The Scum of All Fears: Squeaky Clean Mysteries, Book 5 Read online

  He waved his hand in the air, looking like someone who didn’t have a care in the world. “Nah, I’m good.”

  Riley and I did our secret glance thing.

  “All righty then,” Riley said.

  I’d never heard him do an Ace Ventura impression before.

  From the way Riley flipped his keys in the air, I could tell he wanted to argue. But he didn’t, and I appreciated that fact.

  Fifteen minutes later, we pulled up to an office building with a sign that read “Alexander Dentistry.”

  “You’re at the dentist?” Tim asked, peering between the two front seats.

  I nodded. “Told you it wasn’t exciting.”

  “How about if I just wait in the car?” He grabbed his foot and started examining his yellow toenails.

  I wanted to barf. Instead, I nodded. “Sounds like a plan.” A much better plan than Tim coming inside with us. He was a bit of a wild card, and I never knew what to expect. That wasn’t always a good thing when you were talking to potential killers.

  Even once we were alone, Riley didn’t say anything about Tim. I thought he might express his real opinion or question my decision, but he didn’t.

  Besides, we had bigger fish to fry at the moment. Tougher steaks to sizzle. Rottener vegetables to vet.

  I paused outside at the front door. The cars in the parking lot were reflected in the glass panels comprising the front walls of the building. I slowly turned.

  “What is it?” Riley asked.

  I pointed to a white sedan in the distance. “Milton Jones sped away in a white sedan.”

  “You remember the make and model?”

  I shook my head. “I wish I did. It was dark. I could barely make out anything.” I closed my eyes, picturing the scene again, but no details emerged in my memories. Mostly what I remembered was the fear I’d felt at the moment. Pure fear, unlike any I’d felt before, and I’d been in some sticky situations.

  “So, someone else was driving, right?”

  I nodded. “That’s right. Maybe it was Stephen Alexander.”

  We stepped inside. I’d dressed conservatively today, despite the heat outside. I’d worn my best gray slacks and a silky purple button up top. I looked respectable and neat.

  Riley wore his normal khakis and a soft blue golf shirt that brought out the colors in his eyes. If only I had time to simply stare into his gaze.

  A receptionist greeted us. She was middle-aged with short brown hair and a heavy-set build that seemed to come on all too often past fifty. She wasn’t overly friendly, nor was she rude. In a word, she was professional.

  She nudged a clipboard toward us. “Go ahead and sign in.”

  “We don’t have an appointment,” Riley said.

  “How can I help you then?”

  I let Riley take the lead. I knew this case was burning inside him. It was rare that we both had so big a stake in an investigation. This time, his investment might be bigger than mine. “We need to speak with Dr. Alexander.”

  “He’s got a full docket today I’m afraid. You’ll need to make an appointment. Are you having a dental issue?”

  Riley was polite and cultured; he wouldn’t want to cause a scene. I, on the other hand, didn’t mind. “It’s actually about that woman who went missing. Clarice Wilkenson.” I said it loud enough that several conversations in the waiting room quieted.

  She stared at me for a moment before snapping back into professional mode. “I’m sorry. Maybe you should speak to him about personal issues somewhere more neutral. This is his place of employment.”

  I leaned closer but didn’t lower my voice. “Time is of the essence. We know he went out on a date with her on the night before she disappeared.”

  The receptionist gasped and glanced behind us, probably soaking in the shocked faces of the patients waiting to be served. “I don’t know about that. But I’m going to have to ask you to lower your voice.”

  I spotted a man in a lab coat, like a dentist would wear, in the room across the hall, just beyond the receptionist. I didn’t hear the squeal of a drill or the whirl whirl of a fancy toothbrush. I hoped Dr. Alexander could hear me. That was the whole point of my obnoxiousness at the moment.

  “With every second we waste, Clarice could die,” I said. “This really can’t wait.”

  The receptionist gasped again. Okay, maybe I shouldn’t be going for the shock factor, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

  Apparently, I had a lot of desperate times in my life because I used that saying way too much.

  That last statement did the trick. The man in the lab coat popped his head out of the room in the distance. “I’ll talk,” he muttered, simultaneous to scowling at me. He popped off his disposable gloves and stepped into the hallway. “Come back to my office. And please, keep your voice down.”

  We walked into a standard looking office. I quickly took in his decorations. Plain brown desk with a calendar spread across the top. Degree from Ohio State University on the wall. A picture of Dr. Alexander with a woman who looked nothing like a sister—not with the way their arms were wrapped around each other—on the bookshelf.

  No wonder he wanted me to keep my voice down.

  “To what do I owe this visit?” He laced his fingers together and set them on the desk, almost as if trying to appear older and more experienced than he actually was.

  “I think you already know the answer to that question,” Riley told him. “Clarice Wilkenson.”

  Splotches of red appeared all over the man’s fair-skinned face. “I don’t know what you’re—”

  “Don’t bother to deny it, Doctor,” I interrupted. “We have multiple witnesses. Let’s not waste any time here.”

  He sighed and leaned back. A sprinkling of sweat scattered over his forehead and his breaths seemed to come more quickly. “Yes, we did go out on a date.”

