Double Black Diamond (Mercy Watts Mysteries) (30 page)

“I need some Motrin,” I said.
 

Like six or a dozen.
 

“Do you have a headache?” asked Nancy.
 

“Just a little sore from yesterday.”
 

“Really?” Nancy looked at me with a worried frown. From the way she was moving I’m guessing she wasn’t sore. How pathetic is that? I was walking like an eighty-year-old with a hip replacement and she had a spring in her step.
 

“Really. I’m not as young as I used to be,” I said, going in to change. I put my smallest pepper spray in my hip pocket, but disobeyed Detective Carey as I am wont to do with homicide detectives and left the taser. Too bulky. Plus, I planned on sticking with the super parents, so I couldn’t imagine a situation where I’d need to tase someone on the mountain. I came out of the bedroom wishing I could go back in and take a nap. The thought of skiing with the dynamic duo made me so tired.
 

“You should do Krav Maga,” said Calvin. “It will increase your stamina.”
 

“Krav Maga? You two do that?”
 

“Three times a week. Are you ready?”

I wasn’t but we went anyway.
 

Chapter Eighteen

By the time we got to the lift, I regretted the taser decision. DBD was there, minus Darren and Nina. They all wore black, which was unusual for them, but not for anyone else. Plenty of the surrounding skiers had black coats and/or pants. There were twelve in the entourage, including five bodyguards about Bobby’s size and some new girls that were flanking Wade and Jimmy. The tattoo girl was still with Wade. He had his arm over her shoulder and it made me feel, I don’t know, sad. She was so young. It’s not that I didn’t understand. If David Bowie asked me out I wouldn’t care how old he was. It was the heavy makeup she had slathered on her face and the dour expression. The other girls didn’t look like that. They were all smiles and I’m-so-hot poses. Maybe tattoo girl didn’t like the competition.

Mickey only had a bodyguard and I liked him all the more for it. Random people were taking pictures as they poled towards the lifts and there was also a guy with a professional rig taking shots. Wade and Jimmy were posing in a we’re normal way. Mickey wasn’t posing. I had the impression that he was doing his best to keep a neutral look on his face.
 

Victor Mooting spotted me first and he definitely hadn’t forgotten about our little incident yesterday. He sneered at me as we passed. I steered us into the far right lane in hopes of keeping my distance. I should’ve known better. Mooting poled into the next lane and slid past me, whispering, “I’ll get you fired, you slut.”
 

I would’ve happily tasered that jerk. It would’ve been nice to see him twitching on the ground.
 

“What did he say?” asked Nancy.
 

Luckily, she was on the other side away from Victor.

“Nothing,” I said.

Calvin was behind me. “He said Mercy’s a slut.”
 

Nancy gasped. “How dare he? Who is that?”

“Victor Mooting. He works for Double Black Diamond,” I said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m going to speak to his employer,” said Nancy. “I’ll give him a piece of my mind.”
 

Two ladies poled by us with intense scowls on their faces. “Don’t you worry about him,” said the one on the right. “We’ll fix his wagon.” It was Purple Pom-Poms and her partner, Pink Pom-Poms, from the shop when I was trying to escape from Fergus.
 

The ladies put on speed and got on either side of Victor. He looked frantically left and right. Purple Pom-Poms whacked him in the butt with her pole to keep him moving.
 

“What are they going to do?” asked Nancy.
 

“Give him a piece of their minds to feast upon, I imagine.” I poled up to the turn, but hung back, watching my fluffy defenders harangue Victor as he tried to escape and failed. The ladies announced loudly that he was with them. Next thing they were on a chair being whisked up the mountain. The last thing I heard was, “You are a disgusting excuse for a human being. Let me tell you why.” And they were gone.
 

“Do you know those ladies?” asked Calvin, squeezing in beside me.
 

“We met briefly,” I said. “They like Dickens.”
 

Calvin was about to question me on the connection between Dickens and middle-aged lady crusaders when angry burst of cursing erupted behind us.
 

