Gertrude, Gumshoe Cozy Mystery Series Box Set: Books 1, 2, and 3

by Robin Merrill

  “OK,” Gertrude whispered, pointing down the street. “She went that way.”

  “I don’t think you have to whisper.”

  “OK, follow her,” Gertrude said. “But go slow.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Calvin said, obviously irritated by being bossed around.

  “Don’t call me ma’am,” Gertrude said, oblivious of his irritation.

  “Is that her?” he asked.

  Gertrude gasped. “Yes! That’s her! Slow down!”

  “I can’t go any slower Gertrude, or I won’t be moving at all.”

  “Well, then stop the car.”

  Calvin pulled over to the side of the street. “Sure, this isn’t suspicious at all.”

  “Oh stop it. There’s no one around. Besides, we’re not breaking any laws.”

  Calvin tapped the steering wheel with his fingertips, waiting all of thirty seconds before asking, “OK, can we go now?”

  “Just hold your britches.”

  Calvin sighed.

  Gertrude waited until Trixie was just out of sight and then said, “OK, easy now.”

  Calvin pulled the car back out into the street and drove in the direction Trixie had walked. They caught sight of her just in time to see her turn right down a side street. Calvin groaned.

  “Where on earth is she going?” Gertrude wondered aloud.

  “I think I know, and I don’t want any part of it.”

  “What? Where is she going?”

  “This is Frank’s street.”

  “Frank the cop?”

  “Yep.”

  “The house where Frank the cop lives with his wife?” Gertrude asked.

  “Yep.”

  “OK, well, let’s go down it. It’s not a dead end, is it?”

  He pulled the car over. “No, it’s not, but Gertrude, I just don’t want to do this anymore. If she’s going to a cop’s house, she’s obviously going to be safe.”

  “Unless the cop’s the murderer.”

  “I thought you said the mayor was the murderer.”

  “Well, we don’t really know that yet, do we?”

  “OK, well, I know that Frank is no murderer, so I’m going home. If you want to get out, do it here.”

  “Seriously? You’re going to abandon me in the middle of town in the middle of the night?”

  “Well, I’d rather not. I’d rather you just go home like a normal person, and I would be happy to give you a ride. But if you’re going to insist on following this stripper around, yes, I’m going to leave you here.”

  “Fine,” Gertrude said in a huff. She climbed out of the car and slammed the door. Then she opened the back door, made a big show of wrestling her walker out of the back, and then slammed that door too. And then, without so much as a glance, she walked away from Calvin and his car. Then she had a realization. She turned around and headed back toward the car.

  He rolled down the window. “Not sure of the address,” he said, “but it’s before the street turns, big green house on the right.”

  “Thank you,” she said, and then tried to hold her chin high as she stomped off indignantly. She heard Calvin pull the car away from the curb, and was overcome with the sudden realization that she was alone. All alone. In the dark. On a strange street. With nothing but a walker, a walkie talkie, and a jitterbug she wasn’t quite sure how to make a call with. Well, if I get into trouble, I’ll just call Calvin with the walkie talkie. He might come back if I was in danger. Gertrude took a deep breath and headed down the street.

  It took her a while to reach the green house, and she was huffing and puffing by the end of her walk. When she finally reached her destination, there was a cop car parked in the drive. So this is the right place. And he’s probably home. But Trixie was nowhere in sight. Gertrude spotted a nearby bush that was just about her size, so she walked over to it, with every intention of crouching behind it. Then she decided that was far too much work, so she plopped right down on her fundament. There. That’s better! She relaxed for a second and then she peered around the bush at the house.

  And she saw absolutely nothing of interest. It was a house, for sure, a green one. Its porch light was on, and it cast a weak light over the porch and most of the front yard. She stared at it, trying to see something, anything of interest. But there was nothing. Fine. I’ll just sit here, she decided. If someone is getting murdered, I’ll be sure to hear it. She began to relax, and then she saw a light come on in the upstairs room. A second later, two figures appeared. One was definitely a female. She decided that was Trixie. And one was probably a male. The cop? It must be. She couldn’t stand not knowing. She decided to creep closer. The front porch’s light did not reach the side of the house where this upstairs window was located, so she was able to walk to the house under the cover of utter darkness.

