Dolly Departed

25

"Daisy's always missing," Gretchen reassured her aunt.

"I have a bad feeling this time," Nina said. "Get in."

Gretchen boldly removed bewigged Tutu from the passenger seat of the Impala and climbed in. The pampered pet, wearing her Barky Braids, snorted at Gretchen from the backseat and turned her head away in disapproval.

"Tutu's miffed," Nina said, driving off. "Why can't you simply share the seat with her?"

Gretchen gave her aunt a withering glare. "You should know the rules better than I do." Gretchen began to tick the points off on her fingers. "Don't feed your dog before you feed yourself. Don't let the dog sleep with its head on the pillow next to you. Don't treat the dog like a supreme being."

"Okay, okay, already. Of course, I know that. I'm a dog trainer. It's just hard for me to apply the same set of rules to Tutu. After all, she was a rescue dog, the poor baby."

Gretchen glanced at Poor Baby and thought she saw the schnoodle grinning smugly back at her. Nimrod wagged his tail, perfectly happy to ride in the back.

"Tutu's spoiled rotten," Gretchen said.

"I know you don't mean that," Nina said, handling the car like a woman who loved to drive. "You're just crabby today."

"Where's Enrico?"

"He's been accepted into a temporary home to see how it works out."

Wonderful! No more snarling and growling from the pint-sized handful every time he didn't like something, which was pretty much all the time. Someone else could deal with his unruly, challenging behavior for a change. Hurray. Nina glanced over. Too late to appear compassionate.

"Don't look so happy," Nina said.

"There's a good reason you charge more to train Chihuahuas, and Enrico is a perfect example of why. Now, tell me about Daisy."

"She was supposed to meet me on Central Avenue. She agreed to help out with a new client, but she didn't show up. I had to cancel. The owner wasn't happy with me."

"That's not like Daisy," Gretchen said.

"If nothing else, she's reliable," Nina agreed. "And I know she needed the money."

"Maybe she's sick."

"She never told me where she was staying. It's a good thing you know," Nina said.

"Turn here."

Nina followed her directions, making several more turns and coming to a halt in the middle of a block when Gretchen instructed her to pull over. They stopped in front of an abandoned house marred by gang symbols. A weedinfested empty lot was next to it.

"The shed is behind this building." Gretchen had been in this neighborhood recently. "Ryan Maize lives close by,"

she said.

"Scary neighborhood," Nina said. "Why would Daisy choose this over a comfy room with you?

"That's a good question."

"I'm locking the pups in the car. They wouldn't be safe on the street. Do you have anything to protect yourself?"

"Like what?" Gretchen got out and waited for Nina.

"Take this." Nina came around the car. She had a silver lipstick case in her hand.

"Lipstick? We're primping before visiting Daisy?"

"Pepper spray disguised as lipstick. I bought two of them online."

Gretchen took the disguised weapon and chuckled. Leave it to Nina to have a custom pepper spray. She opened the cover and tested the spray by pressing on the bottom of the tube. A long, thin line of fluid shot out. Gretchen walked along the side of the boarded-up house, picking her way past a pile of discarded junk until she came to a shed in the back. Nina followed at a distance, her "lipstick" at the ready.

Gretchen tried the door, but it was locked. She peered into the shed through a dirty side window, wiping away some of the grime for a better view. Daisy's shopping cart, bulging with all her worldly possessions, was stashed inside. An unfolded sleeping bag was tossed in the corner.

"She isn't here," Gretchen said.

Nina, standing near the door, let out a screech. "Gretchen, come here. Blood!"

Gretchen rushed to join Nina. Streaks of red ran along the door frame as though someone with bloody hands had leaned on it for support.

"We have to get inside," Gretchen said.

"We should call the police."

"What if Daisy's in the shed, breathing her last breath?

There isn't time. Let's break in, find out if she's there, then decide whether to call for help."

"What about fingerprints?"

"Don't touch anything. I'll be right back."

Gretchen ran to the pile of junk, pulled out a discarded metal table leg, and returned to the shed. She swung her makeshift club at the window, then quickly turned her face away to protect her eyes. The window shattered. She hit at it until she had removed all the shards of glass.

"Windows seem to blow out whenever we're near," Nina observed. "You climb in. You're younger and more athletic. I'll cover you."

Gretchen peered inside the window. What would she do if Daisy was in the shed? What if her homeless friend was dead? The would-be actress with the red hat held a special place in Gretchen's heart. She couldn't be dead. She just couldn't.

"Go!" Nina commanded, managing the operation from a position well out of the way. She fingered the lipstick while scouting for danger from all directions. Gretchen went through the window with the table leg in her fist. She was careful not to touch anything with an open hand, which wasn't the easiest thing to do.

In spite of the sunny, cloudless day, the interior of the small building was dimly lit. But not dark enough to keep her from spotting more dark stains on the floor of the shed. She couldn't tell if it was blood.

The shed smelled of dirty clothes. Glass crunched under her feet as she stepped hesitantly to the shopping cart.

"Hurry up," Nina called in a stage whisper. "We don't have all day."

Gretchen used the table leg to lift off the top layer of worn clothes. Nothing.

"There's blood on the side of the cart," Nina noted from the window.

"Shush." Gretchen scooped out several layers of old clothes, before turning her attention to the corner of the shed.

"Wait." Nina cautiously climbed in and stood beside her. "Daisy could be under the sleeping bag."

They studied it.

Please, Daisy, don't be under there. "You look," Gretchen said. "I can't."

Nina was pale in the light from the window as she took the table leg from Gretchen and lifted the sleeping bag with the end of it. "Gretchen."

"Yes." A lump formed in Gretchen's throat. She squeezed back tears.

"It's just bedding."

Just bedding. Gretchen's legs threatened to give out. She leaned against the wall of the shed for support, feeling weak. This was too personal. Daisy was part of her life.

"Let's get out of here," she said.

"What about all the blood? Shouldn't we call the police?"

"I don't know," Gretchen said, swinging through the broken window. "Let's try to find her first. She wouldn't be happy if she thought we had sent the police after her."

"What about her things?" Nina said, eyeing the cart. "I can't imagine anyone wanting to steal from her, I mean, what's worth taking? But she treats them like treasures."

"Let's put everything in the trunk," Gretchen said, grabbing a pile of clothing. They checked out the soup kitchen and questioned people on the street who knew her. Two women feeding crumbs to the pigeons from a bench on Central Avenue didn't know where she was. No one had seen her.

A phone call told them she hadn't been admitted to a local hospital. At four o'clock they gave up and went home. Daisy had vanished from the homeless community of central Phoenix, leaving behind her precious shopping cart and a trail of blood.