  “How’d it go?” I asked.

  He did a half-shrug, half-nod. “It was okay.”

  “Why were you talking about Milton Jones at the coffeehouse?” I continued.

  The red on his face deepened. “It’s what everyone all around town is talking about. That’s why. People are talking about the Tides’ winning season, about the weather, and about Milton Jones. There’s no guilt in that.”

  I nodded behind him. “Who’s the girl?”

  He tugged at his collar. “My girlfriend, Stacey.”

  “Does Stacey know about Clarice?” Riley asked.

  Dr. Alexander shook his head. “No, of course not. Stacey is still in Ohio, finishing up her last year of college. We only see each other once a month or so, if that.”

  “Tired of the long distance thing?” I asked.

  “It’s not my choice. It’s a little lonely around here. I met Clarice and thought she’d be good company. I’m still trying to figure some things out since I moved to this area.” He narrowed his eyes. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

  “You from Ohio originally?” I asked. This was not a sign that long distance relationships couldn’t work. Nope. I wouldn’t believe it.

  He tugged at his collar. “No, I’m not. I’m from California. I figure as persistent as you are you’ll find out that information eventually anyway, so I might as well be forthcoming.”

  Riley leaned forward. “Why’d you move here, of all places? Why not stay in Ohio or move back to California?”

  “There are more opportunities to make more money.” He shrugged. “That’s it.”

  “No other reason?” I just didn’t buy it. He seemed like the type who’d love to be in the scene around California.

  He sighed. “My father is from this area. I haven’t been around him since I was four. I had the crazy whim that it would be nice to connect. I thought this was my chance. Are you satisfied now?”

  I stared at him. I could actually understand where he was coming from. My father and I had a rocky relationship and only in the past few months had it started getting better. “Has it worked? Have you
connected?”

  He watched out the window for a moment before slowly nodding. “We’ve been cordial. It’s hard to bridge a gap like that. I grew up with a single mom who struggled to make ends meet. I only got to go to college because of my grades and scholarships.”

  “What area of California are you from?” Riley asked.

  Those red blotches appeared again. “Outside of L.A.”

  “Where outside of L.A.? I lived there myself for a while,” Riley said.

  The dentist swallowed, his throat looking awfully tight. “Boyle Heights.”

  “Near the Scum River?” Riley asked.

  Dr. Alexander stared at us. He didn’t have to say anything. The bulging muscles at his neck said enough.

  CHAPTER 21

  “He’s got guilt written all over him,” I mumbled to Riley as we stepped outside.

  “The question is: Guilt about what?” Riley agreed.

  “It can’t be a coincidence that he’s from the same area of California where Milton Jones left his victims. Maybe one of his family members was a victim?”

  Riley shook his head. “I would remember that. There were no Alexanders. He could have been a friend of one of the victims. But I definitely didn’t recognize that guy.”

  I climbed into the sedan and looked back at my brother, who’d apparently decided to clip his toenails in the car. Gross. I’d have to apologize to Riley later.

  I craned my neck back toward him. “I need your help, Tim.”

  “With what?” He flicked another nail clipping onto the floor.

  I ignored his bad hygiene for a moment, trying to focus on more important matters. “I need you to go dumpster diving.”

  “Awesome. Where? When? That’s one task I’m always up for.”

  I pointed behind the building. “That’s the where. The when is up to you.”

  “What am I looking for?” He shoved his clippers back into his jeans.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. Not for sure. But there’s something that dentist isn’t telling us and I’m trying to figure out what. Maybe a paper. A picture. Cell phone records. I won’t know until I see it.”

  “The best time is after the office closes. Otherwise, people get a little upset, especially in office buildings, when they see you going through their stuff. Grocery stores and fast food restaurants? They’re awesome. And they’ve got so much food. How much we waste as Americans is unbelievable. Meanwhile, there are people starving in other parts of the world. It’s a shame. A crying shame.”

  I didn’t have time for his diatribe right now. I loved it that he cared about saving the world. He tried to do it his way; I tried to do it mine.

  Right now, my crusade seemed more pressing and obtainable.

  “I say we head back to the apartment and do a little more research,” I said. “I also want to check in with Parker and Adams and see if they’ve come up with anything new.”

  Riley nodded. “Let’s go, then.”

  ***

  My cell phone rang as we drove back. I didn’t recognize the number, but I answered anyway. “This is Ramona, Bill McCormick’s assistant. Turn the radio on. Now.”

  I didn’t ask any questions. I hit the dial and found the station.

  Chills raced over me at what I heard.

  “I have a message for Gabby St. Claire.” The voice was clearly Milton Jones’. He sounded as evil and sinister as ever.

  “What’s that message you’d like to get across?” Bill asked.

  “Tell her that everyone around her is in jeopardy.”

  “Can you be any more specific?”

  “Her questions aren’t doing her any favors. Another will be taken, and it will be her fault. May her guilt be more painful than any physical pain. And may her pain only cause Riley Thomas more agony that he can imagine. Agony like the agony he caused me.”

  “You felt agony at being caught and sent to prison?” Bill asked.

