Mean Evergreen (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Twelve)

by A W Hartoin

  “Tell me about it. I saw the Instagram posts. My mom was all over that stuff.” Quite a few posts had come out of my look the night before. Some complimentary. Some not so much. So I wore a baggy sweater. Get over it.

  “There’s nothing from Gareth. The boy stayed true to his word.”

  “I will reward him,” I said. “Anything else?”

  “None of the posts have made it to the high school that I’ve seen, but other people are now discussing why you’re in Stuttgart.”

  “I’d think that would be obvious.”

  “It is and it’s started to spread with the usual theories and conspiracy theories. Watch yourself and get it done quick.”

  “Roger that,” I said.

  “All military already,” said Spidermonkey.

  “Moe taught me.”

  “Roger that.”

  The driveway up to the school complex was packed. Just getting on post took forever with the busses and people coming to work. The line to get into the parking lot stretched all the way under an overpass and into the regular part of the post. It was the second to last day before Christmas break and cars appeared to be full of party supplies, projects, and more than a few stressed out kids. The military kids had a different school schedule so they weren’t having finals, at least. But it took me back and not in a good way. Christmas parties in my younger years weren’t always the greatest.

  My dad never showed up, of course. Mom tried to come, but you’d be surprised how many cases Big Steve had going in the run-up to the holidays and since she was his paralegal she had a hard time escaping the pile of motions and briefs on her to-do list. I’d like to say I had no shows when it came to parties. That would’ve been preferable to Uncle Morty showing up with what he called dog barf dip and looking disturbingly like the serial killer BTK. Sometimes The Girls came and that was wonderful, but not always possible. I got Isolda once and that was the best year ever. We got gourmet cupcakes, sparkling apple cider, and tales of the world. Isolda was once peed on by a Moroccan man who decided that urinating out of his kitchen window was appropriate. She was full of stories like that and we laughed for two hours. Uncle Morty smelled like musty old pizza, talked about bloody crime scenes, and basically spent the time doing the school party version of get off my lawn. It was not awesome.

  I totally felt for the kids with glum expressions trudging into the elementary school with their mothers in tow, waving and chatting everyone up. My mom was the one that the dads showed up to get a gander at and that was almost worse than smelly Uncle Morty. People got mad at me. I couldn’t help what my mother looked like. That was just her face. I had no idea at the time that I would have the same problem on steroids. Mom was at least demure. Demure wasn’t an option for me. Nature and circumstance conspired against me in that regard and that day was no different.

  Grandma insisted that I “look nice,” which meant I looked like me with no hat as concealment. When we got out of the car, people pointed. Not ideal, and I hustled for the school much the way my mother had, eyes down. Making eye contact would encourage actual contact. That wasn’t good in a world with cell phones everywhere and the less people knew about my presence the better in terms of Jake. Spidermonkey had provided his bus schedule. He’d be arriving after us and still showed no signs that he knew I was in the area thankfully. His lack of social contacts was helpful in that context and sad in every other. Still, someone could mention seeing me and it was making me nervous.

  “Hey!” yelled Moe. “Where are you going?”

  I grimaced and turned around to find him at the popped trunk offloading his weaponry. I dashed back and dumped my purse with the Mauser inside. “I totally forgot.”

  “Good catch,” said Grandma, beaming at Moe. “Very smart. We don’t want to cause any issues.”

  “There’s an issue.” Moe pointed at Aaron, who was heading for the high school as fast as his little legs could carry him. We had to run to catch up and slipped in the door with the students to get visitor badges from the school secretary. She tried to give directions to the culinary class, but Aaron was already out the door. Grandma chased after him, smiling and saying hello to all the students.

  “I’m actually supposed to be meeting with the counselors,” I said.

  “Really?” she asked and then lowered her voice to a whisper that wasn’t a bit effective since the office was filled with kids and parents asking questions but with one ear on us. “About Mr. Thooft?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” I lied, “I’m supposed to pick up some more belongings for his sister.”

