Detective Albright's estranged wife, Kayla, lived in the Fairview Place Historic District in Central Phoenix. Taking directions from her two backseat drivers, Gretchen drove along McDowell Road and turned on Sixteenth Avenue.
"Slow down. That's it right there," April announced, pointing at a Tudor with a For Sale sign in front of it. Garbage cans lined the curb up and down the street. Nina undid her seat belt when Gretchen stopped the car. She leaned forward. "I never noticed how small your Echo was until I had to sit in the back."
"You'd have a lot more room if you'd leave the dogs home," April said, voicing what Gretchen thought but was afraid to say. Communication with her aunt was still tenuous.
Nimrod, Tutu, and Sophie, the Yorkie trainee, bounced back and forth across Nina's lap, smearing the windows with wet nose goo. It looked like doggie day care in the backseat.
"Cozy," April said, gazing at the house.
"Unpretentious," Nina added. "Bonnie told me that Matt's staying with a cop friend until the house sells. Bonnie wanted him to move home, but he refused. Probably all those dolls in Bonnie's house. Even though he's working on his phobia, that would be hard. Besides, who wants to move home with their mo-" She clasped a hand across her mouth.
Gretchen pretended not to hear. She had to look for her own apartment ASAP.
"We're in luck," she said, pulling to the curb. "It's garbage pickup day, and there it is."
How lucky could she be? The box sat right out in the front yard. No need to confront Matt's wife over it. She'd simply swipe it back.
That is, if the dolls were still inside the box.
"Everyone stay here," Gretchen said, unlatching the trunk from inside the car. "We'll make this as quick as possible."
"I'll get it," April said, making a move to open her door.
"No," Gretchen said firmly. "I made the mistake of giving it to the wrong person, and I'll fix my own mistake."
What she didn't say was that the words April and quick created an oxymoron, impossible to use together in the same sentence. Even on a good day, April moved with the speed of a tarantula.
Gretchen popped out of the Echo before April could react, ran around the front of the car, opened the box flaps to make sure that the broken doll pieces were still there, and picked up the box.
"What do you think you're doing?" an angry voice shouted from the house.
"Just salvaging a few things before the truck hauls it away," Gretchen replied, keeping her back to the woman in hopes that she wouldn't be recognized. "For our church rummage sale."
"Get out of my yard, Gretchen Birch. Haven't you done enough damage?"
Gretchen turned and risked a glance at the enraged woman. She was everything Gretchen wasn't. Wispy thin, fine bones and features, silky brunette tresses featuring both highlights and lowlights. With the right gown and necklace, she could have been the lead model for the stacks of paperback romance novels sold in every airport.
Gretchen felt chubby, awkward, mousy, and a multitude of other unattractive adjectives.
Kayla picked up a decorative stone from the base of a prickly pear cactus and flung it toward Gretchen. It bounced off her car, and a small scratch appeared in the finish.
"Drop the box," Kayla said, picking up more stones.
"Or I'll hit your car again." She cocked her arm like she thought she was Joe DiMaggio.
Gretchen dropped the box and heard the porcelain pieces inside rattling around.
Kayla marched up with a fistful of stones and stopped when she saw Gretchen's bodyguards rising from the Echo.
April emerged in her orange regalia, followed by Nina with her out-of-control canines lunging at the ends of three dainty leashes.
"Back off," Nina said, threateningly, "or I'll let them go, and it won't be pretty."
A loud snort burst from April, and she and Nina started laughing hysterically.
"Get out of here, or I'll call the police," Kayla said, whirling on Gretchen. "You can have him. You did me a huge favor, you know."
"I really don't know what you're talking about."
Gretchen sized up the distance from the box to the trunk and thought about making a run for it. She could always leave the comedy team behind. The only thing that stopped her from abandoning her convulsing sidekicks was Nimrod. She couldn't leave without him.
"Act innocent all you want," Kayla snarled. "Just be careful what you wish for. He's not what he seems on the surface, that golden boy fake front. He's been threatening my life, you know. I have a restraining order to keep him away. The man is insane."
April lumbered over and picked up the box, still trying to stifle her giggles, and Kayla didn't move while she stowed it in the trunk. Who could blame her? April could have been a sumo wrestler in her younger days. "Let's go,"
April said, slamming the trunk closed. "Everybody in."
Kayla stood glaring at them as they screeched from the neighborhood. Two blocks away, Gretchen glanced in her rearview mirror. Kayla still stood motionless, watching.
"Good thing you had us along," April said.
"Well, that confirms it," Nina said. "Bonnie's right. She needs to be heavily medicated."
