A Good Man Gone (Mercy Watts Mysteries) (36 page)

It came down to what I was capable of, which wasn’t much. The pain in my head was getting worse and every breath was fire. Damn it. I had to get moving. I didn’t know how long he’d been gone, but it was too long. I looked up over my hand and saw a water spigot. The piping went up the side of the building and looked sturdy. Maybe if I could drag myself upright I could inch along, using the wall as a brace. It had to be faster than crawling, as long as my head could take it.

I belly crawled to the pipe and grasped the spigot. My hands shook so that I could hardly get them on it. I inched my way up the wall, maneuvered myself until I was in a seated chair position. It wasn’t too bad. My head felt like the Fourth of July, but I was moving. I let go of the pipe and flattened my hands against the wall, spread eagle. I wiggled and slid toward the parking lot. I was feeling pretty good about it, all things considered. I was snail slow, but I could hear the sounds of the road. If I had to, I knew I could scoot around to the front.

Then I bumped into something cold and metallic, a drainpipe. I rolled on the wall and grabbed it with both hands and nearly fell to my knees. A couple of deep breaths and I was ready to move over it.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

I opened my eyes. My nose touched the chipped gray paint of the drainpipe and my breath grew more ragged. She was back. Not him. She. I pulled myself closer to the pipe and put my cheekbone against it and I looked at her. Lee’s mother stood so close I could count the large pores on her cheeks and the clumps of mascara on her lashes. I couldn’t think of a thing to say. All my powers of sarcasm left me and all I had was hot breath and fear.

“You lied to us.” Mrs. Holtmeyer moved in closer and I smelled her breath, coffee and Kahlua.

“Huh?”

“You said you weren’t a cop.”

“I’m not.”

“Detective Watts, the reverend called you, Detective Watts. You lied.”

“I lied to her, so she wouldn’t tell the cops about me.”

“You lied.” She looked at me like lying was the worst thing in the world; worse than, say, murder.

Must stall. I’ll be missed eventually.

“Lee lied,” I said through clenched teeth.

Her head jerked back a couple inches. “Lee does not lie.”

“He lied to Rebecca.”

“He loved her. He never lied to her.”

“He sure as hell never told her he was fucking stalking her.”

“He never hurt her,”

“You’re a fucking idiot.” I knew it was a mistake the second it came out of my mouth. Mrs. Holtmeyer lunged at me, her fingernails going for my face. I swung my cast around and connected with her cheekbone. Her fingers grazed my cheek, but she stumbled and fell at my feet. The movement was too much. I lost my grip on the pipe.

Before I hit the rocks, she was on me, grabbing my hair. “You interfering bitch.” She twisted my head with my hair and pushed my head into the rocks. I like to think I screamed, but I doubt I did. I didn’t have enough air.

“You’ll leave my boys alone now, won’t you,” she said in a low, controlled voice.

I flailed my good arm behind my head and grabbed her wrist. I dug my fingernails into her veins and she screamed. She let go of my hair and grabbed my good wrist. She twisted it behind my back. I heard a pop and a tremendous weight fell on me. My face was driven into the gravel. I forced my head from side to side, trying to make a hollow for air when the weight lifted. I pushed myself over on my side with my cast. Just before I passed out, I saw Aaron looking down at me holding Aunt Miriam’s cane in his hand like a mace.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I WOKE TO a warm hand stroking my forehead and the smell of good cologne in my nose.

“Dad?”

“No, Chuck.”

I opened my eyes and saw Chuck bent over me. His white dress shirt had the top two buttons undone, revealing his collarbone and a tangle of chest hair. His shield was at his waist and his face had an expression I’d never seen on it before. Maybe distraught. I tried to move my head, but I was in a neck brace and strapped to a backboard.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” he said.

“Stop touching me.”

“Not a chance and you called me. Remember?”

