lips.
'What happened to your face?'
'Wrong place at the wrong time. It's nothing to you.'
'I heard a cop did it.'
'You heard wrong.' He stared at her defiantly. Gretchen knew he wouldn't talk to her because she wasn't from the street, she wasn't one of his kind. Or perhaps Nacho had shared his anger at Gretchen and the reason why. Albert might blame her for his abuse at the hands of the Phoenix police.
'I'm sorry about what happened to you,' she said. 'If I am in any way to blame-'
'You're not.' He cut her off. 'It's got nothing to do with you. You go home and stay out of trouble.'
'You saw the man at the auction, the one who was pushed? Tell me who did it.'
'Go home,' he said roughly. 'And watch out.' His face softened. 'You remind me of my sister.'
'Your sister?'
'Same hair, same lots of things. She moved away. Maybe you know her. Susan Thoreau-well, its Mertz now that she's married.'
Gretchen shook her head.
'Hey Thoreau,' someone called out, and a man came up and high-fived Albert. 'What's happenin' man?'
'Coppin' a little friendly comfort.' Albert held up the Bert's Liquor bag. 'This here is one of Daisy's friends.'
He gestured toward Gretchen. 'Meet BJ.'
Gretchen reached out to grasp the offered hand, a hand coated with grime. She forced herself not to flinch. He was a two-handed shaker, working his left hand over the top of their clutched right hands.
After giving her an appreciative stare, BJ broke the shake and popped Albert lightly in the chest. 'See ya later.' He looked at Gretchen. 'Don't follow this guy's lead when you cross the street. He's color-blind, ya know. He'll have ya crossing against the light cuz he can't tell red from green.'
'Catch ya,' Albert said, and he limped away, crossing in the middle of the street and heading back the way he came. BJ beelined for the liquor store.
Gretchen watched Albert go. How could these people live like this? Scrounging for basics like food and shelter, living for their next cheap bottles of booze, rejecting offers of assistance. Gretchen couldn't imagine what their lives must be like in July when temperatures remained in the triple digits, day and night.
Not all were alcoholics, but most of those Gretchen met were. Many who remained on the street for any length of time had psychological issues. Like Daisy. Sweet and harmless but unbalanced and unwilling to accept treatment. Maybe living in the make-believe world Daisy had created was easier than facing reality. Gretchen felt as if she could use a little escape from it herself right about now.
How did Albert escape from the reality of his life? The booze, of course.
With one hand on the car door, a thought struck her. Color-blind?
Did BJ say Albert was color-blind?
Gretchen started running down the street. Nimrod let out a yip, and she slowed slightly, readjusting him against her side.
She ran two blocks and stopped at a corner, looking both ways. There he was. She could see him up ahead. The man walked fast for someone with a bad leg who was going nowhere.
Getting closer, she called out his name, and he turned and waited for her to catch up.
She stopped in front of him, her breath fast and ragged, more from the discovery than the physical exercise. 'You're color-blind?' she said.
'A little.'
'What's a little?' Gretchen wanted to know. 'You're either color-blind or you aren't, right?'
'Okay, I'm color-blind, but it's no big deal. I forget about it all the time.'
'So… do you confuse all the colors?'
Albert shrugged. 'What's this about?'
'I'm curious. For example, if I see blue, what color do you see?'
'What is this, some kind of test?' Albert frowned at her.
'Humor me, okay? What color would you see?'
'Daisy tells me I see purple.'
'What color would be blue?'
'What?'
Gretchen wasn't communicating well. She knew it.
'You see blue, I see…'
She waited.
'I see blue,' Albert said. 'You see green.'
Gretchen stared at him. According to Nacho, Albert had seen someone get out of a blue truck and push Brett into the street.
But Albert hadn't seen a blue truck. He'd seen a green one.
37
A green truck.
Gretchen had watched Howie get into a blue truck and drive off after the auction, after Brett had been killed. Albert had seen a man get out of a truck that, it turns out, was actually green.
Gretchen blanched.
The cop at her house. Her neighbor said the police officer who had been at her home, looking for her, was driving a green truck.
A cop had beaten Albert, and, judging by Albert's physical condition, the attacker meant business. Why would she be a target? She didn't have the Ginny dolls, and she didn't know anything significant about hidden treasures or murder victims. Wait a minute.
She knew plenty.
Was someone really after her?
Far-fetched, Gretchen reminded herself as she picked up her cell phone.
She still had Chiggy's broken Kewpie dolls in her trunk. To her, they weren't worth two bucks, but they were the only things that connected her to whatever was going on. She had to ditch the dolls as fast as possible and get out of this circle of murdering thieves.
Howie Howard's answering machine turned on after the sixth unanswered ring.
'It's Tuesday at five o'clock,' Gretchen informed the recording. 'When I spoke to you last, you offered to take the box of Kewpie dolls and find the owner. I assume that offer still stands. If anyone's been inquiring about them, please let them know that I'll be returning them to you tonight at Brett's memorial service. Getting the box of Ginny dolls back is no longer important to me.' She stressed the next sentence. '
Gretchen hung up, threw the cell phone on the passenger seat, and headed home. She had a few hours before the service, an event she was dreading but knew she had to attend. As the broad side of Camelback Mountain came into view, her mother called.
'What's new?' Caroline said, unsuspecting in her cheerfulness.
'Not much,' Gretchen said, keeping her eye out for a green truck.
What had she gotten herself into?
'I need you to look at something,' Gretchen said, when Janice Schmidt opened her front door. 'It's in my workshop.'
'I'm making dinner right now,' Janice said. 'I'd be happy to come over afterward.'
'It's kind of important,' Gretchen insisted.
