Double Black Diamond (Mercy Watts Mysteries) (28 page)

Uncle Morty blew a breath out like a horse. “Can I do it? That’s an insult. What else you got?”

“Something happened ten years ago. Mr. Dushane wouldn’t tell me what it was, but that’s when Mickey began treatment with him.”
 

“Don’t you listen to Tommy at all? Mickey’s brother killed himself. He played keyboards.”
 

“Oh yeah, but I thought that was an overdose.” I blinked the snowflakes on my lashes away.
 

Uncle Morty snorted. “It was an overdose alright.”
 

“You think someone murdered him?”

“Cops ruled it out, but you tell me, this guy had been an addict for twenty years, heroin, cocaine, amphetamines, he did it all, so you think he doesn’t know how to walk the line?”

“Accidents happen. Addicts want a bigger high. They push it farther and farther,” I said.

“The way I remember it was Cliff shot enough to kill an elephant with the heroin alone. He also had meth and coke in his system. Plus a load of vodka.”
 

“Can you get the autopsy report?”
 

“I can, but I’m telling you Cliff killed himself. Mickey probably started using Dushane’s juice to deal with it,” said Uncle Morty.

“It has been shown to work on depression and sleep disorders. Why did the band break up in the first place?” I asked.
 

“Creative differences was the official reason.”
 

“And the unofficial reason?”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t that into them. I didn’t pay attention, but I’ll find out.”
 

I reached for Copper One’s door handle, but it swung open and Fergus came out.

“Where have you been?” I asked. “Aaron said he alerted you to my movements.”
 

Fergus’s freckled face turned hot pink as Kera came out of the door. “Hi. I thought you were at the Belgian Bean.”
 

I raised an eyebrow at Fergus. Could it be that my stalker had found a new interest?
 

“I was, but Aaron’s still there. You two should have breakfast together,” I said.

Like a date.

“I can’t. I have to help you,” said Fergus, blushing more than ever.
 

“Don’t worry, boy,” said Uncle Morty. “I got her. Go have some fun. You deserve it.”
 

Kera dragged Fergus off to the Belgian Bean and I gave Uncle Morty the stink eye. “Did you just hook Fergus up?”

“He’s a good kid.”
 

“But you don’t help people. You’re probably figuring out what to charge me at this very moment.”
 

“You want me to charge you, I’ll charge you.” Uncle Morty stomped inside, but I hesitated. What was happening? Uncle Morty was being… nice. At least nice for him and it kind of sounded like he wasn’t going to tell my dad what I was up to and I hadn’t even threatened him with the peach schnapps. I yanked open the door and chased him through to the elevator.
 

“What’s with you?” he growled at me.
 

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

“Same old me. So while I’m doing all this research, what’re you gonna be doing? Playing ski bunny?”
 

“Well, I was going to figure out where Darren is staying and see if I can get a look at his snowboard,” I said.
 

He nodded. “That’s not totally worthless. He’s staying right here in the third penthouse. Why don’t you sashay up there and wiggle your fanny until you get some information out of him.”

“I don’t sashay or wiggle my fanny, but I will go up there and be a normal person,” I said as haughtily as possible.
 

“Good luck with that.”
 

I rode up with Uncle Morty and we caught Rodney trucking down the hall without his crutches and carrying an ice bucket.

“What are you doing?” I asked, taking the bucket.

“Pete said I should keep my knee cold,” said Rodney. “Besides it’s better. I think I’ll hit the slopes.”
 

“I think you won’t.” I gave the bucket to Uncle Morty. “Put him in the easy chair and use the peas I bought.”
 

“Where are you going?” asked Rodney.
 

“I’m going to talk to Darren Echols about a snowboard.” I pointed at his bird-like chest. “You, go lay down.”
 

“She’s bossy.”
 

Uncle Morty hooked Rod’s arm over his shoulder. “Pain in my ass.”
 

“Me?”
 

“Her. Always getting involved in shit.”
 

I stomped down the hall and yelled over my shoulder, “No one asked you to help.”
 

