Christy Barritt - Squeaky Clean 08 - Foul Play (14 page)

CHAPTER
21

Garrett went to church with me the next morning
. I’d always known he believed in God, and I knew he had a lot of goodness inside him. I wasn’t totally sure he really got “it,” though—“it” being the gospel message. The brokenness of man. The desperate need for a Savior that required laying down your life and living with an eternal perspective. We’d had some good conversations, and I thought I’d seen some progress. I prayed that all of this was real for him and not just something he was doing to impress me.

After services,
we grabbed lunch at a nearby Italian restaurant. We never had finished our conversation that had started right before the SWAT team invaded his apartment. The officers had finally cleared us, but the whole incident had been disturbing on more than one level. By the time the SWAT team had left, Garrett and I were both exhausted. We’d skipped dinner and called it a night.

“What are you up to now?”
Garrett asked as we climbed back into his car after eating.

“I might
sit back and read some more stupid criminal stories. They always cheer me up.”

He sent me a sharp look. “You really don’t read those, do you?”

Should I admit that I really had taken up the reading habit in my spare time? “Actually, I do, but I’m not going to do that now, truth be told. I think I’m going to go talk to Rose’s brother. It’s Sunday, so there’s a better chance that he’ll be home and not working.”

“S
o you’re giving credence to this whole ghost thing?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m not. Not really. But I want to find out more. Plus, I want to know what his affiliation is with Zollin
Industries—if there really is a connection.”

“Sounds interesting. Mind if I tag along?”

“You really want to?”

“Sure. I wouldn’t mind seeing you in action again. I thought you were very charming on that last case.”

Though he said it with a smile, I knew the last case was hard for him, mostly because it involved the decade-old death of his family. “Then I’d love the company.”

Twenty minutes later we pulled up to an apartment complex in Portsmouth. The area was one of the rougher neighborhoods in town, so I was glad Garrett was with me.
I’d made enemies of one of the gangs that frequented this area, and a girl could never be too careful.

I’d found the address for
Peter Hines on the Internet. What did people ever do without it? I wasn’t 100 percent sure this was the right Peter Hines, but I was willing to give it a shot.

Garrett placed his hand on my back as we walked toward the
rusty metal stairs. Peter’s apartment was on the third floor.

I thought Garrett might look like a fish out of water in this area, but to my surprise he looked at ease. Which was only one more thing to admire about him. He was rich, but he cared about the plights of those with little to nothing.

I knocked at apartment 341 and waited for a minute. I had started to walk away and chalk this up to a wasted afternoon when the door cracked open.

“Can I help you?”
Gray eyes surrounded by wrinkled skin stared through the slit.

“I’m looking for Peter,” I said.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Gabby St. Claire and this is my friend Garrett Mercer. We just wanted to ask you a few questions about your sister, Rose.”

The door opened a little more, revealing a frail looking man. “Rose? Why are you asking about her? Nobody ever asks about her anymore.”

“I’ve been doing some work over at the old Oceanside Middle School and her name has come up quite a bit, actually.”

He stared at me more until finally the door opened wide. “Come in. Excuse the mess.”

“Thank you,” I told him.

We stepped into his apartment, which was surprisingly not messy at all. He pointed to a couch and instructed us to have a seat.

Garrett and I lowered ourselves on
to the old plaid sofa while Peter sat in a blue wingback chair across from us. He looked stiff and uncomfortable. “Why are you asking about Rose?”

“She was your older sister. Is that correct?” I started.

“That’s right. Six years older. Would have been 59 this year. Hard to believe. She was a wonderful teacher. Very passionate about theater. She really wanted to impress everyone during her first year at the school. I guess she left an impression.” He shook his head sadly.

“Did you have any doubts that her death was an accident?”
I asked, keeping my voice gentle.

“There are always questions
, especially when someone dies so young and so unexpectedly. There was an investigation, but no sign that anyone else was there at the school that night. It was just like Rose to work all hours of the night to make sure things were perfect.”

“Some people say that Rose is
still hanging around the school.” I waited carefully to see his reaction.

“That’s nonsense. Rose is gone. People just like making up stories.
Besides, Rose loved those kids. She’s not the type who’d try to scare students.”

Relief softened my shoulders. I hadn’t been sure what I would have said if he’d thought Rose’s spirit was still hanging around the place.

I shifted, deciding to move on. “I heard you work for Zollin Industries now.”

He nodded. “I do. Have for the past two months.”

“What made you want to work for them?”

He shrugged. “Paulette Zollin asked me herself. One day out of the blue. Offered me a decent salary. How could I say no?”

My thoughts came grinding to a halt. “Out of the blue, you said? You mean, you hadn’t even applied for a position?”

He nodded. “
That’s right. She called me and said she needed to hire someone and that my name had come to mind.”

Garret and I exchanged a look. Something sounded suspicious.

“What exactly do you do for Zollin Industries?” I asked.

“I work maintenance at the new Cultural Arts Center.”

***

After we left Peter’s,
Garrett and I sat in the car for a moment, heat blaring.

“What did you think of that?” I asked Garrett.

He shook his head. “Something doesn’t sound quite right, does it?”

“Not at all. Why would Paulette cold call Peter, of all people? What even put the thought in her head?”

