Down and Dirty (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book 9)

by A W Hartoin

  She nodded.

  “Stop,” he said, grabbing my arm when we got to the stairs. A steady stream of people were coming up, jostling us and doing their best to be collateral damage, but I had to do it. I shoved Peekaboo to the right and yelled, “Run.”

  She darted through the crowd, small and able to fit. He dragged me after and Mom smacked him on the head, woodpecker-style. “Let go. Let go.”

  He didn’t let go and he didn’t notice that we were noticed, such is the focus of crazy. We got around the stairs in time to see Peekaboo launch herself down the Monster slide. Safe. Thank you, God.

  “Alright, we’ll do that,” he said, pushing me through the crowd, elbowing people as Mom smacked the crap out of him. “Stop that or I’ll shoot her.”

  “He’s got a gun!” yelled a woman and the whole place went batshit crazy. People jumped over the railing to the stairs with a kid in their arms. A fast-thinking dad started grabbing people and shoving them down the slide against their will. The area cleared in three blinks, but the dad didn’t go down the slide. He booted the last kid down and put up his dukes. “Let’s go, fuckstick.” He didn’t look like the hero type, narrow shoulders, beer belly, and white tube socks in black tennis shoes, but his eyes said more than all that. He was ready to go.

  Babcock yanked me to him and shoved the pistol into my side. “I’ll shoot her.”

  The dad didn’t waver, but my mom did. She stopped smacking him and backed off.

  “Good. Now we’re leaving,” he said.

  “Not this way, you’re not,” said the dad.

  Babcock pointed the gun at him. “Move.”

  “No.”

  “What is wrong with you people?” He jiggled the weapon. “Gun.”

  Just then Fats came over the side of the fourth-floor stairs and leapt to a metal contraption bolted to the floor girder. She landed gracefully and while the metal groaned it didn’t give way.

  She leveled her weapon at him and said, “Hey, Babcock. I hear you’re impressed with weaponry. How do you like mine?”

  “Whoa, dude, that is not good for you,” said the dad. “That woman is going to kick your ass.”

  “You said it,” said Fats. “Go, Moe!”

  There was a rapid tapping on the floor and before I could think what it could possibly be, Moe the pocket dog skittered around the stairs and launched herself at Babcock’s crotch and snapped down. He screamed, but remarkably he didn’t let me go, waving the gun wildly.

  “Run, Mom!” I screamed.

  Babcock’s rifle fell to the floor and someone scrambled over to scoop it up. Babcock knocked Moe off and she went sliding across the floor as Fats crawled back over the railing to creep toward us. She snapped her fingers and Moe sat instead of charging back. Babcock swung his weapon between Fats and the dad, unable to decide who to shoot first.

  Then Jimmy Elbert stood up, shaking and ashen, to point Babcock’s own weapon at him. “Stop right there.”

  “Who the fuck are you?” asked Babcock.

  “Your worst nightmare,” said Jimmy in total seriousness despite the shaking.

  Babcock poked the pistol into my side again. “Do you know this guy?”

  This cannot be happening.

  “He’s my stalker,” I said. “What are you doing here, Jimmy?”

  “You’re here,” he said simply.

  Babcock jammed the pistol deeper into my side. “Tell him to back off.”

  “Back off, Jimmy, this is a Mission Hill Babcock. He will totally shoot you.”

  “I…I will totally shoot him.” Jimmy looked down at the rifle and I had every confidence that he’d never held a weapon before unless you counted phasers or blasters. Jimmy saw the lever and cranked it, ejecting the cartridge. It pinged off the window and we watched it roll across the floor to hit Jimmy’s shoe.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “You ejected the cartridge, dingus,” I said. “Please just run away.”

  “I’m not leaving you. I broke your window, but I’m not a douchebag.” He cranked the lever again and it ejected a second cartridge. “Dammit!”

  “And people think I’m an asshole,” said Babcock, raising the gun and aiming at the dad again as he edged over and tried to get the rifle away from Jimmy, who was not giving it up and managed to eject another round.

