Christy Barritt - Squeaky Clean 04 - Dirty Deeds (14 page)

I sank into the couch, trying to clear my head and ignoring the painting of the prim and proper woman who stared at me from across the room, chiding me for bad posture. Delores Allen, the nameplate read. I wondered if that was Bentley’s great-grandmother, the one who’d started Allendale Acres three generations ago.

There were still some details of my plan that I needed to work out. And I really hoped that the police officer didn’t show up at the same time as Shirley, otherwise I might find myself in a sticky situation.

My cell phone rang. I saw the number was my best friend Sierra’s. Sierra was just the person I needed to speak with. She understood me just as well as anyone. I made fun of her for being such an animal lover, and she made fun of me for cleaning crime scenes, so we got along just fine.

“Gabby! You answered! What’s going on?”

“I’m just sitting here, wearing this fancy fur coat at this luxurious resort. They’re giving furs out because, you know, everyone here is rich and all. Maybe you should come and stop them.”

“Ha ha. Very funny.” She paused. “But if anything of that sort happens, let me know. I’ll be right there.”

“I don’t doubt it.” I smiled. I loved how passionate my friend was about helping animals. And thanks to her influence, I still felt guilty to this day if I ever wore leather or ate a burger or even stepped on an ant. “How are you and Chad doing?”

Chad was my business partner. He and Sierra had started dating not long ago, and I couldn’t be happier for them. They seemed smitten.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she grumbled.

“That doesn’t sound good.”

She sighed so loud I had to pull the phone away from my ear. “We had this huge fight. I really don’t want to get into it over the phone.”

“I’m sorry.” I wanted to say more, but she didn’t want to talk about it.

“Quick question before I forget. What’s the best way to get blood out of carpet?”

I went stiff. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, unfortunately.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“I’m fine. I’m just doing a little undercover work. Puppy mill stuff. But the blood is human, not dog, so don’t get sad or anything. I’d ask Chad but I’m not speaking to him right now.”

“Okay … ” I drew out the word for as long as I could. “Is the blood dry or fresh?”

“Fresh.”

I didn’t like where this was going. “Use cold water. Mix some hand soap with some water and blot it.”

“I tried that already.”

“You can use some ammonia.”

“Tried that, too.”

“Why don’t you just go up to my apartment and grab some of my cleaning solution?”

“I was hoping you’d say that. Thanks!”

I twisted my head, trying to comprehend this conversation. “Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me? Chad’s alive, right?”

“Very funny. He’s fine. I’ll fill you in when you get back. Anyway, how about you? How’s it going at Allendale Acres? You and Riley been practicing that scene with the song ‘Love Is Strange’?”

So I may have made a
Dirty Dancing
comparison before I left—minus the dirty dancing part. You know, fancy resort; rich girl, poor boy (only reversed). In all fairness, I’d also made
My Fair Lady
comparisons, and I may have even mentioned
Stand By Me
.

“No ‘Love Is Strange’ reenactments.” I filled her in, not leaving out any detail.

Sierra sighed. “Oh, Gabby. It’s no mystery that these kind of capers find you.”

Capers? I don’t think I’d ever heard her use that word before. Nor had I heard anyone else remotely near my age say it. “Tell me about it. There’s this small problem that Riley asked me not to get involved.”

“Oh, no. Does he know that you can’t help yourself?”

I twirled one of my curls absently. “No, not yet. He’s been distracted with his conference.”

“You’ve got to tell him. You know that, right? For that matter, I think you should tell him that it is highly insensitive of him to even ask you not to snoop.”

“Insensitive?”

“It’s like asking you not to be you.”

“I thought you liked Riley.”

“I love Riley. And you two together are like Sonny and Cher.”

“They got divorced.”

“Okay, how about Romeo and Juliet.”

“They died.”

“Fred and Wilma Flintstone?”

I didn’t even know what to say to that.

“Anyway, I think you’re perfect together. But you shouldn’t have to try and be someone you’re not.”

“It’s called compromise. And it’s just for a week.”

