Double Black Diamond (Mercy Watts Mysteries) (13 page)

“No, you won’t,” I said. “What are you, fifteen?”

“Eighteen.”
 

“I might have to order that calendar,” said Eddy.
 

I smiled, batting my eyelashes until I realized I was wearing my goggles. Idiot. But Rodney might’ve accidentally been helpful with talking me up. An in with the patrol could be useful. Cam took off and Eddy went to follow him, but I grabbed his arm. “Were you here this morning when they found that snowboarder?”
 

“Second on the scene. Tank, the head lift operator, found Rory. Why?” asked Eddy.
 

“Just curious. It’s the nurse in me. Was it just the stab wound to the neck or were there other injuries?”
 

Eddy tilted his head to the side.
 

“I’m wondering how he survived the night,” I said quickly. “It’s a medical curiosity.”
 

He nodded. “It’s a miracle. The pole missed all the major arteries, but he hit his head on the concrete when he fell.
 
I don’t think he was out there more than a couple of hours and he was in full gear.”
 

“Still in his snowboarder clothes? Green and black plaid jacket? Brown pants?”
 

“How’d you know?”
 

“I met him last night.”
 

“You’re friends. I’m sorry. It doesn’t look good, but he kept it together.”
 

“What do you mean?”
 

“He pulled his hood up and cinched it around his face. Probably saved his life. Tank thought he was passed out when he first saw him. Drunks wander onto the slopes sometimes. Then he saw the blood. There was so much, the poor bastard was frozen to the snow.”
 

“Was there blood anywhere else?” I asked.
 

Head tilt again. I’d gone too far. Usually I’d be able to save it with a low-cut top and a peekaboo bra, but it was twelve degrees and I had eight layers on. My breasts were only good for making me top heavy at the moment.
 

“There’s something Rodney didn’t mention about me. My dad’s a detective. It’s in the blood. I liked Rory. If I can do something to help, I have to do it.”
 

Eddy nodded. “So that’s how you knew there’d be blood somewhere else.”
 

“I guessed. Where was Rory attacked?”
 

“At the door to the lift control room.”
 

“Inside?”
 

“Outside. There was, what do they call it, blood spatter all over the door and the wall.”
 

“Drag marks to the back of the building?” I asked.
 

“I don’t think so. Nothing like that,” said Eddy.

“Footprints?”
 

Eddy’s shoulders slumped. “Probably, but like fucking idiots, we stomped all over them.”
 

“That’s understandable. You were saving a life, not preserving a crime scene. Wait. Did you call the victim Rory?”
 

“Yeah. Of course, that’s his name.”
 

“So you know Rory? How well?” I asked.
 

“Just around. He’s a partier for sure.”
 

“Did you see him last night?”
 

“Yeah, at Aprés. Late, around eleven.”
 

“Did you see him leave? Who was he with?” I asked.
 

“The usual, Rory’s buds, Mark and Austin, and there were some girls. I think Lyndsay was there.”

“Lyndsay?”
 

“Lyndsay Pinnock. She works in tickets. I left at about midnight. Rory was still there.”
 

“Was he still wearing his snowboarding gear?”
 

Eddy slapped his thigh. “He wasn’t. I didn’t think of it before. He was wearing skinny jeans and an ugly-ass plaid shirt. Looked shitty with that purple hair.”
 

“Did he have that stuff on under his snowboarding gear when you found him?”
 

“I don’t remember. I was looking at his neck.”
 

“Do you know where he was staying?” I asked.

“Probably in Copper One or Two,” said Eddy. “His dad’s big in the pot business. They’ve got money.”
 

“Thanks, Eddy. Did you tell this stuff to the cops?”
 

“No. Do you think it will help?”
 

“We won’t know until we know. You know,” I said.
 

He grinned. “You should come to Aprés tonight. Lyndsay will be there. She’s always there.”
 

“I think I will.”
 

Fergus cleared his throat.
 

“And Fergus will accompany me, whether I like it or not.”
 

Eddy shrugged and pivoted. Before I could blink he’d disappeared in a spray of snow.
 

“That was masterful,” said Fergus. “Who did it?”
 

I got out my phone. “I have no idea. Don’t you have a university to attend?”
 

“This is my gap year.”
 

“Aren’t you supposed to spend that doing good deeds like worming orphans in Somalia?”
 

“I am doing a good deed. I’m helping you.”
 

“That’s debatable.”
 

I called Pete, who sounded grumpier than he did after working three days straight with no sleep. When I told him about Rodney, he cheered up considerably and said he’d book it down to the lift.
 

“What next?” asked Fergus.
 

“Where I’m going you can’t go,” I said.
 

“I beg to differ.”
 

Groan.
 

Pete waved at me from the back of the ambulance, while Nancy tried to talk her way in.

“Madam, we just don’t have the room.”
 

She crossed her arms. “I will follow you in the car.”
 

“Have it your way,” said the EMT and he closed the door.
 

“Calvin, get the car.”
 

“Why are we going to the hospital again?” asked Calvin, taking off his helmet.
 

“Rodney’s injured,” she said. “He needs our support.”
 

Calvin looked at me. “He needs our support.”

“So I hear,” I said. “Have fun.”

Calvin and Nancy tromped off to our ski lockers. Four down, three to go and those were the worst three. Uncle Morty wouldn’t be too bad, I could outrun him any day, but Fergus was wily and Aaron had a sixth sense about me.
 

