Double Black Diamond (Mercy Watts Mysteries) (29 page)

“To question Darren Echols.”
 

“He has an alibi for the fire. I suggest you look at the bodyguards,” I said as the doors closed, locking me in with the stink dog’s stink and my own swirling thoughts.
 

Chapter Seventeen

Darren Echols’ locker was a disappointment. It contained two snowboards, both black. One had a black and white pattern of skulls on the bottom and the other had pale wood grain. Not a hint of red on either. Of course he could’ve bought a snowboard and ditched it. Uncle Morty could check his financials, but I didn’t think we’d get any joy there. If he had a brain, he’d use cash and he certainly had brains. He’d gotten himself in with DBD and stayed there without really being much of a talent if my dad was to be believed.
 

I closed the locker after briefly considering leaving Darren a little present of dog barf. It would put Bobby in an awkward position, so I tossed the bundle and went back upstairs to return the key. Detective Carey was in the hall and from the look on his face, he wasn’t getting much out of Bobby, who had his arms crossed and wouldn’t even let Carey over the threshold.
 

“Darren doesn’t like cops,” said Bobby.
 

“That’s immaterial,” said Detective Carey. “I need to verify his whereabouts. Were you with him?”

“I’m not supposed to tell anybody anything about the band. Call their lawyer.”
 

“Who’s their lawyer?”
 

“I don’t know.”
 

“How am I supposed to call him then?” asked Detective Carey.
 

Bobby clamped his mouth shut and his eyes got a little panicky when he saw me.
 

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “Am I interrupting?”
 

Detective Carey glared at Bobby. “I wish you were.”
 

“I just wanted to check on Bobby,” I said. “He was pretty under the weather yesterday.”
 

“I heard about that. You were supposed to be guarding Nina Symoan, but just happened to be sick when she was attacked.”
 

A drip of sweat ran down Bobby’s cheek and we all saw it. “I was sick. Ask Mercy.”
 

I nodded. “He was. I sent him back down the lift. I believe he was with patrol when it happened.” I went up on my tiptoes and still barely managed to touch Bobby’s forehead. “No fever. Any vomiting today?”

“No,” said Bobby. “I think it’s better.”
 

“Let me take your pulse. It was sky high yesterday.” I took his hand and slipped the key in his meaty palm. Then I made a show of pulse checking and declared him better.

Detective Carey gave Bobby his card. “We’ll be back to talk to you and your boss.”
 

“Whatever. Just doing my job.” Bobby retreated back into the condo and closed the door.
 

Carey said to the uniform, “You stay here. When Mr. Party Animal shows his face, call me.”
 

The uniform looked less than thrilled, but he stayed, glumly pulling out his phone.
 

“Going down?” I asked.

“I guess so. The DBD crowd is less than cooperative.”

Detective Carey and I walked to the elevator. Carey waited until we got in before he started plaguing me with questions.
 

“Calm down,” I said. “I didn’t get much.”

“You did better than me.”
 

“Pisses you off, doesn’t it?”

“Of course it does. I have a badge. You’ve got that face. I’ll have to go through the damn lawyer.”
 

“You will to find out anything about the rest of the crew, but Darren was definitely at Mickey’s rental, playing until three. Bobby was there the whole time. Don’t tell him I said that. He likes me and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“What about the rest of them?” he asked.

“The band was all there plus Nina, but Bobby wasn’t watching the rest of them.”

“I’ve never seen anyone so uncooperative. I can’t even get all the names. If they’re not hiding something, I’m Miley Cyrus.”
 

“You’d look good on a wrecking ball,” I said.
 

He laughed. “You know, I tried not to like you, but I can’t help myself.”

“That’s not a universal response to me, just so you know.”
 

“It is to your father. I asked around about your dear old dad. Tommy Watts is the man.”
 

“So he keeps telling me. You want to hear what else I found out?” I asked.
 

“There’s more?” asked Detective Carey.

The elevator opened and I stepped out. “Lots, I’m sure, but I only know a little. Walk me to the door.”
 

