Organized Grime (Squeaky Clean Mysteries) Read online

  He titled his head. “It depends on how you define wealth.” He squeezed my arm. “There are things far greater in life than money.”

  I felt myself blush and knew I had to change the subject before my I-could-care-less-who-you-date façade crumbled. “She’s too old for you.”

  Riley didn’t break eye contact. “She’s too married for me.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  He looked away to sigh. “I don’t know. I’ll figure it out. I just have to preserve my integrity and character in the process.”

  I looked around for a second, trying to collect my thoughts. My best friend would soon be on the FBI’s most wanted list and here I was daydreaming about romance. Why did men make women do stupid things? I straightened, pulling myself out of airhead mode. “I’ve got to get out of here. This is not my kind of function.”

  Riley loosened in his tie. “Me neither. Let’s go.”

  He put his hand on my back and led me from the pack of cougars toward safety.

  Chapter Seven

  I got a call at nine o’clock that evening to go to a crime scene and clean. Some people considered getting their houses back in order after a tragedy a top priority. No waiting until the next morning. They wanted all evidence of the horror committed to be gone as soon as possible, as if scrubbing away the blood would somehow wash away their pain. If only it was that easy. But if me cleaning up for them would give them some peace of mind, then why not?

  I hesitated as I started down the steps of my apartment building, trying to be quiet and not disturb Riley. But I’d only gotten three steps down when his door opened and he popped his head out.

  “Where are you headed at this hour?”

  I pivoted. “Going to a job.”

  “Is Chad still out of town?”

  I nodded.

  He scowled. “Then I’m going with you. I thought we’d already discussed this. Going to crime scenes alone isn’t a good idea. Especially if your name is Gabby St. Claire.”

  I shrugged. “I know you have a busy week. I didn’t want to bug you.”

  “You never bug me, Gabby. Can you wait a couple of minutes for me to get my shoes? I want to go with you.”

  “Only if you insist.”

  “I do. What’s the job this time?”

  “Homicide. Stabbing, to be more specific. I don’t think it’s going to be pretty. At all. You sure you’re up for this?”

  “I won’t be able to sleep tonight if I think you’re there alone.”

  “You might not be able to sleep at night if you see this crime scene.”

  “I see a lot of stuff every day on my job, Gabby. Ugly stuff. I’ll be okay.”

  Yeah, but lawyerish ugly stuff was a lot different than the ugly stuff I saw. I kept my mouth shut, though, grateful to have someone come along with me. Crime scenes at night could be … spooky, to say the least. And I had almost been killed at a couple of the locations, so there was that consideration also.

  “I’ll be right back.” He disappeared into his apartment.

  “I’ll be waiting in the van.”

  Riley knew that I had a nose for trouble and, bless his heart, he tried to look out for me. It was a big job, one that very few people were equipped to do. He made it so easy to fall in love with him, even though I knew we were so different as people.

  As I passed Sierra’s door, my heart panged. Where was my friend? What was she doing? Was she okay?

  The more I thought about the situation, the further I concluded that something was very wrong. Sierra was smart. She would turn herself in if she’d done something wrong. She would allow herself to be questioned rather than hide from authorities. The only reason she might be hiding was because…because she was in danger. I was convinced of it.

  I climbed into my van, shivering down to the bone at the cold temperatures outside. I must have left something in the back of the van because the stench inside was enough to make me gag. No sooner had I started the van and cranked the heat did someone stick his head between the seats.

  “What’s up, Gabster?”

  I screamed and clutched my heart. That’s when I got a good look at the “intruder.” I lowered my hands and my racing heart slowed. “Henry? What are you doing? Why are you in my van?” The smell. I should have known.

  “I don’t have anywhere else to go. The FBI is looking for me.”

  I gave him my best “duh” expression. “You think? So you thought you could hide in my van? Where’s Sierra?”

  “I don’t know. I was hoping you could help me find her.” He smacked his bubble gum. I didn’t even want to know where the freegan got that. Underneath a desk?

