Christy Barritt - Squeaky Clean 08 - Foul Play (5 page)

Sarcastic mantras came to me a little too easily sometimes.

Apparently, Arie really wanted to maintain a lot of control still since usually a director picked the cast.

Paulette nodded. “She should be at rehearsal
again tomorrow night. I talked to her this morning and smoothed things over. She decided not to talk to her lawyer.”

“I’ll talk to
Arie then.”

“I’m not sure she’s going to be on board
with talking with you. She—”

The front door flew open
, and I twirled around. A man charged inside the house. Even from where I was standing, I could see the veins bulging at his temples as he stormed toward us.

Instinctively, I pushed Paulette behind me and braced myself.
It wasn’t as if I’d ever taken any self-defense courses or anything. But I figured I was more capable than Paulette. Too bad I didn’t have my gun with me.

Behind me,
Paulette let out a sigh. A sigh? That didn’t generally convey fear, more like annoyance. I noticed she stayed behind me, though. Was she … cowering?

“Really?” the man exclaimed
, getting closer and closer. He held some papers in his hand and waved them like a flag. “You had to send your lawyer to talk to me about this? You couldn’t have mentioned it yourself?”

Paulette
crossed her arms behind me. “You’re not welcome to come and go as you please, Roberto. This isn’t your home anymore.”

“
You’re doing everything in your power to make sure that’s true, aren’t you?” The man looked to be in his early thirties, and he was fit and tan and had a slight accent that I couldn’t pinpoint. Brazilian, maybe? He was probably handsome when he wasn’t blowing his top, slightly resembling a young Antonio Banderas.

“
You knew that when we got married,” Paulette said. “There was a pre-nup. None of this should be a surprise.”

He stepped close
r and thrust the papers toward her, and I could practically see the steam coming from his ears. “This isn’t fair, Paulette. Not after everything we went through. I deserve more than this.”

Paulette
leaned past me, steely determination in her gaze and more fight in her voice than I knew she had. “Everything we went through? That would be one year of marriage. One lousy year at that.”

I just wished I wasn’t standing between the bickering couple.
If there’s one thing I wasn’t, it was a marriage counselor. I couldn’t even manage my own relationships, let alone give anyone else advice.

“You can’t leave me high and dry like this.” The man—
Roberto?—started to reach for Paulette.

I held up a hand. “Maybe you should back off for a minute.”

His fiery gaze fell on me, and his eyes widened, almost as if he’d finally noticed I was standing there. “Who are you?”

“I’m a friend of Paulette
’s. And I don’t like your tone. You should treat a lady like a lady.”

“This is none of your business,” he growled.

I bristled. “It became my business when you accosted Paulette right in front of me.”

“
Accosted? Accosted? Let me guess—you must be a lawyer! Another one! You’re trying to catch me in the act, aren’t you? Trying to nail me.”

I
pushed myself in front of Paulette. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I think you need to cool it, though.”

His
nostrils flared as his gaze burned into Paulette. “This isn’t over. Not by a long shot …
Honey
.” The word dripped with bitterness and derision. “I’ll fight this with everything in me.”

With
that, he stormed out.

I turned to look at my friend.
My heart pounded out of control, so I could only imagine what hers was doing.

Her lips were pulled into a tight line
, and she crossed her arms.

“I guess he doesn’t realize that if there’s anything my dad knows about—besides money—it’s how to draw up a contract. There’s no wiggle room.
Roberto is leaving this marriage with what he brought into it—practically nothing. I thought I was being generous when I let him keep the Mercedes.”

Wow. I didn’t know Paulette had it in her. She’d always seemed so placid in the past.
“Estranged husband, huh?”

She plopped down in a chair by
the window. “Yeah, you’d think I’d do a little better job at picking them by now.”

I sat across from her
, curiosity at an all time high. Just what had happened to my friend in the years since I’d seen her? Life could be a cruel companion at times. “What’s that mean?”

“This is my third marriage.”

I tried not to flinch or show any judgment. But three failed marriages? Wow. No one could argue that it wasn’t a great track record.

“I keep thinking I’ve found true love, only to realize that they’re just using me for my father’s money and connections. None of them have really loved me.”

“That’s got to be hard.”

She shrugged, her eyes looking slightly vacant. “I’m
accustomed to it. People have used me for my entire life, Gabby. Well, everyone but you.”