We walked down the short hall and turned left towards my condo. I stopped. At the end of the hall was a flash of black. It disappeared into the emergency stairs.
 

“What?” asked Carey.

I ran down the hall and flung open the door. Steps were pounding down the stairs. “Hey!” I yelled, peering over the edge. They didn’t stop and I got such a bad feeling I was nauseous. I ran down after them. Stupid. I had nothing on me. No pepper spray. Nothing. But Carey was right behind, calling for me to stop. I didn’t stop. I ran right down into the underground parking garage. I hesitated before I flung open the door. The cavernous garage was silent. No one moved. So many places to hide. The grey walls felt like a tomb. I stepped back and let the heavy door slam shut.

Detective Carey ran down the last flight, sucking wind with his hand on his service revolver. “What happened?” he gasped.

“I thought I saw someone.”
 

He put his hand on the door handle. “Who?”

“I don’t know. Someone wearing black,” I said. “They ran when they heard me call out.”
 

“Stay here,” he said, opening the door and stepping into the garage.
 

“Yeah, right.” I went out behind him, knowing we wouldn’t find anyone. The feeling of fear left my arms loose with a sort of chemical feeling to them. Adrenaline, not as pleasant as it sounds.
 

We walked a circuit around the garage. There were plenty of exits, but I couldn’t escape the intense feeling that someone was there, watching. Detective Carey took my arm and steered me back to our original stairwell.

“I think he’s still here,” he said in my ear.
 

“Me, too,” I whispered.
 

There was a clinking sound and then we heard the garage door open. Carey shoved me into the stairwell and ran for the ramp. I slid into the railing, regained my footing, and ran back into the garage. Carey came around the corner and we almost collided as a black SUV came into the garage. A smiling couple waved at us and we trailed them to their spot.
 

The man got out and frowned. “Can I help you?”
 

Detective Carey flashed his badge. “I hope so. When you opened the garage was there someone on foot waiting to get out?”

“I don’t think so.” The man turned to his companion. “Karen, did you see anyone on foot go out the garage door?”
 

“No.” Karen paused to ponytail her long blond hair. “But…someone was there.”
 

“Someone?” I asked.

They both looked, seeing me there for the first time.

“Holy crap! You look just like Marilyn Monroe,” said the man.
 

“I know. Karen, what did you see?”
 

Karen stared at me. “Are you a cop?” She said it like there was no freaking way. I agreed, but it was a little insulting.
 

Detective Carey stepped in front of me. “She’s with me. What did you see?”
 

“There might’ve been someone. I saw something move when we drove in, but I really wasn’t paying attention.”
 

“Did you see a face? Clothing? Anything?”
 

Karen bit her lip. “Sorry. Just movement. I think they were wearing black.”
 

Detective Carey thanked them and gave them his card if they remembered anything else. They wouldn’t. I could’ve screamed in frustration.
 

We went back to the stairs and walked up together. I tried to tell myself it was nothing, but it was a lie. Some things you just know.
 

“What do you carry?” asked Detective Carey, pulling me out of my thoughts.
 

“Huh?”
 

“For protection? I saw you have a concealed carry permit.”
 

“Curtesy of my dad. I never carry. I have pepper spray and a taser in the condo,” I said.
 

“I think it’s best that you have those on you at all times,” said Detective Carey.
 

We got to my floor and he walked me to my door. “It probably wasn’t me he was after. Kera stayed with us last night.”
 

He nodded. “Where is she now?”
 

“She was going to the Belgian Bean with Fergus earlier.”
 

“Let’s see if she’s here.”
 

I swiped my keycard and opened the door to find Calvin and Nancy dressed out and ready to hit the slopes.
 

“Are you ready?” asked Nancy with a broad smile that quickly dropped off her face. “What’s wrong?”
 

“Nothing. We were looking for Kera,” I said.
 

“I think she’s still at the Belgian Bean with Fergus.”

Detective Carey thanked us and got on his phone. As the door closed I heard him tell someone about the person we’d chased.
 