  I swiveled so hard in my chair that my neck nearly twisted off my head. “What do you mean? What do you know, Henry?”

  He shrugged, and I noted that he looked just as unshaven and homeless as ever in his oversized coat and faded ball cap. “I know she’s in trouble.”

  Irritation pinched my spine. “Yeah, I gathered that also. Why’s she in trouble? What did you get her into?”

  He threw his hands in the air as if I was the crazy one. Was it my imagination or did some wilted lettuce and soggy tomatoes fly out of his sleeves at the action? Just where had he been dumpster diving now? “I didn’t get her into anything. I’m just as clueless about all of this as you are.”

  “I have a hard time believing that’s true.”

  “It is. I just want her to be okay.” His eyes softened, but I didn’t buy it. The action looked too purposeful and not all that natural and sincere.

  “I’m pretty sure you were the last person to see her. That makes you my first suspect.”

  “I’d never hurt Sierra. Never. I did meet with Sierra for a while yesterday. It wasn’t to bomb any buildings or burn down any housing developments, though. We were going to go protest at a pet store. She canceled on me at the last minute. Said she had to go meet with someone.”

  I sat up straighter as my internal clue-o-meter began registering. “Who?”

  “She didn’t say. I haven’t heard from her since then. But she wasn’t acting like herself.”

  “That’s all you can tell me?”

  “It’s all I know.”

  I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel, wondering how much time I was wasting by having this conversation. “I’m going to do a job right now, Henry. I can’t take you with me. I can’t even let you stay in my apartment because I, for starters, don’t want to get arrested. Secondly, I’m still not sure I believe you.”

  “I’m innocent, Gabby. You’ll see.” He grabbed the door handle. “I’m going to run now. I’ll be in touch, though.”

  He disappeared out one side, as Riley slipped into the other.

  Riley froze, as if contemplating whether to chase the person who’d just escaped or check on me. His eyes shifted back and forth in confusion and suspicion. Finally, in an even tone, he asked, “Who was that?”

  I bit my lips a moment. “That was Henry.”

  “Henry?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. He thinks Sierra is in trouble, too.” I relayed our conversation.

  Riley’s eyes met mine. “I don’t like this, Gabby.”

  The weight on my shoulders felt even heavier just then. “I don’t either. I don’t either.”

  ***

  Riley paused in the center of the dimly-lit living room, his gaze scanning the crime scene around him. A heaviness seemed to settle over him at the sight. The spot where a life had been taken from his earth could do that to a person. “You were right, Gabby. This scene is grizzly.”

  I paused from my spot on the floor where I worked a scrub brush with enough skill to make a custodian jealous. “I warned you.”

  “That you did.”

  I leaned back on my heels, concern for Riley spreading over me. Not everyone was cut out for this, not even tough guys. I considered it a calling. “You don’t have to stay, you know.”

  His gaze cut toward me. “But I do. I don’t want anything
happening to you.”

  Certainly, I was simply imagining the affection and concern I heard in his voice. To protect my heart, I latched on to that idea. Yes, I’d imagined it, and I kept scrubbing. Of course, setting my mind toward cleaning up blood and guts didn’t quite have the same appeal as letting my mind run wild at the thought of Riley and me having a future together.

  We scrubbed in silence for a few more minutes until finally I stood, pulled up my mask, snapped off my gloves, and wiped my forehead. The hazmat suit I wore could make an Eskimo going ice fishing sweat.

  Riley followed my lead and also took a breather. We wandered away from the scene and into the next room—the kitchen.

  “Terrible thing that happened here,” Riley muttered before chugging down some water.

  I leaned against the counter and grabbed my own water bottle. Condensation from the plastic trickled down my fingers. “I know. These are the hardest crime scenes to clean up after. Apparently, this was a home invasion gone wrong. The homeowner was supposed to be out of town, but he decided to stay home at the last minute. The robbers probably weren’t expecting anyone to be here. And now someone’s dead.”