“What are you thinking?” He put the car in drive and took off.

I pinched the
skin between my eyes. “I don’t know. I realize this sounds crazy, but I wonder if there’s some truth in the idea that Paulette is either insane or behind some of this. She did mention something about a therapist …”

“Just because someone sees a therapist doesn’t mean they’re crazy.”

“I know that. But something is not adding up, and I’m trying to figure out what.” My cell phone rang. “Speak of the devil …”

“Hey,
Gabby. I just wanted to let you know that your van is ready,” Paulette said. “You want to swing by and switch it out?”

“Sure thing.” Thankfully, I wasn’t too far away.
Garrett agreed to drive past her house.

“O
ne more thing I wanted to mention,” Paulette continued. “I got a strange email this morning. You’ll never believe from who.”

“No idea.”

“Donabell Bullock’s husband.”

My curiosity spiked.
There his name was coming up again. “Really? What did he want?”

“There was a bidding war on the property between him and Zollin
Industries. Obviously, we won. I hadn’t heard from him since then. Until today. He sent me an email that said, ‘You ready to sell yet?’ Isn’t that strange?”

“That is strange.” It almost sounded like he knew what had been going on at the school building.

The bigger question was: Could he be behind the vandalisms? Maybe there was an attempt to shut down the Cultural Arts Center so he could finally buy the property. It was something to consider.

“I
wanted to mention it to you,” Paulette said. “You know, in case it helped with your investigation.”

I
thanked her before hanging up and turning to Garrett. “You want me to drop you off?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding? I’m yours for the rest of the day. Besides, this whole case has gotten me curious now.”

Fifteen minutes later, we’d dropped off Garrett’s car, picked up the loaner from Paulette, and pulled up at her place. Paulette met us outside. Her eyes were red rimmed.

I really wished Roberto hadn’t planted the thought in my mind that she was crazy because now, whether I wanted to or not, I kept thinking about the possibility.
Evidence seemed to be mounting to confirm it was more than a theory.

“Hey, Gabby.”
Paulette smiled weakly and pulled her sweater tighter across her shoulders.

“Paulette, this is Garrett.”

She held out a hand, something flickering in her gaze. “I’ve heard of you.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Garrett told her.

She crossed her arms over her chest as a chilly wind swept across the lawn. “I’m sorry again about what happened to your van. The good news is that they don’t know what the fluid was underneath your van. It was probably just condensation.”

I wasn’t sure that was good news, but I nodded anyway. “Right.”

“The police have no idea who did it.”

Could Paulette have done it? I’d assumed Roberto was guilty. But if not Roberto then Paulette would make the most sense. She had slipped away for a few minutes—for long enough to do the deed.

“I appreciate you having the van fixed for me,” I told her.

“It was the least I could do, especially since you were just an innocent bystander in all of this. Divorce is ugly.” She frowned. “I don’t recommend it.”

Whenever I got married, I wanted it to be for life, no matter how hard the journey might be. My mom had stuck with my dad, even though he was a lazy louse for most of my childhood. I had to admit—I didn’t want that either. But one could never be certain exactly what life would hand you, good or bad.

“I also had the van detailed for you, by the way,” she continued. “I guess your AC was going bad, so I had that replaced, as well.”

“You didn’t have to do all of that.”

She shrugged. “I wanted to.”

“Thank you.” Gratefulness filled me.

B
efore I could gush anymore, my attention turned to a figure stepping out the front door. My eyes widened in surprise. Roberto? What was he doing here?

Paulette actually blushed for a moment. She pulled a hair behind her ear but offered no explanation.

Roberto came and stood beside her, eyeing both Garrett and me suspiciously. Garrett introduced himself and then a moment of tension stretched between all of us.

“Fancy seeing you here, Ms. St. Claire,” Roberto
finally said, narrowing his eyes at me.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” I mumbled in return.

I waited again for Paulette to say something or for her to ask him to leave. She did neither.

Finally, I cleared my throat, deciding that I should get down to business.
“Paulette, quick question for you. Why in the world did you hire Peter Hines?”

“The maintenance man?” she questioned.

I nodded.

“I heard what happened to his sister and felt terrible. I wanted to do something to help him. Of course.
He only works there a few days a week, during the daytime when no one else is here. Why?”

I needed more. “How did you hear about his sister? About Peter?”

“Arie told me.”

Arie just happened to mention it? That seemed suspicious within itself. “Then what happened?”

She pursed her lips and fine lines formed around them. “Then I did some research, I figured out what Arie said about Rose Hines was true, and I called Peter. It just made sense. Do you think I shouldn’t have hired him?”

The worry in her eyes made me second-guess my questioning.
“No, no. That was very kind of you. I was just checking. Thank you.” I supposed her explanation made sense—if she was telling the truth. “Let me just grab my stuff out of the trunk.”

I was going to miss this car, I realized as I circled around it. For just a few days, I’d imagined my life if I could afford a
vehicle like this. Sure, it was just a car. But I’d felt like a million bucks—quite the opposite of how I felt when I drove my white work van.

I
popped the trunk open and started to reach for my supplies.

What I saw there stopped me cold.

It was a costume—a nun habit like the one Scarlet had taken home from the show—as well as cans of black spray paint.