Touch and Go (A Mercy Watts Short) (3 page)

“What are you saying? Evan’s dead.”

“I don’t doubt it. I think this man is using your husband’s identity.”

“Why would anyone do that?”

“To perpetrate crimes and not have them traced back to him.”

“Oh, God.”

“Could I see a picture of your husband?”

She pulled out a photo album from a drawer in her dining room hutch and handed it to me.
 

“We were only married two years. He’s in practically every picture.”

I opened the album and sure enough he was. The real Evan Sorbeck had been an athletic, blond man with a wide smile. He was surrounded by people in nearly every photo. Christina was in a lot of the photos, a slim Christina with no extra skin and a ready smile herself.
 

I showed Christina the picture of Claire’s Evan. “Have you ever seen this man?”

“No. Is that him? He doesn’t look anything like Evan.”

“I doubt he has his character either.” Her face pulled down into what could have been an ugly cry, but she pulled out of it just in time.

“Thanks. Evan was a great guy. Everybody loved him. When he died...” Her sparkle faded for a moment.

“I’m sorry to bring this up for you. Thanks for helping me. If you can think of anything that might help me, please call.”

Christina took my card. I never expected to hear from her, but I did. She called the next morning to tell me that a woman had come looking for Evan about a year after his death. She had been shocked to hear he was dead and had argued the point with her. Christina couldn’t recall the woman’s name, but remembered seeing her working in a bank in St. Sebastian. I spent the rest of my Sunday cleaning, grocery shopping and playing referee to Skanky and Pick. I didn’t want to drive back to St. Seb, but I had no choice. Claire did a stellar job on the transcription and I owed her.

By the time I’d gotten ready to go, I’d about talked myself out of the trip. What did I really owe Claire? I’d spent hours in pursuit of Evan and plenty of mileage. Sure she’d done the transcription, but, hey, I’d done more than the cops. If she made another complaint, they’d follow my lead and, hopefully, find Evan. That was pretty good, wasn’t it? Not bad for an amateur, if I did say so myself.
 

I kicked off my shoes and turned on the TV. I needed to call my coordinator. I was a PRN nurse, which meant I filled in when hospitals or offices were short. It was a good deal. I worked three or four times a week depending on my financial needs. I called and she wanted me to work Peds the next day. I was always getting called for Peds. I’d been told that I was good with kids and I guess word got around. I didn’t think I was good. Kids were forever screaming and puking around me. I’d have taken a pass, but I needed the money. Since I’d been chasing Evan, three workdays had gone by. I needed Christmas money.
 

I settled in for the day, made a note to call Claire, and started streaming
Devil in a Blue Dress
. Love that Denzel Washington. Midway through, my mother called.

“Hello.”

“Oh Mercy, I’m so glad you’re home, honey,” she said in her sweetest I-want-something tone.

“Hi Mom.”

“How are you doing?”

“Fine.”

“Well, we are having a spectacular time. It’s warm and beautiful. We’ve been having the best seafood. Your father almost has a tan.”

“Really?” My father was a redhead with the typical fair skin that went with it.
 

“Almost. How’s the weather there?”

“Fine.”

“You’re not very talkative.”

“Uh huh.”

“Are you busy, dear?”
 

Here it came. Busy means: if you’re not having surgery, we want you to do something. “Sort of.”

“Is that Denzel I hear?”
 

Crap. I should’ve turned the volume down, but then she would’ve sensed the movie. Mom had the seventh sense, the what’s-my-daughter-really-doing sense. It worked through telephone lines and closed doors. Occasionally, I didn’t even have to speak.

“Fine. I’m not busy.”

“Working tonight?”

Audible groan.

“Mercy. It would not kill you to help out.”

“Let’s not test the theory.”

“It’s for the family.”

“What family?”

“Ours, of course. Don’t be difficult.”

“Me difficult?”

Mom sighed and sipped on something. Probably a pink, fruity drink with a paper umbrella. I looked out the window at the cloudy sky threatening me with more sleet. I was not in a mood to be helpful.

“You know we don’t ask much.”

“Right. Not at all.”

“If you’re going to be like that, I’ll have your father contract someone.”

“Can’t Uncle Morty or one of Dad’s actual detectives do it?”

