Double Black Diamond (Mercy Watts Mysteries) (15 page)

The condo was fabulous, larger than Rory’s with three bedrooms and a huge kitchen in which Aaron was cooking Rodney’s favorites, Worf burgers, asiago cheese scalloped potatoes, and Metaphysical malts, all straight off the menu of their restaurant, Kronos.
 

Rod was propped up in bed with ten pillows, surrounded by not one but five game systems that the guys had flown in with. His right arm was in a temporary cast and his right leg was elevated with bags of peas bunched over the knee. I’d bought six bags to make sure he had a steady supply. Rod managed to tear his meniscus and would need an MRI to assess the severity.
 

“How’s that?” I asked. “Too cold?”

“It’s okay. So Pete says I can snowboard again when it heals,” said Rodney, grinning.
 

They may have given him too many painkillers. Who would want to snowboard again after that first run?
 

“Maybe we’ll stick with Triple Stomp X for awhile.”

Also known as forever.

Rodney yawned. “Screw that. The real thing was groovy.”
 

Groovy?

“The real thing lasted five minutes.” I tucked him in. “I thought you were dead.”

“I wasn’t close to dead. I was groovy.”
 

I raised an eyebrow at Pete. “What did you give him?”
 

“Lortab and Celebrex. Low doses,” said Pete.
 

Rodney started snoring and I took the game controller out of his hand.
 

Pete glanced at the open bedroom door and then looked at me. “I’m sorry.”
 

“Did Uncle Morty talk to you?” I asked.

“Him and everybody else.”
 

“Was there yelling?”
 

“I’ve been reminded of how lucky I am, loudly.” Pete gazed at me intensely. “I won’t forget.”
 

I scooted to the edge of the bed. Luckily, before I put my foot down, I remembered to look. There was Wallace waiting with an open mouth and staring at my stockinged toes. She hadn’t forgiven me for locking her in the bedroom and apparently peeing in my suitcase wasn’t punishment enough.
 

Bark.

“Can you get this dog?” I asked.
 

Pete picked up a snarling Wallace and pinned her under his arm. “So how mad are you?”
 

“No madder than I was before. Your mom is another story.”
 

“Yeah. She hates lying for any reason.”

“What exactly did you tell her about me?” I asked.
 

“Nothing and she considers omissions to be the same as lying,” he said.
 

I ran my fingers through my helmet hair and glared at him. “It’s really going to hit the fan when they find out about Millicent and Myrtle. They’re a pretty big omission.”
 

Pete opened his mouth, but Nancy bustled in with a steaming mug of hopefully something she didn’t make. “Oh the poor dear is asleep,” she said.
 

“He’ll be out for a while,” said Pete.
 

Nancy gave him the stink eye. “Have you apologized to Mercy for lying about her to your father and I?”
 

“Yes, ma’am.”
 

“A sincere apology?”
 

“Yes, ma’am,” said Pete.
 

She turned to me and her gaze softened. “Have you accepted his apology?”
 

“Yes, ma’am.” What was wrong with me? I never said ma’am.

“All right then. That’s settled,” said Nancy. “You are who you are and we like you just fine. Come now. Morton has a new game he’s desperate to show you.”
 

She went to Rodney, checking his temperature and straightening the comforter, while we left before Pete did something else wrong.
 

“So,” I whispered. “Are you ever going to tell me why we can’t talk about the Bleds?”
 

He shushed me. My boyfriend actually shushed me.

“Pete, if you don’t—”

“I’ll pay you to be quiet,” he said with desperate eyes darting toward Calvin a mere ten feet away.
 

“How much?” I asked.
 

“I have fifty bucks on me.” He started to get out his wallet.
 

“Put that away, you freak. You’re going to pay me with answers.”
 

“I will. I swear.”
 

