Double Black Diamond (Mercy Watts Mysteries) (32 page)

“It’s not the same if you don’t use tomato juice. No spices. Zero. Not even salt.”
 

“How am I going to eat this? It’s so bad.”
 

“Oh please. You do so many disgusting things as a nurse, you can eat that soup.”
 

“If I ask you something about Dad will you tell me the truth?” I asked.
 

“Maybe.”
 

“Did he have anything to do with us coming to Copper on this particular week?”
 

Mom didn’t hesitate. “I have no idea. Why would he?”
 

“Just wondering. I’ll call you later, if I survive.”
 

She laughed. “Drama queen. Have some whiskey. That’s what I did to wash down Tilly’s soup.”

I made a gagging noise. “I hate whiskey.”
 

“You’ll hate that soup worse, honeybabe.”
 

We hung up and I thought about Dad. He didn’t always tell Mom everything, especially if it had to do with me. Mom didn’t know that Dad had me tailing suspects when I was still a teenager for instance. He mightn’t have told her about putting me at Copper. Uncle Morty and Aaron showing up was crazy suspicious. Dad was a liar when it suited his purposes, but Calvin and Nancy weren’t. They’d tell me or at least show me the truth in their faces. I took a deep breath and opened the door. Okay. Whiskey was definitely going to happen. There was no grease cloud, but the smell was thick and lay on the surfaces, waiting to be stirred up by my footsteps. And it was, a swirling stink that ought to have been barf green in color to match the canned asparagus that was most certainly floating around in Nancy’s soup.
 

“You’re back,” she said from the kitchen.
 

I went in, reluctant to move in closer, but forced myself to do it. A neat row of cans was lined up on the counter: asparagus, big mealy butter beans, peas, creamed corn, mushrooms, and spinach. Then I saw it, the canned tomato juice, a whole six-pack of tastelessness.
 

“Hard at work already,” I said. What else could I say at such a sight?
 

“This is my grandmother’s recipe,” she said, happily. “It’s been in the family for eighty years.”
 

“A tradition then. Where’s Pete?”

“We haven’t seen him. Probably out saving the world, one broken wrist at a time,” said Nancy.
 

My phone dinged. It was Pete. “Mt me @ HT.”
 

“HT?” I texted back.

“Hot tub.”
 

Hooray. An escape from the smell.

“Be right there,” I typed and then looked up at Nancy to tell her. Steam was billowing out of the pot and I could hear the rolling boil because canned veggies need to be boiled.
 

“That was Pete. I’m meeting him at the hot tub,” I said.
 

“Don’t be long. This will only take another thirty minutes,” she said.
 

Thirty minutes of boiling. Wow.
 

“Okay.” I dashed into the bedroom, put on my bikini and a small terrycloth robe that came with the room. My pepper spray fit neatly in the pocket, but the taser wouldn’t, so I left it. Nancy was still in the kitchen with a wooden spoon doing a taste test. I ran out before I could be recruited for a second opinion.
 

I scanned the hallway for shadowy figures in black, but I was alone for the first time since I’d been in Colorado. No Wallace. No Fergus standing three paces behind. It should’ve felt freeing. Instead, my senses were all jangled and frayed. The hot tub would fix all that, the heat and Pete. That’s what I needed, but I wasn’t going to get it.
 

Copper One’s exercise room was empty. No surprise there. Who went on a ski vacation and spent their time on a Stairmaster anyway? I walked through the small room, took off my robe, and hung it on a treadmill railing. The hot tub beyond the glass wall and door was steaming like Nancy’s pot. I couldn’t see Pete but the tub was huge and raised. I took a deep breath and opened the door. OMG. That was cold. Nothing like twelve degrees on bare skin. I slipped around on the iced-over concrete as I dashed for the steps. I ran up, kicked off my flip-flops and practically dove in. The heat shocked me more than the cold, but in a good way. All my muscles went loose and I was instantly exhausted. My hair curled in the steam and I wiped it from my eyes, realizing, quite unexpectedly, that I was alone. The huge tub was empty. That Pete. I hadn’t got another text from him and, if he’d dumped me for another broken limb, he was going to hear about it in a huge way.
 

I walked around the edge of the tub, up to my chest in roiling water, and settled on the other side with a good view of the door. What had Pete said? He’d meet me there or that he was already there? My mind was so mushy from the delicious heat enveloping me, I couldn’t remember. I definitely wasn’t getting out of the tub to retrieve my phone. Getting back inside after the hot tub was an experience you only want to do once a night what with the ice and frigidity.
 

I positioned myself in front of a jet and let it massage my aching lower back. My eyes were closed and my head thrown back when I heard a sound from high above the tub. The tinny sound of music coming out of a boom box. I could’ve used some music, but I wasn’t sure about the salsa they were playing. It was a little too energetic for me. The music got louder and I opened my eyes just in time to see a grey object fly over a condo’s railing on the third floor. I screamed and dove under the water. The box impacted behind my feet and there was a weird pop that echoed through the water. I burst up out of the water in the center of the tub, gasping and wiping my eyes. The shattered remains of a boom box floated in the water.
 

“What the hell!” I screamed. “Are you freaking crazy? There are people down here!”
 

Just then another object dropped into the tub with a little plunk. I couldn’t see what it was. And then another, this time a small portable TV the size of a toaster. I dove for the exit, screaming my head off and cursing like Uncle Morty when one of his
Star Wars
characters got offed.
 

