Gertrude, Gumshoe Cozy Mystery Series Box Set: Books 1, 2, and 3
Gertrude, Gumshoe Cozy Mystery Series
Books 1—3
Introducing Gertrude, Gumshoe
Gertrude, Gumshoe: Murder at Goodwill
Gertrude, Gumshoe and the VardSale Villain
ROBIN MERRILL
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Book 1
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
Book 2
A Note from the Author
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
Book 3
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
Other Books by Robin Merrill
New Creation Publishing
Madison, Maine
INTRODUCING GERTRUDE, GUMSHOE. Copyright © 2016 by Robin Merrill. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover by Taste & See Design
Library of Congress Control Number: 2016911223
Book 1
1
No matter how many times she counted her cats, Gertrude still kept coming up one short. But she wasn’t quite sure which kitty was missing exactly. It’s hard to count cats in an over-stuffed mobile home, especially when they won’t hold still.
After several failed attempts, Gertrude realized that all she had to do was write down the cats’ names as she spotted them. She grabbed some scrap paper out of one of her scrap paper bins. First on the roll call was Sunshine, who was napping atop a pile of linens, which were on top of a box of lightbulbs, which was on top of two twin size mattresses leaning against the wall. Next was Rain. Gertrude caught him strolling down one of the narrow paths carved out between stacks of her belongings and knelt to give him a soothing neck scratch. She wrote his name down, and then grunted as she stood up to head toward the bedroom, which was where Blizzard liked to hang out.
In this manner, eventually, Gertrude deduced that Tornado was the missing cat.
She wove all over her trailer calling his name. But there was no Tornado. “He must’ve gotten out somehow,” she said to Hail, who seemed to agree. At least, he didn’t argue. So Gertrude put on a sweatshirt—it was September, so not quite jacket weather in Maine yet—and then she and her walker headed out into the trailer park.
Gertrude lived in trailer number three. Her park consisted of twelve trailers, located on either side of a narrow drive. Each end of the one-way road spilled out onto Route 150 in the small town of Mattawooptock.
Gertrude started at the trailer to her right. She knew its residents weren’t home right now, which was good, as she wasn’t really in the mood for human contact. She bent over and looked under the trailer as she called Tornado’s name. Then she walked around the trailer, looking for any signs of a wayward feline. She found none, so she moved on to the next trailer. She knew that Old Man Crow—that’s what the neighborhood kids called him—was home. He was always home, and she could hear his television. She thought about knocking on the door and actually asking him if he’d seen Tornado, but he was an ornery old coot, and she didn’t want to deal with it. Old Man Crow was all fancy and had skirt panels around the bottom of his trailer, so Gertrude couldn’t see underneath. He also had curtains, so she couldn’t see inside. She moved on.
She reasoned that the next trailer would be empty too. Its new residents had moved in a few months ago. Gertrude had seen a woman and two kids and had assumed the woman was a single mother. She looked under the trailer and called to Tornado. Then she took a stroll around trailer number nine, alternately calling and listening. As she came around to the front again, she thought she heard a meow. She froze and held her breath. There it was again. She bent over and looked under the trailer again. Nothing. She stood. And waited. And there it was. The cry for help was muffled, but she knew that voice anywhere. It was Tornado. And it sounded like he was inside the trailer.
Gertrude took three steps closer to the door. “Tornado?”
Nothing.
She took another step closer. “Tornado?”
She waited. Still nothing.
She climbed the steps and stood in front of the door, leaning forward so her face was only inches from the door. “Tornado? Are you in there?” She heard a squeak, and a burst of adrenaline shot through her. She pounded on the door. “Hello? Hello? Is anyone home?” Nothing. She pounded again. Nothing. She looked around the trailer park to see if anyone was watching her. She saw no one. She reached for the doorknob. It was locked. What on earth? Gertrude thought. No one locks their house in Mattawooptock. She put her lips as close to the door as they could get without actually touching the door and yelled, “Don’t worry, Tornado! I will get you out! I’m going to call the fire department again!” As Gertrude stood waiting for the cat to answer her, the door opened, and Gertrude found herself eye to eye with a little boy. A little boy who was holding her cat.
“Please don’t, ma’am,” the boy said.
“Don’t call me ma’am. I’m not old. That’s my cat.”
“OK.”
“So give him to me.” Gertrude reached out with both hands, and the boy shrank back in fear, taking the cat with him. Gertrude pushed the door open and stepped into the dark trailer. “That’s my cat.”
“OK.”
As Gertrude’s eyes adjusted to the dimness, she saw a young girl sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of a game of Uno. Gertrude’s eyes flitted around the room. It was neat as a pin. “Why aren’t you in school?”
The little boy started to cry.
“Why are you crying?”
