In the Worst Way (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book 5) (31 page)

Pick chose that moment to spray, a nice long flappy one and I swear the temperature dropped five degrees in the room.
 

“I’ll have you moved directly,” he said and stepped backward without taking his gaze off me.
 

I wanted to shrink back, but the crazy Watts inside of me wouldn’t let that happen. “Excellent. I appreciate it. So when will that be?”
 

“Are you in a hurry?” he asked.
 

“You are. Dr. Watts wants to see me and we have a deadline.”
 

“Yes, the return of the prodigal sheriff.” He got a tablet out of his pocket and searched for something. “It’s difficult. This tower is the most secure.”
 

“Meaning no cameras elsewhere?” I asked.
 

“Yes, but another tower will do.”
 

“How many towers have you got?” asked Tiny.
 

“Eight. I’ll put you with your uncle.” There was a slight narrowing of the eyes on the word ‘uncle’ and I instantly knew this was punishment.
 

“Fine. He likes me,” I said.
 

Sort of.

“I was not aware that Morty liked people,” said John.
 

“He’s not aware of it either,” I said. “So where am I going?”
 

“The Tudor Tower. Are you ready?”
 

I shot him my own icy stare and gathered some unsullied clothes out of the closet hidden in the wall. “I’m ready.”
 

Pick ran out of the bathroom, spun in a circle, kicking up feathers galore.
 

“No. Not the dog,” said John.
 

“He’s with me,” I said. Pick was many things, including an incorrigible barker. Considering my decreased security, I could use all the help I could get. Plus, I was not leaving the dog alone. If the last twenty-four hours had proved anything, bad things happened at Cairngorms Castle.
 

Chapter Fifteen

THE TUDOR TOWER lived up to its name. Every wall and ceiling was paneled in dark wood. The carved furniture was ornate and sturdy. I’d probably get a hernia if I tried to lift a chair. John took me through the small hall on the first floor. The walls were lined with portraits of Henry VIII between panels of
The Lady and the Unicorn
tapestries. I wanted to take a closer look at the reproductions. They weren’t from the Tudor period, but that hardly mattered when they were so beautiful.

It would have to wait. We passed by and went up the narrow stairs to the fifth floor instead. It got darker with every step. The dim lighting couldn’t compete with the dark wood so it didn’t even try.
 

“Where’s Morty’s room?” I asked.
 

“Second floor.” John produced a large metal ring with keys of every size and shape. He removed a black iron key with a simple cross in the bow. The lock made a grinding clank that reminded me of the cell doors at Hunt Hospital for the Criminally Insane, not reassuring in the least. But the room wasn’t what I expected, no dark wood and minimal furniture. It was all cold stone arches and small windows. The bed was a single and looked comfortable enough, but there was a distinct unpleasantness about the room.
 

“Whose room is this supposed to be?” I asked.
 

“Anne Boleyn’s apartment in the Tower of London.”
 

“That explains it.”
 

“What?”
 

“It feels like a punishment. I assume that’s what you were going for. What else have you got?”
 

John stared into empty space. It was just he and I. Aaron and Tiny were packing up their stuff for the move to morbid and Pick was outside in the castle kennel, spraying away. “It’s the most secure room available.”
 

“Pass.”

“I have Lady Jane Grey’s cell.”
 

“Why would you have that?” I asked.
 

“The castle was designed this way,” he said.
 

We left and went down to the fourth floor to another room that was much more pleasant, but resembled a dorm with several simple beds and plain walls.
 

“Alright. Whose room is this?”
 

“Catherine Howard. Lambeth Palace, her grandmother’s home.”
 

“Of course it is,” I said. “Next.”
 

We went across the hall to a sumptuous room. I loved the full tester bed with flowered fabric hangings, a beautiful wood ceiling, tapestries, and a big window. I was ready to move in. Until I thought about it.
 

“You approve?” asked John.
 

“It depends. Whose is it?”
 

“Mary, Queen of Scots. Holyroodhouse.”
 

“I’m sensing a theme.”
 

“It wasn’t my idea.”
 

“It was your idea to put me in this tower. Gee, I wonder why,” I said. “Could it have something to do with the blood and bullets out by the service entrance?”
 

“It has to do with your dog destroying your last room.”
 

“And that’s it? You don’t know anything about what happened out there in the woods.”
 

“I don’t and I fail to see why you’re so interested since there’s no body,” he said, his voice flat as ever.
 

“Maybe there is a body and I just haven’t found it yet.”
 

John just gazed at me. I wasn’t going to find a body. He’d made sure of that. I’d never know what happened. Whatever John was, he was a professional at it.
 

“Fine. Let’s save some time. What other rooms are in this tower?”
 

“I have the Duke of Norfolk’s room.”
 

“Finally, a man,” I said, all ready to go for it, but John almost looked pleased. It’s hard to describe how. There was the smallest pinch by the right eye. “Wait. Is this the Duke that Elizabeth executed?”
 

