Christy Barritt - Squeaky Clean 07 - Mucky Streak (15 page)

No, this was not the kind of man I pictured
Cassidy Mercer with.

Had he changed in the years since she died?
Or had he always looked and lived like this? I wanted to find out.

I was thankful that Holly was with me right now. She had experience with stuff like this. Visiting people. Assessing their situations. Making determinations.

I had experience with assessing crime scenes and bloodstain patterns. I was getting better with the people part. But I constantly had to watch what I said so I wouldn’t offend anyone. Holly seemed to have more of a gift with words and social graces.

Marty Mart gestured
toward the couch.

“Have a seat.” His words slurred together.

Holly and I shoved some magazines out of the way—and a couple of fast food wrappers, as well as beer bottles—and then sat down. Marty lowered himself onto a torn barstool across from us. He grabbed a brown bottle and took a long swig.

He sat the bottle on the table with a loud
clank
. “I’m not sure how much help I’m going to be.”

“You never know when something someone says might reveal a clue that investigators haven’t picked up on yet,” I started.
Of course, if you weren’t drunk, you might think more clearly.
On the other hand, sometimes people revealed more under the influence of alcohol, so maybe I shouldn’t complain. “So, how long did you and Cassidy date?”

He
shrugged. “About six months.”

I pulled out my handy-dandy notebook—like any good detective would—and began jotting some notes.
“Where did you meet?”

“At school. I went there on a scholarship, much to the disappointment of
Cassidy’s parents. They sent her to a private school to get her away from kids like me.”

“So, there was animosity between all of you?” I asked.
It made sense to me.

“To say the least.
” He let out a long belch before tapping his chest with his fist. “We kept our relationship quiet after the first blow out with her mom.”

“What was that blow out like?”
I prodded.

“Her mom was hot under the collar
when she found out the two of us were dating. Thought Cassidy could do better. She was right. She could have done better. A lot better. She thought I was going to bring her daughter down.”

I could see why, but I kept that thought silent, and instead asked,
“What did Cassidy say to that?”

“
Cassidy wouldn’t let me break up with her. She insisted she loved me, and that we just had to keep our relationship on the down low.”

“Do you think she really cared for you?” I kept my voice soft, trying not to sound judgmental. But it sounded like
Cassidy Mercer was the type who might do things like date a bad boy just to get her parents’ attention.

He shrugged. “Yeah, I like to think so. She stuck by me, even when I acted like a jerk.”

“Did her parents ever find out that you stayed together?” I continued.

He
nodded. “Yeah, about a week before they died. They ordered her to stop dating me. Said they’d send her to boarding school if she didn’t.”

“
How did she take that news?”

“Not well.
Cassidy liked to do her own thing.”

“Did you ever wonder if you were just one way
Cassidy was trying to get her parents to notice her?” Asking the question was a risk, but I wanted to take it.

“Of course. A girl
like her? A guy like me? We were an unlikely match, to say the least.”

“But you both liked to party?” I projected.
“Is that what you had in common?”

“
I didn’t. Not at first. After Cassidy and I started dating, she introduced me to some party drugs. I tried to stay away from that scene, but I’d tag along with her, trying to keep an eye on her. Eventually, I tried a few things to take the edge off.”

Cassidy got him hooked on drugs? That was an interesting and unexpected development.

“It sounds like you really cared about her,” Holly started. “That you were trying to watch out for her.”

He frowned. “I loved her. I wanted to marry her after she graduated. She said she had to go to college, but that I was cute.
I felt like she was being condescending at the time. But there were areas of her life where she rebelled and others where she felt like she needed to be compliant. College was one of those compliant areas.”

“Can you tell me anything about the night she died?”
I continued.

“Yeah, we were supposed to go out.
My friend was having a killer party. Mr. Mercer insisted that Cassidy had to stay home. Said that her brother was coming into town, and that they needed to have a family meeting. Cassidy talked about sneaking out. I told her not to.” His face looked pinched. “For once I was trying to be responsible, and look where it got me.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Holly said, her voice soft with compassion.

“The one time she wasn’t rebellious, and she ended up dead. Isn’t that just like life? The ones who eat healthy get cancer, the ones who drive carefully are hit by drunk drivers, the ones who are faithful in marriage are cheated on.”

I glanced at Holly, hoping what he’d said about cancer didn’t upset her. She didn’t even flinch.

“Did she have any idea what the meeting was about?” I asked.

He shrugged. “N
ot really sure. She thought the family might be moving again. Apparently, the Mercers liked to move every three or four years. She said she wasn’t going to go with them, that she was going to stay with me, finish high school, and then go to college.”

“And you said?”

“I reminded her that her trust fund didn’t become available until she was 21 and that she’d have a hard time making a way on her own. I loved Cassidy, but the girl had no idea what real life was like. She didn’t know what it was like to want anything or to have to work for things, to earn them.”

“Did she mention the family having any problems?”
I asked.

He shrugged and took another chug of his beer.
“Just the normal stuff. Her dad was never home. Her mom just wanted to look pretty. I mean, I guess they cared about her, in their own way. I’ve never understood rich people.”

I stared at my paper, contemplating what else I needed to ask.
I came up blank. “Anything else you want to add?”

He straightened on the stool. “
There is one thing. I was sneaking to see her once, and I overheard something that’s stuck with me to this day.”

I leaned closer.
“What’s that?”

