Diver Down (Mercy Watts Mysteries) (37 page)

“I never thought you were interested in crime,” I said.
 

“Gavin being out there scared me. I hated it, but now he’s gone. It will be a kind of memorial.” Dixie ordered another drink.
 

I’d rarely heard such a bad idea. Dixie wasn’t ready for the stuff Gavin had in his files. He’d seen the worst humanity had to offer. I’d filed for him during high school and college for extra money. Every once in a while I took a peek and immediately wished I hadn’t. Some things were better left to the professionals.
 

“Are you sure about this?”
 

“I can handle it. Carolina’s going to come over and we’ll pick a case together. No child molestation cases.” She took a big drink. “That’s rule number one.”
 

I could think of another twenty rules, starting with no looking in Gavin’s case files. Aaron brought me a double cheeseburger and ran back to the kitchen. I ate slowly, savoring every flavor he put in there, since none of them were crab, and thought about Dixie. It was a new start. Maybe that was what Mom was going on about. Dixie being different. But it’d only been two months since Gavin had been murdered. I knew from experience that you can make new starts. You can make them over and over again. You can change your hair, your clothes, practically everything about you, except that one thing that can never be changed. A person is gone and the person you would’ve been, had they stayed, is gone, too. My person was David, son of Dad’s partner, Cora, and my first boyfriend. He disappeared when I was sixteen and a man was sitting in prison for killing him, although his body had never been found. I knew David was dead. He had to be, but I still missed him and the life he was supposed to have. Nothing changed that. Nothing I’d found anyway.
 

I leaned back against the deck railing and watched the laughing tourists. Lucia and Graeme got up to dance. He appeared to be entirely recovered and Lucia, although slightly gimpy, danced happily. Her long dark hair swayed behind her back. Her cheeks were rosy and I could see her brother, Oz, in her. The thought of him made me smile. Dad would’ve been quite displeased at the sight. We were going home the day after tomorrow. I would buy a new phone and I would tell Oz his sister wasn’t being abused. There was a lot of satisfaction in that, even if he was a Fibonacci.
 

The next morning I slept in and celebrated not having cops banging on my door by taking out the two stitches in my forehead. Dr. Navarro had done a good job and the scar would be minimal. I decided it would give me character, and then used Aunt Tenne’s phone to check on Andrew. He was resting comfortably, but they had to do surgery to extract multiple metal shards from his hand from the screw removal. Several bones were broken in his hand and ribcage. He also had a bad infection. Luckily, their last medication shipment included IV antibiotics. Navarro said Andrew wouldn’t be released for several days. Then I remembered to call Pete and managed to catch him between patients. I told him about my phone’s death and he told me about the flesh-eating virus he got to check out. He didn’t hold anything back, but I did. The Lucia situation would be better told when it was all over.
 

After eating a fantastic breakfast, I watched Mom take over Bruno’s life by supervising the packing of all his paintings. I expected him to be angry or at least withdrawn, but he stood in a corner chatting with Aunt Tenne and the Carrows, acting like the whole process had nothing to do with him.
 

One painting wasn’t packed. It stood on an easel off to the side, still shiny with wet oils. I couldn’t stop looking at it, because I sat center, holding an overflowing glass with my head tilted down, smiling. Aaron was behind me in shadow, but definitely present. The rest of my family crowded around the table. Mom, Dad, Aunt Tenne, Dixie, Myrtle and Millicent and in the corner my cousin, Chuck. They all crowded in, looming over me, smiling and laughing.
 

Close up I saw more people woven into our clothes, some living and others not. Gavin’s face was in Dixie’s sleeve. Grandma George was in a flower Mom was holding. There was another face, one I never expected to see. Aunt Tenne came up behind me and wrapped her soft arms around me. “I told Bruno,” she said. “I almost didn’t, but I changed my mind. I was right, wasn’t I?”
 

I blinked back the tears. Bruno had put David in me. His smiling face was concealed in my shoulder and my face was slightly inclined toward him.
 

“Is that you or what?” She squeezed me tighter.

I nodded unable to speak and slipped out of her grasp into the sunshine. I walked on the beach until it ended at a coral cliff and returned to sit by the pool with a memoir of living in Paris, balanced in my lap.
 

Lucia sat beside me and offered her leg. “What do you think? Spitball has that dry suit. I really want to go diving.”
 

My chest tightened. The Dad feeling was back again full force. Colin made sense, but, I don’t know, something wasn’t right about it. “I’d feel better if you stayed on dry land.”
 

“Fibonaccis always dive in.” She grinned. “Besides, this is my last chance.”
 

I took off the bandage. The wound was closing nicely, had no smell, and no oozing. “It can’t get wet, not even a little.”
 

“It won’t. Spitball says it’ll be totally dry. The suit will be filled with air and we won’t go very deep.”
 

“Alright, but if you feel any discomfort, you have to surface. Who’s going with you?”
 

“Graeme, of course, Spitball, your mom, Dixie, and Linda Gmuca. Frankie’s too hung over.”
 

What could I say? I have a feeling? Even to me it would’ve sounded ridiculous. “Stick close to Spitball.”
 

She leaned over and hugged me. “They have Colin, and Graeme called the police station. They said he’s not getting bail.”
 

“Thank goodness for that.”
 

Lucia left with only a slight limp. She was resilient, I’d give her that, or maybe it was being a Fibonacci. They always come out on top, no matter what. I settled back on my chair and read about Christmas in Paris. I’d like to try a cone of hot chestnuts and wander the wide avenues without a care. At some point, Aaron showed up with nachos. They looked great, but had on them the hated crab, so I ate some chips from the protected bottom to make him happy and declared them the best ever. Let me tell you even the chips with no crab touching them, had the essence of crabbiness. That stuff is pervasive.
 

