A.W. Hartoin - Mercy Watts 04 - Drop Dead Red (38 page)

I was halfway down the street before they caught up with me. Chuck snagged my arm and spun me around. “What is your problem?”
 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, wrenching my arm out of his grasp.
 

Stevie’s hand shot up and waved around like he was answering a teacher’s question. “Oh oh. I know.”
 

“No, you don’t,” I said.
 

“You’re jealous.”
 

I protested and they laughed. I lifted my foot to stomp on a shiny boot, but my phone rang. Uncle Morty. Finally.
 

“Where you been?” he bellowed.
 

“You haven’t answered the phone in forever. Where you been?” I snapped.
 

Silence for a moment and then in a soft voice, the kind you’d use on a skittish horse, he said, “It’s alright. Everything’s fine.”
 

“Damn right it is.”
 

“Now, I have some information. Would you like to hear it?” he asked.
 

“Yeah, I guess.” I turned my back, but I think Chuck and Stevie were still stifling laughter. Bastards. Jealous. Puh-lease.
 

“First of all, Tulane doesn’t know who the hell you are. They aren’t sending you a thing. Second, the hospital released that Grayson kid, and nobody told the cops who was involved. Grayson and your two helpers have refused to press any charges. Wellow is pissed. He thought he had you. What the hell were you thinking? You never bet a cop on crime.”
 

“I wasn’t thinking. I was pissed.”
 

“Yeah, well, the guy’s an idiot. He’s telling everybody and his mother’s brother that he’s going to kick your ass.”
 

“What do you think?” I asked.
 

“I think you better move fast. Wellow shows some signs of intellect. Not much, but some.”
 

“What else have you got?”
 

“Nothing on Schwartz. No connections between her and Blankenship or the Farrell family or the other Berrys.”
 

“Great. Did you find anything new on Donald Farrell? I’m not crazy about that guy.”

“I didn’t, but one of my guys did.”
 

“You have guys?”
 

“I subcontract. You’ll like this, Farrell’s been calling Wellow repeatedly over the last week,” said Uncle Morty.

“Why? Faith’s case was dropped. The evidence didn’t back her up,” I said.
 

“Maybe her dad decided it ain’t over. I’d be pretty damn mad if I thought my kid got raped and the cops didn’t give a shit about it. Now Farrell’s pissed off Tommy something good. He’s seeing about the wife. Farrell pulled some strings. No autopsy. First cop on the scene didn’t feel good about the suicide finding. Tommy’s working it hard. That woman will be out of the ground in a week. They informed Farrell this morning. He ain’t happy.”

“Imagine that,” I said with a smile.
 

Chuck came around me, no longer amused. “What’d he say?”
 

I shooed him away, but, of course, he didn’t leave. He never does.
 

“What about the other Berrys? Did Dad get anything on them?” I asked Uncle Morty.
 

“Nothing. They’re greedy and not burdened by grief or guilt over the whole family annihilation thing.”
 

“They’re special. Get anything on that name they dropped? Anything on Andrew Marlin?”
 

“Tommy got him. Took two days of surveillance, but Ken Berry finally met with Marlin at a Denny’s.”
 

Nothing about a convenient tip from Chuck aka me. So typical. Dad just found Andrew. Right.

“Denny’s? That doesn’t say lawyer to me.”
 

“That’s ‘cause he ain’t a lawyer. Not anymore. Marlin got disbarred in Mississippi three years ago for bribing witnesses. He moved to Illinois and does some paralegal work for a couple low-class sharks.”

“How do the Berrys know him?” I asked.
 

“Ken sued another driver last year after a minor fender bender in a Walmart parking lot. Andrew was working for the lawyer he used. Bogus claim. The insurance company had Ken followed and caught him moving furniture and skeet shooting. Idiot. If you’re gonna commit insurance fraud, you gotta lay low.”
 

“What about Andrew and Blankenship? Do they know each other?”
 

“Nothing so far, but there’s something there. Tommy has a feeling,” said Uncle Morty.
 

“That’s a good sign…in a bad way. Do you have any pictures of this Andrew character?”
 

“Yeah. I’ll send ‘em.”
 

“Excellent.”
 

Chuck poked me in the shoulder. “What’d he say?”
 

“Nothing. Go away,” I said.
 

“Huh?” asked Uncle Morty.
 

“Not you. Chuck. He’s bothering me.”
 

“That moron’s still there? What the hell? Give him the phone!” he yelled.
 

I grinned. “Gladly.” I handed my phone to Chuck, who held it six inches from his ear.
 

There was a lot of yelling, mostly cursing and name-calling. Chuck hung up after a good three minutes of misery. It was hilarious because it wasn’t me.
 

Chuck gave me my phone back, looking a bit shaken.
 

“It’s fun being me, huh?” I asked. “What’s the deal with the Costillas?”

“Last seen in Florida.”
 

“Heading this way?” Stevie almost looked worried, but it might’ve been hunger.

“They don’t know,” said Chuck. “What did Morty have on Donatella’s case?”
 

“Aren’t you supposed to be leaving?” I asked.
 

“I’ll leave when I’m ready. What’d he say?”
 

I told him with reluctance since my phone starting ringing again. The photos of Andrew Marlin had come in. I opened them and frowned. Andrew Marlin was new to me. No, not exactly new. I didn’t recognize him, but he was familiar.
 

Stevie looked over my shoulder. “What? Are they coming for me? Who’s that guy?”
 

