In the Worst Way (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book 5) (29 page)

“Okay,” said Aaron.
 

“Aren’t you intrigued?”

Nothing. I guess shots fired in the middle of the night, blood evidence, and a trail weren’t all that interesting to a guy obsessed with hotdogs.
 

“Miss Watts, come on!” yelled Phelong. “I’m all yuck.”
 

“Fine!” We walked a little ways to where the hill wasn’t so steep and trotted down to them. Both were soaked and Phelong was yuck. Mud coated him from head to toe. He had a stick in his hair and a small leaf plastered to the side of his face. I pulled out a couple of evidence bags and opened one. “Okay. I’m ready.”
 

Tiny and Phelong ducked their heads and that’s when I realized Phelong was holding his hat and he certainly wasn’t protecting anything from the rain.
 

“Tell me you didn’t let the leaves get wet,” I said.
 

A furious red blush crept up Tiny’s neck and lit up his ears. Phelong stuck out his pointy chin. “I didn’t.”
 

“Oh, really. Where are they then?”
 

“You see there was this accident,” he said.
 

“Accident? How could you have an accident? You were supposed to stand here and do nothing.”
 

He ducked his head again and stared at his formally shiny shoes that were now caked with fresh mud. Very fresh. “What did you do?”
 

Phelong reached up and peeled something off his chest. I flipped a lock of dripping hair back and leaned in. “Tell me those aren’t the leaves.”
 

“They aren’t the leaves,” he said in an unnaturally high voice. “Except they are.”
 

“You wrecked them? How? How? You were just standing here?”

Tiny raised his head. It looked painful. “It’s my fault. I should’ve stopped him. He got tired of waiting.”
 

“It took thirteen minutes!” I didn’t know my voice could get that high. Impressive, even for a girl.
 

“It’s raining and I thought I could do it,” said Phelong.
 

I raised an eyebrow.
 

“He was going to meet you halfway,” said Tiny.
 

“How far did you get?” I asked.
 

“Five feet. I slipped.”
 

“And landed on the evidence, I presume.”
 

“Little bit.”
 

Breathe, Mercy.
 

“Okay. What about that spot on the tree trunk? Where’s that?” I asked.
 

Tiny pointed to a tree with nothing on the bark. “Rain.”
 

I grabbed a fallen tree branch. “That was our blood evidence. Our only evidence that somebody got shot out here.” I hauled back the branch, aiming at Phelong’s crotch. “Stand still!”
 

Aaron grabbed the branch and wrenched it out of my hand. He tossed the branch away into the trees. “You’re hungry. Let’s go.”
 

“You always think people are hungry. This isn’t hungry. This is mad. Mad beyond measure.” I went into a stream of consciousness rant. I used every cuss word Uncle Morty ever used, including the ones that didn’t make sense.
 

When I was done, I fell over into the mud, panting.
 

“Wow,” said Tiny.
 

“Don’t get me started again,” I hissed at him.
 

“Believe me I won’t.”
 

“We still have the pictures,” said Phelong, brightening up, “and the trail. There are bullet things on the fence. How about that?”
 

“Did you find a body?” I asked.
 

“No.”
 

“Then we don’t have a crime without the blood.” I flopped back onto the wet leaves and let the rain wash over me. “Dad’s gonna kill me.”
 

Tiny squatted. “He doesn’t have to know.”
 

Phelong nodded like crazy. “I won’t tell.”
 

“Like you said, there’s no evidence, there’s no crime. We can’t fail if nothing happened.”
 

That was interesting. You can’t do the time if there was no crime. I liked it. Then the trail on the hill caught my eye and I flung my arm over my face. “No. There was a crime. You know there was.” I sat up. “Somebody out here got killed by someone in there.”
 

Tiny and Phelong just looked at me.
 

“And we have to go back in there.”
 

“Uh huh,” said Tiny.
 

“Just because we can’t prove a crime happened doesn’t mean there’s not a murderer in there among the guests. Two murderers most likely. And we have to spend the night three more times,” I said.
 

Tiny ran his big hand over his face, wiping away the rain. “I don’t think we should stay here.”
 

“No kidding. But where do you suggest we go? Costillas are looking for me. We’re stuck for three more days. I’m not even supposed to be outside the fence.”

“Who are the Costillas?” asked Phelong.
 

“We should tell your dad,” said Tiny. “I’ll do it.”
 

“No, you won’t,” I said. “He’ll just say, ‘So what? Figure it out.’”

“Who are the Costillas?” asked Phelong.

Tiny hauled me to my feet and pointed me up the hill. “But there’s been two murders.”

“I wasn’t the target.” The tree overhead showed no sign that it’d been used to get in or out, but I wasn’t sure if it would. John said no one got in, but I wasn’t sure I trusted him. “Maybe whoever killed Cherie escaped over the fence but got shot before they got out of range.”
 

“That’s complicated,” said Tiny. “Why’s she worth all that?”
 

