Double Black Diamond (Mercy Watts Mysteries) (35 page)

“Beer.”
 

“What, a whole six-pack? She makes me look like a heavyweight.”
 

“Tablespoon,” said Aaron.
 

“You gave her a tablespoon of beer? What the hell kind of beer was it? Colt 45?”
 

“Winter Warlock.”
 

“Oh my god. That’s an oatmeal stout. How could you?” I asked.

“She liked it.”
 

“Of course she did. She’s a dog. They’ll eat anything and frequently do. If this dog dies, I’m going to hunt you down and beat you to death with your own spatula.” I hung up, squatted, and poked the pug.
 

Yip.
 

“Don’t you want to bite me? I’m right here. Look, my ankles are bare. Prime target.”
 

Nothing.
 

Oh, lord. I’ll be good mostly. Please don’t let Wallace die.

I called my vet in St. Louis. I had him saved into my phone because even though Skanky wasn’t a dog, he’d been known to eat things like toilet paper and plastic wrap.
 

Dr. Calderón answered, probably because I was such a good customer with an idiot cat. I paced while explaining the situation and when he stopped laughing he told me that Wallace would be fine. That a tablespoon wasn’t enough to kill her and I should just keep an eye on her in case she got worse. I hung up and looked at the ceiling. Thank you, Lord.
 

Then I heard something behind me. A little clicking on the tile. I turned. Wallace was on her feet. She lunged and got me right on the big toe.
 

“Ahhhh!” I screeched. “I didn’t really mean you should bite me.”
 

Growl.
 

I tried to grab her, but the loose tee made her slippery and I fell on my unbruised hip. I got my hands around her tubby body and yanked. It was like trying to pull off a too-small boot.
 

A knock on the door. “Mercy?” asked Pete. “Are you okay?”
 

“She’s biting me!”
 

The door swung open and cracked me right in the head. I fell over in a daze. Long legs went over my body. Pete smacked Wallace on the snout and she let go. He booted her out of the bathroom and pulled me upright.
 

“My hero,” I said, rubbing my temple.
 

“Sorry about the door.”
 

“It’s okay. Par for the course when it comes to me. I’m surprised it didn’t fall off the hinges and squash me.”
 

He tucked my hair behind my ears. “You have to punch her in the snout like a shark.”
 

“An apt analogy.”
 

My toe had two rows of little bloody tooth marks. One on the top and one on the bottom. The swelling had started. Pete got out his little med kit he carried with him, sterilized the wound, and wrapped it in gauze.
 

“Your latest war wound,” he said.
 

“That is going to make the stupidest scar.”
 

Calvin peeked in, holding Wallace. She snarled the second she saw me. “Everything okay?”
 

Pete helped me up. “Fine, Dad.”
 

“So are you going to tell us all about it?”
 

I wasn’t sure what Calvin was talking about. The dog biting me. The hot tub. My previous murder attempts. With me it could really be anything.
 

“Um…”
 

“How big was the microwave? Are you okay? Any shrapnel wounds?”

I smiled. “Medium sized. I’m fine and no shrapnel. Maybe just a tiny coronary.”
 

“Don’t just stand there, boy. Get the lady into her PJs and she can tell her tale,” said Calvin.
 

I hopped to the bedroom past Nancy who was ladling out a huge bowl of soup for me. “I can’t wait to hear about everything.”
 

“It’s not that exciting,” I said, down-playing as much as possible. It was exciting but only for about thirty seconds, which makes for a short story. I put on my PJs and hopped back out. Calvin settled me on the sofa and put the bowl in my lap. It smelled atrocious like the kind of thing you’d find in the back of your refrigerator after two months.
 

“Do you have any whiskey?” I asked.
 

“I have Tullamore Dew,” he said.
 

“My dad’s favorite.”
 

“Did you hear that, Nancy? My whiskey is Tommy Watts’s favorite.”

“I heard. That’s pretty awesome. You’ll have to tell Sam Hanson. You know how he is about detectives.”
 