“Ned and Cecilia are out of town. Denny’s busy. Mort’s on vacation.”

Uncle Morty was my honorary uncle and my father’s best friend. He was an all-around computer nerd and hacker. He likes neither of those monikers. Morty on vacation meant he turned off all his phones and refused to communicate with anyone or go anywhere for three days. He was my last chance.

“What is it?” I tried to sound as displeased as possible without whacking the phone on the counter.

“We followed Stevie from the Keys to Miami, but he hopped a plane before we could get to him. He’s on his way home.”

“Here? He’s coming here?”

“I know it’s unbelievable, even for Stevie, but he’s on flight 210 United. It arrives at noon.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Well, you know Stevie.”

Yes, I knew Stevie. Mom was his father’s legal secretary and I’d known him all his life. He was a normal kid, if by normal you mean stupid. All in all, he was likable and problem free for a while. Mom quit working for Crown Legal when Dad retired from the police force and opened his agency. She still filled in when his new secretary was ill or on vacation. Big Steve sent Dad a lot of business over the years and was the first pick when his son started to get in trouble. When Stevie was fifteen, he contracted a raging case of gonorrhea. Dad was hired to track down all the girls Stevie had sex with and inform them that they’d been exposed. It wasn’t exactly a thrilling way to get paid, but Dad felt he was obligated to Big Steve.
 

Next Stevie robbed the neighbors. Only Stevie would steal from people then try to sell them back their own DVD players. Dad tracked down the stolen articles and returned them. After that, drugs came into the picture and there were a couple of disappearances. Stevie stole a few cars and generally made a nuisance of himself. Between Dad and Big Steve, his record was kept clean. Still, it was hard to picture Stevie as a criminal. He seemed confused when people were upset with him. Mostly, I thought he was out for a good time and things got out of hand. The way things do when you don’t have two brain cells to rub together.
 

“So you want me to nab Stevie at the airport.”

“If you don’t mind.”

Mind. Please. Of course I minded. I could’ve stayed curled up under a quilt with Denzel for the rest of the day, but no.

“How am I supposed to get him? It’s not like he doesn’t know me.”

“You’ll think of something. Just don’t hurt him.”

“Define hurt.”

“Don’t shoot him.”

“Like I’d really shoot him, Mother.”

“Well, I know he irritates you.”

“A lot of people irritate me, but I haven’t shot anyone yet.”

“Glad to hear it. Take him to the office. Under no circumstances take him to Olivia.”

Olivia was Stevie’s mother. She doted on her only son and was convinced he was misunderstood. I liked Olivia, but how much evidence do you need?

“Like I’d do that.”

“Well, you know he’s gotten girls to do stupid things before.”

“Are you saying that you think Stevie Crown can fast-talk me?”

She started laughing and told Dad what I said. I could hear him chuckle in the background. Mom was still laughing when we hung up. I wasn’t laughing. Stevie was six four and I was five two. I’d have to outsmart him. That wouldn’t be difficult, but I only had two hours to work out a plan and get to the airport.

What I needed was a partner, but all my usual picks were busy. My boyfriend Pete was working yet another shift in the ER. My best friend Carly was a dim possibility. Carly could be counted on for hosting teas, shopping, and pep talks. Nabbing wayward young criminals wasn’t her bag. I wasn’t even sure she knew how to lie. No, Carly was out. There was Chuck, but he might take a dim view of not arresting Stevie and he still wasn’t answering my calls. Plus, I didn’t want him thinking we were even for Pick. What I needed was a woman. A good-looking woman with flexible morals and time to kill. Claire. She owed me. No, wait a minute, I owed her or were we even? If she did it, I’d definitely owe her. Then I’d have to finish with Evan. There was no way around it.

I called Claire at home. She was also, I suspect, watching Denzel. “Claire, it’s Mercy. Are you busy?”

“No. Did you find him?”

“Ah, no, but I have an excellent lead. I’m going to follow it tomorrow. I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

“Sure, anything. I appreciate what you’re doing for me with the whole Evan thing.”

“Can I pick you up in fifteen minutes? I need to get someone at the airport.”

She hesitated. “Sure. I’ll be ready.”

