Double Black Diamond (Mercy Watts Mysteries) (22 page)

“I guess it would be. You know what else is hard to take?” I asked.
 

He pulled back. “Please don’t say your dad called and you’re on a case?”

Well…

“Aaron’s making menudo for dinner and we have to eat it.”
 

“What’s menudo?”
 

“Never mind. You might like it.”
 

There was a sharp rap on the door.
 

“Detective Carey?” I asked.
 

“Probably,” said Pete. “I sent him to Fergus’s condo first.”
 

I answered the door and Detective Carey’s eyes went wide the second he saw me. The hair. I forgot about the hair.
 

“I’ll be right back.” I ducked into the bathroom and Pete was right. My hair was totally Emerald City. Too bad I couldn’t get the Cowardly Lion look. His fur would’ve been an improvement. I stuck my head under the tap and combed it furiously. It didn’t help much, so I put on a thick headband and went back out.
 

Detective Carey leaned against the kitchen counter and shook his head. “You know, I got myself thinking that it was just the hair that made you look like her, but it isn’t.”
 

“Afraid not,” I said. “You have some questions about Nina?”

“Eddy Tramel says that you don’t believe it was an accident,” he said.
 

“It wasn’t an accident.” I retrieved my phone from the bedroom and showed him the pictures I’d taken on the hill.

“That doesn’t prove anything.”
 

I tilted my head. “If you’re looking for a signed confession, I don’t have one, but that snowboarder meant to hit Nina. He didn’t stop. Hell, he didn’t slow down. Didn’t you talk to Fergus?”
 

“That boy would believe the sky was yellow, if you told him so.”
 

“He saw what he saw. Eddy was there when he told me. Did Eddy say I prompted Fergus?”
 

“No, he didn’t.”
 

Pete crossed his arms. “So why do you think she’s lying now?”
 

Detective Carey looked up at the ceiling and heaved a sigh. “I don’t actually, but I’ve got nothing beyond suspicious marks in the snow.”
 

“And a witness,” I said.

“Who can’t identify the snowboarder. I’ve got nothing.”

“You’ve got two attacks in two days and a connection between the two,” I said.

Detective Carey’s eyes went all wary. “Connection?”
 

“Rory was delivering medicinal cannabis while he was here. He had at least one delivery to make and the bag he carried is missing.” I wasn’t going to give away that there were two deliveries that I knew about, since one was me.
 

“You know who that delivery was for.” Carey was pretty cool, but he couldn’t control the tiny twitch that had kicked into high gear next to his right eye.
 

“You don’t?” I asked.
 

More twitching. Much more. Carey got out his phone and got ready to type. “Who was it for?”
 

“How come you don’t know?” I grinned. I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help it.

“Tell me. I can get a material witness order.”

Pete jumped to attention and I rolled my eyes. “Shut up. You can not.”

“You have information I need. The courts have given us a lot of latitude in that regard.”

“They haven’t given you permission to violate doctor/patient privilege, have they?”
 

Carey ground his teeth and Pete said, “No, they haven’t.”
 

I hooked Pete’s arm around my waist. “He’s a doctor. I’m a nurse. We’re not idiots in this regard. We have to assume that whatever was in that bag was prescribed by a doctor. Open Mind Medicinals has everybody and their brother sign confidentiality agreements, so they’re not going to tell you who it was for or what it was.”

“But you know,” said Carey.
 

“I figured it out, which doesn’t make me a material witness,” I said. “Besides, do you really want to haul me in over this? I’m not going to violate anybody’s privilege and what I know is speculation anyway. How’s this going to make you look? I walked around and put two and two together. Your colleagues will wonder why you couldn’t.”
 

“God damn it, Miss Watts,” said Detective Carey. “Rory Dushane is in a coma. He may never wake up.”
 

“I’m sure his father knows that and he still didn’t violate privilege. Look. I want to help you.”

“Really? It sure doesn’t look like it.”
 

“I’ll tell you what I can, but not what I can’t.”
 

Detective Carey rubbed his eyes. “Rory was attacked and then Nina Symoan. So I’m guessing what you won’t tell me is that someone in DBD was getting that delivery.”
 

I said nothing.
 

“But they didn’t get the delivery, because why stab the messenger, if he was going to give it to you anyway.”
 

Still silent.
 

“Did you and Nina talk about the stabbing today while skiing?” asked Detective Carey.

“Nope. Not a word about it.”
 

“Did she seem nervous or edgy?”
 

“Not at all. She was charming and happy,” I said.
 

“Did you tell her that she was targeted?”
 

“Not directly, but she heard what Fergus said.”
 

He rubbed his eyes again. “Okay. Who is Fergus Borthwick? I couldn’t get a straight answer out of him about the association between you two.”
 

“He’s my new stalker,” I said.
 

Detective Carey dropped his hand. “What? He’s your stalker?”
 

“She gets them all the time,” said Pete. “Guys see her pictures on the internet and they follow her around for a couple of days.”
 

“Then they figure out that I’m seriously boring and go away,” I said.
 

“Miss Watts, I’m quite sure you are many, many things, but boring cannot be one of them. You’ve been here three days so far and know two people who’ve nearly been murdered. That’s not quite ordinary.”
 

“It’s ordinary for Mercy,” said Pete.

“I’d call it an aberration,” I said.
 

Both men raised one eyebrow each at me.
 

“It is,” I said. “Last week absolutely nothing happened. The biggest excitement was a sale on bananas at Whole Foods. Costa Rican. I was thrilled.”
 

Detective Carey looked at Pete. “Is she like this all the time?”
 

