Clean Getaway (Squeaky Clean Mysteries Book 13)

by Christy Barritt

  I nodded, like he could see me. “Okay, sounds good.”

  But I really prayed this day would get better because so far, it was a doozy.

  The good news was that I knew what I had to do next.

  I had to get out of this hotel. I didn’t care if I ended up sleeping in a car or at a campground in the freezing temperatures. I just knew I wasn’t staying here even one second longer.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  I was able to set up a meeting with Steve and Shelli Watford at ten a.m. that morning.

  Evie was going to come with me, while Sherman stopped by the sheriff’s office to check out an old computer that had belonged to Margie.

  We all piled into Evie’s rental. My tires had been sliced and Sherman’s windshield had been shattered, so our transportation options were slowly dwindling. Thankfully, a company was coming out today to fix Sherman’s bullet damage. Until then, we were a one-car cold case squad.

  As we set out down the road, I could still smell the remains of Sherman’s breakfast on him. I wasn’t sure what he’d eaten—I hadn’t wanted to ask. But it smelled like something fried. I would guess it had been a biscuit from the gas station down the road.

  I hadn’t been able to eat anything this morning, but I had continued to sip my ginger ale. Later, I’d munch on some more crackers.

  My stomach was much better this morning, and my energy was slightly elevated. But I was still a long way from feeling normal.

  As silence fell around me, I thought about Evie’s profile. At least it was something more concrete to go on. But there were still several people who could fit her profile. I needed to keep that in mind.

  We dropped Sherman off at the sheriff’s office on the way to visit the Watfords. He was going to talk to Detective Hanson and see if he could have access to Margie’s old computer. He knew it was a long shot, but there could be retrievable information that would give insight on Margie and Ron.

  Then Evie and I went to visit the Watfords. The couple lived in a lovely house in downtown Cape Charles. It was everything I’d want in a home, almost reminding me of a fairytale gingerbread house with its eaves and trim details.

  Seeing it made me realize again how disappointed I was that my dream house had fallen through. That meant it was back to apartment living for me. It wouldn’t have been that bad if the apartment was nice, but it wasn’t.

  But none of that mattered right now. I had to conquer one obstacle at a time. Right now, I had to solve this case.

  Steve and Shelli met us outside. They were a lovely couple. Steve was super tall and thin, and Shelli was his opposite—short and plump. But the two somehow fit together. It was probably the smiles that they exchanged with each other. It was obvious the two were in love.

  “I wish I could stay, but I’ve got to run to work,” Steve said, kissing his wife’s forehead. “Shelli can answer all your questions, I’m sure.”

  “Have a great day,” I said.

  “I’ll be working on the water. What’s not great about that?”

  Shelli led us to an enclosed sunroom at the back of the house. It was a lovely space that smelled minty—spearmint plants, Shelli had told us.

  Bright rays of sunlight came in the windows. We settled on some wicker furniture, and Shelli served ice tea.

  It was a nice beginning to a hard conversation.

  “I understand you were best friends with Margie,” I started after some initial chitchat.

  Shelli nodded, instantly sobering. “That’s right. Margie and I met in nursing school.”

  “I thought she was a stay-at-home mom,” Evie said, a wrinkle between her eyebrows.

  “She was. We went to nursing school together, and she worked for one year at the hospital. Then Jessie was born, and she was done.”

  “How did Margie and Ron meet?” I asked. I’d heard they weren’t high school sweethearts, but I’d never really explored that question.

  “They went to school together, but never really talked that much as classmates. Ron went away and joined the military. When he came back, it was as if Margie saw him in a whole different light. She was smitten.”

  I smiled at their story—one that had begun so sweetly and ended so tragically.

  “They got married,” Shelli continued. “Those first couple of years were rough. He was deployed for six or eight months sometimes. Margie couldn’t stand that. But then Jessie came along, and everything worked out. He got out of the military and started farming oysters.”

  “Sounds like a nice love story,” I said.

  Shelli nodded, her eyes watery. She waved a hand in front of her face to dry them. “It was. They were a great couple. We were supposed to all go on a cruise together, you know. We’d been saving up for it. But they died four months before we were supposed to leave.”

  “I’m sorry.” I lowered my voice and leaned forward. “Look, I know these are hard questions. But I was wondering—you said you were saving up to go on that cruise. I assume Ron and Margie were also saving up.”

  She nodded. “That’s right. It’s the reality of living from paycheck to paycheck, I suppose. Course, in recent years, Steve and I have been able to do a little better for ourselves. We bought this place. But ten years ago, paying for a cruise was a big deal to both our families. Saving up for it required cutting out anything extra in our budget.”

  “We heard Margie withdrew ten thousand from her savings account,” I said. “Do you know anything about that?”

  Shelli’s face looked a little paler. “I heard that. I’m not sure what to say. She hinted that she’d had to make a withdrawal.”

  “Did she say why?” Evie asked.

  She cringed. “Believe it or not, she said she had some gambling debts.”

  I chewed on that a minute. It just didn’t jive with what I’d learned about Margie. “What did you think of that?”

