Christy Barritt - Squeaky Clean 07 - Mucky Streak (5 page)

“I’m Lydia.
Whatever you do, don’t call me Mrs. Paladin. Even if you think I’m old enough for it, I don’t feel old enough for it.” She turned back to the table, pulling me with her. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla and coffee rose up to meet me.

I’d just stepped into a Norman Rockwell painting, I realized. Only a modern one. One that made an annoying longing well in me.
Remembering Riley, the ache deepened. I’d been close.

Lydia motioned toward Holly.
“Of course, you’ve met Holly Anna.”

“Just Holly is
fine,” Holly said with a slight roll of the eyes.

“Then there’s Alexandria
the Great,” Lydia continued.

A tall woman with dark hair and wearing a business suit fluttered her fingers in the air.
“Just Alex works.”

“And that’s Ralphie over there.” She pointed to a tall, exceptionally thin man wearing
round glasses.

“Ralph, Mom. Ralph,” he corrected.

Lydia didn’t seem to hear any of them. “Would you like some coffeecake? It’s Holly’s specialty. How about some coffee? I ground it up fresh this morning.”

Holly wasn’t kidding when she said her mom was all about hospitality. I felt swept away in a whirlwind
as I was whisked to my seat. In fact, I could only remember a couple times in my life where I was treated like such royalty. Before I could formulate an answer, Lydia had set a plate of yummy looking cake in front of me. The coffee appeared a second later.

My stomach grumbled in response. I hadn’t eaten since dinner yesterday.

I realized that all that was missing from this scene were some blue jays swooping in to place a napkin in my lap. Add the birds and I just might feel like Cinderella for a moment. “This looks great.”

“Holly Anna made it fresh this morning.”

I glanced at Holly and she shrugged. “It’s a recipe I found in an old cookbook from the fifties. The recipes from back then are actually much healthier and they use a considerably less amount of sugar.”

I’d never heard of anyone reading old cookbooks, but it worked for me.

Lydia reappeared. “Cream? Sugar?”

“Yes and yes. Please. Thank you.”
I threw them all out, hoping one would work.

She laughed. “I love your manners. Your
momma must have taught you right.”

If she only knew.
My dad had been an alcoholic, and to make ends meet my mom had worked two jobs, so I’d pretty much been left to fend for myself.

As if the moment could get any better, a dollop of whipped cream and some raspberries were sprinkled on top of my cake.

I met Holly’s eyes and read an apology there. Her family had big personalities, and she seemed reserved compared to them. Was it because she was the youngest? I’d guess she was the youngest by quite a bit. I couldn’t be sure.

I glanced around the table. “So … you all live here?”

They stared at me a moment before bursting into laughter.

“Not on your life,” Ralphie said.

“I would never live it down at work if I still lived with my mom,” Alex the Great added. “We meet the second Tuesday of every month for breakfast.”

That made a little more sense.

“So, I heard you’re a P.I.,” Alex the Great started. “Interesting.”

“I imagine
, as a D.A., you probably don’t have a high regard for the profession.” I took a bite of the cake and it nearly melted in my mouth.

“I wouldn’t say that. I’ve met some decent P.I.s in my time. As long as they stay out of my way, I’m fine.”

“The person who hired me is hoping my background in forensics will help me. We’ll see. I worked for the medical examiner for a while.” A while being about a month until budget cuts did me in.

“It would be
so wonderful if you solved the Mercer House murders.” Lydia shook her head sadly. “That crime has haunted this town for years. Such a tragedy.”

“How’s it
going so far?” Ralphie asked.

He was the one running for office, I remembered.
With his thick blond hair, glasses, and sweater vest, he almost reminded me a bit of the boy from
A Christmas Story
, only thirty years older.

I shrugged. “So far, nothing. I’m hoping the lead investigator will eventually call me back. I’d love to start with him.”

“You mean Detective Morrison?” Lydia asked.
She nonchalantly took a sip of tea, her lipstick leaving a bright mark on the edge of the delicate cup.

M
y eyes widened. Maybe Cincinnati was a smaller town that I thought. “That’s the one.”

“I know Tommy. He’s a wonderful man.
Rough on the outside, but a teddy bear underneath.”

“My mom knows everyone,” Holly whispered.

I nodded, just trying to keep up with the fast paced conversation. “Small world.” I wanted to beg on the spot for her to connect me.

She nodded again.
“I’ll call him and tell him you’re a friend. If you don’t mind me sticking my nose into your business, that is.”

I s
hook my head. “No, stick all you want.”

“You know, I should do that now before I forget. Excuse me a minute.”

She disappeared into the other room, her cellphone already at her ear.

“So, you know Chad?” Alex asked. Her voice was deep, tough. I wouldn’t want to go up against her in a courtroom.

I nodded. “We own a business together, so yes, I do.”

