Double Black Diamond (Mercy Watts Mysteries) (41 page)

“I will. How did you get her to tell you where it was?” he asked, standing up with the bag in his big hands.
 

“I tasered her,” I said.
 

He shook his head. “You’re not even going to try and hide it.”
 

“You’re going to find out. Why bother? She was going after Wade Cave like she did me. She’s lucky I didn’t ram her into a tree.”
 

“I’d say you’re the lucky one.”
 

“She punched me and cracked me in the head with a tree branch, does that make you feel better?” I asked.
 

“It does actually. You have a defense. The split lip will help.”
 

“What about saving Wade? Isn’t that helpful?”
 

He closed the locker. “Was he in imminent danger?”
 

“I’m going with yes,” I said.
 

We pushed our way past the bench, but the kids had not thinned out. There were even more, louder and more obnoxious. They made me glad I’d chosen nursing over teaching. Inserting a catheter didn’t seem so bad in comparison. In the end, Detective Carey flashed his badge and threatened to arrest the little nose-miners for disturbing the peace. You’d be surprised how fast a path cleared.
 

Outside there were about six sirens wailing and I spotted a group of cops at the base of the hill next to the American Eagle lift. They all had their hands on their service weapons and it only took a second to figure out why. Jessie was coming down the hill between two ski patrol guys. Every time she turned she took a swing at them and was coming in way too fast.
 

We stopped behind the cops and waited. It was kind of like watching a slow motion accident. I couldn’t look away.
 

“Do you think she’s on something?” asked Detective Carey.
 

“I think she’s crazy,” I said.

“What did she tell you about why she did it?”
 

“She was trying to protect Mickey from Wade.” I told him about what had happened on the hill and how I put it together. The red and black pattern on Jessie’s snowboard and the tattoo, JDS.
 

“You were lucky,” said Detective Carey.

“Very and more than once.”
 

Jessie reached the bottom of the hill, released her boots in a flash, and tried to make a run for it. Like I said. Crazy. The cops were on her in a split second. We watched as she bit, spit, kicked, and cursed. She kept her clothes on. I knew from experience that’s not a given. In the end, the officers had to taser her before they could cuff her.
 

“Makes me look more reasonable, doesn’t it?” I grinned at Detective Carey.
 

“I wouldn’t go that far, but I probably won’t charge you with assault.”
 

“I’ll take it.”
 

A mug appeared in front of me. Aaron stood there, wearing an apron made for a cook three times his size and a fat fur hat with earflaps. I took the mug and sniffed. Hot chocolate with peppermint schnapps just like my dad made. Well, just like my dad if he also made homemade marshmallows and dipped them in dark chocolate to perch on the thick dollop of cream on top. I’ve never needed anything more than I needed those marshmallows. Chocolate and sugar cures all.
 

“You always know,” I said.
 

“I do,” said Aaron.
 

That’s when Wallace came around his leg, squatted on my left boot, and peed.
 

“There’s something wrong with your dog,” said Detective Carey.
 

I rolled my eyes. “Go ahead and pee, stink dog. It’s plastic and I couldn’t care less.”
 

Bark.
 

“You’re not bringing that dog with you to the station,” said Detective Carey.
 

Aaron handed me Wallace’s leash and trotted off.

“I think I am,” I said.
 

“She’s peeing on your other boot now.”
 

Wallace had moved over and was peeing on my other boot’s buckles. Gag.

The cops dragged Jessie past us and stuffed her in the back of a squad car. Then they leaned against the door and wiped their sweaty brows. It was a toasty eighteen degrees, but that’s no match for a heated battle with an angry girl.
 

“Let’s go, Miss Watts.” Detective Carey turned away from the squad cars and headed back into the village.
 

“Are you kidding?” I asked. “Where’s your car?”

“On the other side of the bridge. Traffic blocked me.”
 

I groaned. More walking in my ski boots was the last thing I wanted. “I’d rather go with Jessie and she bites.”
 

