by A W Hartoin
“I’m so not doing that and I don’t know why you’d ask me. You wanted Donatella cleared and I did that.”
His voice deepened. “I want them punished. All of them.”
I felt a little chill. “They will be, but not by you.”
“And if they aren’t convicted?”
Ah, there’s that slippery slope I’ve heard tell about.
“It’s a done deal,” I said. “Don’t worry.”
I could practically hear the smile on his lips. “I’ve given you incentive.”
“I didn’t need any. I always do my best.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Gotta go.”
“Mercy, I’ll owe you and no favor will be too big to ask.”
“Noted.”
I wasn’t sure if I felt good or bad about that. Keeping a favor from Oz in my hip pocket might be useful someday or it might be dangerous. As Aunt Miriam said, some things weren’t worth thinking about. I’d do whatever was necessary for the conviction. Besides, the Fibonaccis wouldn’t be deterred by something as trivial as what I wanted anyway.
Chapter Thirty
I LOOKED FOR the cat the next morning, but he was nowhere to be found. Mom didn’t want to talk about it and seemed to think his disappearance was to be expected. I didn’t expect it, but, then again, very few things happened that I expected. The plane I rode home in was one of those unexpected things. It was a cushy Cessna with leather seats and I was the only passenger. I sat curled up with my forehead propped up against the little oval window. St. Louis was having a snow storm, but we were cleared for landing. Normally, I would’ve been all tense and barfy in such weather, but I was oddly calm. Going home, never felt so bad. Crashing was the least of my worries. Everyone was mad at me. But, at least, my cat could be counted on to like me and to stay where he was supposed to. That was a comfort. Nothing else was. I wouldn’t find Pete snoozing on my sofa or special chocolates hidden in my apartment. Chuck had disappeared. Mom said Dad was talking to me, but he was just so darn busy at the moment that he couldn’t find the time. Yeah, right. Uncle Morty wasn’t answering his phone and neither were Aaron or Rodney. Usually, I could count on them for general cluelessness, but it looked like the alienation of their wizard was enough to put them off me. I’d been trying to get rid of Aaron for a long time. Now that he was gone, I felt empty and like I didn’t fit right in my own skin. Who was I without my people?
The captain came over the sound system and informed me that we’d land in ten and then taxi into the hanger. I slipped on my sweater and wondered how hard it would be to get a cab. Nobody would be picking me up. That was for sure. Normally, I’d head straight for my godmothers. Millicent and Myrtle were my comfort people. They were usually on my side, but I doubted this time would be like that. My godmothers loved Chuck. Hurting him wasn’t going to be looked on with a kind eye. So I would take a cab home, call my service and see how many hours I could work for the foreseeable future.
The wheels gently touched down and we taxied into the hanger so fast that I was shocked. The co-pilot, Matt, came out and opened the door. The ground crew extended the stairs and I gathered my stuff. The whole thing was embarrassing. All that effort for one person.
“All set, Miss Watts,” said Matt with a smile. “And he’s already here.”
“He?”
“Your father. I met him when he dropped off your mother and aunt.” He cocked his head to the side. “Are you okay?”
“Um…you’ve seen him? He’s out there?”
“Yes. He’s walking over right now.”
Oh my god. He’s going to yell about so many things. Killing that guy. Chuck. Wrecking Nana’s rug. Chuck.
There was a creak from the stairs and then Dad stuck his head in. “There you are. Let’s get a move on. We have to take off.”
I stared at him, looking for signs of the tongue lashing that I was due. “Who’s taking off?”
“Me.”
“Are you going somewhere?”
“Think, Mercy. I’m going to New Orleans.” He rubbed his hands together fiercely. “I’ve got some catfish to serve up.”
Already? Crap.
Dad backed down the stairs and I followed, holding my carry-on like a shield. At the foot of the stairs, Dad held the little carry-on that he used for business trips and his laptop bag. He was traveling light, even for him.
“Not staying long?” I asked.
“Long enough. We need to talk.”