  When she reached the house, she realized there was latticework covering most of the wall, and that latticework was covered with the red leaves of autumn vines. What a stroke of luck, she thought. She surveyed the wall. Then she slipped her shiny new phone into her pocket, just in case there was anything through the window worth photographing.

  She took a deep breath and reached up with her left hand to slip her short fingers through holes in the latticework. Once she had a good grip, she slipped off her left loafer and poked around the bottom of the latticework with her foot, until she found a foothold. Then, she very gingerly pulled up with her left hand and pushed up with her left foot until her weight was supported completely by the wall and her body was fully suspended a full six inches off the ground. Well, I’ll be darned-tootin’—it held! She took another deep breath and then, pushing up with her left foot, she reached as high as she could with her right arm and quickly stove her stubby fingers into the vine, trying like mad to hang on to the spot where her hand had landed. She was able to. Then, scared to death of falling, she swung her right foot around in an absolute panic, trying to find purchase. Finally, she did, and then she clung to the latticework with all four limbs, trying to catch her breath. After about two minutes of rest, she gathered the courage and strength necessary to reach upward again with her left hand—and in this way, Gertrude managed to slowly climb up the wall toward the second-story window. After about fifteen minutes of climbing, Gertrude was about three feet off the ground when her right foot slipped. She cried out, sounding a lot like a wounded duck, and flailed her foot around trying to find another place to stick it, but it was no use. Slowly, both her hands began to slip from their grip, and then she was falling. She screamed like an exceptionally loud rabbit caught in a trap and then thud, Gertrude landed in the grass, her limbs all akimbo, her breath knocked completely out of her.

  In seconds she heard footsteps approaching and absurdly thought it was Calvin coming to rescue her. But then she realized she was staring up at the barrel of a gun.

  16

  “What on earth is wrong with you?” Trixie asked, glaring down at her.

  Gertrude tried to roll over, but she looked much like a chubby beetle stuck on its back. “Aren’t you cold?” Gertrude asked. Trixie was only wearing underwear. Gertrude reached into her pocket and tried to be sneaky as she stabbed at the smartphone’s screen, but Trixie took one quick step and then kicked the phone out of Gertrude’s hand. “Ow!” Gertrude accused.

  “You really think you’re going to call for help?” Trixie snapped. “No one is coming for you. You’re going to die, just because you were stubborn and stupid. Now, get up, and get inside.”

  Gertrude tried to roll over again, but failed. “Where’s Frank?” she asked.

  Trixie laughed. “Frank’s not going to rescue you either. You didn’t think I heard you when you started to climb the vines? You sounded like a herd of elephants. I told Frank it was just a fat cat, but I had a feeling it was you, so I tied Frank to the bed.”

  “What, you going to kill him too?” Gertrude asked.

  “Of course not!” Trixie cried. “I’m not going to kill him. I love him! I did all this for him! I just
had to tie him up so I could deal with you, you crazy wench. Now, get up! I’m not going to tell you again!”

  “I can’t! Can’t you see I’m disabled? You’re going to have to help me.”

  “I’m not touching you. Now get up,” she said through gritted teeth.

  Gertrude could tell she was getting worried. Poor little Trixie doesn’t know what to do. “Why’d you kill Lori?”

  “None of your business.”

  “I’ll get up if you tell me.”

  “You’ll get up now, or I’ll shoot you in the head.”

  “No you won’t. Calvin is parked at the end of the street. He knows I’m here. He’ll call the cops.”

  Trixie looked at the end of the street. Then she looked down at Gertrude. “Get up. Then I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

  It hurt, but Gertrude managed to get herself rolled onto her side. Then, painstakingly, she rolled onto her belly. Then she did half a push up, cried out in anguish, and collapsed on the ground.

