Old Man Crow stood up. “Well, why didn’t you say so? I’ll go get my coat.”
A few minutes later, they were both in Old Man Crow’s Cadillac and were headed into town. “So now that we’re partners …” Gertrude began.
“We’re not partners.”
“Well, whatever, why do they call you Old Man Crow?”
“That’s my name.”
Gertrude looked at him. “Your mother named you Old Man?”
“Don’t be foolish. My mother named me Calvin. Calvin Crow. I don’t know why they call me Old Man Crow. The kids started doing it years back. The same ones who egged my trailer. Took me forever to scrub that egg off. It got into the cracks in the vinyl. Went through a dozen toothbrushes that fall.”
Gertrude’s eyes grew wide. “You cleaned the outside of your trailer with a toothbrush?”
“No, with a dozen toothbrushes.”
“Ever think you might be a little obsessive?”
“At least I don’t collect toothbrushes.” Calvin pulled over to the side of the street and put the car in park.
“Is this it?”
“No, but look.”
Gertrude followed his gaze and saw Hale’s cruiser parked in a driveway just down the street from them. “Oh horsefeathers!”
“What’s going on Gertrude? Why are the police at Silas’s house?”
“I told you there was a dead stripper!”
“That doesn’t explain why the cops are involved. Strippers die all the time, don’t they? Just like the rest of us?”
“Well, this one was shot.”
“Oh. Well now, don’t you think that was an important detail?”
“Yeah.”
“So what, do you think Silas did it? Is that what the cops think?”
“I don’t know what the cops think. They’ve made it clear they don’t want my help. No, I don’t think Silas did it. He wouldn’t have been stupid enough to leave the body in his own house of balls.”
“House of what?”
“Shh, here they come.” Gertrude slid down in the seat to hide her head from view, which means she slid down about six inches.
“OK, the cops are in their car. Now they’re leaving. You still want to talk to Silas?”
“Of course,” Gertrude whispered, pushing herself back up into the seat.
“You don’t have to whisper. They can’t hear you.” Calvin eased the car back into the street, drove two hundred feet, and pulled into a short driveway. “Now you don’t mention the stripper around the wife. She’s a nice churchgoing lady.”
“Deal.” Gertrude hoisted herself out of the Cadillac and then wrestled her walker out of the back seat.
They didn’t even have to knock. Silas met them at the door.
“Hey, Si!” Calvin said.
“Hey, Calvin, what a surprise, come on in, I guess. What brings you here?”
Calvin walked into the kitchen and promptly sat down. “Got a lady here who wants to talk to you. Is Joanie around?”
“No, she’s at church, quilting club or some darn thing. What’s this about?”
“I need to know if Lori Hicks was blackmailing you,” Gertrude said.
Silas’s mouth flew open.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Silas sat down. “Please don’t tell anyone. I’ve got enough trouble. And I sure didn’t kill her.”
“I know that,” Gertrude said comfortingly.
Silas didn’t look comforted.
“How much?” Gertrude asked.
Silas looked at the ceiling, his face red. “I had to give her a thousand dollars a month, or she would tell my wife about my affair. And I couldn’t let that happen. I love my wife. Had to tell her I got into trouble gambling. Otherwise, she’d wonder where more than half our income was going. And she was such a sweetheart about it. Made me feel even guiltier. She just can’t find out, she can’t.”
“I understand,” Gertrude said, even though she really didn’t. “So, your mistress, what’s her name?”
“No idea.”
“You don’t know her name?” Gertrude asked, appalled.
“We didn’t talk much.”
“Does she work at Private Eyes?”
“Ayuh. Won’t catch me in there again.”
“So you met her there?”
“Who, Lori or the stripper?” Calvin asked.
“Well, I meant the stripper, but wasn’t Lori a stripper too?”
“Nah, Lori just waited tables.” Silas rubbed his jaw as if it ached. “I mean, she was a mostly naked waitress, but she didn’t get up on stage and dance, at least not that I saw.”
