Clean Getaway (Squeaky Clean Mysteries Book 13) Read online

  CLEAN GETAWAY

  Squeaky Clean Mysteries, Book 13

  CHRISTY BARRITT

  CONTENTS

  Copyright:

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Also by Christy Barritt:

  Squeaky Clean Mysteries:

  The Sierra Files:

  Holly Anna Paladin Mysteries:

  The Worst Detective Ever:

  Carolina Moon Series:

  Cape Thomas Series:

  Standalones:

  The Gabby St. Claire Diaries:

  Complete Book List:

  About the Author

  COPYRIGHT:

  Clean Getaway: A Novel

  Copyright 2017 by Christy Barritt

  Published by River Heights, Kindle Edition.

  Cover design by The Killion Group.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  The persons and events portrayed in this work are the creation of the author, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “I have to admit that I expected my first case to take me out of town,” I told Garrett Mercer as we sat across from each other in his office. “To new and exotic places.” My voice dropped. “Or, at least, to just new places. I’d settle for the Deep South, though I was rooting for New England since I’d never been there before. Maybe not exotic, but it was different, at least.”

  “I know, Gabby.” Garrett’s British accent rolled through the air. “I did also, and I’m glad you’re prepared for that because I don’t intend for your work to be only local. But I felt strongly that this case was where you should begin this project.”

  Garrett had started a privately funded—also known as funded by him—Cold Case Squad and had asked me to head it up. I’d tried to think of a different, cooler name than Cold Case Squad.

  The Dead-End Division.

  The Baffled Inspectors Brigade.

  The Difficult Case Club for Peculiar Investigators.

  Dead Motives Society.

  None of them had stuck.

  I got to pick the team of my choice to take part in it. The only caveat was that Garrett got to pick the cases.

  I’d solved his family’s unsolved murders not terribly long ago, and that had apparently deemed me worthy of this task also. The two of us had become good friends in the process.

  The philanthropist was one of my biggest fans.

  “Tell me about this case.” I took a sip of my coffee.

  I’d put it in the contract that the team would get free coffee. It only seemed right since Garrett owned one of the largest organic companies on the East Coast. He was happy to oblige. So now I indulged in some new kind called kopi luwak that Garrett’s assistant brought me. I had to admit—it was delicious and oh-so smooth.

  He leaned back in his sleek wooden chair. The office around him perfectly matched his persona. There were pictures of Garrett in Africa, his face next to the faces of toothy children wearing dirty clothes and surrounded by a dusty landscape. An aquarium stretched against another wall, immaculately clean, filled with exotic fish. Awards for young businessman of the year and framed magazine articles hung behind his desk.

  All those things fit Garrett. He was handsome, rich, and down-to-earth. Some girl was going to be very lucky one day. Once upon a time, I was that girl, but I was quite content with my Riley.

  “As I mentioned to you earlier, Jessie Simmons works for me in the marketing department,” he explained. “Her parents were both found dead ten years ago up on the Eastern Shore.”

  The Eastern Shore of Virginia was a peninsula squeezed between the Chesapeake Bay and the Atlantic Ocean. It was mostly farmland dotted with various small towns and historical sites. I found the area pleasant, like stepping back in time.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I muttered.

  “Ron and Margie Simmons went out for a date night in Cape Charles,” he continued. “Jessie, their daughter, was only thirteen at the time, and she’d gone to a friend’s house for the evening. Her parents never came home. The next day, state troopers found her parents’ bodies in the water. Their pickup was located off the highway, no signs of any foul play or anything to give an indication as to why they’d pulled over.”

  I imagined the impact of that moment on Jessie, and compassion squeezed at me. No one should go through that, especially not a thirteen-year-old. “Were her parents into any sort of trouble?”

  “From what Jessie told me, absolutely not. She remembers them as a wonderful, loving couple. Her dad was an oyster farmer. Her mom was a homemaker. Both very blue-collar and simple. She was an only child.”

  In other words, she was alone after their deaths. In the blink of an eye, life had gone from full and secure to solitary and uncertain. “Where’d she go after they died?”

  “She moved in with an aunt and uncle who lived in the area. She said she had a good life. But, of course, she’s always wanted to know what happened to her parents.”

  “Of course.”

  “The rest of the information can be found in this file.” Garrett slid a folder across his desk. “Jessie said she’s available for anyone on your team to talk to at any time.”

  “Perfect.”

  “And here’s the check for this case. Do with it as you please.” He handed me the money.

  I saw the amount, and my eyes widened. “This is . . . generous. Very generous.”

  “I want to use my money to do good in the world. Your time and skill set is valuable to me. I know you’ll do everything within your power to find answers.”

  If only everyone had that much faith in me. “I’ll read the specifics of the case and then develop a plan of action.”

  “Weekly updates?”

