Christy Barritt - Squeaky Clean 07 - Mucky Streak by Christy Barritt

daughter was in her room upstairs.”
    The detective nodded. “Exactly. I doubt the daughter even heard anything happen downstairs. Her radio was blaring.”
    “Is there anyone you’d wished you’d investigated, but that you didn’t have a chance or means to pursue?”
    He shook his head. “If I had even an inkling that someone might have been involved, I questioned them. If I had even a hint that someone wasn’t telling the truth, I re-questioned them. As far as I’m concerned, I left no stone unturned.”
    “I see. What about Arnold James, the man who committed an eerily similar crime out in Missouri?”
    “He didn’t do it. The thing about most killers—killers like Arnold, who’s a true psychopath in my opinion—is that they want people to know who they are, to discover them. They’re twisted like that. They want the fame that being a murderer brings. If Arnold had done it, he would have owned up to it. Besides that, there’s the logistics. He was seen in Missouri on the morning the Mercer family was killed. There’s little chance he could have made it here in time, especially when you consider the planning that went into this crime.” He shook his head. “There’s just no way.”
    “What about the man who did the tile work inside their house? I know he passed away, but do you really think he was innocent?” I finished the last bite of my chili, my stomach full and satisfied.
    Detective Morrison sucked in a long breath. “He was my best lead. I really thought he could have done it. He even had a criminal history of abuse, but we could never prove anything. His wife claimed that he was at home that night. We tested his hands for gunpowder, his clothes for blood. There was nothing.”
    “Just one more question. About Edward Mercer. I’ve heard rumors of his liaisons. Did you talk to the women he was involved with?”
    He nodded. “All of the ones we could round up. More and more kept coming out of the woodwork. Believe me—we thoroughly questioned each of them. We came up with nothing.” He wiped his mouth. “The truth is that all of the people you just mentioned were our best guesses. The problem is that the whole case felt like a guessing game, and that’s the shame in it all. No one should get away with murder.”
    “I agree.”
    He finished his food and glanced at his watch. “Hour’s up. I don’t feel like I helped.”
    I wasn’t sure if he had either. But at least I had a feel for the case from his perspective. “Thank you for your time. I’ve got the check.”
    He waved goodbye to Holly and then left.
    This was going to be a harder case than I thought, and I wondered if I should call Garrett right now and tell him I was going back home and forget about it. I had to give it a little more time, though. Just a little more time.

 
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER 6
    As I was paying my bill, a shrill yell sounded from my p urse. “Help! Get me out of here! It’s so dark. Someone, save me … !” The voice was tinny and almost cartoon-like.
    Holly looked at me, her eyes wide with alarm. “What is that?”
    I smiled sheepishly as I reached into my purse and pulled out my cell. I held it up. “My friend Clarice not only put together my playlist for me, but she also programmed the ringtones on my phone before I left. She thought it would make me laugh, and I haven’t figured out how to change it yet.”
    “ Funny. I think I like this Clarice.”
    I glanced at the screen, know ing it wasn’t Riley. Clarice had programmed his ringtone as “That’s Amore.”
    I didn’t recognize the number, but I answered anyway. “Hello?”
    Sile nce stretched on the other line, first irritating me then raising my suspicions.
    “Hello?” I repeated.
    I was about to hang up when—
    “Stay away from this one, ” a gravely voice rumbled through the phone line.
    I froze , wishing with all of my might that the man was talking about the restaurant. I knew better. “What?”
    “Drop your