“OK, so this other woman, the stripper with no name, you met her there too?”
“Yeah. Look, is this really necessary?” Silas asked.
“Yes, it is,” Gertrude said indignantly. “Are you still seeing her?”
“No!” Silas cried. “I haven’t seen her since that one time.”
“Do you have an alibi for last night?” Gertrude asked.
“Yes, I was home alone with my wife.”
“OK. Good.”
“Why are you doing this?” Silas asked. “Why not just let the police handle it?”
Gertrude thought for a second. That’s a good question. I’m not sure I should tell Silas my mayor theory. “Because Deputy Hale made me feel stupid, and now I’m going to prove I’m not.” There. That seemed as good a reason as any.
“Well, I don’t know who killed her. I’m just a weak and pathetic man who drinks too much. And look where it got me—giving all my money to this Lori woman.”
“Well, she won’t be taking your money anymore.”
“Right,” Silas said dryly. “Lucky me.”
Gertrude was almost out the door when she thought of another question. “Was Lori blackmailing anyone else?”
“Don’t know,” Silas said. “But I didn’t kill her, so she certainly ticked someone else off.”
7
“You mind if we stop at the drugstore on our way home?” Calvin asked. “They’re going to close soon, and I have to pick up a few prescriptions.”
“Yeah, sure. We’ve got to kill some time anyway before the strip bar opens.”
Calvin made a choking sound. “What?”
Gertrude looked at him. “Did you swallow a bone?”
“What?”
“Well, what else could be our next move?”
“We don’t have a next move. We are not the police. I’m going to get my medications, go home, and have a TV dinner while watching Bonanza.”
“How are you going to relax when there’s a killer on the loose?”
“Gertrude, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but this is not our job.”
“I don’t care!” Gertrude snapped. “You have to take me to the strip club before someone else gets hurt! If you don’t take me, I will go by myself, and there will be nobody to protect me.”
Calvin rolled his eyes. “I’m seventy-one years old, Gertrude. I’m not going to be much protection, and I’ve worked hard to maintain my perfect reputation all these years. I’m not going to blow it now by entering a den of sin.”
Gertrude snorted.
“What?”
“Your perfect reputation. That’s what. You’re ridiculous.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that you are a cranky old man, a real meanieface! You have no friends. You are uptight and stingy.”
“Wow, and you’re just the tact fairy aren’t you?”
“What in tarnation is a tact fairy?”
Calvin sighed as he pulled into the drugstore’s lot. He got out of the car as if to leave her in it, but she climbed out and trailed in after him.
She busied herself with the perfume testers as she reviewed the situation in her head. By my count, four suspects: Silas the water park owner, who seems quite innocent, with his alibi and all; mystery man from second photo; Mayor Pouliot; and Joel the wonder dad. Hmm. Oh, wait, what about th
eir wives? Maybe they’d be mad enough to …
“Ready?” Calvin was standing there staring at her.
“Yep.” She turned and followed him to the registers.
“You smell ridiculous,” Calvin said.
“Thank you.”
As they approached the registers, the two clerks were snickering furtively. Then Gertrude heard one of them say, “No really. Be careful or he’ll report you. I’m not kidding.”
Gertrude looked at Calvin to see if he’d heard too. Apparently he had because he said, “I only report people who don’t do their jobs. Or little arrogant hussies like you who think all old people are deaf. For your information, I’m wearing a seven thousand dollar pair of hearing aids. And I can afford these hearing aids because I worked hard my whole life, you ungrateful snots!”
One of the young women rang Calvin up with trembling fingers while the other tried to keep a straight face.
Gertrude remained silent until they were outside. “Right,” she said. “Your reputation is impeccable.”
“Oh, close your trap!” Calvin said as he opened his door. “Get in the car before I leave you here.”
Gertrude did as she was told, for once.
“You got any other stops you need to make?” Calvin asked.
