Touch and Go (A Mercy Watts Short) by A.W. Hartoin Read Free Book Online

family?”
    “No. Should I?”
    “You know, the Hortons, Tom and Carol.” She knitted her sparse brows and looked more like a spider than usual. Aunt Miriam was seventy, if she was a day, and weighed about ninety pounds. She thought sunscreen was a marketing ploy and it showed in her paper-thin wrinkled skin. When I was little I thought we were related to Plastic Man, because her scrawny limbs had amazing properties. She could reach an unnatural distance to pop me in the mouth for saying a bad word. “They’re in our parish.”
    Right. I went to church twice a year, at Christmas and Easter. And then it was only for the decorations and treats after.
    “I don’t know them. Sorry.”
    “Dear, I’m really worried about you. You’re forgetting the people in your own parish, your faith.” Her expression hardened. “And what you owe to your fellow man.”
    In Aunt Miriam’s world, a little guilt never hurt anyone.  
    I sighed. “What’s wrong with the Hortons?”
    “Not them. Their daughter.” She went and sat, gingerly, on my sofa. She set her favorite black, patent leather handbag on her lap and began picking imaginary lint off her skirt. She had no lint. It wouldn’t dare.  
    “All right. What’s wrong with the daughter?” Like it or not, I was curious. Some things were inbred. My father was counting on it.
    “First your faith and now your knowledge of the world around you.” She made a tsk noise with her tongue, and I felt like a world-class deviant and so early too. “The daughter is missing, of course. Don’t you watch the news anymore?”
    “Are you talking about Charlotte Horton?” My turn to be satisfied. I didn’t remember the Hortons, but I did watch the news. Every once in a while. A little.  
    “Yes and she’s only thirteen. She’s a runaway.”
    “Is that what the cops say?”
    “I don’t know. Chuck won’t talk to me about it. He says it’s police business.”
    “He’s right.” I hated to take Chuck’s side in anything. He was a detective on the St. Louis police force and my cousin by marriage. He was also an annoying, horny pain in the ass. Aunt Miriam didn’t know about the horny part, I hoped.
    “I don’t believe a word he says. He just means they don’t know anything. I want you to look into it.”
    “Are you crazy?”
    Oops.  
    Aunt Miriam made a growling noise and I went cold. She couldn’t really do anything to me, but she always made me feel as though she could.  
    “What else have you got to do?” she said.
    Work, live my life—you know, stuff like that. “Well…”
    “Good. Then it’s all settled. I’ll expect you at church tomorrow. You can give me an update after Mass.”
    “Tomorrow’s Sunday,” I said. Pointing out the obvious was a speciality of mine.
    “I’m well aware. What is your point, Mercy?”
    “Nothing.” I groaned. “I’ll be there.”
    “That’s what I thought. Goodbye, dear.” Aunt Miriam hopped off the sofa and marched out the door.  
    After some fortifying coffee, I took a shower and considered my options. I could do nothing and risk being thrown out of the family. That didn’t sound too bad, but Thanksgiving was close and I wanted food. Or I could do it. A couple days poking around and Aunt Miriam would be off my back. I went into the bathroom and blow-dried my hair. Who was I kidding? I’d do it.  
    I considered my makeup options while pulling on my most comfortable sweats. If I had to go out, I might as well be comfortable. Makeup has always been a question for me. With it, I’m the spitting image of Marilyn Monroe. Without it, people stare at me and wonder where they know me from.  
    That day there was a complication. My face was discolored from a problem I had while working on another case for dad. That was three weeks ago. My broken nose and cracked jaw had healed, but left a residue of bruises over my cheekbones and under my eyes. My boyfriend, Pete, who’s usually complimentary, said that I looked like I