“The hell with that.”
 

I did a good hair fluff and knocked on Darren’s door, not sure what I’d say but I figured something would come to me.
 

The door creaked open and a bleary eye blinked at me. “Who is it?”
 

“Mercy Watts, can I see Mr. Echols?”

“Oh, it’s you.” The door swung wide and there was Bobby, Nina’s skiing-phobic bodyguard.
 

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” I said. “Aren’t you Nina’s bodyguard?”

Bobby’s shoulders drooped. “I was.”
 

“Have you been demoted?”

“Little bit.”

I patted his bicep. It was, no kidding, the size of my waist and rock hard. “That’s just not right. You had the flu. It’s not your fault what happened to Nina.”
 

Bobby inhaled and straightened up. “Mickey likes you. Do you think you could maybe talk to him for me? I’d die before I let anything happen to Nina. If I’d known, I would’ve gone down that hill, even if it killed me.”

“You couldn’t have done anything. I was right there and it just happened,” I said. “Is Darren here?”
 

He lowered his voice. “He is, but he’s sleeping. You don’t want to wake him up. He’s small but mean.”
 

“He sleeps in late, huh?”
 

“Not usually. He likes to hit the slopes early, but he was up late,” said Bobby.

Setting fires perhaps?

I leaned on the door frame, nice and casual. “Doing what?”

“Darren and the guys were jamming out. They were playing stuff that was so old, my grandma had the album.”
 

“I didn’t see you when they evacuated the building last night. You heard there was a fire, right?” I asked.
 

“Oh, yeah. We didn’t get back until it was all over.”
 

“What time was that?”
 

Bobby yawned so wide I could see the fillings in his molars. “About three.”
 

“Where were you?”

“Mickey rented a house. We were all there. Those guys are old as hell, but they can still party. They wore me out.”
 

“Who was there?”

Bobby gave me a semi-hard look. “Why?”

“Because the police think that Nina’s accident wasn’t an accident at all. That snowboarder was stabbed and now there was that fire.” I pointed to Rory’s taped-off doorway across the hall. “Pretty close for comfort.”

“What’s that got to do with DBD? We didn’t know that kid,” said Bobby.
 

I shook my head. “The police are nosing around. My loyalty is to Mickey and Nina.”
 

Bobby thought about it for a second. “Mine, too. Darren’s okay, but I’d rather be with them.”
 

“So Darren was definitely at Mickey’s last night, all night?”

“Yep. He never left.”
 

“What about yesterday when Nina got hit? Where was he then?” I asked.
 

He blushed. “I was with the ski patrol, breathing in a bag. I thought I was going to pass out on the lift. It was terrible.”
 

“Which bodyguard was with Darren then?”
 

“Probably nobody. Who can keep up? He’s a maniac,” said Bobby.
 

I rubbed my forehead. So Darren could’ve hit Nina, but he didn’t set the fire. Not personally anyway. He could’ve hired it out though. But why? Why would he or anyone want to hurt Kera?

“Do you know where Darren keeps his boards?” I asked.
 

“In the locker.”
 

“Have you seen them? What do they look like?”

“Hell, I don’t know. Whenever they take me down to the lockers I get so nauseous I can barely stand up.”

I put my hand, which has never looked so small and delicate in my life, on Bobby’s enormous arm. “I need to get in Darren’s locker. Can you give me the key?”
 

“Oh, I can’t do that. Darren’d kill me or worse fire me. I need this job. I can’t do anything else,” said Bobby.

“Don’t worry about your job.” I fished out Dad’s card, always useful in such situations.

He squinted at the card. “I thought you were a nurse.”
 

“I am, but I have other interests and right now I’m interested in who tried to kill Nina. I need to clear Darren. Please give me the key. No one will ever know and I will make you look so good to Mickey, you’ll be back with him in a heartbeat.”
 

Bobby took a deep breath and looked over his shoulder. “You have to bring it back right away before he wakes up.”
 

“No—” I stopped and listened. “Do you hear that?”
 