Gretchen didn't respond. Kayla was certainly bitter and vengeful and could be making up things about Matt. She wasn't an entirely believable source, but her comments about Matt drove another wedge in the small crack of mistrust that already existed. Gretchen glanced into the backseat and did a head count. Three women, three dogs. The trunk held a box of broken Kewpie dolls poorly crafted by Chiggy Kent. All accounted for.
"You should have seen the swirl of dark colors whirling around her. It was like the middle of a dust storm," Nina said from the backseat. "That woman's dangerous."
Nina seemed back to normal, entourage in tow and energy fields spurting all around her. "Have you been practicing with your aura glasses?" she asked.
"I haven't had time."
"What glasses?" April asked.
"Check them out. They're in Gretchen's purse."
"Mind if I find them?" April said, picking up Gretchen's purse. "This thing must weigh twenty pounds." She looked inside. "Jeez."
"They're in the side pocket," Gretchen said, turning toward the senior center that housed the evasive doll maker. April extracted the cardboard glasses. "What are they supposed to do?" she asked, putting them on.
Nina explained auras and the practiced ability to see colors emanating from people.
April turned to study Gretchen, squinting through the aura glasses. "I see something, kind of like yellow light."
"Wonderful," Nina clapped her hands. "You're very advanced for a novice."
"Nina," Gretchen said, "isn't light normally yellow?"
"The reason you can't see anything is because of your skepticism," Nina retorted. "You have to let go of your rigid thinking, learn to use your third eye, and embrace the visual that doesn't necessarily follow human logic. Logic, I will remind you, that is flawed to begin with."
"Here it is." Gretchen turned into the driveway of an institutional building that was well-disguised as a senior community for well-heeled Arizonians. She pulled up to a guard station and lowered her window.
"We're here to see Florence Kent," she informed the man when he stuck his head out of the door. "Please open the gate."
He poked his head back inside, pulled a radio from his belt, and spoke into it. He returned the radio to his belt and opened the door wide, framing it with his considerable bulk. "No visitors," he informed them. "No names on the list for Florence Kent today, so you can't go in. Call for an appointment. Then your name will hit the list, and I'll open up. That's the way it works."
"Can I call and talk to her?" Gretchen asked.
"You have to pass it through the switchboard, but I think she's restricted."
"Is this a prison or what?" April called through the open window. "I never heard of a lockdown like this in all my life."
The guard hiked his pants and leaned over to peer in at the passengers, taking in April, Nina, and the festival of canines crowding the car window. "The privacy that our residents receive at Grace Senior Care is the exact reason they come here. They don't want every Tom, Dick, and Harry rolling in whenever, like you women are trying to do."
He frowned when another car pulled in alongside of the Echo. "Now back up and pull away before I get annoyed. You're blocking traffic."
Gretchen backed out of the driveway and drove out of sight of the guard station before finding a parking space.
"Now what?" she asked. "Either Chiggy doesn't want company, or someone else is making sure she doesn't have any."
"We can walk in," April suggested. "They probably don't have much security inside because of the guard at the gate. We can walk down that sidewalk over there," she pointed along a walkway. "And go right in."
"Okay," Gretchen agreed. "What do we have to lose?
But… you'll have to stay in the car, April."
"Why?"
"Because you look like a mutant orange tulip."
Gretchen saw April's face caving in and beginning to register a look of anguished hurt, so she added quickly. "Beautiful and vibrant and totally memorable. The last thing we want is to stand out."
April glanced down at her dress and beamed. "I see what you mean." Then, a little sheepishly, "I didn't want to go anyway."
"I suppose you think I should do this instead of April?"
Nina piped up. "What you're planning is probably against the law. Since when did you start sneaking around?"
"I guess since I started getting threatening letters."
"That's melodramatic." Spoken by Nina, queen of the dramatic actors association. She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm staying here, too. If you're in jail, somebody will have to take care of Nimrod and Wobbles."
"Fine," Gretchen said, opening the car door.
"Leave the air-conditioning on," April suggested. "It's hot as French fry oil out there."
"This sounds like something that bumpkin aunt of yours would come up with. You haven't been getting advice from Gertie Johnson again, have you? I bet-"
Gretchen slammed the door and stalked off.
How does your aloneness feel now? she asked herself, as the building loomed ahead of her where Chiggy, aka Florence Kent, resided.
Sometimes life really was a very lonely venture. Once you veered from the safe and familiar path, no one wanted to follow anymore. Instead, they stood on the sidelines hoping you'd trip over a rattlesnake so they could say,
"See? I told you so."
She refused to look back at the parked car loaded with former followers.