“Shut up, you son of a bitch!” yelled Mickey. “We had an agreement.”
 

“We had a discussion!” yelled Wade.
 

We turned and there was DBD, red-faced and coming up fast from behind.
 

“Let’s move it,” said Nancy.
 

We booked it into the main line. Unfortunately, everyone who was going on the American Eagle had the same idea. I guess nobody wanted to get in the middle of Mickey and Wade duking it out with poles in a crowded area.
 

“You agreed last night!” yelled Mickey. “This is it, you egomaniacal dirtbag.”
 

“Without me you’d be begging for session work at some third-rate studio!” yelled Wade.
 

“Who do you think the talent is?”
 

“Me! I’m the one they come to see.”
 

“Wade, you’re just a hairdo!” yelled Mickey.
 

“I’ve got the pipes!”

“With nothing to say!”
 

Somebody rammed into the back of my skis, but I kept my head down. I did not want to get in the middle of that mess.
 

“I’ve got plenty to say and you’ll give me credit where credit is due or the world’s going to hear me.”
 

“You better shut up or you’ll find yourself a tall man in a shallow grave!” yelled Mickey.
 

“You don’t have the stones!”
 

“I’ll find a stone and beat you with it.”
 

“You can’t find your ass with both hands. Nina does all your thinking for you.”
 

Mickey’s voice went up an octave into a scary range that said homicidal to me. “Don’t you say her name. You’re not fit to wash her stilettos.”
 

“Don’t forget I gave her to you.”
 

“You didn’t give me shit!”
 

Jimmy Cave broke in. “Guys. Guys. We’re supposed to be chilling out. Skiing like old times.”
 

“We’re supposed to be brokering a deal,” said Mickey.
 

There was a loud crack of metal on plastic. Okay, that was enough. I wasn’t even in on the fight and my blood pressure was stepping up to critical. I whipped out my pepper spray and twisted around, waving the small canister in their faces. Just in time, too. Mickey had one pole in both hands and was about to crack Wade in the back of the neck. The useless bodyguards were behind them looking terrified, but doing nothing since they weren’t paid to protect the band from each other.
 

“Knock it off or I’m going to spray somebody and I really don’t care who!” I yelled.
 

 
Wade and Mickey froze and stared at me.
 

“Seek help! You’re too old for this crap!”
 

Mickey dropped his pole and burst into laughter and suddenly everyone was laughing from the lift guys to the bodyguards. Everyone except Calvin, Nancy, and me. I don’t know what I looked like, but they looked like they’d been transported to another dimension where polite conversation and Scrabble didn’t exist. They were horrified.

I turned back around, tucked my spray away, and poled forward. That was it. No more vacations with people. Next time I was going to fly off to a desert island and sit in the sand completely alone. No phone. No family. No maniacs.
 

Jimmy poled up beside me on the main line. “You rock! I’ve got give it to Mickey. He knows how to hire.”
 

“You people are insane,” I said. “Do not get on the lift with us. I’ll spray you on principle.”
 

He laughed. He didn’t think I’d do it. I would so do it. I was up half the night. My body felt like someone had beat me with a baton. My boyfriend was MIA and I was skiing with the roboparents again. I was not in the mood for DBD.
 

“Mercy!” yelled Mickey. “You’re with me.”
 

“No, I’m not. You are certifiable and I don’t mean as a tax consultant. You are crazy.”
 

Calvin, Nancy, and I poled away from Jimmy. We were next in line.
 

“Good,” said Nancy. “That man is not a stable character. Who knows what he’d say to you.”
 

Aw damn.

I closed my eyes and slumped. What would he say? I was supposed to be getting in with DBD, asking questions, figuring out what their deal was.
 

“I have to do it,” I said.
 

“What?” asked Calvin. “Why?”

“I’ll explain later,” I said.
 

“I don’t think so,” said Nancy.
 

“Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
 

Sort of. Sometimes. A little.
 

“Alright. If you insist,” said Calvin.
 