“I think your purse is barfing.”
 

Sure enough. Wallace shuddered and began horking up waffles in my beautiful new purse. “Oh, crap. Wallace, why? You didn’t throw up Nancy’s taco sauce and that was truly heinous.”
 

I pulled a heaving Wallace out of my bag and Bobby got me a dish towel. It was too late. What came out of that dog resembled a waffle in no way.
 

“What did you feed your dog?” asked Bobby.

“Gourmet waffles. Can I please have the key before she explodes?”
 

Bobby handed it over and I crossed my heart that no one would know.
 

There was a tap on my shoulder and I froze. Bobby’s eyes went wide and he started stammering.
 

“What’s wrong with Wallace?” asked Aaron behind me.
 

My shoulders relaxed and the stink dog took that moment to step off the dish towel and barf on my only remaining clean boot. I squatted and pushed her back on the towel. Wallace looked at me with weepy dark eyes and I would’ve felt guilty if she hadn’t peed on me so much. “Forget it, sister. You deserve it.”
 

Hork.

“Who’s this?” asked Bobby in a small voice that so did not fit him.

“Aaron,” I said. “My partner. Don’t worry. He’s cool.”
 

I pushed Bobby back and closed the door.
 

“What happened to Wallace?” asked Aaron again.
 

I wrapped the yuck up in the towel and considered my options. Aaron had made the waffles. He seemed like a real blockhead, but I wasn’t sure how he’d take a dog throwing up one of his masterpieces. Artists can be sensitive that way.
 

“Nothing.” I trotted down the hall to Uncle Morty’s condo and kneed the door since I was holding a quivering Wallace.
 

Uncle Morty opened the door. “What’d— ”

I pushed past him and ran into the half bath as Wallace started heaving again.
 

“Don’t bring that damn dog in here!” he yelled.
 

“Too late.” I put Wallace over the toilet and she went at it. I only gave her one waffle and somehow she’d turned it into five or six.
 

“Take her outside.”

“Quiet. We’re barfing here.”
 

Wallace stopped and I set her on the bathroom rug. She quivered and fell over. Okay. I did feel sorry for her, but I didn’t show it. Dogs can smell weakness and I wanted to go home with something that was pee-free.

Uncle Morty stomped in and looked in the toilet. “What the hell did you feed this dog?”
 

Aaron was watching from the door.
 

Say something reasonable.

“Nothing.”
 

Come on, Mercy. Get it together.

“I think she sneaked some food,” I said.
 

That’ll do.

“Smells like waffles,” said Uncle Morty.

Or not.

“Did you feed Wallace my waffles?” asked Aaron.

I winced. “Um…I may have fed her something that…resembled waffles that were made by you.”

Aaron stared at me and I never before realized how much he looked like a serial killer mugshot, expressionless with a good dose of nuts. Aaron walked in and picked up the shivering Wallace and walked out with her.
 

“What’s he going to do?” I asked.
 

“He probably won’t eat her. Doesn’t like dog meat,” said Uncle Morty.
 

“Oh, my god. That’s Nancy’s dog. She loves her, despite the fact that she shouldn’t.” I squeezed past Morty’s bulk, but he grabbed me and pushed me toward the door.
 

“I’m not leaving her here,” I said.
 

“Yeah you are. You been gone a long time. Those parents are gonna wonder where you’ve been.”
 

“But— ”

He pushed me out the door. “Go to work. We ain’t got all day.”
 

I stood in the hall, holding Wallace’s goo-filled dish towel and wondering where it had all gone awry. This was supposed to be a vacation. I was supposed to have all day. The elevator dinged and I went down the hall to catch it. Since my day was already going badly, I found Detective Carey and a new patrolman coming out.
 

“Miss Watts, I was going to…what is that?” Detective Carey pointed at the towel.

“Dog barf.”
 

“Are you serious?”
 

“Want it?” I held the smelly thing aloft.
 

“We can talk later.” He and the patrolman gave me plenty of room and I stepped on the elevator.
 

“Where are you going?” I asked.