Christy Barritt - Squeaky Clean 07 - Mucky Streak (20 page)

CHAPTER 23

The first thing I did the next morning was to call Olivia, who was now a fashion designer in New York City.
I left her a message and three minutes later, she called me back. She sounded terse and suspicious, but that didn’t stop me from asking my questions. I needed answers ASAP because I feared the killer had been under my nose this whole time. I would not be played.

“Look, I’m investigating the Mercer family murders. Garrett claims you t
wo were together on the night the crime happened. I just need to confirm whether or not it’s true.”

There
was a long pause.

Finally, she
said, “Yes, it is.”

“When did you leave the cabin?”

“I don’t know. 10:30 or 11.” She sounded annoyed.

My back muscles tightened—not because of her bad attitude, but because if what she’d said was true, Garrett would have had enough time to make it back to his house. He may
not
have an alibi.

“You and Garrett
were dating back then?”

“
We were. That was a long time ago. We’ve spoken maybe three times since that night.”

“Like when you lost your baby?” I kept my voice soft, knowing the subject could be delicate.

“Exactly.” She said it like other people talked about getting rid of old clothing. “I told him what had happened, and we could both breathe a little easier and stop fighting about how to handle things.”

I already didn’t like her.
“Olivia, what did you do when you left Garrett that evening? Where did you go?”

“Home. Where are you going with this? I have a meeting with a team
of investors. I really don’t have a lot of time. I was simply curious about what you could possibly want to speak with me about.”

“
Just one more question: Did your dad catch you?” I asked.

“My dad
wasn’t even home when I got there, so you’re going to have to take my word for it. Please don’t tell me you think I killed the Mercers.”

“No, I
don’t. I’m just fact checking. Did you tell the police that your father wasn’t home?”

She snorted. “No, of course I didn’t implicate him. We both vouched for each other. The police never took it any further.”

I had nothing else to ask her, and I could tell she didn’t want to talk, so I said thank you and dropped my phone back on the bed. Olivia and Vic Newport had lied for each other. That left me feeling unsettled. That was the thing about liars—it was hard to believe a word coming from their mouths.

Also, t
he realization that Vic Newport wasn’t home sent up some red flags in my mind. Where would he have been at that time of night?

Perhaps
my conversation with Olivia didn’t bother me as much as finding those cellphones in Garrett’s car last night. He’d insisted he had no idea how they got there. That he’d been set up. After he dropped me off, he’d gone straight to the police station to report what had happened.

I wanted to believe him. I really did. But doubts lingered in my mind and I knew I needed to put some space between me and Mr. Rico Suave, as Jamie had called him.

I hurried through my morning routines and went downstairs, my head nearly ready to explode from information overload. Just as I hit the bottom step, the doorbell rang and I heard familiar voices downstairs.

“Detective Morrison! What a surprise to see you here,” Holly said.

“I was hoping I might speak to that P.I. who’s staying with you.”

“You mean Gabby? Let me see if—” She twirled around and spotted me
as I stepped into the foyer. “There you are!”

I nodded at Morrison. “
Good morning, Detective.”

He wore a fedora and droplets of rain were sprinkled across the rim.
“May I have a moment of your time?”

“More than a moment,” I assured him.

Holly extended her arm. “Come on in out of the cold.”

He stepped inside and Holly took his jacket, ever the polite hostess.
Droplets of water hit the floor, rolling off his coat.

“Sit down
for a while and let me get you some coffee,” Holly continued. “You need a warm drink on a cold, wet day like today.”

W
hile Holly hurried off to the kitchen, the detective and I settled in the living room. Detective Morrison perched in an overstuffed red chair, and I lowered myself onto a cheerful, flowered couch across from him.

“To what do I owe the h
onor of this visit?” I kept my voice light, trying not to sound pushy. But I couldn’t stand it any longer. Why was he here?

His weary eyes rested on me.
“I heard about the incident last night.”

“How’d you know I was there
when it happened? Did word get around town that fast?”

He pointed to the newspaper on the table in front of me. “Everyone knows it.”

A picture of Garrett and me with our arms around Margo, leading her from the hotel had made the front page. It was a very heroic picture, if I said so myself.

He cleared his throat.
“I realized I wasn’t very helpful the first time we spoke. Seeing that picture made me realize how serious you are. How serious this case is. I wanted to offer you any assistance necessary.”

“I appreciate that.”
The man had done a 180. I wasn’t going to complain.

Holly set down some coffee on the table beside him
, along with a plate of homemade cookies. I seriously didn’t know where that woman found the time to bake like that.

He let out a long breath.
“To be honest, not solving this case has not only tarnished my reputation, it’s affected my psyche. I vowed to solve this crime before I retired, and that never happened. I let the people of this city down.”

“Y
ou solved a lot of other crimes, got a lot of other bad guys off the street.”

He
raised a bushy eyebrow. “You been researching me?”

I shook my head. “No,
but the department wouldn’t have kept you as a detective if you didn’t. Besides, I can see that gleam in your eyes. That desire for justice.”

I
recognized the trait in others because I felt the desire so strongly within myself. When I met other likeminded people, I felt an instant connection with them. Maybe that was why I got along so well with Jamie and Holly.

“I was right about you. You are kind.” He took a sip of his coffee. “So, do you have any more questions for me?
I want this guy put away just as much as anyone else. Maybe more.”