“Andrew Marlin,” I said with a discreet look at Chuck. He acknowledged with a nod. “But I’ve seen him before. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” asked Chuck.
 

I covered my eyes. “He’s really familiar.”
 

“Here or at home?”
 

“Here. Give me a second.” I ran through the events of my investigation. It wasn’t anyone I’d talked to. That was a rather limited list. “I’ve got it. He was on the wall at Rob’s realty company.”
 

Chuck grabbed my arm, his fingers wrapping completely around my bicep. “Are you sure?”
 

“Yes. At least it was someone very like him.”
 

Chuck pulled up the company webpage to the staff page and there he was. Not Andrew, but Jared Schwartz. An older version, but very similar.

We held the phones together and Stevie said, “They’re like brothers or something.”
 

“I feel a little sick.” I leaned on a signpost.
 

“How come? Isn’t this good?”
 

Chuck shook his head. “Not exactly.”
 

My eyes got watery. “The other Berrys lured their own family to their deaths.”
 

“How’d you get that?” asked Stevie.

“Andrew Marlin is the connection. He looks exactly like Jared Schwartz, who worked with Rob,
and
he knows the other Berrys. The other Berrys recommended Tulio, a restaurant they’d never been to. Their family and, more importantly, Rob gets killed there. They aren’t exactly broken up about the murders and neither was Mrs. Schwartz. The other Berrys had everything to gain. If Donatella and the rest of the Berrys died at Tulio, they’d inherit millions.”

Chuck scratched his chin. “We need to connect Marlin to Blankenship. If we don’t, this is all just coincidence.”

“Do you really believe this could be a coincidence?” I asked, flushing with anger.

“Don’t get me wrong. I like it, except for one thing.”
 

“What’s that?” I asked.
 

“Why would the Schwartzes want Rob Berry dead? He was a freaking realtor.” asked Chuck. “Did you get a hint of financial troubles at the office?”
 

“No, but they have a shiny veneer. This has to be about Rob though. He was having a thing with Sheila. Mrs. Schwartz didn’t know that until I told her, and now Sheila’s dead. If Rob knew something, who would he tell? His wife, brothers, his online mistress? If Donatella had been at that dinner, the possibilities would’ve been wiped out.”
 

“That’s sick, man,” said Stevie. “They killed kids. Like, on purpose.”
 

“Yeah, they did.” Chuck turned me around and pointed me back the way we came. “I want you to go home now. Stevie, you’re with Mercy.”
 

“No way. I’m going to the frat,” I said.
 

“You’re going home. This is huge. I’ll call Tommy and fill him in. He’ll get our guys on Andrew, but I don’t want you out until we nail this down.”
 

I shook him off. “You’re forgetting the listeriosis. I’m going to the frat.”
 

“I don’t give a shit about that.”
 

“I do. I promised Donatella, and it has nothing to do with the Schwartz thing.”
 

“Just because the left hand doesn’t know what the right is doing, doesn’t mean you’re safe.”
 

I groaned. “I’m going. Unless you want to spend the rest of the day trying to control me and failing, I suggest you go interview the Schwartzes and let me get on with it.”
 

Chuck stood there, weighing his options. He didn’t seem to like them all that much. A myriad of emotions crossed his face before he finally said, “Alright. Go to the frat, but you’re taking Stevie with you.”
 

Stevie pumped his fist. “Score. Hot college chicks looking for a bad boy to sow some oats with.”
 

“You’re not dangerous. You’re a petty criminal,” I said.
 

“Same thing.”
 

“It’s really not.”
 

“I got plenty of looks the other day.”
 

“I’m sure you did, but you’re not going,” I said.
 

“You’d take Aaron,” said Stevie.
 

“You’re no Aaron. I don’t know what you are.”
 

Chuck looked up from texting. “I told Morty. He agrees. Stevie is with you or forget it. I’ll be on you like white on rice until you get on a plane.”
 

“I won’t be any safer with Stevie tagging along. The Costillas don’t use bacteria to do their bidding. We could be shot on the street easily. No elaborate plan required. Stevie should go home.”
 

“The Costillas aren’t interested in you. If they figure out where Stevie is, they’ll just snag him and leave you. You’re Tommy Watts’s daughter. They won’t pick a fight with him and you need backup.”
 

“Are you listening to this?” I asked Stevie, who was looking up at the cloud cover rolling in. I poked him in the side.
 

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Snag me off the street. Uh, huh,” he said.
 

“This doesn’t worry you?’
 

He shrugged. “They don’t know where I am.”
 

“Do you ever worry about anything?” I asked.
 

“I’m worried I won’t meet some hot college girls. Can we go to a sorority instead?”
 

I rolled my eyes and dashed past him to a cab that had stopped at the stop sign. I jumped in with impressive speed, but it wasn’t fast enough. Chuck grabbed the door before I could close it and I wasn’t strong enough to slam it on his fingers. I tried and my attempt was pathetic. He waved Stevie in the other door and leaned in. “Good luck, beautiful. I’ll be collecting that kiss when this is all over.”
 

“I told you—”

He slammed the door and thumped the cab’s roof. We pulled away from the stop sign and I looked back. Chuck was standing in the street, watching me go. He didn’t look happy about it, despite his small victory.

Chapter Twenty-Four

A SPATTERING OF raindrops hit the multi-colored steps of Christopher’s frat and I looked up. Gloomy clouds rolled in over the peaked roof, darkening the sky and making it seem like dusk rather than midday.
 

“There’s a sorority right there,” said Stevie, running up the steps behind me.