Talking to her was a good reminder that even being rich, people had problems. Money certainly couldn’t buy happiness.
I’d seen that enough in my life. But I’d also experienced how not having money could lead to a whole different set of problems.

She stood. “Please excuse me a moment. I feel a headache coming on.”

She disappeared down a hallway into one of the wings of her home. The fight I’d just witnessed replayed in my mind all the way up until Paulette returned. She looked a little more composed as she sat across from me on the couch.

“How’d you meet
Roberto?” I asked.

“I bought him at—”

My thoughts spun wildly.

“—one of those bachelor auctions for charity. Well, I didn’t actually buy him. My assistant did for me. I’m uncomfortable bidding at events like that.”

I let out the breath I held. “I see.”

“He played
soccer for the professional team out of D.C. I thought he was just adorable. But then he had a knee injury, so the soccer thing fell through. He started coaching this minor league soccer team, which barely pays enough for groceries. Plus, he had racked up a ton of credit card debt by trying to live a lifestyle he couldn’t afford.”

“So, what’s he doing now?”

She shrugged again. “I heard he’s back to coaching. He’s living with one of his old soccer buddies until he can save enough money to move out on his own. Kind of sad for a 32-year-old, wouldn’t you say?”

I wondered if she felt at all bad about
her role in that. She didn’t appear to, and I had mixed feelings on it. Obviously, if the man was just a money grubbing louse, then he was getting what he had coming. On the other hand, it would be hard to go from living a lavish lifestyle to having nothing.

“He was a
jerk. He constantly had his hand out, asking for money. He didn’t want to work after we got married. He wanted to be a kept man. Daddy didn’t approve.”

“I can imagine.” Mr. Zollin
hadn’t become successful without a whole lot of smarts. I noticed the time and stood, remembering everything else on my to do list. As much as I’d like to stay longer, I couldn’t afford that luxury right now. “Paulette, I’ve got to run, but I’m going to talk to some people. I’ll be subtle.”

“That’s right. No one can know you’re investigating.
It’s of vital importance, Gabby.”

Though that sounded exciting, it
actually made things a lot more complicated. In the past, I’d just come right out and asked questions. Being subtle wasn’t exactly my gift. I guessed I’d have a chance to brush up on my acting skills in the process.

I walked out to my van
, reflecting on exactly how I was going to handle this undercover gig, and paused. Something didn’t look right.

That’s when I realized that m
y tires had been slashed.

CHAPTER 6

“I can’t believe
Roberto would sink this low!” Paulette threw her hands in the air. “He is so dead. He’s unbelievable! A jerk if I’ve ever met one.”

We were
outside of her house, waiting for the police to arrive and on-and-off staring at the deflated tires of my van. I’d started to call my insurance company, but Paulette stopped me.

“I’ll take care of your tires.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I told her.

“Of course I do. This happened on my
property because of one of the nitwits I allowed into my life. I know you need your van for your work. I’ll have this taken care of.”

“
You’re … sure?”

She
nodded. “Of course. You can borrow one of my cars in the meantime.”

I felt like I should
protest, but I really did need some wheels. And I didn’t have a lot of cash or a lot of time, so if she wanted to fix my van, who was I to argue? Besides, it was her lousy soon-to-be ex who’d done the deed.

The police arrived and we gave our report. The officer said he
would check out Roberto for us but, all in all, he didn’t sound very hopeful.

“What’s that liquid under your van?” the officer asked.

I squatted on the ground and, sure enough, there was a puddle of something. “I have no idea.”

“You might want to have the van checked out and make sure nothing else was done,” the officer said.

“It’s probably just cleaning fluid,” I said.

Changing my tires might take
a day. Checking out the van’s innards would take much longer.

Roberto
must have been a nitwit, as Paulette had called him, if he’d slashed my tires right after he left the house because he was the obvious culprit. Of course, I’d met dumber criminals in my day. I just hated that his rage had to be an inconvenience to me, as if I’d been the one who’d wronged him.

“I’ve got to get to another job, Paulette,” I said when the officer left.

“Of course. Let me get you a car.”

I followed her to the garage.
Four vehicles—all luxury class—were parked there.

I couldn’t even imagine owning one of these cars. I was a used, American car with dents—or lots of personality, as I liked to say—kind of girl.

She stopped in front of a cherry red Bentley convertible.

“Will this work?”
she asked.

A smile slowly spread over my face. “This will definitely work. I mean, if I must.”

