Mean Evergreen (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Twelve)

by A W Hartoin

  But Madison took no notice of me, walking right onto the train car directly behind her. It was pretty packed, but I mean, come on, who stands out more than Moe Licata. Half the car was looking at him, but not Madison. She was in her own world with a deep frown on her face and clenched fists.

  We traveled on two different lines to end up at the Abbesses metro stop in Montmartre where Madison got off and bypassed the elevators to climb the long spiral stairs up to the street. Moe was not thrilled. I thought he would love the gorgeous paintings on the curved walls, but it was hard to get a good look with all the people and he was getting more and more tired. If I could’ve left him behind to rest, I would’ve.

  He was muttering as Madison picked up speed and squeezed past hordes of people coming through the station’s narrow entrance after a day’s work. She cleared the beautiful Art Nouveau structure and I expected her to dash off to be lost in the crowd while I waited for Moe, who’d gotten stuck behind a woman with three children and a pile of Christmas shopping.

  But Madison didn’t dash off. She stood next to the carousel all decked out for Christmas and wrapped her arms around herself as the children went round and round. We were right in the middle of a Christmas market. Stalls crowded the small area, selling everything from nougat cut off huge blocks to Christmas ornaments.

  “Churros,” said Moe as he came gasping up beside me. “I need a churro.”

  “I need a bathroom,” I said.

  “And a comb. What is going on with your hair?”

  I reached up and sure enough, the part that had come out under my hat had gone all frizzy. “It doesn’t like Paris.”

  “Your hair has an opinion?”

  “Always.” I stuffed it up in my hat and Moe nodded approval. “You should talk to Fats. She could fix it.”

  “I know, but this particular thing is only in Paris,” I said.

  Moe wasn’t buying that, but he said, “How long do you think she’ll—”

  Madison was off again. She had her phone out and it was giving her directions rather loudly. Very tourist. She rushed past a stand done up like a train that had the most wonderful smell coming from it.

  Moe groaned. “I’ll catch up.”

  “They’re chestnuts,” I said.

  “Dammit. Why do they smell good and taste like grainy—”

  “Pus?”

  “God no,” he said. “Why would you say that? Now I’m thinking about it. Oh God I can taste it.”

  “Bet you’re not hungry anymore,” I said.

  “Bet you still have to pee. Waterfalls. Dripping faucets.”

  “Shut up.”

  “You shut up.”

  We followed Madison through the colorful streets of Montmartre, passing everything from shops selling all their food in pitas to a funky vintage store that I longed to shop in but in which nothing would fit me. And people think breasts are so great, not if you’re dying to buy the Pucci dress in the window they’re not.

  And to Moe’s dismay, there were hills everywhere. Paris always seems flat until you got to Montmartre. Maybe that’s why all the artists lived there. Everyone else said screw it and went for convenience and high prices.

  “I will kill that girl,” muttered Moe and that’s when she turned on a side street that was a little rundown and sad. She turned around and backtracked to go down another street and I was sure she saw us, but nothing happened. She just kept looking at her phone and following the directions until she got to a plain building with an equally plain door. I don’t mean plain for Paris. I mean plain for anywhere and pretty crappy. The door was a 1970s metal job with frosted windows and it didn’t seem possible, but there were seven apartments inside that building. It was only three stories and four windows wide. Maybe it was the modern version of the storied Paris garret.

  Moe and I ducked behind a van parked haphazardly to watch Madison pick out a buzzer. She hesitated, took a breath, and then pushed. It was a long push. A you-better-answer-the-damn-door push, but it didn’t work. No one answered. She tried again, pushing so hard her finger must’ve hurt. I could see her face past the van’s side mirror. Her lip was quivering and her eyes overflowed. She pushed again. Nothing. She tried the other buzzers and did get a couple answers, but no one knew Sebastian Nadelbaum.

