A.W. Hartoin - Mercy Watts 04 - Drop Dead Red (50 page)

“Good luck,” said Cortier and she booked it down the stairs.
 

“I’m not picking you up,” I said to the cat.
 

Aunt Miriam flung open the door, her cane at the ready. “Are you alright? What are you doing?”
 

“Nothing. Just thinking, I guess.”

She glared at the cat, who ignored her and stalked into the condo with his tail in a question mark. “Sometimes it doesn’t pay to think too much. This is one of those times. What has happened has happened. Thinking won’t change it. Have you called him yet?”
 

Him? Chuck?

The cane rapped the floor. “Don’t play with me, Mercy. Call him and tell him you’ve finished this case.”
 

“Chuck isn’t answering,” I said in a small voice and her brittle expression softened.
 

“Not Chuck. The Fibonacci.”
 

I froze.
 

“I assume a man like that doesn’t stand in a freezing convent parking lot to pass the time of day. Have you finished it with him?”
 

“Um…not yet.”
 

“Then do it and collect whatever it is that you will collect.”
 

“I’m not getting anything,” I said. “How come you didn’t tell Dad about him?”
 

“You’d just started this hunt, and I decided that you might need backup of a most lethal kind. The Fibonaccis do provide for their friends. You are a friend, are you not?”
 

“I’m not an enemy.”
 

She snorted. “I should hope not.” Then she brightened up. “After you’ve finished, we’ll watch a movie.”
 

I paled. Then remembered we were in New Orleans, far from Aunt Miriam’s movie collection. “Sure. Great.”
 

“Willasteen has the entire
Omen
collection.”
 

No!

Aunt Miriam gave me her phone and went inside, whistling the theme song to
The Exorcist.
Nice. Just what I needed to not think about killing. Death and blood spatter. I groaned and then called Oz Urbani.
 

Oz’s voice was harsh and angry. “Yes?”
 

I hesitated, but said, “It’s Mercy. I wanted to give you an update, if you’re in the mood.”
 

“Sorry. I just found out that Donatella’s son was the target in New Orleans. You should’ve told me.”
 

“Why do you care so much?”
 

“I care about all of it. If anything else turns up, I want you to tell me who’s involved first.”
 

“I’m so not doing that and I don’t know why you’d ask me. You wanted Donatella cleared and I did that.”

His voice deepened. “I want them punished. All of them.”

I felt a little chill. “They will be, but not by you.”
 

“And if they aren’t convicted?”
 

Ah, there’s that slippery slope I’ve heard tell about.

“It’s a done deal,” I said. “Don’t worry.”
 

I could practically hear the smile on his lips. “I’ve given you incentive.”

“I didn’t need any. I always do my best.”
 

“Yes, you do.”
 

“Gotta go.”
 

“Mercy, I’ll owe you and no favor will be too big to ask.”
 

“Noted.”
 

I wasn’t sure if I felt good or bad about that. Keeping a favor from Oz in my hip pocket might be useful someday or it might be dangerous. As Aunt Miriam said, some things weren’t worth thinking about. I’d do whatever was necessary for the conviction. Besides, the Fibonaccis wouldn’t be deterred by something as trivial as what I wanted anyway.

Chapter Thirty

I LOOKED FOR the cat the next morning, but he was nowhere to be found. Mom didn’t want to talk about it and seemed to think his disappearance was to be expected. I didn’t expect it, but, then again, very few things happened that I expected. The plane I rode home in was one of those unexpected things. It was a cushy Cessna with leather seats and I was the only passenger. I sat curled up with my forehead propped up against the little oval window. St. Louis was having a snow storm, but we were cleared for landing. Normally, I would’ve been all tense and barfy in such weather, but I was oddly calm. Going home, never felt so bad. Crashing was the least of my worries. Everyone was mad at me. But, at least,
my
cat could be counted on to like me and to stay where he was supposed to. That was a comfort. Nothing else was. I wouldn’t find Pete snoozing on my sofa or special chocolates hidden in my apartment. Chuck had disappeared. Mom said Dad was talking to me, but he was just so darn busy at the moment that he couldn’t find the time. Yeah, right. Uncle Morty wasn’t answering his phone and neither were Aaron or Rodney. Usually, I could count on them for general cluelessness, but it looked like the alienation of their wizard was enough to put them off me. I’d been trying to get rid of Aaron for a long time. Now that he was gone, I felt empty and like I didn’t fit right in my own skin. Who was I without my people?
 

The captain came over the sound system and informed me that we’d land in ten and then taxi into the hanger. I slipped on my sweater and wondered how hard it would be to get a cab. Nobody would be picking me up. That was for sure. Normally, I’d head straight for my godmothers. Millicent and Myrtle were my comfort people. They were usually on my side, but I doubted this time would be like that. My godmothers loved Chuck. Hurting him wasn’t going to be looked on with a kind eye. So I would take a cab home, call my service and see how many hours I could work for the foreseeable future.
 

The wheels gently touched down and we taxied into the hanger so fast that I was shocked. The co-pilot, Matt, came out and opened the door. The ground crew extended the stairs and I gathered my stuff. The whole thing was embarrassing. All that effort for one person.
 

“All set, Miss Watts,” said Matt with a smile. “And he’s already here.”
 

“He?”
 

“Your father. I met him when he dropped off your mother and aunt.” He cocked his head to the side. “Are you okay?”
 