“Your van will be fixed as soon as possible. Hopefully in a couple of days.”

I nodded, like I was sacrificing, and then pulled some of my equipment from the back of my old vehicle and filled both the trunk and the back seat of my new loaner. I would look quite fancy pulling up to my crime scene in this.

**
*

I got to play practice twenty minutes late. It was all because I’d gotten to my crime scene late. And I’d gotten to the crime scene late because my tires had been slashed. The whole thing had a domino effect on my schedule.

Still, it didn’t bode well for the new girl to flounce into rehearsal after ev
eryone else had already started, especially since I was the one who needed to be there the most. Not only that, but I was feeling irritable. Maybe it was because I was so rushed that I hadn’t had time to eat. Maybe it was because I’d had to work with the new guy, Braxton, who grated on my nerves. Maybe it was the fact that I was supposed to be investigating and instead I felt like I’d just been wasting a lot of time.

We
still couldn’t use the stage, so we were in the old chorus room. I flew through the door, feeling a lot like a middle schooler being tardy for class. I had a bad habit of that as a preteen. Maybe some things never changed.

Everyone stared at me when I charged into the room. I tried to co
mpose myself by straightening my back and smoothing out my hair. But I hadn’t had time to go home and shower after the job. My haz-mat suit had caught any of the gunk that could have gotten on me, but the scent of blood saturated my clothing and hair. No haz-mat suit could protect you from that.

This was no
t the way I wanted to start my off-Broadway career. Or my community theater career, for that matter. Or even just make an impression.

“You must be the new girl,” someone said.

I looked over and spotted my old drama teacher, Mrs. Baker. She looked nearly just like I’d remembered her, only older. She had petite features and her light brown hair now had a touch of gray.

A grin started to stretch across my face
until Mrs. Baker tapped her pen against a clipboard and pointed center stage. “Please, take your place.”

I
nodded, my heart sinking. Then I realized that Paulette must have told her I was undercover. That was the only explanation for why she’d act so cold and hard. Mrs. Baker had always been one of my favorite teachers ever. I wasn’t sure if she knew the impact she’d had on my life.

I didn’t ponder it too long. Instead, I took my plac
e center stage, which was really center of the front of the room.

“We’ll be singing, ‘Climb Every
Steeple,’” Mrs. Baker continued. “I hope you’re prepared.”

I nodded. Paulette hit a button on the CD player and background music filled the room.

A trickle of anxiety tried to seep into my gut, but I pushed it back. I was undercover. I had nothing to prove to myself concerning my musical ability here. Still, part of me secretly wanted to succeed.

I cleared my throat,
listening for my cue. Sweat broke out across my forehead as I tried to remember. I’d been so intent on memorizing the words that I’d forgotten to think about where to come in.

This wasn’t good.

“You missed it, Gabby,” Mrs. Baker scolded. “You’ve got to count in your head four measures and then start. We don’t have much time to pull this together. I thought Paulette had stressed that to you.”

My cheeks flamed. “Of course. I’m sorry. I’ll get it.”

“Let’s try that again,” Mrs. Baker instructed.

Paulette started the CD again. I counted in my head, took a deep breath, and then plunged in.

Mrs. Baker stopped me. “You were one beat too slow. I also need you to draw out ‘Cli … mb ev … ery.’ You sped through the words.”

Wow.
What if Mrs. Baker was being cold for real? Had she changed in the years since I knew her? She’d always been so kind in the past, but this woman was like a shark right now.

We went through the rest of the rehearsal. I had more reprimands, a few chuckles, and a whole lot of stress.

This wasn’t going to be nearly as fun as I’d hoped.

“Gabby, I need you to stay back so we can work on a few things,” Mrs. Baker said. “Okay?”

I nodded as Mrs. Baker wrapped up with the rest of the cast. I glanced at the various members, trying to remember each of them, mostly because every one was a potential suspect in my mind.

There was Arie.
I already knew more about her than I cared to know.

Jerome
was in his mid-twenties, on the taller side, had a long face, and had studied acting at a local community college. Apparently, he loved Shakespeare and video games, and he worked as an accountant until he could catch his big break. He had an artistic flare and liked to wear scarves tucked around his neck. It gave him a very metro vibe.

