In the Worst Way (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book 5)

by A W Hartoin

  “Fine. He likes me,” I said.

  Sort of.

  “I was not aware that Morty liked people,” said John.

  “He’s not aware of it either,” I said. “So where am I going?”

  “The Tudor Tower. Are you ready?”

  I shot him my own icy stare and gathered some unsullied clothes out of the closet hidden in the wall. “I’m ready.”

  Pick ran out of the bathroom, spun in a circle, kicking up feathers galore.

  “No. Not the dog,” said John.

  “He’s with me,” I said. Pick was many things, including an incorrigible barker. Considering my decreased security, I could use all the help I could get. Plus, I was not leaving the dog alone. If the last twenty-four hours had proved anything, bad things happened at Cairngorms Castle.

  Chapter Fifteen

  THE TUDOR TOWER lived up to its name. Every wall and ceiling was paneled in dark wood. The carved furniture was ornate and sturdy. I’d probably get a hernia if I tried to lift a chair. John took me through the small hall on the first floor. The walls were lined with portraits of Henry VIII between panels of The Lady and the Unicorn tapestries. I wanted to take a closer look at the reproductions. They weren’t from the Tudor period, but that hardly mattered when they were so beautiful.

  It would have to wait. We passed by and went up the narrow stairs to the fifth floor instead. It got darker with every step. The dim lighting couldn’t compete with the dark wood so it didn’t even try.

  “Where’s Morty’s room?” I asked.

  “Second floor.” John produced a large metal ring with keys of every size and shape. He removed a black iron key with a simple cross in the bow. The lock made a grinding clank that reminded me of the cell doors at Hunt Hospital for the Criminally Insane, not reassuring in the least. But the room wasn’t what I expected, no dark wood and minimal furniture. It was all cold stone arches and small windows. The bed was a single and looked comfortable enough, but there was a distinct unpleasantness about the room.

  “Whose room is this supposed to be?” I asked.

  “Anne Boleyn’s apartment in the Tower of London.”

  “That explains it.”

  “What?”

  “It feels like a punishment. I assume that’s what you were going for. What else have you got?”

  John stared into empty space. It was just he and I. Aaron and Tiny were packing up their stuff for the move to morbid and Pick was outside in the castle kennel, spraying away. “It’s the most secure room available.”

  “Pass.”

  “I have Lady Jane Grey’s cell.”

  “Why would you have that?” I asked.

  “The castle was designed this way,” he said.

  We left and went down to the fourth floor to another room that was much more pleasant, but resembled a dorm with several simple beds and plain walls.

  “Alright. Whose room is this?”

  “Catherine Howard. Lambeth Palace, her grandmother’s home.”

  “Of course it is,” I said. “Next.”

  We went across the hall to a sumptuous room. I loved the full tester bed with flowered fabric hangings, a beautiful wood ceiling, tapestries, and a big window. I was ready to move in. Until I thought about it.

  “You approve?” asked John.

  “It depends. Whose is it?”

  “Mary, Queen of Scots. Holyroodhouse.”

  “I’m sensing a theme.”

  “It wasn’t my idea.”

  “It was your idea to put me in this tower. Gee, I wonder why,” I said. “Could it have something to do with the blood and bullets out by the service entrance?”

  “It has to do with your dog destroying your last room.”

  “And that’s it? You don’t know anything about what happened out there in the woods.”

  “I don’t and I fail to see why you’re so interested since there’s no body,” he said, his voice flat as ever.

  “Maybe there is a body and I just haven’t found it yet.”

  John just gazed at me. I wasn’t going to find a body. He’d made sure of that. I’d never know what happened. Whatever John was, he was a professional at it.

  “Fine. Let’s save some time. What other rooms are in this tower?”

  “I have the Duke of Norfolk’s room.”

  “Finally, a man,” I said, all ready to go for it, but John almost looked pleased. It’s hard to describe how. There was the smallest pinch by the right eye. “Wait. Is this the Duke that Elizabeth executed?”

  “Naturally.”

  “Oh, come on. Haven’t you got any rooms of non-executed people?”