“
The crime scene cleaning thing, right?” Ralphie asked. “Fascinating.”

“Some might say.
It’s definitely not a career for the faint of heart.”

“I can imagine,” he muttered. “Some would say the same about politics.”

Lydia swept back into the room and handed the phone to me with a flourish. I hadn’t known the woman long, but I’d bet she did everything with finesse. “Gabby, someone wants to talk to you.”

Surprise ran through me. I quickly wiped my mouth, stood and t
ook the phone from her. “This is Gabby.”

“Gabby. It’s Detective Morrison. I unders
tand you want to speak with me,” a gruff voice barked into the phone.

I paced away from the breakfast nook.
“That’s right. I’m investigating the death of the Mercer family.”

“I’ve never gotten that case out of my mind. I have to tell you, though—we’ve had leading cold case investigators from around the world trying to solve this one. It’s been the subject of TV specials and even a cable miniseries. I’m not sure how much luck you’re going to have.”

Based on my past track record, not much. Despite that, I still said, “I’d like to give it the old college try, as they say.”

He paused. Hesitated was more like it.
“Okay then. I’ll give you an hour. Today at noon.”

“Great. Just name the place.”

He named a chili restaurant and said it was located down the street.

“I really appreciate this.”

“Anything for Lydia. She’s probably raised more money for the police auxiliary than anyone else in the city. We all owe her a debt of gratitude.”

I hit END and handed the phone to Lydia.

Her eyes sparkled. “Well?”

“He said yes. Thank you so much for your help.”

She waved a hand in the air nonchalantly. “I love connecting people. It’s what I do.”

“One of the
many things she does,” Holly quipped. “But you’ll like the detective. He’s a nice man. We were all sad to see him retire last year, especially with the stigma of not solving the Mercer family murders.”

“What kind of stigma are you talking about?” I asked.

“People accused him of blundering the investigation,” Alex interjected. “I never believed it. I think people just want a scapegoat. They said he focused too much of his attention on the tile guy. From there, the detective moved on to that killer in Missouri. Neither panned out, and no other new leads came to the surface.”

“
Failed investigation or not, he donated to my campaign, so he’s on my good list,” Ralphie added. He pulled back his crisp sleeve and glanced at his watch. “It’s quarter till eight. I’ve got to get to work. Sorry to run out on you.”

Alex
downed her last bite of coffeecake. “Me too!”

Lydia pulled some lipstick from her purse and reapplied it. “Goodness gracious. Where did all the time go?
I’ve got a board meeting across town.” She stuffed her lipstick back away. “Gabby, if you need anything at all, you let us know. Make yourself at home.”

And like three tornados joining together
to create a super storm, they swept from the room and out the front door.

I let out a slow breath and glanced at Holly.

She smiled sympathetically. “They’re a lot to take in, huh?”

I nodded. “You can say that again. And I don’t mean that in a bad way.”

“Oh, I totally understand. They’re great. If you want something done, they’re the people you want to talk with. They’re driven, type As, have detailed five step plans on how to organize anything, and succeed at everything they try.”

“Sounds like I came to the right place. B
y the way, why don’t you include yourself in that mix?”

She shrugged, a touch of sadness coming over her. “I was more like my dad. Laidback. A dreamer.
Idealistic. I like to take life at a slower pace and smell the roses. I always say I was born in the wrong era. I think my dad was the only one who understood that.”

I’d wondered where her dad was.
The past tense Holly spoke with made it clear. “I’m sorry. I lost my mom. It’s hard.”

“Yes, it is hard.” She frowned before pulling in a quick breath.
“The good news is that, since I have to take the next few days off or lose the time, and since I have always been fascinated with mysteries, I’m at your service.”

“Really? You wouldn’t mind doing that?”

“Not at all. In a way, you’d be letting me live a long buried fantasy of being Nancy Drew.”

I smiled.
“I’d hate to hold you back from doing that.”

“I actually have an idea for you, if I’m not being too forward.”

My curiosity was pricked. “No, please.”

She grinned. “Okay, here goes. Fasten your seat belt, though.”

CHAPTER
5

Holly
shifted and tapped a cotton candy pink fingernail against her snow-white coffee mug. “It’s like this: My friend is a part of this group of armchair detectives who like to try solving cold case files online. It’s kind of crazy sounding, but they’ve actually solved twenty some crimes. Not my friend specifically, mind you, but the hundreds of members in the group … she said to clarify.”

“Sounds fascinating.”

“I was hoping you might think that.” She glanced at her watch. “In fact, I thought I’d introduce you to her.”

“That sounds great. You’re all going above and beyond. I can’t help but feel like …”

“Like maybe God ordained all of this?” She smiled. “Me too. I’m a big believer that there are no coincidences in life.”

The doorbell rang.