“Mr. Mercer was outside, pacing on the patio. I’d snuck to their house. I’d parked on the road and cut through the woods. I came up around the side of the house, and he didn’t see me. I didn’t see him. I heard him first. He was
on the phone and he was yelling at someone. He said something about an agreement that he had with someone. He shouted about money. He sounded steamed.”

Finally, something that could lead somewhere!
“Did you have any idea what the conversation was about?”

“To be honest, I assumed he was probably trying to pay off some woman so that she’d stay quiet about
an inappropriate relationship.” He used air quotes as his words slurred. “Cassidy said he had a history of that.”

I nodded, noting the common thread. Apparently, everyone knew about Edward Mercer’s reputation with women. I felt sorry for his wife, and even amazed that she’d stuck with him through all of that.
“I’ve heard that from more than one person.”

Marty Mart
scowled. “Listen, I want justice for my girl. I haven’t been the same since she died. So there was one other thing I remember hearing from that conversation.”

I leaned closer. “Okay.”

“I heard a name. Sebastian.”

CHAPTER 17

I sucked in a quick breath.
“Did you tell the police that?”

Marty Mart
shook his head. “I was going to. But then someone left a note on my door. Said if I said too much that the same thing that happened to the Mercers would happen to my family.”

“So you stayed silent?”

He shrugged. “Can you blame me?”

In all truthfulness, I guess I couldn’t.

“Besides, I was the primary focus of their investigation for a while. It was awful. I couldn’t keep up with my studies and dropped out of the private school. It was fine by me. Too many bad memories there anyway.”

“Why would they think you were guilty?” I had a few theories, but I wanted to hear what he had to say.

He counted it out with his fingers. “Turbulent relationship with her parents. Them forbidding us to see each other. Me coming from the wrong side of the tracks. I’m sure you can fill in the blanks.”

“But you wouldn’t have murdered
Cassidy if that was the case,” I reasoned.

His eyes lit
, and he slapped one hand into the other. “Exactly. That’s what I kept saying. Her death tore me up. There’s no way I would hurt her.”

“I mean, ma
ybe if she’d broken up with you—” I stopped mid-sentence. “She didn’t break up with you, did she?”

He scowled.
“No, she didn’t break up with me. Ask her BFF and she’ll tell you the same.”

I studied his face a moment. Could I trust what he was telling me?

“What was the police’s reason for suspecting you then?”

“They said I was drugged out and t
hat I hadn’t realized the extent of my actions. Drugs can make you do crazy things. I won’t argue that. But I didn’t kill anyone. Especially not Cassidy.”

“Why’d they finally let you go?”

“They couldn’t find any evidence to hold me. Everything was circumstantial.” He snickered. “Yeah, even I learned a few things from that ordeal.”

“But let me guess. Your DNA was at the house
probably. You own a gun—or had access to one. You were doing drugs. And you probably left tire tracks on the road outside their home from your visits.”

His gaze darkened. “I know that looks bad. But here’s the other thing I forgot to mention. I had an alibi that evening. I
got into a car accident coming from a party about twenty minutes before the crime occurred.”

***

As we were walking to the car—and before I even had a chance to rehash the conversation with Holly—my cellphone screamed for help from inside my purse. I really had to change that ringtone.

The number had the same area code as the Pittsburgh P.I. Could he be calling me from a different phone, maybe to give me an update?
A girl could only hope.

I answered. “This is Gabby.”

“This is Detective Larson with the Pittsburgh Police Department. I’m calling about Bradley Perkins.”

I slowed my steps
. “Okay.”

“Would you mind giving me your name, ma’am?”

I had my hesitations about giving out my name. But if this man really was a detective, there was a good chance he already knew my name. “My name is Gabby St. Claire.”

“Ms. St. Claire, d
id you know Mr. Perkins?”

“No,
sir. I’d only spoken with him yesterday.” Where was this going? If my gut was right, it wasn’t any place good.

“May
I ask about the nature of the call?” the detective asked.

“
Certainly. Mr. Perkins was a P.I. He worked a case that I’ve currently been hired to work. I called to pick his brain on information he may have discovered in his investigation.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and climbed into the Mustang.

“So, you’re a private investigator?”

“I’m new to the scene, but yes, I am.”

“Where are you now,
ma’am?”

“I’m in Cincinnati.
If you don’t mind me asking, what’s with all of these questions? I didn’t exploit any confidentiality issues when I spoke with Mr. Perkins. I simply asked a few questions.”

“
Mr. Perkins was found murdered this morning. We’re looking into everyone who was in contact with him in the days before he died. Yours was the last number on his cellphone.”

“Murdered? Are you sure?”

“A bullet through the head doesn’t lie.”

I closed my eyes and froze. “That’s terrible.”

And it was the same way the Mercer family had died.

Coincidence? I couldn’t be sure.

But my gut told me no.

“Did he mention anything suspect to you?”

I replayed our conversation. “He said he was meeting with someone later that day. A reporter was my impression. He was apparently being paid to talk about the murder of the Mercer family.”

Puzzle
pieces began fitting together. What if that meeting was just a ploy to kill him? But why? Why would someone kill Bradley Perkins?

After I hung up,
I turned to Holly. “The plot thickens.”

***

“What are we doing?” Holly asked as we pulled up to Rolling Hills Country Club.

I stared at the building in front of me.
“It’s like this. Sebastian borrowed a substantial amount of money from Edward Mercer before he died. Apparently, the two of them had a misunderstanding as far as the terms of the so-called loan.”

“How much are you talking?”