Double Black Diamond (Mercy Watts Mysteries) (5 page)

“So…is he full-sized?” I asked.

Please say he’s sixty-eight. Please. Oh please.

“Heavens, no. He’s only a chick.”
 

Ah, crap! I’ll have to put this thing in my will.
 

Then, as if on cue, Li Shou, my future pet, let out a squawk. Think loud, squeaky door. He followed it up with, “Where’s Mercy?”
 

“He can talk,” I said.

“He’s very smart and chatty.”
 

Fantastic. There’s no stopping this day’s bad momentum.
 

“When do you have to leave for the airport, dear?” asked Millicent.
 

“Pretty much now. Thank goodness I’ve already packed.” I kissed her cheek and scooted to the side of the bed.
 

“Ask Chuck to take you to the airport.”
 

I snorted.
 

“Be kind to Chuck. He loves you so.” She caressed my cheek.

I pointed to the book beside her. “Are we quoting
Gone with the Wind
now?”
 

“When it applies and it’s not exactly a quote. You should read it again.”
 

“I’ve read it three times already.”
 

“Read it again for me.” Millicent closed her eyes. “Have Chuck drive you. Lester took Myrtle to church.”
 

“Did I hear my name?” Chuck asked, leaning on the door and looking just about as troublesome as a man can.
 

“Can you take Mercy to the airport?” asked Millicent, her voice fading as she drifted toward sleep.
 

“It’ll be my pleasure.”
 

“You don’t have to. I can take a cab,” I said.
 

“I won’t hear of it,” said Millicent. “Take the Jaguar. Lester hasn’t had it out in a while.”
 

Chuck rubbed his hands together. The villain. “Now I have to take you.”
 

“Good.” Millicent went to sleep.
 

I kissed her forehead and watched her sleeping face. I didn’t know what she and Myrtle had planned for the Bled Collection. I only hoped they knew what they were doing, because I sure didn’t.

Chapter Four

The Jag was a 1945 model and not the best for transporting ski equipment. My truck would’ve made more sense, but Chuck insisted on taking the Jag. I was going on twenty-four hours without sleep and didn’t have the energy to object. So we were driving to Lambert with my skis in their padded bag jutting over the front seat between our faces. Chuck had been silent the entire drive and if I’d known that was all it took to keep him quiet, I’d have put skis between us before.
 

We passed a sign saying
Airport 2 miles,
and Chuck cleared his throat. “I can just keep driving.”
 

“Huh?” I looked out the window at the clear sky. No chance of a last-minute canceled flight today. Skiing with the parents was going to happen.
 

“I said I can just keep driving,” said Chuck.
 

“What are you talking about?”
 

“You don’t have to go.”
 

“Of course I do. I’m confirmed and everything.”

“Screw Pete and his parents.”
 

I bent over and looked at Chuck from under the skis. His jaw was clenched and he didn’t give me a glance, sleazy or otherwise. “I thought you liked Pete.”
 

“I like him. Just not for you.”
 

I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes. “Oh and why is that?”

“Haven’t you noticed? You’re dating your dad,” said Chuck.
 

“What? Are you crazy?”
 

“Am I exiting or not?”

“Exit! Now!”

Chuck eased onto the exit ramp. “You know I’m right.”

“I know you’re certifiable. Pete is nothing like my dad.”
 

“Tall, skinny, extremely pale, works constantly. Sound familiar?”
 

“Pete is super nerdy. Dad is cool. Ask anyone. How about that?”
 

“Tommy Watts is the most charming fucker you’ll ever hope to meet, but he’s still a nerd, a crime nerd, but a nerd all the same.”
 

“Well…if they are alike then I’m damn well lucky. Pete is practically perfect in every way.”
 

“Yeah. He’s a real Mary Poppins.”
 

“Shut up.”
 

“Gladly.”
 

What in the world was happening? Were we fighting? I puzzled over it and discovered we were. How odd? Chuck and I never fought. He was sleazy. I insulted him. That’s how it went, but we never fought, not even when we were kids. He always let me have my way.
 

