Ding Dong Dead (18 page)

“Who is the current beneficiary of the trust?” Caroline asked.

“I hold ownership of the trust for the benefit of the trust’s beneficiaries,” the attorney said. “I located a distant relative who resided outside of the state. Before I could make contact, I discovered that the next in line was actually living right here in Phoenix.”

Gretchen paged through the document while McNalty was speaking. “Trudy Fernwich.”

“Yes.”

“Where does she live? How can we reach her?”

“That is your problem.”

No address was listed on the document. “Let’s go,” she said to her mother, dropping the file on his desk.

Within minutes, they were out the door and on their way.

“Will he call the police?” Caroline asked.

“I don’t think so,” Gretchen said, hoping she was right. “All he lost was a little professional dignity. And it’s his word against ours.”

They had come for information, and they left with what they came for. Neither was sure what to do with it.

They knew the name of the distant cousin who was the newest beneficiary of the trust that owned the Spanish Revival house that the club was converting into a museum.

But they had never heard of her.

Nacho has heard the man’s sob story and isn’t at all moved by it. They’d spent the night inside a shed, down a dead-end alley. He isn’t about to show a stranger into the home he’s created under the viaduct. He built it himself out of plastic and duct tape. Gray to match the girders. Only his real friends know about his place, and he’s keeping it that way.

He’s not dumb.

This Andy has money in his pocket but doesn’t have a bit of street smarts, waving the roll of bills around like he wants somebody to take it away from him. If Nacho hangs with this guy too long, he’ll worry about his own future health.

What he’ll do for his friends. And Caroline is one of the best.

Andy bought him a nice bottle, a token of his gratitude, and that counts for a lot. You don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

Nacho’s getting married to the love of his life and has promised Daisy that he will dry out. Soon. He’ll do it soon. She’s promised to help him beat his demons, and he’ll do anything for her. Right now though, he’s drunk on gold-label whiskey. Johnnie Walker. Eighteen-year-old blended to be exact. He knows his liquor.

Andy’s a talker, which suits Nacho. He’s observing instead of participating, which is his style. Sit back, stay alert, absorb. All night, he tipped back, wetting his lips, savoring the amber liquid, watching it swirl like the gold it’s named after.

Otherwise he would have been bored out of his skull, having to listen to how this guy’s wife had left him and he’d been trying to get her back. How they came to Phoenix thinking the trip away from LA would be good for them, and how it wasn’t.

How she had told him right before she was killed that it wasn’t going to work after all.

Andy was just as drunk as Nacho, even more, slurring his words, nodding off, waking up, and continuing his boohoo story.

They all had it rough. Why should this guy’s problems be any worse? All kinds of people have wandered through Nacho’s life. Every one of them thinks they are worse off than the next guy. Like it’s a big competition and being the biggest loser is some kind of win.

This blurry Saturday morning, his guest is sleeping off one big-mama hangover, while Nacho is out and about, still drunk but searching for someone.

The word’s out to the other street people, along with a description of the person he wants to find: a skinny doper who works for anybody who’ll hire him, no name, as in NoName. That’s what they call him. Has a red pentagram tattoo on his neck, the five-pointed star inverted to point down, surrounded by a black circle.

This particular person doesn’t mean anything to Nacho, but Daisy has put in a request. Gretchen and Caroline are in need of assistance. Anything he can do, he will.

Time to find the guy who shouldn’t have been in the cemetery the night of the murder.

Gretchen looked out the window of This Great Coffee Place at the same moment that April banged her white Lincoln’s bumper into a parking meter directly in front of the coffee shop. Nina jumped out of the passenger seat and said something to April. Judging from the expression on her face, she wasn’t very happy with her new partner’s driving skills.

At the first sign of real trouble, Bonnie had abandoned them for a weekend in Glendale with a different group of friends. Julie went off to Tucson.
Turn up the heat
, Gretchen thought,
and you find out quickly who can take it and who will abandon you for a more temperate climate.

“Unbelievable,” Caroline said when a traffic cop came into sight in time to witness April’s destruction of city property. He didn’t look pleased as he listened to April, who appeared to be arguing with him.

Nina pushed past April and was addressing the police officer.

“I’m only thankful,” Gretchen said, ducking back from the window, “that I can’t hear what Nina is saying to the cop.”

“She’ll get April out of it.”

“Calamity Jane has an extensive driving record with the motor vehicle department. Springing her is going to be tough. April’s an accident waiting to happen. Why is Nina riding with her? I thought we had agreed that we’d live longer if we didn’t let her drive.”

“Nina stayed with Brandon last night.”

“I know.”

“He decided to surprise her by tuning up her car today. She said he had it ripped apart before she woke up. By then it was too late to stop him. She griped plenty when we couldn’t come and get her.”

April wore a yellow pantsuit, accessorized with an orange ribbon headband tied around her head, its long showy ends trailing down her back. Nina had on a tiger-striped wrap dress and gold heels.

