A Good Man Gone (Mercy Watts Mysteries)

by A W Hartoin

  Aaron was unmoved. Such is the power of Dad.

  I had one shot left and it had to be a good one. “If you do it, I promise to eat at whatever restaurant you want and eat whatever you want. Except crab. No crab.”

  Aaron smiled as someone padded around the other side of the curtain. They paced back and forth, stopped, and a camera peeked around the curtain edge and began clicking away.

  “You!” I yelled, pointing a finger at Nardo the paparazzo. “Get out!”

  “No way,” he said. “This is too good. ‘Sex Kitten Sidelined with Crushing Injury.’” He swept his hand up high and beamed at his imaginary headline.

  A transporter came in to take me to X-ray and pushed past Nardo. Aaron swallowed the rest of his Snickers whole, tossed me my phone, grabbed Nardo by the ear, and dragged him out the door.

  I had my doubts about Aaron’s abilities, but he had his moments. Maybe he would be able to tail Sendack successfully. He’d helped Dad out quite a few times, but it takes more than one car to properly tail a suspect no matter what they show on TV. Hopefully, Sendack would be unsuspecting and make it easy on Aaron.

  After an hour, my doctor came back and showed me my films. I had two fractures, but they were fixed and didn’t need to be set. I was flying on Demerol when my phone started rattling around on the side table.

  “Lo,” I said.

  “Mercy, why haven’t you called?” My mother, at her most irritated, sounded like the southern belle she was. Usually, Mom’s years in Missouri helped her hide her New Orleans beginnings.

  “Hey y’all.” I mimicked her with a nice slur from the drug.

  “Don’t you make fun of me, girl. I’ve been getting calls nonstop. They think I’m a man or I’m made up.”

  I giggled.

  “Mercy, I’m not laughing. I’ve been avoiding this since I was fourteen and now I have photographers following me to the grocery store,” said Mom. “What are you doing about this?”

  “Nothin’. I’m in the hospital.”

  “Oh, dear Lord. I knew we shouldn’t have sent you. Oh, my Lord.”

  “Like you had a choice. Calm down. I just fell and broke my wrist,” I said.

  “Did they catch him?”

  “Who?”

  “Whoever broke your wrist.”

  “I told you I fell.” Talking to my mother brought me out of my stupor and reminded me Aaron was on his own. I was worried about Aaron. How did that happen?

  “Alright then. Did you give them your insurance? You did bring your card with you, didn’t you?” Mom spoke faster and with a deeper accent the more worked up she got. Normally, I enjoyed a good fluster, but that time it made my head hurt. Painkillers didn’t agree with me. I didn’t like the separated-from-the-world feeling that others enjoyed so much, and Mom’s voice made me feel woozy.

  “Oh, please stop talking,” I said.

  “Sorry, honey. Let me talk to Aaron.”

  “Not here.”

  “What? He’s supposed to be watching you,” she said.

  “Please, do you really think Aaron can watch me, Mother?”

  “He’s better than nothing.”

  “You’d think so, but no,” I said.

  “Aaron’s a sweetheart and you best not have Fiked him. Do you understand me?”

  “Whatever and I didn’t Fike him. He’s following a suspect,” I said.

  “Who?” Mom sounded interested. I heard her take a drink and settle in for an explanation.

  “Bart Sendack. He’s the one Gavin was looking for.”

  “Did Gavin find him?”

  “I don’t know. His notebook is missing. Anyway, tell Dad it’s going well. How is he?”

  “Better. He’s sleeping,” Mom said.

  “Tell him hello for me. I’ve got to go. The doctor’s coming in.”

  Liar, liar, pants on fire.

  Mom hung up and I felt a twinge of guilt. I should’ve told her everything I found out — maybe Dad would be able to follow up on his end -- but there was a chance, a good chance Mom wouldn’t tell Dad. She might tell Chuck and then where would I be? I couldn’t stand the idea of Chuck using my work to his advantage. No, it was best to keep it to myself. I laid back on the adjustable bed and let sleep overtake me.