“You’re with me and this time you’re going to tell me the whole story,” he said.
 

I batted my eyelashes. “I don’t know what you mean.”
 

“You’re going to tell me. I don’t care if I have to keep you in interrogation for forty-eight hours.”
 

“Good luck with that.” I tromped away with Wallace by my side. She was looking up at me with big brown eyes. If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve thought she loved me.
 

“I’ll give you bacon if you pee on him,” I said.
 

Bark. Bark.
 

Detective Carey ran to catch up with me. “What did you say to that dog?

“Nothing that concerns you.”
 

“I don’t believe you,” he said.
 

“Join the club.”

Wallace walked sideways, giving Detective Carey’s fancy stitched cowboy boots the stink eye.

“Why is she looking at me like that?”
 

I smiled. “Maybe she loves you.”
 

He turned and kept a decent distance between himself and the peeing machine. “I don’t think that’s it.”
 

Me either.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Miss Watts.” Someone shook my shoulder and none too gently either. “Miss Watts.”

I sat up bleary-eyed and left a dollop of drool on the table. Not my best look. I guess Detective Carey agreed, if I went by the way he was watching me.
 

“More questions?” I asked.
 

“You can go,” he said.
 

I glanced at my phone lying next to the drool. “Seriously? What happened to keeping me in here until I crack? It’s been two hours.”
 

Detective Carey dropped into the chair opposite me, took off his hat, ran his fingers through his hair, and settled it back on his head. “It’s been a long two hours.”
 

“Not for me.” I smiled and scratched Wallace’s belly. She was in her donut on my lap, snoring.
 

“I’ve never had a suspect sleep in interrogation before. Even the innocent sweat in here.”
 

“I’m a suspect?” I asked.
 

“I don’t know what you are.”

“Aren’t you obliged to figure it out?”
 

He did the hat thing again. “You want to stay?”
 

“Not particularly, but I’m curious. Why are we done? I haven’t told you a thing,” I said.
 

“Your uncle Morty is outside. He’s been talking to me,” said Detective Carey with a tiredness I understood. Uncle Morty often talked to me and it was a wearing experience.
 

“Sorry. Family is like that.” I put Wallace on the floor. She shook and disappeared under the table.
 

“
Your
family is like that. He’s threatening to call the governor. Does your father actually know the governor?”
 

“Beats me, but I wouldn’t be surprised.” I stood up and stretched. “So we’re good? Jessie did it. I acted in defense of another’s life. Great.”
 

“Except for Keegan,” said Detective Carey, suddenly sharp but trying to hide it.
 

“Who’s Keegan?” I asked, my stomach twisted into a knot, but years of my dad’s interrogations over boys and booze had prepared me well and it didn’t show.
 

“You’ll have to tell me. According to Jessie, there were six more bottles in Rory Dushane’s bag. They were labeled Keegan and now they’re gone. Any idea where they went?”
 

“Nope. It had six bottles for Mickey when I found it.”
 

“I believe Jessie,” he said.
 

“You believe the nut who tried to kill Rory, me, and Wade Cave? I don’t even know what to say to that.”
 

Detective Carey stood up and leaned over, his fingers pyramiding on the table. “You didn’t just accidentally meet Rory Dushane the night Jessie stabbed him. I never believed that.”
 

I shrugged. “Why don’t you ask Rory’s dad? He’d know if there was more bottles in that bag.”
 

Detective Carey gritted his teeth. “I did. He says Mickey’s were the only bottles Rory was delivering.”
 

“Then problem solved. Jessie’s just winding you up.” I went for the door and then remembered the stink dog. “Wallace, time to go.”
 

The pug waddled out from under the table looking quite pleased with herself. I picked her up, flipped my hair back, and sashayed out. That’s right. I sashayed, swinging hips and all. Forty-eight hours indeed. I was Tommy Watts’s daughter. I’d been interrogated by the best.
 

“Ah shit!” exclaimed Detective Carey behind me.
 