“You know what? It doesn’t matter. I’m just in a rotten mood, and I’ve got to get the blood out of the carpet. I have to ask, though. Did you tell Riley about your job yet?”

I let out a soft sigh. Sierra was the only person I’d talked to about my job situation. But between my job secret and my investigation, I was feeling like slime. “No. I just can’t bring myself to do it. Riley seems so proud of me.”

“He’ll be proud of you if you’re a crime scene cleaner or a medical examiner. You know that.”

I did know that, but there were so many other small details that clouded my judgment at the moment. I twirled my curl faster. “I know, but medical legal death investigator just sounds so much better, especially around his friends. How do I explain to him that my job was over practically before it even started?”

“He’ll understand, Gabby. Believe me. He loves you.”

I sighed. I hated it when I sighed. “Relationships are so complicated.”

“But they’re worth it, right? I think you told me that once.”

I thought of all the good times Riley and I had shared. We’d laughed together, cried together, argued together, and even prayed together. If our relationship could survive what it already had survived, then our chances for making it were probably pretty good. “Yeah, they’re worth it.”

We chatted a few more minutes before I hung up. Talking to Sierra always made me feel better. Except not really today.

Blood on the carpet? Trouble with Chad? Trying to be someone else for Riley?

The hotel phone rang.

I knew what that meant.

The police were here.

***

“I don’t understand. My suitcases were right here.” I pointed to the closet off of my bedroom. My first bedroom. The one in the room adjacent to Jackie’s.

“No one was allowed in here. I don’t know what happened to them.” The police officer shrugged and looked anything but apologetic. Maybe annoyed would be a better description.

Annoyed definitely fit how I felt at the moment. “Well, are you going to try and find out?”

He shrugged again. “I’ll check the front desk to see if anyone used their keycard.”

“I’ll go with you.” I crossed my arms, irritated beyond belief. Why would someone take all of my clothes and make up? Were they trying to drive me crazy? To implicate me? I had no idea.

The officer, a middle-aged man with a mustache and receding hairline, nodded toward the door. “Let’s go.”

We walked side by side down the hallway, quiet for a moment with only the sound of his pants swishing back and forth, back and forth.

It was time to break the silence. “Any leads on Jackie?”

He continued to look straight ahead. “I can’t discuss that.”

“Did you check out the security footage?”

“I can’t discuss that.”

“What’s your next move?”

“I can’t—”

I interrupted him. “I know. You can’t discuss that. You can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“I assure you that we’re exploring every possible avenue in an effort to find answers.” He offered a small glance as he said the words. I never could quite understand people with stoic personalities. It was the opposite of me, since I had a tendency to err on the side of dramatic.

“That’s always good. I guess you don’t get many cases like this out here in the middle of nowhere.” I imagined the police out here dealing with stuff like rowdy hunters, property disputes, or moonshine—not that I wanted to stereotype or anything.

“Lost hikers? We get lots of those.” His voice held amusement, like I had no idea what I was talking about. I’d probably seen more homicides in my lifetime as a crime scene cleaner in Norfolk, than he’d seen as a police officer out here in the boonies.

“If you just thought she was a lost hiker then why did you cordon off her room like something illegal happened?”

The hint of a smile disappeared. “I can’t discuss that.”

I nodded, mentally mocking him. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

We were at the front counter now. The officer explained things to the lady behind the desk, who then went and got the manager. Bentley Allen appeared.

“How can I help you?” The man’s head bobbed back and forth between the two of us, his expression screaming, “Customer service.”

“We just need information on who’s been coming and going from room 3412,” Officer Sharples said.

“Is everything all right? Satisfaction is our top priority here for our guests.”

“We’re just looking into a matter involving the young woman who’s missing.”

Bentley pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Of course. Anything we can do to help.”

He tapped away at the computer before looking up. “It says that a Gabby St. Claire used her key card at 2 a.m. to get into the room.”

My palm hit the counter top. “I’m Gabby St. Claire and that’s impossible! I did not go into the room last night. Besides, I thought my keycard was deactivated once the room became a potential crime scene.”

