In the Worst Way (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book 5) (44 page)

Carl and Shaun had an easier time of it. Nobody blamed them and I gathered it was because they had prominent families. Carl was the son of the town dentist and Shaun’s father was a retired Army colonel. Cherie’s family was deemed white trash. The Herald didn’t come out and say it, but it wasn’t hard to figure out how people saw her.
 

I ran background checks on Carl and Shaun and their good fortune ended with graduation. Carl died after he fell out of his dorm window during his sophomore year in college. His blood alcohol was twice the legal limit. Shaun was a star pitcher with a full ride to Mizzou. He did go to Mizzou but blew out his knee his junior year and left school. He joined the army, served one enlistment, and disappeared. And I mean disappeared. Shaun went backpacking alone in Estes Park, Colorado and was never seen again. He was declared dead seven years later. Cherie was the sole survivor and somebody had a bone to pick.
 

I pulled up the pictures of the four kids that were on that bridge in March 1987. Their senior pictures showed nothing of the terrible fates that were coming. Their smiles made me hurt all over. Shaun, in particular, was so much like David, not in looks, but in hope and promise. The world lay before them, but they’d never get to see it.
 

Pick jumped to his feet and barked. I looked up to find Tiny weaving through the parked cars.

Before he could open his mouth, I said, “You ate cream.”
 

“No, I didn’t,” he said.
 

“You have a milk mustache.”
 

“It’s skim.”
 

I closed the laptop. “You are a terrible liar. We have to work on that.”
 

“What’re you doing?”
 

“Finding a motive.” I pointed to Nicole’s back window.

“So?”
 

I told him what I’d found out. “Quinn Hasselback is the Q on the back of the Vipers van.”
 

“No shit?”
 

“Has to be and it says here that the family tried to get Cherie charged, but the police refused. She was the one who bought the vodka. They blamed her for giving it to Quinn.”
 

“Ya think Nicole’d kill her now. That was a long time ago and he drank it.”
 

“I think you don’t put a memorial on your brand new vehicle over two decades later because you’re over it.”
 

“Nicole was in The Castle when it happened,” he said.
 

“Someone used my code to get out, but her hands are too small,” I said.
 

“She could’ve pushed her so she hit that rock.”
 

I shrugged. Her and everyone else in the castle.

“What else ya got?”
 

I told him about the trip being comped. “Leslie said the teams didn’t know who would be here, but I heard Cherie at the gas station. She knew somebody was going to be here. She was surprised by the Vipers.”
 

“But not by the Grizzlies.”
 

“She knew about them and she picked this week specifically.”
 

“Maybe a chance for her kid to psych out their kid.”
 

“I don’t think so. Taylor likes Enrique. There’s something else going on. She went to Ecuador but so what? It was a church mission,” I said.

“When did they go?”
 

“January. I wonder when the Lions signed up for this week.”

“Ask Leslie,” said Tiny. “God I’m hungry.”
 

“You just drank cream.”
 

His face went blank à la John. “I didn’t say nothing about no cream.”
 

“Yeah, right. You drank skim,” I said.
 

“Skim’s the bomb.”
 

“Sure it is. Everybody loves skim. My dad calls it white water.” I shook Sorcha’s shoulder. She’d flipped over and was snoozing face-down like my cat, Skanky. I don’t know how either of them could breathe like that.

Sorcha snorted and looked up. “I wasn’t sleeping.”
 

“I know. Just like how Tiny didn’t drink cream.”
 

“What?”
 

“Nothing. Come on. We’ve got stuff to do.”
 

Sorcha jumped to her feet and frantically began finger combing her perfect locks. Oliver walked up from the direction of the fields, smiling and looking rugged in the best way possible. He gave Sorcha a light kiss on the lips and she blushed to match her hair.
 

“I thought you might like to have lunch together today?” he asked her.
 

“Okay. What time?”
 

“Noon.”
 

“Sorcha might be busy,” I said. “We’ve got a murder to solve.”
 

She wrinkled her nose and said, “Please. That can wait.”
 

What the…

“It really can’t. We have a deadline.”
 

“Oh, that. I was thinking of extending our trip by a couple of days.” Sorcha looked deep into Oliver’s eyes.

“That would be great,” he said.
 

“Great. Fantastic,” I said. “But that won’t help with our deadline.”
 

“Uh huh,” said Sorcha.
 

I groaned. “Come on, Tiny. Let’s go look at the map.”
 

Tiny didn’t move. He stood frozen with the funniest look on his face.
 

“Tiny?”
 

“I think I’m going to…” He ran around the tree and barfed like I’ve never heard barfing before. It was like tyrannosaurus rex barfing, huge and tremendously loud. He tried to hide behind the trunk but missed the mark and I could see the steady stream of white spewing from his mouth. Gross and double gross.
 

I made a face and then put on my big nurse pants. It was my job to go around that tree, but I so didn’t want to. “Tiny?” I rubbed his back as he gagged.
 

“When you, uh, finish. I want you to lie down for a while,” I said.
 

“Got to watch you.” Another spew.
 

“John’ll watch me and I have Pick. Your body can’t take a fat influx anymore. You’re going to feel rotten for a while.”
 