  “Give it to me, you idiot,” said the dad.

  “Let go,” said Jimmy. “I’m saving Mercy.”

  “You’re not saving shit.”

  The dad wrenched the rifle out of Jimmy’s hands and Babcock fired. The dad went down, screaming to his knees and clutching his shoulder. Jimmy used the rifle as a club, cracking Babcock upside the head, but the cowardly bastard kicked him out of the way and dragged me to the slide, using me as a shield.

  “Moe, now!” yelled Fats, running toward us.

  Moe attacked Babcock’s ankle, locking her little jaws on his leg and eliciting another scream.

  “Mercy,” yelled Fats. “Move.”

  “Okay!” I swung my cast over my head and cracked him in the jaw. Blinded with pain, I dragged him down with me. He was shoving and kicking me, but I had ahold of his shirt and held tight. I don’t know why I did that. Hello. Gun.

  Then he shoved me in the slide and Fats launched herself as us as we went down. She missed, her fingers just grazing my foot.

  My cast hit some of the colorful rollers overhead and I think I blacked out for a second because the next thing I knew we were shooting out the bottom of the slide on the first floor. The pistol and Moe went skittering off to the end and Babcock scrambled after it. He got his hand on the pistol, but a big foot slammed down on his wrist and the muzzle of a 9mm was pressed to his temple.

  “I will shoot you, Babcock,” said Chuck. His hand had a slight tremble, but his focus was absolute. He didn’t acknowledge Moe dashing back to snarl and nip at Babcock’s face

  Babcock struggled to avoid the bites, but she got an ear and didn’t let go. “Screw you,” he gasped.

  The muzzle pushed his head to the side and Chuck’s trigger finger pressed back, but another hand came around him and pulled Babcock’s weapon away. Sid put a hand on Chuck’s shoulder. “No need. You got him. Mercy, you alright?”

  “I’m okay,” I said, still focused on the 9mm. “I vote you don’t shoot him. He won’t suffer enough.”

  Chuck glanced at me and the spell was broken. He withdrew the gun, tore Moe off the ear, and Babcock lost it, screaming about police brutality and how the Watts clan had it out for the Babcocks, and this was war. You could barely hear him over the clapping and cheering. Several people yelled that Chuck should’ve shot him and a woman came over and spit in Babcock’s hair as Sid read him his rights.

  EMTs ran in, took a look at me, and then ran up the stairs to where the dad was howling and Peekaboo squeezed through the crowd and flung her arms around my neck, kissing my cheek. Mickey climbed over the small barrier and peeled her off me, pressing her to his chest like she was three. “Thank God. Thank God.”

  “Dad?”

  “Yes, baby.”

  Peekaboo pointed at Babcock, who was cuffed and now yelling at the crowd. “He called me a retard!”

  Now you can do a lot of things in this world that a lot of people are going to hate, but there are only a few things that you can do that everyone hates and that was one of them. People went at Babcock. He got smacked, kicked, and punched. Moms threw baggies of Cheerios and pacifiers. And Moms do not like to lose pacifiers. That’s a big deal.

  Some guy used his kid’s umbrella stroller as a mace. It was insane and I liked it. It took Sid and six officers to get Babcock out of the building. He came out with two black eyes, a broken nose, and two chipped teeth. I’m told that he stopped yelling about police brutality in the parking lot and started begging for their protection. And they protected him. Mostly.

  The crowd followed Babcock, leaving me and Chuck standing in the slide. Moe wiggled and wagged, licking his jaw, but he didn’t say
anything and I didn’t know what to say. Who were we? Together? Over?

  “Moe!” yelled Fats from upstairs. “Come here, girl!”

  Moe leapt out of Chuck’s arms and high-tailed it up the stairs.

  “Fats has a dog?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And her name is Moe?”

  “Yes.”

  We stared at each other for a minute. Then he took a breath, and I braced myself.

  “Why do you look like that?” he asked.

  “I’m getting ready.”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He stepped out of the slide and holstered his weapon. “I wanted to win.”

  “Huh?” I asked.

