A Good Man Gone (Mercy Watts Mysteries) (25 page)

“Why did you stop delivering to her office?”

“I got a promotion.”

“You don’t seem surprised that I’m asking you about this.”

“I’m not. When I saw what happened to her on the news, I assumed I’d be questioned, although I thought it would be the cops doing it.”

“They’ll be around. You can count on it. Were you at the wedding?”

“No. Why would I be? We weren’t friends and I haven’t seen her since I was delivering to her work,” he said.

“Any idea who would want to hurt her?”

“No. If you don’t mind, I have to get back.”

We both stood up and his eyes shifted to the floor to the left of my feet. I should’ve shook his hand or something, but I couldn’t bring myself to touch him.

“Well, thanks for your time,” I said.

He nodded and we left the office. The girl at the counter banged on the credit card machine and Roberts went to help her. As I went out the door, I glanced over my shoulder and saw him looking at me. When he saw me his eyes went back to his work and I left.

I got in the 300 and sat for a moment. Roberts wasn’t in the clear, but I didn’t have a feeling one way or the other about him. He’d been straightforward with my questions. The eyes bugged me, but other than that he was a normal guy doing normal things. The more I thought about it, Roberts didn’t fit. The stalking started before he asked Sample out and continued after. I just didn’t see a psycho like that stopping his behavior long enough to politely ask her out and then starting it up again. Besides, I didn’t think I had to deal with Roberts. Chuck would be on him as soon as Helen called and I was happy to leave him to it. Now I had no excuse to avoid Lincoln, so I’d be getting my traveling shoes on.

Chapter Twenty

CATS ARE HARD to find normally. Trying to find a cat when you’re holding a travel carrier is near to impossible. My apartment didn’t help either. It had plenty of dark corners and crevices just big enough to hide a six-pound feline with nerves of spaghetti. Stale air and the smell of mold snaked around me as I searched. There wasn’t enough Febreze in the world to fix it. My building was built in the twenties and what it lacked in light and ventilation it made up for in character. At least that’s what I told myself. Crown molding is important. Damn it.

So I searched for Skanky in the semidarkness, packed, searched, and then searched again. After a can of Fancy Feast didn’t produce results, I started thinking that he’d gotten out. Panic had just set in when I heard a faint ‘yow’ in the bedroom closet. Skanky was hiding in an old shoe box in the back. He hadn’t cleaned his fur recently and looked freaked out. He always had an element of freak, but that day it was more than average. His yellow eyes darted around and his claws were extended for no reason. When I reached for him, he jumped out of the box and buried his claws into the deep carpet. It took ten minutes to pry him off. Then I gave him a good brushing and put him in his carrier. I was a bad mama, but my mama would have to make it up to him.

Skanky yowled and hissed when I put him into the 300. He’d been a desperately ill kitten when I rescued him and he never liked being in a vehicle. He always thought we were going to the vet or worse. Worse being a visit to the evil Siamese.

“Quiet,” I said. “We’re not going to the vet.”

Skanky went bat shit crazy at the word ‘vet’, banging his head against the door and flipping over to claw the top. All the while yowling like he was in the middle of an anal gland exam. It’s a good thing I didn’t mention the Siamese. He probably would’ve tried to bite himself to death.

He continued the insanity for the few minutes it took to get to my parents’ house. I did feel guilty, but enough was enough. After a couple of days with the Siamese, he’d be happy to see me. That is, if he survived. The Siamese weren’t partial to company, human or otherwise. They liked to tag team him when Mom’s back was turned.

“Sorry, boy. I don’t have time to find a kennel,” I said.

Skanky’s yowling went to a higher decibel as I spotted Pete’s car in the alley next to my truck. That couldn’t be a good thing. I didn’t think he would voluntarily see my parents without me unless something was seriously wrong with Dad. I parked and sprinted up the back walk, leaving Skanky yowling in my wake.