He didn’t answer.
Gertrude looked at the girl. “Why is he crying?”
“You’re scaring him,” the girl said.
“Why? I’m not scary.”
The girl hesitated. Then, “You kind of are,” she said.
Gertrude sighed. “Look, I’m not mean. I just want my cat.”
The boy nodded, sniffed, and then held Tornado out with two ramrod-straight arms. He did not move closer to Gertrude. Tornado dangled helplessly from his little hands. Gertrude grabbed him and brought him into her ample bosom. Tornado rubbed his head on her chin and began to purr.
“Why do you have my cat?”
“Sorry,” the girl said. “He was on our steps. We didn’t know he was yours.”
“OK,” Gertrude said. “No harm done then.” She stood there for a few sec
onds, unsure of what to do. She wanted to go, but she knew something was wrong. “So, what’s going on here? Why aren’t you two in school?”
The boy started crying again.
“Stop crying!” Gertrude snapped. “I’m not even being scary anymore!”
“He’s scared because we’re all alone. Come here, Carl,” she said, and patted the floor beside her. Carl went and sat.
He looked so forlorn, Gertrude thought about giving him the cat back, but then decided against it. “What do you mean you’re all alone?” she asked.
The two kids exchanged a look.
“Oh, just tell me,” Gertrude snapped.
“Do you have any grandkids?” the girl asked.
“Grandkids?!” Gertrude cackled. “I’m not old enough for grandkids! Stop changing the subject. Where is your mother?”
The girl took a deep breath. “She hasn’t come home yet. She works nights. She leaves us here alone when she goes to work because she can’t afford a babysitter, but it’s OK because I’m eight and I watch my little brother. He’s five,” she explained.
“OK, where does she work?”
“We don’t know. She got a new job. I’m not sure where it is, but she is always home when we get up. And she takes us to school. But when we’re home alone, we’re supposed to lock the door and not answer it, because she’ll get in trouble if the cops find out we’re home alone.”
“Uh-huh,” Gertrude said. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something about this story just wasn’t sitting right with her. “Well,” she said, looking around, “I’m here now, so let’s turn some lights on.”
Gertrude flipped the kitchen light switch and set Tornado down on the counter. He instantly jumped off.
Gertrude walked around the bar and into the small kitchen. She picked up a pile of papers from the countertop and began to sift through them. “What’s your name?” she asked the girl without looking up.
“Sophia.”
“OK, Sophia, can you think of anywhere that your mother might be?”
“No.”
“Well, how about your dad?” Gertrude looked up. “Should I call him?”
“No.” Sophia’s lower lip trembled. “He didn’t want us anymore. That’s why our mother took us.”
“Hmm. OK.” Gertrude stuck several expired coupons into her pocket and then saw something helpful. A pay stub. From Private Eyes.
Private Eyes was a strip club in downtown Mattawooptock. Gertrude had never been there and had never heard anything good about the place. It seemed this was where the kids’ mother was working nights, and not for very much money apparently. The paystub was for 159 dollars. There’s a good chance she makes more than that in tips, Gertrude thought, and then felt guilty for having such a thought in front of the children.
“Tell you what,” she said, coming back around the bar toward the kids. Both kids stared at the walker. “I’ll go down to where she works and ask around.”
Sophia’s eyes lit up. “Really? Can we come?”
“No,” Gertrude said quickly. “Do you have any pictures of her?” She began to stroll around the trailer, looking for photos.
“I don’t think so,” Sophia said.
“You have zero pictures of your mother? How is that possible?”
Sophia shrugged.
“OK, well, what’s her name?”
“Lori.”
“OK. If you’ll let me use your phone, I’ll try to go find Lori. I just need to call the CAP bus.”
The CAP bus was actually a van, driven by volunteers. CAP stood for Community Action Program. People in need or those with disabilities could call the CAP bus, and it would take them to necessary destinations such as medical appointments, job interviews, and worship services. She wasn’t sure how she was going to get them to take her to the strip club, but she was going to try.
2
When the van pulled into the trailer park, Gertrude was back by her own steps waiting. She had left Tornado with the kids. They had seemed to need him more than she did at the moment.
When the van stopped, Gertrude was relieved to see that Norman was driving. Norman was a retired bus driver who volunteered to drive the CAP bus several days a week. Gertrude thought he was kind of hot, with his shaggy hair and tattoos, though he was much too old for her.
“Norman!” she exclaimed as she climbed into the middle seat of the van. “All alone today?”
“So far, yep. I had to take a few guys to the drugstore, but since then, things have been slow.”
“Well, good, ’cause I don’t want any witnesses for this.”
Norman looked at her in the rearview mirror and there might have been fear in his eyes.
“I need you to take me to the nudie bar, Norman.”
