by Deb Baker
She grabbed it and raced out the door.
Duanne had Nimrod backed into a corner of the privacy fence on the far side of the pool. Nimrod was growling, and his tiny teeth were bared. Duanne heard her coming and turned.
She raced directly at him and threw the Kewpie toward the pool. His eyes left her and he watched it fly, diamonds exploding in the air and dropping like scattered pebbles into the blue water.
His momentary distraction gave her the seconds she needed, and she lunged onto his back, wrapping her arms around his neck, tightening as she searched for a tender spot on his neck, hoping to shut down his air flow.
Duanne bucked like a bronco, and Gretchen knew it was only a matter of moments before he found the gun in his pocket and used it.
She squeezed hard and held on.
Gretchen felt him pitch sideways and lose his footing. They were falling backwards. Water closed in around her as they sank into the pool.
She instinctively let go and kicked away from him, and they each came up sputtering.
Nimrod leapt from the edge of the pool and swam toward her.
Duanne turned to her with a menacing grimace, but before he could say or do anything, a voice called out from behind them.
“Look at that,” Howie Howard said in his big Texan accent. “We were worried about her, and all along she’s having a pool party.”
“Nobody invited me,” April said.
“Me, either,” Nina added.
But Matt Albright, Gretchen was relieved to see, had a steady bead on Duanne.
Chapter 41
“I got your message,” Howie said after Matt escorted Duanne to the nearest squad car and deposited him in the back seat. “Didn’t know anything about a service going on for Brett. The whole thing smelled of rotten garbage to me, so when the detective came over to ask me some more questions, I mentioned it to him.”
“We came here,” Matt said. “But you weren’t home. I knew about the party going on for the Boston group and went over there looking for you.”
“I helped out, too,” April said. “I told him the service was over on MacDowell.”
“Right then,” Matt said, “we knew something was really wrong. That’s a rough neighborhood. So I called your cell. When you didn’t answer, I kept trying and the four of us drove up and down MacDowell looking for your car.”
“No luck,” Howie added. “But we found an abandoned truck with stolen plates.”
Gretchen sat poolside wrapped in a towel, attempting to control her shaking limbs.
“She’s freezing,” Nina exclaimed. “Let’s get her inside.”
“I’m fine, Aunt Nina. Just a little shook up.” Gretchen burrowed into the towel. “I tried to call for help but Duanne found out I had the phone and kicked it away.”
“Yes, but the call connected before he did that,” Matt said. “I could hear him talking to you.”
“You heard him admit that he killed Brett and Ronny? And that Brett had been helping him?”
Matt nodded, somberly. “But we needed to know where you were. We’d already been here to your house. He could have been holding you anywhere.”
“Then,” Howie said, “you yelled ‘parade’ to Nimrod.”
Nina grinned. “No place else that would work except right here where you have that doggy door.”
“Nimrod saved you,” April said. “Just like Lassie. I loved Lassie.”
“So where are the diamonds?” Matt asked.
Gretchen gazed at the pool.
“I think it’s a fine night for a pool party,” she said. “Anyone for a dip?”
Chapter 42
Gretchen sat on a bench on Central Avenue. The scorching heat had vanished, leaving Phoenix ready for November’s perfect weather. Another month or two, and the snowbirds would flock in.
She watched Steve walk toward her and braced for the inevitable.
“Why here?” he said, stopping and sitting down beside her. “Neutral territory?”
She nodded, biting her lower lip. She had picked the center of Phoenix for that very reason.
No tears! she reminded herself sternly.
“My plane leaves in two hours,” he said. “I don’t have much time. Are you sure you won’t change your mind and come back with me?”
Gretchen stared at the concrete sidewalk. “I’m sure. It’s over for us.”
“I’m sorry,” Steve said. “For everything.”
“I know. So am I.” Gretchen raised her eyes to meet his. “Have all charges been dropped?”
“Yes. My reputation has been restored. But my pride has been damaged beyond repair.”
That was the old Steve she knew best. He’d pursued her all the way across the country because of hurt pride, not real love. He’d get over it the first time a pretty woman strolled by and showed interest.
“Did you find out why Duanne Wilson stuck the knife in Ronny’s back?” Steve asked.
“He saw it lying on my table,” Gretchen replied. “It was an afterthought, to cast suspicion on the doll dealers.”