  I knew I shouldn’t do it, but I abandoned my water bottle, wiped the extra liquid off of my fingers and onto my suit, and then thumbed my finger down the stack of books and papers on the kitchen counter. The man who died had worked for a solar energy company, or so I gathered. Sometimes I had to go searching for information like this, but, in this case, the man’s mother had poured out her pain to me before I was hired. I wanted to reach through the phone and hug the woman. I couldn’t even imagine her grief.

  Absently, I tugged at a piece of paper from the stack. A word in the corner caught my eye. Why did the format of the paper look familiar?

  “What are you doing?” Riley stepped closer.

  I froze up a moment at Riley’s closeness. “What I do best. Snooping.”

  His hand covered mine a moment—not in affection, but to stop me from doing something I might regret. It didn’t work. “Is that a good idea?”

  “The police have already been here and collected all the evidence. The crime scene has been cleared.” I yanked out the paper. My eyes widened when I saw the words at the top of the page.

  Building Bombs and How to Use Them.

  The same papers that Sierra had in her apartment.

  Was there a connection between this crime and the others?

  I lifted my gaze to the ceiling. Lord, what has my friend gotten herself into? Protect her. Please.

  Chapter Eight

  “Tell me one more time where you found this,” Parker demanded. He stood in the kitchen at my crime scene, again looking like he owned the place. He was good at that false ownership thing.

  I pointed to the same stack of papers and books that I’d already pointed at twice. “Right there, wedged between the pages of that notebook.”

  He scowled. “And how did you discover it?”

  “My natural nosiness was at work again. Of course. I don’t know what else you want me to tell you.” I threw my hands in the air in frustration. Riley stood behind me, a hand on my shoulder—again, not out of affection, but as a way of keeping me grounded.

  Special Agent Wilkerson approached Parker. “I just got off the phone with the mother. She said she pulled that stack of papers and books from the shelf in the victim’s room. Someone at his company asked if he could take a look at them for a special work project.”

  Parker raised a brow. “Convenient. Did she remember who that person was?”

  “Someone named Daniels. Mark Daniels, I think.”

  I tapped my foot, appearing not to pay attention but secretly storing away all of the information. Someone had to be an advocate for Sierra. I’d chosen myself to be that person, and I’d do whatever I could to ensure my friend was okay. “Please tell me you don’t think that Sierra is responsible for this crime also?”

  “The evidence will tell the story.” He leaned toward me. “Isn’t that what you would say?”

  I nudged my chin out farther. “Of course the evidence will tell the story. It will prove that she’s innocent. There has to be another explanation for this. I know there is.”

  “You’re loyal, if nothing else.”

  I scowled this time. “And you’re annoying, to say the least.”

  He chuckled, shook his head and took a playful swipe at my chin. “I love your spirit. I really do. Never lose that.”

  “I hear ya.” I grabbed my air scrub, a piece of the standard equipment I used when cleaning. The industrial piece helped to take away the smell often left at crime scenes. I needed to use it in my van after Henry’s visit. “Anything else? I’ve gotta get some shuteye.”

  “Yeah, one more thing. Stay out of trouble. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I know this is no joke. Whoever is behind these crimes—whether they’re connected or not—they’re dangerous.”

  I resisted a shudder. I believed Parker. Only, I wasn’t going to let the danger stop me.

  Riley’s hand moved to my … waist? “You ready?”

  I nodded, not missing the glance Parker bounced between Riley and me. “Yeah, let’s go.”

  Outside, the nighttime seemed startlingly quiet. Had the cold killed all the little nocturnal insects that chirped? The late hour apparently kept any pedestrians and traffic at bay. Still, something about the silence made me shiver.

  And then stop.

  There was that feeling again. That feeling of being watched.

  I let my gaze wander over my surroundings. I saw nothing unusual. Just a few cars parked on the side of the street, neighbors whose windows glowed with light from inside, some branches waving in the slight breeze.

