Double Black Diamond (Mercy Watts Mysteries) (2 page)

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t absolutely desperate,” said Cecile. “It’s so bad. I think…I think he’s going to die.”
 

“What can I do?”
 

“You’re going to Colorado,” said Odetta. “When you told me, we came up with a plan, but it won’t work without you.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. Whenever someone came up with a plan for me, it was a bad thing.
 

“What do you want me to do?”
 

“Have you heard of Alice’s Answer?” asked Cecile.
 

Now I had it. Alice’s Answer was a cannabis oil being used to treat seizure disorders. It was only made in Colorado where it was legal.
 

“You want it for Keegan,” I said.
 

“It’s his only hope,” she said.
 

“I guess it is. What exactly do you want me to do?”
 

“It’s still illegal in Missouri. No one can import. It would take forever to get special approval, and we don’t have that kind of time. I can’t afford to move to Colorado. Keegan’s father, he left. He couldn’t handle it. The insurance isn’t covering Keegan’s care completely. There’s just no money, and I have two other kids to think of.”
 

“And bringing it across state lines is a crime, state and federal,” I said.

“Yes, but it’s his only hope. I don’t want to ask you, but…” Tears flowed out of Cecile’s eyes in a continuous stream.

“Why me?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
 

Cecile broke down and Philippa answered, “You’re going to Colorado. You’ll be right there.”

“And my dad is Tommy Watts.”
 

“If you were caught, he could get you out of it.”
 

“My dad’s a retired cop, that doesn’t make him the all-powerful Oz, although he thinks so.”
 

Cecile straightened up. “I can’t get caught. I’m the only parent they have left.”
 

“I’d do it,” said Odetta. “But I’ve got kids of my own. We need my income.”
 

“I offered,” said Philippa.
 

Cecile shook her head. “No. If you went to jail your mother couldn’t handle it.”
 

Philippa’s mom had early onset Alzheimer’s. When she was coherent, Philippa was the light of her life.
 

“And…you have the Bleds,” said Philippa.
 

I’d known Philippa since high school. She’d never once tried to use my connection to the Bled family for her own purposes and that was saying something. A lot of people had no such scruples. Myrtle and Millicent Bled were my godmothers and wealthy to the extent that most people couldn’t imagine. People were always contacting me trying to get to them. I knew how desperate the situation was if Philippa was willing to do it. I would’ve asked about other family members, but I imagined they would be in the same boat. Incomes were needed. Mothers and fathers were required. I, on the other hand, was single with an influential father and connected to one of the most powerful families in the state, if not the country. It had to be me. Plus, when Raptor found out, she would lose her damn mind. Raptor would owe me. It might be worth a stint in jail just for that alone. I didn’t know what my parents would say if I got caught, but I decided I didn’t care. Keegan wasn’t going to get brain damage, if I could help it. My parents would just have to deal.
 

“I’ll do it.”
 

Chapter Two

Our plan was simple. I’d go skiing at Copper Mountain, Colorado. Rory Dushane of Open Mind Medicinals would meet me there. He was the son of the founder and would be at Copper for snowboarding. The Dushanes weren’t crazy about breaking the law. Despite what people might think they’d always operated inside the boundaries. They produced only medical marijuana, special strains for cancer patients and other types of illnesses that traditional medicine failed to help.
 

Cecile said Rory would be easy to spot. He was eighteen, six foot with long purple hair. Rory would hand over a three-month supply that Cecile had already managed to pay for. How I got it back to St. Louis was my problem. The Dushane family didn’t want to know. They’d only been persuaded to do this after Keegan’s doctors called them and made it personal. I was surprised the team would plead for pot, but it was all they had left and the Dushanes agreed.
 

I stepped out into the icy morning air and tried to remember where I’d parked in the cavernous hospital parking garage. My mind was so full of this new situation and its implications, I just couldn’t remember and ended up wandering around for fifteen minutes until I accidentally ran into my red Chevy truck. My truck was vintage and cherry, a sixteenth birthday present from my dad that he thought would end up in his hands. He was wrong. I loved my truck and he was lucky he got to look at it from a distance.
 

