A.W. Hartoin - Mercy Watts 04 - Drop Dead Red (23 page)

The building was close, off on the left side of campus. There wasn’t exactly a fraternity row, but most of the houses were on one street, according to Google. I drank my latte and formulated a plot. Christopher was in St. Louis, so I’d say I was there to check that no one had gotten ill. I might not have to say anything at all. In my experience, fraternities weren’t as closed off as sororities. After all, the girls were lovely targets for Richard Speck types and the guys were only good for playing beer pong.
 

I mapped out my route to the frat and then strolled through campus past the science buildings and then the dorms. There were plenty of Christmas lights still up in the windows and various signs like, “Call your mother” taped to the glass. My nursing school experience had been much more sedate. My school was attached to the hospital and security was high. No parties. No Christmas lights. Dad loved it. He considered student nurses to be a high value target so we must be locked down.
 

The area by the dorms was mostly empty, broad expanses of green lawns. I was alone. Somehow that made me feel awfully exposed and nervous, more nervous than when I’d been in the crowds by PJ’s. Then a man came around the corner and I jerked back at his sudden appearance. He wasn’t wearing black at all and I relaxed. He was a brother in a long white cassock with the traditional beaded belt and large wooden cross. That’s where tradition ended. He was also wearing neon green Nike tennis shoes and a John Deere baseball cap. He smiled at me when we crossed paths and I felt safe again in a world where brothers like John Deere caps.
 

I exited the campus and joined the hubbub on the street. Cars were honking as students darted in front of them and ran for the campus. Delivery trucks pulled up onto the sidewalk and the drivers hauled open their big metal doors with grinding clangs. Much better than the quiet of the dorm area. Down the street I saw Christopher’s frat without trying. It was hideous and funny at the same time. The house was a two story, craftsman style, probably built in the thirties. There were wide concrete stairs down to the cracked sidewalk and they were painted in thirds, green, red, and orange. The house’s pillars were painted like barber poles and there were fake palm trees on the front porch and part of the lawn. The roof was missing some shingles. Half the windows were cracked and most of them were covered in what looked like beach towels instead of shades. Next door was a well-mannered sorority house. If it had a nose, it would’ve been wrinkled in distaste at its garish neighbor.
 

I stopped in front and lowered my glasses. “Wow.”
 

Two girls passed me, overburdened with enormous backpacks. They’d come out of the sorority and glanced up at Christopher’s house with sneers.
 

“Don’t go in there,” one hissed at me.
 

“Why not?” I asked.
 

“They’re being investigated.”
 

“Really? For what?”
 

The other girl drew back and said before hurrying away, “What do you think?”
 

Overwhelming roach infestation? Underage drinking? Hazing? I had no idea what they’d be investigated for if it wasn’t the normal stuff. Girls could be so difficult sometimes.
 

I walked up the stairs, dodging beer cans and a couple of bongs, and wondered if Donatella had actually seen where Christopher was living. The front door was locked so I knocked, even though it didn’t look like a knocking kind of joint. To my surprise, the door opened and I was face-to-face with one of the most straight-laced guys I’d ever come across and that’s saying something, since I was dating Pete. The guy wore pressed khakis, a snow-white polo, and heavy-rimmed black glasses.
 
His skin was flawless and he showed zero surprise at my appearance.
 

“Can I help you?” he asked in a soft New Orleans accent.
 

I smiled broadly. “I hope so. I’m here about Christopher Berry and the illness in his family.”
 

His smooth brow furrowed under his sleek brown hair. “Christopher’s in St. Louis.”
 

“I know. That’s why I’m here.” I held out my hand. “Mercy Watts and you are?”
 

“Toby Granger. I can’t tell you anything. We believe in privacy here.”
 

Please.

“Sure you do. I assume you know what happened at Tulio.”
 

“Tulio?”
 

“The restaurant in St. Louis where his father was murdered,” I said.
 

Toby swallowed hard. “Yeah. I know about that. Have you seen Chris?”
 

Best not to lie in such moments. I didn’t even know what Christopher looked like. “No. I’m friends with his mom, Donatella. They’re spending their days in the PICU with Abrielle and Colton.”
 

“Are they okay? I heard they were really sick.”

“They are. How well do you know Christopher?” I asked.
 

He shrugged and, I swear, his polo crackled. “A little. I’m a junior. Look, I’ve got to go.” He didn’t move or invite me in. I’d been counting on the frat guys not really caring what happened. Toby cared. Damn him.

“Okay. Look. Are you perhaps pre-med?” I asked.
 

“How’d you know that?”
 

“Educated guess. I’m a nurse. What do you know about listeriosis?”
 

He stared at me, so nothing. I gave him a quick rundown and then asked, “Can I come in? It’s getting hot out here.”

Toby sighed and opened the door wide. “Sure, but I have class in fifteen.”
 

I walked in and was surprised at how clean it was. The wood floors were shiny if a little scarred from use. No beer can pyramids or trashed furniture in the hall or in the TV room where Toby brought me. It was cheap particle board furniture, but nice. I guess they kept their crazy outside. Toby offered me a seat on a well-worn sofa, but didn’t sit down himself. Message received.
 