“You mean other than Private Eyes?”
“Yeah. That’s what I mean. It’s five o’clock. Pretty sure there’s not a lot of action on the pole just yet.”
“How did you know there’s a pole?” Gertrude raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, stop trying to be a super sleuth. Don’t all strip clubs have poles?”
“I don’t know. I’ve only been in one strip club in my life.”
“Well, you’re one ahead of me.”
Gertrude and Calvin decided to have dinner together. She suggested Burger King because she had several coupons in her walker pouch. Some of them weren’t even expired yet, she was sure of it. But Calvin said that fast food was for white trash. Gertrude suggested the fried chicken joint on the edge of town, but Calvin wrinkled his nose up. Last time he was there, the waitress had forgotten to refill his wine, he said. Gertrude didn’t even know they served wine there. Finally, after driving a few laps around town, Calvin decided on the Honor House. He said he hadn’t been there in years, which comforted Gertrude immensely. She hoped that meant no one would remember him.
Gertrude had never been to the Honor House, and when they walked in and she looked at the “specials” board, she understood why. “Um, Calvin?” she whispered. “I can’t afford to eat here. Are you bonkers?”
“Well then, just get some soup or something.”
A well-groomed woman behind a small bar asked if they had reservations.
Instead of just saying no, Calvin said, “Do we really need reservations for 5:30 on a weeknight?”
The woman smiled. “Right this way.”
The Honor House was set up like an ordinary house, with small rooms offering three or four tables each. Gertrude squinted in the dim light and then sat down clumsily in the wooden chair the hostess pulled out for her. The hostess then deftly collapsed the walker and leaned it against the wall. “Your server will be right with you,” she said with a smile, and then scurried off to be verbally abused by some other patron.
The server introduced himself as Antoine, and offered them a glass of house wine. Gertrude quickly said, “No, thank you. No alcohol. We are fighting crime tonight.” The well-trained server didn’t flinch at this.
Calvin wordlessly slid his glass closer to the server, who poured two tablespoons of wine into the glass. Calvin swirled the wine around in the glass, appearing to examine it for floaties, then sniffed it, then tasted it, and then nodded what was apparently approval. Antoine filled the glass and said, “I’ll give you a moment with the menus.”
“What was that all about?” Gertrude asked.
“What?”
“Why did you sniff the wine?”
“Gracious, Gertrude, haven’t you ever left the trailer park?” Calvin opened his menu.
Gertrude followed suit. “How can you read this?” she asked. “There’s no light in here.”
“You don’t need to read it, do you? Aren’t you just having soup?”
Gertrude closed her menu with a snap and crossed her arms across her chest, determined not to speak for the rest of the meal. She ended up with a twelve dollar cup of French onion soup. Calvin had the apricot mustard chicken. When they’d been there two hours and Gertrude had lost feeling in all of her right leg and most of her left, Calvin ordered the chocolate torte for dessert. Fifty minutes after that, they were done, and the check was brought. Calvin asked them to go back and create two different checks so there wouldn’t “be any confusion.”
Antoine brought back two separate checks, still not letting on whether he was as annoyed with their presence as he should have been. Gertrude began to dig through her walker pouch for dollar bills and loose change. She had counted out seven dollars when Calvin reminded her, “Don’t forget to tip.” She got to nine dollars before giving up.
“That’s all I’ve got, Calvin.”
Calvin rolled his eyes, scooped up her money, ripped her check from her hands and headed toward the door, leaving Gertrude to unfold her own walker, pull herself up onto her numb legs, and then stand there while the blood flowed back into her toes. As it did so, she surreptitiously put the salt and pepper shakers into her walker pouch.
By the time she got outside, Calvin was waiting for her with the car running. She collapsed into the front seat, suddenly exhausted.
“I suppose I have to pay for your Private Eyes cover charge too?” he asked.