Mom and Pete sat at the kitchen with iced teas in hand. They were calm and looked at me with mild surprise.

“Hello, sweetie,” said Mom.

“Where’s Dad?” I said.

“Right here.” Dad sat on the window seat propped up with Mom’s sari pillows and covered to the chin with afghans.

“What happened? What’s Dad doing down here?”

“Nothing and we helped him down. He’s getting stir crazy. What’s wrong with you?” Mom looked at me with her perfectly sculpted eyebrows raised to points.

“Well, what are you doing here?” I looked at Pete feeling angry and stupid at the same time. Damn them for being so obtuse.

“Your mother asked me to come over and take out the IV,” Pete said.

“That’s it?”

“Something wrong with that?” Pete shrugged his shoulders and raised his palms at me.
“I could’ve done it,” I said.

“You were busy,” Mom said.

“Not that busy. So he’s better?”

“He’s sitting right here.” Dad glared at me, tried to raise an arm and gave up after a feeble attempt. I walked over, the fear draining out of me with every step. I touched his forehead and tucked the afghan in around him. He smiled. “You were worried.”

“I was not.” I sat down on the floor and lay my head on the seat cushion. “God, I’m tired.”

“Not too tired to go to Lincoln,” Dad said.

“What makes you think I’m going to Lincoln?”

“Your cat yowling in the car.”

Skanky’s yowls managed to get all the way through the yard, butler’s pantry, and into the kitchen. His voice was the biggest part of him.

“Go get that animal before the neighbors start complaining,” said Mom.

I tromped back to the car to get him. Skanky thanked me by peeing out the back of the carrier and narrowly missing my leg.

“I should’ve left you in the car, you ungrateful wretch.”

Hiss.

“Fine, let the Siamese eat you. See if I care.” I opened the cage and tossed him into the kitchen.

“Are you talking to that cat again?” Mom never called Skanky by his name. I wasn’t sure if she disliked the name or the cat.

“Yes. Unlike everyone else in this family, he listens.”

“If that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black. When was the last time you listened to me?” asked Mom.

 
I had to think. I was sure I had at some point, but I couldn’t narrow it down.

“See what I mean,” she said.

“Well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” Dad wavered on his seat, but looked better. His eyes had lost their hound dog look and the color was back in his face. “Have you packed?”

“Yes, I’ve packed.”

“You’re really going?” Pete looked at me with astonishment. He must’ve thought Dad was joking.

“I have to. Dad can’t and it needs to be done quickly.”

Dad nodded his approval and closed his eyes. Pete frowned, but, being sandwiched between my parents, he wasn’t in a position to make a fuss.

“I’ll be fine. It’s just fact-checking really,” I said.

“How long?” Pete said.

“Two days tops.”

“Better hit the road.” Dad was never one to put off the inevitable.

“I’ll go tomorrow. I have some things to take care off.”

“Like what?”

“I want to see The Girls for one thing. I still think something’s going on with them.” I looked at Pete. “Walk me out.”

We said our goodbyes and Pete was thanked and thanked again. For some reason, I felt like I was being reprimanded for my unavailability for the IV removal. Probably paranoia on my part, it wouldn’t be the first time. Parents.

“So how about I come over later?” Pete opened the car door for me and leaned against it in his lean, graceful way.

“I’d love it, but I won’t be there.”

“Why not?”

“I’ll be in Lincoln,” I said.

“You just said you’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Yeah, well, let’s just keep this between us.”

“Your parents should know,” he said.

“I don’t want them hassling me with advice and instructions.”

“Can’t somebody else do this?”

“Yeah, but I’m going to. Gavin was family. It’s our job. Since Dad’s not available, it falls to me.” I saw that he didn’t get it, but he bowed to my position anyway. Then he kissed me and opened the car door. I watched him in the rearview as he watched me drive away.