  “Didn’t you already clean out his room?”

  “I guess there’s something else.”

  She wasn’t convinced but gave me directions. Moe and I made a beeline to the counselors’ offices and were surprised to find the little waiting area packed.

  “Miss Watts,” said Principal Newsome, “it’s a pleasure to meet you. Donut?”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” I said, picking a glazed raised. “We didn’t have time for breakfast.”

  “Sir?” he asked Moe, holding out the box, but he declined.

  “Shall we sit down?”

  Hobbes said nothing, but there was a big vein throbbing in his neck and Meredith kept licking her lips. The other two counselors just looked slightly confused and curious.

  “Sure,” I said, and he went to put up a sign saying counseling was closed for the time being and locked the door.

  We sat in the waiting area and everyone looked at me. I looked at the principal until he shifted in his seat and reluctantly began. “Do you have information on one of our students that we should know about?”

  “I do. Has Hobbes filled you in on what I’ve been doing?” I asked.

  “He has, but I’d like to know where you got the information.”

  “Confidential.”

  “Not illegal, I hope.”

  Hugely.

  “Confidential.”

  “So you think Jake Purcell is in trouble?” asked Meredith.

  “I know he is and it’s about to get worse,” I said. “He’s involved in what happened to me. I suspect as a witness, not as a participant given his increasing depression, but I could be wrong. Did Hobbes fill you in on the SCPs?”

  The principal wasn’t convinced it was the indicator I thought it was, but he was going to take it seriously. I told them about Jake being present at the blackmailing by his sister in the café and the mood got a whole lot more serious.

  “Why would Madison Purcell do that to Anton or you for that matter?” Jackie, Ethan Elbert’s counselor, asked.

  I told them about the money and where we thought it went. The group went silent until Hobbes got out his laptop. “Jake has English and calc this morning.”

  “Is he there?” I asked. “In class, I mean.”

  Hobbes checked and said Jake had been marked as present. I breathed a sigh of relief that everyone noticed, but nobody commented on.

  I suggest we pull him in at lunch,” said Hobbes.

  “I agree,” said Meredith. “I’m really worried. He’s a sweet kid and we have to get ahead of this.”

  “You’re already behind,” said Moe.

  “What do you mean?” Principal Newsome asked, bristling.

  “Jake Purcell is already in a hole. He’s not getting ready to fall in.”

  Newsome nodded and poured us all a second cup of coffee. “We’ve never dealt with something like this before.” He looked at me, his high forehead wrinkling. “Will the FBI be involved? These are international crimes.”

  “Yes,” I said. “But keeping Jake safe is my priority right now. We have the location of Madison’s accomplice and bringing Madison in for questioning won’t be too much of an issue as long as she’s surprised.”

  “We won’t tell her,” said Hobbes. “How are you going to do it? Go to her house?”

  “I’d say bring in Jake’s mom at lunch and ask that Madison come as well. Once they’re all three here, you can
separate Madison from her mother and Jake. I’d like a word with Madison to see what I can get, but then it’s all you.”

  “Us?” Meredith asked.

  “Well, the MPs and the Polizei. I’m just a PI. Info gathering is my thing. I’ll probably be able to get Madison to admit it. If not, I’ll ask her mother to check her accounts in front of her. If that doesn’t break the dam, we’ll know that Madison has more of a criminal turn of mind than I’m thinking right now.”

  “Couldn’t she be innocent?” Jackie asked.

  “She is not innocent. She stole the money and set up Anton. She knew what she was doing,” I said. “The question is why and where the money is now.”

  “Can you find it?” Hobbes asked.

  “If we—”

  My phone buzzed and Novak had texted, “We got him.”

  I stood up and said, “I have to take this.”

  Hobbes told me to take his office and I dashed in there, dialing as I went.

  Novak answered on the first ring and said, “Bastard was in the bathroom.”

  “Seriously? This whole time?”