  “Anne of Cleves.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  We went down to the third floor and Anne’s room gave off no weird vibe. It was a Tudor bedroom with all the trappings but had a lightness to it with pale green hangings on the bed and wide leaded-glass windows. I heaved my armful of clothing onto the bed.

  “Excellent,” I said.

  “I had no idea that you’d be such a difficult guest.”

  “Nothing’s easy when it comes to me. I’m here because people are trying to kill me. That doesn’t happen to Miss Congeniality. Also, there’s been two murders in the past twelve hours.”

  “One murder.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh, right. One murder.”

  John didn’t react and I didn’t expect him to. He gave me a simple brass key with a green ribbon from his ring and said he’d put Tiny and Aaron in Catherine Howard’s dormitory room on the fourth floor. It wasn’t ideal but nothing that weekend was.

  An hour later, I’d showered hard and gotten dressed. By hard I mean I washed everything multiple times, including my brain. When I finished, the memory of Pick’s butt oil on the side of my face was completely gone.

  I texted Dr. Watts and said I’d be over soon. First, I had to hitch a ride. I had no clue where Phelong and Gerry were. The rain was coming down in sheets so I assumed they were in the castle somewhere. But they might be hiding from me and my yelling until the storm passed so they could escape, not that I blamed them. If they were hiding, I’d never find them. I’d be lucky to find my way outside. Tiny and Aaron could help, but they were showering upstairs. I plopped down on the bed and looked for nonexistent messages from Chuck. Mom had sent updates on Lester. He was holding steady for now. I asked her why Tiny got a gun and I didn’t. She texted back that she feared I’d shoot the cousins, so Tiny had that right. I wanted to know why they thought Tiny was up to dealing with the Costillas. Mom replied that Tiny was a sight more fit than me, considering that he was Special Ops in the Marines. He’d served in Iraq and Afghanistan and could kill people with his thumbs. Tiny didn’t seem much like a thumb killer, but I promised not to ditch him and went on to Uncle Morty’s texts. He’d sent me backgrounds on Leslie and John. I couldn’t have been more surprised. There was no bill attached and the backgrounds were detailed as well as complete crap. Almost nothing rang true. So frustrating, but everything that weekend was. The waiting didn’t help.

  I grabbed my purse and whipped open my door, jumping back a foot and nearly falling over. Tiny and Aaron filled the doorway.

  “Don’t do that,” I said.

  “Huh?”

  “You scared me, standing out there like vultures.” I squeezed between them and locked my door.

  “Sorry,” said Tiny. “I was gonna knock, but you beat me to it.”

  I jogged down the stairs. “It’s fine. Do you know where the cops are?”

  “Why?”

  “I need a ride to the funeral home.”

  “They might’ve left. You were pretty pissed and they were wet.”

  The hall at the foot of the stairs was still gloomy and getting worse. The ominous clouds kept getting darker and darker and that room needed sunshine in a huge way. Dimness wasn’t helping my sense of direction. I thought I’d recognize the door that I came in with John, but there were four doors and they were identical.

  “W
here are we going?” asked Tiny.

  “Kitchen,” said Aaron.

  “You’re going to the kitchen,” I said. “We’re going to the funeral home.”

  “I got to stick with you.”

  “That’s what Tiny’s for and you’re making dinner.”

  The little weirdo didn’t move. Okay. Whatever.

  “Which way to the office?”

  Tiny led the way and, at some point, Aaron peeled off, presumably to go to the kitchen. I felt a little bad about it. He’d been replaced, to some extent, by Tiny and most people would be stung by such a thing. But with Aaron it was hard to tell what he thought if anything at all.

  We found Phelong and Gerry holed up in reception. They were wrapped in blankets and holding steaming cups of tea. Their hands shook so much they sloshed tea all over their knees.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. “I expected you to high tail it home.”

  Phelong shrunk down into his blanket. That tea was mighty interesting. “You didn’t say we could leave and Dr. Watts is scarier than you. She’d get mad if we left.”

  “Is that why you’re shaking? You should’ve warmed up by now.”

