She noticed a long line of shopping carts along the wall and she headed toward these. Most of them were overflowing with goodies. She began to paw through one of them but a woman began screaming at her in a language other than her own. She backed away from the cart and realized many people were staring at her. Oh no. She realized then that these carts belonged to shoppers. They were filled with treasures that had already been claimed. She walked back to the bins, but when people stopped staring at her, she meandered toward the carts again. She resolved not to paw through them, but it couldn’t hurt to look, right? In the last cart, she saw something that made her heart leap. Keeping one eye on the crowd, she sneakily rearranged the cart until she could get a good look at the lamp inside it. But alas, it was the wrong lamp. No dead birds.
Just then, a tired-looking employee pushed a new, full bin toward her. She happily scurried toward it.
“Back!” someone barked. She looked around for the source of the command. Then she found her. Another angry woman was glaring at her. “Back! Stay behind the line!” she ordered. Gertrude looked down at her feet and sure enough, there was an actual red line on the floor. She stepped back behind it and waited, along with a growing crowd. Then the drill sergeant yelled, “OK, go!” and the crowd attacked the new bin. If it weren’t for her walker, Gertrude certainly would have been trampled. She watched the experts dig in and waited for some of the mania to abate before perusing the bin herself.
Nothing.
The next bin: nothing.
The next bin: a gorgeous sparkly purple housecoat she just had to have.
The next bin: an Elvis pepper shaker. There was no salt, but she figured that was OK. It was the King, after all.
The next bin: nothing.
She stood up and stretched. Her lower back ached like the dickens.
“I don’t think it’s here, Gertrude,” Calvin spoke from behind her.
She turned around. “I know.” She felt like crying. “But if it’s not here, I don’t know where to look next. Someone must have bought it. It could be anywhere in the state by now.”
“Or it could be in a landfill. You’re right. We’ve been here for hours. I’m pretty sure I’ve caught something awful by now. We should go.”
“Caught something?” Gertrude asked, sounding hopeful.
“Yeah, as in a communicable disease,” Calvin said with a grimace. “Come on, let’s go home and take long showers.”
“All right,” she conceded. “I’m just going to go to the little girls’ room first. It’s a long ride.”
“Fine,” he said. “Why not drag this nightmare out some more? I’ll go wait by the door.”
“Actually,” she said, handing him the robe and the Elvis shaker, “can you check out for me? It will save time, and I don’t have any money. I’ll pay you back later.”
“Yeah, when pigs fly,” Calvin muttered, but he grudgingly took her finds and headed toward the checkout scales.
She turned and looked around for a restroom sign. She found one that led her down a narrow hallway that spilled out into an even larger warehouse area. Her breath caught as she looked around. This room was triple the size of the one she had just left, and she had thought that one was monstrous. She looked around, her mouth hanging open, and completely forgot about the bathroom. Blue bins were stacked on top of blue bins. In all directions, all she could see was stuff stacked up to thirty feet in the air. And then she saw them. Hanging out of a bin. A few dead birds. She made a beeline for that bin and was soon standing under the birds, looking up at them. There was no doubt. They were the same birds. And there was also absolutely no way she could reach them. She looked around for a stepladder or very tall bookcase, but found neither. She did, however, find a forklift.
And the keys were in the ignition.
13
Gertrude climbed up into the machine, her heart thumping madly inside her chest. She turned the key. Then she pressed the gas pedal. Nothing happened. She pressed it harder. Still nothing. She pushed it to the floor and the forklift took off—backward. “Aiiii!” she screeched and slammed on the brakes. Too late, as she slammed into a pile of blue bins behind her. The pile of bins wobbled perilously as she looked up through the overhead guard of the forklift. “Please, Jesus, save me,” she whispered as the top few bins teetered off the stack and came careening down on top of her, effectively burying her in last chance Goodwill treasures. She felt something slippery slide by her cheek. She heard glass things smashing on impact. An Elvis salt shaker plopped into her lap.