  “Our bet. I wanted to win.”

  I tried to step over the rim, but I was too wobbly and he caught me.

  “Let go,” I said, struggling.

  “I can’t,” he said.

  “Did you really want to win?” I asked.

  “More than I can say. I wanted to tell you, but you wouldn’t answer the phone.”

  He picked me up and walked around the slide to set me gently on the mosaic bench.

  “Is that why you’re here?”

  “No,” he said. “I came because you were right.”

  “About?”

  He took my face in his hands that were still trembling a little. “Everything.”

  Chuck did listen to Sid. After I left Sto-Vo-Kor, he called Julia and straight out asked her if she was into him. To her credit, she said she was. Once I had that in the bag, he rethought what I said about the Frightful Five having nothing to do with the shootings. He read the detailed statement that I gave Ameche and compared it to what they said and to Peyton and Austin’s confessions. One thing jumped out. They didn’t confess to vandalizing my truck, either smashing the back window or the big trashing. Julia didn’t press them on it and believed it was connected because I was investigating Catherine’s shooting, but she missed an important point. The Frightful Five didn’t know I was investigating it so Peyton and Austin certainly didn’t know.

  “And why would Peyton go and shoot Catherine?” I asked. “He didn’t know anything about the Midwest scam.”

  Chuck kissed me again. “Exactly, but Julia didn’t believe that. She thought they were lying. When I read what you said happened, it rang true. So I went back to Catherine’s shooting. I read what you told Ameche.”

  “Not much,” I said.

  “I know. So I called Catherine and I told her I was redoing Julia’s work and she told me what happened that day and I had it. Simple really.”

  I was pulling a blank. “How is it simple?”

  “Catherine remembered something you didn’t mention.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You went in the front of Catherine’s building, but when you left, you went out the back.” He smiled that blistering smile that made women forget their common sense.

  “I guess I did,” I said. “I totally forgot. Her apartment’s disgusting. Did she tell you that?”

  “That she didn’t mention,” he said.

  I rubbed my arm and Sid came back in, followed by a set of EMTs running for the elevator with a gurney. His suit reeked from all the blood and formula, but he didn’t seem to mind. “A second ambulance is coming. Fats has your Mom in First Aid and your dad’s there. She’s fine.”

  “Is he freaking?” I asked.

  “Nina talked him down.”

  “Who’s the other ambulance for?”

  Chuck squeezed me. “You.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “They’re going to have to check that arm,” said Sid. “People are saying you cracked Babcock with it.”

  Memories of it being set were still fresh. “I’m good.”

  One of the security guys called out to Sid, “Can the band leave?”

  “I doubt it. The streets are totally backed up.” Sid went over to him.

  “If I tell you how I figured it out, will you go to the hospital?” asked Chuck.

  “Puhlease. You can’t wait to tell me.”

  He couldn’t and it was simple. So simple. It pissed me off. Chuck knew the second that Catherine said I went out the back that she wasn’t the target at all. It was me all along.

  “She’s blonde,” I said. “Holy crap and she had her hood up because that guy threw urine on her.”

  “Right. And who would shoot you?”

  “I can name a few candidates,” I said.

  “But who have you pissed off lately, is batshit crazy, and hunts?”

  We looked at each other and said, “Babcocks.”

  “Which one is he?” I asked. “I’ve never seen him in my life.”

  “That would be Tobin Babcock. He just got bail on that meth house that you sent the Columbia cops to.”

  “I sent them?” I asked. “I don’t think so.”

  “After Beth attacked the clinic, you gave the cops the wrong address. They went to the abandoned house Tobin was using as a meth plant, smelled what was cooking, and now Tobin is cooked himself.”

  “That was an accident. Beth had that address in her file. How stupid is that?”

  “Babcocks don’t think things through and they really don’t care about intent,” said Chuck. “Here come your guys.”

  The EMTs, a couple guys I knew, took my pressure, despite my protests.

  “You promised to go,” said Chuck.

  “I really didn’t,” I said.

  “Mercy!” yelled Fats.

