Double Black Diamond (Mercy Watts Mysteries) (27 page)

“Aaron, what’s in the little pitcher?” I asked.
 

“Brown butter syrup with cognac vanilla,” said Aaron.

I put my nose in the air. “Did you make the vanilla?”
 

“Of course.” He ran back in the kitchen.
 

Mr. Dushane picked up the pitcher and sniffed. “You can make vanilla?”
 

“Apparently so. Dig in. I swear it will help you.” And me, though I didn’t say that out loud. Aaron’s food made people happy and, as a result, chatty.
 

I filled the mugs with Aaron’s hot chocolate from the big pitcher and we ate the waffles that defied description. They had bacon, but not any old bacon, seriously good bacon. I was guessing a slow-cured cottage bacon. Aaron liked to tell me about food. I paid attention when it came to bacon. Not so much with hot dogs. Some things are better not to know. There were chives in there, cheddar— a special cheddar, probably Irish— and something else I couldn’t put my finger on. It wasn’t crab though and that was all I cared about.
 

Mr. Dushane ate. First with tentative little bites, like he was afraid of what might happen, but then big manly bites that he could barely chew, washed down with Aaron’s special hot chocolate. That recipe I knew. I’d gotten it out of him on Thanksgiving after Dad had plied him with Millicent and Myrtle’s special Gluwein. They make it with both brandy and Grand Marnier. Aaron would’ve told me anything after two cups of that elixir. Psst. The secret is bittersweet chocolate, preferably Lindt. There are more secrets, but I’m not drunk.
 

 
I fed Wallace bits of waffle under the table and managed to keep her from barking. She only needed half a waffle before I heard little snores coming out of my purse.
 

“Feeling better?” I asked Mr. Dushane.
 

“I can’t believe it, but I do. I didn’t think it was possible,” he said.
 

“So how many deliveries was Rory supposed to make while he was here. There’s me and the member of DBD. Anybody else?”
 

“You know I can’t tell you that.”
 

“Sure, you can. At this point I don’t care about who or what. Just how many.”
 

“How do I know you’ll keep what I say in confidence?”
 

“I guess you don’t. Not for sure anyway. But you know I want Keegan’s oil. Where else am I going to get it? I’m not going to screw you over and jeopardize him.”
   

“I still don’t think you should do this,” he said, sipping the hot chocolate.
 

“Do you have more of Keegan’s oil on hand?”

He sighed and squeezed the cup. “No, I don’t. Every ounce is spoken for. I won’t have another supply for him for about two months.”
 

“So I have to find out where that oil went,” I said. That’s all there is to it.”
 

“Why are you doing this? It’s dangerous.”
 

“Why are you flying all over the country speaking to legislators about legalization of your cannabis? You can barely fill demand now.”
 

“It’s the right thing to do,” Mr. Dushane said with a smile.
 

“Bingo. I said I’d get that oil for Keegan and I’m damn well going to do it.”
 

“What about Rory?” His eyes filled with unshed tears for a moment but he quickly blinked them away.
 

“I’m not sure what you’re asking,” I said.
 

“Will you find out what happened? Who tried to kill my son?”
 

“I will if I can, but I can’t lie to you, the oil is my priority.”
 

“I think they go hand in hand,” said Mr. Dushane.
 

Aaron trotted out of the kitchen with another pitcher. Without asking he refilled our mugs and waited. I think he was holding his breath.
 

“It’s delicious, Aaron. Just what we needed,” I said.
 

Without a word, he ran for the kitchen.
 

“He’s a little odd, isn’t he?” asked Mr. Dushane.

“A little?”
 

He smiled. “About Rory. I want to make a deal with you. I don’t want your investigation to be only about the oil, although that is a laudable goal.”
 

“The police are on it. Detective Carey appears to be competent.”

“I’m not interested in competent. I want to do something. I want to make something happen. My wife can’t live with not knowing.”

She may have to.

“What do you have in mind?” I sipped the fresh hot chocolate. It was a slightly different recipe. I believe there were some chilis in there and smoked cinnamon.
 