I went to Dad’s to get some necessaries and his car. I figured it was the least he could do. I picked up Claire quick, so she wouldn’t have too much time to think. Claire got in and smoothed her black tailored slacks and took off her coat. She could’ve looked a little sleazier for my purposes, but she was classy eye candy. Along with her slacks, she wore a cashmere cowl-neck sweater that hung low enough to show a hint of breast, pearl earrings, and stiletto-heeled boots. She smelled like something from Estee Lauder, not White Linen. That was my scent, although I wasn’t wearing it or anything else that matched up to Claire.

I looked her over too long and she started to squirm in her seat. “What?” she asked.

“Nothing. You look nice. Were you going out or something?”

“No.”

God help me. The woman just sat around looking like that. I started the drive to the airport and tried to think of an appealing way to tell Claire about Stevie.

She didn’t give me much time. “Why do you need help at the airport?”

“My parents asked me to pick someone up.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, he doesn’t exactly want to be picked up.”

“Then why are you picking him up?”

“You know how I told you my parents were out of town on a case? He’s the case.”

“But—”

“I know. Hear me out. His name’s Stevie Crown. He stole his mother’s Jag and credit cards a month ago. Dad tracked him to Florida, but he got on a plane before Dad could catch him. He wants us to grab him when he gets off the plane and deliver him to his father.”

“Can’t you call the police?”

“It’s better if it’s kept a family matter for now.”

Claire nodded. That was something she understood. “Is he dangerous?”

“Don’t worry. Stevie’s just smart enough to breathe. Now, he knows me, but he doesn’t know you. All you have to do is get his attention and get him to walk you out to our car. I’ll take it from there.”

“How do I get his attention?”

“Ask directions, look stupid and helpless, and flirt like it’s going out of style. I’m telling you, he’s a nimrod. He’d follow you to Botswana, if he thought there were sex and a beer in it for him.”

“OK. If you think I can do it.”

“Great. Don’t worry about a thing.”

We pulled into Lambert International parking garage and got a handy space in Level G between two Suburbans. We got out and I checked my gear.
 

“What is that?” Claire asked.
 

“A Universal handheld taser. It’s Mom’s. Smaller handle.”

“And why do you have it?”

“Stevie’s probably not going to want to get in the car. I’ll have to encourage him. No permanent effects.”

“And those?” She pointed to a bunch of industrial strength zip-ties.
 

“Easier than handcuffs. Let’s go.”

We went into the terminal and checked the flight times. Claire took position next to the security exit and I was farther away behind a kiosk. The plane was on time by some miracle and a glut of passengers rushed off. I could see Claire checking and rechecking the photo I’d given her of Stevie. I didn’t think he’d be hard to miss and he wasn’t. He was the tallest guy going, dressed in preppy casual. His black hair was longer than I remembered and he sported sideburns. His height and his clothes made him seem older than he was. Stevie was nineteen.
 

He passed Claire and she pulled out behind him, then I pulled out behind her. As instructed, she waited to see if he would head for baggage. He didn’t. I guessed that whatever happened to the Jag happened to the rest of his stuff, too. Claire hesitated and looked back at me. I nodded and she went in. She collided with him and spilled her purse. Stevie helped her pick her things up, they stood and started talking. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Claire was working it. She tossed her hair, hand on hip, and strategically fiddled with her collar and pulled it lower. It was high school all over again. At least this time she was working for me instead of against me.
 

When they stopped at the elevator, I dodged around them and sprinted up the escalator. I was huffing when I got to the car. I needed a gym membership bad. I opened the driver’s side door, pulled out the taser, and charged it. There weren’t too many people walking around and I could hear Claire’s voice when they entered Level G. I hid behind the Suburban furthest from them and waited. Their voices got very close and I heard Claire pop the trunk. I peeked out from around the truck and saw Stevie standing with his back to me.

Sweet!

I stepped out and said, “Hi Stevie.” Before he turned, I zapped him on the butt. He bonked his head on the bumper as he went down, but he didn’t make a sound. We pulled him by his feet to the back door. I zip-tied his hands and feet twice and hoisted him in. We laid him, none too gently, on the floor and covered him with Dad’s emergency blanket. The whole thing took a half hour.