Read Nowhere Fast (A Mercy Watts Short) for Free Online

in the morning at his Florissant address. An hour later I was at Morty’s apartment.  
    Morty in his PJ’s was something I never expected to see, but there he was. They were a striped flannel affair that didn’t fit any better than his black sweats.
    “I cannot believe we missed a murder by forty-five minutes. Christ!”
    “How’d you hear about it?”
    “Rodney heard it on the scanner.”
    “Why does Rodney have a scanner?”
    “He likes to keep current.”
    “Don’t serial killers do that?”
    “He’s not a serial killer.”
    I raised an eyebrow. I could see Rod as a serial killer. No problem. “Fine. Any suspects?”
    “Terry Obermark for heaven’s sake. Can you believe that shit! We gotta get her tonight.”
    “Charley?”
    “Yes, Charley. Are you in there?” He tapped me on the side of the head and handed me a cappuccino. Morty makes a mean mocha.
    “Tonight sounds good to me.”
    “I’ll pick you up at eight. Bring the pepper spray. Do you have a gun?”
    “I’m not licensed to carry.”
    “Shit, that’s right. Don’t worry, I’ll think of something.”
    “Don’t you have a game tonight?”
    “Look. Charley belonged to Jamie. He’s dead and she’s going to become someone else’s property. And I doubt it will be in St. Louis. Screw the game.”
    I hadn’t been worried until he’d said that. Dungeon masters do not say “Screw the game.” I’ve known Morty since I was twelve and he only missed one Saturday night in all those years. My appendix burst and he waited at the hospital with Mom and Dad while I was in surgery. Plus, he hadn’t mentioned what this was going to cost me.

    I left Morty tugging at his pajama top and went grocery shopping. When I got home, Pete was snoring in the bedroom with Skanky curled up on his chest like a furry brick. I took a shower and fought the urge to go stealth myself. Instead, I put on my favorite worn-out jeans with a turtleneck and ski jacket. With cowboy boots for style, I was ready.
    Morty knocked on my door at eight and he wasn’t alone. His cronies were all in stealth mode and three out of four had tool belts. Aaron didn’t have one. He couldn’t keep his pants up normally.
    “What’s the deal?” I said, pointing at the extras.
    “Since there’s no game, we decided to ride along,” said Steve tugging at his pants.
    “Are you kidding me with this?”
    “Problem?” said Mort.
    Define problem. “Er… The more the merrier.”
    “Good. Let’s hit it. What’s that noise?”
    “Pete’s sleeping.”
    “Doesn’t he want to go?” asked Aaron.
    Oh, yeah. He’s dying to hang out with three, maybe four social misfits with chili breath and chronic weirdness. It didn’t help that every time they saw him, they watched him like he was a separate species.
    “He’s tired,” I said.
    We went downstairs and split up. Mort got Rodney and Steve. I got Aaron. Fantastic. It took forty-five minutes to get to Jamie Crane’s former residence and Aaron never stopped talking. He covered his mother, chili, his back, his mother again, Morty as a dungeon master and hot dogs, for some reason. I had to pinch my thighs to stay awake. The next time I had insomnia, I knew who to call.

    Jamie’s house was busy, despite his murder the night before. The crime scene tape was down and half a dozen people were coming and going. I used my binoculars and I saw two young girls coming out the side door. Neither were Charley. Then a Mercedes dropped off a couple more girls. At ten-thirty, somebody turned on a stereo and the house started rocking.
    Dozens of men and young girls milled around the house and yard, getting friendly. I was surprised nobody had called the cops yet. The quiet family types in the neighborhood probably didn’t appreciate Jamie’s wake, but maybe they knew who they were dealing with and decided to turn a blind eye. I didn’t see Charley. If we had to spend the entire night, I wasn’t sure Aaron would survive it. He’d moved on to the