  “I’ll give you hourly ones, if that’s what you want. I could do updates on my Twitter feed with hashtags and snarky memes. Maybe some Facebook Live. Whatever makes you feel like you’re getting your money’s worth.”

  “Unnecessary, but thanks for your willingness.” He flashed a smile.

  “I like to go above and beyond.”

  He sighed and leaned back in his chair, his long body stretched out and relaxed. His dark hair glistened with gel, and his eyes sparkled. “How do you like the kopi luwak?”

  I raised my cup and took another sip. “It’s really good. Impressively good, for that matter.”

  He smirked. “Your first time having it?”

  “That would be a yes.”

  “I thought you might hesitate.”

  “Why would I hesitate?” I took another sip, liking it more and more with every swall
ow. It was so earthy and smooth.

  He shrugged. “Some people take issue drinking coffee made from cat turds.”

  Coffee spewed from my mouth and across his desk. “What?”

  Certainly, I hadn’t heard him correctly.

  He grabbed a tissue and began dabbing at the spray of coffee on his things, acting unfazed and like the consequences of my reaction were worth the cleanup. “That’s what it is. I thought you knew.”

  “There are many things that I am. Cultured is not one of them.” I grabbed an extra tissue and dabbed my mouth, just to make sure there was no cat turd coffee left on my chin. When I got home, I’d be sure to use some Listerine or maybe gargle some boiling water.

  Garrett looked a little too amused for my tastes.

  “I really did think you knew,” he said, halfway apologetic.

  I let out a skeptical mm hmm, not sure if I believed him or not. It was too bad that kopi luwak was what it was, because I’d really liked it . . . for a moment.

  Garrett remained nonplussed as he took another sip of his drink. “How’s the house hunt coming?”

  That was just one more thing to appreciate about Garrett. Even though I knew he had a million more things to do, he acted as if he had all the time in the world.

  “Riley and I are still looking.” My brother had set up a meth lab in my old apartment, unbeknownst to me, and the whole building had gone up in flames. Thankfully, no one had been injured, but we were now homeless, so to speak.

  “Anywhere in particular?”

  “Norfolk still. It’s central, and Riley and I both like it here. It’s much more interesting than the suburbs.”

  “And your brother?”

  My gut twisted as my brother’s face flashed through my mind. “He’s doing some time. I’m hoping it will be good for him. But it’s complicated.”

  “Family usually is.” He sat up and glanced at his watch. “As much as I’d love to chat more, I do have a meeting in ten minutes. Let me know if you need anything, Gabby.”

  I stood. “I appreciate that. And I will.”

  The next day, I wrapped up an early morning workshop in Newport News and headed back to Norfolk so I could meet with Jessie Simmons.

  I’d arranged it so I would have a week off from my job with Grayson Technologies. I worked for them part-time, doing training seminars in my district and teaching law enforcement officials how to use equipment and technology developed by my company. Most of it involved forensics, the most popular being fingerprinting techniques.

  Anyway, I’d arranged to do this week’s workload and next week’s workload all next week. That gave me the next seven days free to work on this case. In the meantime, I had a million things to do before I left.

  Starting with meeting Jessie.

  She’d agreed to come to The Grounds, my favorite coffeehouse. I didn’t come here as much as I used to, not since my old apartment across the street had been destroyed.

  I parked in the lot beside the coffee shop and stepped onto the sidewalk, which was bustling with college kids headed to class and businessmen and women grabbing an early lunch. I paused, my former apartment building snagging my attention.

  Crews had already torn down the remains of my old home. I was sure the charred structure had been a public safety hazard. The lot had been cleared of everything but the cement steps that once led to the front door. Soon, another apartment building would go up. This one wouldn’t be an old house converted into several living units. There was no way a new structure could ever match the character of the former building.

  So many memories had been made there. It was where my best friend, Sierra, and I had bonded over our life’s passions and figured out the future together. Where I’d met Riley in the parking lot while trying to catch a wayward parrot. Where we’d lived after we’d gotten married. Package bombs had been sent there. Killers had broken in. Suspects had hunted me down. You know, all the normal stuff. Such good times.

  As I looked at the empty space, my heart lurched. I knew change was a part of life, but I just wished it hadn’t ended as it did.

  I shoved down my bittersweet feelings and stepped onto the wooden floors of The Grounds. Some indie artist sang an acoustic version of “Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah” on the overhead, and, at once, I felt at home.

  Sharon, the coffee shop owner, waved me over, and I met my blue-haired friend at the counter. Some months her hair was pink. Other times it was rainbow-colored. This month she’d picked azure.

  “Good to see you,” she said, swirling some frothy whipped cream on top of an iced coffee. “Every time I look out the window, I think about you. How are you doing?”

  “We’re living at a place over on 21st Street.” It was the simplest answer I could give her.

