A.W. Hartoin - Mercy Watts 04 - Drop Dead Red Read Online Free Page A

 
    “Are you freaking kidding me?” My cheeks flushed and the top popped off my cup.  
    “Nope. That crew is on fire and they blame Donatella for the massacre.”  
    “I thought Blankenship confessed.”  
    “He did, but they’re pushing for an investigation into Donatella.” Dad sucked the last ounce of sweet tea out of his giant cup.  
    “Her kids almost died. Are they crazy?”  
    “Ameche says they’re dirtbags and the dirtbags think the meningitis was pretty convenient for Donatella, since it saved her life and the kids’ lives.”  
    “What do they think, that she gave them meningitis?” I asked.  
    “That’s exactly what they think and they’re pushing hard.”  
    “Who has the case?”
    Please don’t say Chuck.  
    “Sidney Wick. Good guy and he’s taking it seriously.”  
    “Ameche must be totally losing it.”  
    “That’s putting it mildly.”  
    I wrapped up my sandwich for later. One does not throw away a Gioia’s salami, even when one thinks they might throw up. “I’m so afraid to ask, but what do you want me to do? I assume Blankenship didn’t implicate Donatella, so this isn’t going anywhere.”  
    Dad shook his head. “You’ve been around, Mercy. That isn’t close to the end of it. People have been sent to death row on nothing more than circumstantial evidence.”
    “And I’m supposed to…”
    “You’re a nurse. I want you to nip this in the bud. Talk to the doctor and find out if it’s remotely possible that Donatella could’ve orchestrated this illness thing. Off the top of your head, what do you think?”  
    “With what you’ve told me, I’d have to say yes.”  
    Dad sat bolt upright. “Are you serious?”  
    “I’m not saying it would be easy, but it could be done. Donatella would have to be willing to risk her own children’s lives to do it. You’d have to study the disease course and time everything perfectly, but you could do it, if you infected the children directly.”  
    “Shit.”  
    “You didn’t expect that?”  
    “Hell, no. Change in plans. When do you work again?”
    “Tonight at eleven. I can’t do anything else. I have to sleep. I’m working to seven.”  
    “Sleep’s for wussies.” Dad wasn’t joking. He really thought that sleep was for the undisciplined. “I need you out at Hunt in an hour. Yeah…I can swing it in an hour.”  
    Hunt? What the heck is Hunt?
    “I’ll have to pull a few strings, but I’ll get you in,” he said.  
    I sipped my tea and watched my father think. You could see everything on his face. Of course he could hide absolutely every emotion when necessary, but that day he didn’t bother. His eyes darted around. His mouth moved. He looked like a total nutter.  
    “That’s what we’ll do. First, Hunt. And then, the hospital. I’ll handle Morty. Agreed?” he asked.  
    “What’s Hunt?” I asked.  
    “Hunt Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Think, Mercy.”  
    “Holy crap! Why would I ever, in a million years, go there?”  
    “Because you’re going to interview Blankenship.”  
    “What’s he doing out there? Why isn’t he in the regular lockup?” I started looking for an escape route through the lunch crowd.  
    Dad snorted and shook the remaining ice in his cup. “He had a psychotic break in lockup. Duty officer now has eight facial fractures. They should’ve shot Blankenship.”  
    “Wasn’t he cuffed?” I asked. A visit to Hunt was sounding less appealing all the time.  
    “Did it with his head. The powers that be decided they couldn’t handle him and sent him out to Hunt for the experts to deal with. Best to get that bastard out of the city anyway. Best, if you think a lynch mob isn’t a good option.”  
    “Sidney must’ve interviewed him about Donatella. There’s no point in me going,” I said, sliding back my chair. It made a hideous screech on the linoleum and everyone looked at us again.  
    “Sidney is a fifty-year-old bald guy with gout