I raised an eyebrow at Pete and he shrugged. Calvin got me a glass of whiskey and I took a good slug before sampling the soup. With the whiskey on board is was…not terrible, not good, but mostly taste-free, which in a way made it good.
 

Nancy came in and perched on the easy chair. “What do you think?” She’d never asked me before and that was a little scary.
 

“Tastes like my great-grandma’s soup,” I said.
 

“Oh, good. I’m glad you like it.”
 

Sometimes assumptions are a good thing. Then Calvin and Nancy peppered me with questions about the hot tub. Color was high in their cheeks. I’d only seen them that focused on a black run.
 

“So what has Pete been telling you?” I asked.
 

“That you’re Tommy Watts’s daughter,” said Calvin. “I looked him up. He’s worked with the FBI. Do you know any profilers?”
 

“I met Gavin de Becker a couple of years ago.”
 

“Oh my god,” said Nancy. “I read his book,
The Gift of Fear.
Did you read that? You should.”
 

“I read the academic papers he based his work on. Dad made me.”
 

“That is amazing. What a life you’ve led. It’s just like an episode of
Dateline
,” said Nancy.
 

“You watch
Dateline
?” I asked.
 

“No, but my friend, Mary Alice, does. She is just going to go wild when I tell her about you. I can tell her, right?”
 

“Go crazy.”
 

Calvin held up the bottle of Tullamore Dew. “More of the good stuff?”
 

“Just a little.”
 

He gave me a splash more and I ate the rest of my soup. It was actually tasty after a glass of whiskey.
 

“How many autopsies have you seen?” asked Calvin.
 

“What in the world did Pete tell you?” I asked.
 

“Enough that I was able to look up your cases,” said Calvin.
 

I gave Nancy my empty bowl and she offered a muffuletta sandwich. Hallelujah! I ate the heavenly Italian sandwich from my mother’s native New Orleans. The cappicola was perfection. It was almost like being with family, except nobody was yelling at me. We spent the rest of the evening going over the details of Lucia Fibonacci’s near-death experiences and mine until I fell asleep sitting up with Wallace on my lap. All was forgiven in her puny dog mind. At least until she woke up.

Chapter Twenty-Two

My phone woke me at eight o’clock. It didn’t wake Pete, who snorted and buried his face in his pillow. I rolled out of bed, much less gracefully than I wanted and landed with a thump on the plush carpeting. If anything my muscles were worse. If I didn’t have to think straight, I would’ve seriously considered taking one of the Norcos I brought with me. I never left home without a good supply of painkillers and antibiotics. You never know when and who will need them, but I wasn’t a fan of the distant feeling narcotics gave me. Our time in Copper was growing short. I’d just have to deal with the pain. Keegan sure was.
 

It was Nina on my recall. I slipped out of the bedroom in hopes of making it to the bathroom unobserved. I should’ve known better. Five feet from the bathroom the sound of tiny evil erupted behind me. I ran for it. Well, as much as I could run. It was more of a fast hobble to be honest. My toe was swollen to twice its size. I slammed the door and caught Wallace in her middle. She yelped, but it gave me the chance to make it into the tub while she yapped at the porcelain.
 

“I’m too fast for you, stumpy,” I said. “Go bite your butt.”
 

Bark.
 

“I know your weakness. Winter Warlock. Two tablespoons and it’s over.”

Bark.
 

I called Nina back and she wanted to meet at everybody’s favorite, the Belgian Bean. I agreed, but I didn’t know how I was going to get out of signing any contract. I would’ve stalled, but I had a few new questions to ask. I grabbed a towel off the shelf and held it out like a matador does with a bull. Wallace snorted and paced back and forth. Very bull-like.
 

“I’m leaving,” I said. “Snort all you want.”
 

Bark.
 

“No waffles for you.”
 

“Mercy, is that you?” Nancy said through the door.

Ah crap!

“It’s me. Wallace has me trapped in the tub.” Pride? Nope. None for me.
 

