Nina rammed through the Impala's gears. "I really don't know why you insist on getting involved in Daisy's life,"
she said. "She's perfectly happy where she is."
Gretchen didn't know how anyone could be content to roam the Phoenix streets without a place to sleep or a guaranteed meal.
"I'm not convinced of that," Gretchen said. "This is a good time to check on her, since we have a few extra hours. And maybe she knows something about Ronny that will be helpful. The street people seem to be connected to the city's pulse."
She gazed out the window. "Like Native American drum signals. I don't know how they do it."
Daisy, a homeless drama queen, and her alcoholic friend, Nacho, had entered Gretchen's life right after she'd arrived in Phoenix, and she felt a special fondness for them, even though their refusal to accept her offers of assistance frustrated her beyond words. Traffic on Central Avenue edged slowly forward, the perpetual gridlock an inescapable fact of life in Phoenix. For once, Gretchen didn't mind. It gave her an opportunity to think about Ronny's death and Steve's connection to her knife.
"Why didn't you tell Matt that you think the knife belongs to you?" Nina asked from the driver's seat of her red Impala.
"I don't know. I'd like to wait a little longer. I just have a bad feeling about the whole thing."
"That's my girl. Your inherited psychic gifts are finally kicking in."
"Because I have a bad feeling about a murder, and my repair tool was used as a weapon?"
"Exactly." Nina punched the horn and slammed on the brakes when the car ahead of her stopped abruptly. "My nerves are shot," she said. "I think it's a combination of the heat and Ronny's murder."
"You should have let me drive."
"You're always lost. I'll take care of the driving. You pay attention to where we're going and start orienting yourself to Phoenix's streets. I've never known anyone with such a poor sense of direction."
"I haven't gotten lost for a long time."
"Right. Sure."
"There she is." Gretchen pointed. "Pull over."
Nina edged to the curb and idled in a no parking zone.
"Make it quick," she said, adjusting the bows in her hair. "I don't want a ticket."
As soon as the car stopped, all three dogs began prancing in the backseat, running into each other and yipping. Gobs of canine goo streaked the back windows. Nimrod and Tutu recognized Daisy immediately, and their chorus resounded at a nerve-racking level.
Daisy sat alone on a wooden bench wearing a baggy purple dress and a red baseball cap, and weeping into a corner of the dress.
"What's wrong, Daisy?" Gretchen said, getting out of the car and sitting down beside her.
"Oh, hey." Daisy looked up and sniffed, trying to compose herself. "I'm okay."
"Your bedroom is still waiting for you, whenever you feel like stopping by."
"Thanks, Gretchen, but it's hard to get noticed by talent scouts way up there by the mountain. I need to be on the streets. Visible. Besides, I have everything I need right here with me."
She motioned to a shopping cart wedged between the bench and an electrical pole. It was packed with old clothes and other miscellaneous items Daisy had found in her wanderings.
"Any luck with the acting yet?" Gretchen slung her arms across the back of the bench. She saw Nina scowl at her from the car.
"Soon," Daisy said, sniffling. "I just need my first big break. Then it's Hollywood, here I come."
Gretchen wished she had paid more attention in her college psych classes. Daisy talked incessantly of her future as a movie star. There must be a clinical name for it. Not that a label mattered. The woman would never agree to psychological testing or medication.
"You know, I promised to look out for you," Gretchen said. After Daisy almost died in a car accident, Gretchen had made a vow to herself that she planned on fulfilling, with or without Daisy's cooperation.
"I know you did." Daisy's eyes were red and rimmed with tears.
"You're not making it easy."
"Don't worry about me. Worry about Nacho," Daisy said, beginning to sob again.
"What's going on?" Gretchen felt a tightness in her chest, and she sat up straighter.
"They did a sweep again. I can't find him."
"Oh, no."
Daisy shook her head sorrowfully. "They came in a van,"
she said, "and rounded us up as we came out of the soup kitchen. I ducked back inside, but Nacho wasn't quick enough."
Angry, Gretchen looked down the street as though she might spot the van. "How long ago?"
Daisy shrugged helplessly and looked off into the distance. "I don't know. Awhile."
Nina blew the horn.
"Come with us," Gretchen said, rising from the bench.
"We'll help you look for him."
"I can't leave my stuff behind."
Gretchen eyed the mounded shopping cart. "It won't fit in the car," she said.
Daisy looked up and down the street, then she called out, and two women left a bench farther down and started over.
"We're neighbors," Daisy said. "They'll watch my things."
"Hey, doggies." Daisy slid into the backseat, and the canines pounced on her with a volley of delighted squeals. Gretchen saw Nina scrunch her nose at the new odors permeating the Impala. Nina rolled down her window a few inches.
"Nacho's been relocated again," Gretchen informed Nina.
"Isn't that illegal?" Nina asked. "To take Nacho against his will and drop him off someplace else?"
"I suppose," Daisy said. "But what's he going to do about it? Sue?"
"They probably didn't take him far," Nina said. "Last time, wasn't he dumped in Mesa?"
"And he found his way back," Gretchen said to reassure Daisy. "He'll be back this time, too."
