Free Dolled Up for Murder by Deb Baker Page B

“Where can I find him?”
    “You look like a nice lady. Can you spare a dollar?”
    Gretchen moved Nimrod to her other shoulder and fished a five dollar bill out of her purse.
    “A fiver is just right. High-five,” Daisy exclaimed.
    She extended her open palm, and Gretchen hesitantly followed her lead. Daisy slapped their hands together briskly. “He sleeps some nights at the Rescue Mission. Later today he’ll eat at St. Anskar’s Parish. The soup kitchen opens at five. You can find him there.”
    Maybe Gretchen had misjudged her mental capabilities.
    She thanked Daisy for the information and hurried back to the car.
    Nimrod woofed from the purse, reminding her abruptly that she had a purse dog to worry about as well as her mother.
    Gretchen stopped at a grocery store to stock up on a few days’ worth of supplies and was relieved that Nimrod slept at the bottom of the purse while she shopped. She doubted that a food store would welcome a teacup poodle.
    Gretchen arrived at the hair salon in time to escort the freshly shampooed duo. Nina and Tutu wore identical candy-striped bows in their hair.
    After Nina reclaimed her position in the driver’s seat, Gretchen related her meeting with Daisy. “You never said you were looking for that homeless man,” Nina whined. “I would have liked to come along.”
    “Would you like to go to St. Anskar’s Parish with me later to look for him?” Gretchen’s offered consolation prize would serve her own interests, too. She needed transportation.
    “Of course,” Nina said, perking up.
    “In the meantime, let’s call Gertie. Maybe my mother went to Michigan to visit.”
    Gertie Johnson, her father’s sister, lived in the Michigan Upper Peninsula. She wasn’t related by blood to Nina or Caroline, a fact Nina pointed out every time she heard another story about the aunt-in-law’s antics. Gertie had named all three of her children for horses: Blaze, Star, and Heather. Because Blaze was the local sheriff, Gertie fancied herself an expert on police procedure and investigative technique.
    “That aunt of yours causes nothing but trouble,” Nina said, watching the road with one eye while Gretchen punched in numbers on her cell phone. “She’s an odd duck, if you ask me.”
    Nina and Gertie are exactly alike, Gretchen thought. Quirky, flamboyant, and always right. That’s why they don’t get along.
    “Haven’t seen her,” Gertie said after exchanging the briefest of pleasantries.
    Gretchen explained the events of the last few days, and when she finished, Gertie whistled. “That’s complicated,” she said. “Have they issued a warrant for Caroline yet?”
    “No, of course not. She didn’t kill Martha.”
    “Bet my shorts they’ll arrest her anyway.”
    Gretchen shuddered. The thought had crossed her mind as well.
    “The answer,” Gertie continued. “Is always right under your nose.”
    Gretchen looked down at Nimrod, who rode on her lap and had a contented smile on his face. At the moment, he was the only thing right under her nose.
    She heard a distinctive sniff from the backseat where Tutu rode solo.
    “Gretchen, are you listening to me?”
    “Yes. But I’m confused.”
    “Pay attention to everything that’s happening around you; watch people’s reactions. Add everything up, and remember that nothing unusual that happens will be a coincidence. Trust your instincts.”
    Gretchen smiled. That’s exactly what Nina always said.
    “And find the dead woman’s bag of clothes.”
    Gretchen was startled. “What bag of clothes?”
    “You said she was homeless, so she doesn’t have a home you can search for clues. Normally I’d advise you to break in and have a look around. But this isn’t a normal situation. She must have had a few personal things. Where are they, and what are they?”
    Gretchen thought about Nacho’s garbage bag and Daisy’s shopping cart. Even though Martha lost all her worldly possessions, she may have collected personal odds and ends