A Good Man Gone (Mercy Watts Mysteries) (21 page)

It was dusk in the Central West End and a single light above the front door beckoned us to come forward. It wasn’t the welcoming sight I was used to. The conservatories were usually lit to show off their beauty. The Girls liked light. They rarely turned off any switch. In recent years, Dad had gotten them hooked on a computerized lighting system. They liked to fiddle with it and turn the lights to different intensities, have some go on or off at special times of the day. The last I’d heard, Millicent was trying to program the garden walkways to follow a musical program. But that night, it was all dark, even the stained glass windows. I felt weird about going up to the door. The Girls were home, they buzzed us in, but the house was all wrong. I looked around and realized the grass was uncut and there were leaves floating in the four fountains, the water, for once in my life, not gushing.

“It looks abandoned,” said Pete.

“I know. It’s weird. I wonder if the lighting program got fried,” I said.

We walked up the marble steps to the oversized front entrance. The doors themselves were recessed by a foot and encased in more ironwork. I reached through and lifted the iron crow that served as a knocker. I dropped it and it made a heavy plinking noise that would echo through the hallways. A second later, Millicent opened the right door half a foot and peered out at us.

“Hello, dear. How are you this evening?”

“I’m fine, Millicent. This is my friend, Dr. Peter Linderhoff. We wanted to return your dishes.” I waited for her to invite us in. She didn’t.

“Thank you, dear. So kind.” Millicent reached back and I heard a buzz and a click. The iron door slid back into the wall. Millicent took the dishes from Pete, apologized for not being more hospitable, said Myrtle was ill, and bade us goodnight. Before I knew it, the door closed and the iron door slid back into place.

“Okay. I know they’re like family, but that was odd,” said Pete.

“Something’s wrong. They love me. They love men. I figured we’d be here until midnight if we weren’t careful.”

We walked back past the neglected fountains and out the gate. Stern’s, the grocery that existed only to serve Hawthorne Avenue, was six blocks away. I held Pete’s hand and we walked there in silence. Pete bought Dad’s crackers and cheese while I tried to think of a way to get in that house.

Chapter Sixteen
 

MY PARENTS’ HOUSE was silent when we got back. On the second floor, I could hear Mom and Dixie talking in the master bath. It was their habit. If the worst happens, go hang out in the bathroom. I couldn’t throw stones. My best friend, Ellen, and I spent plenty of hours in there, getting ready to go out and discussing our so-called problems. Mom’s bathroom was a sanctuary with a huge claw-footed tub, dressing table with velvet bench and an archway into the dressing room. Dixie was probably crying in a bubble bath, while Mom listened and applied a moisturizing mud mask.

Pete and I went into the guest bedroom and found Dad sleeping. My mother’s cats had emerged from their hiding place and were sitting at the foot of the bed looking like a couple of Egyptian statues.

“So that’s them. The sofa pee-ers,” Pete said, gesturing to the cats.

“Uh-huh. That’s Swish on the left and the other one’s Swat.” I glared at the cats, but they didn’t acknowledge that we’d entered the room.

“Swish and Swat?”

“They have real names on their pedigrees, but we call them like we see them.”

Pete sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the cats. Neither responded. They both stared at Dad and were expressionless. That might sound odd, but those cats had definite expressions. Maybe it had something to do with being well-bred Siamese. My own cat, Skanky, had no expressions. He barely had a brain.

Pete took Dad’s pulse and blood pressure. When he finished, he pronounced him marginally better. As we looked at Dad, Swat stood up, stretched languidly, and walked up the length of Dad’s body. He stood on Dad’s chest. After a few seconds, he sniffed Dad’s nose, sat down, stuck his leg straight up, and cleaned his butt.

“I need a camera,” I said and ran to the office. When I came back, Swat was biting his butt, and Pete was stifling a laugh.