  “Oh, you stupid freak!” Trixie reached down and tried to grab Gertrude’s arm, and Gertrude swung one chubby leg at Trixie’s feet. This knocked Trixie off balance and she let go of Gertrude’s arm to catch herself with her free hand. Then, with all her gumption, Gertrude used the same leg to kick at the gun, which went off in Trixie’s hand, momentarily freezing Gertrude with fear. But she soon realized she wasn’t in any more pain than usual, so she figured she hadn’t been shot, and began to scramble on all fours toward Trixie, fully intent on scratching her eyes out.

  “Oh my … you crazy old hag, you are really nuts,” Trixie said, and punched Gertrude in the face.

  Gertrude’s head snapped back from the blow, and she put her left hand to her cheek in surprise. “Ow! That hurt!” Gertrude reared up on her knees and tried to hit her back with her right hand, but missed Trixie entirely and flopped back down on her chest.

  “Will you just stop!” Trixie cried, out of breath.

  Gertrude did stop. She was just too tired to continue. She rolled over onto her back and looked up at Trixie. “Oh, just tell me why. I’m going to die anyway. Can’t you throw me a bone?”

  “Because I love him, and she wouldn’t stop blackmailing him! I didn’t mean to fall in love with him. I just did. And she didn’t care! He told me to!”

  “A cop told you to murder a waitress?” Gertrude asked, appalled.

  “No, you idiot. Frank told me I had to get her to stop blackmailing him. Then he would leave his wife for me.”

  Gertrude started to laugh then. A great, deep belly laugh burbled up from deep within her and burst onto the scene, echoing through the neighborhood.

  “Shut up!” Trixie hissed. “Will you just shut up!”

  “You are bonkers! He wasn’t gonna leave his wife! You killed her for nothing!”

  “I didn’t kill her—her greed did! I tried to warn her, to scare her off. Left her death threats at work, but she wouldn’t stop. So I told her I was meeting Silas again at the water park. Said she could come for more pictures. Then we could threaten his business as well as his marriage—”

  “Did you find the hide-a-key too?” Gertrude interrupted, picking her head up.

  Trixie blinked, surprised. “No, I climbed through a window.”

  “Oh, should’ve just used a key,” Gertrude said, lying her head back down. “Would’ve been easier.”

  The women heard sirens. Trixie looked up. Then she took off running. Into a neighbor’s back yard. In her underpants. With the gun. Gertrude knew that it wasn’t the cops. Gertrude knew that it was only an ambulance. But apparently Trixie didn’t know her sirens. Gertrude lay there, trying to catch her breath as the sirens got closer and louder.

  Then the ambulance pulled into the driveway, and its headlights lit up her spot on the lawn, which was now quite trampled. She lifted one weary, floppy arm in the air, just so they could see her. They must have, as she soon heard their footsteps running across the ground.

  “Are you the one who pressed a LifeRescue button?”

  Gertrude turned her head to the side and saw some bright orange New Balance tennis shoes. They were the most beautiful shoes she’d ever seen. “Yes,” she said, “but I’m OK. I think. I just fell while trying to scale the wall. But you should call the police. Because there’s a cop upstairs. He’s tied up. And there’s a murderer. She went that way.” Gertrude pointed toward the neighbor’s back yard. “She’s in her skivvies. And she has a gun.”

  The man with the beautiful sneakers spoke into his radio. “Charlie one-one, send police to scene. Armed suspect, female, running west from this address.”

  A voice crackled through the radio, but Gertrude couldn’t quite make it out.

  “OK, ready?” a female paramedic scooched at Gertrude’s head, preparing to lift her.

  “Wait!” Gertrude cried. “My jitterbug!”

  “Your what?” the female paramedic asked.

  “My cellular telephone! It’s over there!” she said, pointing through the grass. “We have to get it! I taped her confession!”

  “I’ll get it,” Mr. Orange Sneakers said.

  “Oh, thank you,” Gertrude said. “Thank you so much.” And then she closed her eyes.

  17

  G picked Gertrude up at the hospital. It was too early in the morning for the CAP bus, and she didn’t know who else to call. She didn’t really want to call Calvin. He’d almost gotten her killed with his negligence.