“Naturally.”
 

“Oh, come on. Haven’t you got any rooms of non-executed people?”
 

“Anne of Cleves.”
 

“I’ll take it.”
 

We went down to the third floor and Anne’s room gave off no weird vibe. It was a Tudor bedroom with all the trappings but had a lightness to it with pale green hangings on the bed and wide leaded-glass windows. I heaved my armful of clothing onto the bed.

“Excellent,” I said.
 

“I had no idea that you’d be such a difficult guest.”
 

“Nothing’s easy when it comes to me. I’m here because people are trying to kill me. That doesn’t happen to Miss Congeniality. Also, there’s been two murders in the past twelve hours.”
 

“One murder.”
 

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, right. One murder.”
 

John didn’t react and I didn’t expect him to. He gave me a simple brass key with a green ribbon from his ring and said he’d put Tiny and Aaron in Catherine Howard’s dormitory room on the fourth floor. It wasn’t ideal but nothing that weekend was.

An hour later, I’d showered hard and gotten dressed. By hard I mean I washed everything multiple times, including my brain. When I finished, the memory of Pick’s butt oil on the side of my face was completely gone.
 

I texted Dr. Watts and said I’d be over soon. First, I had to hitch a ride. I had no clue where Phelong and Gerry were. The rain was coming down in sheets so I assumed they were in the castle somewhere. But they might be hiding from me and my yelling until the storm passed so they could escape, not that I blamed them. If they were hiding, I’d never find them. I’d be lucky to find my way outside. Tiny and Aaron could help, but they were showering upstairs. I plopped down on the bed and looked for nonexistent messages from Chuck. Mom had sent updates on Lester. He was holding steady for now. I asked her why Tiny got a gun and I didn’t. She texted back that she feared I’d shoot the cousins, so Tiny had that right. I wanted to know why they thought Tiny was up to dealing with the Costillas. Mom replied that Tiny was a sight more fit than me, considering that he was Special Ops in the Marines. He’d served in Iraq and Afghanistan and could kill people with his thumbs. Tiny didn’t seem much like a thumb killer, but I promised not to ditch him and went on to Uncle Morty’s texts. He’d sent me backgrounds on Leslie and John. I couldn’t have been more surprised. There was no bill attached and the backgrounds were detailed as well as complete crap. Almost nothing rang true. So frustrating, but everything that weekend was. The waiting didn’t help.

I grabbed my purse and whipped open my door, jumping back a foot and nearly falling over. Tiny and Aaron filled the doorway.
 

“Don’t do that,” I said.
 

“Huh?”
 

“You scared me, standing out there like vultures.” I squeezed between them and locked my door.
 

“Sorry,” said Tiny. “I was gonna knock, but you beat me to it.”
 

I jogged down the stairs. “It’s fine. Do you know where the cops are?”
 

“Why?”
 

“I need a ride to the funeral home.”
 

“They might’ve left. You were pretty pissed and they were wet.”
 

The hall at the foot of the stairs was still gloomy and getting worse. The ominous clouds kept getting darker and darker and that room needed sunshine in a huge way. Dimness wasn’t helping my sense of direction. I thought I’d recognize the door that I came in with John, but there were four doors and they were identical.
 

“Where are we going?” asked Tiny.
 

“Kitchen,” said Aaron.

“You’re going to the kitchen,” I said. “We’re going to the funeral home.”
 

“I got to stick with you.”
 

“That’s what Tiny’s for and you’re making dinner.”
 

The little weirdo didn’t move. Okay. Whatever.
 

“Which way to the office?”
 

Tiny led the way and, at some point, Aaron peeled off, presumably to go to the kitchen. I felt a little bad about it. He’d been replaced, to some extent, by Tiny and most people would be stung by such a thing. But with Aaron it was hard to tell what he thought if anything at all.
 

We found Phelong and Gerry holed up in reception. They were wrapped in blankets and holding steaming cups of tea. Their hands shook so much they sloshed tea all over their knees.
 

“What are you doing here?” I asked. “I expected you to high tail it home.”
 

Phelong shrunk down into his blanket. That tea was mighty interesting. “You didn’t say we could leave and Dr. Watts is scarier than you. She’d get mad if we left.”

“Is that why you’re shaking? You should’ve warmed up by now.”
 

They glanced at each other and said nothing.
 

“What?” I asked.
 

“You’ll say we’re stupid,” said Phelong.
 

“Likely. What happened?”
 

“We got locked in the big walk-in fridge.”
 

I rolled my eyes and asked the obvious, “What were you doing in the fridge?”
 

The young cops shook their heads and shrugged.
 

“I don’t know,” said Gerry.
 

“We went looking for hot tea and then we were in there.” Phelong flushed at the absurdity of it.
 

“That kind of thing happens around here. The safety latch didn’t work?”
 

“Safety latch?”
 

I rolled my eyes. “How’d you get out?”
 

“One of the cooks found us, but he didn’t lock us in.”