Gretchen Birch Boxed Set (Books 1-4)

by Deb Baker

  If Dean McNalty wanted to eliminate the Swilling trust beneficiaries, he would have killed Trudy Fernwich, not Allison Thomasia.

  Trudy Fernwich might have killed Allison, but Caroline had also been attacked Would the Fernwich woman have offered the doll club the opportunity to convert the house only to turn around and try to kill them? Not likely.

  She crossed off McNalty and Fernwich.

  Jerome had a switch blade and a bad attitude. He was her first pick. But Daisy didn’t think he’d done anything wrong, and Daisy wasn’t easily fooled. She also had that unexplained networking thing going on. Could their drums beat out the name of the real killer if the homeless community needed to know? Gretchen wouldn’t be surprised.

  Then she remembered her mother’s comment about Jerome. She had seen him at the accident, speaking with the homeless. His presence established evidence against him, suggested he was following Caroline. It could also be the basis for his innocence, if Daisy was correct about his role as protector.

  Next, Gretchen wrote down the names of the doll club members, but quickly eliminated them. After all, they were her friends. They were working hard to make the fundraiser a success.

  Her pen wavered above Julie’s name. Julie Wicker was the peacemaker of the group, running interference between the director and the cast, always having a kind word to say. So why hadn’t Julie met her like she said she would? What did she know? What if she had been murdered for what she knew?

  What about Andy? He didn’t have an alibi, and he’d left identification at the cemetery like a calling card. And he and his wife were estranged when she died.

  Andy and Jerome were tied for first place.

  But Andy hadn’t attacked her with a weapon as Jerome had. Thinking back on the encounter, Jerome hadn’t exactly attacked them. He hadn’t even put up much resistance. Gretchen’s adrenaline had been pumping hard at the time. Now, she wondered if her mother and she had initiated the assault.

  The more she thought, the more confused she became.

  While she was at it, she might as well add the ghost to the murder tree she was creating. What if the apparition held a grudge against the family and would haunt them forever, killing descendants in bloody revenge? Gretchen didn’t write that down. It was too far out in Ninaland for her.

  Gretchen left the coffee pot to work its magic brew and returned to the comfort of the stage chair.

  That’s when she heard a soft click coming from down the hall.

  Chapter 46

  Gretchen ducked into the break room and pressed her body up behind the door, one eye staring out from the crack. Heavy footsteps slowly approached.

  A cold blast of intuition had propelled Gretchen out of the chair and off the stage, telling her to seek shelter. Hurry. She reacted to the perceived threat and ran, now feeling slightly foolish for hiding behind a door.

  She’d lost all perspective. She was running scared instead of standing and fighting. Yet she wasn’t about to come out without knowing who was inside the room.

  Through the crack in the door, she watched and waited. Footsteps paused. She flatted herself further. Whoever was inside the building was as wary as she.

  The footsteps continued forward until he came into view.

  Anthony Thomasia!

  The man had a way of working with locks that frightened her. What was wrong with him that he couldn’t respect a locked door? He was carrying a weapon of some sort, holding it in his right hand like he expected to use it soon.

  The silence was so absolute, Gretchen was sure he’d hear her if she swallowed or blinked. She froze, motionless like the six-foot Barbie on the stage that had caught his attention. She had a moment to think of her next move while he stepped up on the stage and walked around the enormous doll.

  She didn’t have anything to protect herself with. Where was her pepper spray? Gretchen couldn’t remember what she’d done with it after spraying Jerome.

  Daisy had been right about Jerome. Now that she was locked in a deserted building with the murdered woman’s husband, she believed Daisy.

  Too Late.

  Think! How am I going to escape?

  Andy’s gaze found the teddy bear lying on the floor in front of the chair Gretchen had so hastily abandoned. He swung his head toward the break room, alert again, hunting for sound or motion. He cocked his head, his eyes sweeping along the floor from the stage to the door where Gretchen hid.

  She pressed against the wall.

  His eyes followed the crack in the door from the bottom up. He looked sinister, gaunt and menacing.

  Their eyes locked.

  “Don’t come down from the stage,” Gretchen said. “Or I’ll shoot.”

  “You’re the exact image of your mother. Feisty, passionate.” Andy moved fluidly down the stage steps. “Impulsive.”

  “I mean it. Stop.”

  “You don’t have a gun.”

  “I do.”

  “Show me.”

  “I don’t take orders from you.”

  “Where’s Caroline?” he asked.

  “She’ll be here any minute with the police.”

  Where are you, Mom?

  Andy looked a little worn around the edges. Under different circumstances, Gretchen would have felt sorry for him. That is, if he hadn’t been so adept at breaking and entering. And if his driver’s license hadn’t been left at the scene of the murder. “What happened at the museum?” he asked.

  “Why?”

  “I saw a cop leaving.”

  “I don’t know what happened,” Gretchen lied.

  My mother and I decided to beat up the wrong guy, that’s what really happened.

  “Come out from behind the door,” Andy said. “We need to talk.”

  “I wouldn’t have helped you in the first place if I knew then what I know now.”

  “Somebody is setting me up. You have to believe me.”