Then there were the twins
, Karen and Sharen. They were the backstage managers. What could I say about them? They seemed so odd in their own way and reminded me a bit of the twins from The Shining. The sisters were identical and practically joined at the hip. With stringy brown hair, plain looking clothes, and almost no make up, the two were a little eerie. Whenever they laughed, it was in unison and sounded high pitched and awkward—almost fake. Except, the more I heard it, the more I realized they weren’t being fake. That’s just how they sounded.

There were several other extras and chorus members, but no
one else stood out at the moment.

As the meeting wrapped up
, I excused myself and hurried to the bathroom, more to collect myself than anything else. I was feeling like I was in over my head, and my nerves felt frayed after such a rough rehearsal.

I splashed my face with cold water. “Pull it together, Gabby,” I muttered, staring at my reflection in the mirror and smacking my cheeks.

I felt like an adolescent again. The whole situation was messing with my head and playing on my self-confidence. Being the star of this show was taking me out of my comfort zone and then some.

The door squeaked open, and I jerked my head toward it.
It was a girl from the cast. Her name was Bennie, a strange name if I’d ever heard one. Every time I heard it, I started humming the Elton John song, “Benny and the Jets.”

The short, athletic-looking woman hurried toward the mirror and smoothed her wavy brown hair into a ponytail. She frowned at her freckles before straightening her poofy purple skirt, one that seemed more appropriate for a three-year-old.

She played the detective in the musical and seemed nice enough. I’d guess her to be in her early twenties.

As she glanced over at me,
I braced myself for whatever she might say.
You really stink. You should think about a different career—or even hobby. I know who you are.

“I just wanted to say I think you’re doing a great job,”
Bennie started.

Some
of my guard came down. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“Ignore the rest of the cast. They’re just on edge.
Scarlet’s death has thrown us all for a loop.” She leaned closer. “And honestly, some of us are afraid that Paulette has no idea what she’s doing. She seems in over her head.”

“
Your encouragement is kind, Bennie. I’ve been feeling some of the tension, so that means a lot.”

She shivered. “I hope the ghost will leave us alone until the play’s over. I’ve thought about quitting a few times myself.”

“The ghost?” Did the girl really believe that?

Bennie
nodded. “Sure. Everyone knows this place is supposed to be haunted. I think the ghost is angry because we’re disturbing what’s become her home over the past several years. She’s had peace up until the renovations started.”

I wanted to say something sarcastic, but there was no need to alienate the person who just might be my one friend here. Instead, I nodded. “I hope the ghost will leave us alone as well.”

Bennie smiled. “I’ve gotta run. Talk to you tomorrow!”

I shook my head as she walked away. Ghost? Really?

I pushed inside the choir room, spotted Mrs. Baker talking to Jerome—the guy who played the Specter. As he sneered over at me, I took a seat in one of the old yellow backed chairs in the room. Despite Bennie’s encouragement, I felt like an utter failure and like taking on this assignment was a bad, bad idea.

But I
liked to stick with things and see them through until the end. So I was going to do this. Even if it killed me.

***

As soon as Jerome left, Mrs. Baker’s eyes softened. She threw her arms around me in a hug. “Gabby St. Claire! Look at you! It’s so good to see you again.”

I blinked at the transformation but hugged her back. “It’s good t
o see you, too, Mrs. Baker.”

“
It’s actually Mrs. Harper now, but you can call me Mrs. Baker if you’d like. At first, I kept correcting Paulette, but I finally saw it was doing no good. I’ll always be Mrs. Baker to her. So, now everyone here calls me Mrs. Baker, so you might as well, also.”

“For old times sake, maybe I’ll do just that.”

She squeezed my arm. “I couldn’t let them know I knew you. Sorry about that during rehearsal. I hated to do it, but I didn’t want anyone to get suspicious.”

“Totally understand.”
I’d underestimated her. She was a great actress.

S
he pulled back, but kept her hands on my arms, just like your favorite aunt might do when she hadn’t seen you in a few months. “You look good. Really good.”

“Thank you. I’m so excited to be working with you.”

She leaned close. “This whole experience has been somewhat of a nightmare, on more than one level. I mean, Scarlet, obviously. But having both the writer and producer here every evening?”

“I’m sure that makes it difficult.”

“Arie is a micromanager who critiques everything I do. She wanted to star in the play, as well, but I insisted there was too much of a conflict of interest and she had to pick someone else. And Paulette is a nervous wreck. Her anxiety starts to wear off on me after a while!”

“I can totally picture all of that.”