After a long pause that would have felt awkward to most people, but not so much to Gertrude, she asked, “So what brings you to my neck of the woods?”
Andy looked down, as if embarrassed about something.
“What’s wrong, Andy? Cat got your tongue? Around here, that’s possible.” She laughed at her joke. He did not. Some people just have no sense of humor.
“Could I come in?”
Gertrude took a step back. “I s’pose so, but it’s hotter than a hoochie coochie in here.”
Andy chuckled, but it sounded forced. He stepped inside, and his eyes grew wide as he looked around her home. “Wow, you sure do have a lot of … stuff.”
Gertrude’s chest grew tight with defensiveness. “I’m a collector. Wouldn’t be a very good collector if I didn’t collect things. Now what can I do for you?”
Andy started to shut the door behind him.
“Leave it open. It’s a lot cooler out there.”
“Won’t your cats get out?” As he spoke the words, Lightning zipped through the doorway.
“Yes, but that’s all right. My neighbors love cats.” At least, none of them have ever complained. That I know of.
“Anyway,” Andy continued, his eyes scanning the room again as if he just couldn’t believe what he was seeing, “are you still doing that private investigating thing?”
Gertrude’s heart leapt. “Why, yes I am!”
Andy looked at her. His eyes were steady, unemotional. “How much do you charge?”
Gertrude frowned. She had no idea how much she charged. No one had ever paid her for her services. “Twelve dollars an hour?” she guessed.
Andy nodded and looked around again. “Do you think maybe you could work for a few hours, see what you could find out for me? I don’t have much money, but I really need some help.”
“Sure!” Gertrude trembled with excitement. This would be her very first paying client. Her first willing client. “What’s the case?”
“My girlfriend is missing.”
“Oh,” Gertrude said, feeling a little guilty for being excited about such a pickle. But only a little. “Have you gone to the police?”
Andy looked disgusted at the idea. “Aren’t they kind of your competition? Why do you want me to go to them?”
“Because if your girlfriend is in danger, we want all hands on deck, right? The cops aren’t my competition. It’s more like I work alongside them.” This was sort of true.
Andy grimaced. “Yes, I told them, and they don’t care. Or they don’t believe me. I don’t know. She’s only been missing for a day, and they seem to think she’s not really missing. They acted like I’ve been dumped and just don’t know it yet.”
“Have you?”
“Have I what?”
“Been dumped?”
“No! Look, I really love Samantha. And she loves me. This isn’t just some fling. We’re going to get married. This is unlike any other relationship I’ve ever had. It’s for real, and she wouldn’t just up and leave me. Something is really wrong. I can feel it.”
“All right, Andy. I was just asking. How long has she been missing?”
“She went to work yesterday. I talked to her coworker—”
“Where does she work?”
“Hospital. She’s a CNA.”
“Hang on,” Gertrude said. “Let me get some note-taking implements.” She hobbled into the kitchen.
“You OK?”
“Yep, just got a little ache in my upper tuchus, is all.” She rummaged through a drawer and came up with a pad of paper and a pen. She returned to find him staring at her. “What?”
“Nothing. Just wondering if I’ve lost my mind asking you for help. You’re not exactly a typical private investigator.”
“Nothing good about typical, no there ain’t. Besides, I’m the only one in town. Now, what’s your girlfriend’s last name?”
“Actually, no, you’re not the only one in town.”
Gertrude’s head snapped up. “What?”
“Colby Rodin.”
“Who in tarnation is Colby Rodin?”
“He’s a PI. Got an office downtown. Been there for years.”
“Well, I’ve never heard of him. So he must not be anything to write home about. Besides, you’re here, aren’t you?”
“He charges fifty dollars an hour and a two hundred dollar retainer.”
“I see.” Gertrude wished she’d given more thought to her hourly rate. “Well anyway, you’re here now, so let’s get to work. Her name is Samantha what?”
“Cooper.”