“Um…you’ve seen him? He’s out there?”
 

“Yes. He’s walking over right now.”
 

Oh my god. He’s going to yell about so many things. Killing that guy. Chuck. Wrecking Nana’s rug. Chuck.

There was a creak from the stairs and then Dad stuck his head in. “There you are. Let’s get a move on. We have to take off.”
 

I stared at him, looking for signs of the tongue lashing that I was due. “Who’s taking off?”
 

“Me.”
 

“Are you going somewhere?”
 

“Think, Mercy. I’m going to New Orleans.” He rubbed his hands together fiercely. “I’ve got some catfish to serve up.”
 

Already? Crap.

Dad backed down the stairs and I followed, holding my carry-on like a shield. At the foot of the stairs, Dad held the little carry-on that he used for business trips and his laptop bag. He was traveling light, even for him.
 

“Not staying long?” I asked.
 

“Long enough. We need to talk.”
 

Do we have to?

I picked at the lint on my sweater. “How pissed are you?”
 

“Pretty freaking pissed. I can’t believe he left you like that,” said Dad, his blue eyes icy.
 

“Huh? What?”
 

“Chuck. He left you there when he knew the Costillas were hunting Stevie.” He ran his fingers through his hair the way he did when he was trying to contain his emotions. It was really the only way I knew he had them, his voice was so clipped and business like.
 

“You’re mad at Chuck?”
 

“I’m not mad. I’m fucking furious.” Dad grabbed me and hugged me hard to his bony chest.
 

I’m in the clear. It’s a miracle!

“So you’re not mad at me?” I asked, all warm and filled with love.
 

Dad jerked me back and gave me a little shake. “Hell, yeah, I’m mad at you. You made him leave you there like a damn idiot. And now he’s gone off and potentially screwed himself. Thanks to you and your…kissing and whatnot.”
 

“There was no whatnot, Dad.”
 

He held up his hand. “I don’t want to know. Of course, I didn’t want to see that video either, but I thought you’d finally gotten a clue. I can see I was optimistic to the extreme.”
 

I rubbed my eyes. “I don’t get it. Who are you mad at?”
 

“Everybody!”

“I did solve the case. Donatella’s in the clear. Ameche, my people as you call him, is taken care of.”
 

“Well, that’s a redeeming factor,” he said grudgingly.
 

“And I cleared Christopher of the rape allegation.”
 

“I suppose that’s a good thing, although it was only an allegation.”
 

I smiled and hit Dad where it counted. “And you’re probably going to get credit for opening up the murder case against Farrell in his wife’s death.”
 

Dad stroked his chin. “Good publicity. Good for business. Alright. I suppose I won’t be disinheriting you this time.”
 

“That’s a relief,” I said with a sneer.
 

“It should be. This thing with Chuck is beyond the pale. Don’t you know how much I count on him?”

Matt brought me my suitcase and told Dad they’d be ready to take off after refueling. A bitter wind was whipping in through the open doors and we headed for the small passenger lounge. Once inside, I poured a cup of surprisingly good coffee before asking the question I was dreading. “So is Chuck not speaking to you either?”

“He’s not speaking to anyone.” Dad took my cup and glared at me.
 

“What do you mean? He has to speak to someone. What about his guys, Nazir and the other detectives?”
 

Dad shook his head. “So Mom didn’t tell you.”
 

I poured a second cup, so I could put off whatever was coming.
 

“Chuck’s gone UC.”

I overflowed the cup and burned my hand. Dad grabbed it, tossing it into the trashcan. Then he ran my hands under cool water in the sink and patted them dry with napkins. Dad can delay with the best of them.
 

“So,” I said, “he’s undercover. Where? Why? You never did it.”
 

Dad tossed the napkins. “I had your mother and then you.”
 

“And Chuck has nothing. Is that what you’re saying?”
 

“It’s done. He’s gone.”
 

“
You
don’t know where he is? You of all people,” I said.
 

“I don’t know. Narcotics operation is my best guess. He’s well versed.”
 

“How long?” I asked.
 

“As long as it takes.”
 

“Like a year.”
 

Dad shrugged. “Could be or longer.”
 

Oh my god. I’m going to be sick. Really sick. Like Exorcist sick.
 

Dad gently sat me in a chair and put the trash can between my knees. Matt came in, saw me, and did an about face.
 

“It’s my fault,” I said.

Dad gave me a tissue. “No point in speculating. They’ve been wanting him for a long time and he finally made the jump. We’ve got other fish to fry.”
 

I blew my nose and swallowed hard. “Like what? It’s all done.”
 

“I can’t do it, Mercy. I tried, but I can’t. There’s no solid connection between Blankenship and Andrew Marlin.”
 

“They can’t charge Andrew? He obviously orchestrated the Tulio shooting.”
 

“Oh, they’ll charge him and it’ll go to trial, but it’s all circumstantial. Why do you think I’m going to New Orleans? It’s over,” said Dad, sitting next to me.
 

Oz is going to freak.

“It can’t be. You’ll find something.”
 

“I’ve been doing this for longer than you’ve been alive. The cops aren’t going to find any hard core evidence and neither will the FBI. It just isn’t going to happen. You get a feel for this after a while.”

The Fibonacci don’t care about evidence.
 

I pushed away the trash can and crossed my arms and legs. “Why do I get the feeling that isn’t the end of it for me?”