The lift guy frantically waved them forward and then Mickey was in Calvin’s spot smiling like he hadn’t been ready to sever Wade’s spine a minute before.
 

“I’m glad we got this chance to talk,” he said.
 

“Damn straight!” yelled Wade. “Talk some sense to him, Miss Sexy Tits.”
 

“I hate him,” I said.
 

“We all do,” said Mickey as the lift chair scooped us up.
 

I lowered the safety bar. I don’t know if it was for me or for Mickey. A just-in-case kind of thing. We were up above the trees in the silence of the cold morning and I wasn’t sure how to proceed. Mickey wasn’t right. That much was certain. Mom was always on me about never isolating myself with a crazy person aka suspect. I’d done it several times before and it never worked out for me. Mickey wasn’t exactly a suspect, but I was pretty sure being alone with him wasn’t a great move.
 

“If you hate Wade, why in the hell are you trying to reform the band?” I asked.
 

He smiled at me, handsome in his goggles and neck warmer. Not many guys could pull that off. “I’ve known Wade since I was fifteen and I’ve hated him since day one.”
 

“That’s not an answer.”
 

“You haven’t signed a confidentiality agreement yet.”

“Things aren’t as secret as you may think.”
 

He shifted in his seat and I became very aware of his poles. “Like what?”
 

“Like Wade is blackmailing you over your connection to Open Mind Medicinals.”
 

“Holy shit.” Mickey whistled. “I knew you were smart. How’d you put that together?”
 

I shook my head. “Like I said, not exactly secret. Anybody could figure that out. The cops have.”
 

“How’d you know that?”
 

“That Detective Carey questioned me about Rory Dushane. He let it slip.”
 

“Victor. That night in Aprés. He thinks he’s helping, but he just screws everything up.”
 

“I’d have to agree with that. Why do you keep him around?” I asked.
 

Mickey switched his poles to the hand away from me. “He’s a great manager. He can get concessions out of venues and our label that no one else could.”
 

I laughed. “What’s he do? Hang them out windows by their ankles?”
 

“Whatever works.” He grinned at me and I got the feeling he wasn’t entirely joking.

“Take the good with the crazy, I guess, but he let the cat out of the bag,” I said.
 

“Carey’s a good guy. He won’t let it slip to the media,” said Mickey.
 

“Wade isn’t, but would it be so bad if people knew about your treatment?”

“For the average guy, no. But I have an image to project. Depression doesn’t jive with that. I’m supposed to be a party guy. I need this quiet. Will you do that for me?”
 

“Of course, but why get back together at all?” I asked.
 

Mickey smiled and looked up at the swirling clouds. “I’m an artist. I’d never tell him this, but I need Wade. He brings it out in me. I tried it on my own. It didn’t work. I need the— ”

“Violence?”

“Maybe. It just works when we’re together and I need to work. I’m empty without it.”

“So you’re the driving force behind the reunion?” I asked.

“Hardly. That was Darren,” he said.
 

I looked away into the trees to hide my interest. “Really. I thought he wasn’t that into the band when you were together before.”
 

Mickey didn’t answer and I turned back. Damn. I could tell by the set of his jaw I wouldn’t get anything out of him about Darren. Whatever was driving this reunion was a bigger secret than Mickey’s illness. I had to change the conversation.
 

“How’s Nina?” I asked.
 

Mickey’s shoulders relaxed. “Bruised, but better. The shoulder is healing and the concussion is minor. Thank you for sending Pete to the hospital. He really put her at ease and explained everything.”
 

“He’s great that way.”
 

“Nina’s anxious for you to sign on the dotted line,” he said.
 

The end of the lift came into sight and a little thrill of fear went through me. I’d never felt that way before, not while skiing anyway. Myrtle and Millicent called me their ski cheetah, fast and fearless. Of course this was the first ski trip that I’d been squashed by Uncle Morty and had a couple of attempted murders in the vicinity. Still, I didn’t like the fear in me. It wasn’t a comfortable fit.