“What?!” Norman cranked around in his seat so he could look directly at Gertrude. “Why?”
“I can’t explain, but I assure you it’s for a good cause.”
“Gertrude, that’s not what the CAP bus is for. I can’t take you to a bar.”
“I’ve got two Washingtons that say you can,” she said slyly, holding out two wrinkled, filthy one-dollar bills. Norman sighed, turned around, and put the van in drive.
As they drove around the loop, Gertrude saw two little eyes peering at her from the window of trailer number nine.
“You know, it is only ten o’clock. This isn’t exactly a breakfast joint. They’re not even going to be open.”
“That’s OK.”
“It is?”
“Yep. Don’t worry. It won’t take me long. And you don’t have to come in.”
“Come in? Of course I’m not going to come in. And I’m not going to wait around outside the bar either. This job don’t pay much, but I still don’t want to get fired from it.”
“Fine then,” Gertrude said, sounding exasperated. “When I come out, I’ll just wait by the door. Just drive around the block until you see me.”
Norman laughed. “Lady, you’re nuts.” A few minutes later, Norman pulled up in front of Private Eyes. “If anyone asks, I’m going to tell them that I dropped you off at the thrift store,” he said, nodding toward the consignment shop next door.
“Yeah, right. Like I’d be caught dead shopping in that highfalutin’ place. Nothing thrifty about that joint, no there ain’t.” Gertrude slammed the van door as an exclamation point.
Norm just shook his head and drove away.
Of course, the bar was closed. Gertrude leaned on her walker with one hand and pounded on the front door with the other. No one answered. She knocked again. Still nothing. So she pounded continuously until someone answered. When the door opened, Gertrude was surprised. Her hand was also quite sore.
“Hello!” Gertrude said. “I’m looking for Lori. Have you seen her?”
“Don’t know any Lori,” the man said and tried to shut the door.
Gertrude picked up her walker and shoved one of its wheels into the opening.
The man opened the door. “Look, lady, I don’t know you. I don’t know Lori. I’m just the janitor.”
“Oh good,” Gertrude said, and pushed the door open. “I was afraid I was going to have to waste time talking to someone in charge. My name is Gertrude.”
“Andy,” a baffled Andy said.
“Nice to meet you,” Gertrude said, and pushed past him into the bar.
“Look, your friend’s not here! No one is here!” Andy spread his arms to indicate that he was the only thing to see.
“I know. I’m just looking for clues.”
“Clues? Why, what happened?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I need clues. Lori is missing.”
“Missing? Did you call the cops?”
“No, no police. I’ll find her. I just need some clues.”
“Lady, I don’t think this is such a good …”
“It smells bad in here,” she said, scrunching up her nose.
“Yeah, well, that’s why I have a job.”
“So that’s wh
ere they do it?” She pointed a stubby finger at the tiny circular stage surrounding a single pole.
“Yeah. That’s where they do it.” Andy chuckled, but it sounded reluctant. “So, um, I have to get back to work, so can you … like … go or something? I’m pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to let you in.”
“Yep. I’ll just be a minute.” She looked at the bar. Then she walked around the bar and stepped behind it. She ran a finger along the top of it as if she was testing for dust. “It’s sticky,” she said, curling her top lip.
“Yep.” Andy crossed his arms across his chest and sighed.
Gertrude bent over to look under the bar. “Is Lori a stripper?”
“What?”
She stood back up. “Is Lori a stripper?” she said slowly.
“I don’t know,” he said just as slowly. “I don’t know Lori. I don’t know anything except that I want to get you out of this bar.”
“OK, just show me where the girls put on their costumes and whatnot, and I’ll be out of here.”
Andy sighed and headed toward the back. Gertrude followed him into a narrow hallway. Several open doors led to several small, empty rooms. “What are these?”
“Uh, those are for private dances and stuff.”
“Oh,” Gertrude said and quickly moved past them. They went by another door that said Do Not Enter. “What’s in there?”
“The office.”
“Do you clean the office?”
“Nope.” Andy opened the door to a small room with gray walls. Gertrude stepped inside. There was a couch along one wall and a long counter along the other. Over the counter hung a long mirror. Various feathers and sequins were spangled on the floor. “Satisfied?” Andy said. “There’s no one here.”
Gertrude shuffled over to the mirror. The bar was littered with lotions, sprays, and various cosmetics. She shuddered when she spotted a Grace Space lipstick.
“You’re right,” she said, turning back toward the door. “I don’t see any useful clues.”
“OK then. Can you show yourself out?”
“Sure can.” Gertrude headed for the door, still examining her surroundings as she went. When she reentered the big room, she marveled at how many tables and chairs there were. She hadn’t realized Mattawooptock had that many “gentlemen.”