Holly grinned and pointed toward the front of the house. “And right on time, here she is. She’s so punctual that you can set your clock by her.”

They were making my job too easy. At l
east all the excitement was taking my mind off the fact that Riley hadn’t called.

Except, t
hat thought had reminded me that Riley hadn’t called.

Poo.

Holly answered the door and ushered in a black woman with super curly hair springing from her head like rays from the sun. “I’m Jamie. You must be Gabby.”

I extended my hand. “So nice to meet you.”

She had a laptop tucked under her arm and a curiously mischievous expression on her face. “I love cold cases. But as soon as I heard you were investigating, I wanted to help. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Help is always good. Can’t you tell me a little bit about what you do?”

“We’re an organization—unofficial—and we like to stick our nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“I like you already.”

She snapped her fingers. “I know, girl. I always say, blessed are the nosy ones for they find things out. Important things.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“I haven’t solved a crime yet, but I will.” She pulled open her laptop on the breakfast table. She typed in a few things and a moment later a website popped up. “So, this is what we do. My friends and I post information on cold cases—mostly missing persons or unsolved murders. We have thousands of visitors to our site every day.”

“
Thousands?”

She nodded. “Our total reach so far is four million.”

“Enough said.”

“You know it. Everyone
wants to be an armchair detective, you know? People scour the Internet, and it’s amazing how word spreads, especially now thanks to social media. We post one thing online, people share and then friends of those people share it. The message gets passed along at an amazing pace. The few cases we’ve helped solve have been because someone has recognized a picture. They would have never seen that picture without our help.”

“Sounds both practical and amazing.”

“Girl, we’re totally on the same wavelength.” She gave me a fist bump.

“Right on.” I
tapped into my inner soul sister.

She began
pattering away. “Okay, I’m going to start simple. I put together the basic information on this case, and I’m going to post it later today on our website—if that’s okay with you. It’s all been posted before, but I’m going to start recirculating it.”

I nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

“I’ll ask people to post it around and see if we can discover any other information. We get a lot of false leads, but sometimes there are major payoffs.”

“Payoffs are good.”

“If you need me to do any kind of online research for you, just let me know. I’m available. Don’t tell anyone, but I’m also pretty decent at hacking into systems, if you know what I mean.”

“
I may have to take you up on that online research.”

Jamie
pointed from Holly, to me, and back to herself. “I’m thinking we could be like the MOD Squad. One black, one white, and one blonde. What do you think?”

I laughed out loud. “It’s a definite possibility.”

“I can scour the thrift store for some old bell bottoms,” Holly offered.

“I’ve already got the afro.” Jamie pointed to her hair.

I laughed again. “You could be on to something, but …” I glanced at my watch. “We’ll have to talk more later. Right now, I’ve got to get to my meeting.”

“I’ve got to run, too. Gotta do an interview for an article I’m writing.” Jamie waved goodbye and scurried out the door.

Holly gave me directions to the chili joint, and then I grabbed my purse and stepped outside. I rounded the corner where I’d parked and I stopped in my tracks.

The tires of my rental car were slashed.

I walked closer and bent down to examine each one. What in the world? Was that impending feeling that someone was following me
not
my imagination? I’d briefly thought that maybe Garrett had hired someone to tail me, but it wouldn’t make any sense for Garrett to pay someone to do this.

With a sigh, I stood and went back inside the ho
use. Holly looked up in surprise. “That was fast,” Holly said.

“My tires were slashed.”

Holly’s mouth gaped open. “No way. I mean, this isn’t the best area of town, but stuff like that doesn’t happen that often. I mean, never before to us. Unless getting egged once counts.”

“I’m going to need to call the poli
ce, I guess. But I’ve got to meet the detective. He only had a short window of time.”

Hol
ly stood. “I’ll take you. We’ll call the police when we get back.”

***

I settled down in an ordinary looking restaurant in a not so great part of town for some Cincinnati style chili—a sweet tasting meat sauce served over spaghetti noodles and topped with handfuls of shredded cheddar cheese. Though I hesitated at the idea at first, when I tried it, I actually liked it.

But I liked the fact that I was able to meet with the detective even more.

Detective Morrison was a trim man in his sixties. He still had a head full of gray hair. His face was squarish and slightly wrinkled and his eyes contained a certain world-weariness that I’d seen before on too many law enforcement personnel who’d been worn down by the cruel reality of how heartless people could really be.

He
ordered what was called a four-way chili because it also had beans, a large diet soda, and a side of garlic bread. Holly opted for a salad.

“Thank you for meeting
with me,” I started when we all had our food.

“An hour,” he reminded me.
He cast me a tired glance while still bent down toward his food.

I got the message: H
e was doing this as a favor. Certainly, a lot of people had knocked on his door over the years, trying to track down information on the case. I was sure he had better things to do.

“Understood.” I pulled out my pad of questions, so I could take notes.

