Read A Good Man Gone (Mercy Watts Mysteries) for Free Online

stood up straight.
    “You don’t need to go and bother Sister Miriam about this.”
    “She’s my aunt. I live to bother her. Is Dr. Grace in?”
    “No.” Dr. Forester looked over my head towards the door when he said it.
    “Are you sure?”
    “Absolutely,” he said.
    “I don’t believe you.”
    “I’m not accustomed to being accused of lying.”
    “Well, get accustomed, because I’m not changing my opinion. Where’s his office?” I asked.
    “You really have no business being here.”
    “I sure do. If the family wants you to tell me your results, then you have to tell me, or didn’t they teach you that at Wash U?”
    “You should go now. It’s time for my lunch.” Forester gestured toward the door.
    “It’s three-thirty.”
    “I eat late.”
    “Right. I guess I’ll have to find Dr. Grace on my own.” I stood up and walked out the door without another word.
    Who the hell did he think he was? As if I’d go to coffee with a man who’d hit on me while surrounded by pictures of his wife. Bastard. Actually, not only was he a bastard, he was damned unhelpful, too, and I started to get a feeling. My feelings aren’t about mess, but about getting a huge pain in the ass. Like Dad and his feelings, I was rarely off base about my ass.
    Dr. Grace’s office was easy to find and, as luck would have it, he was in it, sitting behind a stack of charts so high that at first all I saw was a mop of iron gray hair and horn-rimmed glasses.
    “Excuse me, Dr. Grace?”
    “Yes. Can I help you?” He straightened up and I got the full view of an unsurprised man. One who didn’t find me particularly out of the ordinary. He must’ve met Mom.
    “If you’re not too busy. I’m Mercy Watts. I believe you know my father, Tommy Watts.”
    “Good old Tommy. How’s he doing these days? Still making the rounds as a PI?”
    “Sure is, and he told me to look you up as a favor to him.”
    “About a case of his?” Dr. Grace’s eyebrows went up.
    “Not really. It’s more of a family matter. Gavin Flouder was a partner of his in the old days. Dad worked with him for a while when he went private. We were wondering if you could take a look at him for us,” I said.
    “Gavin Flouder, Gavin Flouder,” he said as he thumbed through a stack of paper on his desk.
    “He died on Sunday.”
    “Right. Here he is. Forester had his case. Have you talked to him?”
    “You could say that,” I said.
    “Not very forthcoming, I take it.”
    “Not at all.”
    “What are you looking for?” Dr. Grace asked.
    “He supposedly had a MI. We’d like to make sure. He did have a heart condition, but Dad has a feeling.”
    “Tommy and his feelings. Not that I doubt him. I’ve known him too long for that. What about you? Do you have a feeling, too?”
    “Let’s just say I don’t like it.”
    “That’s good enough for me. I’ll take a look. I’ll call you and we’ll go over the results together.” Dr. Grace got up and walked me out his door to the elevator. While we were walking, I could see him giving me sly glances. He wanted to throw out the Marilyn comment, but was too polite to do it. Instead, we chatted about Dad and the declining state of the police force. I left feeling better about Gavin’s case, but worse about my ass.

Chapter Four
    DR. GRACE HELD Gavin’s body for two days and then called me down from orthopedics for a talk, as he put it. I arrived at ten in the morning, and the morgue was hopping. There were no less than five detectives, a police photographer, and a couple of beat cops standing around drinking coffee. One of the detectives was my cousin, Chuck Watts.
    Chuck saw me and, before I could react, walked over with his patent self-assurance that that never failed to irritate me. He looked good as he always did. He once told me that only ten percent of the world’s population is attractive. He definitely considers himself in the top ten percent, maybe top five. I hated to admit it, but he was right. Chuck