  She snorted. “Margie? Gambling? I thought it was ludicrous.”

  “Did you tell her that?” I asked.

  “Of course I did. That’s what friends are good for, right? Speaking the truth. I told her she’d never gambled a day in her life. She said I might be surprised at some of the things she’d done.”

  Whoa. I hadn’t expected that one.

  “What did that mean?” Evie asked, her intense gaze on Shelli.

  “I have no idea. I wasn’t going to press her for answers. Not right then. I figured I had more time to do that and that the truth would come out eventually. Of course, that never happened.”

  Compassion squeezed my heart, and I lowered my voice. “What about Ron? Did he know about the money?”

  Shelli’s animated face slipped back into sober seriousness. “I know the two of them had an argument the day they died. I called Margie to get a recipe, and she was crying. She said Ron found out about the money. She and I were supposed to meet the next day to talk.”

  “The two of them went out for their anniversary dinner anyway?” As I asked the question, my phone buzzed in my purse. I wanted to check it and see who was calling, but I didn’t want to interrupt this conversation.

  I decided to let it go to voicemail. If it was important, the caller would leave a message.

  I secretly hoped it was Riley calling to tell me the other offer had already fallen through.

  “If they didn’t, Jessie would have suspected something was wrong,” Shelli continued, her expression considerably tighter than earlier. “Their world was all about Jessie.”

  “I see.” Most parents today would say that. When I became a parent one day, I probably would also.

  “They didn’t want to upset her. I texted Margie later, and she said things were looking up, so I assumed the two of them had made up. But that was all I knew.”

  Evie took a sip of tea, blanched, and then set the glass down. Apparently, it didn’t meet her standards. “Do you remember anything that happened in the weeks leading up to their deaths? Anything that would give you a clue as to what it was about?”

  Shel
li shook her head back and forth, her eyes still watery. “There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about it. I miss my friends so much. But I have no idea what was going on. I thought I had time to figure it out. I didn’t.” Her voice broke. “I so wanted Jessie to come live with me after Margie and Ron died.”

  That surprised me. “Did you try to get custody?”

  She nodded. “But they didn’t leave a will, so naturally she went to next of kin.”

  “Jessie seemed like she had a good life with her aunt and uncle,” Evie said.

  “She did, but at first it was uncertain. She hardly knew them. I suppose it all worked out, though. At least they finally stepped up.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “You know the families were estranged for so long. I wasn’t sure they’d be up for taking in their niece, especially since they didn’t seem all that interested in having kids themselves.”

  I shifted in my seat, wishing my tea was ginger ale. When would my stomach return to normal? I had to keep pushing forward.

  “What do you think about Ray Franklin, Shelli?” I asked. “Could he have been behind their deaths?”

  Evie thought the killer was still alive, but I wanted to ask about the deceased Ray Franklin anyway. Just in case Evie was wrong. I would never tell her that, of course. And she probably wasn’t wrong. If the killer was dead, then who was trying to scare us out of town?

  “I never got the vibe from him that he was dangerous. I suppose people—killers—surprise folks all the time. That’s what all the interviews on TV make it seem like. ‘Oh, he was the nicest guy.’ ‘He brought me soup when I was sick.’ ‘I would have never guessed he had this kind of evil lurking inside him.’ I’d say those same things about Ray. I suppose it’s too bad he’s not around anymore so you can question him. The answers may have gone to the grave with him.”

  “If you had to pinpoint someone as the killer, whom would it be?” I asked, sipping my ice tea.

  She pressed her lips together. “That’s a hard one. But Jarrod always made me suspicious. He was an area of strife for the otherwise happy family. Two weeks before they died, he said he was going to turn his life around, but he just kept doing drugs. Everyone knew it. Needless to say, his turned-around life didn’t last long.”

  “That’s what it sounds like,” I said, remembering everything I learned.

  Her face turned dark. “And I can’t prove it for the life of me, but I thought I saw him drive past my house on the night of the murder. He drove an old truck, and I couldn’t see the license plates. But I’ll go to my grave believing it was his.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  As we left, I couldn’t stop thinking about the murder of Ron and Margie. In the years following their deaths, things had changed. People had moved on. The unsub, as Evie called him, had slipped further into obscurity. Yet new information was coming to light.

  Maybe that was because people’s lips had become looser. Perhaps their memories were sharper now and, with time, their theories seemed more plausible.

  Or maybe outlandish ideas now seemed closer to reality as time had gone by with no answers.

  Had the police talked to the wrong people ten years ago? Had they not pushed hard enough? Maybe they’d been so focused on Emilio Perez and Mark Miller that they couldn’t see beyond those suspects.

  Since I’d started to investigate, I’d heard some information that should have come out years ago. Information about relationships and connections and people not mentioned in police reports.

  Maybe that information had been well-known. Maybe the police just couldn’t prove anything so they’d let those theories go. Or maybe outsiders could see things that others couldn’t because of their objectivity.

  Despite those things, I was beginning to feel like a silver sphere in a pinball machine that kept getting bounced everywhere. In the end, I hoped I still scored some points instead of coming up empty. However, that still remained to be seen.