Chapter Twenty-One

I PARKED IN front of the Bled house and stood at the gate for a moment. A soft breeze swayed the branches of the gigantic oaks that lined the street, but nothing else moved. The house was dark and lifeless as before. The lawn hung over the edges of the flagstone walk and the house was beginning to look abandoned. I rang the gate bell multiple times and was ignored. Mom gave me the emergency key, but we’d rarely used it and never for an actual emergency. Was this an emergency? Maybe. Maybe not. But I had to know what was going on. I decided to take a walk, just a little snoop, around the perimeter. After that I wasn’t sure.

Leaves crunched under my feet as I walked through the overgrown lawn and peeked into the left conservatory. Everything was neat and tidy, but the absence of light bothered me. The Girls weren’t conservationists. They were known to leave TVs on for days, if not weeks, at a time. The darkness made me feel weird and itchy. Dad used to talk about that feeling over dinner. The crime scene feeling, sometimes it meant something, sometimes it didn’t. I was damn sure it did this time, but still I doubted The Girls were lying in a pool of blood in the living room. I needed to go in, but I didn’t really have the time.

I headed back towards the front when I heard, “Hello, Miss Watts.”

Caught in the act. At least I wasn’t climbing in a window, which I’d been known to do. I turned around to find Mrs. Haase smiling at me from behind her fence. Mrs. Haase was a big smiler. It doesn’t necessarily mean you’re in the clear.

“Hi. How are you?” I smiled, too. It didn’t mean much with me either.

“Very well, and you?”

Oh, great. Just standing in the azaleas.

“I’m good,” I said.

“The Girls left an hour ago, if you’re wondering.”

“Then they’re fine, thank goodness.”

“Worrying they’d been mutilated by a maniac, were you?”

“I was beginning to wonder.”

“You’re not the only one,” said Mrs. Haase.

“Really?” I asked, while treading on bluebells and callas on my way to the fence.

“Indeed. Ronald and I have become a bit concerned. They’ve been acting so odd.”

“What did they do?”

“They didn’t come to our church fete, the lights are always off, and Millicent won’t let me in, even though we had a lunch date on Monday. She didn’t remember to cancel or send a note. And there was this man at the door yesterday.” Mrs. Haase’s eyes opened wide with a look of suspicion and disdain. Who were these people coming onto Hawthorne Avenue? The nerve.

“Who was he?”

“I don’t know. He banged on the door and tromped around in the garden like you.”

Great, I had something in common with a weirdo harassing The Girls.

“The Girls weren’t home?”

“No, they were there and he knew it. He kept yelling that they couldn’t ignore him forever and for them to open the door,” she said.

“They never came to the door?”

“I don’t think so. He was quite angry and he drove away in a Ford.”

Ah, the final condemnation. He drove a domestic car.

“Do you know where The Girls went?”

“No, but a cab came for them. I haven’t seen Lester in weeks.”

Lester was The Girls’ driver. He was old as dirt and could barely see over the steering wheel. Dad had wanted them to retire poor old Lester for years and get someone who could see as well as drive. He’d never had any luck. Lester’s absence was the final straw.

“Have you seen anything else that bothered you?” I asked.

“No, but something’s wrong. I can feel it.” Mrs. Haase removed her gardening hat and touched her thick gray hair. I admired that mane of hers. It didn’t know the meaning of hat hair.

“They haven’t said anything?”

“Exactly. They won’t say a thing. Millicent looks embarrassed and Myrtle looks to have been crying.”

“When?” I asked.

“Every time I see her. Which isn’t often, might I add. You will do something, won’t you?”

“Dad’ll figure it out.” I tried to look unconcerned.

“Is he still under the weather? I’ve been meaning to call.”

“He’s better and he’d love to see you.”

Strictly speaking, that wasn’t true or untrue. Dad was pretty neutral on most people, but Mom loved visitors. For Mrs. Haase’s sake, I hoped Dad would still be in bed. If not, he might answer the door in the dreaded underwear. She’d never recover. I had several friends who still talk about my weird dad and I couldn’t even defend him. It was weird.