  When I woke up, Aaron stood over me like a vulture. A vulture that smelled like ham hocks.

  “You ate,” I said.

  “Just a little. There’s this great place on Taverna Avenue, and the stuff they can do with a pig. You hungry?”

  “You’re supposed to be watching Sendack. Can’t you...” I looked at my watch. “Can’t you concentrate for two hours?”

  “I got him. You hungry? I brought soup and a sandwich.” He waved a Styrofoam container under my nose.

  “No. I’m not hungry. What happened with Sendack?” I swallowed to get rid of the copious amounts of drool that threatened to spill over my lower lip.

  Aaron waved the box again. “You know you want it.”

  I snatched the box from his hands and scarfed down the best ham sandwich of my life. It’s a good thing I didn’t have an affinity for drugs because I’d have gotten huge.

  After I finished, Aaron handed me a piece of paper with Bart’s address. It smelled of pork and I wanted to eat it, but I needed the address. That kept it out of my mouth, but just barely. It was a good thing because the doc came in and I’d have hated to explain why I was eating paper. I might’ve ended up in the psych ward and deservedly so. As it was, he discharged me with a lovely purple cast and prescription for Vicodin. I’d have to take it for a couple of days and resigned myself to Aaron driving. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, but at least I’d have a good excuse if something happened.

  Actually, something had already happened to the car. It smelled like the inside of a roast pig and trash covered the floor. I don’t even want to talk about the steering wheel and keys. Aaron slid into the driver’s seat. Maybe the drugs were stronger than I thought, but it sounded like Kajagoogoo on the stereo.

  “I fixed your iPod,” he said. “You got it all now.”

  All of what?

  Aaron burnt rubber out of the parking lot and I pictured Dad’s face when he saw his expensive Italian tires. I’d never hear the end of it.

  Aaron finally slowed down when we pulled into a parking lot so bumpy it felt like a gravel road. Bart and his beloved Bitsy had moved into an apartment that wasn’t much better than the trailer park. Tiffany would be pleased to know her daughter wasn’t getting above herself. The faded paint had a faded seventies motif complete with a jazzy stripe around the middle of the building. I thanked God for letting me miss out on the seventies. But the apartment building that sat in the middle of a sea of cracked asphalt and weeds did have a pool. Glorified bathtub would’ve been more accurate.

  Aaron pointed out a window with a screen hanging half off and no curtains. Made sense. I doubted Bitsy or Bart cared much for the niceties of curtains.

  “Are you sure that’s it?” I asked Aaron.

  “That’s it. What now?”

  “I guess we call the client.”

  “We have a client?”

  “We have Gavin’s client. Doreen Sendack.”

  I called the Crab Shack and waited, listening to at least five waitresses yelling orders in the background as the owner went on about Doreen’s awesomeness. She worked every shift, and I felt a warm fuzzy come over me as I prepared to give her the news.

  “Yeah, what?” Doreen asked.

  Not exactly what I was expecting.

  “Doreen, this is Mercy Watts. We spoke the other day about your ex.”

  “Yeah. What is it now?” Doreen barked orders at someone named Fred. The background noise was deafening and I didn’t have her interest much less her attention.

  “I found him,” I said loudly. Screams erupted in the kitchen and they weren’t screams of joy. Somebody yelled for an extinguisher. I’d picked a bad time. It was a talent of mine that usually worked out for me.

  “
What’d you say?” asked Doreen.

  “I found Bart.”

  Doreen yelled for everyone to shut up and then said, “You sure?”

  “I’m sure. Want the details?”

  “Yeah, yeah I do.” She sounded misty and overwhelmed. That’s the stuff I was looking for.

  “He’s living with a girl named Bitsy Meyer at 3351F North Fredericksburg Road in Lincoln. They just moved in.”

  “Does it have a pool?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Bart needs a pool. Thinks it shows he’s classy,” she said.

  “This isn’t a classy pool.”

  Doreen laughed and I pictured her standing in the greasy Crab Shack kitchen smiling and looking a little less tired.

  “Bart never had a clue about real class,” said Doreen. “What do we do now?”

