Small Time Crime (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book 10)

by A W Hartoin

  “Oh, come on!” I exclaimed.

  Clarence appeared in the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing!” I yelled over the music in my head.

  “Why are you yelling?”

  “Am I?” I tried to lower my voice, but that’s pretty damn hard with John Brown’s freaking body a-mouldering in your flipping head. “My ears have water in them.”

  Clarence set a mug on my tray and said something I couldn’t make out. Then she went over to the vanity and started rifling through the toiletries. The music got steadily louder. I had to get out of that house. But where could I go in the middle of a blizzard? Tank’s house? Maybe he hadn’t left yet.

  I picked up my phone and the music vanished so suddenly I jerked and made a big splash over the side of the tub. “Oh!”

  Clarence spun around. “Mercy? Oh, my goodness.” She covered her eyes and I looked down. I was up and out of the protective bubbles in all my glory. Mom better never find out I flashed a nun and I didn’t even want to think about Aunt Miriam. “I’m sorry. My…um…ears cleared.” I sank down. “You can look.”

  “I’m so sorry, Mercy. I didn’t mean to. Oh, my goodness.”

  “It’s fine. We all have them,” I said.

  The fiery flush cleared her cherub cheeks and she said sweetly, “I don’t think that’s quite accurate.”

  “Well, you know what I mean. Breasts are”—in my peripheral vision I could see Maggie’s things going into another tower—“holy crap.”

  “Men think so, I believe,” said Clarence, walking toward me with a box of Q-tips.

  “No!”

  “What? What’s happening?”

  “Stay there.”

  Clarence started panicking. “What’s wrong? What happened? What did I do? I didn’t mean to see.”

  “I…uh…had an idea. I have to think about the idea that I had. Don’t move.”

  Maggie’s clothing was hovering as if someone was inside of them again. If I hadn’t seen our cat, Blackie, not to mention what happened out at the lake with Janet Lee Fine, I would’ve had my own cardiac event. It’s not the kind of thing that gets better the second time around. Clarence couldn’t see that. She thought breasts were “Oh, my goodness.”

  Think of something. Think of something.

  “I’m going to get out of the tub.” I’d get everything back in the box and stash them in another room. There we go. “Close your eyes or I’ll scar you for life.”

  Clarence covered her eyes. “Is your idea good? Is there a new clue?”

  “Yes, actually there is.” I set my phone on the tray and new music blared.

  “Mine eyes hath seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.”

  The Battle Hymn of the Republic? What the hell?

  I stood up and started to step out as the music got louder, but then I got an idea. I reached for my phone and the music got softer. I pulled my hand back and it got louder.

  Very subtle, Elizabeth.

  A burst of laughter echoed through my head and I picked up my phone before sitting down. The music shut off in the middle of “Hallelujah,” and a wave of water went over the side of my tub again.

  “Are you out?” Clarence asked.

  “I’m in and there’s just enough bubbles.”

  She lowered her hand tentatively and said, “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m beginning to,” I said. “I’m supposed to call someone.”

  “Who?”

  Mom? Dad? Pete?

  “I don’t know.”

  Clarence perched on the vanity’s tufted stool and asked, “Can I help?”

  “Maybe,” I said.

  “The hospital to check on your uncle?”

  “No, Pete will call.”

  My phone went off with Mom’s theme and I quickly answered, “Hi. How is he?”

  “He’s still fine,” said Dad. “Pete called. I said I’d call you. I’m starting to like that guy.”

  That’s too little too late.

  “Do tell?” I asked.

  “He’s not half bad. Morty’s out of the cath lab and he’s got a blockage, but he’s stable, so they’re going to wait and see how his numbers look tomorrow.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I said, leaning back and sinking into my lukewarm water. “Are you and Mom okay?”

  “We are. Did you call your guy?” Dad asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “What are you waiting for? A sign from God?”

  I glanced over at the hovering nun’s outfit and said, “I think I already got one, sort of.”

  “Well, then get on it.” Dad railed at me over lollygagging and then hung up so he could have dinner with my mother, who’d had a good cry and was now trying to figure out if it was possible to charter a helicopter to get them back in the morning, since every highway in the state was blocked. So much for the not panicking.

  “Was it bad?” Clarence asked.

  “It’s fine. I mean, as fine as a heart attack gets. They’ll probably have to do a stent or a balloon angioplasty, but those are pretty routine.”

  “But there’s no one there with him.”

  “Chuck will be there eventually and my old boyfriend, Pete, will watch over him,” I said.

  “That’s not the same as family,” said Clarence.

  I smiled at her. “No, it’s not. Nothing’s like family.”

  “What will you do now?”

  “I’m going to wash my hair and call my super snoop,” I said.

  “Your what?”

  “I have a hacker that’s pretty fantastic at finding things out.”

  Did you hear that, Elizabeth? I’ll call him.

  She must’ve heard because I set down my phone and nothing happened. So I dunked my head and, when I came up, Clarence was heading for the door. “No!”

  She jumped and slipped on the wet floor, falling with a thump on her rear. “Ouch!”

  “Oh, Clarence. I’m sorry. I just…”

  Happy now?