We went into the living room and got an earful about the new game, Titanfall, which Morty had been given a prerelease copy. He called it an advantage to being a famous author. I called it mind-numbing. After about twenty minutes I was ready to crawl out of my skin. It was six o’clock and I had to figure a way out of there, if I wanted to get down to Aprés to interview Rory’s friend, Lyndsay, about last night. It was just too cozy in there. I was hoping after Aaron’s huge burgers and the copious amount of cheese in the potatoes my jailers might snooze out, but no. That game was keeping them sharp. If I managed to slip away unnoticed, Calvin and Nancy were in the way. They’d found a battered Scrabble game and were battling it out at the kitchen table over whether or not Chaucer’s Middle English should be allowed. Nancy had used kowthe and Calvin was incensed about it.
 

My eyes settled on Fergus, who wasn’t playing and did look vaguely confused about what was going on. Maybe gaming wasn’t his thing. So far he’d been a huge pain, but there was a chance he could prove useful.
 

I stood up and stretched, casually edging toward Rodney’s bedroom.
 

“Where’re you going?” asked Uncle Morty, his voice gruff and eyes sharp.
 

“To check on Rodney.”
 

His focus went back to the enormous robot on the screen. I caught Fergus’s eye and inclined my head to Rodney’s bedroom. The little guy jumped up, nearly spilling the chips, and raced over. Subtle. Real subtle.
 

I went in and checked Rodney. He was still out cold, but the knee was swelling despite the peas. Not good.
 

“What can I do for you?” asked Fergus.
 

I pulled him away from the door and whispered. “You still want to help me?”
 

“You’ll let me help with the investigation?”

No.
 

“Sort of. I need you to distract everyone so I can get out of here unnoticed.”

“That doesn’t sound helpful.”
 

“It’s hugely helpful.” I had to tell Fergus something. He wasn’t going for it. “I have to interview a suspect.”
 

He did a huge intake of breath. “In the stabbing.”
 

“Yes, but I can’t do it, if I can’t get out of here. They won’t want me to do this at all.”

“I can go and help you to interview,” said Fergus, eyes shining.
 

“Your job is to distract them. We’re a…a team,” I said.
 

Fergus clasped his hands. “Really?”
 

I’m going to hell for this.

“Yes. You and me, a team. I’m counting on you.”
 

“I will do it. How do I do it?” asked Fergus.
 

“Go in there and tell them that you think
Battlestar Galactica’s
premise is stupid.”
 

Fergus gasped. “They’ll kill me. You don’t want them to kill me.”
 

“They won’t physically hurt you.”
 

I hope.
 

I swiveled him around and pushed him to the door. “Count to ten and then do it.”
 

He looked me in the eye over his shoulder. “And you’ll tell me everything you find out?”
 

“I’ll tell you everything that I think is relevant to your helping with the case.”
 

Fergus narrowed his eyes as he thought over my sentence. Happily, it proved too confusing and he went out into the living room. I put on my boots and tucked my wallet up under my bulky sweater. I hate sweaters. With my chest, I end up looking like Spongebob Squarepants. Not a good thing in a human.
 

I peeked out. Fergus was fidgeting next to the guys. Aaron was in the kitchen, whipping up a pan of Dulce de Leche brownies and had his back to me and Nancy had just laid down the tiles for unethye and Calvin’s eyes were popping out.
 

Do it now, Fergus. Now!

Fergus cleared his throat. “Um…I think
Battlestar Galactica’s
premise is stupid and patently trite.”

Even better.

“What the hell did you say?” asked Uncle Morty, heaving his bulk out of the cushy wingback chair.
 

 
I sidestepped toward the door and turned the handle. Everyone was looking at poor Fergus. I opened the door.
 

I’m there.

Wallace came out of nowhere and launched herself at my leg, yapping and snarling.
 

“Stop it. Stop it, you nightmare,” I hissed at the undeterred Wallace.

Everyone pivoted and stared at me.
 

“What are you doing?” asked Nancy.
 

“Yeah,” said Uncle Morty.
 

I scooped up Wallace. She only bit me twice. “I’m going to walk Wallace. I think she has to go.”
 