  “Call the cops and have him arrested,” I said.

  “Can you do that? I want my name off of it cause of my boys.”

  “I’ll take care of it and call you when he’s in custody.”

  “Thanks, Mercy. I never expected you to do anything. Nobody else ever did,” Doreen said.

  “Nice surprise, huh?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  We hung up, and I basked in the warmth of my own goodness for a few minutes until Aaron started asking about dinner. We had a deal and it was time for me to pay up. If I’d known what restaurant Aaron had in mind, I’d have had second thoughts about the whole thing. We picked up burgers and fries from some dive with the worst location I’d ever seen under a biker bar named Bloodsucker. The clientele looked like the cast from The Walking Dead, except not as clean or friendly. The burgers were delicious, so good I was afraid to think what might be in them. Aaron said he found something suspicious in his. I quick took a painkiller before he could tell me what it might be and fell asleep with a fry dangling out of my mouth.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  THE NEXT MORNING, Aaron woke me at seven with more takeout. We ate buttermilk pancakes and home fries while I mentally flogged myself for forgetting to report Bart. Then I remembered. Who would I report him to?

  I called home and Dixie answered the phone. I tripped over my own tongue until Mom got on the line.

  “Hi Mom,” I said with relief.

  “How’s your wrist, honey?”

  “Achy, but better. Does Dad know about the whole Marilyn internet thing?”

  Mom’s voice got hard. “No, he does not, and you aren’t going to tell him.”

  “No worries there.” I’d rather chew off my foot than tell Dad what I’d done.

  “Are you calling to tell me that you’ve fixed this situation?”

  “Not quite. I need to know if Dad has any contacts in Lincoln,” I said.

  “Why do you need to know that?”

  “Mom.”

  “Fine. I’ll get him.”

  After a couple of minutes, Dad came on the line with a round of coughing that sounded like someone was plunging a toilet.

  “Jesus, Dad. Have you called Pete?”

  “As a matter of fact, he was here this morning and I’m good,” he said, between coughs.

  “Right. You know I can call him.”

  “He says I need a chest x-ray.”

  “So when are you going in?” I asked.

  “Right after you solve the Lindbergh kidnapping.”

  “I’ll get right on that. Go in, Dad.”

  “Yeah, yeah. How’s Lincoln?”

  “I broke my wrist. Other than that I think we got a good line on Gavin.”

  “You need to be more careful.” Dad went into another fit of coughing that covered the sarcastic noises I made at that advice. Dad never got sick, but he got hurt on a regular basis. He’d had everything from broken bones to a light coma in the eighties.

  “Do you know anybody in Lincoln?” I asked.

  “No, why?”

  “I need a guy arrested,” I said.

  “Did he do anything?”

  “Of course. He’s the deadbeat dad. I found him.” I waited for congratulations. None were forthcoming.

  “Call the local precinct,” he said.

  “Yeah. I was going to, but then I realized they wouldn’t exactly rush on over to grab him up, would they?”

  “No, probably not. Let me see what I can do. I’ll call you back.”

  I took a nap and an hour later Dad called back with more than what I needed. He gave me a number of a retired cop with a kid on the force in Lincoln. Better than that, Dad told me Bart had been busy. He had several outstanding warrants in Nebraska. I called Dad’s contact, who arranged for me to meet his kid at a coffee shop in an hour. An hour wasn’t enough time to make me presentable in a way that might help, but I did the best I could. A nice scoop-neck tee and low-rise jeans would have to be enough.

  I opened the door and Nardo leaned on the balcony railing, grinning and chewing on a toothpick.

  “Where’re we going?” he asked.

  “Straight to hell,” I said. “You first.”

  “That’s not very original. I’d expect better from you.”

  “Bite me.” I walked past him with Aaron trailing behind me, humming the Star Trek theme song.

  “Come on. We can work together,” said Nardo.

  “No. We really can’t. We’re not the same species.”

  “Listen to this. I know I’m scum and you’re an artist or whatever, but this relationship can benefit us both.”

  “There’s no relationship, unless you count harassment and disgust,” I said.