“It certainly complicated my life.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, then Steve rose. He didn’t try to kiss her goodbye, for which she was grateful.
Gretchen wiped away a tear as she watched him walk away.
Someone slid onto the bench. “Hey, doggie.”
Gretchen looked over at Daisy as Nimrod pounced on the homeless woman’s lap.
Swathed in her red and purple regalia, Daisy went about her business of feeding tiny crumbs of bread to a flock of pigeons. Nimrod sat contentedly on her lap watching the birds waddle beneath him, pecking at the ground.
“Come home with me,” Gretchen said. “My mother invited you.”
“It’s nice to have her home,” Daisy said.
“I really missed her,” Gretchen agreed. “She could hardly believe what happened while she was gone. I’m glad everything was resolved before I had to tell her.”
Daisy looked down the street. “There he is,” she said. “Told you he’d show up.”
Albert, his limp less noticeable today, joined them on the bench, scooting next to Gretchen.
“You look like you’re healing,” she said.
“It’s not bad.”
“You’re the one who sent the Kewpies to me.” She studied the fading bruises on his face.
“How did you know?”
“Your sister gave you some of her dolls and tools.”
Albert looked surprised. “You do know Susan.”
“No,” Gretchen said. “I guessed after I looked her up on the Internet. That’s how I found out she’s a doll reproductionist.”
“She used to pay me to help her in her shop before she moved away,” Albert said.
“I told you she was famous,” Daisy said.
“The ground-off Kewpie feet were clever touches. What if I’d missed it?” Gretchen asked.
“You wouldn’t have.”
“You knew what was happening when Brett and Ronny were killed. You tried to warn me with the note on a napkin.”
Albert nodded. “Ronny had a big mouth. He liked to sound important, even to me, so he told me the diamond story. And I was at the auction and saw things. It was easy to figure out what was happening.” He threw an arm over the back of the bench, and the smell of body odor drifted toward Gretchen.
Albert Thoreau was one of the city’s invisible residents. No one paid any attention to Phoenix’s homeless. Albert had been in the background all the time, and no one had noticed.
“I saw those two men arguing at the auction,” he said. “And I took the box of dolls. I couldn’t help myself. I took it.”
“And he asked me to hide it for him after that guy pretending to be a cop beat him up,” Daisy said.
“Did you know what was inside?” Gretchen asked her.
“I was pretty sure.”
“Albert doesn’t care about material things,” Daisy said. “But he’s a very sentimental guy.”
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Gretchen studied Albert. “Why didn’t you just tell me what was happening?”
“You would have believed a drunken bum?”
“Of course.”
Albert snorted, and Gretchen was silent.
“I didn’t want to see you hurt,” he said. “You look so much like my sister. Same nose, same hair…”
Gretchen sat awhile on the downtown bench, sandwiched between Daisy and Albert, and watched traffic go by.
So much for intuition and first impressions.
Milt Wood had given her the creeps, and he’d turned out to be nothing worse than pompous and arrogant.
Brett, the faithful auctioneer’s assistant, had been part of the scheme to steal the diamonds.
The cold, heartless killer was the jolly old elf with the twinkle in his eyes.
And the homeless alcoholic sitting next to her, exuding ripe, unsavory odors, had tried to save her life the only way he knew how.
People were full of surprises.
A pigeon landed on the back of the bench. Nimrod yipped, and it flew down to Daisy’s feet.
At the moment, life was good.
Tonight, Gretchen would have dinner with Matt Albright. He’d asked, and she’d accepted. She planned to keep it casual and friendly. After all, he was still married.
Howie, ten-gallon hat and all, would continue to call his auctions, and Nina’s new friend, Eric, had promised to keep in touch with the psychic diva.
Nina might have a special gift for reading auras, but Gretchen would stick to what she knew best: restoring treasures.
She stood up and hoped she could find her way home without getting lost.
A workshop filled with dolls awaited her.
****
About the Author
As Deb Baker, the author also writes the Gertie Johnson Backwoods Adventures. Under her pen name, Hannah Reed, she writes the Queen Bee Mysteries. Visit her at http://www.debbakerbooks.com or at http://www.queenbeemystery.com
Discover other titles by Deb Baker at Smashwords.com:
Murder Passes the Buck
Murder Grins and Bears It
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Table of Contents
Goodbye Dolly: A Gretchen Birch Mystery