He waved me away. “Go. Got to barf.”
 

“Er…okay. I’m going to the copper pot kitchen.”
 

He waved frantically and a bunch more came out. I told Sorcha and Oliver that Tiny would catch up to us later. They nodded and would’ve agreed to anything. I rolled my eyes and headed for the kitchen with Pick, who liked the smell of vomit even less than I did.
 

When we came to the love garden, Uncle Morty walked out the door of the kitchen, squinting and shielding his eyes. He reminded me of a bear coming out of hibernation.
 

“You’re out,” I said. “Did someone set fire to your room?”
 

“Smart ass.”
 

“You know it.”
 

“I got the answer on your damn newspaper.”
 

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You could’ve called me.”
 

“Yeah, well, my ass hurts. I think I got a boil.” Uncle Morty turned and tugged on his sweatpants.

Oh my god no!

“What are you doing? What are you doing?”
 

“You want to see it, right?” he asked.
 

“Wrong. So so wrong. Why would I want to see your rear?” I asked.
 

He growled at me. “You’re a nurse, ain’t you? I went to your graduation.”
 

“I’m not your nurse.”
 

“You are today. Look at this bastard.” He turned and tugged again.
 

I should’ve gone to law school. Nobody asks a lawyer to look at their butt boils. Sorcha was the smart one. I was an idiot.
 

Oliver and Sorcha, two people who chose their careers wisely, dashed around Uncle Morty and went in the kitchen. Uncle Morty glared after them. “Squeamish bastards.” With that he exposed one of the largest hairiest rears I ever had the misfortune to see.
 

I shuddered. “That’s not a boil.”
 

“What the hell do you mean?”
 

“That’s a bedsore.”
 

“I ain’t hardly been in bed.”
 

“You’ve been in a chair for forty years. Paraplegics sit less than you.”
 

He glared at me over his shoulder. “Fix it.”
 

“Or you’ll be what? Super crabby?” I asked. “I fail to see the difference.”
 

“Fix it.”
 

“With what? All I’ve got is a poodle and, by the way, pull up your pants. You’re scaring the birds and wilting the flowers.”
 

“Bite me.”
 

“No thanks.”

“Fix it or I won’t give you shit on that newspaper.”
 

I crossed my arms. “I don’t need it. I already put it together.”
 

“The hell you did.”
 

I put my nose in the air and went past him into the kitchen which was filled with an incredible stench so thick I swear I could see it.
 

Aaron looked up from stuffing his casings. “You hungry.”
 

“I may never be hungry again.” I rushed through the kitchen and into the hall, bumping into Leslie and John huddled together in the hall. Leslie frowned as John explained something. I caught the name Flincher and my name before they saw me. I raised an eyebrow. “Making new arrangements?”
 

“Arrangements?” Leslie smiled. “What would we be arranging?”
 

“Another convenient vanishing perhaps.”
 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but…” Leslie came closer, “perhaps you should remember who you are and why you’re here.”
 

That stopped me and I took a step back. “Me? What’s it got to do with me?”
 

John said to Leslie, “Didn’t Tommy say she was bright?”
 

“He did and she is,” said Leslie. “She’s just not thinking.”
 

Pick growled and strained at his leash. I pulled him back to my side. “I’m thinking about the task
you
asked me to perform.”

Leslie straightened his vest and ran a hand through his long grey hair. “And how’s that coming?”
 

“It’d be better if you’d be more forthcoming,” I said, walking past them to see if they’d follow. They did. I had no clue where I was going, but they followed me anyway.
 

I took a right and ended up in a billiards room all dark wood and covered in animal heads. Pick began sniffing at a stuffed grizzly bear and I picked up a pool cue, twirling it between my fingers. “I want to know how Cherie came to be here this particular weekend.”
 

“Not who was in the woods?” asked John.
 

“If that has to do with me, I’ll find out eventually. When did Cherie request this weekend?”

Leslie walked off while waving something away from his ear that I couldn’t see. John watched him for a split second and then said, “Why?”
 

“Can’t you just answer the question? When did she contact you?” I could barely contain my rage. Somebody freaking tell the truth.
 

“January,” said Leslie without turning around.
 

“When in January?”
 

“The twenty-seventh.”
 

That would’ve been after she and Lane came back from Ecuador. Something happened on that trip. “She contacted you?”
 

“Yes.”

“Did she ask you about the Grizzlies?”
 

“I told you—”

“You told me lies. She wanted to know when the Grizzlies would be here and she wanted the same weekend, didn’t she?”
 

Leslie hesitated and then turned around to meet my eyes. “Yes.”
 

“Did she give you a clue as to why she wanted to be here with them?”
 

John racked the pool balls and chalked a cue he’d plucked off the wall. “We assumed she wanted her son to go head to head with Enrique. The prize is decided here.”
 

“A reasonable idea, but that’s not why.”
 

John took his first shot, scattering the balls. The shot was casual. His eyes were actually on me when he took it, but he sank six balls. I didn’t know crap about pool, but that looked pretty good. “Why did she pick this weekend then?” he asked.