“Got your notepad, huh?” He looked amused and maybe even skeptical.

I offered a half shrug. “I left my trench coat and magnifying glass in the car.”

He stared at me for a moment then a chuckle emerged, growing until it became a full out laugh. “I like that.” He rubbed his cheek. “That’s a good one.”

A moment of relief filled me. Maybe I’d gained his trust. For once, my smart mouth had worked in my favor.

His smile dipped, and he reached into his wallet and opened it. He slid something across the table to me.

A
picture of the Mercer family.

“This case haunts me every day. I try to let it go, but it’s hard.”

“I can’t imagine,” I offered.

“
It’s like this. Everyone thinks they can find something I missed, ride in like a knight on a white horse and save the day by solving the case.” He shook his head and leaned back in his chair. “Look, I welcome someone else to solve this case. I do. It’s not that I’m being prideful. I couldn’t sleep for years when I thought about what had happened to that family. I even had a new alarm system put into my own house because I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to have something like that happen to my own family.”

I had a feeling he felt like a failure when it came to this case. The community had been counting on him to put a killer behind bars and it hadn’t happened.
Law enforcement could be like that, taking on the burden of unnecessary guilt. I could spot that disease a mile away, mostly because I struggled with it myself.

“I’m not going to pretend to be a genius. I’m not. Nor am I going to pretend like I think I can solve this
,” I started. “Garrett Mercer hired me, so I’m going to give it my best shot. The fact is that we’re all in this together, whether we want to be or not.” Great, I’d taken to quoting musicals without even trying. I hoped the detective didn’t notice the
High School Musical
reference, and think of me as young and immature. The singsong inflection I’d added wouldn’t help my case.

The former detective drew in a long, deep breath before meeting my eyes again.
“The person who did this needs to be found. They need to pay for the damage of their actions. The crime was horrific. No one should get away with an offense like that.”

“I agree. You were the
original detective on the case?”

He nodded. “I was. Of course, I had other detectives help out. The FBI got involved
. Even when they took over, I couldn’t stop looking for answers.”

“What wa
s your gut reaction to the case?”

He
sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Whoever did the crime was someone with a mission. They knew what had to be done. There was planning involved. The whole family was home—minus Garrett. But it was unusual for the family to all be in the same place. All of their lives went in different directions, kind of like bystanders fleeing from ground zero. They may have been a family, but it was in blood only.”

“What do you mean?”

“Elizabeth and Edward looked like a picture perfect couple in photos. But their marriage was a turbulent one.”

“Sad.”
Garrett had mentioned something about his dad being unfaithful.

“Too often a reality.” He shook his head. “Anyway, even the daughter seemed to be something of a lone ranger. She was involved with clubs at school and hung out with her friends. My impression was, after interrogating people close to the family, that her parents didn’t parent very much. They were too caught up in themselves.”

“I suppose even when you look at the crime scene, you saw a little of that, right? The dad was watching TV, the mom was in the kitchen, the daughter was in her room upstairs.”

The detective nodded.
“Exactly. I doubt the daughter even heard anything happen downstairs. Her radio was blaring.”

“Is there anyone you’d wished you’d investigated, but that you didn’t have a chance or means to pursue?”

He shook his head. “If I had even an inkling that someone might have been involved, I questioned them. If I had even a hint that someone wasn’t telling the truth, I re-questioned them. As far as I’m concerned, I left no stone unturned.”

“I see.
What about Arnold James, the man who committed an eerily similar crime out in Missouri?”

“He didn’t do it. The thing about most killers—killers like Arnold, who’s a true psychopath in my opinion—is that they want people to know who they are, to discover them. They’re twisted like that. They want the fame that being a murderer brings. If Arnold had done it, he would have owned up to it. Besides that, there’s the logistics. He was seen in Missouri on the morning the Mercer family was killed. There’s little chance he could have made it here in time, especially when you consider the planning that went into this crime.” He shook his head. “There’s just no way.”

“What about the man who did the tile work inside their house? I know he passed away, but do you really think he was innocent?” I finished the last bite of my chili, my stomach full and satisfied.

Detective Morrison
sucked in a long breath. “He was my best lead. I really thought he could have done it. He even had a criminal history of abuse, but we could never prove anything. His wife claimed that he was at home that night. We tested his hands for gunpowder, his clothes for blood. There was nothing.”

“Just one more question. About Edward Mercer. I’ve heard rumors of his liaisons. Did you talk to the women he was involved with?”

He nodded. “All of the ones we could round up. More and more kept coming out of the woodwork. Believe me—we thoroughly questioned each of them. We came up with nothing.” He wiped his mouth. “The truth is that all of the people you just mentioned were our best guesses. The problem is that the whole case felt like a guessing game, and that’s the shame in it all. No one should get away with murder.”