  Then Madison looked at her phone, pressed it to her chest, and it seemed like she would call someone, but instead, she did a long press, a press that lasted until the curtains were drawn aside in one of the windows above. A woman, around thirty-five and pudgy with a phone to her ear, looked out, saw Madison, and then yanked the curtain back over the window. She didn’t answer Madison’s desperate buzz.

  “Out of options,” said Moe.

  “One would think,” I said.

  Madison stepped back and looked at the window in question. No one appeared and her shoulders sagged. My phone buzzed. Spidermonkey. Nadelbaum had taken money out of an ATM, but no hotel or airline charges. Airlines didn’t take cash. I wasn’t so sure about trains. Maybe. I texted Lisa that we were about to approach Madison. I got a thumbs-up as I watched Madison spin in a circle and then take off up the street.

  “Why did it have to be uphill?” Moe asked

  “It’s us,” I said.

  “It’s you, you mean.”

  “Pretty much.”

  We continued on until the street split.

  I know this area.

  “There’s a park in about half a block,” I said. “I’ll follow. You cut her off. I don’t want to lose her.”

  “I’ll follow. You cut,” said my geezer bodyguard.

  I nodded and raced down the other road to the small park past a lovely café with heaters and blankets in the outdoor seating. They probably had a bathroom.

  Don’t think about that.

  I dashed through the little park, if you want to call it that. It was completely paved with cobblestones, but it did have trees and people. A few Christmas stands were set up, selling vin chaud, and people were getting tanked. I pushed my way through and burst onto the other street ramming right into Madison, who, to my amazement, still didn’t recognize me.

  “Pardon,” she said and sidestepped me.

  This is harder than I thought.

  I grabbed her arm and said, “Madison, pay attention.”

  Even that didn’t get much reaction. She pulled away, but she wasn’t serious about it and I dug my fingernails in. I was so over it. Done.

  Moe got on the other side of her, in case she bolted and got out of my grasp, but she just looked at me and stopped pulling.

  “We need to talk,” I said.

  Now I was ready for anything, a throat punch, weaponry, she could’ve peed and it wouldn’t have surprised me, but what she did do shocked the hell out of me. Madison Purcell threw her arms around my neck and sobbed like her brother had taken a header off that overpass. I patted her back and gave Moe the big eyes.

  “Well, that was easy,” said Moe. “Let’s eat.”

  “And pee,” I said.

  Madison made a horrible snuffling snorting noise and I did not want to look at my shoulder. It was wet in a bad way.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked through sobs.

  “Looking for you,” I said. “There’s a café. I have to go there.”

  “Um…okay.”

  I dragged Madison by the arm through the park back to the café. We got a table by a toasty heater and I parked Madison next to Moe saying, “If I have to chase you down again, I will shoot you. Don’t leave.”

  I took off and heard Madison say behind me, “She doesn’t mean that.”

  “If she doesn’t, I do,” said Moe.

  There was a bathroom and they let me use it. That’s not always a given, believe it or not. I’ve been denied bathrooms on three continents. Maybe it’s me. That time I got in and when I went back to our table I found Madison crying into her napkin with a waitress nervously hovering beside her.

  “Ihr geht es gut,” I said. “Danke.”


  The waitress frowned and gave me a menu before hoofing it away from the juicy Madison.

  “That was German,” said Moe.

  “Something is wrong with me.”

  “I don’t disagree.” He looked at his menu. “Do you think they have churros?”

  “No, I don’t.” I got a tissue pack out of my purse and gave it to Madison, who looked up, seemingly surprised to find us still there as if sobbing could get rid of me. The Corsican hitman couldn’t get rid of me, but that’s another story.

  “My mom does that,” she said between sniffing and gulping for air. “Always the wrong language.”

  “I’m in good company,” I said.

  “You are.” And the tears began afresh.

  The waitress came back and I ordered, in French or something like it, quiche, salads, and a bottle of wine. I needed wine, but it wasn’t the best choice.

