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

by Robin Merrill

  Gertrude steadied herself on the cart handle with one hand and checked her hair with the other. “Why, I could ask you the same thing!” she cried. She wasn’t sure if that made any sense, but she was still a bit shaken by the collision.

  The man looked confused. Gertrude often had this effect on people. He pointed at the door and spoke very slowly, “Employees only. You can’t go back there.”

  “What’s your name?” Gertrude asked.

  The man scowled. Then he pointed at his own nametag and slowly said, “Matt,” giving the “t” sound far more emphasis than necessary.

  “Hi, Matt. I’m Gertrude. Did you kill Tislene Breen?”

  “What? Of course not. Do I need to get the manager? Because she won’t put up with this kind of crap.”

  “Why would you call the manager? I just asked you a question,” Gertrude tried.

  “Are you going to stay out of the employee only area?”

  Good grief. This man isn’t even making sense. “Yes, Matt. I will stay out of the employee only area.” Gertrude tried to quickly spin away and stalk off with attitude, a move she had perfected with her walker, but it was quite clumsy with the shopping cart and she ended up doing a cumbersome five-point turn instead. Any sassy effect was lost. By the time she headed down the dishes aisle, Matt was out of sight, and Gertrude turned around again—only a three-point-turn this time—and pushed through the swinging doors. This time she made it through, and as the doors swung closed behind her, she paused to take in the scene, and wondered where to look first. There were bins everywhere. Bins of clothes, bins of books, bins of shoes, bins of dishes. This is what heaven must look like, Gertrude thought, and started toward the closest bin.

  She didn’t get there.

  “You need to leave. Right now.” A sharp voice spoke from behind. Gertrude looked over her shoulder and found Sherri, the manager with the organized hair.

  “I was just looking for the bathroom,” Gertrude lied.

  Sherri’s facial expression made it perfectly clear she knew this was a lie, but she said, “No problem. I’d be happy to show you. Right this way.”

  Feeling beaten, Gertrude walked by Sherri as she held the door open for her. Then she followed Sherri to the bathroom. Gertrude smiled, said, “Thank you,” and then entered the bathroom and locked the door behind her. She leaned on the sink and looked at herself in the mirror. She counted to sixty.

  When she figured she’d waited long enough, she discreetly poked her head out of the bathroom and looked around. No Sherri. No Matt. She slipped through the doorway and returned to her cart. Then, she slinked her way to the linens. She felt through every pile. No lumps. She went to housewares to look at the actual lamps. No dead birds. She opened every drawer in every desk and every dresser. Nothing. She surreptitiously began to look for trash cans. This took her back into the restroom, but no lamps in that trash can. She looked around and then furtively ducked into the men’s room, but that trash can was also disappointing. The only trash cans left in the store were those small ones beside each register. She headed that way.

  Sherri looked at her suspiciously, and Gertrude feigned interest in the odd assortment of items in the locked glass case: a knife; jewelry; some fine china (three teacups and four saucers); and what may or may not have been an actual Coach purse.

  As Sherri got busy checking out customers, Gertrude was able to verify that there was no ugly green lamp in any of the trash cans.

  She traded her shopping cart in for her walker and then headed outside to the dumpster.

  It was nearly empty, except for one garbage bag. She picked up a nearby stick and jabbed at the bag until it ripped open. It was full of mostly food waste, including something that looked like pink noodles, and Gertrude spread it around the bottom of the dumpster until she was confident there was no green lamp hiding among the chicken bones. She dropped the stick and started to walk off. But then she couldn’t help herself. She went back to the dumpster and reached into it to try to retrieve a plastic Folgers coffee container. She used these to sort some of her smaller collections, and one just can’t have too many. Her fingers just brushed the top of the red coffee container, but she couldn’t quite get a grip.

  She was thinking about how to climb into the dumpster when she heard a vehicle pull up behind her. She looked up.

  Hale climbed out of his cruiser. “You again,” he said to her. “You know, dumpster diving is illegal.”