8
It cost Calvin ten dollars and a good deal of pride to get them into Private Eyes. The bouncer at the door looked them up and down and then laughed aloud before motioning them inside.
“Well, at least it’s dark,” Calvin said. “Maybe no one will recognize me.”
Gertrude followed him to a table tucked into the shadows of a back corner. She tried not to look at the stage, where a woman was twitching her way out of a camouflage bikini. Soon, they were approached by a woman holding a notepad. Gertrude was relieved to see that, though she was scantily clad, all her private parts were covered.
“Hey, Old Man Crow,” she cooed.
Calvin groaned. “So much for anonymity.”
“What can I get for you and your gal here?”
“She’s not my gal, and I’ll take a glass of Chianti.”
“I’m sorry, what?” The server leaned in closer.
“Chianti?”
“I don’t think we have that.”
“Fine. Red wine. In a clean glass please.”
Gertrude declined to order, and the woman sauntered off.
“Why does it have to be so loud?” Calvin half-shouted to Gertrude.
“So that men can’t hear their conscience,” Gertrude half-shouted back. She tried to look around the room for clues without actually seeing any breasts. It wasn’t easy.
The server returned with Calvin’s wine. “Sure you don’t want anything, honey?”
It took Gertrude a moment to realize the woman was talking to her. “Uh yeah, sorry, running a little low on cash.”
The woman gave up and moved on to the next table, which appeared to be full of high school boys. “They can’t possibly be old enough to be in here,” Gertrude said.
Calvin didn’t respond.
She looked at him and was amused to find him apparently entranced by the avid hunter hanging off the pole. Gertrude scanned the room again, fearing that this little foray into Mattawooptock’s underbelly was going to be in vain. Then she saw her. She stabbed a chubby elbow into Calvin’s side.
“Ow!” he exclaimed, his hand flying to his side. “What was that for?”
“Look!” Gertrude hissed.
“Look at what?”
“That’s her!”
“That’s who?”
“The woman from the ph
otos!”
“What photos?”
Oh yeah, I never showed him the photos. “I’m going to go talk to her. Drink your wine.”
The woman was waiting on another table halfway across the room. Gertrude approached and then stood a few feet away, not wanting to interrupt the drink orders. The woman finished scribbling on her pad and then began to walk away when she noticed Gertrude staring at her. “Can I help you?”
“I like your dress,” Gertrude said.
The woman took a step closer. She was wearing a low-cut neon green number that barely covered her hiney. “Well, thank you, honey. I like yours too.” Gertrude was wearing a baggy, faded, flower-patterned romper that fell below her knees. She looked down at it in confusion. When she looked up, the woman was standing inches from her. She smelled like sandalwood and cigarette smoke.
“What’s your name?” Gertrude asked, suddenly painfully aware of her discomfort. She fought the urge to step back from the woman.
“Trixie. What’s yours?”
“Gertrude.”
“And how can I help you tonight, Gertrude?”
“I have photos of you in bed with multiple men.” Never has a smile faded so quickly. Trixie’s eyes snapped to life. “Well, not at the same time,” Gertrude clarified.
“Who are you?” she hissed.
“I’m not going to cause you any trouble,” Gertrude said. “I’m just trying to figure out who killed Lori.”
“Lori’s dead?”
“Quite.”
“Come with me,” she said and headed toward the back. Gertrude followed. Trixie entered one of the little rooms, and Gertrude panicked at the thought that Trixie was going to give her a lap dance. Gertrude stepped into the room just enough so that the door would shut. Then she stood there. “You can sit,” Trixie said.
Gertrude shook her head.
“So what happened?” Trixie crossed her arms.
“She was murdered.”
“How?”
“Not sure.”
Trixie began to pace. “That’s too bad. Lori was a nice lady.”
“You knew her well?” Gertrude asked.
“Not really. We just worked together.”
“Did you do anything else together?”
Gertrude, Gumshoe Cozy Mystery Series Box Set: Books 1, 2, and 3 Page 4