When everything stopped moving, she checked herself over to make sure she was OK, and found that she was unscathed. Then she heard shouting, but she couldn’t see anything except used merchandise. Judging from the sound of footsteps, she figured at least two sets of feet were hurrying toward her.
“I’m all right!” she cried out. “Just had a small accident!”
She heard a flurry of activity, which she assumed was people digging her out, and within minutes, she saw two men, each wearing a blue apron and an incredibly sour expression on his face.
“Who are you?” one of them asked.
“I’m Gertrude.”
A woman appeared. “The police are on their way,” she said to the men. “They told me not to engage with her.”
“The police? Oh, good thinking!” She looked up and was happy to see the dead birds were hanging right where she’d last seen them.
“Can we start picking this up?” one of the men asked.
“Sure,” the woman said. “I don’t think that would hurt.”
Gertrude slyly slid the salt shaker into her pocket, and began to climb out of the forklift.
“You,” the woman snapped, looking at her with disdain, “don’t move. The police will deal with you.”
Gertrude plopped back down in the forklift seat, wishing it had lumbar support.
“I work at Goodwill too,” Gertrude said to them. “That means we’re practically family.”
No one answered her.
The pound store employees had about half of the pile cleared out when two police officers arrived.
“Can you step down out of there, ma’am?” one of them asked.
“Don’t call me ma’am. I’m not old,” she said. Then she tried to climb down and had some trouble. She looked at the policeman. “Actually, I think I could use a hand.”
He politely extended it. Then he said, “I’m Officer Mahoney. This is Officer Fortin.”
“I’m Gertrude. Could you retrieve that walker for me?” she asked Officer Fortin. It had been knocked over in the avalanche.
He righted the walker and placed it in front of her. “Thank you. All right. Now, what you’re looking for is right up there,” she said, pointing to the birds.
Officer Fortin looked. Officer Mahoney did not. He just said, “If you’ll follow me, right this way.”
“What about the lamp?” Gertrude asked.
“Please don’t make this difficult,” Mahoney said. “You need to come with us right now.”
“Come with you where?” Gertrude asked. She thought it was a reasonable question.
“We’re taking you down to the station. These people have to get back to work.”
“Oh!” Gertrude said. “Just let me tell Calvin.”
“Who’s Calvin?” Mahoney asked.
“He’s my assistant. And my neighbor. He’s out there,” she said, pointing to the retail room. “He was checking out for me.”
“OK, let’s go.” Mahoney led the way. Officer Fortin motioned for her to follow Mahoney. They reentered the retail room, and no one paid them any mind, except for Calvin, whose eyes grew wide.
“Can you point him out to us?” Mahoney asked.
She pointed to Calvin and then headed toward him.
“No,” Fortin said sternly. “You wait right here. Officer Mahoney will explain the events to him.”
Gertrude crossed her arms. “The events? What events? That I crashed a forklift? Look, that w
as an accident! I was just trying to get the lamp. Look, you just need to call Hale. He’s a cop with the Somerset County Sheriff’s Department. He’ll explain everything to you.” She realized Fortin wasn’t listening. “Hey!” she cried. She waved a hand in front of his face. “Are you even listening to me?”
Mahoney returned. “OK, I’ve explained everything to your friend. Now let’s go.” He grabbed her arm gently but firmly and walked her out to a cruiser that still had its blue lights flashing.
Suddenly, Gertrude felt embarrassed, an emotion she rarely experienced. She wondered for the first time if she was in trouble. Mahoney helped her into the backseat and then collapsed her walker and put it in the trunk. She looked out the window and saw Calvin looking in at her from the doorway. He managed to look both disgusted and concerned.
She tried to roll down the window. Nothing happened. She pounded on it and hollered, “The lamp is back there, Calvin! I saw it! Way up high! You need to go get it! It’s back there! In a blue bin! The dead birds are showing!”