  “It is a relationship, whether you like it or not.” Nardo ran in front of me and blocked the stairs. “I’m the talent. You’re the face. We’ll make millions.”

  “Get out of my way.” I forced my way past him and nearly pushed him down the stairs. I jogged to the car, ignoring the honks from the road.

  Nardo yelled out behind me. “If you won’t work with me, maybe your mom will.”

  I got in the car, closed my eyes, and swallowed. I wouldn’t think about it. It was too horrible to be contemplated.

  Nardo pounded on my window and yelled through the glass. “My partner says the camera loves her.”

  “Leave my mother alone,” I yelled back.

  “Yep, she looks great, as good as you, and he has all the time in the world.”

  Aaron got in the passenger side and I rolled down the window an inch. “Call him off.”

  “Then we’ll talk,” said Nardo.

  “Fine, just get away from me,” I said.

  Nardo stepped back, saluted me, and smiled.

  I looked at Aaron and asked, “Well?”

  “What?”

  “Aren’t you going to say something?”

  “About what?”

  “Never mind,” I said.

  Aaron drove us to the coffee shop, whining about his need for a snack. I shut him up with a promise of carrot cake and fluffed my hair. As it turned out, I needn’t have bothered. Nic Serena didn’t need convincing. She sat down across from me without introduction or hesitation. She was a surprise and an interesting one. Nic Serena had to get as many second and third looks as I did, although we couldn’t have been more different. She had dark blond hair that looked natural, café au lait skin, a broad nose, wide shapely lips, almond-shaped eyes, and a body that looked like a bag of hangers. She was all angles and edges with cheekbones that could’ve sliced meat.

  “Mercy Watts. Nic Serena. Why am I here?”

  “To do me a favor, I hope,” I said.

  “You need somebody arrested?”

  “Yeah, a deadbeat dad with some warrants for check kiting and larceny.”

  “Sounds like a minor character. What’s the deal?”

  “I don’t know what you’ve been told, but a family friend was murdered last week.”

  “So?”

  “I think he found something out accidentally about an old client while he was here. He started calling her while he drove back and she was murdered right after he g
ot through and then he was. I need to know whether Sendack saw Gavin and what happened.”

  “Any connection between the dead client and Sendack?”

  “Not that I know of,” I said as I pulled on a sweater. I felt obvious and stupid in my scoop neck next to Serena in her sleek black suit. I guessed she didn’t use sex to get answers. She probably scared guys into talking. She scared me.

  “You don’t know if he located Sendack?”

  “Gavin’s notes are missing along with the client’s file, but he probably did. I did,” I said.

  “Not difficult?”

  “Just legwork. So what do you say?”

  “I’ll pick him up and do the questioning,” she said.

  “Why can’t I talk to him?”

  “Because I’m a cop and you’re not. There’s nothing you can get out of him that I can’t.” She looked at me waiting for further protests. I couldn’t think of any, but I felt slighted just the same. I’d gotten plenty of guys to say plenty of stuff.

  “So how about giving me that address and Sendack’s particulars?” asked Serena.

  I gave her everything I had on Bart and she left promising to call when she had him. As she walked out, heads turned and I was quickly aware that we’d been watched for our whole conversation. I’d been so busy looking at Serena I hadn’t noticed being noticed. It was a new sensation and it felt good to have been anonymous, even if it was in my own mind.

  I spent the early afternoon on my rock-hard motel bed with a pillow over my head. Aaron waxed on about Dungeons and Dragons strategy, oblivious to the pillow and my occasional snoring. The painkillers were doing a number on me even though I was down to a half dose. Serena hadn’t called back yet and I started to question whether she would. The less I had to do, the more I thought about Gavin and Dixie. My wrist hurt more than I would admit, and I wanted to be home in the cocoon of The Oasis with my mother making it all better.

  Serena called at three and asked me to come down. Nardo followed us to the station at a discreet distance, but didn’t come inside thankfully. Aaron dumped me at Serena’s desk and disappeared.

  “Where’d your little guy go?” Serena asked when she showed fifteen minutes later.