“We’ll have to figure it out.” I climbed back up the hill, not falling once. Phelong fell three more times. I had serious concerns about his inner ear.
 

We rang the bell at the service gate to be let back in after trying our codes and John answered, “Cairngorms Castle. How can I help you?”
 

“You can let me back in,” I said into the tiny black microphone.
 

“Miss Watts. Whatever are you doing out there?” John’s voice was as flat as ever, but I still thought he was smug.

I squinted up at the camera perched on the post beside the gate. “You know what I was doing.”
 

“I assure you I don’t,” he said.
 

“You don’t seem to mind that I’m out here.”
 

“It’s your life, Miss Watts. If you choose to risk it, who am I to stop you?”
 

Tiny frowned at me and I shrugged. “My father’s friend.”
 

“Friendship only goes so far. You are technically an adult.”

“Whatever. My code isn’t working,” I said.
 

“We just changed them all.”
 

“Why? Oh, never mind. I swear I don’t care. Just let us in.”
 

“Of course.”
 

There was a click and the gate rolled back a scant two feet.
 

“Very funny,” I said. “Open it!”
 

“It is open.”
 

I wanted to flip off that camera. That’s not something I normally do, but he deserved it. Instead, I grabbed Tiny and pulled him in front of the camera. The gate opened another three feet, wide enough for Tiny to get through.
 

“I didn’t know Mr. Plaskett was with you,” said John.
 

“Yeah, right.”
 

“Come through and we’ll give you tea. Perhaps you’ll find a clue somewhere.”
 

He was just so smug. I had another stream of consciousness moment. Well, not so much a moment since it lasted all the way back to the copper pot kitchen. Tiny and Phelong gave me a wide berth. I would’ve given me a wide berth, too. But I couldn’t escape me or the weekend from hell.

I thought I could make it back to my tower without being noticed. I was quiet, but I was wrong.
 

“Mercy!” called out Sorcha. “Where have you been?”
 

I had one foot on the bottom step of my tower. For a brief moment, I considered running for it, but what was my plan? The tower was a dead end. I’d have to face Sorcha and her sisters sooner or later. I took a breath and tried to think of what to say. Nothing useful came to mind. How was I going to explain what had happened and that I was supposed to do something about it?
 

Tiny put a heavy hand on my shoulder and manually turned me. “Just say it.”
 

“Just say what?” asked Sorcha, dripping with tears. “You’ve been avoiding us, your own cousins.” Weepy’s eyes screwed shut and she wailed, “It’s like you don’t love us.”

Love? Let’s just work on like.

“I’m not avoiding you. There’s been a complication,” I said.
 

“I knew you’d come up with some excuse to Fike us.”
 

I rolled my eyes. “Look at me.”
 

Sorcha opened one red-rimmed eye and blew her nose on an embroidered hankie. She had a huge supply of them. “Ew. What have you been doing, Mercy?”

“You see, there’s…out in the garden…someone—”

She waved her hankie in my face. “Oh my god. Did you have a treatment without us? I can’t believe this. It’s Bridget’s weekend.” Her pouty lower lip trembled and then she lived up to her name with full force. Tears streamed out with amazing speed. Nobody could compete with Sorcha’s crying on speed or sheer volume. “I thought we were getting so close. We didn’t even duct tape you once,” she wailed.
 

What spa included getting soppy wet and having mud-encrusted shoes? She must not have been wearing her contacts.
 

“You think I’ve had a treatment?” I asked.
 

“Obviously.” Sorcha covered her streaming eyes with her hands.
 

“Look at me. What treatment would this be?”
 

She peeked through her fingers. “That tropical rain shower. Did you have the eucalyptus scent or the pomegranate?”
 

“Neither. Look at Aaron and Tiny. Do you think we took a tropical rain shower together?” I asked.
 

“It said it could be for couples in the brochure.”
 

“There are three of us and our clothes are wet.”
 

Sorcha sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with her fingertips. “Well, I would hope you wouldn’t do it naked with your cousin and Aaron.”
 

“We didn’t do it at all.” I straightened up and ran my fingers through my hair. “Sorcha, there’s been a murder.”
 

“Uh huh.”
 

I braced myself for the inevitable freak out. “Here. At the castle.”
 

She clapped her hands. “Like a murder mystery? Oh my god. That’ll be so much fun.” She hooked her arm through mine. “Let’s go tell Bridget. You’re a genius.”
 

What’s happening?

“Did you hear me? I said a murder and I’ve been appointed to solve it before the sheriff gets back in town. It’ll take up most of my time,” I said.
 

“That’s okay. Will there be clues?”
 

“I hope so.”
 

“How many?”
 

“How would I know?” I asked.
 

She pulled me closer. “That’s right. You have to find them and we’ll help you. It’ll be great.”
 

Tiny’s mouth hung open and Aaron chewed on a fingernail. No help was coming from those two.
 

“I don’t think you really want to help me,” I said.