  In the privacy of Evie’s car, as she drove to pick up Sherman, I checked my messages.

  Riley hadn’t called. My stomach sank. No updates there.

  However, Mark Miller had returned my call.

  Score.

  Even better, he was willing to meet with me. He left his address, said he would be home for the rest of the day, and I could feel free to stop by.

  Sherman hopped in the car with a hard drive in hand.

  “They let you take the computer?” Evie asked.

  He nodded eagerly. “They checked with my supervisor back in Kansas, who confirmed I was legit. At this point, they probably figured it couldn’t hurt. It’s just been sitting in evidence for ten years.”

  “That’s great news,” I said.

  “Once I get back to wherever we’re staying, I’ll really dig in and see what I can find.”

  “Until then, I just got a message from Mark Miller. He’s willing to meet with us. What do you think?”

  “I say, let’s go talk to him,” Evie said. “Maybe it will get us somewhere, unlike every other lead.”

  I typed Mark’s address into my phone as Evie cranked the engine. I couldn’t wait to have my own car back. I planned on calling the mechanic later today to see if there were any updates. My tires should be in by now.

  “So, did you guys learn anything?” Sherman asked.

  “Only that Shelli suspected Jarrod might be behind it,” I said.

  “We’ll take any data we can get at this point, right?” he said.

  “That’s right.”

  As the ride continued, each of us was silent, almost as if we were processing everything we’d learned.

  “Turn here,” I told Evie, pointing to an upcoming side road.

  She pulled from the main highway off onto a small country road. The road became even more deserted as the farms faded and woods surrounded us instead.

  Just how far away did Mark Miller live?

  Finally, we turned onto a gravel drive that should, in theory, lead to his home. If my GPS was correct, at least. Woods still surrounded the car, growing thicker by the moment.

  It sure was isolated out here.

  The first feelings of unease began to swarm in my gut.

  What if Mark Miller hadn’t really left that message? What if it came from the person who was trying to scare us off this case? And, yes, scaring us off was putting it mildly. Had he lured us here to finish us off completely? And had we been dumb enough to fall for it?

  I needed to be on guard.

  With every inch closer we became to our destination, Sherman’s face grew paler. His thoughts were echoing mine. Evie, on the other hand, remained as cool as ice.

  “All of my Spidey senses are telling me this is a bad idea,” Sherman said, sweat sprinkling across his wide forehead.

  “I feel like we’re driving farther and farther away from civilization,” Evie agreed.

  “I’m sure it’s fine,” I said, not even believing my own words. “There could be neighborhoods hidden out here.”

  Finally, the trees broke and a house came into view. Actually, it wasn’t a house. It was a church.

  An old, decrepit church with a crooked steeple and broken windows.

  Tall grass shot up all around it, a live oak tree that had been split in two guarded the building at one side, and a cemetery stretched toward the woods at the back.

  My churning stomach churned even harder. This time it wasn’t from food poisoning.

  I’d been around the block enough times to know this: there was no way I was going in that place. No way.

  “Don’t even put the car in park,” I said to Evie. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

  Her normally expressionless face showed a touch of fear. Her eyes widened; her lips parted; and her hands gripped the wheel harder.

  “I agree that this is creepy. Beyond creepy.”

  Just then, a shadow crossed the car window.

  I screamed.

  Evie screamed.
r />   I was pretty sure Sherman screamed also.

  When I looked up, a man was standing at my door, holding an ax in his hands.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “Get out of here!” I yelled.

  Ms. Cool and Composed Evie hit the gas—and promptly plowed right into a tree stump that had been concealed beneath the brush in front of us.

  My heart rate exploded. When I’d asked earlier if my day could get worse, I now knew with resounding certainty that, yes, it could get worse. Much worse.

  I went to grab my gun from my purse when the ax-wielding man appeared at my door again.

  I screamed again.

  Evie screamed again.

  Sherman screamed again.

  The man raised a hand—to break the window?

  As he did, I scrambled back, practically jumping in Evie’s lap. She laid on the horn and hit the gas again.

  We stayed where we were.

  We were stuck, unable to go anywhere.

  I glanced at the man. His hands were still raised.

  As I sucked in a deep breath, I noticed his motions—raised hands patting the air—were signaling for us to calm down rather than screaming “I’m about to kill you” in silent body language.

  “I’m Mark Miller,” the man shouted from the other side of the window.

  I stared at him, everything going still around me. In my head, I’d pictured the man as clean-cut and prom-king worthy. In reality, he had a scruffy beard and thinning hair.

  If he was really Mark Miller.

  “What do you think?” Evie rushed, her breathing shallow.

  “I still don’t know.” My thoughts pinged all over the place.

  Survival? Overreaction? Life experience playing out like Pavlov’s dogs?

  “He has an ax,” Sherman reminded us. “A sharp one. He could be inside this car in less than thirty seconds and kill us all in under ten minutes.”

  Well, now that he put it that way . . .

  I glanced at the man, who continued to wait for us. He was a very patient killer.

  “He put the ax down,” I whispered.

  What did that mean? What was he planning, and why hadn’t I grabbed my gun yet?