Do we have to?
I picked at the lint on my sweater. “How pissed are you?”
“Pretty freaking pissed. I can’t believe he left you like that,” said Dad, his blue eyes icy.
“Huh? What?”
“Chuck. He left you there when he knew the Costillas were hunting Stevie.” He ran his fingers through his hair the way he did when he was trying to contain his emotions. It was really the only way I knew he had them, his voice was so clipped and business like.
“You’re mad at Chuck?”
“I’m not mad. I’m fucking furious.” Dad grabbed me and hugged me hard to his bony chest.
I’m in the clear. It’s a miracle!
“So you’re not mad at me?” I asked, all warm and filled with love.
Dad jerked me back and gave me a little shake. “Hell, yeah, I’m mad at you. You made him leave you there like a damn idiot. And now he’s gone off and potentially screwed himself. Thanks to you and your…kissing and whatnot.”
“There was no whatnot, Dad.”
He held up his hand. “I don’t want to know. Of course, I didn’t want to see that video either, but I thought you’d finally gotten a clue. I can see I was optimistic to the extreme.”
I rubbed my eyes. “I don’t get it. Who are you mad at?”
“Everybody!”
“I did solve the case. Donatella’s in the clear. Ameche, my people as you call him, is taken care of.”
“Well, that’s a redeeming factor,” he said grudgingly.
“And I cleared Christopher of the rape allegation.”
“I suppose that’s a good thing, although it was only an allegation.”
I smiled and hit Dad where it counted. “And you’re probably going to get credit for opening up the murder case against Farrell in his wife’s death.”
Dad stroked his chin. “Good publicity. Good for business. Alright. I suppose I won’t be disinheriting you this time.”
“That’s a relief,” I said with a sneer.
“It should be. This thing with Chuck is beyond the pale. Don’t you know how much I count on him?”
Matt brought me my suitcase and told Dad they’d be ready to take off after refueling. A bitter wind was whipping in through the open doors and we headed for the small passenger lounge. Once inside, I poured a cup of surprisingly good coffee before asking the question I was dreading. “So is Chuck not speaking to you either?”
“He’s not speaking to anyone.” Dad took my cup and glared at me.
“What do you mean? He has to speak to someone. What about his guys, Nazir and the other detectives?”
Dad shook his head. “So Mom didn’t tell you.”
I poured a second cup, so I could put off whatever was coming.
“Chuck’s gone UC.”
I overflowed the cup and burned my hand. Dad grabbed it, tossing it into the trashcan. Then he ran my hands under cool water in the sink and patted them dry with napkins. Dad can delay with the best of them.
“So,” I said, “he’s undercover. Where? Why? You never did it.”
Dad tossed the napkins. “I had your mother and then you.”
“And Chuck has nothing. Is that what you’re saying?”
“It’s done. He’s gone.”
“You don’t know where he is? You of all people,” I said.
“I don’t know. Narcotics operation is my best guess. He’s well versed.”
“How long?” I asked.
“As long as it takes.”
�
�Like a year.”
Dad shrugged. “Could be or longer.”
Oh my god. I’m going to be sick. Really sick. Like Exorcist sick.
Dad gently sat me in a chair and put the trash can between my knees. Matt came in, saw me, and did an about face.
“It’s my fault,” I said.
Dad gave me a tissue. “No point in speculating. They’ve been wanting him for a long time and he finally made the jump. We’ve got other fish to fry.”
I blew my nose and swallowed hard. “Like what? It’s all done.”
“I can’t do it, Mercy. I tried, but I can’t. There’s no solid connection between Blankenship and Andrew Marlin.”
“They can’t charge Andrew? He obviously orchestrated the Tulio shooting.”
“Oh, they’ll charge him and it’ll go to trial, but it’s all circumstantial. Why do you think I’m going to New Orleans? It’s over,” said Dad, sitting next to me.
Oz is going to freak.
“It can’t be. You’ll find something.”
