Double Black Diamond (Mercy Watts Mysteries) (24 page)

When we got outside, I expected smoke to be coming out of Rory’s windows, but there wasn’t any.
 

“Where’s the smoke?” asked Kera.
 

“I guess it can’t get out. The windows are intact,” I said.
 

A man in a fluffy plaid robe next to me said, “It can’t be that bad if there’s no smoke.”
 

Kera started shivering and Fergus took off his coat and put it around her shoulders.
 

“No,” she said. “You’ll freeze.”
 

“It will be my pleasure,” said Fergus with a slight bow.
 

A firefighter came out of the building and took off his helmet. “Ladies and gentleman, the fire has been contained. You’ll have to stay out here just a few minutes more.” He turned to go back in.
 

“Stay here,” I said to Kera.
 

“Where’re you going?” asked Uncle Morty.
 

I didn’t bother to answer. More questions would only follow. Only Uncle Morty’s fixation on the game had kept him from wondering exactly why we had Kera with us. I ran into the building behind the firefighter and tugged on his thick sleeve. “Excuse me.”

“Ma’am, you’ll have to wait outside,” he said, not looking at me.

Ma’am? I’m a Miss.
 

“I will, but I believe it was the condo my friend was staying in that was on fire. Can you tell me what happened?”
 

“Who’s your friend?” he asked, finally focusing on my face.
 

“Kera. She’s a friend of the owner’s son, Rory Dushane.”
 

“Where is she right now?”
 

“Outside,” I said.
 

He chewed his chapped lip. “You’re Mercy Watts, aren’t you?”
 

“I am. How’d you know?”
 

“Get this Kera and bring her in. Someone wants to have a word with you,” he said.
 

“Someone?”

He gave me a curt nod that meant shut it and move, so I did. I found Kera cuddled up to Fergus, who looked like he’d eaten the canary and the cat. “I need Kera to come with me.”
 

“Why? What’d I do?” Her eyes were wide with fright.
 

“Nothing. The firefighters want to talk to you.”
 

She bit her lip and reluctantly came with me. We followed the firefighter into the building. He led us through to the lockers where Detective Carey in full cowboy getup was conferring with a couple other firefighters and a guy that looked like he might be management.
 

“Miss Watts, I should’ve known you’d be in the vicinity,” said Carey.
 

“It’s not a gigantic leap. I’m staying in the building,” I said.
 

“Something tells me you’d have been around even if you weren’t.” His wry expression softened. “Hello, Kera.”
 

“Hi,” said Kera in a small voice. “What happened?”
 

“Well, it looks like someone broke into the condo and torched it.”
 

She moved closer to me and I put my arm around her shoulders.
 

“With what?” I asked.
 

“Smells like lighter fluid to me, but we’ll have to wait for the test to come back. You were with Mercy at the time, I assume,” said Detective Carey.
 

She nodded. “I fell asleep on the couch.”
 

Carey’s eyes shifted to me. “She never left?”
 

“I couldn’t say. I was asleep in one of the bedrooms, but the guys can tell you. They were still playing.”
 

“Who are these guys?”
 

“My uncle Morty and his friends, Rodney and Aaron. My boyfriend was out there I think. Oh and Fergus,” I said.
 

“Your stalker?”
 

“Uncle Morty invited him. Don’t ask me why.”
 

“Your uncle invited your stalker over,” said Carey.

“He’s not my real uncle if that helps.”
 

“It doesn’t. What’s his full name?”
 

“Morton Barclay Van Der Hoof,” I said.
 

“Of course it is.” Carey nodded to the other detective. “Morris, why don’t you take Miss Langley out and talk to Mr. Van Der Hoof.”
 

Morris’s lips twitched at Uncle Morty’s name. That often happened, which was why he used a pen name for his epic fantasies. Kera left with Morris. Next to his bulk, she seemed smaller and more fragile by the second.
 

“So,” I said, “you wanted to talk to me alone.”
 

Carey smiled. “Picked up on that, did you?”
 

“I did. Something you didn’t want to ask in front of Kera?”

“Oh, I’ll ask her, but I want to hear what you have to say first,” said Carey.

“Shoot,” I said.
 

Please don’t know about Keegan’s oil.

“Why was Kera with you? How do you two know each other?”
 

“We met at Aprés. I expressed my sympathies about Rory,” I said.
 

“This was the night that Victor Mooting yelled at her and the other friends?” he asked. A smile flickered on his thin lips. He’d figured it out. A little late, but that’s better than never.
 

“You found out about that,” I said.

“I did. There were plenty of witnesses with less discretion than you or Kera and her friends. So Rory had a delivery for someone in DBD and Mooting thought Kera had it.”
 

“Seemed that way to me. Any idea who broke into the condo?” I asked.
 

“Not yet. You got in Mooting’s face that night and again today. What do you think of him?”
 

“I think he’s an ass, but I don’t know what good torching Rory’s apartment would do him.”
 

Carey nodded. “So you’re working for DBD now.”
 

“Not really. I just said that to keep Victor from losing it.”
 

“How would you feel about letting that ride for a few days?” He crossed his arm and gave me an appraising look that I recognized from Dad. It’s the dectective’s going to use me look.

“And see what I can find out about that group of nutbags.”

“I’ve interviewed everyone in their group twice and nobody will say word one about Mickey or Wade or anything remotely to do with the band. I need someone in there. You were right when you said there was a connection, but without more information about what’s going on, I’m nowhere.”
 