  While we waited, I filled Madison in on what we thought and the tears stopped.

  “Is he okay? I didn’t think Jake would do anything like that,” she said.

  “He’s alright for the moment, but you are going home to face it, all of it.”

  “I know,” she said with fresh tears.

  The waitress came and Moe checked the wine like a sommelier while I did my best not to fall on my quiche like a jackal.

  “Why did you take your mother’s money?” Moe asked as he swirled a glass of wine looking for something as he held it up to the light. I didn’t care if it was halfway to vinegar and had a beetle floating in it. I was drinking. He gave me the glass and I didn’t bother to sip.

  “I thought it would be easy. Sebastian made all his money that way. He said I could double the insurance for my mom.” She shook and wine spilled on the tablecloth. “But then there was this freak downturn in the market and—”

  “He stole it,” I said.

  “What?”

  “He set you up and stole the money.”

  Madison stared at me with a crumb of quiche on her lip. “That’s not…no, that’s not what happened.”

  “We know where it is. He has it,” I said.

  “That’s his money. He’s an investor and brilliant at it.”

  “He’s a criminal and a douchebag.”

  Madison couldn’t believe it. Nadelbaum had cried with her when the money was lost. He was investing some money for her to earn it back. The fact that that money was never seen or in her name didn’t cause any concern. He was rich and handsome so he simply wouldn’t do anything bad. They were in love.

  “You know that first apartment you went to,” I said, getting out my phone.

  “That’s his apartment. We stayed there. It’s so beautiful. He said I could move in,” said Madison.

  I showed her the Airbnb page and the thread of faith snapped. She told us everything and it was a pretty good hustle, but I must admit I don’t think it started out like that. It sounded like Nadelbaum liked Madison, but then his scheme went south and he needed cash.

  “How did he know about Anton?” I asked.

  She swallowed hard and said, “I told him. It was just gossip and kind of cool that Jake figured it out.”

  “But then he wanted to use that against him.”

  She nodded and told us the tale that Nadelbaum had woven for her. I had something that belonged to a charity, The Klinefeld Group. The Bleds had stolen it and I was keeping the charity from getting it back. Only I knew where it was.

  “I’m the bad one?” I couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

  “He said you didn’t understand what was going on. He said you were kind of a…”

  “Drug-addled nitwit?”

  She shrugged. “Basically.”

  “I get that a lot,” I said. “What was supposed to happen?”

  “You weren’t going to get hurt,” she said. “Mr. Thooft was just going to go get you and put you on the plane.”

  Moe topped up my wine and said, “By smothering her with insecticide and throwing her in a trunk.”

  “I don’t know anything about that chemical,” said Madison.

  “Where did he get it?”

  “Sebastian must’ve given it to him before he left.”

  “They met?” I asked.

  “Just once.” She gripped the table. “You weren’t going to get hurt and I had to get that money.”

  “There was no money,” I said. “He was going to use me to pay off a debt.”

  “I…but he said there was a reward for that thing you have,” she said. “I could pay back my mom and it would all be fine.”

  Madison looked at me with wide blank eyes and I questioned her sanity. How would this be alright? Freaking how?

  “How did you get Anton to do it?” I asked.

  She looked away. “I told you.”

  “Jake says there was something else.”

  She glanced back at me. “He did?”

  “Your brother is very bright,” I said. “What else did you have on Anton?”

  “Nothing. We didn’t have anything.”

  Moe finished his quiche and asked, “Why did Jake have to be in the café?”

  Nice one.

  Her eyes got all shifty. “No reason.”

  “You wanted Thooft to think your brother was in on it,” said Moe.

  She nodded. “That’s right. I told Mr. Thooft that Jake would tell people about his family.”

  “That’s cold-blooded,” I said. “What did he ever do to you?”

  The tears came again. “Nothing. I really liked him, but I had to get that money back for my mom. I didn’t think anything would happen to him.”