“Where do you think you’re going?” asked Uncle Morty. He was flanked by Fergus and Aaron. All watching me for any false moves. Well, Morty and Fergus were. Aaron was eating a donut and drinking a hot toddy that he’d gotten from somewhere.
 

“I didn’t move,” I said.
 

“You were about to.”
 

My phone dinged. It was Spidermonkey texting me back. Rory was in Copper One on the penthouse level. His father owned the condo.
 

“And who was that?” asked Uncle Morty. “Nobody calling about nothing.”
 

“It was Philippa,” I said with my nose in the air. It helps to live the lie. “Millicent is doing well.”
 

“Course she is. The old bat is probably sitting on a giant velvet cushion eating caviar.”
 

“That’s my cat. Millicent is in bed, a normal bed, and she hates caviar,” I said.
 

“There’s nothing normal about those women,” he growled.
 

Uncle Morty had an unnatural fear of my godmothers. He maintained there was something odd about them, but could never explain exactly what that was. I admit that Myrtle and Millicent weren’t typical in any sense of the word, but I’d say they were elegant rather than odd.
 

“You should get to know them better,” I said.

He scoffed. “Over my dead body. Who knows what they’ve got stashed in that mausoleum of a house.”
 

“You mean besides the fabulous art collection, first editions, and the letters, of course. I would think as a writer you would have an interest in befriending them.”
 

Uncle Morty grumbled and was suitably distracted from my text. Fergus lifted his goggles. “Letters? I’ve heard of the fabulous Bled Collection, but are these letters a part of it?”
 

“Kind of,” I said. “The Girls collect personal letters sent by famous authors, JRR Tolkien, Dorothy Parker, Fitzgerald.”

“Quiet,” said Uncle Morty. “We don’t know who this latest nutjob of yours is.”

Brainstorm!

“You are absolutely right. Fergus could be a maniac serial killer. You better check him out.”
 

Uncle Morty grabbed Fergus by the jacket and he squeaked. “What was that weird name of yours?”
 

“Borthwick. Fergus Borthwick of Gadfallow.”

“Like Gadfallow Scotch Whiskey.”
 

“The very same,” said Fergus, looking to me with pleading eyes.
 

You’re on your own, skinny.

I hoisted my skis on my shoulder and saluted them. “I’m off to the ladies’ room. Be right back.”
 

Morty didn’t even look at me. He was already on his phone, looking up Gadfallow no doubt. I hoped for Fergus’s sake there was nothing sinister for my uncle to find or he’d wished he’d never met me. Morty would have him arrested on some charge or other. I guarantee his paperwork would be lost several times and I’d be back at work in St. Louis before it got sorted.
 

I locked up my skis, put on my Uggs, and was on the elevator in record time. Morty was fast in his snooping, but I figured I had at least twenty minutes before he got suspicious and caught up with me. I went in our condo and was promptly hit by the world’s angriest pug. Wallace bit my ski pant and I had to drag her to the bedroom where I dropped my boots. I wasn’t going to change, but I couldn’t detach the stink dog from my leg. I peeled off my pants, grabbed a pair of jeans, and ran out of the bedroom, locking Wallace in. She yapped at the door and I could picture her punishing me by peeing on everything I owned. At least I’d match though.
 

I went for the door and realized I’d forgotten something. Slump. My lockpicks were still in the side pocket of my suitcase, hidden from Pete’s eyes. He definitely wouldn’t understand why I brought them or the three kinds of mace, or the zip-ties, or the taser. To my credit I didn’t bring my Mauser or the Luger. I would’ve had to declare them at the airline counter and I wasn’t crazy about explaining that to Calvin and Nancy. There were just some things I didn’t leave home without, but I couldn’t expect them to understand that. After Honduras, I learned that Dad was right and it was best to be prepared.
 

Wallace was yapping and ramming the door with her slimy snout, but I’d just have to go for it. I opened the door and pinned her against the bedroom wall. I kept the beast there with my foot while dragging my suitcase over and unzipping it. I grabbed my lockpicks and ran out, slamming the door behind me. I was sweating and Wallace was totally berserk.
 

“Serves you right, you psycho,” I said as I got a pair of sterile gloves out of my purse. Nurses like to be prepared for bodily fluids. I went to the front door and swung it open. “Ahhh!”
 

Aaron stood there, eating a pile of mac and cheese out of a bread bowl.
 

“Aaron.”
 

“Huh?”
 

“What are you doing?” I asked.
 

“Eating.”
 

“I can see that. Why are you eating outside my door?”
 

“Waiting for you.”
 

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Where’re we going?”
 

“Nowhere. I’m going to stay here and you’re going to…do something I can’t think of. See ya. Bye.”

I closed the door and counted to five. Then I looked through the peekhole. There he was, chewing.
 

Damnit.

Eventually he’d run out of food and he’d have to get more, but by that time Morty would be done with Fergus. I yanked the door open. “Why do you do this to me?”
 

“I’m your partner.”
 

“Not this time. I have to go by myself. Try to understand.”
 

“No.”
 

“No? This isn’t for you, Aaron. This is just me. Only me. You can’t be involved,” I said.
 

“Tommy said I’m your partner. I have to help you.” A huge glob of mac and cheese fell off his plastic fork and stuck to his faded Batman tee. The last thing Aaron looked like was helpful.
 

“Dad doesn’t know what I’m doing and if he did, he wouldn’t want you to help me. Now please go.” I locked the door and went for the elevator. Maybe I could lure him in, get out, and go for the stairs. That could work. Aaron looked like he did a fifty minute mile.