  Maggie’s belongings tumbled back into her box while Clarence slipped around, trying to get to her feet. Fats dashed in and yanked her upright. “What happened in here?”

  “Nothing,” said Clarence. “I slipped.”

  I gave Fats the something-freaking-happened look and she took Clarence out of the bathroom, saying she needed to change her wet skirt. They went back and forth about I don’t know what while I washed my hair and didn’t bother to condition. I’d pay for that.

  As soon as I stepped out of the tub the music started again.

  “Twas in the merry month of May when green buds all were swelling.”

  It was soft this time, a little reminder that Elizabeth hadn’t forgotten. I dried off and wrapped the towel around me before picking up the phone. The music stopped just when the story was getting good. I was tempted to set it down to see if Sweet William died, but I didn’t for fear that the Battle Hymn would come back blaring.

  In the bedroom, Fats had Clarence changed and was shooing her out of the door.

  “There’s nothing I can do?” Clarence asked.

  I smiled reassuringly at her. “Can you check on dinner? I’m starving.”

  The little nun grinned and said she would.

  Fats closed the door and said, “Alright. Let’s have it.”

  “Go have a shower. You’re dripping.”

  “I worked out. You should try it.”

  “Pass,” I said. “The way you look right now is not a good advertisement.”

  Fats popped a toothpick out on her lip. She must store them in her cheek like a giant hamster. “So?”

  I folded the top of Maggie’s box together and put it in the enormous Victorian wardrobe. “So I have to call Spidermonkey.”

  “That’s it? You skipped conditioner for that?” Fats never skipped conditioner or manicures or shaving her legs. I, on the other hand, was hairy with snarled hair and chipped nails.

  “I may have had a little trouble with Elizabeth,” I said.
/>
  She gave me the stink eye. “Define trouble.”

  “She spoke to me.”

  Fats threw up her hands. “You have to follow the rules. What did you do?”

  “I don’t know. Nobody told me the rules, except don’t be interesting.”

  “Well, you can’t do that,” she said.

  “I know.”

  Something rustled in the wardrobe and we both turned our heads to look, slowly like you see people do in movies.

  “Do you know what that is?” Fats asked.

  “Probably,” I said.

  “Do I want to know?”

  “Hard to say.”

  “Have you had your own coronary event?” she asked.

  “Two or three.”

  Fats chewed on her toothpick and said, “I say we leave it.”

  “Good call.” I opened my duffle and pulled out some leggings my mom had secretly tried to throw out because the knees were all baggy. “Are you going to turn your back?” I asked.

  “I’m going to take a shower.”

  “Well, go ahead.”

  “What’s going to happen?” Fats asked.

  “Beats me. Probably nothing.”

  “I don’t like surprises.”

  Bummer. ‘Cause Elizabeth does.

  “I’m right there with you.”

  “I’m going in,” said Fats, but she didn’t move.

  “Go for it.”

  Still no movement.

  “Are you, Fats Licata, afraid?” I asked.

  “I’m prudent. I don’t want to bring a knife to a gun fight,” she said.

  “There’s no weaponry.”

  “No?”

  “Music and some other stuff, but no weapons.”

  “All right then.” Fats went in the bathroom and shut the door. Fear vanquished. I wish I had that easy of a time coping with fear. My heart was still pounding and my cortisol levels had to be through the roof.

  The shower started running and I got dressed quickly as the wardrobe doors rattled. “I’m hurrying. Give me a break.”

  “No,” said the voice.

  “Awesome. That’s swell.”

  Nothing. I’d say that was good, but the Battle Hymn started up so it really wasn’t.

  I have to get out of here.

  “No,” said the voice.

  “I don’t like you,” I said.

  “I know.”

  I sat on my little twin bed and tried to unsnarl my hair while calling Spidermonkey. The second the phone began ringing the music and the wardrobe rattling stopped.

  “Mercy?” Spidermonkey asked. “Thank God it’s you.”

  “Really?”

  “Hold on,” said my hacker. “I have to take this.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  What was going on was Spidermonkey and Loretta were trapped in South Carolina on Sullivan’s Island during a tropical storm. It wasn’t bad enough to leave, but no fun to stay. Think twenty-four hours a day with family for a week with nothing to do but board games and Netflix. Spidermonkey loved his family, but he was this close to crazy. There were babies. A lot of babies and they all had great lungs.

  “I do love them,” he said.

  “I believe you.”

  “Help me.”

  “I don’t think I can actually get you out of there,” I said.

  “You can give me something to do,” he said. “You’re the only one Loretta will allow. I’ve been praying you’d call.”

  “I have got something for you, but I didn’t want to interrupt.”

  “I’d pay you to interrupt. Another baby’s crying. I don’t remember our babies crying like that.”

  “Were you really around that much?” I asked, thinking of my dad.

  “I guess not. What have you got? Oh, wait. Hold on,” said Spidermonkey.

  “Mercy, it’s Loretta. Tell me you need us and we have to leave.”

  A laugh bubbled up out of my incredibly tight chest and I let it loose. The wardrobe wasn’t so scary anymore. Neither was the music or the voice. It could be worse. Loretta’s voice assured me of that.