Nina nodded. "He could be anywhere, but he's resourceful."
She shot into traffic and wove expertly between lanes.
"You're right," Daisy said. "He'll come back. He wouldn't leave me by myself for long."
"You know," Gretchen said, changing the subject. "Ronny Beam was murdered a few hours ago."
"I heard," Daisy said.
"How did you find out already? It just happened."
"It's all over the street. Nobody liked Ronny much."
"That's an understatement if I ever heard one," Nina muttered.
"Last January he came to our campsite," Daisy said.
"He said he wanted to see how we make it through the winter. Like Phoenix winters ever get that cold. He was really obnoxious. He had cheap wine in a paper bag and tried to panhandle from an undercover cop. Everybody was relieved when they arrested him and carted him away."
"Dumb as a brick," Nina said.
Daisy had all three dogs on her lap. Her newest fan, Sophie, rode in the crook of her arm. "Who killed him?" she asked.
Nina shrugged, her eyes on the road. "Could have been anyone who ever met the creep."
"Could be you," Daisy said. "You really didn't like him."
"Oh, my." Nina slowed down and glanced in the backseat at Daisy. "I had a fight with him yesterday in front of all kinds of witnesses."
"It was quite a fight," Gretchen said to Daisy. "She hit him with her pepper spray."
"What do you think, Gretchen? Am I a suspect?"
"No, of course not," Gretchen reassured her. "You were at your table the whole time, weren't you?"
Nina paused to think about it. Then she grinned widely.
"Yup. I was."
"And you have all kinds of witnesses to that," Gretchen said. "You're off the hook."
Gretchen thought of Steve's altercation with Ronny, which had taken place in front of as many, if not more, witnesses. She couldn't say the same for him.
Daisy showered and changed her clothes while Nina occupied her time with a training session for Sophie. This was Gretchen's chance to get some much-needed advice, and her aunt Gertie in Michigan was the perfect person to ask for it.
Gretchen could use a break from personal conflict, and the last thing she wanted was for Nina to know about this phone call. She closed the workshop door to ensure privacy. Aunt Nina and Aunt Gertie didn't get along, mainly because they were both strong, opinionated alpha females. Gertie Johnson came from Gretchen's father's side of the family and was only related to Nina through marriage. Nina mentioned that fact every time Gertie's name came up in conversation.
When the familiar voice answered, Gretchen said, "How are things in the Upper Peninsula?"
"Still holding together," Aunt Gertie said. "The fall colors are at their peak. You should come for a visit."
"I'd like that. Still running your private investigation service?"
"Of course. Someone has to catch criminals. You don't expect my sheriff son to be doing much."
Blaze, Gretchen's cousin, ran the local law enforcement service like The Andy Griffith Show. Stonely, Michigan, had a lot in common with Mayberry. So did Blaze and Barney Fife. No wonder her aunt took the law into her own hands.
"And how are Star and Heather?" Her aunt had named all her kids for the horses she never had.
"They're fine. But you didn't call to chitchat," Aunt Gertie said. "I can hear it in your voice. Something's happened."
Gretchen related recent events, including her suspicions about Steve. "Maybe I should have told Matt the truth," she finished.
"You did the right thing. You don't even know what the truth is yet. If you had told him, Steve would be in jail right this minute, and the police would have considered the case closed."
"I'm aiding and abetting."
"Nothing of the sort. What if they had arrested you? If it was your knife, maybe you're being set up."
"I hadn't thought of that." In all the excitement, the ramification of the weapon in Ronny's back belonging to her hadn't sunk in. How could she explain how the knife got there?
"You don't really think Steve killed the reporter, do you?" Gertie asked.
"No." Gretchen wished her voice was firmer.
"Do you want to find the real killer?"
"Of course."
"Then figure it out."
That was Gertie. Making the impossible sound simple. In an emergency, Gertie Johnson was the person to be with. Totally self-sufficient. Maybe it came from living in the isolation of northern Michigan. Maybe it was just Gertie's resilient nature.
"Exactly what did Ronny say to you at the doll show?"
"He said that some story he was working on was about to blow sky high. He said something like this is better news than dolls murdering people."
"That's odd," Gertie said.
"The guy is… was odd. I'm sure the comment didn't mean anything."
Gertie's sigh was unmistakable. "This is what I keep trying to tell Blaze. When murder's involved, everything is important. You need to find out what he meant by that."
"And how do I find out?"
"The guy was a reporter. He wrote stuff down, right?"
"Right." Gretchen remembered Ronny's recording unit.
"Start with a thorough search of his house. And Gretchen, watch your back."
The line went dead.
Gretchen's back was feeling extremely exposed and vulnerable.
"Ronny lived in the Palm Tree Trailer Park," Nina said.
"Off of Twenty-fourth Street."
"Did Daisy tell you that?"
Nina nodded. "Daisy never stops talking."
"She knows everything. It's amazing."
"She just wants to stretch out on the couch and watch television all day. She's clutching the remote like it's a newborn baby."
Gretchen sat at the worktable. Pieces from a balljointed doll body lay before her. "Nineteen pieces," she said, holding up a lower leg. "And it's been taken completely apart. How am I going to figure this out? I hope I don't have this many dolls to repair again tomorrow, or I'll never get through them all. I've hardly started this bunch."