“Quiet!” Mahoney ordered as he slid into the driver’s seat.
Gertrude remained silent and still, but she was fuming. This is what I get for trying to catch a murderer! How was I supposed to know the forklift was broken? Why in tarnation did it go backward? And why won’t anyone listen to me?
They pulled into the Gorham Police Department, and Mahoney helped Gertrude out of the car. Then he led her to a small room and offered her a chair. She accepted. She expected him to sit down too, but he left her there, alone. She was exhausted. She was starving. She was frustrated. And she missed her cats so much that she vowed to never leave her house again. Then she thought she probably ought to still go to church. But that was it. House and church. Thinking about church made her think about Pastor Dan. He was always getting people out of trouble.
Officer Fortin entered the small room and sat down.
“Can I have a phone call?”
“Not right now. You’re not under arrest.”
“I’m not? Then what am I doing here?”
“We just have a few questions.”
He asked her for her name and social security number.
She asked him if he had any peanuts.
He did not.
He asked her why she had vandalized the pound store.
“Vandalized? Are you bonkers? I don’t vandalize things! I’ve already tried to tell you. I’m a gumshoe, and I was looking for the murder—”
“A gumshoe?” Fortin interrupted. “Where do you work?”
“Goodwill, but I was at the pound store trying to—”
“Which Goodwill?”
“Mattawooptock.”
“OK, and you live in Mattawooptock?”
“Yes. I told you to call Hale—”
“OK, I’ll be right back.” Officer Fortin disappeared, and Gertrude was alone again. She decided that every interrogation room on earth should have a cat. She vowed that if she ever actually interrogated someone, she would make sure they had a cat to hold.
Officer Fortin reappeared several long minutes later. “You can go, ma’am.”
“What?”
“We’ve talked to your boss, and she explained everything.”
“Explained what? She has no idea what I’m—”
“Your friend Calvin is here. He will take you home. But you are not allowed to ever go to the pound store again, OK? Someone could have been seriously hurt. If anyone sees you in the pound store, there will be no more warnings. You’ll be in real trouble next time. Do you understand?”
Gertrude nodded.
He stood in the doorway as if waiting for her to get up.
She did. Then she followed Fortin to the lobby and was thrilled to find Calvin waiting there.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Just get me out of here, please,” Gertrude muttered.
14
In the car, Calvin tried to explain. “Well, the cops think you’re a little, well …” he seemed to be searching for the right word.
“A little what?” Gertrude snapped.
“Tilted?” he tried.
“Tilted?! Why on earth do they think that?”
“I don’t know, but be grateful. They called your boss, and she told them you are disabled, and so they went easy on you. I mean, you’re really lucky, Gertrude. You tried to steal a forklift!”
“I didn’t steal anything! Well, except the Elvis salt shaker. Did you buy the pepper shaker, by the way?”
“Yes.”
“How much was it?”
“Thirteen cents.”
“Fabulous,” Gertrude said, gleefully. “I’ll pay you back.”
“Gertrude! Can we talk about what really matters here? Why were you driving a forklift?”
“I found it, Calvin. I tried to tell you through the cop car window. I really found the lamp. It was in the back, but I couldn’t reach it. But I found it! It’s still there!”
“Are you sure?”
“Dead certain.”
Calvin sighed. “Well, I guess you’ve just got to tell the cops when we get home. I mean, you can’t go back in there.”
Gertrude was quiet.
“Why are you being quiet? You’re making me nervous.”
“I’m just tired. And I don’t know what to do. I’ve already tried to tell Hale about the murder weapon, and he ignored me. He made fun of me. I don’t want to talk to him again. He’s so mean. I really wanted to be the hero, and now I just don’t know if that’s going to happen.”
“Ah,” Calvin said, “being the hero is overrated.”
“How would you know?”
Calvin chuckled. “I don’t. I was just trying to help you feel better.”