  I looked up the stairs and saw her holding Jimmy by the scruff of the neck. “What do you want to do with him?”

  “Nothing!”

  “I know who did it, Mercy,” cried Jimmy, struggling until Fats grabbed him by the neck.

  “We all know who did it,” I said.

  His face fell, but he held out his phone. “I have evidence.”

  “Of you breaking my window?”

  “Sorry. I was mad, but I made up for it.”

  “I guess so,” I said. “So what’s your evidence?”

  “I got that kid who bashed your truck. You can use it in court if you want to.”

  “Who is this guy?” asked Chuck.

  “My stalker,” I said. “Let him go, Fats.”

  Jimmy ran down the stairs and held out his phone. “I’m a fan and I helped up there. Where were you?” he asked Chuck.

  “Late.”

  “I wasn’t late and I got this,” said Jimmy, swelling with pride.

  I took the phone and saw a teenaged boy running away from my truck. Jimmy chased him and got him jumping into a Cadillac. He wore a hoodie and jeans with short brown hair and a considerable amount of acne. Joe and Patty Hove’s son, Jordan.

  “Ah crap,” I said.

  “Do you know this kid?” asked Chuck.

  “I do,” said Jimmy. “Mercy went there and talked to—”

  I took Jimmy’s hand and that shut him up like nobody’s business. “Can you give us a minute? I’m sure the news crews will want to interview you.”

  He blushed and stammered, “No, no. They’ll want you.”

  “I’m not giving interviews. You can speak for me.”

  “You mean, I’m your official spokesperson?”

  This could be bad, but what the hell.

  “Sure. Go out there and tell them what happened.”

  Jimmy dashed outside and I told Chuck about Catherine’s habits and Joe Hove. The son saw me at the office and then at their house the night his dad left his mom. He probably knew my name and overheard Catherine’s. He could easily have heard it through the office door.

  “I bet he threw the urine, too,” I said. “I shouldn’t have gone there.”

  “It’s not your fault,” said Chuck.

  “I could’ve been more discreet.”

  “Joe Hove could’ve kept it in his pants.”

  I shot him some icicles and he froze.

  “What about Julia?” I asked.


  “There’s no Julia,” he said, pulling me up and putting me on the stretcher. “There never was.”

  They strapped me in and I found I couldn’t meet his eyes. “You chose her over me.”

  “I did, but not for the reason you think. Julia had a bad time in Chicago and we go back a ways. I thought she deserved a second chance, but the department didn’t want her. Like Big Steve said she has baggage. So I called in some favors and vouched for her. I needed her to succeed. It was bad for me if she didn’t.”

  “And I wasn’t helping her.”

  “It felt like you weren’t helping me.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Because I didn’t tell you. It won’t happen again.”

  I looked up. “You really want to move in?”

  “I really want to marry you,” he said, his eyes twinkling but serious, too.

  “Let’s see how sharing a bathroom goes,” I said.

  “Deal.”

  “I’m back!” yelled Chuck.

  “Did you get everything?” I asked.

  “I did.”

  Skanky ran in the bedroom and leapt onto my bed and proceeded to trample all over my lap, happy to be home. My new cast was propped up on a pillow, ready for Peekaboo to redecorate when she came for a sleepover the next night. I was getting a new theme. Superheroes. Aaron wholeheartedly approved.

  “So I’m going to make your favorite food,” he said.

  “Chocolate?”

  “Not for dinner.” Chuck walked in and he had Li Shou on his shoulder like a pirate.

  “What are you doing with that bird?” I asked. “Olivia said she’d keep him.”

  “Check this out.” He pulled out his phone and started playing “Back in Black.”

  Li Shou’s wings snapped out and the little green nut started head banging.

  “This is the coolest bird.”

  “You can’t keep him,” I said. “He’s Millicent’s bird and he’s going home asap.”

  “Where’d she get him?”

  “We’re not getting a parrot.”

  “I’ll take that as a maybe.”

  “Like maybe I’ll kill you,” I said.

  “So you’ll think about it?”

  “I’ll think about killing you if you get a parrot.”