  “Yep. That’s what took so long. My friend, Frederic the porter, went looking and searched the entire train to no avail. Another porter said a bathroom had been occupied for thirty minutes.”

  “So either somebody has a serious problem or…”

  “They’re hiding,” said Novak. “This happens a lot apparently. People sneak on without a ticket or steal something and hide out.”

  “It’s been over an hour,” I said. “Where was he the rest of the time?”

  “He’s smarter than I thought. He moved from toilet to toilet for the first half hour, but then he couldn’t move because the other ones were constantly occupied so he hung out.”

  “Did you get a picture?”

  “Frederic got several and even better, a name,” said Novak.

  “Sweet. Lay it on me.”

  “Our guy is Sebastian Nadelbaum and he used his own credit card to book his ticket.”

  “A real credit card?” I asked.

  “Like I said not a genius. It appears to be legit and the booking site had all his information. I’ve got a friend working on it. We should have everything within say an hour.”

  “Christmas came early.”

  “It did indeed,” said Novak. “Do you want a picture?”

  “Oh, so very much,” I said.

  He sent me a couple of shots, front and side views, and Nadelbaum was as Ethan Elbert described him, tall, handsome, about thirty, and well-dressed. In the case of the train, he didn’t look out of place like he did in the club. Nadelbaum was appropriate and I looked closely at his face. Yes, I could see how Madison could fall for him easily. He was just the right amount of handsome, not over the top. His nose was a little bulbous. Shadows on the dark eyes and the jawline wasn’t perfect. It was believable. Madison might be on the young side, but she was in his league.

  “Do you recognize him from the hotel?” I asked.

  “He’s familiar but nothing more,” said Novak. “He’s got the right look for sure.”

  “Are you doubting that he’s our guy?”

  He chuckled a little. “Not a bit. He saw you and me and hid in bathrooms for an hour. It’s him.”

  “Can you get a reception committee for him in Gare de l’Est?”

  “Already arranged. The train will be covered.”

  “What’s he doing now?” I asked.

  “Sitting in his seat. Frederic insisted. He’s four rows behind me.”

  “He might try the bathroom thing at the station.”

  “Frederic will have them searched. It will not work out for him,” said Novak with a yawn.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  “Better now that we’ve got him. I’m going to enjoy introducing him to my mother.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “She kicks.”

  We both hung up laughing and I came out of Hobbes’ office to find everyone literally on the edge of their seats.

  “What happened?” they asked in chorus.

  “Anybody recognize the name Sebastian Nadelbaum?” I asked and they shook their heads.

  “A German, I assume,” said Newsome.

  “Looks like it.” I showed them Nadelbaum’s picture and nobody had seen him before.

  “He looks too old for Madison,” said Meredith. “I can’t imagine her mother was happy.”

  “I doubt she knew the particulars,” I said. “But we’ll find out.”

  Hobbes ran his hands over his head and said, “I can’t believe this. Madison and Jake. I don’t know what I’m going to say to their mother.”

  “Let’s just get them here,” said Meredith. “You should call her.”

  He typed something into his laptop and took a breath. “Alright, lady. This is when your life turns to shit.” He dialed his phone, stood up, and went into his office.

  “That is not going to be a good time,” said Jackie. “So glad it’s not me.”

  “I second that,” said Meredith. “The depressed ones scare the crap out of me. I never know what’s going to happen.”

  “You haven’t had any suicides, have you?” Moe asked.

  “No, but with the kids, they’re so impulsive. I worry all the time. They just take action when they should stop and think.”

  Hobbes came out. “Well, that was easier than I thought.”

  “What did she say?” Newsome asked.

  “She’s been worried. Jake’s not sleeping or eating. He won’t talk to her. She was thinking of calling me for help, but I beat her to it. I’d say she’s relieved.”

  That won’t last long.

  “What about Madison?” I asked.

