Mercy Kill_ A Mystery - Lori Armstrong [73]
Geneva eased the car back on the road. Her silence bothered me more than her constant chattering. When I couldn’t stand the silence any longer, I snapped, “Spit it out before you choke on it.”
“Speaking as your campaign manager? I’ll do everything to help you get the win you deserve. But speaking as your friend? My heart is breaking for you and the decision you’ve made to put duty ahead of your personal life again.” She careened into the library parking lot and screeched to a stop. “I accused you of being selfish last summer. Christ. You can’t know how that eats at me, Mercy, because I see how wrong I was. You’ve given everything for everyone else. You deserve something good for yourself.”
How was I supposed to respond to that?
Luckily, I didn’t have to. Kiki knocked on the window and tapped her watch.
“We’re late. Come on, candidate Gunderson, your committee awaits you,” Geneva said, and the matter was closed.
For now. But she’d given me a lot to think about, none of it campaign related.
Anna and I were lounging on the sofa, drinking beer, watching the first season of Lost on the TV/DVD combo she’d haggled for at Pete’s Pawnshop, when my cell phone rang. “Hello?”
“Mercy? It’s Winona. Look, I don’t have much time, but I wanted you to know that Cherelle just walked in.”
“She alone?”
“For now.”
“Good. I’ll be there in fifteen. Keep her there—give her free drinks, whatever.”
“I’ll try.” Winona hung up.
I vaulted to my feet and shimmied out of my loungewear, dressing in the ensemble I’d worn earlier. Except I added my favorite accessory in my back pocket: my Kahr Arms P380. I sat on the bed and tugged on my blue-camo Old Gringo boots.
Anna leaned in the door frame. “Where’s the fire?”
“Clementine’s. It’s not on fire, but someone I’ve been wanting to talk to just showed up, so I’ve got to go.”
“Is this more campaign crap?”
“No.”
A gleam appeared in her eyes. “This has to do with Jason?”
She’d see through a lie, so I didn’t bother. “Yes.”
“I knew you wouldn’t let this just fade away. You still feel like you owe him, don’t you?”
“I do owe him, Anna.”
“So do I. I’m coming with you.”
I didn’t have time to argue with her. “Get a move on then.”
Surprisingly, Anna didn’t pester me for more details on the drive to Clementine’s.
My candidacy was the perfect excuse to wander through various clusters of bar patrons. Anna hit the bar, and I presented a big ol’ smile to George Johnson’s group. “Hey, guys. How’s it going?”
“Good. You out on official business?” George asked.
“Yep. Pressing flesh. I figured I deserved a little liquid fortification beforehand.”
Mike lifted a plastic cup off a stack in the center of the table and poured me a beer. “The first one’s on us.”
“Thanks.”
“How about a toast?” Rocky raised his cup, and the guys at the table followed his lead. “To Mercy Gunderson, the next sheriff of Eagle River County.”
I smiled and drank up. For the next few minutes, I made banal chitchat with my supporters as I closed in on my real target in the back room.
After I talked to members of the dart league, I waltzed right up to Cherelle’s table and thrust out my hand. “Mercy Gunderson. I’m running for Eagle River County sheriff.”
She ignored my hand. But she didn’t duck her scarred face from view as I’d expected. A sneer settled on her misshapen mouth. “I don’t give a flying fuck who you are. Not interested. Get lost.”
“Now, Cherelle, is that any way to start a conversation? When I just want to talk about the issues that affect you personally?”
Her eyes flashed annoyance. “If you know my name, then you also know you don’t wanna be around when my friends get here.”
“Speaking of friends . . . we have a mutual friend.”
“I doubt it.”
I paused. “But you did know Jason Hawley, Cherelle.”
“Never heard of him.” Cherelle slid to the end of the booth, intending to leave.
“No need to run off. My buddy Anna just got here. And look. She brought refreshments.”
Anna set three cups and a pitcher of beer in the middle