Goodbye Dolly

31

"Nina, pick up the phone. I know you're home." Gretchen said under her breath, having been reduced, thanks to Nina's antics, to holding conversations with herself. Gretchen disconnected and punched in Nina's cell phone number.

"Nina, I called your house, and you wouldn't answer. Also your answering machine didn't turn on, so I assume that you shut it off. You know I'm worried about this killer, and I'm worried about you. Refusing to talk to me is making my fears worse. Where are you?"

Gretchen struggled to keep the frustration out of her voice.

"If you don't respond to this message within the next two hours, I'm calling the police."

That ought to fire her up. Obviously, Nina wasn't taking overt threats by a maniacal killer seriously. Hadn't Gretchen just received a "you're next" threat hidden inside a Kewpie Doodle Dog? If Nina wasn't concerned about herself, the least she could do was pretend to show a little concern for Gretchen's welfare.

Gretchen ended the message to Nina and speed-dialed her mentor in the Michigan Upper Peninsula.

"Aunt Gertie, I need more advice." She related all the happenings she thought might be associated with the three murders, leaving nothing out. "I'm at a dead end, a brick wall," she finished.

Gertie laughed. "You sure do give up easily. There's lots that you can do. This Chigger-"

"Chiggy."

"Whatever. That woman has some answers, if you can get to her."

"It's impossible."

"Nothing is impossible. You can infiltrate that nursing home if you put your mind to it. Find a time when all the staff are watching some popular soap opera in the nurses'

station and crawl right past. That works every time."

Gretchen decided not to ask her aunt how she came to know this.

"But first, you have to find the bozo who's sending you the messages."

"Impossible."

"I don't ever want to hear you say that word again. It's a sorry excuse for refusing to think your way through a situation. I'm going to help you this time because you're new at this, but after this time, you're on your own. Listen up. Are you listening?"

"I'm listening."

"Sometimes you're dopier than a dwarf. Every single one of those cupid dolls came in the same wrapping. Right?"

Cupid dolls?

Gretchen let the misnomer slide. "Right."

"Then why haven't you been down to that liquor store?"

"How many people would you guess buy alcohol from a liquor store? Hundreds?"

"Stake it out. You'll know the culprit the minute you spot him."

"Aunt Nina thinks it might be a woman."

"Your aunt Nina is one stop short of the nearest loony bin, and the train is leaving the station soon with her on board. Last stop: Nutsville."

"That's a little harsh," Gretchen said in defense of her temperamental aunt. The only reason the two women disagreed so often was because they were exactly the same. Strong, independent females, used to running their own shows, their own ways.

"It's a man, all right," Gertie said again. "Mark my words. I'd hop a plane and help you out, but I've got an investigation going on here that I can't leave. Three murders." Gertie whistled. "That's a handful. Watch your back, dearie."

Gretchen had enough trouble watching her front and flanks. She felt naked as a Kewpie doll but not nearly as happy. Still, she felt better having spoken with her Yooper aunt.

When the doorbell rang and she found April standing outside, Gretchen almost kissed her. Finally, someone to commiserate with.

"I hear you and your shadow are fighting," April said.

"Want some company?"

She noticed Gretchen staring at her outfit. "You like it?" April twirled in a blaze orange sundress the size of the state of Michigan, where wearing orange was the height of fashion. Aunt Gertie's hometown seemed to have one hunting season after another, and everyone wore blaze orange. In Arizona, well, April looked like a retro Volkswagen Beetle.

"Lovely, as usual," Gretchen said, grabbing her purse and calling Nimrod. He charged in, ready to go. Wobbles strutted behind him, graceful and lithe even without his back leg. April bent to pick him up, but he gave her a warning glare and flattened his ears.

"That's one ornery cat," April said, settling for running her hands over his lean back and swiping at his tail.

"He doesn't like to be held," Gretchen said, opening a phone book and running her finger down the list of Albrights. "We have to find out where Matt Albright's wife lives and get the Kewpie dolls back. I'm not sure that they mean anything, but I want them all the same."

April sighed. "Still thinking inside the same old box."

"And then we're going to find Duanne Wilson and get my box of Ginny dolls."

"That's more like it. Do you have a plan?"

"I don't have a clue how to find him, so we'll start with the Kewpies." She checked her watch. Eleven thirty a.m. "I gave Nina a two-hour warning. She's not answering my calls."

"That's easy. You want me to get her to respond?"

"Sure."

April picked up the kitchen phone and dialed. "By the way," she said to Gretchen, eyeing the phone book. "The Albrights aren't listed in the directory. Detectives don't usually advertise their home addresses, too many dissatisfied customers. But I know where she lives. Kayla has the house, and he's staying at… Nina, pick up. It's me, April… We're tracking down evidence, and we hope to crack the case today. If you want in on the apprehension and fame and glory, you better pick up the phone."

April paused as though listening and grinned at Gretchen.

"Yes," she said smugly into the phone. "We'll pick you up on the drive-by, and I'll give you the details then."

"See?" she said, hanging up. "You have to appeal to the adventuress in her. Let's go."