One of the office girls came to tell me there was a phone call for me in the office.
 

“Miss Watts,” said Tabora. “I have some bad news.”
 

I held my breath.
 

“Colin denies having anything to do with the attacks on the Carrows.”

“Do you believe him?”
 

Tabora tapped something on his desk in a slow, hard rhythm. “I do. I’ve been in contact with the FBI and they found no indications of bribery in his bank accounts and no connections to the Fibonaccis or any known associates.”
 

“So he’s just a drunken gambler,” I said.
 

“I believe so. How are Lucia and Graeme this morning?” he asked.
 

“Fine. I had breakfast with them. They’re convinced that it was Colin.”
 

“It’s not Colin and I have no leads.”
 

I put my head on the desk and kept the phone to my ear. “I was afraid of that.”

“What about you? Any ideas?”
 

“Not really. Nobody had access during every incident.”
 

“Except the husband and then he was poisoned,” said Tabora. “I’m coming over to conduct more interviews. My life would be much easier if you were leaving today.”
 

“Mine, too, I suspect. I’ll be at the pool,” I said.
 

We said goodbye, I thanked the office staff, and left the frigid air-conditioning of the office. The gate guard’s eyes passed over me briefly as I passed. The resort’s security was good. No one got hassled. Unruly cruise ship passengers were booted posthaste, but they couldn’t do anything about those who were allowed inside. Although it was a small boutique resort, there were quite a few guests and staff, all of which would have to be cleared. I didn’t envy Tabora. Plus, by the time he got the job done, we’d be gone.

I headed for the pool, wishing I’d heard from Chuck. I assumed he wasn’t calling Mom because she wasn’t supposed to know about all this, but it made me uneasy just the same. The pool had filled up with guests while I’d been gone. A young mom and her fat baby were in the shallow end, learning to splash. Her toddler, in pigtails and a saggy-bottomed bikini, giggled on the side and tried to work up enough courage to jump in. Other guests smiled and yelled encouragement. “You can do it!” Dixie only noticed me when I blocked her sun. She was in my spot, reading my Paris book. She smiled and then it dropped off her face. “Bad news?”
 

I told her Tabora’s thoughts and she shrunk back into the chair, wrinkling her nose.
 

“Hey,” I said. “You want to write about crime. How about a little help here?”
 

“The crimes I’m going to write about have already been solved. I’ll know who did it. That’s a lot different than being amongst a resort full of suspects.”
 

Aaron ambled into the pool area, wearing a brand-new shirt with the La Isla Bonita logo and carrying a small platter. I’d never seen him in anything new before. Whoever had picked it out had gotten the wrong size. The shirt went to the bottom of his stone-washed shorts.
 

“Brownie,” he said, holding out the platter.
 

I took a big juicy one and said, “How do you always know when I need chocolate?”

“It’s a gift.”
 

“Yes, it is,” said Dixie, taking a tiny brownie that matched her waistline. “We were just talking murder.”
 

“Huh?”
 

“Colin didn’t try to kill Lucia and we’re back to no suspects,” I said.
 

“I hate to say it,” said Dixie, “but what about Joe or Andrew? They were around for every attempt, weren’t they?”
 

“They were on a dive boat for the second poisoning, but I’m not sure about the first one,” I conceded. “Do you have a cellphone on you?”
 

Dixie gave me Mom’s phone and looked longingly at the other brownies.
 

Just eat another one, woman. No one cares if you gain a pound.
 

I called Chuck first and got his inbox. Damn. Then I dialed a second number and a polite hello came out of the phone. Totally unexpected. I looked at the number to see if I’d made a mistake. No. Right number.
 

“Uncle Morty?” I asked.
 

“Oh, it’s you.” Uncle Morty’s gruff was back in a big way. “What do you want?”
 

“Why were you nice when you thought it was Dixie?”

“She cries. What do you want? Getting bored in paradise?”
 

“Not hardly. I don’t have time to explain everything, but I need you to look up a couple of guys for me ASAP.”
 

“Got a couple of hot dates?” he asked.

“When do I ask you to look into my dates?”
 

“You should. You dated some real douchebags.”
 

“Whatever.” I gave him everything I had on Joe and Andrew and told him I’d pay whatever he wanted as long as he was fast as in five minutes fast. That got him interested like nothing else. I’d spent half my life avoiding paying Uncle Morty anything.

“I suppose you don’t want me to tell Tommy. Ain’t gonna happen, sister,” he said.
 

“I don’t give a crap who you tell. Just do it.”
 

He hung up on me. At least I could always count on him. He was back in three minutes with some preliminaries. Just normal stuff, bank account information, hospitalizations, degrees, loans. Nothing remotely helpful. Neither were in the kind of debt people killed to get out of.
 

“That’s not going to do it.” I took a deep breath. “Any connections to organized crime?”
 

“Define organized crime.”

“The Fibonaccis.”
 

Uncle Morty let out a string of curse words so loud I had to hold the phone far from my ear. Dixie wrinkled her nose again and Aaron snorted. He was used to it from their years of gaming.
 

“Are you done?” I asked.
 

More cursing.

“Are you going to help me or not?”
 

“Already on it. Tommy’s going to kill you.”
 

“Yeah. Yeah. Anything?”
 

“Nah. No arrests of any kind. They both bailed out a guy named Colin Rodwell for various misdemeanors, nothing to connect with the mob. What have you gotten yourself into there?”