In the Worst Way (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book 5) (32 page)

“No kidding.”
 

Gerry became less abashed and actually got up the nerve to smile tentatively at me. “I did everything I was supposed to before the bad rain hit.”
 

“Is that it?” I pointed to a plastic bin filled with evidence bags and Dr. Watts’ camera.
 

“Yeah and guess what?”
 

“I give up.”
 

“I found her phone,” he said.

“Cherie’s phone?”
 

“Uh huh and it wasn’t broken or anything.”
 

I went through the bags and found Cherie’s phone bagged up nicely with a cracked screen. “I thought you said it wasn’t broken?”
 

“It still works.”
 

“Good job, Gerry. Where’d you find it?”
 

“Under a stone bench next to the rock garden.”
 

I’d seen that bench. It was directly between the site of the first scene where she got her head bashed and the second where the strangling took place. I took the camera and scrolled through the pictures. Gerry’d done a good job documenting every inch of the place. Even my dad would’ve been pleased. There was hope for him yet.
 

The bench pictures showed the phone next to the left leg of the bench, partially concealed by the leg and some irises that were beginning to sprout. There was a smear of blood on the back of the bench. The phone wasn’t really hidden. It looked to me like Cherie dropped it on her way to the second scene. Did she rest with her hand on the bench and drop the phone or did she hit the bench while being chased? I couldn’t tell, but both ways made me feel unbelievably sad for her. No one helped her. Somebody should’ve helped her. She must’ve cried out. Pick heard her. Why not anyone else? Why not me?

“Miss Watts?” asked Gerry. “Did I do good?”
 

“Very well indeed. I was just thinking. Are you two ready to take off?”
 

“Where would we go?” asked Phelong. “I’m never gonna live that leaf thing down and Dr. Watts is going to kill me a lot.”
 

“She’ll only kill you a little, I promise. Besides, I need a ride,” I said.
 

They perked up. “To where?” asked Phelong. I suspect he was hoping I’d say to a burger joint or a bar. “To the funeral home. Dr. Watts wants me to look at something.”
 

Their shoulders slumped. “Do we have to go?” asked Gerry.
 

“You want me to drive your squad car?” I asked.
 

They thought it over when Leslie came out of the office. We were to his left and he didn’t see us at first. Before I could call out to him, his stride faltered and he swept something away from his face like there was a spiderweb hanging in midair and then he continued walking.

“Leslie,” I said and a micro-expression flitted across his features when he realized he’d been seen acting odd. The expression vanished and I saw no point in asking the obvious question. He wouldn’t acknowledge anything.
 

“You’re trying to leave the grounds again?” he asked.
 

“It’s necessary. Dr. Watts wants me over at Flincher’s.”
 

Leslie ran his fingers through his silver hair and it fell back into place perfectly. “You must see…the body then?”
 

I caught the hesitation and he saw me catching it. We stood there, eyeing each other and waiting for someone to say something. Tiny did the deed. “Are we going or not?”

“You are,” said Leslie. “But Mercy will lay down in the back of the squad car and the car will be driven into Flincher’s garage so no one will see her.”

“You’re letting me go?” I asked.
 

“How would I win the bet otherwise? The last thing Phelong and Gerry want to do is go to Flincher’s. I’m counting your money already.”

That was easy. Hm.

“You’re not going to win, but I will try to be inconspicuous.”
 

“Good.” He retrieved an enormous golfing umbrella from the office and gave it to Tiny. “You’re to protect her at all costs. Life and limb.”
 

“That’s a bit overly dramatic,” I said.
 

“No, it ain’t,” said Tiny. “It’s my job.”
 

“You’ve got it?” asked Leslie.
 

Tiny patted his waistband where there was the distinct outline of a gun. It did make me feel better although I’d rather have had it in my waistband.
 

“We’re all set then.” I went to leave and Leslie caught up to me.
 

“How far have you gotten with this?” he asked me. “Remember, we expect results.”
 

“You’ll get results. Can I go now?”
 

“What’ve you got so far?”
 

I gave him a brief rundown, but it was too long. The Troublesome Trio came through the archway into reception, all smiles and dressed like they were going to a garden party, hats and all.
 

“Finally!” exclaimed Bridget. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere. Is your phone not working?”
 

Oh, it was working alright and I was working at ignoring it.
 

“Sorry,” I said. “I turned it off when I took a shower. Where are you going?”

“Wherever you’re going?” said Jilly. “I’m totally ready for this.”

Leslie straightened his vest. “You’ve missed your hot yoga class, ladies. What are you ready for?”
 

“To investigate,” said Sorcha. “It’s going to be awesome. Now we didn’t tell our parents about the extra activities this weekend. We’re going to surprise them when we solve it.”
 

“
You’re
going to solve it?”

Bridget put her hands on her hips. “We are Watts, you know? We can detect things.”
 

“Of course,” said Leslie. “I was only surprised that you wanted to interrupt your bridal weekend.”
 

“Well, this is part of it after all.”
 

“Part of it? The murder is part of your weekend?”
 

“Of course,” said Sorcha. “Mercy told me everything and we’re ready to go. What do you think of my hat? Is it too much?”
 

I had no words. None. Sorcha’s hat was huge, a hat you’d see at a royal wedding.
 

