A.W. Hartoin - Mercy Watts 04 - Drop Dead Red (20 page)

The cab stopped and I dragged out paying, so I could think of a plan in case Stevie was still in the house. Who was I kidding? He was in the house. I’d have to manually throw him out to get rid of him. And he rented that storage unit in basically his own name. The Costilla brothers would be joining the party in no time. I could just go to a hotel. The Quarter was lousy with hotels.
 

My cab door opened and Chuck leaned in, filling the cab with his scent of cologne and wintergreen gum. “What’re you doing? Thinking up an escape?”
 

“No,” I said with what I hoped passed as honesty. “I’m paying.”
 

Chuck gave the cab driver some twenties and pulled me out. “You’ve paid. See how quick that was?”
 

“You’re ever so much smarter than me, I guess,” I said while trying to brush by him, but he held my arm tight.
 

“Where are you going so fast?” he asked

“I’m tired and I have to…to feed the cat.”
 

“Your grandparents have a cat? That’s weird.”
 

At least I wasn’t the only one who thought so.

“Yes, they do. Let go.”
 

He did let go and trailed me to the gate. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m doing here?”
 

“I assume it’s to bother me,” I said, stuffing the key into the lock.
 

“It is, of course, but I do have other business.” He smiled and leaned over me.
 

“Go and do that.”
 

“Oh, I’ll
do
some things,” he said.
 

Ew.
 

“There’re no things here that require doing. Get lost.” I yanked opened the gate and he pushed it back closed. It locked automatically. Damn it.
 

“Aren’t you going to ask me in?” he asked, ruffling my hair with his wintergreen-scented breath. “Your nana would ask me in.”
 

“She likes you,” I said, sticking the key back in the lock.
 

“Everybody likes me.”
 

“No, that’s Aaron. You probably have hundreds of people who hate you. Criminals, boyfriends of the girls you’ve seduced.”
 

“I’ve never seduced anyone’s girlfriend. They don’t always mention the boyfriend.”
 

“Or the husband.”
 

He nodded. “Or the husband. Especially the husband.”
 

“You are a menace.” I managed to open the gate an inch. “Get out of my way.”
 

Chuck grinned. “You’re nervous. We are alone in a romantic city.”
 

“
I’m
alone in this city and
you
are alone in this city.
We
are not anything.”
 

“Ask me why I’m here then,” Chuck said.
 

“No.”
 

“Okay. Then I’ll show you.” He opened the gate, despite my best effort to close it, and walked down the alley. “Don’t worry. I know the way.”
 

I ran after him, grabbing his hand. “No, you don’t. Get out.”
 

“You’re holding my hand. About time.”
 

“Ew.” I dropped his hand, but I could still feel its heat.
 

He laughed and easily out-paced me. I ran into the courtyard and dashed in front of the door, blocking it with my body. “You can’t go in there. Because…”
 

“You’re hot for me. I know.” Chuck smiled so wide it looked like it hurt.

“No, I’m not and that’s not the reason. Pete. Pete wouldn’t like it.”
 

Chuck went over and sat on the wall in front of the fountain. He wasn’t going anywhere. “I’m sure he wouldn’t, but that’s not why you don’t want me in the house.”
 

“Yes. Yes, it is.” I fumbled with the house key and calculated the odds of me unlocking the door and getting in before he got to me. They weren’t good.
 

“There are a couple of reasons you don’t want me in the house. I’m me, for one.”
 

I sneered.
 

“And, for two, Stevie Warnock’s in there.”
 

I gasped and he laughed.
 

“He is not. Don’t be ridiculous,” I said.
 

“You thought it was just dumb luck that Stevie ended up here at your nana’s house right when you’re here? Stevie’s not lucky. He’s an idiot. We set him up.”
 

Oh my god. I’m the idiot.

“How?” I squeezed out.
 

“Stevie knows his mother’s password. We planted the email from your mom, saying you’d be here, so we could swoop in and nab the moron before he gets himself killed.”
 

“If you knew that I’d be here, why’d my dad and Big Steve send you down?” I asked. “I wouldn’t protect Stevie.”

“You’d never turn him in to the cops. You’ve got a soft spot for misfits and fools and Stevie qualifies on both,” said Chuck.
 

“I do not. I’ve tazed him more than once, for heaven’s sake.”
 

“And you’ve let him go more than once. Big Steve wants him brought home immediately.”

“What’s the point? It’s his life.”
 

“It’s Olivia that Big Steve is protecting. Word on the street is that he stole from the Costillas. They’ll kill him if we don’t get him into custody and he needs to surrender in Missouri.”

“They’ll kill him in jail,” I said.
 

“Come on, Mercy. Stevie’s going to end up in prison or dead, one way or another. At home we have a better chance of keeping him alive. He’s dead without us. He’s a complete idiot.”
 

Before I could confirm Chuck’s assessment, Stevie did it himself. He leaned out the second story window and yelled my name. We looked up in amazement. Anybody else would’ve spotted Chuck, climbed out a front window and ran for it, but not Stevie. How had that guy come from Big Steve and Olivia? His gene pool was stellar, but it was like he forgot to dive in.

