast its light across the bay. I carefully made my way out to a deck on the edge of the bluff.

  There were no other homes within sight and the blackness around me did a number on my nerves. It was also cold and windy, which would be a hindrance. But I felt being outside would afford me the privacy I so desperately wanted.

  Riley answered on the second ring. “Hey, honey. How are you? I take it you made it there safely.”

  Warm goo filled my gut as soon as I heard his voice. “I did. We’ve gotten a good start to the investigation, but we’ve only just begun.”

  Apparently, I was channeling my inner Karen Carpenter. Who didn’t love her songs? They made you feel like you were on top of the world.

  “I’m excited for you. This is a great opportunity, and you get to do exactly what you were made for.”

  I paused on the deck and stared out over the peaceful bay. A home on the water sounded nice, like the perfect remedy for a hectic, stressful life. “I’m excited also. But I miss you. How’s everything at home?”

  “If by home, you mean a rundown apartment with old, sticky carpet and paper-thin walls, then fine. Everything is fine.”

  I frowned. The apartment we were temporarily living in was terrible. Not only that, but it had no personality. The complex was just a box filled with eight cookie-cutter living spaces with nothing unique about them. It had
square, boxy rooms, outdated appliances, and small windows. It also smelled like a mix of rotten food and Elmer’s glue. It wasn’t a good combo.

  “As soon as I get back, we can look at more houses,” I said.

  “I found a couple good leads. I’ll forward them to you to give you a chance to think about them.”

  “That sounds great.” I’d felt slightly guilty taking off when we should have been looking at houses. But I’d promised I’d focus on this, and I’d rearranged my work schedule. Thankfully, Riley was very understanding and supportive.

  “There’s one I really think you’ll like, but we may have to act fast on it.”

  “I’m intrigued.” This was the first time Riley had shown interest in a particular home, and we’d looked at quite a few. None of them had been just right. They were the wrong location or size or price.

  “Then consider this also. It has a white picket fence.”

  My pulse spiked. “Literally?”

  “Literally.”

  “I don’t need to see it. I’m sold. Let’s buy it.”

  He chuckled. “What if it’s a dump inside?”

  “It can’t be. Not if it has a white picket fence.” The idealistic part of myself reared its head.

  “You’re crazy.” He chuckled.

  “You’re the one who loves me, so that makes you even crazier.”

  “I can’t argue with that.”

  I was smiling still as our conversation faded into comfortable silence for a moment. I loved how easy it was for us to talk, to laugh, to connect. I hoped that never went away.

  “I love you, and I miss you,” Riley finally said.

  “I love you, and I miss you more.”

  “I’ll send you those listings, okay?”

  “I’ll be looking for them.”

  “Okay, talk later.”

  As I hung up, I couldn’t stop smiling. Until I saw a boat in the distance. It puttered by slowly, right in front of the house. A bright light swept the bay before stopping on me.

  I squinted against the blinding spotlight.