“So, did you see Christopher on the day his father was murdered?” I asked.
 

“Probably. I don’t remember,” said Toby.
 

“Do you perhaps remember seeing his brother and sister on that day? I believe their mother brought them here before they flew to St. Louis. She’s rather striking.”
 

“Oh, yeah. I guess I did. It was in the afternoon. I was going out to my Calc three study group.”
 

“Did you notice anything odd when they were here? Strangers hanging around the house? Stuff like that.”
 

“No, but I wasn’t really paying attention. Everything was fine,” said Toby, shuffling his feet and looking at his watch.
 

“How was Christopher doing? Any problems?”
 

Toby’s eyes shifted to the left before he answered and I perked up. “No, no, he’s fine.”
 

“So no problems whatsoever?” I asked, making sure I focused hard on him.
 

Another shift to the left. “No. Nothing.”
 

“Do you have any problems with Christopher?”
 

He looked me right in the eyes. “No. He’s a good kid.” He said that a little strongly, like someone might disagree.

There was movement in the hall, a brief flash of an arm. I hesitated, but they didn’t come in. I had the strong impression they were standing there, listening.
 

“I really have to go,” said Toby.
 

“Just a couple more questions,” I said. “What’s going on with the house? Some girls came by and told me that you’re being investigated.”
 

Toby flushed, his cheeks turning tomato red in an instant. “People say lots of things. Nothing’s going on. Nothing big.”
 

I watched him silently without blinking.
 

“We had a party. We’re a frat. We have parties. It’s not our fault if underage assholes come in and get wasted.”
 

“And that’s it?”
 

“What else could there be?”
 

“Something with Christopher perhaps,” I said with a winning smile, the one that had been known to disarm men much more experienced then young Toby. But I’d left it too late, an error on my part. I should’ve batted my eyelashes at the beginning. Dad would be so disappointed in my lousy timing. Toby was already too agitated to fall for my face and he just wanted to escape.
 

“I have to go.” He went for the door and I wasn’t going to talk him out of it.
 

“That’s fine, but I need to take a look at Christopher’s room.”
 

He stopped in his tracks. “What for?”
 

“Just a look-see. His siblings were poisoned with listeriosis. I’m supposed to find out where it came from.”
 

“It didn’t come from here,” he said.
 

“How do you know?” I asked.

“Nobody else is sick. I told you already.”
 

“So what will it hurt to let me take a look? Maybe the guy in the hall could take me up.”
 

“What guy?”
 

“The one hovering by the door, listening to our conversation,” I said, still smiling.
 

Toby flushed harder and walked into the hall. “Derek, what are you doing?”
 

A bulky kid with a good set of pimples stepped into the doorway. “Sorry. I was curious.” He glanced at me and I realized his red face was about me not about being caught eavesdropping.
 

“I was just going.” I stood up slowly and tossed back my hair. I really had no shame. I needed to get into Christopher’s room and that kid could get me there.
 

I walked over to Toby, while keeping my purse back out of his line of sight, and pulled one of Dad’s cards out. I held it low by my hip and slipped it to Derek as I passed. Then I thanked Toby for his help and sallied out the door with a good hip swing for Derek’s benefit. With any luck, I’d be back with a quickness.
 

Toby lied. He did not have class in fifteen or even in thirty. It took a painful forty-five minutes for my straight-laced obstructionist to leave the house. Minutes I spent standing on the corner next to a bar covered in band flyers and questionable substances. I hadn’t been to a college bar since the Byers case and I hadn’t missed it. There were five separate vomit spots along the front wall that someone had made a cursory attempt at washing away. The strong wee smell wasn’t helping my mood either. To be fair, the smell wasn’t much different than Bourbon Street and the surrounding blocks, but I found Bourbon much more diverting. At least there was music and interesting, if odd, people to watch. Toby made me stand in the muggy New Orleans sun, smelling vomit and getting hit on by delivery guys who thought their tongues were somehow enticing. Not so much. I could’ve kicked that over-starched liar in the shin. Get out.
 

And then he did. Toby walked out of the front door with a backpack, that was either brand new or ironed, and walked off toward the Science Buildings on campus. I waited until he vanished around the corner before I crossed the street to try my luck with Derek, who answered the door after one knock. He’d been waiting, a very good sign for me.
 

I stuck out my hand. “Mercy Watts, daughter of Tommy Watts.”
 

“I know,” he said breathlessly.
 

“Because of the card?”
 

“Because of you. I’m a criminal justice major.”
 

Sweet.

“I see, and you overheard me talking about Christopher?”
 

“Sorry, but I had to know why you were here.” Derek led me back into the TV room and closed the door behind us. “I saw you out the window, talking to those girls. I couldn’t believe Mercy Watts was at my frat. I about freaked the fuck out. Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
 

“It’s fine. Toby was pretty evasive. I could call Christopher’s mom and ask her what’s going on, but I’d rather not, if I don’t have to.”