“Are you sure everything’s alright?” asked Calvin. “You look positively down in the dumps.”
 

I took a deep breath and puffed myself up. “Totally fine.” There was no use freaking them out about the guy in the hall. It’s not like they could do anything about it.
 

“Where’s Wallace?” asked Nancy, picking up her jacket.

“She’s staying with Uncle Morty.”
 

“They are so sweet to my little girl.”
 

I hope so.

I slid by her and looked for Pete in the bedroom. It was empty. “Where’s Pete?” I asked.
 

“He went to check on Rodney,” said Calvin.
 

“I was just up there. I didn’t see him.” I texted Pete, but he didn’t answer. Then I called Uncle Morty, who answered with his usual, “What?”
 

“Is Pete there?” I asked.

He paused. “No.”
 

“You don’t sound so sure about that.”
 

“I’m sure. He ain’t here,” Uncle Morty said.
 

“Where did he go?” I asked.
 

“He got a call. A slip and fall. Patrol wanted his help. Skinny’s gettin’ popular.”
 

I hung up and told Calvin and Nancy, Skinny wouldn’t be coming. Nancy griped that she’d barely seen him and Calvin got out his phone and shot off what looked like half a dozen texts, rapid fire. It took a couple more minutes but Pete called him back. I guess Dad trumps girlfriend.

“When will you be done?” asked Calvin.

Pete had a long-winded answer.
 

“Well, call us when you’re done, Butt Whistle.”
 

Pete yelled, “Dad!”
 

Calvin began laughing. “I’m going to tell her. That’s your punishment for not skiing with your mother.” He hung up and dropped his phone into his zippered thigh pocket. “He’ll join us later.”
 

“Butt Whistle?” I asked.
 

Calvin chuckled and Nancy said, “Calvin, leave the boy some dignity.”
 

“He doesn’t have any dignity. He never did,” said Calvin. “Mercy may as well know right now.”
 

He put his arm around my shoulders and said in a conspiratorial voice, “When Pete was fourteen, he decided he was too skinny.”
 

“Imagine that,” I said.
 

“Calvin,” said Nancy.
 

“Quiet. This isn’t any worse than the panty thing,” said Calvin.
 

“It’s all bad.”
 

“And funny. Our son drove me halfway to crazy town, I can at least get a few laughs out of him. So Mercy, he decided to take all these supplements. Weight gainers. They were perfectly safe, but had the side effect of giving him tremendous gas. I mean world record setting gas, high pitched and voluminous.” Calvin started laughing so hard that he staggered into the living room and collapsed on the sofa. Nancy and I tried to hold it, but it was no use. Pete, known as Butt Whistle, was just too much for us.

Calvin held his stomach and managed to get out, “He wouldn’t stop taking them.”
 

“He scared the cat,” said Nancy, rolling around in the easy chair.

“Our minister made him stand at the back of church next to the door.”
 

“His sister threatened to disown him.”
 

“I threatened to disown him.”
 

We laughed so hard we were panting. Finally I got a hold of myself and struggled to my feet. “So what made him stop? Threats of violence?”
 

Nancy wiped her eyes. “A girl. First day of his freshman year, first class. He lost control in French in front of Allison Reynolds and that was that.”
 

“He’s still Butt Whistle to me,” said Calvin.

“You’re a bad father.”
 

“I’m a great father. He was just a weird kid. Did you tell her about the time he shaved the cat?”

I wiped the tears off my cheeks. “No. No. I can’t take it.”
 

“Good,” said Nancy. “We’ll save that one for later.”
 

Calvin clapped me on the back. “Tonight. After he’s had a beer, we’ll hit him with Twinkles. I have pictures.”
 

Nancy pushed him toward the door. “Let’s go. I’m ready for some blacks.”
 

OMG. What was wrong with these people? Members of AARP shouldn’t have this much energy. It was just wrong. Nancy’s bloodshot eyes from the Corona night were clear and Calvin looked like he’d slept twelve hours.