“My wife’s business is quite lucrative.”

“Let me stop you right there. I’m not interested in getting paid, if that’s what you’re thinking. How would I explain having more money? I have the nosiest family on earth. My uncle Morty would know within five days if I had extra dough coming in.”
 

“How about oil for Keegan?” he said.
 

“Now you’re talking.”
 

“I’ll give him a year’s supply, if you succeed.” Mr. Dushane took a big drink of the new hot chocolate. “Wow. Some of my patients could really use this stuff. Maintaining weight is a constant challenge.”
 

“They’d have no problem with Aaron’s recipes. His theory is the more calories the better.” I sat back in my chair and stroked Wallace’s sleeping head. “I like the year’s supply, but what do you consider success— knowing what happened— a conviction?”
 

“Knowing is the minimum.”
 

“What if I don’t succeed?” I asked.

“I’ll give Keegan three months supply for the effort. Will that do it?”
 

I held up my fork, dripping with brown butter syrup. “Let’s fork on it.”
 

We clinked forks and Mr. Dushane said, “I feel more hopeful than I have in days.”
 

“I’ll try to live up to your expectations.”
 

“You look like a girl that exceeds them regularly.”
 

Wallace woke up and promptly bit my hand, literally the hand that fed her. I stuffed another half a waffle in her gullet and wiped my hand on a sticky napkin.
 

“I have to ask,” said Mr. Dushane, “what’s in the bag?”

“My boyfriend’s mother’s evil pug.”
 

“If it’s evil, why are you carrying it around?”
 

“Wallace is proving to be useful. I had to get out of the house somehow.”
 

He looked into my bag and gave Wallace some of his waffle. “So evil dogs wear red turtlenecks?”
 

“She uses cuteness as a disguise. Since we have a deal and I hope you’ve decided to trust me, I’d like to know more about the oil.”
 

Mr. Dushane made swooping lines in his syrup with the tines of his fork. “I can’t break patient confidentiality, not even for Rory.”
 

“I’m not asking what the meds were. How long have you known DBD?”
 

“I guess that’s okay. About ten years,” he said.

“Do you know all the members equally well?” I asked.

“You’re sneaky. I guess that’s necessary in your line of work.”
 

I laughed. “I’m a nurse. Everything else is just my life happening. So equally well or no?”

“No. Not equal.”

“Do you know all four members?”
 

“No.”
 

I rolled it through my mind. Wade had looked in the know when Victor was overturning tables in Aprés over the stuff, but he’d said, “He’ll live.” So now that I thought about it, the stuff in Rory’s bag wasn’t for Victor or Wade. That left Mickey, Darren, or Jimmy.
 

“Are you aware of the fighting between Mickey and Wade?” I asked.

“Those have been fighting since day one.”

“Any new fighting? Say since they’ve been talking about getting the band back together?”
 

“Yes.”
 

“Did it involve you?” I asked.
 

Mr. Dushane stayed silent.
 

“I’ll take that as a yes. On the getting back together, my impression is that Mickey is the holdout.”
 

“That’s not a secret.”
 

“So the fight is between Wade and Mickey. I assume Jimmy is with Wade. Who’s side is Darren on?”
 

Mr. Dushane put on his coat and wound his grey scarf around his neck. “I don’t know Darren. Miss Watts, I wish I could give you some insight into how DBD works, but I can’t and not because I don’t want to. I simply don’t know. If you know anything about them, you know they’re violent with each other, but they stayed together long after other bands split.”

So Darren’s off the list.

“My dad says they’re always on the edge of homicide,” I said and then polished off my hot chocolate.
 

“That’s accurate.”
 

“But what about Nina? Anyone smack around the women?”
 

“No. If someone hurt Nina, Mickey would kill them without hesitation. He adores her and Wade knows that. As for other women, I have no idea. I can tell you this, Wade needs Mickey. He’s the talent.”
 

“Dad said that, too. What does it mean? I thought Wade was considered a great singer and performer.”