“Okay. Her leash is by the door.”
 

Uncle Morty was still glaring at me. I could still go, but there was a chance that he’d hoof it after me. That’s when Fergus spoke and he truly became part of the team. If I had a team, that is.
 

“George Lucas stole
Star Wars
from Akira Kurosawa.”
 

The uproar was so loud and heated I’m surprised the paint didn’t peel off the ceiling. I grabbed my giant purse and Wallace’s leash and was out before anyone noticed.
 

I ran down to the elevator and punched the down button. Wallace had stopped snarling and looked quite pleased.
 

“You know, if there was a laundry chute, you’d be in it,” I said.
 

Bark.
 

“You think you’re cute but you smell like wet dog even though you’re dry. I call that a problem.”
 

Bark.
 

“Your sweater’s ugly.”
 

Growl.
 

The elevator dinged and doors opened. I went in with the stink dog because there was no laundry chute or any reasonable way to ditch her. The doors started to close and Aaron trotted up. The doors bounced off his belly and reopened. He stepped in and stood beside me, like I had expected him all along.
 

“I thought you were cooking,” I said as I pushed the button.
 

“Nope.”
 

“What about the brownies?”
 

“Nancy can handle it,” said Aaron.
 

“Oh my god. No, she can’t. She’s a terrible cook. I mean really really bad. Smell my shirt.” I held out my arm.

“Don’t need to. I can smell you from here.”
 

“That’s the dog,” I said.
 

Bark.
 

We looked down. I totally expected Wallace to be peeing on my feet or gnawing on Aaron’s leg, but she was doing neither. She was doing that adorable pug smile up at Aaron, just short of adoration.
 

“Do you have bacon in your pocket?” I asked.
 

“Everybody likes me.”
 

I sniffed. “You smell like hot dogs. It’s the hot dogs. She doesn’t like anyone, except Nancy.”

“She likes me.”
 

Sweet little bark.
 

“Well, she pees on me.”
 

“Yep.”
 

“And she bites me.”
 

“Uh huh.” He said it like it was only to be expected that a dog would pee on and bite me. “Where’re we going?”
 

“Aprés to talk to Rory Dushane’s friends.”
 

Aaron didn’t ask me why. He never did. It was his best quality. Other than the hot chocolate.
 

Aprés was crowded that night and the bar was a buzz with talk of the stabbing. I threaded through the crowd, found a table for two in the back, only to discover I’d been abandoned. I caught a glimpse of Aaron disappearing into the kitchen. You can’t take Aaron anywhere without him finding the nearest kitchen and taking it over. That usually worked out well for me, except when he found crab in that kitchen. Aaron loved crab as much as I hated it.
 

I sat on the sticky wooden chair and picked up the bar menu. No crab on the appetizer list. I was safe. I scanned the bar over the laminated card. I wasn’t sure I’d recognize Rory’s friends. They were pretty nondescript compared to him. But as it turned out Mark and Austin weren’t hard to spot at all. In a bar full of joyous healthy people, they were morose and hunched over untouched beers. Two girls were with them. I would say they were familiar, but only in the way that all the girls were. Young, pretty, long flowing hair. Lovely in an uninteresting way. They were all so distressed, I’d have to come up with a good opener. I’d had some experience with grief and it doesn’t always come with death. They’d lost their innocence. Copper was a place of happiness, not a place of danger. Unless I’d missed my guess this was the first and worst bad thing that had ever happened to this small group of average teens. I had never been an average teen. Life had made sure of that, but I felt for them. I remembered the first time I came face-to-face with death when Dad’s partner Cora had been murdered. The shock of it was something that never quite left me. The world wasn’t safe. Before the moment Mom told me, I didn’t know that. Now I could never unknow it. I can’t tell you how much I wished I could forget.
 

Express your sympathy. Eloquently. Do it like someone who doesn’t get peed on.
 

Bark.
 

“Shhhh,” I said to my purse.