The downside of an elderly truck was the lack of alarm or I would’ve found it much earlier. Now I was late. I had one thing to accomplish before heading to Colorado and if I didn’t get a move on I was going to miss it. My tires squealed as I peeled out of the garage headed to Laclede’s Landing, an historic area on the Mississippi with cobblestone streets and swanky restaurants and bars. I didn’t normally spend much time there, since it was expensive and I was cheap, but I’d been summoned. I usually don’t respond well to orders, but this one came from Spidermonkey, a hacker or as he liked to call himself, an information specialist. I’d hired Spidermonkey to research a family situation back in August after a particularly sleazy lawyer made insinuations that my father had done something illegal and that he was going to find out what it was.
 

It all happened because my godmothers, Myrtle and Millicent Bled, had a jerk nephew who was claiming they were incompetent. Brooks sued to get himself named their guardian and he tried to use my family to do it. He said that my parents and I had undue influence over the elderly sisters and they were too doddy to resist us. My godmothers, or The Girls, as everyone called them had made some kind of deal with my father the year before I was born. I’d never thought much about it until the lawsuit happened. The Girls had been a part of my life since the moment I was born. They’d given my parents a house on the exclusive Hawthorne Avenue. It was an expensive gift, and Brooks’s lawyer wanted to know why it was given, why The Girls had paid for my private education and had practically raised me in their mansion. The truth was I didn’t know. Dad wouldn’t say and I had always left it at that. We loved The Girls and they loved us. It seemed simple, only it wasn’t. The lawyers had uncovered the fact that our house had been given to my mother alone, and at the time, The Girls had never met her. Why did they do that? Why Mom and not Dad? There was also the question of Josiah Bled, The Girls uncle. He’d dropped off the face of the earth about the time we got our house. Brooks’s lawyer clearly thought my dad knew him and had something to do with his dropping out of sight. Josiah didn’t die, at least not so that you could tell. He was a famous man, a WWI flying ace and a spy during WWII, not to mention fabulously wealthy. One minute he was in St. Louis and the next he was gone and no one asked why. The papers didn’t cover it and the family never said a word to me about Josiah disappearing. I assumed he was dead. But he was just gone. Brooks’s lawyers leaked information to the St. Louis Police Department, and they’d started an internal investigation alleging that Dad had used his police connections to do something for The Girls for which they gave him entrance to the world of Hawthorne Avenue.
 

That investigation could’ve ruined my dad, the hint of impropriety would’ve been very bad for his excellent reputation. He was now a famed private investigator with clients all over the country. I managed to take care of Brooks and his lawyers in a way I wasn’t exactly proud of, but it was done for the best and the police weren’t looking at Dad anymore. They seemed happy to let it drop when the lawsuit went away.
 

Spidermonkey had been working for me ever since. He was supposed to find out everything he could about the time that The Girls gave my mom the house and what happened to Josiah Bled by doing extensive record searches. It’d been over three months since he started and since then I had only the most basic of updates from him. He said he was making progress and I tried to remain patient. It was obvious that whatever happened wouldn’t be easy to uncover and Spidermonkey was the best at what he did. Whatever it was, I had to know. I’m naturally nosy like my parents, but it was more than that. I’d gotten Brooks off our backs, but how long would it last? We had to be ready and my parents acted like nothing had changed, but for me everything had.
 

I parked on a side street and turned up the collar on my wool pea coat. The wind whipped down the street and snatched at the thin material on my legs as I ran through the cobblestoned streets of Laclede’s Landing until I found tiny Café Déjeuner tucked in between two larger restaurants with white starched tablecloths behind their plate glass windows. I flung open the door and found the cafe quite empty, except for a barista behind the counter and a white-haired old man sitting at a small table reading
The Wall Street Journal
in front of the roaring fire in the enormous fireplace. I took off my beret and checked my phone. No messages and I was only five minutes late. Surely Spidermonkey didn’t dump me over five measly minutes.
 