  “Go away. Tell that to the police.”

  “Come out and talk to me.”

  “Yeah, right, like I’ll trot right over and let you stab me.”

  Andy scowled. Then he glanced at the thing in his hand. “Oh, this? It’s my lock pick.” He put it in his pocket and held up his hands as though that would reassure her.

  Gretchen, still flattened against the wall behind the door, looked back into the break room, frantic to find a weapon and protect herself. Where was the stage pistol? That would get her out of here. He wouldn’t know it was a fake.

  The gun wasn’t in sight.

  “I tell you what,” Andy said, taking one slow step at a time toward her. “I’ll come in there and we’ll have a cup of that wonder-smelling coffee and share information.”

  “Stay out. I’m warning you.”

  “But I’m turning myself in, right? I’m giving myself up to you.”

  He came closer, reached the threshold. When he walked through the doorway, Gretchen used all her might to slam the door against him. She locked both palms against the back of the door and shoved as hard as she could, throwing all her body weight behind it.

  She felt resistance, but she’d expected that. If his reflexes were slower than hers, the door might hit him in the head. That didn’t happen. Instead, the door was coming back at her.

  They were locked in a war against each other. He, on the outside, determined to get in. She, on the inside, doing everything she could to keep him out.

  Gretchen was a strong woman. She’d been jealous of all the Phoenix twig women when she had first arrived in Arizona, but now, she thanked her body. Heavier would have been even better. Three hundred pounds would have been perfect.

  She was no match for Andy. He had the advantage of additional weight and more arm strength.

  He was going to kill her after he won this last arm wrestling bout.

  She felt the door inching back at her, heard both of them breathing hard, felt her feet sliding back, and looked around one last time for a weapon.

  Then she was flung away and the do
or banged against the wall, wide open.

  “I don’t have time for this,” Andy snarled, coming at her. “You’re going to tell me what you know, if I have to force it out of you.”

  Gretchen grabbed the first thing she saw, the first thing she could get in her grasp, and whipped it at him. The coffeepot crashed into Andy and a wave of hot coffee shot from the rim.

  He slapped his hands against his face, trying to wipe away the hot brew.

  “Strike one,” she screamed, feeling a bit of triumph in spite of her terror. The coffee pot shattered on the floor, but she was already moving, picking up a heavy cup and throwing it at him, striking his forehead. She wasn’t going down without a fight. She’d make sure to scratch him. They would find traces of his DNA under her fingers. She’d figure out how to leave a message before she died.

  She backed toward a small, cluttered table in the corner. Stage props were piled on it, and she almost collapsed in joy when she saw the butt of the stage gun poking out of the mess.

  Gretchen grabbed the gun and trained it on Andy. “Turn around slowly,” she said. “Do it!”

  That stopped him. Without another word, he did as she demanded, turning his back to her. He looked overly confident for a man in his position. His hands were in his pockets. The pick!

  Without further thought, she smashed the butt of the gun down on his head. He wobbled. She drew back and struck again, harder this time. He crashed to the floor.

  Standing over his prone body, Gretchen hoped she hadn’t hit him too hard. What if she’d killed him?

  Andy didn’t move.

  Was he breathing?

  Gretchen wasn’t about to get close enough to find out.

  She’d call the cops and an ambulance from someplace safe.

  Should she run out into the street and flag someone down?

  No. She’d get Mr. B. He’d help her.

  Gretchen pounded up the stairs and rapped hard on Mr. B.’s apartment door, watching her back all the way, feeling afraid, feeling the adrenaline.

  Chapter 47

  Mr. B didn’t answer her desperate knocks. She turned the door knob.

  Unlocked.

  What a break.

  If he wasn’t home, she could still go inside and use his phone. He’d never know, and if he did, he’d understand that she had no choice. Gretchen opened the door cautiously, not wanting to startle Mr. B. if he was home. “It’s Gretchen,” she called, trying to project her voice out, but not loud enough to give her location away to Andy. “I need to use your phone.”

  Gretchen quickly shut the door behind her and locked it, loving the sound of the bolt action. Then she remembered Andy’s lock picking tool. He still had it.

  Move quickly, she told herself. Although he hadn’t looked like he was in any shape to pursue her.

  She looked around at the typical single older male décor, stark in contrast to what he’d accomplished with the lower banquet hall. The smell of pipe tobacco hung in the air, thick and soothing.

  Gretchen moved through the apartment, still calling out softly while glancing around for a landline. If Mr. B. were younger, he might not have one in this modern day of high-tech advancement and wireless connections, but Gretchen had noticed his old-fashioned mannerisms and she’d never seen him using a cell phone.

  He’d have a landline in his house.

  The small kitchen and living area didn’t produce one.

  The door to the only other room in the apartment was closed. She tapped. Nothing from inside.

  Slowly she turned the handle.

  What would he think if he came home and found her inside, searching through his house? How embarrassing would that be?

  Gretchen poked her head inside. His bedroom. Drawn blinds on the windows kept the room cast in darkness, but she could tell it wasn’t occupied at the moment. She flipped on a switch on the wall next to the door and an overhead light came on.