Mr. Dushane stood up. “He is, but without Mickey he has nothing to sing.”
 

“Mickey writes all the music? I didn’t know that.”
 

“It’s not common knowledge. Mickey has always shared credit with the other members, but make no mistake, he’s the one,” he said.
 

It’s Mickey’s oil. Has to be. He knows him too well.

“That’s good to know about Mickey,” I said.

“Thank you for breakfast,” said Mr. Dushane. “I have to get back to the hospital. Call me if you need anything.”
 

“I will.” I stood up, too, and heaved my dog purse on my shoulder.
 

“Thank your friend for me. The food did help.” Mr. Dushane went for the door, but Aaron ran out with a bag. He gave it to Mr. Dushane and disappeared once again. “What’s this?”
 

“Probably more waffles for your wife,” I said with a shrug.
 

“I don’t know what to say.”
 

“No one does. I’ll call with updates when I have them.”
 

Mr. Dushane left, hugging Aaron’s bag against his chest. I watched him walk away into the swirling snow and felt a heaviness come over me. Now not only did I have to find the oil, but catch the criminal as well. I needed a vacation from my vacation.
 

Chapter Sixteen

“About time!” boomed a voice to my right. I winced and looked over my shoulder. Uncle Morty stepped out from between two buildings. “I been freezing my nutsack off out here.”
 

“Please don’t say nutsack,” I said. “And nobody asked you to freeze your anything off.”
 

“Wrong. Tommy expects me to keep an eye on you and that’s what I’m doing.”
 

“So Dad did send you.”
 

“Hell, no he didn’t, but I’m here and I’m watching you,” he said.

I walked away toward Copper One’s entrance. “I don’t need any watching. I’m a big girl.”
 

“You’re a big pain. What were you doing in there?” Uncle Morty ran to catch up with me and got so red in the face, I started worrying about an imminent heart attack.

“Calm down,” I said. “I don’t want to have to haul you off in an ambulance.”
 

“Screw that. What were you doing?”

“Eating waffles. It’s a waffle shop.”

Uncle Morty grabbed my arm. “Those were Aaron waffles and you were feeding them to Cullum Dushane. Those were information waffles. What did you want him to tell you?”

“Nothing. He just wanted to ask me about his son the night he was attacked.”

“It ain’t that simple, not when you’re involved. Aaron won’t tell me anything, but the second Pete said Cullum Dushane called you, he booked it out the door. I knew something was going on. Two attacks and you been in vicinity on both of them. Tell me that’s a coincidence.”
 

“I wasn’t anywhere near Rory when he was stabbed. Ask Pete,” I said.
 

Uncle Morty spun me around to face him. “Tell me.”
 

“Nothing to tell.”
 

“I’ll call Tommy. I’ll tell him you’re in trouble. He’ll be climbing up your tailpipe so fast you won’t have time to scream.”
 

“Leave me alone.”
 

“I ain’t never left you alone in your whole life. I ain’t gonna start now. I’ll get in your phone. I’ll find out who you’ve been talking to. I ain’t above it,” he growled so close to my face his beard tickled my chin.
 

“Fine.” I knew when I was cornered and Dad always says that some truth is what people want. It’s not always necessary to give up the whole.

“Fine what?” he asked.

“Mr. Dushane wants to hire me because of Dad and my connection to DBD. There. Are you happy?”
 

“Did you take the job?”

“I told him I’m on vacation.”
 

“Hell, no, you didn’t. You took the job. You’re just like your dad.”
 

“If you know so much, why’d you bother to ask.”
 

“Wanted to hear you admit it.” He scratched his bristly chin. “This vacation thing is boring as shit. What do you need?”
 

“Nothing. Can I go now?” I struggled to get out of his hands, but they were bigger than my biceps, so no hope.
 

“I’m gonna help you whether you like it or not, so spill it.”
 

So I told him everything. Well, everything that had nothing to do with Keegan’s oil. “I need to know why Darren Echols is suddenly interested in the band getting back together. Can you do that?”