“You realize that I’m supposed to be on vacation, right?” I asked, crossing my arms.
 

“How’s that going so far?” he said with a smirk.

“Not great,” I said. “I’ll do it on one condition.”
 

“I don’t do conditions.”

“Then you don’t have a person connected with DBD.” I smirked back.
 

Carey clinched and unclinched his jaw. “What’s the condition? I’ll think about it.”
 

“What happened in Rory’s apartment?”
 

“It was torched. I already told you that.”
 

“The whole thing? Just Rory’s bed? Was it trashed prior to the fire? There’s lots of possibilities and they all mean something,” I said.
 

“How much do you work for your father?” he asked.
 

“More than I’d like. Are you going to tell me or what?”
 

“It wasn’t tossed beforehand and the fire was set in front of the exits. All the exits.” Carey frowned.
 

I sat down on the wooden bench and drew my knees up to my chest, aware the whole group was now looking at me. “Was Rory’s bedroom door closed?”
 

Carey’s brow wrinkled. “I don’t remember.”
 

The firefighter that had brought me in stepped up. “It was closed.”
 

“They were trying to kill Kera,” I said, suddenly chilled.
 

The firefighter shook his head. “I think she could’ve escaped, even if she’d been there. It wasn’t that bad. We were on the scene quickly. Plus, there were three fire extinguishers in the condo.”
 

“Success isn’t the point,” said another firefighter. “They were trying to kill her or at least seriously scare her.”
 

Morris came back in the room and said, “Mr. Van Der Hoof confirms that Miss Langley never left his condo.”
 

I stood up, rubbing my arms. The cold just kept getting worse. “We were going to call you in the morning.”
 

Carey perked up. “About what?”

“Kera thinks the condo was searched while she was out today. Things were moved. She’s sure about it. Also, Victor Mooting has been trying to talk to her. He came to her work, but she wouldn’t talk to him,” I said.
 

Carey nodded and made a note on his phone. I wondered if he knew how easily it would be to read his notes, if you had the right skill level.
 

“So you’ll help me out?” he asked.
 

What the hell? I was going to do it anyway.

“I will.” I got up to leave.
 

“One more thing,” said Carey. “As a nurse, what do you think Wade Cave is taking medical cannabis for?”
 

“Why do you assume it’s Wade?” I asked.

“He looks like he needs to be medicated. He was absolutely nuts at the Belgian Bean last night.”

I laughed. “Detective, I haven’t examined him and have no access to his medical records.”
 

Although I could with a simple text.
 

“Humor me,” he said. “Guess.”
 

“Unless he’s hiding a serious illness such as cancer, I’d say the obvious answer is anxiety. But it could be anyone in DBD.”
 

One of the firemen’s radios squawked an all clear and Carey went to walk me out. “Mooting was pretty torqued up the night you put that pepper spray in his face.”
 

“My impression is that he’s torqued up most of the time,” I said.
 

Carey nodded. Mooting just became a big fat suspect.
 

We walked down the hall and Carey took the door handle. “Are you a fan of DBD?”
 

“Not even a little bit,” I said with a laugh. “Why?”
 

“I was just wondering why they broke up in the first place. DBD was huge.”
 

“They were. The biggest in the world at the time. The breakup broke my dad’s heart,” I said. “If you think the breakup’s important, check it out on the internet. Google knows all.”
 

“Or not. The real reasons could be private,” he said.
 

“And you want me to find out what they were,” I said.

Carey pushed open the door. “I have every faith in you. Good night, Miss Watts.”
 

Good night indeed.
 

Kera slept on our sofa. It seemed weird to put her in with Uncle Morty and the nerd posse, although she would’ve been better fed and perfectly safe, if you don’t consider talk of
Star Wars
to be terminally boring. Kera didn’t seem to care where she went as long as she wasn’t alone, which was understandable. She figured out on her own that the fire was meant for her. I guess she just sensed it.
 

We all slept in that third morning and only awoke to the odd smell of eggs. Odd because cooking eggs have a certain smell to them and this smell was off. I rolled over and poked Pete in his ribs. I could count them all.
 

“What’s that smell?” I wanted to be ready for whatever Nancy was about to inflict upon us.
 

“I don’t know. Eggs.” Pete rolled over and took all the blankets with him.
 

I thought I may as well face it head on, so I tried to get up. My body wouldn’t cooperate. Every muscle protested and I could not sit up. It just wasn’t going to happen. I had to roll out like a pathetic out-of-shape loser which I guess I was. I took two Tylenol, put on my robe, braced myself, and opened the door. There was another oily haze in the room. The curtains would never be the same. Nancy was at the stove. She seemed to like it there. I couldn’t imagine why. She was much better at the Scrabble board.
 

I walked stiffly into the kitchen and asked, “What’s cooking?” I didn’t wince. I’m pretty proud of that. It was harder than it sounds. Remember Nancy was in a blueish-grey fog at the time.
 

Nancy smiled, despite her bloodshot eyes. “French toast.”
 

That’s when I saw the loaf of Wonder Bread on the counter. Now I had no objections to Wonder Bread. I used to beg Mom for the stuff. Our conversations went something like this. “Mom, why can’t we have peanut butter on Wonder Bread like everybody else?”
 

“That’s not real bread.”
 

“It is too. It says bread on the package.”