Free Gayle Trent by Between a Clutch, a Hard Place

tablecloth and that I was taking it to have it cleaned.
     
    Wanting to have that stain treated as soon as possible, I went by a dry cleaner’s near Jim’s house instead of taking it all the way back home to my own dry cleaner. Fortunately, they had a drive-through, so I didn’t have to worry about leaving Matlock in the car.
     
    I handed the tablecloth to the girl at the window. “Hi,” I said. “I got spaghetti sauce on this tablecloth, and since it’s white linen, I’d like to get it treated as soon as possible. Do you think you’ll be able to get to it pretty soon?”
     
    “We should,” she said. “We aren’t that busy. Do you have an account with us?”
     
    “No, actually, I live out of town. My friend Jim Adams suffered a broken ankle yesterday, and I went by his house to make him a couple of casseroles. I can pay the cleaning bill up front if you need for me to.”
     
    “That won’t be necessary.” She half-grinned. “Did you say Jim Adams?”
     
    “Yes, why?”
     
    “Mr. Adams is a regular customer, and he’s brought in some pretty strange things in his time.”
     
    “Like what?”
     
    “Oh, I don’t really know,” she said. “Maybe our manager will be around when you come back to pick this up. He’s our authority on Mr. Jim.” She looked like she was about to burst out laughing.
     
    “I hope he is here,” I said. “I’d like to talk to him. Can you tell me when this’ll be ready?”
     
    “It should be ready tomorrow,” she said.
     
    “Will your manager be here tomorrow?”
     
    “No, he’s out today and tomorrow.”
     
    “Then I’ll see you on Thursday.”
     
    “Okay,” she said brightly.
     
    I pulled away from the window wondering just what kind of strange things Jim had brought to the dry cleaners. I’m sure dry cleaners see a lot of weird things, so it must really be unusual to have caused Jim to be the subject of such gossip there. So what had he brought them? Bloodstained garments? But that wouldn’t be funny. Unless he’d made up some outlandish story to explain them away. I shivered, wondering what I would learn on Thursday.
     

CHAPTER SEVEN
     
     
    Before starting home, I went by the dog pound and gave them a twenty-dollar donation. The same animal control officer was there, and he was pleased as punch to see Matlock again.
     
    “Hey, buddy! You’re livin’ large now, aintcha?” He scratched Matlock behind the ears. “You’re doing great with him, Ms. Crumb. I’m awfully glad you brought him by.”
     
    “I’m a widow,” I said, “and I don’t believe I’d realized how lonely I’d been until I took him home.” I gave a little laugh. “It’s nice to have somebody to talk to all the time.”
     
    The dogcatcher laughed, too. “I know what you mean. I talk to critters all day long.”
     
    “When I was in here last, we spoke about Flora Adams,” I said. “Didn’t you tell me that she never adopted any of the dogs?”
     
    “Nope, she never did. I always figured she already had one or two of her own, or else she felt like she couldn’t take care of a pet by herself.”
     
    “But she wasn’t by herself. She had a husband.”
     
    He shrugged. “I didn’t know her that well. We didn’t talk much. She basically brought ham every Friday, socialized with the animals and left.”
     
    “Still, that was an awfully kind thing to do.”
     
    “Oh, yeah,” he agreed. “She’s bound to have been an excellent person. Did they ever find out what happened to her?”
     
    “No,” I said. “They never did.”
     
    As soon as I got home, I called Sunny. I had a lot on my mind and needed her to help me sort it out.
     
    “Hi, Meem,” she said. “What’s up?”
     
    “Meem? That’s new.”
     
    She giggled. “I know. I’m feeling silly.”
     
    “Somebody must’ve had a good day.”
     
    “I did. You know Bobby who sits behind me in math class?”
    For the next ten minutes, she chattered on about this “dreamy guy” who