  “Gertrude,” G said when he saw her, “what on earth am I going to do with you?”

  “Nothing. Just get me home. My cats must be starving.”

  G walked slowly alongside her as she edged her way out of the hospital. She was so happy to note that he had parked right outside the door.

  “You really are the best, G,” she said as he helped her into his truck. “Your wife is a lucky woman.”

  “Thanks, Gert,” he said, as he put her walker in the back. He climbed into the driver’s side. “So, what happened?”

  “Well, you see, these kids stole Tornado. So I went looking for their mom at the strip club, but, as you know, she was in the House of Balls. I thought the mayor did it, but I guess it was a stripper named Trixie. Darn it.”

  G laughed. “Don’t worry. The mayor will get his due eventually.”

  “Yep. Sooner than you may think too.”

  “What does that mean?” G asked.

  “You’ll see,” Gertrude said.

  “So, have you talked to the cops yet?” G asked.

  “Yep. They were waiting for me at the hospital. And do you think they could say a simple ‘thank you’? No! Nothing! They listened to my story and then just left! I figured there’d be some reward money at least!”

  G laughed again.

  “But I am going to adopt the murderer’s cat, so that’s the bright side.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yeah, I told the cops, and I called animal control. She has a beautiful gray tabby. It’s not the cat’s fault his human’s a monster.”

  G shook his head. “I suppose that’s true.”

  They were quiet the rest of the way to the trailer park. When G pulled in, Gertrude said, “Actually, can you take me to trailer number nine?”

  “Sure, who’s there?”

  “My cat.”

  G helped her out of the truck.

  She thanked him again.

  “You sure you’re all right here?”

  “Absolutely,” she said, already climbing the steps to the door.

  “OK then,” G said, and got in his truck to drive away.

  Carl opened the door before Gertrude could even knock. “Hey, Gertrude! Did you hear? The cops caught the murderer!”

  Gertrude rolled her eyes as she stepped into the trailer. “The cops didn’t do squat. I caught the murderer.”

  “Oh,” Carl said, and ran toward the living room.

  “Good to see you,” Joel said. “What’s up?”

  “Oh, I just figured you
were going to take the kids back to Toledo, so I wanted to say goodbye to them.” And I was hoping you might give me some reward money for catching your ex-wife’s murderer.

  “Oh, well, how nice. Yes, we’re leaving today. The police finally told us that we could.”

  Carl came back in, holding Tornado squished up against his neck. “I suppose you want Tornado back,” he said, pouting.

  “Well, I do, but if you want him, you can have him. But you have to promise to take very, very good care of him. He’s a …”

  “Really?! Can we, Daddy, can we?” Carl asked, looking up at his father with pleading eyes.

  Joel looked down at his son. “I don’t think so, honey. I don’t want to take a cat all the way to Toledo.”

  Carl burst into tears.

  “Oh, I have an extra cat carrier,” Gertrude said.

  Joel gave her an exasperated look.

  “Puh-lease, Daddy?” Carl begged.

  Joel sighed. “OK, fine.”

  “Hooray!” Carl cried.

  “I’ll help you take care of him,” Sophia said from behind Carl.

  “Could I just have a minute with him?” Gertrude asked, holding out her hands.

  “Sure,” Carl said, and handed her the cat.

  She pulled Tornado into her chest and then pivoted inside her walker space until her back was to the family. Then she pushed her face into Tornado’s neck and shoulder. “I love you so much,” she mumbled into his fur. “I’m going to miss you so, so much. But I think this little boy needs you more than I do, so you be good to him. But you remember me, OK? You always remember that Mommy loves you.” She inhaled one more deep breath of him and then wiped her tears in his fur. Then she pivoted back around to face Carl and handed Tornado back to his ready arms.

  “Thanks,” Carl said softly.

  “You’re welcome,” Gertrude said. “I’ll go get that cat carrier now.”

  ***

  Three days later, Gertrude pounded on Calvin’s door at ten minutes till nine.

  He answered it immediately. “Did you find another dead stripper?” he asked.