'And how am I supposed to find out?' Nina said curtly. Gretchen could hear April say something in the background. Then while Gretchen walked briskly down another hallway, Nina filled April in. Gretchen hoped no one would stop her if she looked as if she knew where she was headed. Nina came back on the line. 'April says she'll call and pretend she's with UPS and has a package that requires a room number.'
'Whatever works. I'll call back in a few minutes.'
She forced herself to wait several long and excruciating minutes before calling back, all the while striding down one corridor after another. When she did call Nina back, she learned the room number.
Gretchen had been noting room numbers on the doors as she turned another corner. Not only was she inside, but she was moving in the right direction.
Aunt Gertie would be so proud.
At first, Chiggy Kent thought she was one of her caregivers. Gretchen figured the bottled air running from the tank to her nostrils wasn't doing the job it should. The lack of proper oxygenation was affecting her mind. Then she realized that Chiggy had a vision problem.
Blind as the proverbial bat.
'It's Gretchen Birch,' she said, identifying herself. 'Caroline Birch's daughter. We met two months ago at Bonnie's house during one of the Phoenix Dollers Club meetings.
'Oh, yes. I remember.' Chiggy sat up straighter in a chair next to her bed.
'It wasn't easy getting in to see you. We were worried that there was a conspiracy going on to keep you secluded.' She laughed lightly.
'I specifically said no visitors,' Chiggy said, annoyed.
'I thought I was firm about my requirements when I moved here.' She brushed back a few gray strands of hair falling on her face, and Gretchen thought that, at one time, she must have been a beautiful woman. Nicotine and excessive Arizona suntanning had taken a toll. 'No matter. I'll take it up with the staff later. You're here now.'
Chiggy spoke slowly, pausing to wheeze and allow the extra oxygen to kick in.
'I have a few questions about your dolls.' Gretchen took a seat beside her and glanced around. The room was stark, containing only the essentials, exactly like a hospital room.
'Do you mind talking about your dolls?' Gretchen prompted.
'Ah.' Chiggy forced a weak smile. 'You were at the auction?'
'I was, along with half of Phoenix. I thought your dolls moved well. There was quite a turnout.' Gretchen didn't mention Brett's death. If Chiggy didn't know about it, Gretchen didn't want to be the one to tell her.
'I had admired your handmade Kewpies,' Gretchen lied. 'But they were sold before I got there.'
Chiggy looked surprised. 'Really?' she said.
'April Lehman said she appraised your collection for you before you planned to auction them off, and she didn't remember any Kewpie dolls.'
'That's right.'
'But some were sold at the auction.'
'I thought they were some of my poorest work.' Chiggy shook her head. 'I couldn't get the reproductions right, so I didn't include them with the dolls I decided to have appraised. Basically, I wanted April to tell me which dolls I should keep and which I should sell. In the end, I kept very few. You liked the Kewpies?'
'Very much. I was hoping you had more.'
Chiggy shook her head. 'That was the last of them.'
'I also received several Kewpie dolls in the mail. Did you send them, or do you know who might have?'
'No. I hardly know you. Why would I send you anything? And I don't own a single Kewpie anymore.'
Gretchen watched Chiggy's impaired eyes carefully and saw something…
Chiggy slid further down in her chair, appearing weak and helpless.
How could her condition have deteriorated so quickly?
According to Howie Howard, Chiggy was supervising her own move from her home less than a week ago. What had happened to make her suddenly infirm? A stroke?
'How are you doing?' Gretchen asked. 'I hear you just moved from the assisted living section over to this area.'
Chiggy waved a dismissive hand. 'I'm fine. I like the security better here; we have the guard at the gate and a locked door. But look how easy it was for you to get in. That disturbs me.' She squinted at Gretchen, appraising her integrity. 'You seem like a nice person.'
Chiggy held up an object that looked like a remote control, which had been buried in the folds of her dressing gown. 'But if I press this button, I'll have someone in this room in thirty seconds flat. I didn't get that level of care in the apartment. Want to see how it works?'
'No thanks. I believe you.'
Gretchen recalled the letter found among Ronny's papers, the one addressed to Florence. Don't double-cross me, it had said, or you'll become prey for a hungry predator. Had Chiggy ignored the warning? After the recent deaths, was Chiggy next on the killer's list? Did she know it? That would explain her preoccupation with heightened security.
She wasn't isolated because of any administrative rules. She was hiding.
'I bid on a box of your Ginny dolls at the action and-'
Gretchen stopped when she saw the expression of shock and disbelief on the old woman's face.
'Impossible,' Chiggy managed to croak. 'That box wasn't supposed to be sold. I gave strict instructions on the handling of my Ginny dolls. That box should be in storage along with several other personal belongings that I chose to keep. Where is it? Tell me.' Chiggy was rising from the chair, her face turning red from lack of air. 'What are you after? Why did you come here?'
'I… I don't have it. It seems that the boxes were mixed up somehow, and I ended up, accidentally, with the Kewpie dolls. I'm looking for the person who bid on the Kewpies. I think he has the Ginnys. His name is Duanne Wilson.'
Chiggy hesitated, her face frozen in a horrific grimace. It crossed Gretchen's mind that she might be out of oxygen. She quickly looked down at her feet to be sure she wasn't standing on the connecting tube. Maybe the machine that was Chiggy's lifeline had run dry, and she was strangling to death from lack of air.
But the horror on her face contradicted that theory. No one would have the energy for that kind of fear if they were running out of oxygen.
'What's wrong?' Gretchen moved closer to the woman.
'Get away from me. Tell him to leave me alone.'
Chiggy screamed at the top of her wasted lungs. A canister of pepper spray appeared in her left hand. She stopped screaming abruptly, gasped for air, and screamed again.
Then she jammed her right thumb down on the security button and let loose with the pepper spray.
35
Gretchen scrambled for cover before the troops arrived, grateful that Chiggy's poor eyesight had resulted in a direct miss. She burst through a fire exit door and ran as though her life depended on it. Hearing the alarm wailing behind her, she cleared the senior center grounds and sprinted to the curb where she'd left the getaway car.
She whirled and looked down the street in both directions. The car was gone.
Worse, Detective Albright sat in a blue unmarked police car in the exact spot where her Toyota Echo should be.
'Where is my car?' Gretchen demanded, hands on hips, when he climbed out of his car. 'Did you have it towed away?' She was breathing hard. 'And where are Nina and April?'
She saw a gleam of amusement in his eyes, a hint of Chrome cologne infusing the air, his smile as dazzling as ever.