“I’ve been doing this for longer than you’ve been alive. The cops aren’t going to find any hard core evidence and neither will the FBI. It just isn’t going to happen. You get a feel for this after a while.”
The Fibonacci don’t care about evidence.
I pushed away the trash can and crossed my arms and legs. “Why do I get the feeling that isn’t the end of it for me?”
He clapped me on the back. “That’s my girl. You have it. Damned if you don’t.”
“I’m not going to see Blankenship again. Forget it,” I said. “Never again.”
“Fine.” Dad pulled a rectangular gold box out of his pocket. “You can deliver this for me.”
“Bissinger’s lollypops? For who?”
Please say Shelley the guard, not a psycho inmate.
“Greta. I arrested her for murder when you were about ten. Anyway, I bring her treats from time to time, but since I’m going to—”
“Nope. Not going to do it. You’re just trying to suck me in.”
Dad put the box in my hands. “She lives for these treats. You have the time.”
“Do we really care if a murderer is happy?” I asked.
Dad’s face hardened and his eyes went all glittery. “I do. It wasn’t her fault.”
“You arrested the woman.”
“It was my job, not my choice. You owe me, Mercy. You owe Chuck.”
I groaned. “Dad, come on. I just killed someone that was attacking me. Can’t I get a pass for that?”
“Greta likes me. You don’t know how much that counts for.”
“You mean Blankenship likes me. It’s not about Greta. It’s about him.”
“It’s about twenty-six people at Tulio. I never lost sight of that. You shouldn’t either.”
“I’d like to lose sight of it in a huge way.”
“Later,” he said, handing me his car keys. “Do what you think is right, not what you think is easy.”
Groan.
He stood up, gathered his stuff, and walked out the door in his easy relaxed way, like he hadn’t just ordered his daughter to visit a mass murderer. Two of them most likely. I dashed after him and called out, “He’s not going to tell me anything.”
“We’ll see.” Dad boarded the plane, leaving me to decide what was right. I had no idea, except that it was never what I wanted to do, so I found Dad’s car in the parking lot and input the name of Hunt in the GPS. It would be a long drive in wicked weather for nothing. I was too tired and sad to be clever and Blankenship had nothing to do but rest and plot. Not a fair contest at all.
Shelley, the guard, was waiting for me at the visitor entrance. Apparently, there was no doubt I’d do as Dad asked and it irritated me.
“I thought I told you never to come back,” said Shelley.
“My father had other ideas,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’m here for Greta, whoever she is.”
A faded wispy brow went up. “Greta?”
I showed her my box of lollies. “I’ve got these.”
Shelley nodded like she doubted my story and brought me into the waiting area. I expected to see Blankenship’s parents there, shattered and desperate. There was plenty of shattered and desperate in that small room, but it was coming from the other Berrys. Ken and Stacy were sitting in the Blankenships’ spot as far from each other as possible. They wore their Rams paraphernalia, but it now was wrinkled and stained, and their faces were seriously pinched. It took a second before they looked up. Their eyes held no recognition. What a relief. I didn’t want to talk to them. Being in the same room was bad enough after what they put Donatella through.
“Harve,” said Shelley. “She’s ready.”
Harve wasn’t behind the glass this time. He sat in a chair next to the door, keeping a wary eye on the other Berrys. I guess he expected trouble between them and me.
Harve nodded at me, stood up, and clipped his key ring off his belt.
“Hey. Hey. Hey. Why’s this chick going in?” Ken grabbed me by the arm and I turned to look at him full in the face. Then he knew me and sweat beaded up on the bridge of his big nose. “Watts.”
“You remember me. How gratifying. Now let go.”
Ken dropped my arm. “They said nobody could go in.”
“I guess I’m nobody.” I turned back to Harve. “Ready when you are.”
“I’m always ready.” He laughed and started to unlock the door. But Stacy jumped in front of me and Harve put his hand on his baton.
“Please,” she said. “We didn’t do anything. We didn’t. You know that.”