  “I know. I heard it’s a dump.”

  I shrugged. She must have been talking to Sierra.

  “Yeah, it is. But it’s only temporary.” I leaned closer. “Say, have you ever heard of kopi luwak?”

  “Cat poop coffee? Yeah, I’ve heard of it. It’s too expensive for this venue. Please don’t tell me you were going to request it.”

  I shook my head. “Oh, no. Definitely not. But I’m apparently the only one on this planet who hadn’t heard of it.”

  “Well, one pound is like three hundred fifty dollars last time I checked.”

  My mouth dropped. “No way.”

  She nodded. “Way.”

  “I’ll stick with my vanilla latte, but can I get it with coconut milk? I want to mix things up a little bit. I’m obviously stuck in a rut with my java choices.”

  “Your caffeinated wish is my command.”

  I sauntered over to a corner table to wait for Jessie.

  As I sat in the chair, I shifted, hoping I’d chosen my attire wisely. It was always a hard choice: more casual usually equated to more approachable but less professional. And the opposite was true also. I could earn respect by dressing professionally, but that never seemed to put people at ease. Unless they were also professionals.

  Choices, choices.

  Normally, I’d wear one of my snarky T-shirts and flip-flops. But there were a couple of problems with that, starting with the fact that it was January and freezing cold outside and ending with most of them consumed by the fire. Instead, I’d donned some Converse sneakers decorated with an awesome Wonder Woman canvas. Sierra had gotten them for me.

  I’d forgone the snarky T-shirt and made up for it by indulging in some snarky sayings on my key chain instead. Right now, a portion of it poked out of my purse, reminding me, “Sarcasm: Because Smacking People Isn’t Kind.”

  It wasn’t that I wanted to smack everyone—just those conniving people who preyed on others they viewed as weaker.

  I noticed Jessie right away when she walked in.

  I’d looked her up online, so I knew what she looked like. She had long hair that was a beautiful shade of auburn. It almost had a hint of mahogany. Freckles sprinkled across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. A wholesome smile, skinny legs, and a full-figured top rounded out her look.

  She also looked hesitant. Fearful. Like she might turn around and walk the other way. No, not walk. Dart away as if her life depended on it.

  Digging up the past was never a fun thing. It was painful, for that matter. Exhausting. Dirty. Skeleton-uncovering. Nightmare-inducing. But, in the end, the plan was to bury the past permanently.

  I stood and waved at her. A tense smile pulled across her lips as she started toward me.

  “You must be Gabby,” she said.

  “And you’re Jessie. Thanks for meeting with me.”

  She glanced around before sitting across from me. “I’ve never been here before.”

  “Well, their coffee isn’t GCI—” That was Garrett’s company—“but it’s pretty good.”

  Her hesitant smile widened. “I heard Garrett let you try some cat poop coffee.”

  My eyes narrowed. “I guess this was a joke around the office?”

  “I don�
��t think he intended it that way, but you apparently spit it all over his desk? He got a kick out of that and even talked about utilizing that kind of reaction for an ad campaign. He thinks millennials would love it.”

  Glad I could be a source of entertainment. “Yeah, well I looked up a picture of said coffee last night on the internet. That stuff is some serious turd-age.”

  I thought it would look like rabbit droppings or something. Instead it looked like . . . well, I won’t go there. Let’s just say it was gross and leave it at that.

  “Yes, it is. Don’t tell Garrett I said this, but I’m not a fan.”

  “I knew I’d like you.” My smile faded when I remembered the oncoming conversation. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Some black coffee would be great. I’ve never been one to add a lot of fancy stuff to my drinks.”

  “A cup of black coffee it is then.”

  When I picked up my own latte, I grabbed Jessie’s also—and paid for it, of course.

  As I took a seat across from her, I tried to prepare myself to pry into her past and possibly open old wounds with what I hoped was minimal damage. It was like opening a can of sardines—which was bad enough in itself—only to discover they were rotten. There was nothing pleasant about this.

  “I know this can’t be easy for you,” I started.

  She frowned but only for a moment. “It’s not. But it’s been ten years. Don’t be afraid to ask me whatever you need to ask me.”

  I leaned back and gripped the paper and pen in my hands. “Would you mind telling me about your parents?”

  A far-off look drifted into her eyes. “They were great. Salt–of-the-earth type of people, you know? My mom was a nurse, but she gave that up when I was born, and she stayed home with me. My dad was in the navy for a few years. When he got out, he farmed oysters. He had his own company. It was a small one, but he made a decent living. We didn’t have much or go on fancy vacations, but we were happy.”

  “No brothers or sisters?”

  She shook her head, nervously rubbing the edge of her hand-thrown coffee mug. “I always had the impression my mom and dad wanted more but weren’t able to conceive.”

  “What do you remember about the night they died?” I asked.