“Maybe I could talk through the case and share what I’ve learned so far. I think I’ve ruled out two of my potential suspects.”

“Who were they?” Morrison asked.

“Marty Alvin, Cassidy’s boyfriend. His drug use would make people think he could be guilty, but he was in a—”

“In a car accident right before the crime occurred. We looked at him,” Morrison confirmed.

“I also have another suspect.” I hesitated before
announcing the next name. “Garrett Mercer.”

The detective
recoiled. “The son?”

“Correct. Was he a suspect?”

“Garrett? No, he wasn’t in town.”

I didn’t want to sell anyone out. I really didn’t. But … “Did you confirm that?”

The detective set his coffee down on the table. “He was at a party and didn’t come in until morning. Why are you asking?”

I stared at him a moment, contemplating my words. There was no need to hide things. I wouldn’t lie to protect a potentially guilty man.
Besides, I’d told Garrett if he lied to me again I would go straight to the police. Detective Morrison was retired which officially made him unofficial.

“Because Garrett was in town. He was having a rendezvous with a pregnant girlfriend at an undisclosed location.”

The detective’s eyes narrowed before he slowly shook his head. “Three coeds confirmed he was at that party.”

“They could have been too drunk to realize what time he left,” I argued. “He made an appearance. Garrett verified that.”

“Plus, we had camera footage of him at a gas station between the college and his house,” Morrison continued, staring off into the distance.

“He must have stopped there after meeting with Olivia Newport.
He said he drove around for a while.”

“What would Garrett’s motivation be?” the detective asked.

“Money. He stood to inherit a lot. That money helped him to start the successful business he has today.” The words left a bitter taste in my mouth. Somewhere along the line, Garrett had begun to feel like a friend, I realized. My loyalties felt torn between justice and friendship.

But he had an alibi.
Supposedly.

Holly shook her head. “I don’t know Garrett, but he doesn’t seem like the murdering type.”

“A lot of people who kill don’t,” I told her. “Here’s the other thing: Four of the P.I.s that Garrett has hired have died mysterious deaths, and now someone is after me.”

I told him about m
y phone calls with the Watcher, including the cellphones found in Garrett’s car.

The detective studied me for a moment. “Maybe we could put a tracer on your phone, see if we can pinpoint where those calls are coming from.”

“I thought about that. But this guy calls me from a different number each time. He’s using a new phone with each contact and disposing of the old one. Plus, the conversations are short. My gut is telling me he knows that he can’t stay on the phone long, just in case.”

“You may have a point. Have you considered that m
aybe someone is setting Garrett up?” The detective’s words echoed through the room.

I shook my head, unsure of anything at the moment. “Or maybe he really is guilty.”

“He wouldn’t have ruined his own gala,” Holly argued.

“The chlorine leak
happened after he finished talking. He stepped in the hallway to speak with me. Five minutes earlier, and he would have been in the middle of it.” I shook my head, battling my own doubts. “I’m not saying he’s guilty. But I’m not saying he’s innocent either. Which brings me to where I am now. Did you ever investigate Sebastian Royce?”

Morrison squinted.
“The name’s not ringing a bell.”

“He
owns Winners, the sports super stores.”

Recognition stretched
across his features. “That’s right. We questioned him. A peculiar man, isn’t he? He was never a suspect. Should he have been?”

“He left yesterday for Pennsylvania. Yesterday is when another P.I. on the case was shot.”

“Another P.I.? I’m not following,” the detective said.

I explained to him the string of deaths
associated with the case.

“You’re serious?” Detective Morrison said. “How did that get past us?”

“There was no one to connect the dots. Well, no one except Garrett and he pleads cluelessness. Said he had no idea. And, in his defense, their deaths occurred
after
they worked the case, at a point in time when Garrett had already lost contact with them.”

Morrison leaned back, a thoughtful look on his face. “How’d they die?”

“One was in a car accident. Another was shot while investigating a different case. The third drowned on vacation, and the fourth was just shot point blank.”

“Just shot?” Morrison asked. “As in, it just happened?”

I nodded and explained.

“That’s scary.” Holly
shuddered.

“I know. But I’m trying to make sense of all of it. Why kill the P.I. after I spoke with him? What sense does it make?” I shook my head.
“I still don’t have any good ideas.”

“Maybe whenever people get too close to the answers, they die,” Holly offered.

“Then why didn’t any police officers or FBI agents die?” I countered. I’d asked Garrett the same question last night, but it was worth raising again. “It’s only the people hired by Garrett.”

“You
raise some interesting points,” the detective agreed.

“Plus, there’s the fact—maybe I should call it a rumor
—that Sebastian borrowed money from the Mercers. A lot of money.”

“W
e never saw any record of that,” Morrison said.

“Edward Mercer may have had an offshore account. Some would call it an off-the-books account.”

“Now that’s interesting.” The detective rubbed his chin.

I nodded. “
Maybe he was planning something. Or hiding something. Funneling money away to pay someone off maybe?”

“Let’s not assume anything. I can talk to some of my friends on the force. It’s going to take a lot of time to get informatio
n like that. The legal process alone could take weeks.” He shook his head. “We could give it a shot, see what we could dig up. Follow the money, as they say.”