  “What’s wrong?” Riley paused beside me.

  I continued to stare at everything around me. “Something feels off.”

  “Off how?”

  “It’s just a feeling. The feeling that someone’s watching all of this unfold.”

  Riley scanned the area also. “I don’t see anything.”

  I drug in a deep breath and took another step across the cracked concrete. “Yeah, I don’t either.” I let my gaze soak in everything around me once more as I approached my van. I held my breath as I opened the doors, half expecting to see Henry again. Thankfully, cleaning supplies greeted me. Riley and I loaded everything into the van. As I climbed into the driver’s seat, a piece of paper there caught my eyes. Riley and I exchanged a glance as I picked it up. Carefully, I unfolded it and saw the typed words there.

  Watch your back, Gabby St. Claire. This is no amateur’s game. Are you sure you’re cut out to take this on? Or are you too green?

  Green? That word couldn’t be a coincidence. I looked at Riley. “What does that mean? Are they challenging me to get involved and encouraging me to stay away at the same time?”

  “How about ‘threatening’ you to stay away?”

  “They were here, Riley. Whoever is behind all of this was here tonight. Maybe the person who left this is the same person who’s following me.”

  “Someone’s following you?” His voice sounded low, serious.

  “It’s just a gut feeling. The thing is that my gut feeling is usually right. I’m tired of discounting it.”

  “You’re right. God gives us those instincts for a reason. You should trust your gut.” He paused. “Have you told Parker?”

  I shook my head. “I know Parker. He’ll just think I’m crazy.”

  “You have to show him this note, you know. There could be fingerprints.”

  “I doubt it.” I sighed again and opened my door. “But here goes nothing.”

  ***

  I’ve been going to church for about four months now and, if truth be told, I still wasn’t 100 percent comfortable there, even if the church I was attending met in a high school cafeteria and had a pastor that I’d affectionately—and secretly—nicknamed Pastor Shaggy because of his resemblance to the character from Scooby Doo.

&nb
sp; I officially became a Christian two months ago—on New Year’s Day, to be specific. After Thanksgiving, I’d gone to church with Riley. I’d been promising to go for months, and I finally decided to keep my word. I’d surprised myself when I actually liked it there.

  I’d been wrestling with the whole faith versus science thing for a while. But I knew that I was ready to take the plunge into Christianity. And plunge I did. Even though it was forty degrees outside, as soon as I decided to become a Christian, I wanted to be baptized—in the ocean.

  Pastor Shaggy had agreed to it. The day was cold and windy, but the sun shone brightly. All of my friends—Riley, Sierra, Chad, Sharon, plus a few others—gathered at the beach, huddled up in coats and blankets. Pastor Shaggy and I waded out into the icy ocean water and, after offering up a beautiful prayer, he plunged me into the surf. I loved the symbolism of being dunked under the water and coming up washed clean. What a beautiful picture of my new life in Christ.

  My friends had applauded. A few rushed into the water to hug me. And we’d sung some worship songs and prayed—after I changed clothes, of course. Then we’d all gotten coffee and eaten pie and laughed together at a little oceanfront diner. My theme song had changed from “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” to “Amazing Grace.”

  I’d felt like a new person. I was a new person, and I was so grateful for the change in my life. I’d merged my thoughts between faith and science. I knew the two could go hand in hand. And I was ready to accept that there was a creator who loved me, who made all things work for his purposes. I also believed that he’d given us knowledge of certain things in life that we could use in order to prove that God was real.

  Riley’d had a big influence on these life changes of the past couple of months. He was the one who hadn’t given up on me and my continual skepticism about God and Jesus. He encouraged me to stay strong and not to be as narrow-minded as the people I criticized. He’d met with me early on after I was baptized and we’d read the Bible together, prayed together.

  The thing I liked the most about church was that the more I grew in my relationship with Jesus, the less I thought about myself. I’d come to the conclusion that putting others above yourself was the true prescription for happiness.