  “No it’s not. Why are you always trying to scare me with make-believe laws?”

  4

  On Tuesday morning, Sherri called Gertrude and invited her to come in for an interview.

  Gertrude was ecstatic. She’d never had an interview before.

  She changed three times before deciding on an outfit. She finally settled on a knee-length dress with a floral pattern that was mostly orange. In truth, she wasn’t sure if it was a dress or a housecoat, but when she put it on over red tights, she looked absolutely smashing. She added a string of chunky yellow beads for further flare.

  She felt quite confident as she pushed her walker through the Goodwill doors. She didn’t see Sherri anywhere, but she did see Matt running a register. She approached him warily.

  “Excuse me.”

  “What?” Matt snapped before he’d even looked at her. She didn’t answer, so he did look up at her and then became evidently disgusted. “Now what do you want?”

  “I’m here for a job interview.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “I am not,” Gertrude said indignantly.

  Matt rolled his eyes, but he did grab a radio from beside his register and spoke into it. “Sherri, the crazy lady from yesterday is here for a job interview.”

  “I’ll be right there,” came a terse reply.

  True to her word, Sherri materialized within seconds, and, without so much as a glance toward Gertrude, marched right up to Matt, leaned on the counter and spoke quietly, but sternly, to him. Gertrude strained to hear, but she couldn’t. Still, the red creeping up Matt’s neck led Gertrude to believe he was being scolded.

  Gertrude saw Matt nod, and then Sherri turned her attention to Gertrude. “Can I help you?”

  “Yes. I’m here for a job interview.”

  “And your name is?”

  “Gertrude.”

  Sherri looked at her watch. “You’re an hour early.”

  “Early bird gets the worm.”

  Sherri looked at her, incredulous.

  Gertrude shrugged and tried to smile.

  “All right then,” Sherri said. “Follow me.”

  Sherri led her to the back of the store, and Gertrude became excited when she realized Sherri was leading her to the big employee only swinging double doors—the gates of paradise. Sherri held one open and ushered Gertrude through. Then Sherri led her to a small, crooked desk in the corner of the room. “Have a seat,” she said, motioning to a metal folding chair. With a little effort, Gertrude sat. Sherri sat down on the other side of the desk. “So,” she began, and cleared her throat, “I didn’t realize when reviewing your application that you were you.”

  Gertrude scowled.

  “What I mean is,” Sherri corrected herself, “I didn’t know, by looking at your name, that you were the one who found that poor woman’s body, and that you were the one wandering around back here yesterday.”

  “But I applied for the job right in front of you. Do you really receive that many job applications?”

  “Well, yes, as a matter of fact. Since the killing, interest in working here has certainly spiked. Which is why I need to ask you …” Sherri placed her forearms on the desk and leaned forward, leveling a serious gaze at Gertrude. Gertrude had an urge to laugh, but she bit it back. “I’m concerned that your interest in working here might have something to do with the murder.”

  Was that a question? Am I supposed to say something? Unsure of what to do, she did nothing. She just sat there, expressionless, staring at Sherri and desperately wishing there
were a few cats on her lap.

  “In other words,” Sherri tried again, “do you have some sort of dark fascination with this place because of the crime that was committed here?”

  “No,” Gertrude said.

  Sherri stared at her, as if waiting for her to say more.

  Gertrude didn’t know what else there was to say.

  “OK, so why don’t you tell me why you do want to work here?”

  Gertrude felt her heart rate increase. I’d better not tell her I’m a gumshoe. “I like stuff,” Gertrude blurted out.

  Sherri raised one perfectly groomed and penciled eyebrow. Gertrude marveled at just how high that eyebrow could go, and what a sharp angle it formed at its apex. “You like stuff?” Sherri asked.

  “Yes. I find it fascinating. I think I would do a good job here, because I’m good at stuff.” She paused. “I’m good with stuff,” she corrected.

  Sherri leaned back in her chair. “All right then. Let’s give it a shot. You’ll have to go to the hospital and have a drug test performed. Ask the hospital to fax me the results. And we’ll have to run a background check on you.”