“Your hat’s nice,” said Tiny after we all just stood there and looked at the hat.
 

“Good. Where are you going?”
 

There was nothing for it, but to tell her and hope she wouldn’t want to go. “To the funeral home to view the body,” I said.
 

“Oh my god. Really?” asked Jilly. “That is so detailed. I want to go.”
 

What the hell?

“Unfortunately, ladies, Mercy has other plans for you,” said Leslie.
 

My mouth fell open and I had to think about shutting it. “I do? Oh yeah yeah. I do.”
 

Plans. Plans. What plans? Oh my god. Think of something, you idiot. They can’t see the body. Mom will kill you.
 

“Interviews!”
 

My cousins jerked back. That came out louder than I expected. Then Sorcha rubbed her hands together. “Ooh, we get to interview the suspects. Yes!”
 

Yeah. Interview away. I have no suspects. I don’t even have a motive.

“Actually, I’m hoping you will find me a suspect. I’m fresh out,” I said.
 

“Really?” asked Jilly. “This is like your thing.”
 

“Well, you know, I’m not quite at my best. Stress or something. Can you three interview the staff?”
 

“Absolutely,” said Bridget. “We’ll do it.”
 

“What do we ask?” Sorcha picked some lint off her sleeve and then admired the crease.
 

I gave them a few things to ask. It was pretty simple and it would keep them out of my way. Best of all, it had to be done.
 

“Do you have a list of staff for them?” I asked Leslie.
 

“I do. Right this way.” He led my cousins into the office. There was much flipping of hair and dimple popping. Leslie had
it
in spades. John did not. He came into the shadows of the far door and watched me leave. Something about him made me never want to return.

Chapter Sixteen

FLINCHER FUNERALS AND Crematoria sat on the edge of Lesterville, a quaint little town of less than 1000 people. The former mining town was now dedicated to tourism with plenty of canoeing and camping in the summer. Now, in the spring, it was dead quiet and even quieter where Flincher Funerals sat. As if the rest of the buildings sensed something amiss, they were built far away. There was plenty of good Main St. property available, but nobody was getting close to Flincher. And I could see why. The building wasn’t at all what I expected in a funeral home. There were no columns evoking the South or some bygone era. There were no flower beds or well-manicured anything. Flincher Funerals was in an industrial building with corrugated metal siding. The lime green paint had peeled off in spots and rust ringed the main door. It looked more like a place that people got killed in than a place for sending off loved ones.
 

“That is the worst funeral home in the world,” I said.
 

“Mercy!” Tiny grabbed my arm and tried to force me to hide for about the thousandth time. I didn’t want to hide and he couldn’t make me. I kept popping up. Sometimes it wasn’t even of my own accord. It just happened. Instinct, I guess. I had to see where I was going.
 

“Give it up. We’re here.”

“What’s Tommy going to say?”
 

“Nothing if you don’t tell him.”
 

He groaned. “If you get shot because I couldn’t do my job, I’ll never recover. I’ll have to throw my damn self off a bridge.”
 

I rolled my eyes and plopped over. “Fine, but only so you don’t jump off a bridge.”
 

“I should’ve said that earlier.”
 

“You should’ve.”
 

Phelong told Gerry to turn right in a low, tense voice. I could see their heads over the back of the seat and little beads of sweat were forming at their hairlines. I felt bad for making them go into the bowels of Flincher Funerals. I thought about saying that I should be the one who was worried since someone tried to murder me in a funeral home once, but it probably wouldn’t be helpful.
 

To distract them from the sense of impending doom, I said, “So how does he stay in business? Who would want a funeral here?”
 

Phelong glanced back at me. He was all flushed and jittery. “Flincher’s cheap, fast, and he doesn’t ask any questions.”
 

That has a bad ring to it.

“Like what kind of questions?”
 

“Last year, Callie Bacon’s husband fell into their cistern and died,” said Gerry.
 

“So?”
 

Phelong shifted in his seat as Gerry parked, took a deep breath, and got out.
 

“It happened two days after he smacked the crap out of their six-year-old in the Quik Mart,”said Phelong.
 

“Stuff happens. It don’t mean anything,” said Tiny.
 

“Sheriff Greer was having his annual family camping trip down at Taum Sauk. Harry fell down the cistern early in the morning and Callie had the funeral and cremation before five o’clock. They never even called us.”

“That’s crazy fast,” I said.
 

“She killed him,” said Tiny.
 

“Yeah, she did and Flincher just burnt up the evidence. No problem.”
 

“So everybody knows about Callie and Harry?” I asked.
 

“And everybody knows about Flincher. Callie sold Harry’s truck for 5000 dollars at noon. We all know who got that money.”
 

“Callie sounds like a woman who gets things done.”
 

“She was reading that Stephen King book,
Dolores Claiborne
, at the time. Her sister told me,” said Phelong.
 

“What did the sheriff say when he got back?” asked Tiny.
 

Phelong shrugged. “It was a done deal and everybody hated Harry anyway.”
 

A grinding noise erupted in front of the squad car and Gerry got back in. “Somebody owes me something.”
 

“What happened?” asked Phelong.
 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Gerry pulled the car into a darkened garage and left it idling.

“Ya think he’s gonna turn on the lights?” asked Tiny.