I kissed Wallace’s head. “Good dog.”
 

Bark.
 

I found Uncle Morty sitting at Detective Carey’s desk giving his laptop keys a good pounding. He didn’t look up.
 

“They’re releasing me,” I said.
 

“You ain’t been under arrest,” he said, turning his screen towards me. “Check it out.”
 

I scanned the medical chart from the University of Arizona medical center. “Jessie’s a schizophrenic. Are you going to tell Carey?”
 

“Keep reading,” said Uncle Morty.
 

The notes were detailed and dated starting from two years earlier. Jessie had started exhibiting symptoms her freshman year at college. Nothing violent. Erratic behavior, paranoia, and delusions. She was hospitalized multiple times after going off her meds because she believed she was better. The delusions were where it got interesting. Jessie believed she was Cliff of Double Black Diamond’s daughter, that Wade Cave had murdered her father, and that he was going to murder her uncle, Mickey Stix. Jessie was seriously ill, but I could see how she started with the idea. The doctor noted that Cliff was named as her father on her birth certificate. Jessie’s mother obviously didn’t know Cliff because she didn’t even use his real name. She used Cliff. She’d sued Mickey’s brother over paternity before he died and Mickey after the fact. The judge threw the case out both times. Eventually, the mother told Jessie the truth, but it was too late. Even on the meds, Jessie’s delusion remained entrenched. She’d been released six months ago after intense psychotherapy where she denied her delusions and agreed to take her meds. Her doctor doubted her sincerity and thought therapy had only taught her to hide in plain sight, but couldn’t keep her as an inpatient after her mother’s insurance had run out. The last note said that Jessie had disappeared and her mother had had no contact with her in three months.
 

“Mercy,” said Nina from behind me. I turned and she hugged me fiercely. “Are you okay?”
 

“I’m fine, but I’d love to get these damn boots off,” I said.
 

Mickey hugged me and behind him stood the rest of DBD. Wade looking abashed and Darren wary.
 

“I didn’t know she was crazy,” said Wade.

“When did you meet her?” I asked.
 

“About five months ago at the coffee shop near my house.” Wade shook his head. “She was hot. I had no idea she hated me.”
 

I glanced at Uncle Morty and he shrugged. “She’s delusional. She thinks Cliff was her father and that you murdered him.”
 

They all gaped at me.

“But that’s not possible,” said Mickey.
 

Detective Carey came out of interrogation with a wet cowboy boot and frown. “Where did you get that information?”
 

Uncle Morty snapped his laptop closed. “She guessed. She’s a good guesser.”
 

Two uniforms brought Jessie out from another interrogation room. She seemed perfectly normal until she saw Mickey. “Run! Run away! He’s the one! He did it! Uncle Mickey, run! He wants to drug you and kill you!” She twisted in the officer’s hand and went down on her knees, screaming. They dragged her across the room and down a hallway toward the holding cells, screaming and crying the whole way. “I love you! I’ll save you! Run!”
 

Nina began crying into Mickey’s shoulder and Wade looked stunned.
 

“Maybe if we’d gone public,” said Mickey.
 

“Public with what?” asked Detective Carey.

Mickey looked at me.
 

“It’s going to come out,” I said. “Do it on your terms.”

“Cliff and I had mumps when we were young. The disease made us sterile. I’d appreciate it if you’d let us release this in our own way.”

Detective Carey nodded. “I understand. Mr. Cave, I need to take your statement.” He gestured to a desk and Wade sat down more obediently than I ever would’ve expected. I think it was the shock that he’d been sleeping with a mental patient who wanted to kill him. Who could blame him really?

“I guess that’s it for us,” I said. “Uncle Morty, I could use a hot tub and a stiff drink. Got any schnapps?”
 

He snorted and said, “What’d you think?”

I laughed and started for the exit when Darren snagged my arm. “Nina told me that you signed the agreement.”
 

His face was uncomfortably close to mine, but for the first time he wasn’t snarling at me. “I did.”