  “She’s calling her, but she thinks she’s probably still asleep,” said Hobbes. “Oh, and she didn’t want to wait until lunch. She’s taking the duty bus over from Patch. She should make it for second period.”

  “What do you think?” Newsome asked me.

  “It’s fine, but I better tell Aaron that I’m not going to be front and center for the chef show.”

  A huge smile replaced Newsome’s frown. “I have to admit I’d never heard of your friend but then Chef showed me his YouTube channel and I was hooked. That guy’s amazing.”

  “He is,” I said, standing up.

  “Our Culinary 2 students are thrilled to have him. They will be in a competition this spring and Aaron’s going to give them a lot of confidence.”

  I never thought of Aaron as giving confidence. I wasn’t even sure if he was confident, just incredibly focused on food or Dungeons and Dragons or whatever he was doing.

  “I hope so. If nothing else, he’ll probably give them ideas. He’s chock full of them,” I said.

  “He barely talks in the videos,” said Meredith.

  I laughed and it felt good, a tiny bit of stress disappearing from my chest. Aaron had that effect on me. “He barely talks in real life, except about hot dogs and gaming.”

  “Hot dogs?”

  “He’s passionate about hot dogs.”

  “Why?”

  “Beats me,” I said.

  Newsome shook my hand and didn’t release it for a moment but not in a creepy way. “I should’ve said right off how sorry I am for what happened to you.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

  He patted my hand and said, “Thanks for bringing Aaron with you. The whole school is buzzing about him. It’s a nice distraction.”

  “I didn’t bring Aaron. He just comes with me,” I said. “But I’ll tell him how happy you all are.”

  “Too bad he doesn’t have time for Culinary 1,” said Jackie. “They’re missing out.”

  “Oh, no,” said Hobbes. “Jake is in Culinary 1. I’m glad he’s not in there.”

  “I thought Chef was thinking about inviting the first years to a tasting at lunch?” Meredith asked.

  “Was she? I didn’t know that,” said Jackie. “We should check with her.”
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  “We’ll already have Jake in here with us, so it’s okay,” said Hobbes. “Actually, I’m not sure he’d go anyway. He’s been so shut down. I’d be shocked if he knew who Aaron was.”

  The thought of Jake put the heavy right back in my chest and I excused myself to go to Culinary. Moe trailed me out, his forehead furrowed. “I hope the meeting with the mother goes well.”

  “I’m not sure there is a way for it to go well,” I said.

  “But there’s a way for it to go very bad.”

  “Aren’t you just a bowl of sunshine?”

  “I’ve seen men crack up. It’s not pretty.”

  There’s wasn’t a good response to that, so I just walked with my bodyguard through the halls, getting lost twice, until we ended up at the culinary class. I’m not sure how we passed it, but once we got turned back around we could see through a door into a classroom where Grandma was sitting at a desk talking up a storm with five girls who were excitedly pointing at pictures in magazines and at their phones.

  I walked in and said, “So what’s all the excitement about?”

  Half the class was in there and I got blasted with questions with everything from cosmetic surgery to Chuck. That’s right. They knew about the hot boyfriend. Gen Z doesn’t have much of a filter and they asked all kinds of things I didn’t expect before we got to food. It was a bit of a battle, to be honest.

  “Are you excited about cooking with Aaron?” I asked.

  Another furious blast of questions came at me and it was all I could do not to duck. Seriously, I’m not kidding.

  “Does he ever talk a lot?”

  “Why does he smell like hot dogs?”

  “Did you ever go out? Because that would be weird.”

  Yes, it would.

  “Does he make mochi for you like all the time?”

  “Can Aaron make those hand-pulled noodles like they do them in Asia?”

  “Would he do that today?”

  “I want to learn that. It’s so crazy.”

  “Can you ask him? He’ll do it if you ask.”

  I looked at Grandma and she said, “They’re excited. It’s not often you have a celebrity chef in the house.”

  “Aaron’s a celebrity chef?” I asked.