“All right,” Gertrude said, writing that down, “and she’s a CNA at the hospital?”
“Yes.”
“And she went to work yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“What were her hours?”
“Seven to six.”
“Wowsa, that’s a long shift.”
“Yeah, but she only works four days a week, so she likes it. Today was the first day of her three days off, and we were supposed to go for a hike …” Andy’s voice trailed off. The sadness in it made Gertrude acutely uncomfortable.
“Pretty muddy for a hike,” Gertrude commented.
“Yeah. Samantha is outdoorsy. And she can talk me into anything.” He sounded even sadder.
“All right, so did she work her full shift?”
“Yes, I talked to a girl who works with her, and she said that Sam left work at the normal time, and was in a good mood and everything.”
“What time did she leave exactly?”
“Six.”
Gertrude wrote that down. “And do you know if anyone has seen her since?”
“I don’t think so. She never went home last night—”
“Went home? You two don’t cohabitate?”
“No. She wanted to wait till we were married.”
Gertrude raised an eyebrow. “Old-fashioned girl, eh?”
“As I was saying, her roommate, Akayla, said she hasn’t come back to her apartment. She hasn’t heard from her either. But there is this …” He pulled his cell out of his back pocket. “Sam had an appointment with someone named Patsy at six-thirty. I don’t know what this is, or who Patsy is, but it just appeared on our calendar yesterday.”
“Our calendar?” Gertrude asked, confused.
“Yeah, we share a Google calendar. So she added this sometime yesterday, but I don’t know when.” He held the phone out to her.
She didn’t take it. She wasn’t sure why he wanted her to. “And does it say where the appointment was?”
“No. It just says ‘Patsy,’ which you could see for yourself if you would just take the phone.”
Gertrude ignored his outstretched phone and wrote, “Andy can be rude,” on her notepad.
Finally, he gave up and put the phone back in his pocket.
“Did you tell the cops about Patsy?”
“They didn’t let me get that far.”
“All right, what else do we know?” Gertrude asked.
“That’s it.”
“That’s it?”
“Yep. She’s missing. Her car’s missing. I can’t find anyone who has seen her. And I don’t know who Patsy is. You now know everything I know.”
“OK, can you take me to her apartment?”
“Uh ... sure. You want me to drive you?”
“Yes. I need a ride.”
“You don’t have a car?”
“I do not.”
“What kind of a private investigator has no car?”
2
Akayla answered the door seconds after Andy knocked, and then looked annoyed when she saw that it was him.
Gertrude stepped forward. “I’m Gertrude. When was the last time you saw Samantha?”
“Why?” Akayla said, alarmed. “Did something happen?”
“Yes, something happened,” Andy snapped. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!”
Akayla ignored him and looked at Gertrude. “What happened?”
>
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. When was the last time you saw her?”
“Yesterday morning. When she left for work.”
“Can we come in and look around?” Gertrude asked, stepping inside before Akayla could protest.
Akayla gave Andy a questioning look, to which he said, “She’s a private investigator. Sort of.”
“Andy, I thought the cops said there was nothing to worry about,” Akayla said.
“They did, but they don’t know Sam. She wouldn’t just vanish unless something is wrong. Maybe if you call them, they’ll take the whole thing seriously.”
She nodded. “OK. I’ll call them right now.” She headed toward the kitchen.
Gertrude called after her, “Do you know anyone named Patsy?”
She located her phone on the cluttered kitchen table. “No,” she said, coming back toward them. “Andy already asked me that. Why, who’s Patsy?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Gertrude said. “But if the cops will let you, you might want to mention that Samantha had an appointment with a person named Patsy last night.”
“OK,” Akayla said, and dialed the phone.
“Also, don’t mention to the cops that I’m here,” Gertrude added.
This imperative appeared to vex Akayla. “Why?”
“They don’t like me.” Gertrude looked at Andy. “Take me to Samantha’s bedroom.”