  I could tell she believed it or maybe she had to to do what she did.

  “What else did you threaten him with?”

  “Nothing.”

  Something wasn’t right. I could feel it. Anton Thooft would not have kidnapped me over Kimberly. I thought he did, but that wasn’t right. He did a lot of things to hide what his mother did. He gave up the love of his life. He left the country for crying out loud, but no one ever said he was violent. He’d have to be pushed hard for that to happen.

  “What else did you threaten him with?” I asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Look, little girl,” said Moe, “I’ve had just about enough of you. I’m tired and I’m old and this is bullshit. It’s about Jake. Did you say that Jake would accuse him of molestation?”

  I gasped and she cried.

  “I did, but Jake would never have done it.”

  “Jesus Christ, you are a piece of work,” said Moe.

  “I was desperate. Sebastian said I had to or we couldn’t get the money. I swear I wouldn’t have done it.”

  “But Anton believed you.” I couldn’t look at her. “You were going to ruin his family and brand him as a child molester.”

  “I thought it would be alright,” said Madison. “Sebastian said it would. Mr. Thooft just had to get you to the plane. That’s it.”

  “And Mercy would just tell The Klinefeld Group what they wanted to know?” Moe asked, shaking his head in amazement.

  “Well, yeah.” Madison looked at me. “It’s not yours or the Bleds. You have to give it back to the charity. It’s not fair to keep it.”

  I leaned back and looked at her young face, wondering if I was ever that dumb. I hoped not.

  “I don’t have it, Madison, and neither do the Bleds. We don’t even know what it is.”

  “But you have to. Sebastian said that his friend at the charity said you know all the stuff, but you just won’t tell.”

  “I know some stuff, but I don’t know that. Your boyfriend is an idiot. If The Klinefeld Group wanted to get ahold of me, you don’t think they would’ve done it themselves?”

  “I…I don’t know. I mean they’re a charity,” she said. “Do you think he made up everything? All of it?”

  “Now you’re cooking with gas,” said Moe and he signaled the waitress for the bill.

  “I think I want to kill him,” said M
adison. “For real. I want to kill him.”

  “Get in line,” I said.

  “Let’s start with that crappy apartment you were just at,” said Moe. “Who lives there?”

  “His friend Josephine. We had dinner with her. I thought he might go there since he wasn’t at his apartment.”

  I thought about the woman in the window. On her phone. Calling Nadelbaum?

  “Hold on,” I said, and I called Spidermonkey. “Where was the ATM?”

  “Hello. How are you?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day.”

  “You’re forgiven. Let’s see. Nadelbaum took cash out of a Crédit Mutuel about an hour ago. Why?”

  “Where is it?”

  “On the Rue des Abbesses. Does that help?”

  I wanted to scream and I may have squeaked. “Yes. It does.”

  “Are you okay? I transferred the money back the way it came into Madison’s original wallet. I can’t put it in the bank. The mom’s got a two-factor system for security. I can see in the accounts through the bank, but I can’t move anything. A complete pain.”

  “At least something is.”

  “I could do it, but why bother with the effort.”

  I thanked him and hung up. “He took cash out of an ATM across from the metro stop an hour ago,” I said. “We were right there.”

  “He is here.” Madison jolted to her feet, knocking her chair over. “He was at Josephine’s, that witch. Come on.”

  She bounded out of the café and Moe said, “I guess we’re leaving.”

  I was already gone.

  Madison banged on Josephine’s crappy front door, yelling, “Open up, you piece of trash!”

  I caught up and grabbed her. “They could call the police.”

  “Freaking call the police!”

  “Madison!”

  The girl turned and grabbed me. “She told me that he was a bitcoin genius. Then she came to Stuttgart and backed up all that crap about you. She said the plan was flawless and nobody would get hurt!” She was screaming again. “You got hurt. Everybody got hurt. Now she’s getting hurt! I’m going to hurt you, Josephine, you sack of shit!”