Chuck laughed. “You were saying something about not protecting Stevie?”
 

“Hey, Chuck,” Stevie called down. “What are you doing here?”
 

“Guess,” said Chuck.
 

“You and Mercy finally hooking up? I get it. A little romantic thing down here at Nana’s house. It’s cool with me. You guys want to go see a movie? How about dinner?”
 

“Dude, if I was here to get it on with Mercy, why would I want to go to a movie with you?”
 

“I’m a fun guy.”
 

Chuck shook his head. “See what I mean? Prison or dead. Open the door, Mercy. It’s unavoidable.”
 

It was, so I did.
 

The cat watched us from the top of a bookshelf. Its green eyes glowed in the gloom. Stevie claimed he didn’t let it back in and I almost believed him. Stevie could be quite sincere.
 

“There’s something weird about that cat,” said Chuck. “How did he get up there? I don’t see any claw marks on the shelves.”
 

“I really don’t care,” I said. “Can you get him for me?”

Chuck took Blackie off the bookshelf and gave him to me. The cat was warm and smooth in my hands and he looked completely unconcerned when I tossed him out the door. He landed gracefully, gave me a sidelong glance, and stalked across the courtyard toward the servant’s quarters.
 

“What’s up with that cat?” asked Stevie. “It never meows.”
 

“Why would it meow?” I asked, increasingly worried. I left Stevie alone with Nana’s cat. I’d never known him to be violent or cruel. But still, there was a first time for everything. “Did you do something to the cat?”

“I poked it,” he said.
 

“Why?”
 

“‘Cause it’s weird. You know it’s weird, right?”
 

“It’s a cat.”
 

“Nah. That’s a weird cat.” He plopped down on the sofa and propped his feet up on the trunk that served as Pop Pop’s sofa table. “I gotta eat. Let’s go eat.”
 

“You’re not eating. You’re leaving with Chuck,” I said.

“Where are we going?” asked Stevie.

“Back to St. Louis, so the Costillas don’t kill you in my nana’s house.”
 

“Nah. I’ll stay here,” he said. “I could use a good po’boy. You want a po’boy?”

“No, I don’t want a damn po’boy. I want you two out.”

Chuck stifled a laugh and made an effort to drop the glee off his face. Then he sat down and turned on a hockey game. He didn’t even like hockey. “I think we’ll stay a while. See if we can help you out.”
 

“I don’t need any help from either of you. Get out.” I didn’t mind Aaron, tagging along, so much. He was unobtrusive and came with an endless supply of chocolate. Stevie came with endless stupidity and Chuck came with irritating hotness. Neither were helpful.
 

Chuck sniffed. “You need help cooking. What is that smell?”
 

“Stevie made rancid sausages. I made him throw them away,” I said.
 

Stevie burped. “I ate ‘em.”
 

I slapped my forehead. “I told you they were bad.”
 

“Nah. They were good. I wonder if I could find that guy again.”
 

“What guy?” asked Chuck.
 

“The guy that was selling the sausages out of the back of his van.”
 

Chuck crossed his arms. “Give me a description. Do you remember the license plate number?”
 

“It was Louisiana. Maybe started with a T.” Stevie’s forehead wrinkled. He might’ve been thinking. It was the first time I’d seen it happen.
 

“What are you doing?” I asked.
 

“Getting a solid description,” said Chuck, “so we can find that van.”
 

“So you can turn him in to the health inspector?” I asked, hopefully.
 

“So we can buy some sausages.”
 

I threw up my hands, went upstairs to my bedroom, and slammed the door so hard the pictures rattled on the walls. How was I going to get rid of those two? I looked out the window and bit my lip. Climbing out might work. There was a stone ledge where I could inch along until I got to the garden wall. I could lure those two outside and then lock them out. That would definitely work with Stevie. I’d managed to lure him into my truck with a hamburger once. Then I tazed him and took him to his dad. Chuck was another story. I could probably get him out, but it would take a hot woman to keep him out. While I was looking outside, the cat came sidling across the garden wall, sat on its slim butt, and stared at me.
 

“You
are
a weird cat,” I said.
 

It yawned. If it hadn’t, you would’ve thought it was stuffed.
 

My phone rang and made me jump. Uncle Morty. Finally.
 

“Stop sending me texts,” he snarled.
 

“I wouldn’t have to, if you answered,” I said.
 

“Yeah, right. You’re such a girl.”
 

“What does that mean?”
 

“Girls love the hell out of texting. I’m putting it in a book,” he said.
 

“Your books have swords and dragons. Where do cellphones fit in?” I asked.
 

“I can put a cellphone in, if I want. I’m the damn writer. You want that shit you been bugging me about?”
 

“Yes.” I drew the word out nice and long, just the way he hated.
 

Uncle Morty growled and gave me a quick rundown. Calvin Donnelly, the science teacher, was at school the whole day of the Tulio shooting so he had no access to Abrielle and Colton. There was no connection between Donnelly, the other Berrys, or Blankenship that Uncle Morty could find, and it pissed him off.