He led the way down a narrow hallway and then stopped at a door to his left. He gingerly opened it as if afraid something was going to jump out at him. As the door slowly swung open, he just stood there, looking into the bedroom.
“Well?” Gertrude prodded. “Either go in or get out of my way!”
He stepped aside. “Sorry. I just … I’ve never been in her bedroom. Just feels wrong. Like I’m invading her privacy.”
“No problem,” Gertrude said, pushing past him. “I’ll invade it.”
The room was a mess. The bed was unmade. There were piles of clothing on the floor, and more heaped on her dresser. A jewelry armoire stood open, with dozens of necklaces hanging from the hooks. She must not have a cat, Gertrude thought. Samantha’s mirror was decorated with pictures of her and Andy, most of them taken outside. “She’s a looker,” Gertrude remarked.
“I know,” Andy said dolefully.
Gertrude plucked one of the photos from the mirror, a close-up of the two of them, smiling, the wind blowing their hair back. “Can I keep this one for a while?”
“Sure.”
She heard fear in his voice, so she added, “Just till we find her, Andy. I’ll give it back to her then.”
Andy nodded.
To avoid any more interaction with Andy’s emotions, Gertrude began rifling through Samantha’s drawers. As she was doing this, Akayla appeared in the doorway. “The cops took the information down. Said they’d start looking for her and her car.”
“Wow, you had a lot more pull than I did,” Andy said.
Akayla gave him a look that said, Of course I did. Then she looked at Gertrude. “Are you sure you need to go through her drawers?”
“Just looking for anything out of the ordinary,” Gertrude muttered. What she wanted to say was, “Don’t question my methods. I’m the professional here.”
“Why don’t the cops like you?” Akayla asked.
“Long story,” Gertrude said, as she slid her hands along the bottom of the drawers, searching for hidden clues. Finding none, she stood up straight, her back cracking. “Did you tell them about Patsy?”
“Yep,” Akayla said. “Should I help you look?”
“Sure,” Gertrude said. “She sure does have a lot of clothes.”
“It’s kind of an addiction of hers. Clothes and jewelry. Purses and scarves. She hated that she had to wear scrubs to work. But she got all this stuff used, so it’s an inexpensive addiction.”
Andy let out a soft moan. Gertrude looked up at him. He was white as a sheet. She didn’t know if she’d ever seen anyone look so sad and so scared.
“Why don’t you go sit down for a spell, Andy? We’ve got this,” Gertrude said.
Without a word, Andy disappeared down the hallway.
Akayla moved the blankets on the bed around, revealing a laptop. She flipped it open and sat down on the bed. “I’m going to look on her Facebook page. See if there’s a Patsy.”
“Oh, good idea,” Gertrude said. “Facebook has helped me solve every mystery so far.”
Akayla looked unconvinced. Her fingers skittered across the keyboard.
“Wowsa! You type with both hands! With all fingers too!”
Akayla, either not hearing this odd compliment or choosing to ignore it, said, “Aw, crap!”
“What?” Gertrude said, leaning in to peer at the screen.
“She’s got her privacy settings all jacked up. I can’t even see her friends list.”
“Why would she do that?” Gertrude asked. “She got something to hide?”
“No!” Akayla said defensively. “She’s an attractive woman in an ugly world. And she’s smart. I should’ve guessed she’d be keeping her account pretty private. She doesn’t spend much time on Facebook anyway.”
Gertrude sat beside Akayla on the bed. Akayla scooted several inches away from her. “Where does Sam spend her time?” Gertrude asked.
“At work. Or outside.”
“No, I mean on the computer. Can you tell what internet places she’s visited lately? She must have been doing something. She had the computer in her bed.”
“Good point. Let me check her history.” Akayla tapped some keys and then muttered as she read, “Natural Health News, Netflix, Best Hiking Trails in Maine, and VardSale? What the heck is VardSale?”
“How should I know? Click on it.”
“I just did.”
The two women sat, uncomfortably close to each other, staring at the laptop screen. Finally, something loaded. “Welcome to VardSale, your virtual yard sale experience!” Akayla read aloud.