The traffic slowed to a crawl and I nearly stomped my foot in frustration. I so wanted out of that car. My phone chirped and it was Pete, my boyfriend and argument causer.
 

“Where are u?” he texted.

“Coming,” I answered.

“What lot? I’ll come to u.”

“Dropping at Departures.”
 

Silence.
 

“Hello?” I texted.
 

“What car?” he sent back.
 

That was weird. Why should Pete care?

“Jag.”

“Don’t say anything about the Bleds,” texted Pete.

“?”

My last text went unanswered.
 

“What was that all about?” asked Chuck, his voice strained.
 

“Nothing.”
 

“Didn’t sound like nothing.”

“I was texting. It sounded like typing,” I said.
 

We rounded another turn and switched into the Departures lane.
 

Chuck lifted up my skis and looked at me. “I can blow by. You know you don’t want to go.”
 

“I don’t, but I said I would and I’m going. Stop being weird.”

“You like me weird.”
 

“I don’t like you at all,” I said.
 

“Now that’s not even close to true.” The sleaze was back and so strong I could practically smell it.
 

“Why don’t you go back to The Girls’ and pour your snake oil all over Philippa?”
 

“Philippa?” he asked.

“She’s my one friend you haven’t dated and she thinks you’re hot.”
 

“Really? I guess she could occupy my time while I wait.”
 

“Wait for what?”
 

“You.”

Ah crap. Poor Philippa. I’m such a jerk.

“Never mind. Leave Philippa alone. Forget I said it.”
 

“Too late. Philippa it is. You go to Colorado and be hated by the latest mother and I will woo your friend’s panties off.”
 

I put my head in my hands. “Please don’t hurt her. She’s a good friend.”
 

“When have I ever hurt your friends? All satisfied customers to my knowledge,” he said.
 

That was true. Chuck dated and dumped my friends and they still liked him. I didn’t know how he did it. I went out with a guy one time. It wasn’t good and I declined a second date. The guy still hates me. He threw eggs at my windows. And that wasn’t an isolated incident for me.
 

We made the last turn, and I scanned the sidewalk. Pete and his parents were easy to spot. They were both on the tall side, although not as tall as Pete. They were pale and thin in an aristocratic way with tailored wool coats and knotted scarves. They were pretty much what I expected, but it wasn’t them that I was really looking for. I was looking for a short, dumpy guy in Star Wars paraphernalia, eating something. My so-called partner, Aaron, had shown up at the airport on my last vacation and had gone on my girl trip. I wouldn’t put it past him to trail me to Colorado. My dad assigned Aaron to help me on cases and the little guy took the arrangement to the extreme. Wherever I went, he went, so it was a relief not to find him chewing next to Pete’s parents. As Chuck pulled up, I scanned again. No Aaron. Finally something was going right.
 

Pete saw the Jag and went super pale. I don’t know why he was surprised. He’d seen it before. Then his parents saw the Jag and their eyebrows raised. I admit coming to the airport in the classic car was unusual, but what was with Pete’s reaction to me arriving in it. Why should anyone care?

Chuck pulled in front of them. The parents’ expressions changed to shock as I looked out the window at them and nobody moved.
 

“Last chance,” said Chuck.
 

I groaned and opened my door. Pete sprung into action and helped me out. He bent down, his dark blond hair brushing my forehead. “I’ll explain later.”
 

I nodded and bit my lip. I was an accomplished liar. You had to be if you worked for my dad. But lying about Myrtle and Millicent felt wrong, like I was ashamed of them or something, which I certainly wasn’t.
 

“Mom, Dad, this is Mercy,” said Pete.
 

Pete’s dad recovered from his surprise and extended his hand. “Calvin. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mercy. Pete can’t stop talking about you.” He turned to his wife. “This is Pete’s mother, Nancy.”
 

Nancy blinked and then came alive and shook my hand. “Nice to meet you, Mercy. I hope you like skiing.”
 

“I love it. Thank you for inviting me.”

“And this,” said Nancy, “is Wallace.”
 