  “No, I felt agony at being unable to kill again.”

  I grabbed Riley’s hand and squeezed. Riley was right. This man was pure evil.

  The only way to protect people from Jones was to find him and have him arrested, back behind bars where he belonged. I should have shot him when I had the chance.

  “Mr. Jones, are you there? Are you there still? Hello?” Bill said over the airways. “I guess we lost him folks. All I can tell the good people of Norfolk is to lock your doors. Keep an eye on those you love. And buy guns. Lots of guns. Good day, and good luck.”

  Nice War of the Worlds reference, Bill, I thought with the shake of my head.

  “What did that mean?” I asked Riley. “Everyone around me? Who could be next?”

  “He’s playing games with us, Gabby.”

  “It’s working. I’m feeling creeped out.”

  “You should be creeped out. Everyone should be creeped out. This guy is no joke. Are you sure you don’t want to consider that cabin in the mountains, somewhere far away from everything and everybody?”

  I shook my head. “Tempting. It really is. But the only way I’m going to have any peace is by finding this guy and putting him where he belongs.”

  Riley shook his head. “I don’t know how to keep you safe.”

  “It’s not your job to keep me safe.”

  “If not my job, then whose is it?”

  Tim stuck his head between the seats. “I’ll do it.”

  I frowned. I had a better chance on my own.

  ***

  Before we reached our apartment building, I saw the police cars down the street from our place. My chest tightened, an all too familiar feeling.

  We pulled up to the scene. Before Riley even put on brakes, my door was open and I stepped out.

  Rose’s house.

  The police were at Rose’s house.

  Were they making an arrest? Was she the accomplice, just as I’d originally thought? Maybe they’d taken her into custody, and she was giving up important information.

  I ran right up against the crime scene tape around the house, just in time to see Adams step out. “Detective!”

  He looked over, a disgruntled look on his face as he nodded me across the line. I ducked under and met him on the front steps.

  I nodded toward the house behind me. “What’s going on here? Did you arrest Rose? Find evidence to convict her?”

  Adams shook his head grimly. “Rose has been taken.”

  “Taken? What do you mean?” Riley joined me, shielding his eyes from the blaring sun.

  “I mean that Milton Jones grabbed her last night.”

  CHAPTER 22

  My throat burned when I swallowed. Rose? A victim? This was not how I saw everything playing out.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “The newspaper delivery guy noticed the door was open this morning. Everyone’s up in arms about Jones, so he decided to call 911. The police found this inside.” Adams held up a photo.

  It was of Rose, taken at the cookout she’d hosted for all of us. Her eyes had Xs over them.

  My heart sank. Rose had been telling the truth. She was innocent this whole time. And now she’d fallen prey to Milton Jones.

  Riley squinted against the sunlight. “What about Officer Newell? Did he confess to anything?”

  Adams shook his head. “No, but he’s on desk duty right now. He acted in an unprofessional manner. A rookie will make rookie mistakes. Those mistakes will have serious consequences, though. Some people have to learn the hard way.”

  “How about Colin Belkin?” I knew he was probably innocent, but I’d take whatever information I could get.

  “He’s facing some charges for crime scene disturbance, among other things. But he’s not guilty of conspiring with a killer. Just of being young and having poor judgment.” Adams paused. “I heard about the message Jones left for you over the radio. You need to be careful.”

  “Was anyone able to trace the call?”

  He shook his head. “He wasn’t on the line long enough.”r />
  “That’s no surprise,” I muttered.

  I filled him in on my meeting with Dr. Stephen Alexander. He took some notes and promised to look into it.

  In the meantime, I had a few things to look into myself.

  ***

  “Riley, look at this.” I pointed to the computer screen. I’d brought my laptop over to his apartment, and we were crashing here until we could figure out our next step. Tim had disappeared to take a nap. Cutting his toenails must have really worn him out.

  Riley wiped his hands on a dishtowel, fresh from making some sandwiches, and peered over my shoulder. “What am I looking at?”

  “This is the website that sells what they call ‘murderabilia.’ It has stuff up for auction from some of the most notorious serial killers in this country. They even sell chips off of the tombstones from killers who are deceased.”

  Riley leaned over me and stared at the computer screen. He studied the information there for a minute before shaking his head slowly. “It’s a sad reality that our world has come to this.”

  “Did you see the amount that some of these items are getting at auction? It’s insane. Someone’s making a lot of cash on this stuff. I don’t think it’s always the serial killer, either.”

  “It makes me think of the verse from Ephesians. ‘For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.’”

  “Sometimes it feels like the world is such a wretched place,” I muttered. “Man seems capable of so much destruction. Human lives have value. How do people so easily forget that?”

  “It’s nothing new to this era. Think back to Roman times when there were gladiators. Throughout the ages, there have been human sacrifices, and wars with brutal outcomes and horrific battles. Think of Hitler.”

  “I don’t wear rose colored glasses, but sometimes I wish I did. I wish I could be like one of those beauty contestants who says she wishes for world peace. I don’t have any illusions about world peace, not this side of heaven.”

  “Thank goodness our hope isn’t in the world.”