Diver Down (Mercy Watts Mysteries) Read Online Free Page B

second shift the next night.  
    I got home in the morning and into bed while managing to ignore cellphone messages. Six hours later, the landline Dad insisted I have for his own nefarious purposes began ringing with a decidedly crabby tone. I ignored it. That never worked out for me, but I tried it anyway.  
    After ten separate calls, the answering machine picked up. “Mercy, don’t make me come over there.”  
    Dad. The writer of confidentiality agreements and ruiner of many a date.  
    The phone rang again. This time I picked up. “What?”  
    “Is that how you greet your loving father?” he said.
    “It is today.”  
    “Were you asleep?”
    “I worked a twelve-hour shift last night,” I said.  
    “Well…this is important.”  
    “It always is.”  
    “Did you meet Oz Urbani yesterday?” he asked.
    I didn’t know what to say. That was fast, even for Dad.
    “Mercy. Oz Urbani. Did you meet him?
    “Um…yeah. I guess so,” I said.  
    “Did you or didn’t you?”
    “I did. Why?” I asked.
    “Don’t speak to him again.”  
    “Why not?”  
    “Can’t you just listen and obey?” asked Dad.
    “Hello. This is your daughter speaking.”  
    “Alright. This is how it is. His full name is Oswald Fibonacci Urbani. Get it?”  
    “Not really.” I yawned. This conversation wasn’t nearly as interesting as Dad thought it was.  
    “He’s a Fibonacci as in the Fibonaccis.”  
    “Are you talking about the Mafia family?” I asked.
    “That’s the one. Oz is the nephew of Catone Fibonacci, the supposed head of the family.”
    “Supposed?”  
    “Rumor has it that Catone’s twin, Calpurnia, is the power behind the throne, but it seems unlikely.”
    I blinked. A woman heading a Mafia family? That was unexpected, and, if it were true, the Fibonaccis would be a very well run organization. I shuddered to think what my mother could do with such an army at her beck and call.  
    “So Oswald’s in the mob,” I said. “I didn’t see that coming.”  
    “He’s not officially. He’s a golf pro,” said Dad.  
    “Then why can’t I talk to him?”
    “He’s a Fibonacci. What did he want?”  
    “Maybe he wanted a date,” I said.  
    Dad made a grunt full of sarcasm. “What did he want?”  
    “He wanted me to find out if his sister’s husband is an asshole.”  
    “Stay away from him. You don’t want to owe him or have him owe you.”
    “No problem.”
    Dad hung up after giving me a dozen dire warnings about getting involved with a Fibonacci. They sounded eerily similar to the warnings he used to give me about boys. I almost asked him about the house, but it was pointless. He’d never tell me anything. I’d have to find out the hard way. I wondered what Claire liked more, vodka or tequila. She looked like a lightweight. That would make it easier to get information out of her.
    I fell asleep thinking of the best way to booze information out of Claire. After much less sleep than I wanted, I went in for my last shift before vacation. It ended up being one of my worst nights as a nurse ever. Two children died, one from a head wound sustained falling out of a second story window and the other leukemia. I managed to keep my crying to a half hour in the bathroom and vowed never to return. I told my service not to book me any more shifts on Peds, but I don’t think they took me seriously.  
    I got up when it was dusk and started packing, only to realize my one suitcase was too small for everything Sheila made me buy. I put on one of Sheila’s favorites, a sleeveless shirtdress that managed to cover all my bits, and decided to walk over to my parents’ house to borrow one of Mom’s suitcases. I left my apartment barefoot and swinging my sandals in one hand. The day’s heavy humidity had lifted, leaving a slight chill in the air and a smell that only happened in St. Louis in late August, a sort of clean dirt smell. I did my best to push those two kids out of my mind. I don’t