  “You, too? Aren’t you Mom? Mom’s love this family stuff,” I said after I stopped laughing.

  “My daughters-in-law are fighting about vaccines again and they’re on the same side.”

  “Anti-vaxxers?”

  “Yes. It’s insane. Dillon is fifteen. He isn’t going to get autism.”

  “I’m with you,” I said.

  The clinic had dealt with their share of anti-vaxxers and it was nuts. I’ve never seen so much fear about the wrong things. Measles kills people. It does. Fact.

  Loretta harrumphed and said, “They were vaccinated and they’re fine. What the crap?”

  “I don’t know. It’s a thing right now.”

  “Maybe you can talk to them.”

  Not just no, but hell no.

  “I’ll just tell them they’re crazy and should vaccinate their spawn.”

  Loretta started laughing and told Spidermonkey about the spawn.

  “Thank you. I needed that. Now what can we do for you?” asked Loretta.

  “Are you sure? It’s dark,” I said.

  “Isn’t it all?”

  She wasn’t wrong, but Maggie’s death was worse. I could feel the horror in my skin, a sort of an unhappiness shroud of worry and dread. This wasn’t a small time crime and I couldn’t imagine how anyone, even a drunk, would say that.

  “This is different.”

  “If it’s about a child, then I can’t hear this,” said Loretta.

  “No child victims.”

  “And it’s not to do with The Klinefeld Group?”

  “No, but I have something new about Stella,” I said.

  Spidermonkey took the phone, sounding grumpy. “I’ve been waiting for you to contact me about that.”

  “You told me not to.”

  “The landscape is different.”

  “You mean rainy.”

  “And angry. The girls are talking about peanut allergies now,” said Spidermonkey.

  “Does someone have one?” I asked.

  “No, but it sounds like they want one of the kids to have it so they can be in the in-crowd.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you.”

  “This is your generation.”

  “Do not lump me in with anti-vaxxers. That’s a low blow,” I said. “I’m vaccinated and if I were to spawn, my kid would be, too.”

  Spidermonkey’s soft South Carolina accent began to purr and soothe. “I know you’re reasonable, even when you’re not being reasonable.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “It means I don’t understand you and the risks you take,” he said. “Okay. I’ve locked the door and my laptops are ready. Let’s start with why you aren’t using Morty for this.”

  “He had a heart attack.”

  And the typing began. With a vengeance.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “I’VE GOT HIM,” said Spidermonkey.

  “Who? What?” I asked.

  “Morty. ICU. Got him.”

  I should’ve known he’d go straight into the hospital and grab up Morty’s chart, but it startled me anyway. My mind was on Maggie and the dread of telling the two of them her story was weighing on me, especially with Elizabeth sharing her opinion if I took a wrong turn.

  “Okay. Great,” I said.

  “What do you want? I’ve got results.”

  “Lay ‘em on me.”

  Spidermonkey gave me all of Uncle Morty’s numbers, so fast I could hardly absorb them. He had damage, but it was recoverable. That much I understood.

  “Anything else?” Spidermonkey asked.

  “No. That’s good. Thank you.”

  “He’s okay, isn’t he?” That soft voice nearly brought me to tears again. He cared. Uncle Morty considered Spidermonkey a mortal enemy. Competition was not acceptable. Period. But even with that, he cared.

  “I think so, but he’ll
have to change,” I said.

  “That’s a tall order for Morty.”

  “You said it.”

  “Now let’s talk about this case, you obviously didn’t go to Greece.”

  “I wish.” I gave him the lowdown on what happened, leaving nothing out, and listened, as I spoke, to the comforting sound of keys being struck and information being gathered.

  “What do you want first?” Loretta asked. They were on speaker, but I could barely hear her over the rain. We were all in storms of various types.

  “First. Hm. Let me think. Let’s go with Bertram Stott.”

  “Got it. Anything specific?”

  “I want to know his connection to the area and if he was here in 1965. If you can see what he was up to after his release that would be helpful.”

  “You’re thinking other crimes.”

  “I doubt he was reformed in the prison system, especially back then,” I said.

  “Agreed. You’re thinking what? Other murders? Rape? Stalking?”

  “All of the above, but I think he learned from his conviction and got better. The best you’ll probably find is his name on interview lists, suspicions but nothing concrete. If you find a living cop who liked him for something, I can have my dad make a call.”

  “Hold on,” said Loretta. “Tommy’s on board?”

  So I did leave something out, but I did it on instinct. Hiding what I was up to went right to the bone. “Yeah. He knows I have someone for research besides Uncle Morty. He told me to call you.”

  “I’m surprised. Tommy’s all about the family from what I’m told.”

  “He is, but the family usually means him.”

  “That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” Loretta asked.

  “But accurate. He’s working on it and he’ll talk to whoever we need info from,” I said.

  “Well, that’s unexpected,” said Spidermonkey. “Tommy is a great resource. There’s only so much I can get from the internet and it’s not like you can hop over to Tennessee to charm them.”

  “Not this week,” I said with a laugh.

  “So about the church, you said Morty cleared them on the pedo stuff. I want my beloved to recheck. Is that a problem?” Loretta asked.