  “Really?” Gertrude exclaimed. “That’s it?”

  Sherri chuckled. “Well, I might have some misgivings, but your references spoke quite highly of you. And I’m a big fan of your pastor, so if he says you’re a good risk, then I take him at his word.”

  Gertrude practically bounced out of Goodwill, flashing a disturbingly triumphant smile at Matt as she passed.

  He looked as if he was going to be sick.

  5

  “I need to go to the hospital,” Gertrude told Norman.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She was surprised, and a little touched, by his concern. She knew he drove people to the hospital all the time.

  “Yes. I’m fine. Fit as a fiddle. I just need to go get a drug test for my job.”

  “Wow! They actually gave you a job?”

  “Of course they did! Why wouldn’t they? I’m quite a catch!”

  “Sorry, didn’t mean anything by it. I’m just impressed. Congratulations.”

  An exceptionally friendly woman named Lizz registered Gertrude at Mattawooptock General. Lizz seemed to think a drug test would be a grand time.

  “What are they going to test me for?” Gertrude asked as Lizz led her down a sparkling clean hallway.

  “Oh, they just do a general panel of recreational drugs.”

  “Like what?”

  Lizz smiled and pushed an elevator button. “I’m not sure. If you don’t take illegal drugs, then you have nothing to worry about.”

  Gertrude thought for a minute. “Are they going to test me for the grass?”

  Lizz laughed. “Yes. Probably. Why, do you smoke marijuana? You don’t look the type.”

  “No. But I’ve thought about it before. I know how much my cats love their catnip.”

  Lizz was still laughing. “I don’t think it’s the same thing.”

  Lizz left Gertrude with a nurse whose nametag read, “Bessie.” Bessie, who was decidedly less friendly than Lizz, led Gertrude into a bathroom, and gave her a small plastic cup.

  “What are you testing for?” Gertrude asked.

  Bessie rattled off, “Marijuana, opiates, cocaine, phencyclidine, and amphetamines.”

  Gertrude’s eyes grew wide. “What? Don’t they make drugs I can pronounce?”

  “Just pee in the cup. Then put it in here when you’re done.” The nurse opened a small cupboard in the bathroom wall.

  “What’s a fen-say-kli-dee?” Gertrude tried.

  The nurse rolled her eyes. “It’s a drug we’re testing for. Now do your thing.” She closed the door, leaving Gertrude alone in the spacious restroom.

  “How rude!” Gertrude said aloud to no one. She opened the cabinet door and looked inside. It was empty. Why am I putting my pee in a cupboard?

  Yet, she did her business and then put the evidence in the small cupboard. She closed the door and then listened for activity inside the cupboard. She soon heard the other side slide open. She ripped open the cupboard door, stuck her head in, and said, “Peekaboo!”

  Gertrude couldn’t see a face, but the person whose gloved hand was now on her cup gave a frightened gasp.

  “Sorry!” Gertrude said. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Just thought this fancy cupboard was neat.”

  The person on the other side did not respond, just slammed the door shut. It was just an empty cupboard again.

  Gertrude was back in the comfort of her cat-filled home only minutes later.

  She made herself a sandwich and settled in to watch some Antiques Roadshow, which was one of her favorite shows. But mostly, she was just waiting for Sherri to call. The minutes dragged by, and Gertrude couldn’t help but feel she was losing precious time—she knew, from watching television, that it doesn’t take long for a trail to go cold.

  She decided she should go visit her neighbor Calvin.

  She put herself together, wrapped herself up in warm clothes, and headed out into winter. She carefully made her way over the ice and snow—only December and already treacherous—and was soon pounding on Calvin’s door with a mittened fist.

  “What?” she heard Calvin snap from inside.

  “Let me in, Old Man Crow!” Gertrude hollered.

  “No!” Calvin hollered back.

  She tried the door handle. It turned. She let herself in.

  Calvin slammed his recliner into the upright position. “Well, shut the door! You’re letting all my heat out. I pay for that, you know!”