Pete turned red. “I can’t stand it.” He ran out of the room and I heard him laughing in the hall. I shot pictures from every angle until Mom heard the laughter and came in.

“Don’t take pictures, Mercy. That’s not nice,” she said.

“I want to remember this moment.”

Mom shooed the cats off the bed. Pete got paged and left for the hospital. We woke Dad for the cracker test an hour later. He was groggy, but ate half a saltine.

“Why are you smiling?” he asked with narrowed eyes.

“No reason, honey. Go back to sleep,” Mom said.

Dad ignored Mom. “How’s the case?”

“Fine. Try to get some sleep,” I said.

“I don’t need any more sleep. I didn’t come home to sleep.”

“He is better.”

“He’s not better.” Mom pulled the covers up and Dad shooed her away like she shooed the cats.

“Tell me,” Dad said.

“Okay. I photographed the scene, fixed Dixie’s muffler, walked through the church, and talked to Gavin’s last client.” When I said it like that, it sounded like I’d been sitting on my ass.

“That’s all?”

“I went to the morgue, too.”

Dad growled and tried to sit up. “I’ll take over from here.”

“That sounds like an excellent plan. Goodnight, Mercy dear,” said Mom.

“An excellent plan? Dad can’t take over stink.”

“It’ll be fine. He might be well enough tomorrow.”

Swat jumped up on the bed and licked his chops. He had an interesting expression on his pointed face. I could’ve sworn he was thinking, “I just cleaned my ass on you. You’re not going anywhere.”

Mom grabbed me by the arm and steered me out of the room, down the stairs, and into the kitchen.

“Can’t you let anything go?” she asked.

“He’s sick as a dog. He’s not going to the bathroom by himself.”

“I know that. It won’t hurt to let him think he’s going to take over, and then you just keep going.”

“What if I don’t want to keep going?”

“Please. I don’t have the energy for this.” Mom rolled her eyes and rubbed her head. Her hair, which had been damp when she came out of the bathroom, had dried into soft curls around her face. She was pretty, much prettier than a woman her age had a right to be. I thanked God for my fortunate gene pool, mixed blessing though it was.

“What am I expected to do now?” I asked.

“What would you have done if we hadn’t gotten a flight?”

“More interviews, I guess.”

“Then it’s settled. Do that.” Mom handed me my purse and indicated I shouldn’t let the door hit me on the way out.

“You want me to leave?”

“Don’t you have to feed Skanky?”

“He has a self-feeder and Dad might get worse.”

“You’re three blocks away. I think I can handle it.”

“Fine, but I want to give him the next dose of Zofran in a half hour. That way we won’t have to worry about nausea during the night and I’ll be by first thing in the morning.”

Mom nodded her assent. Thirty-three minutes later I was out the door and walking home. The door didn’t hit me.

Chapter Seventeen

I WOKE THE next morning in my own bed with Skanky curled beside me. He slept with his mouth open and made little kicking motions with his feet, dreaming about feline heroics, no doubt. I took a drink from my water glass that I have to have next to my bed or I can’t sleep. That’s on the Neuroses That Mom Gave Me list. Skanky woke and did a long stretch with his butt in the air and let out a big curly-tongued yawn. I patted him, while I called Mom. She said Dad had a good night and was sleeping. She wanted me to get on with the investigation. I told her about Millicent’s odd behavior the night before and she dismissed me as a worrywart. I hung up feeling a bit like a hysteric. Everything in the last few days was a crisis and I was starting to see them everywhere I turned.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I said to Skanky. “You’re biggest problem is where to take a nap today. You don’t even have balls.”

He sneezed, fell over, and began cleaning between each and every one of his toes. Cats never did listen to me. I searched around until I found my cell phone in a pile of dirty clothes. I needed to check my messages in case I got one from someone other than a pervert. The first three texts were from Suck, We’re Horne, and Horney 4 Mercy. You know it’s bad when the perverts can’t spell horny. The rest followed in the same vein. I could’ve changed my number, but that was such a pain. I deleted every one and called my agency. Dolores wasn’t thrilled that I didn’t want to work for awhile, but she’d live.