  They glanced at each other and said nothing.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You’ll say we’re stupid,” said Phelong.

  “Likely. What happened?”

  “We got locked in the big walk-in fridge.”

  I rolled my eyes and asked the obvious, “What were you doing in the fridge?”

  The young cops shook their heads and shrugged.

  “I don’t know,” said Gerry.

  “We went looking for hot tea and then we were in there.” Phelong flushed at the absurdity of it.

  “That kind of thing happens around here. The safety latch didn’t work?”

  “Safety latch?”

  I rolled my eyes. “How’d you get out?”

  “One of the cooks found us, but he didn’t lock us in.”

  “No kidding.”

  Gerry became less abashed and actually got up the nerve to smile tentatively at me. “I did everything I was supposed to before the bad rain hit.”

  “Is that it?” I pointed to a plastic bin filled with evidence bags and Dr. Watts’ camera.

  “Yeah and guess what?”

  “I give up.”

  “I found her phone,” he said.

  “Cherie’s phone?”

  “Uh huh and it wasn’t broken or anything.”

  I went through the bags and found Cherie’s phone bagged up nicely with a cracked screen. “I thought you said it wasn’t broken?”

  “It still works.”

  “Good job, Gerry. Where’d you find it?”

  “Under a stone bench next to the rock garden.”

  I’d seen that bench. It was directly between the site of the first scene where she got her head bashed and the second where the strangling took place. I took the camera and scrolled through the pictures. Gerry’d done a good job documenting every inch of the place. Even my dad would’ve been pleased. There was hope for him yet.

  The bench pictures showed the phone next to the left leg of the bench, partially concealed by the leg and some irises that were beginning to sprout. There was a smear of blood on the back of the bench. The phone wasn’t really hidden. It looked to me like Cherie dropped it on her way to the second scene. Did she rest with her hand on the bench and drop the phone or did she hit the bench while being chased? I couldn’t tell, but both ways made me feel unbelievably sad for her. No one helped her. Somebody should’ve helped her. She must’ve cried out. Pick heard her. Why not anyone else? Why not me?

  “Miss Watts?” asked Gerry. “Did I do good?”

  “Very well indeed. I was just thinking. Are you two ready to take off?”

  “Where would we go?” asked Phelong. “I’m never gonna live that leaf thing down and Dr. Watts is going to kill me a lot.”

  “She’ll only kill you a little, I promise. Besides, I need a ride,” I said.

  They perked up. “To where?” asked Phelong. I suspect he was hoping I’d say to a burger joint or a bar. “To the funeral home. Dr. Watts wants me to look at something.”

  Their shoulders slumped. “Do we have to go?” asked Gerry.

  “You want me to drive your squad car?” I asked.

  They thought it over when Leslie came out of the office. We were to his left and he didn’t see us at first. Before I could call out to him, his stride faltered and he swept something away from his face like there was a spiderweb hanging in midair and then he continued walking.

  “Leslie,” I said and a micro-expression flitted across his features when he realized he’d been seen acting odd. The expression vanished and I saw no point in asking the obvious question. He wouldn’t acknowledge anything.

  “You’re trying to leave the grounds again?” he asked.

  “It’s necessary. Dr. Watts wants me over at Flincher’s.”

  Leslie ran his fingers through his silver hair and it fell back into place perfectly. “You must see…the body then?”

  I caught the hesitation and he saw me catching it. We stood there, eyeing each other and waiting for someone to say something. Tiny did the deed. “Are we going or not?”

  “You are,” said Leslie. “But Mercy will lay down in the back of the squad car and the car will be driven into Flincher’s garage so no one will see her.”

  “You’re letting me go?” I asked.

  “How would I win the bet otherwise? The last thing Phelong and Gerry want to do is go to Flincher’s. I’m counting your money already.”

  That was easy. Hm.

  “You’re not going to win, but I will try to be inconspicuous.”

  “Good.” He retrieved an enormous golfing umbrella from the office and gave it to Tiny. “You’re to protect her at all costs. Life and limb.”

  “That’s a bit overly dramatic,” I said.