“Go away.” I tried to yell it, but my lungs and jaw wouldn’t let me. If I could’ve grabbed his hand, I might’ve bit him.

“Stay still,” said Chuck. “And stop trying to bite me.”

Someone else knelt beside me and picked up my wrist. I screamed and passed out again. When I woke up, Chuck said, “I guess her lungs are fine.”

Several people laughed and I really wanted to bite him. Cops and EMTs were swarming all over the place. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw another person lying facedown a few feet from me. Chuck saw me looking and said, “That’s Holtmeyer. She’s still alive, unfortunately.”

“They’re all crazy,” I whispered.

“Not crazy enough and we have the death penalty.”

I started to cry, one of those big ugly cries, and I couldn’t even cover my face with my hands.

“I didn’t know you wear thongs,” Chuck said.

“What?” I said.

“Thongs. You wear thongs. I didn’t know you were a thong kind of girl.”

“How do you know I wear thongs?” Just then a breeze hit my stomach and thighs. The tears dried in my eyes and I was back to biting. “Oh my God. Pull my dress down, you sleazebag.”

Chuck tugged on my hem. “I like this dress.”

“I’m glad it’s ruined then.”

Chuck laughed and left me to the EMTs. I watched him walk to the ambulance a few feet away. Aunt Miriam sat on a gurney looking at me with an oxygen mask on her face. Chuck and the ambulance dwarfed her. She looked old and fragile. I wasn’t accustomed to seeing her that way, an old woman.

I closed my eyes and watched the spots dance across my vision. The pain was better, but the IV in my arm could’ve had something to do with that. The EMT told me they were going to transfer me to a gurney for transport to St. John’s. Chuck came back and touched my leg. I thought about kicking him, but found I didn’t care all that much who touched my leg.

They lifted on three and there wasn’t enough drugs on board to control the pain. I screamed until I panted from the effort then a hand touched my forehead. A kiss brushed my cheek and I smelled lavender. Aunt Miriam. The oxygen mask was off and her eyes were inches from mine. She whispered in my ear. I wish I could remember what she said. Mostly I remember her eyes. The blueness of them and how much they looked like Dad’s.

The next twelve hours alternated between hazy suggestions of events and long periods of nothing. I remember the blinding lights of the ER and the pain they caused. I remember my arm being popped back into its socket. I think Chuck and Nazir tried to ask me questions. I might’ve told them to shove it or something like. Pete flitted in and out like a hummingbird. I woke up once as he slept with his head on the edge of my bed, snoring and clutching my chart to his chest. I tried to touch his head, but fell asleep before I managed it.

I didn’t wake up again until the next day. My IV pump alarm was going ape shit and there were two nurse’s aides hitting buttons like a couple of woodpeckers.

“Get the key,” I said.

They both turned and stared at me.

“I’m a nurse.”

“Do you know how to turn this thing off?” It said Peggy on her tag. She didn’t look like a Peggy to me. I wondered if she had the wrong tag.

“You need the key,” I said.

Peg and her partner in stupidity asked each other if they had the key. It was a good thing I wasn’t coding because that would’ve been all she wrote. The more I listened to Peg and Glenda the more likely it seemed that they might not have on the right tags. They might, in fact, be janitors.

“Call the desk,” I said.

I was on a morphine drip, but the noise was increasing my migraine by the second. Peg tried to call the desk on my intercom, but they couldn’t hear her over the alarm and they both went in search of the key. My mother crossed their path, walking in with a tall pink cake box and coffee.

“Unplug it,” I yelled.

Mom yanked the plug out of the wall, but the alarm kept going. Mom looked at me and I said, “Push it over here.” My formerly good arm was in a sling, but my casted arm was free. I had enough finger mobility to unclip my medication drip from the pump and told Mom to unhook the IV bag. Mom pushed the squealing pump into the hall and closed the door. She took a deep breath and turned around.

“Feeling better, I see,” she said.