“Can I help you?” asked the barista.
 

“Yes. I’d like a double latte and …” I looked through the antique glass case at dozens of fresh pastries, all glistening with sugar and butter. “What do you recommend?”
 

“The eggnog cinnamon rolls are to die for,” she said with a smile.
 

“One of those then.” I handed over my debit card and then texted Spidermonkey.
 

Please be running late. Please be running late.

“I’m here. Whr r u?” I typed.
 

My phone dinged.

“I’m here.”
 

“Whr?”
 

“Fire.”
 

I turned slowly and found the old guy smiling at me. He waved and I stared. WTF. Spidermonkey was a member of AARP? No way. This had to be a joke. I walked over, wondering where the camera was that was undoubtedly recording my stupidity.
 

“Sit down, Miss Watts,” he said in a honeyed Southern accent, South Carolina unless I was mistaken.
 

“Seriously?” I asked.

“Not what you were expecting?”
 

“Not quite.”
 

“I’m nothing like your uncle Morty, but the obese sweatpants look is overdone in my opinion.” He smiled and pointed at the chair. I sat down. I think my mouth was hanging open. He knew Uncle Morty personally. That was a surprise. Morty was Spidermonkey’s biggest competitor. He did all the work for my dad in investigations and I would’ve asked him to look into the house, except that he already knew the truth and wasn’t going to tell me.
 

The barista brought my latte and cinnamon roll. It smelled like Christmas, but I felt like Halloween when you never knew who was behind the mask.
 

“How do I know you’re really Spidermonkey?” I asked.
 

“I’m your cousin Chuck’s connection, if that helps. He’s seen me in person, one of the few that has. Call him. He’ll vouch.”
 

I sipped my latte and considered it. Chuck was my cousin by marriage and a huge pain in the ass. He was also a police detective and loyal to my dad. I didn’t want him to know what I was up to. He’d recently shown me some loyalty by keeping my first contact with Spidermonkey secret, but that was another case, and I didn’t expect the same thing to happen twice.
 

“You haven’t informed Chuck that you’re working for me?” I asked.

“You asked me not to.” Spidermonkey smoothed his lime green sweater and adjusted his gold cuff links. How was this guy a hacker?

“You told Chuck what I was up to in Honduras.”
 

“This case intrigues me and getting one over on Morty has its appeal, so I kept your confidence.”

“Who are you?” I asked.

“You mean how am I in this line of work?”

“Exactly.”
 

“I retired about ten years ago. I was a stockbroker with an interest in the internet. I learned how to use it to my clients’ advantage and I was very good at finding information that companies didn’t want me to know. After I retired my beloved wife threatened to kill me if I didn’t find something to do and I became Spidermonkey. Are you ready to hear what I have to say?”
 

“Is it bad?” I asked, wincing.
 

“Does it matter?”
 

“No. Go ahead.”
 

“In my opinion the deal between the Bleds and your father was completely off the books. It was a verbal agreement with no paper trail. I know you’re worried about Brooks Bled finding out what the deal was. But I couldn’t find any evidence, so there’s no chance he will.”
 

“Uncle Morty hid some paperwork from me. There is something,” I said.
 

“Not about the deal. Your father’s a brilliant man. He didn’t commit it to paper or computer. I’m certain of this.”

“Where did you look?”
 

He sipped his black coffee and smiled. “Everywhere. Morty had quite a firewall built around your parents and The Girls, but I got through it. Just a matter of time. I believe the paperwork is travel-related.”
 

“Why?” I asked.

“Because Tommy Watts took a three-week vacation during the time the house was signed over to your mother.”
 

“Any trace of where he went?

“No public transport. He may have driven or…”

“Or?”

“A private plane took off from Lambert on the first day of his vacation.”