She tugged on something in her right hand and from behind her carry-on waddled a dog, not just any dog, a tiny pug wearing a pink knitted hoodie.
 

“Oh,” I said because I couldn’t say crap. Little dogs don’t like me any more than mothers. They always bark at me and try to pee on my shoes. They’re often successful because their owners frown on kicking. This dog would be no exception. He sat on his curly tail and looked up. Once he got to the level of my face, the barking started. Short yaps that caused him to hop sideways like his feet were on springs.
 

Then I heard a deep laugh behind me. Chuck was out of the Jag and I did a tiny internal panic. I never knew what Chuck would say and I had the sneaking suspicion that he wouldn’t mind making this trip worse than it was already bound to be.
 

I spun around and said loudly, “This is my cousin. My cousin. My cousin, Chuck.”
 

Smooth.

I had my back turned to Pete and his parents, so I gave Chuck what I hoped was a telling look. He saw something in my face because the corners of his mouth turned up. He walked around the car, oozing charm and promptly had Nancy glowing with a big smile on her face.
 

Calvin was equally taken in. “Chuck,” he said. “I have to ask about this car. It is magnificent.”
 

Chuck glanced at me, and Pete blurted out, “He borrowed it.”

Not missing a beat, Chuck confirmed, “It’s a friend’s. 1945 Mark IV, mint condition, and a pleasure to drive.”

Calvin looked in the back window. “That must be quite a friend.”
 

“She is.” Chuck reached in and pulled my skis over the seat. He put them in my arms and mouthed, “You owe me.”
 

Better and better.
 

Wallace the pug was still barking at me and straining on his leash toward my feet. I jumped sideways and he turned and pointed his rump at me, ready to release a stream of pee at my boot no doubt, but Nancy scooped him up. “She wants to get to know you better.”
 

Bark. Bark.

“Wallace is a girl?”
 

Bark. Bark.

“And the best girl ever,” said Nancy, holding the pug out to me. I had no choice. I had to take the thing. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Chuck at the trunk, pulling out my suitcase, his face twisted with amusement. I was about to tell him off, right in front of Calvin and Nancy, but Wallace saved me. She peed. The yellow stream hit me right in my coat before I jerked her sideways and she hit the Jag’s front tire.
 

“Oh you bad, bad girl,” said Nancy as she took Wallace from me. “She’s just excited. We’ll have that cleaned for you.”
 

“It’s okay.”
 

Hopefully, it’s okay to kill your dog later, too.
 

Pete gave me a handkerchief and I wiped the remains of dog urine off my coat while gritting my teeth. Chuck placed the last of my luggage on a porter’s cart, said his goodbyes to Pete and his parents, and then hugged me. “Bet you wish we’d kept driving now.”
 

“Hardly. It’s fine,” I whispered back.
 

Chuck’s hand brushed my rump when Pete wasn’t looking and left. Despite the sleazy behavior, I wanted to chase the car. Calvin and Nancy were looking me over, and Wallace was barking and snorting at me. Worst of all, Pete looked distinctly uncomfortable.
 

“So who owns the Jag?” asked Calvin.
 

“Um,” I said because I have a way with words.
 

“Dad, we better get going,” said Pete. “Got to check in. We don’t want to be late.”
 

“Oh, right. Anything can happen with air travel. Best to be early. Don’t you agree, Mercy?”
 

“Sure.”
 

Nancy fell in step with me and started asking where I’d skied before. I guess Pete hadn’t anticipated these questions because he kept glancing over his shoulder with panicked eyes. So I lied. I said my parents had taken me skiing instead of The Girls. It seemed so ungrateful. Myrtle and Millicent had taught me to ski at three and had taken me everywhere from Whistler in Canada to Chamonix in France. But still I lied and put my parents in their place with a silent vow to confess all when I got home. Well, maybe not all. I wouldn’t mention Keegan’s oil. I doubted The Girls would object to my smuggling medicine to a dying child. The Bleds were known to do what they thought was right, not necessarily what was legal. But they didn’t keep secrets from my parents whose reaction was less certain. There would be yelling at the very least.