“I’m okay.” I stuck out my lower lip. I wanted sympathy, not a positive assessment.

Mom placed the cake box on my rolling table, lowered it to the height of the chair next to my bed and got a fork out of her purse.

“Hey, I said I’m okay.”

“I don’t know if okay is good enough for this cake. This is an extreme dessert.”

“I think I’ll risk it.”

Mom kicked off her shoes, a big no-no in public, and cuddled into my bed beside me. She folded down the sides of the cake box and I got all misty. German chocolate. My favorite made by Myrtle and Millicent. I could tell by the huge dark chocolate curls. They made the best curls.

“Don’t cry,” said Mom, dabbing at my eyes with a tissue.

“It’s my cake and I’ll cry if I want to.”

Then Mom cried a little, although she called it allergies. She has no allergies, the big softy. To distract her I asked if Ellen had come by. Mom said she had, but I was still out of it and Sophie peed on the floor, so she had to go. Mom didn’t approve of Sophie. She said the tiny girl was a hellion. I guess she would know, considering that she’d raised me.

The thought of difficult little blonds dried Mom’s eyes and we ate my unbelievably fabulous cake while we watched Channel 5’s coverage of my escapade. I was impressed with myself. Mom wasn’t.

“I’ll never know why you chose to go into that storage room. What were you thinking?”

“I was trying to call Chuck. It was too loud everywhere else.”

“You isolated yourself when you knew a murderer was in the vicinity.”

“But I didn’t know Darrell knew I knew. Give me a break.”

Mom put her head to mine and patted my cheek. “I know, I know. Think before you act next time, honey.”

Next time?

“It’s a good thing Chuck was there.”

“Why? He didn’t do anything.”

He did get a sweet interview on Channel 5 though. Bastard.

“He arrested the Holtmeyers for double murder.”

“After I figured out who did it. Jeez, Mom,” I said.

“Oh, Mercy. Everybody knows you did a good job.”

Yeah, just not anyone who watches Channel 5.

“If Chuck hadn’t been there, they might’ve gotten away,” Mom said.

“No, they wouldn’t have. I clobbered Darrell and Aaron clobbered his mom.”

Mom gave me a funny look. It did sound stupid. Aaron clobbered her? The only thing Aaron clobbered was food.

“Aaron was there, wasn’t he?” I asked.

“Yes, he saved your bacon, so to speak. I’d say you owe him one.”

Great. I owed Aaron. The only thing worse would be owing Chuck.

“You owe me, too.” Chuck walked into my room, smirking and holding a bag of Krispy Kremes.

“A cop with donuts, imagine that,” I said.

“It’s a stereotype for a reason, baby.”

“Please don’t call me baby. It makes me nauseous.”

“Whatever you say, baby,” he said as he attacked a glazed raised.

“Why are you here? Don’t you have some unsuspecting nurse to harass?” I asked.

Chuck smiled so that he looked like Jack Nicholson’s Joker, only sleazy, not evil.

“Some
other
nurse. I already suspect you,” I said.

“Too bad.”

“And what am I supposed to owe you for anyway?”

“How about arresting the people that tried to kill you?”

“Any first year rookie could’ve done that. Aaron and I did all the hard work,” I said.

“So Aaron’s your partner now,” said Chuck.

“I don’t have a partner. I don’t need a partner.

“Actually, your father and I have reached a decision,” said Mom.

Oh no. The last time I heard that line was when they tried to send me to an all girls high school.

“Mercy?” asked Mom. “Don’t you want to hear what I have to say?”

“No, I’m good.”

Chuck laughed and got comfortable.

“This is the second time you’ve been seriously injured in the course of an investigation and we feel you can’t continue helping the family in this manner.”

Yes!

“So in future investigations, Aaron will be your partner.”

No!

Chuck doubled over.

“Mom, how about we try something else like I’m a nurse and I do nursing. Aaron can help Dad if he wants to. Leave me out of it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”