There were more plops behind me, but I didn’t stop to look. Why did the tub have to be so big and deep? I lunged for the railing and heard a sort of whistling noise. I looked and saw a white microwave falling straight for me. I plunged backward and the microwave hit the water right where I’d been. There was screaming and it wasn’t just me. I went around the microwave, dashed to bits on the stairs, and hauled myself up on the side. I slipped and fell harder than I’d ever fallen on my rear. Good thing I’m so well-padded. I ran for the glass door, wrenched it open, and grabbed my robe. My hands were shaking so bad I couldn’t turn on my phone. The exercise room door flew open and my friends, the pom-pom ladies, ran in.
 

“Are you alright?” asked Purple Pom-Poms.
 

I stuttered.
 

She put my robe on my shaking body and wrapped her arms around me. “You’re okay. We’ve got you. Lisle has called 911.”
 

Lisle aka Pink Pom-Poms was looking through the glass wall and turned around to face us. “You know what? I think someone was trying to kill you.”
 

Chapter Twenty

I sat on the treadmill wrapped in blankets and watched two security guys fish appliance parts out of the hot tub. Lisle and Roberta, the pom-pom ladies, were answering Detective Carey’s questions. Basically, they knew nothing of any use. Their balcony overlooked the hot tub two doors down from the balcony where the appliances were thrown. The dividing wall blocked their view. Roberta had been mixing whiskey sours when she heard me screaming and then the two of them ran down.
 

Detective Carey had two patrolmen canvassing the other rooms with a view, but he looked doubtful about it. The condo in question was empty and they were trying to track down the renters. It looked like all the appliances had been taken from that room, given the empty spaces on the shelves. The door was intact and whoever did it had a keycard. The only thing I did learn was that Rory’s key to his condo was missing, presumably taken after the attack. At first, the cops didn’t even realize the key was gone because he had several door keys on his ring to his mother’s office, his father’s office, and their house. The officers also let it slip that Rory’s wallet was filled with cash and his credit cards. His attacker had taken nothing but the key and his bag with the cannabis oil.
 

“Mercy?” Detective Carey came over to me. “We don’t need you down here anymore. I’m going to take you back up to your condo.”
 

“No,” I said, surprising myself with the ferocity of my reply.
 

He glanced at Lisle and Roberta as if to get some insight into this mysterious reaction, but they were as surprised as I was. All I knew was that I didn’t want to go back to Nancy and Calvin. As nice as they were, they weren’t my family. I wanted my family, my people. I wanted Uncle Morty, Rodney, and especially Aaron. Aaron who never said a bad word. Aaron who brought chocolate to all occasions.
 

“Are you planning to stay here?” asked Detective Carey.

“I’ll go to my uncle Morty’s.”
 

“Why do you call him your uncle?”
 

I got to my feet in slow painful movements. My muscles has seized up in the chill of the exercise room. “It’s an honorary title. Morty is my father’s best friend.”
 

Lisle rubbed my back. “Is there anything we can do?”

“I don’t think so, but you’ve helped me three times now. If you ever need an investigation done, call Tommy Watts of St. Louis and mention this trip. My dad will take care of you,” I said, hugging both Lisle and Roberta.

“You’re a private investigator?” asked Roberta. “That explains a lot.”
 

“I wish it did,” said Detective Carey. “Good night, ladies and thanks for your help.”
 

We walked out to the elevator and the good detective kept his hand on my elbow. I guess he thought I might keel over from shock and he wasn’t that off base. I was light-headed and the hallway felt like a tunnel.
 

“So I take it this kind of thing has never happened to you before,” he said.
 

“Having appliances launched at my head?” I asked.
 

“It’s pretty safe to assume that’s a first. No, I meant someone trying to kill you. We have people you can speak to about this. It can have lasting effects.” His voice was low and gentle as if talking to a skittish horse.
 

I chuckled and leaned on his arm. “Hardly.”

“This has happened before?”
 

“It’s not an everyday occurrence but yes.”
 

“People have tried to kill you?”
 

“Yes. It’s not even the first time on this trip,” I said, stepping into the elevator.
 

Detective Carey forgot to walk for a second and I ended up dragging him inside. “What did I miss?”
 

“You didn’t miss anything. We just mistook the target.”
 

He groaned and craned his neck back. “Nina Symoan. That was meant for you.”
 

“Afraid so. We both look like Marilyn and our ski outfits are very similar. Black pants and purple jackets. Our skis are the Rossignols in white. We would be easy to confuse.”
 

“So maybe there isn’t a connection to DBD. That would make my life easier,” said Detective Carey.
 

“You’re forgetting the cannabis that Rory was carrying for Mickey. It’s still missing. I think they wanted to keep that medication away from Mickey.”
 

He nodded. “To stop Mickey’s treatment. Sounds like Wade Cave to me.”
 

“Doesn’t he have an alibi?”

“He was asleep.”
 

“Alone?” I asked.
 

“What do you think?”
 

“Which girl?”
 

“Jessie something, but she was asleep, too.”
 

The elevator opened and we walked down the hall past Rory’s still taped off condo.
 

“Well, it wasn’t Wade that hit Nina. He’s too big. Darren fits. He wants the band back together in a huge way and Mickey’s the holdout.”
 

“What makes you say that?” asked Detective Carey. “When I interviewed Darren he was neutral on the band’s reunion.”
 

“He’s not neutral. Not even close. He threatened me,” I said.
 

We stopped in front of Uncle Morty’s door.

“What did he say exactly?”

“Basically that he needed the reunion and that I better shut up and color,” I said.
 

Detective Carey took off his hat and ran his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair. “I can see why Darren would attack Rory, if getting Mickey’s oil was his goal, but you and Kera? I don’t see the connection. Tell me everything that happened when Darren threatened you.”