  There better be a phone in here or she’d have to go back down those steps and risk another encounter with Andy. That is, if she hadn’t killed him.

  For good measure, she also locked the bedroom door. That would slow down the professional lock picker.

  The nightstand didn’t offer up a phone. Neither did the top of the dresser.

  The man didn’t have a phone!

  Gretchen’s eyes lit on a glass curio cabinet in the corner that she hadn’t noticed at first. She walked over and peered in…and sucked in her breath in surprise.

  The cabinet contained rocks, a fairly sizeable collection. Each specimen had an identification tag attached to it.

  Gretchen opened the curio and picked up a rock. Read the tag.

  Exchanged it for another. Read another tag.

  And another.

  The rocks had long complex names that she couldn’t pronounce, let alone decipher. Granodiorite, gabbro, anaorthosite gneiss.

  And every one of them had a place of origin neatly printed underneath the name.

  Cairo.

  Jericho.

  Rhodesia.

  The same exotic places she’d daydreamed about. The travel stickers had come from these faraway cities. They had been placed lovingly on a doll’s travel truck by a young girl named Flora.

  Gretchen had found John Swilling’s rock collection.

  Chapter 48

  Caroline sits in an interrogation room with Matt Albright. Good thing Gretchen took off down the street before the detective found out about their escapade at the museum. He’s working his jaw like he’s trying to restrain an angry outburst. It crosses her mind to push him a little. What happens when her daughter’s boyfriend gets really angry? She’d like to see him at his worst.

  If he’s not the right guy for Gretchen, she wants to know now.

  “Let me get this straight,” he says. “You spent the night at the museum after I specifically told you that it was off-limits?”

  “You never told me any such thing.”

  “I warned Gretchen. The two of you violated police orders. That building is under investigation. It’s a crime scene. I can’t believe it.” He studies the ceiling like he might find the answer written up there.

  Caroline feels a tinge of compassion for him. He’s in a tough place, sitting on the fence between his professional ethics and his personal relationship with her daughter. Would he be exhibiting this kind of frustration with two women he didn’t know? She doesn’t think so. He feels helpless and is afraid for them. His emotions surface as anger. She studied psychology in college and is putting it to good use.

  She won’t let him get to her.

  His elbows are on the table. He rubs both hands through his hair. “Where is she?” he asks.

  “I said I’ll tell you but not yet.” Calm down first.

  “The guy you hog-tied insists he was protecting you.”

  “Hardly likely. He broke in. He had a knife.”

  “You think he’s a killer.”

  “Yes.”

  “Both Flora Berringer and Allison Thomasia were murdered with a geologist’s hammer, not a switchblade. The killer didn’t use a knife on his victims. The guy you assaulted is in trouble for breaking and entering and carrying, but not for murdering a woman in a cemetery. Not for stashing bones in an armoire.”

  Could Matt be right? Caroline isn’t sure. But Jerome, not exactly a harmless guy, is off the street. “I wouldn’t discount him, if I were you,” she says.

  “Where is she?”

  “At the banquet hall. She has my cell phone.”

  She gives him the number and he punches it in. “No answer.”

  “The phone was running low on power.”

  They are out in a front entry room of the police station when another cop pulls Matt aside. Whispers. She hears only one word. Berringer.

  “I’ll have someone take you home,” Matt says to her. “I’ll let you know if we need anything else from you.”

  He has dismissed her, distracted.

  The detective stops at a window an
d says clearly, so Caroline doesn’t miss a word. “Locate a car in central Phoenix,” he says to the dispatcher. “Have the squad pick up Gretchen Birch and bring her here.” He gives the location of the banquet hall before disappearing down the hall.

  Chapter 49

  Gretchen was rigid with shock. She stared at the rock collection. It had to be John Swilling’s collection. What was it doing in Mr. B.’s apartment? Was her landlord really Richard Berringer? No wonder the man had been so eager to donate space for their luncheon. The club members had been thrilled. They wouldn’t have considered turning down his offer. How devious!

  She glanced out the window to the street below. A car pulled up on the side of the building and Julie Wicker got out of the driver’s side.

  A little late for their meeting, but Gretchen would forgive the woman for not showing up earlier. She needed her help and was relieved to see her alive and well.

  She raised the blind. The window rolled open easily. Gretchen called out to her. “Am I glad to see you!”

  Julie looked up, startled. “What are you doing up there?”

  “It’s a long story. I have to get out of here immediately. Do you have a phone?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ll be right down.”

  “Are you alone?”

  “No, I mean, yes, but if I don’t come out in the next two minutes, call the police. Wait. Call them anyway.”

  Julie said something else, but Gretchen couldn’t hear because she was already at the bedroom door, then at the apartment door, then creeping quickly down the steps straining her ears for any sound of movement below.

  She thought she heard something. Before letting herself out, she peeked cautiously into the break room. Andy sat on the floor, moaning and holding his head.

  What if he had a concussion? “An ambulance will be on the way soon,” she said. He nodded weakly.

  She had to get medical attention for him.

  The warm sunny day shocked Gretchen after so much time spent indoors in low lighting. She blinked like a mole.

  “What in the world is going on?” Julie asked.