  “No, it ain’t,” said Tiny. “It’s my job.”

  “You’ve got it?” asked Leslie.

  Tiny patted his waistband where there was the distinct outline of a gun. It did make me feel better although I’d rather have had it in my waistband.

  “We’re all set then.” I went to leave and Leslie caught up to me.

  “How far have you gotten with this?” he asked me. “Remember, we expect results.”

  “You’ll get results. Can I go now?”

  “What’ve you got so far?”

  I gave him a brief rundown, but it was too long. The Troublesome Trio came through the archway into reception, all smiles and dressed like they were going to a garden party, hats and all.

  “Finally!” exclaimed Bridget. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere. Is your phone not working?”

  Oh, it was working alright and I was working at ignoring it.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I turned it off when I took a shower. Where are you going?”

  “Wherever you’re going?” said Jilly. “I’m totally ready for this.”

  Leslie straightened his vest. “You’ve missed your hot yoga class, ladies. What are you ready for?”

  “To investigate,” said Sorcha. “It’s going to be awesome. Now we didn’t tell our parents about the extra activities this weekend. We’re going to surprise them when we solve it.”

  “You’re going to solve it?”

  Bridget put her hands on her hips. “We are Watts, you know? We can detect things.”

  “Of course,” said Leslie. “I was only surprised that you wanted to interrupt your bridal weekend.”

  “Well, this is part of it after all.”

  “Part of it? The murder is part of your weekend?”

  “Of course,” said Sorcha. “Mercy told me everything and we’re ready to go. What do you think of my hat? Is it too much?”

  I had no words. None. Sorcha’s hat was huge, a hat you’d see at a royal wedding.

  “Your hat’s nice,” said Tiny after we all just stood there and looked a
t the hat.

  “Good. Where are you going?”

  There was nothing for it, but to tell her and hope she wouldn’t want to go. “To the funeral home to view the body,” I said.

  “Oh my god. Really?” asked Jilly. “That is so detailed. I want to go.”

  What the hell?

  “Unfortunately, ladies, Mercy has other plans for you,” said Leslie.

  My mouth fell open and I had to think about shutting it. “I do? Oh yeah yeah. I do.”

  Plans. Plans. What plans? Oh my god. Think of something, you idiot. They can’t see the body. Mom will kill you.

  “Interviews!”

  My cousins jerked back. That came out louder than I expected. Then Sorcha rubbed her hands together. “Ooh, we get to interview the suspects. Yes!”

  Yeah. Interview away. I have no suspects. I don’t even have a motive.

  “Actually, I’m hoping you will find me a suspect. I’m fresh out,” I said.

  “Really?” asked Jilly. “This is like your thing.”

  “Well, you know, I’m not quite at my best. Stress or something. Can you three interview the staff?”

  “Absolutely,” said Bridget. “We’ll do it.”

  “What do we ask?” Sorcha picked some lint off her sleeve and then admired the crease.

  I gave them a few things to ask. It was pretty simple and it would keep them out of my way. Best of all, it had to be done.

  “Do you have a list of staff for them?” I asked Leslie.

  “I do. Right this way.” He led my cousins into the office. There was much flipping of hair and dimple popping. Leslie had it in spades. John did not. He came into the shadows of the far door and watched me leave. Something about him made me never want to return.

  Chapter Sixteen

  FLINCHER FUNERALS AND Crematoria sat on the edge of Lesterville, a quaint little town of less than 1000 people. The former mining town was now dedicated to tourism with plenty of canoeing and camping in the summer. Now, in the spring, it was dead quiet and even quieter where Flincher Funerals sat. As if the rest of the buildings sensed something amiss, they were built far away. There was plenty of good Main St. property available, but nobody was getting close to Flincher. And I could see why. The building wasn’t at all what I expected in a funeral home. There were no columns evoking the South or some bygone era. There were no flower beds or well-manicured anything. Flincher Funerals was in an industrial building with corrugated metal siding. The lime green paint had peeled off in spots and rust ringed the main door. It looked more like a place that people got killed in than a place for sending off loved ones.