Free Christy Barritt - Squeaky Clean 08 - Foul Play by Christy Barritt

wasn’t sure about Paulette, but I was taking a moment to absorb everything that had happened.
    Finally, Paulette rubbed her hands against her designer jeans and glanced at me. “I didn’t mention this earlier, but my stage manager quit.”
    “Really?”
    She nodded. “He said he’d had enough and wanted to get out while he could.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Ms. Maggie quit too. She said something about wanting to babysit her grandkids, but I know the truth. She wanted out, also.”
    “I’m really sorry.”
    “Bennie offered to help out in the meantime.”
    “She seems nice.”
    Paulette nodded. “Everything in my life is falling apart, Gabby.”
    “It’s all going to work out. I just know it is.”
    She looked at me again. “You may not have had money, but you were the successful one, Gabby. You never let anything hold you back. I wish I had some of that gumption.”
    “You do. Look at this place. It’s amazing!”
    She smiled faintly. “Do you remember when you found that old time capsule?”
    The memory warmed me . It had been up “buried” up in the eaves above the auditorium and discovered during a renovation. “That was one of my proudest moments.”
    “I watched you up on the stage when you did a monolog about it. My dad was sitting beside me and afterward he told me that you were someone to watch for and that he was glad we were friends.”
    “That was nice.”
    “I remember thinking that he’d probably rather have you as a daughter.”
    “I happen to remember that I would have loved to be a part of your family. Besides, that’s not true. I know your father loves you.”
    “That’s what one of my therapists says too.”
    “Therapists?” One of them? How many did she have?
    S he nodded. “He says I’ve got to let go. That’s what I thought I was doing when I took on this project.”
    “Don’t get discouraged. I’m here. I’m going to help you.”
    “You were always good for that, Gabby.” She offered another sad smile and then stood. “I guess I should be getting home. Thanks again for everything.”
    “Any time.”
    We walked out to the parking lot. Just as we stepped onto the sidewalk, something in the direction of the bus ramp caught my eye. It was a man walking toward the back of the school!
    He froze when he spotted us and then ducked behind the building.
    “Stay there, Paulette!”
    I took off after him. As I rounded the corner, I spotted him ahead of me. He was dressed in all black, had a stocky build, and wore a dark hat. Other than those things, I couldn’t tell anything about him. Except … was that a tattoo snaking up his neck? I couldn’t tell for sure.
    My legs burned as I chased him.
    He darted toward the old track. I plunged into the nighttime, away from the overhead lights that made me feel safe. The cold air stung my lungs, but I continued to heave it into my chest. I couldn’t afford to slow down.
    I raced past the bleachers and stopped cold.
    Where had he gone?
    My gaze scanned the dark field in front of me. The stands that surrounded me offered too many hiding places to count. The man could have gone anywhere.
    I wasn’t ready to give up.
    I took my first step onto the track. I stayed light on my feet, trying not to give away my presence. I listened for any telltale sign of where he’d gone. There was nothing.
    I shivered, suddenly feeling exposed out here on the field. This wasn’t a smart idea. I was vulnerable.
    This case wasn’t worth dying over.
    I took a backward step toward the entrance.
    As I did, movement in the distance caught my eye.
    I looked over in time to see the man on the other side of the field.
    It didn’t matter, I realized. He was too far away for me to catch. The questions were: Who was he and what was he doing here?
     
    ***
     
    By the time I got back to my apartment, I smelled not only like blood but faintly of gasoline, a little bit of sweat, and probably a touch of Paulette’s expensive lilac perfume that saturated the