“Wowsa!” Gertrude said. “This looks like fun!”
“Maybe,” Akayla said, her brow furrowed, “but I’m not really sure why we need a virtual yard sale experience when we already have Craigslist and Uncle Henry’s.”
“I love Uncle Henry’s,” Gertrude cooed. “Got many of my treasures that way. And a few of my cats. But that’s just a book. It’s not on the computer.”
Akayla looked at her as if she were stupid. “Uncle Henry’s is absolutely a website. Where you been?”
“Oh. I still get mine in the mail. Excuuuuse me!”
“It looks like she’s got some notifications,” Akayla said, and clicked on a bell icon. “Looks like she’s been trying to buy all sorts of stuff.”
“Click on the little envelope.” Gertrude pointed a stubby finger at the screen.
“That’s her messages. She doesn’t have any new ones, or it would tell us.”
“Just do it.”
Akayla clicked.
They both gasped.
Samantha had been talking to someone named Patsy Pelotte. Silently, both women read the conversation. And it was lengthy. Patsy seemed to be far more motivated to engage in small talk than to sell anything. She wrote a lot about the weather, her favorite television shows, and even asked questions about Samantha’s boyfriend, which Samantha had deftly dodged.
Smart girl.
Samantha had agreed to meet Patsy behind the New Balance factory, when she got out of work at six-thirty. She was going to give Patsy three dollars for a pair of Nike sneakers.
“Scandalous!” Gertrude remarked.
“What?”
“Selling Nikes at a New Balance factory.”
“We should call the cops, tell them to go look there for her car,” Akayla said, ignoring Gertrude’s joke.
“You do that. First, can you click on Patsy? Maybe see a profile or something? I think it’s a little odd that she would get out of work at six-thirty, when the factory lets out at three.”
>
“Maybe she works security or something,” Akayla offered. She clicked on Patsy’s name and a new page loaded. Then Akayla said a bad word.
The screen read, “This user account has been removed.”
“Oh succotash!” Gertrude exclaimed.
“I’m calling the cops.”
“You do that,” Gertrude said, and got up to go fill Andy in.
3
Much to Gertrude’s dismay, the sheriff’s department beat Andy, Akayla, and her to the New Balance factory parking lot. Samantha’s blue Corolla was surrounded by deputies. One was digging in the trunk. One was sitting in the driver’s seat. Deputy Hale, Gertrude’s least favorite law enforcement professional, was standing off to the side, hands on his hips, apparently supervising.
As the motley threesome climbed out of Andy’s car, Deputy Hale winced at the sight of Gertrude. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Samantha is a friend of mine,” Gertrude said.
“Of course she is. Well, there’s nothing to see here. This is a crime scene—”
“Crime scene?” Andy cried, taking a step toward the car. “Why, what did you find?”
“Take it easy, sir,” Hale said, using a professional voice Gertrude hadn’t heard him use before. He stepped between Andy and the Toyota. “We haven’t found anything. But we are considering this a missing person case now. No reason to worry yet, but we are now actively looking for her. You’re the boyfriend?”
Andy swallowed hard, and nodded.
“Can you come down to the office, answer a few questions?”
Andy glared at Hale. “I was at the office this morning, and no one could be bothered to ask me any questions.”
“I understand your frustration, sir. We’re listening now. Can you come to the office?”
“It’s all right, Andy,” Gertrude said. “Go answer their questions. It might help. Tell them about VardSale.” She lowered her voice so only Andy could hear. “In the meantime, I’ll keep investigating.”
Andy nodded, appeared to be fighting back tears, and said to Hale, “OK, I’ll meet you there.”
“Wait,” Akayla said. “We rode with you. You can’t just leave us here, stranded at the New Balance factory on the hottest day of the year!”
Gertrude, Gumshoe Cozy Mystery Series Box Set: Books 1, 2, and 3 Page 19