I got into a hot shower and lathered up while listening to Skanky mewing at me for food through the glass door. Being yelled at in the shower doesn’t make for a good time, so I cut it short and fed the beast. He ate, cleaned, and immediately went back to sleep. His life is hard. The landline rang. I could tell it was Uncle Morty just from the grumpy ring.

“How’s Tommy?” he said.

“Pretty sick. Good morning to you too,” I said.

“Yeah, yeah. I got your info on the dead bride’s husband.”

“Great.”

“Yeah, swell, who’s paying for this?”

“It’s for Gavin.”

“Don’t you give me that crap. This is a separate crime and I got a business to run.”

“Fine, put it on my tab.” Vintage Uncle Morty. Never mind that a dear old friend got axed; who’s paying?

“No tabs.”

“The check’s in the mail then.”

“You know I can’t be handing out no more freebies. Got it?”

“Fine. What’d you find out?”

“Nothing. Well, close to nothing. The guy is a serious bore. He don’t gamble, drink, drug, or sleep around, and he’s a vegetarian.”

“I don’t do any of that stuff, except drink. Am I a bore?”

“You ain’t no vegetarian and you got Tommy for excitement.”

I didn’t know about excitement. Most of what Dad roped me into was grunt work he didn’t want to pay for. There was no point in bringing that up with Uncle Morty. He was squarely on Dad’s side in the free-lunch department, as long as he wasn’t serving.

“Yeah, it’s a thrill a minute in the Watts family,” I said. “I thought you had something.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. It ain’t much. He had a hundred buck charge from a company in Lincoln three months ago.”

“Who was the payee?”

“Wilson Novelties. Like I said, it ain’t much.”

“Did you come up with anything else on Sample?” Before he could answer, my cell phone rang. I told him to hang on while I checked the name. Ameche. Yes.

“Hello, Ameche,” I said.

“Mercy Watts?”

“None other. What’s up?”

“You remember me,” he said.

“Sure.” I never forgot people, but people always thought I would forget them for some reason. “So do you have something for me?” I asked.

“As a matter of fact, I do. There was a cell phone logged into evidence and better yet, a couple days ago it rang and pissed off Watts.”

“How do you know it pissed him off?”

“Afterward he cussed up a storm about not having a trace on the phone.”

“Excellent,” I said. “What about Sunday morning? Any interviews?”

“Just one was recorded. Lee Holtmeyer, the husband. That help you out?”

“More than you know.”

“You remember our deal, right?”

“Absolutely. I’ll tell Dad you did us a good turn and hand over your numbers. Thanks, Ameche.”

“Anytime. Well, maybe not any time, but you know where I am.” Ameche chuckled. “By the way, you look fabulous in jeans.”

“When did you see me in jeans?”

“I want to do Mercy dot com,” he said, laughing full out.

“Thanks, I so needed that,” I said.

“Anytime. I’m here for you.”

“I’ll remember that, jerkwad.”

I would remember too. Ameche came through for me (despite his attempts at levity). Lee was off the list. He couldn’t have killed Gavin. The connection between Sample and Gavin cemented. He knew her. I just had to figure out how.

Uncle Morty’s gruff voice brought me back to reality. “What was that about?”

“You heard?” I asked.

“I heard you pissed someone off,” Uncle Morty said.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Who?”

“Chuck.”

Uncle Morty made a flappy spitting noise with his lips.

“I know, I know, but this time there was a point. I found a connection between Gavin and Sample.”

“Oh yeah. What?”

“He called her cell the day she died.”

“Sweet. What else?”

I told him about the call to the church. He gave me some numbers and addresses of Sample’s friends and family.

Before he hung up on me, I said, “There’s one more thing. I’ve got a guy tailing me.”