Nancy opened the door and shook her finger at Wallace, who promptly sat and did her adorable pug smile that won hearts wherever she went. Not my heart, you understand. Mine was getting harder every day. I told Nancy I had a craving for a latte and would be back in a minute. She nodded absentmindedly from inside the fridge. I got dressed and almost made it out the door when she wheeled around. “No, you can’t.”
 

“Why not?” I asked, casual like no one was trying to kill me or anything.
 

“You’re a murder victim.”
 

“Not yet.”
 

She put her hand on her chest. “Don’t even joke about that, Mercy.”
 

“Sorry, but I doubt anyone is lying in wait at the Belgian Bean.”
 

“I can’t let you go. What if something happened?”
 

I held up my taser. “I’m armed.”
 

“Is that an electric razor?” she asked.
 

“Taser. Anyone gets near me, I’ll shock them until they drool.” I would’ve said shit, but it was Nancy.
 

“I suppose that’s okay, but I’d feel better if you took Wallace. She bites.”
 

Don’t I know it.
 

So it was me and Wallace once again heading for the Belgian Bean on a chilly morning. I limped out of Copper One’s resident’s door and breathed in the icy air. Refreshing after the overheated condo. Wallace sat on her curly tail and panted up at me.
 

“No way, sister,” I said. “You’re walking.”
 

We took off to the left, painfully slow and I suspect somewhat pathetic. I was limping and Wallace was decked out in her booties. We were collecting snickers along the path. The Belgian Bean never seemed so far away and for once I would’ve liked to have had someone to lean on. Maybe not Aaron. Too early for the hot dog smell. Fergus would be good though, but he’d taken Kera to work after she slept on our couch again. Fergus relished the idea of being her protector, although I thought of him more as a witness. Whoever set fire to Rory’s condo wasn’t interested in having one of those.
 

The Belgian Bean was a warm haven at the end of a frosty trail and I needed a latte like I’d never needed one before. A man left the front door, looked to the left through the covered bridge and then to the right. He did a double take and headed toward me and Wallace with a purposeful pace I didn’t like at all.
 

“Ready to bite, Wallace?”
 

Bark.

I kept walking or hobbling, if you prefer. His face was down, obscured by the hood of a heavy fur-lined parka. My heart rate went up and I was nearly panting. Something was about to happen. The gift of fear is always right and you better listen to it. I reached in my pocket and switched on my taser. It hummed to life, building its charge.
 

The guy was positioned to pass to my left with at least a three-foot gap and I was right-handed. The situation wasn’t ideal. Wallace continued her march, but I could hear grumbling in her chest. She crossed my path, going over to my left side. She may have been a mini, but she was all dog.
 

He was five feet away. Three feet. His head was still down. Two. He jerked to his left and his hand shot out at my arm. Wallace lunged. He got me at the same time Wallace got him. He and I both screamed, but he started to drag me toward the space between two of the buildings. Hell, no. I yanked out my taser and zapped him on the wrist between his glove and cuff. He screeched and went down, twitching on the frosty bricks. Wallace still had a grip on his leg, but since they didn’t have skin-to-skin contact, she was unaffected and biting him for all she was worth.
 

His face turned towards me. Victor Mooting. The bastard was drooling, but the twitching was about over. I fought the urge to zap him again. It wouldn’t be sporting, but he so richly deserved it.
 

“Mercy!” Fergus ran up, panting. “What’s happening?”

“He tried to drag me off to the second location,” I said, feeling a wave of nausea.
 

“Is this American slang?”
 

“The second location just means he wanted to get me isolated so he could hurt me without witnesses.”
 

Fergus’s face got redder. “Yer bawz.”
 

“I don’t know what that is,” I said. “Take this.” I gave him the taser and showed him how to use it. Pretty simple; push button, cause incapacitation. I squatted next to the moaning Victor and gave him a sharp slap.
 

“If you do absolutely anything, he is going to zap you again. Get it?” I asked.
 

Victor did a slight nod.