***
Gertrude sat alone in her trailer that night. The lights were off, except for the TV, which was on Antiques Roadshow. Blizzard and Cyclone were curled up on her lap. This was odd, as Cyclone wasn’t usually much of a snuggler. She must have sensed that something was amiss.
And something definitely was. Gertrude’s determination was flagging. Maybe Calvin was right. Maybe she should just let the cops figure it out. She had tried to help. They had made it clear they didn’t want her help. Golly, she disliked Hale. She really wanted to prove him wrong.
A man on the screen was getting an antique headlamp appraised. This gave Gertrude an idea. She stood up abruptly, sending her two feline friends tumbling to the floor. Blizzard landed gracefully and sauntered off. Cyclone gave Gertrude a dirty look and sat down in front of her walker, like a little kitty roadblock.
Gertrude paid her no mind and skirted around her on her way to the kitchen. She flipped on the light over the sink and reached for a box on top of a cupboard. If she remembered correctly, which she always did, the box was full of camping supplies. Gertrude had never been camping in her life, but she was always impressed with those preppers, those folks who were ready for anything. This box was her way of being ready. She pulled out handful after handful of matchbooks, fondly remembering the days when restaurants and stores gave away free matches. They never gave away anything free anymore. She pulled out a water filter, batteries, gauze, latex gloves, antiseptic, fifty feet of rope, a Swiss army knife, a large package of freeze-dried cat food, and then finally, found what she was looking for: an L.L. Bean headlamp. She flipped it on. The batteries still worked. She grabbed a few spare batteries just in case and then slid the big box back into its spot. Then she put the headlamp on her head, put on her coat, and headed out into the cold.
She pounded on Calvin’s door.
He didn’t answer.
She pounded again. “Calvin!” she hollered as loud as she could.
The door flew open.
“Gertrude! What is wrong with you? It’s after midnight!”
“I know! Look!” she said, pointing at her head.
“What?”
“The headlamp!”
“What about it?”
“I was watching Antiques Road
show and I got an idea!”
Calvin stared at her.
“You have to take me back, Calvin. I’ll break in. I’ll use the headlamp to see. I won’t get caught, I promise. I know exactly where the killer lamp is. I’ll be in and out, easy-peasy.”
“And just how do you plan to break in?” Calvin asked.
“You’ll see!” she said, pushing past him into his house. “Come on, put some pants on. We’ve got to get going so we can be out of there before the sun comes up.”
Calvin grudgingly shut the door and followed her into his living room. “Gertrude, I am not, I repeat, I am not driving you back to Gorham tonight, or ever for that matter. I don’t want you to get into trouble, and even more importantly, I don’t want to get into trouble. So you go home and go to bed.” He turned and headed toward his bedroom. “You can show yourself out. Don’t forget to lock the door.”
“If you don’t take me, I will hitchhike.”
Calvin went out of sight, but she heard him grunt. She took a step closer to his dark bedroom. “I swear I will! I will hitchhike!”
“Fine by me. You go have fun,” Calvin said. “Try not to get picked up by a serial killer.”
It sounded like he had crawled back into bed.
“Fine! Be that way! I’m going! I’m going to hitchhike all the way to Gorham! Maybe I’ll live, maybe I won’t! Have a nice life, old man!” She turned and stomped down the hall.
She’d gotten all the way to his door when she heard him behind her. “Fine. Just give me a minute to get dressed.”
She didn’t turn around, so he couldn’t see the giant smile spread across her face.
15
Once again, Gertrude slept all the way to Gorham.
Calvin elbowed her in the ribs when he pulled into the now deserted pound store parking lot.
“Ow!” she cried.
“I think I hate you,” he said.
“What? Why?”
“Because I’m so tired I think I might die and you just slept for two hours. And this is all your idea.”
“Oh yeah. That. Sorry. Tell you what! You can sleep on the way home. I’ll drive.”
Gertrude, Gumshoe Cozy Mystery Series Box Set: Books 1, 2, and 3 Page 16