“I know you’re scumbags. You set your own family up to be murdered and then tried to take Donatella’s kids right after her husband died. I know exactly who you are.”
“No, we didn’t. We thought she did it,” said Ken. “They’re talking about charging us with murder. Are you going to see him, that guy, that Blankenship?”
I sidestepped Stacy. “Harve, it’s been a long day. Can you maybe whack these nutbags?”
“My pleasure.” Harve slid his baton out of its holster.
Stacy clung to my sleeve, sobbing. “Please. He won’t see us. Get him to say he doesn’t know us. We didn’t do anything.”
“You’re out of your head, if you think I’ll help you,” I said, peeling her sticky hands off my sleeve.
“Please, Miss Watts,” said Ken, now crying himself. “He has to deny it. Our lawyer said so. Tell him we could go to the death chamber.”
“Yes, but he’d like that, wouldn’t he?” I looked at their stunned faces as they understood the truth of my words. Harve unlocked the door and I walked into the last place I wanted to be.
After another search, I followed Shelley through an unfamiliar part of Hunt. It was more relaxed somehow with few nurses about and guards sporting smiles.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“To see Greta,” said Shelley.
“Not in the fishbowl?”
She laughed. “No fishbowl for Greta. You can see her in her room.” Just then she stopped in front of a thick metal door with a single bar securing it. I wasn’t comforted.
“Um…you don’t have to do anything first?”
“Greta’s not violent.” Shelley knocked on the door. “Greta, you have a visitor.”
No answer.
“Do me a favor. Talk to her a little. Tommy would normally have been here a few days ago, and she’s having a bad time.”
“Define bad time,” I said.
“You’ll see. Your dad is her only visitor and he talks to her.”
I swallowed. “What do I say? What does she like to hear?”
“Honestly, I have no idea, but just talk. Tell her what you’ve been up to,” she said.
“I killed a guy yesterday,” I said.
“Maybe skip that.”
“Do you talk to her?”
“When I have the time. She’s a good listener and it perks her up.”
“I don’t
know about this. I’m just supposed to give her this box,” I said.
Shelley patted my shoulder. “Don’t be nervous. She won’t hurt you. She only hurts herself.” She lifted the heavy bar and started to heave the door open, but I put my hand on her forearm. “What did she do?”
“She killed her children. Cough syrup.”
A child killer. My day sucks.
“Why does my dad visit her?” I asked.
“Because she’s crazy. It was postpartum psychosis. Very severe, but they convicted her anyway.” Shelley’s voice went hard. “Your father blamed the husband.”
“And you?”
She nodded stiffly. “He’s walking free. I heard he has more kids now. Don’t mention that to her.”
“Don’t worry.”
Shelley pulled open the door and I stepped into a narrow room with white walls and no decoration. Greta was curled up in the corner on the metal framed bed that was bolted to the floor. She had faded blond hair streaked with grey. I couldn’t see her face because her arm was up over it like a shield. There was an IV line in her wrist and, from the look of it, she’d pulled it out many times. There were odd scars and nail marks all over her skin. She was terribly thin to the point of emaciation. I looked back at Shelley and she sighed before shutting me in Greta’s hell.
“Hi, Greta. I’m Mercy, Tommy’s daughter. I brought you your lollies.”
No reply, so I talked. At first, it was awkward, but then it smoothed out and became easy. I told her about Dad’s catfish bet with Cortier and how he was heading to New Orleans. Then I took a chance and told her why I’d been there. I told her about Abrielle and Colton. She peeked at me over her arm and I saw keen interest in her brown eyes, so I told her the whole tale, except the shooting a guy in the face part. I told her about Chuck and Pete and me. I told Greta, a woman who was certifiably insane, what I would never tell anyone else. The words just tumbled out of me until I had nothing left, leaving me feeling loose and light.
“I’m sorry,” I said, putting the little gold box next to her on the sheets. “I shouldn’t have told you all that.” I knocked on the door and I heard the bar being lifted.
“Tommy’s daughter,” said a hoarse voice and I turned back.