Bentley shrugged. “I’m just telling you what the computer says. Do you have your card with you?”

I reached into my purse. The spot where I’d kept my key was empty. I felt like beating my head against the counter or, in the very least, doing a face palm. I settled for shrugging. “It’s gone.”

“You sure you didn’t go into that room, desperate to retrieve some of your clothes?” the officer asked.

“I’m sure.” I ran my hand down my outfit like a game show hostess might. “I had to buy this hideous outfit this morning, and it cost more than I make in a day sometimes.”

He nodded slowly as if he didn’t believe me. Finally, he said, “I’ll file a report. In the meantime, I’d buy some more clothes, sailor.”

CHAPTER 19

I was trying not to fume as I went back into my own room. I did not want to wipe out my checking account just so I could buy clothes I didn’t even like from some fancy gift shop in some fancy hotel. I’d probably have to drive an hour to find anywhere else to buy clothes, and that was a problem because Riley’s car was in the shop.

Besides, why had someone stolen my clothes? It didn’t make sense. There was no incriminating evidence in my suitcase, nothing that someone would want to get rid of or need to hide. No, whoever did it had probably either wanted to annoy me or to somehow make me look guilty.

Just then, someone knocked at my door. I pulled it open and saw Shirley standing there. She had a maid uniform in her hands, and she thrust it toward me as she pushed herself into the room. “Here you go.”

I stared at the polyester uniform. “Thank you. I know this is risky.”

She shrugged. “I like the job and all, but I like justice more. Besides, if I help to find the bad guy and save the hotel’s reputation, maybe good things will happen for me. Otherwise, I’m perfectly content to wait for my reward in heaven.”

I smiled. “You’re a good woman.”

She sucked in a deep breath, looked side to side, and then held up a key card. “You’ll need this.”

My eyes widened. “I was just trying to figure out how I was going to get into his room. I had no idea.”

“This is a master key. It will get you in.”

“Won’t you get in trouble?”

She shook her head. “Jasmine downstairs said she’d erase it from the records. Ricky is watching the security cameras. We’ve got you covered.”

“You guys really believe in me, don’t you?”

“We believe that rich folks shouldn’t get away with murder. I call that a win-win.” She shoved the keycard into my hand. “I need this back. And don’t lose it or my hide will be toast.”

I gripped it and gave a quick, tight nod. “You know it.”

“Seriously. One of the valets got in trouble for giving a guest some special privileges about a month ago. I trust you.”

“I won’t let you down.”

“Most of all, be safe.”

She bustled toward the door, pausing only a second before bursting into the hallway. She hummed the theme from
I Love Lucy
as she hurried down the hall.

Sneaking into Clint’s room could get me in big trouble. I knew that. If he saw me, of course he’d recognize me. But this was a risk I had to take. I had to figure out if he was involved in all of this.

I cracked my door open. Clint’s room was only five doors down from mine, and that fact would work to my advantage. I hadn’t seen him leave yet today, but I could have missed him when the officer was here.

Quickly, I changed into the maid’s uniform. I said a mental prayer of thanks that I didn’t have to wear this every day on my job. It wasn’t cute and fitted like the ones you saw on the movies. No, it was baggy and the grey color washed out my complexion. I pulled my hair back into a bun and put a handkerchief—courtesy of Shirley—around my head.

Up close, someone would recognize me. From a distance … maybe not.

I pulled a robe on over my clothes, just in case Veronica walked back in while I was waiting. I couldn’t help but notice how plush the white, belted robe was—microfiber and cozy and softer than the clouds. I ran my hands up and down the length of it.
Oh, la la.

I had to stop getting distracted, though. I put my hands on the side, resisting the urge to cuddle with my robe anymore.

Instead, I took my place at the door. I’d watch and wait for Clint to leave. Then I’d make my move.

***

An hour later, the door to Clint’s room finally opened. I watched through the peephole as he went past. I counted to ten—the approximate number of steps to the staircase, which he always used instead of the elevator—and then I opened my door again.