  She began to take her hat off.

  “Don’t undress. You’re not staying long. What do you want?”

  “Well, I wasn’t planning to undress, Calvin. And what I want is for you to call Frank.”

  Calvin turned his attention back to the television. “Frank the cop?” he asked.

  “The one and only.”

  “Well, Frank the cop resigned in a cloud of shame and moved to Massachusetts.”

  “Are you serious?” Gertrude couldn’t believe it.

  “I am. But, even if he lived in this actual house, I would not talk to him for you. What do you want with Frank? Haven’t you done him enough damage?”

  “Damage? I saved him from a serial killer!”

  Calvin guffawed, but still didn’t look away from the TV. “Serial killer? She wasn’t a serial killer! She was his girlfriend, and you had her thrown into prison! Now, you can go. It’s my nap time.”

  “Aren’t you curious what I want with him?” Gertrude asked.

  “Not at all.”

  “I want to know what the cops have for evidence,” she told him anyway.

  “Don’t care.”

  “I’ve got a new case,” she said, trying to entice him.

  “Not interested.”

  “Fine, you grump,” she muttered, turning to go.

  “Can you lock that door on your way out?”

  Gertrude most certainly did not.

  6

  Gertrude passed her drug test, and Sherri called to let her know she could start her training on Thursday morning. Again, Gertrude agonized over what to wear, but ended up going with a yellow dress with large black polka dots over blue leggings. She thought that would work well with her new blue apron.

  She wasn’t entirely wrong. She did look somewhat coordinated, if not outdated, but the ensemble wasn’t exactly slimming.

  Sherri tied the apron behind Gertrude’s back—without much string to spare—and then came around to the front of her to look her up and down. She nodded and said, “You look great,” unconvincingly. Then she motioned for another woman to join them. “This is Willow,” she said to Gertrude. “She is going to train you.” Willow was tall, thin, and expressionless.

  “Nice to meet—” Gertrude tried.

  “Come with me,” Willow said tonelessly and turned away from them.

  Gertrude looked at Sherri, who said, “Good luck,” and headed in the opposit
e direction.

  Gertrude and her walker followed Willow’s tight ponytail through the beautiful swinging doors and into the open area in the back. “You’ll start out with sorting,” Willow said without looking at Gertrude. “People drop their junk off out there,” she pointed toward the door, “and then we examine, categorize, and price.”

  “All right,” Gertrude said.

  Willow looked at her. “Don’t you think you should be writing this down?”

  Gertrude shook her head. “Look at, put in piles, put a number on it. Got it.”

  Willow rolled her eyes. “OK, so let’s start with this bin.” She pulled a bin closer to them. “Don’t touch anything,” she said, and disappeared. Gertrude gazed longingly into the bin, but everything was bagged up in black garbage bags, so she couldn’t tell what she was looking at. She could feel her heart rate increase. She couldn’t believe she’d never thought about working at Goodwill before.

  Willow returned and handed Gertrude a pair of rubber gloves.

  Gertrude took them and slid them on.

  “We always wear gloves,” Willow said. “Some of this stuff is completely disgusting. I learned that the hard way.”

  “But some of it is treasure!” Gertrude offered. She smiled, but then Willow gave her a chilling look, and Gertrude’s smile faded. “They don’t let you work with the customers, do they?”

  Willow glared at her. “Of course they do. I’m the smartest person here. I can’t believe Sherri has me wasting my time training you. A monkey could do this job.” She snapped her rubber gloves into place and then said, “So let’s get this over with.”

  She tore into one of the trash bags. Gertrude’s heart leapt as a variety of brightly colored trinkets spilled out.

  “Do we get first dibs on this stuff?” Gertrude asked, breathless.

  Willow glowered at her, and then returned her attention to the bin. “Of course not.”

  “Well, do we get an employee discount?”

  Willow didn’t look at her this time, but Gertrude knew she was still glowering. “No.”

  “Well,” Gertrude was exasperated, “what do we get?”