“Pretty much. You should meet her father.”

“I don’t think I can handle it. So Fergus is your stalker and that’s why he was behind you on Bouncer?”
 

“Correct,” I said.
 

“And you just happened to meet Rory Dushane on the night someone stabbed him in the neck?”
 

“Right again.”
 

“And now you’re running around asking questions because, what, you’re curious?” asked Detective Carey.

“It’s a family trait.” I grinned.

“Is there anything else you can tell me?”
 

Before I could answer, his phone rang. He answered and said, “Shit. I’ll be right there.”
 

“What happened?” asked Pete.

“Mickey Stix just got back from the hospital and he and Wade Cave are beating the shit out of each other at the Belgian Bean.” Detective Carey ran out of the door and we stared after him for a second.
 

“I don’t know about you,” I said, “but I kind of want to go down there.”
 

Pete burst into laughter. “Me, too. What is wrong with us?”

“Nothing’s wrong with you. You’re practically perfect in every way.”
 

“I’m not feeling so perfect lately.”
 

I was going to protest, but I didn’t since I still didn’t know why I had to lie about Millicent and Myrtle.
 

“You know, this vacation hasn’t been quite as relaxing as I thought it would be,” he said.
 

“I know what you mean,” I said.

“It’s not going to get anymore relaxing, is it?”
 

I turned on my phone and dropped it in my purse. I wanted to lie and reassure him, but it was wrong. If we were going to stick together, he’d have to come to grips with me and how things are, sooner rather than later. “No,” I said.

“Because of that stabbing and Nina Symoan?”

“Because of me. I’m involved. I don’t know why exactly yet, but I have to find out.”
 

He kissed my forehead. “Do what you got to do. I’ll be here when you’re done.”
 

I smelled the menudo before we opened Uncle Morty’s door, meaty with a stank undercurrent from the tripe. What I didn’t smell was crab. Hooray!

“That smells great,” said Pete. “What did you say it was?”

“Menudo. It’s a Mexican soup.”
 

“I love Mexican.”
 

We’ll see.

Uncle Morty yanked open the door before we had a chance to knock. “Where the hell have you been? Buffing your nails?”
 

“That was Pete. He’s a habitual nail buffer,” I said.
 

Uncle Morty gave him a look like serial killers are known to buff their nails and Pete might just be one.

“She’s kidding,” said Pete. “I have nail clippers. That’s it.”
 

“Alright then. You can come in.”
 

We entered and the theme of the evening was immediately apparent. Aaron was stirring a stock pot filled with (blech) menudo. There were heaps of freshly fried potato chips in big bowls on the counter, next to a cast-iron skillet with fundido, and the dead giveaway, five tins of Bawls mints.
 

“Planning an all-nighter?” I asked.
 

Uncle Morty pumped his fist. “I finally got one. If you’re good, I might let you touch it.”
 

I’m afraid of what ‘it’ is.

“That’s okay,” I said. “I’m good. No touching is great for me.”
 

“Is that an Adman Grandstand?” Pete’s voice went up an octave on Grandstand. What the heck?

“Yes it is!” crowed Uncle Morty. “I scored it this morning.”
 

“What’s an Adman Grandstand?” I asked.

“It’s a— ” Pete stopped with a jolt with me staring at him. “I mean, I think it’s a game thing.”
 

Rodney hobbled out of his bedroom on crutches. “Mint condition with…wait for it…Astro Wars!”
 

I nodded like I knew what they were going on about. I’m the master of nodding when I’m clueless. Then it got weirder. Calvin and Nancy came out of the living room, carrying Coronas with limes, and looking tipsy.
 

“Come on,” said Calvin. “You remember this game. Uncle Leo brought it back from Europe on one of his business trips. He found it in a junk shop. You two played it for two days straight.”
 

Nancy laughed. “They were disgusting. No showers and covered in Dorito dust.”
 

“Whatever happened to that console?” asked Pete.

“Aunt Bethal sat on it.”
 

Calvin shook his head. “It didn’t stand a chance. Aunt Bethal was a big girl.”

“She didn’t notice it was under her for a full thirty minutes.”
 

Then they all broke up laughing and staggering around. I’d just gotten used to the NPR-listening, Scrabble-playing parents who didn’t know a thing about popular culture. Who were these people?
 

Nancy got herself together and took my arm. “Let ‘em play. The big goofs. We’ll cook with Aaron.” She dragged me into the kitchen. “Do you know what he’s cooking? It’s unbelievable.”

I agree.

“Menudo is the best.”

The best what?

“I love menudo.” Nancy patted Aaron’s back and then hugged him. Okay. Now that’s just disturbing. Aaron was not huggable by anyone, least of all prim and proper Nancy. Especially not Aaron that night. He was in rare form with a combo of helmet hair and bedhead going on, a Tron tee so faded it was a kind of orangey grey. It had so many holes, Aaron’s back hair was escaping. I didn’t know he had back hair and I wish I still didn’t. I don’t want to talk about the stains, except to say there were stains, multi-colored and questionable.
 

“Do you need help?” I asked.
 

Please say no.

“Taste this.” Aaron held up a spoon with a loose red liquid and, gulp, a white lacy chunk of tripe in it.
 

“Um…”

“I’ll try it.” Nancy took the spoon and gulped it down. I don’t think she chewed, which I recommend when eating menudo. “Excellent. You’re a menudo genius.”
 

I’d never heard the words menudo and genius put together before, but this was starting to make sense. Nancy was a horrific cook, so of course she liked menudo. Tripe was a step up.