"First day is always the busiest. You'll have time tomorrow at the show to catch up."
Gretchen looked at the assortment of dolls requiring restringing and shook her head in dismay.
"Perk up," Nina said. "I have something special for you."
"What?" Gretchen spun her stool around. "A present?
For me?"
"For you." Nina handed her a plastic bag with Beyond the Galaxy etched on the side. "Open it," she said, grinning. Gretchen peeked into the bag, then looked at Nina, puzzled. She extracted a pair of glasses with cardboard frames and indigo-colored lenses. "Are they 3-D glasses?"
"No, no. These are aura glasses. They're going to help you see auras."
Gretchen stared at Nina. According to her aunt, colors emanated from all matter, including cacti, doll collections, and wee-wee pads. She could divine the future, she claimed, by studying the color surrounding a human body. Gretchen had no hard evidence to back up Nina's outrageous claim, nor was she expecting Nina to ever prove it conclusively.
"Put them on," Nina said, excited.
Feeling foolish, Gretchen slipped on the flimsy frames.
"Now what?"
"Well? What do you see?"
Gretchen's gaze fell on Wobbles, her three-legged cat, who at the moment was occupied with a small, fuzzy ball. He batted it across the room and pounced, unaware that he had a physical handicap. "I don't know. I guess I see light around Wobbles."
Nina clapped her hands. "I knew you had the gift. Now, what color are you seeing?"
"I'm not seeing a color, just light." Gretchen pulled off the frames and looked at them. "The tint on the lenses must draw light."
"No, the tint has nothing to do with it," Nina said, indignant. "It's happening because of you. Keep working with them. With practice, you'll see colors, and then we'll talk about what the different colors represent. Eventually, you won't need the glasses. You'll be just like me."
Gretchen stifled a burst of laughter and turned it into a throat clearing. Just like her aunt? She didn't think so. No one on this planet was just like Nina.
"So you're telling me that you see different colors around everyone?"
"Almost everyone."
"Who's the exception?"
Nina squirmed.
"Come on, tell me." She was on to something.
"Men," Nina said, reluctantly. "I can't see male auras."
Gretchen chuckled.
"I can't figure men out either. I'm sure special glasses won't help."
"Do you like them?" Nina asked, meaning the glasses.
"Love them," Gretchen replied, meaning the men.
"You never know when they'll come in handy," Nina said. "Carry them in your purse."
"I will." Gretchen laid the glasses on the cluttered workbench. "I need to pack up more Ginny dolls for tomorrow. If the show had stayed open another few hours, I would have sold out."
She rummaged through her mother's sale stock and selected a safari Ginny, a graduation Ginny in a white robe, and a drum majorette Ginny in a red uniform. "These are so cute. I hate to sell them."
"You'll make your mother proud," Nina said, taking them from Gretchen and laying them on the worktable. She peered into the bag of dolls awaiting repair. "Look,"
she said, "Here's that package from our friendly postal employee. You never opened it."
Gretchen sighed. "It's probably one more doll that needs repairing."
Nina ripped open the outer wrapping with one fluid, practiced motion and worked her fingernails around the edges of the package, loosening the tape. "It's wrapped well," she commented, removing a layer of bubble wrap and setting it aside.
Gretchen continued digging through boxes looking for more dolls her mother wanted to sell. "I can't find any more Ginnys. I guess I'll take Barbie dolls."
"Gretchen, look what was in the package." Nina held up a Blunderboo Kewpie doll.
Gretchen rose and took the Kewpie from Nina. She turned it over in her hand. The three-inch doll bore the O'Neill mark on its feet and the red heart on its belly. "It has the same markings as the one that broke yesterday. Only this one is real. And unbroken."
"Why send a perfectly fine doll to be repaired?" Nina asked. "That doesn't make sense."
Gretchen ran her finger over its naked, chubby body and almost dropped it in startled surprise.
Under her fingers, she felt a crack where the head and body had been reconnected.
"Nina, this one's been repaired, too."
"In the same place?"
"Yes."
Nina clamped a hand across her mouth theatrically, her eyes wide. Then she removed her hand to speak. "I have a bad feeling about this."
Gretchen stared at the doll. "It's a coincidence. A fluke."
"Then who sent it?"
Gretchen dug through the packaging but couldn't find a return address. "Was it wrapped in this?" Gretchen held up a brown paper bag.
Nina nodded.
Gretchen turned the bag over and saw Bert's Liquor printed on it. Then she looked at the rest of the packaging.
"There's no note, but it looks like it was sent locally, from here in Phoenix."
"I have a premonition," Nina said, lowering her husky voice dramatically. "Someone sent this doll as a warning."
Gretchen placed the Kewpie in a stand and stood it upright on top of a bin filled with doll clothes. "We'll take it to the doll show tomorrow and see if anyone knows where it came from."
Like her aunt, Gretchen didn't believe in coincidence. But the reason why someone would send it escaped her. Nina thought it was a warning, but if so, where was the message?
The doll didn't need repair. That had already been done. And there was no return address.
What was going on?