Gretchen rose from the table and chuckled. “I’m not sure if we should split those two up when we start canvassing or stay as far away from the peacocks as possible. I didn’t think to tell them to play this low-key.”

“I can’t partner with Nina,” Caroline said. “We’ll disagree on everything and end up mad at each other.”

“I’ll take her. You and April work one side of the block, we’ll do the other. Let’s go.”

Nina had finished convincing the officer that April didn’t deserve a citation. Gretchen saw him walk away without writing anything.

But her aunt wasn’t finished complaining to April. They arrived outside in time to hear April tell Nina to “buzz off.”

The four of them walked down the street, two of them stomping a little more angrily than the others. They passed the banquet hall and went another two blocks where they turned the corner and stopped in front of World of Dolls.

Caroline spoke first. “If I didn’t know differently,” she said, “I’d think it’s just another work day at the museum.”

“It looks exactly the same,” April agreed.

Nina was staring up at the second-floor windows.

“Looking for your ghost?” Gretchen said.

“She’s watching,” Nina said, not taking her eyes off the house. “I know she is.”

“By the way,” Gretchen said, only that moment remembering all the tiny responsibilities, “where are the dogs? Day care?”

Nina gave up on window gazing. “Doggy day care is closed on the weekend. I didn’t have a choice.”

“They’re at your house?” Gretchen could only wish. Fat chance of that.

“No. Yours,” Nina answered. “They’re keeping company with Wobbles.”

Gretchen and Caroline groaned in duet.

The dogs were wonderfully well behaved, if Gretchen didn’t count Tutu, until they got together. Then their primitive pack mentality got the better of them. The last time they were left unsupervised, the canines had run wild; the house looked like a war zone by the time Gretchen got home.

“Let’s get started,” Gretchen said since she couldn’t do anything about the dog situation. “We’re going to canvass the neighborhood. With any luck, we’ll find someone who has lived in this area for a long time, long enough to know the Swilling’s family history and give us some background.”

Caroline handed each of them a notebook. “Jot down the addresses you visit and the results. We don’t want to waste time by repeating the same houses later. Make notes if you discover anything that could be relevant.”

The women teamed up under Gretchen’s direction. She watched her mother and April knock at their first house before she crossed to the other side of the street with Nina.

Six homes later, after four unanswered knocks and two occupied by owners too recent to be helpful, Nina started complaining about her feet, then about the task at hand. Gretchen glanced at her aunt’s gold heels but didn’t say anything.

“Phoenix, in case you haven’t noticed,” her aunt said grumpily, “is a transient city. Everyone living in the Valley of the Sun is from someplace else these days. We’re wasting our time on a wild-goose chase.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“I could be spending the day with Brandon.”

“Under the hood of your car? That sounds like a good time.”

“You have a point.”

Nina remained on the sidewalk holding her shoes and wiggling her bare feet while Gretchen knocked on house number seven. Again, there was no response.

From what Gretchen could tell, Caroline and April were having more luck getting doors to open but the same rate of failure finding longtime residents. April called over. “Nothing yet,” she said. “We’re turning the corner up ahead.”

“Whose big idea was this anyway?” Nina wanted to know after putting her heels back on.

Gretchen couldn’t tell Nina that she’d talked to her aunt Gertie. Something about her other aunt’s name brought out the very worst in Nina. And she was crabby already. “We have to at least try,” she said. “We’ll finish what we started by circling the block.”

“Wait,” Nina screeched. “Don’t tell me.” Her eyes became narrow, knowing slits. “You’ve been taking advice from that woman again?”

Nina’s intuition was sharpening, but Gretchen wished she would use it for a higher purpose than arguing with her. Why couldn’t she use it to identify the killer?

“Aunt Gertie made a few suggestions,” Gretchen said. “They seem reasonable.”

“There isn’t anything reasonable about her. She’s dangerous. Practically everyone around her gets shot to death.”

Gretchen couldn’t help letting out a small chortle. Nina was close to the mark. Aunt Gertie didn’t always think before she acted, sometimes creating more problems than she started with. But she always solved her cases. For her, the end justified the means. “You’re exaggerating, Nina,” she said.

They stood in front of a house set slightly farther back from the street than the other homes. Gretchen thought it had an unoccupied look to it. Not exactly that its exterior hadn’t been maintained, though it appeared neglected when compared to the others. She walked past it.

“Where are you going?” Nina asked from the sidewalk that led to the house. “What’s wrong with this one?”

“No one lives here.” Gretchen stopped and turned around.

“Really,” Nina said.

“I don’t think so, but I suppose we should make sure.”

Nina had another “incoming message” expression on her face when Gretchen passed her and started up the walkway. “Someone’s inside,” her aunt informed her.

Gretchen was on the porch about to ring the doorbell.

“Don’t!” Nina shouted. “I have a bad feeling!”

What was the matter with Nina? At this rate, they’d be on this block for the rest of the day. Gretchen pressed the button and heard the chime inside the house. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked her aunt.

Before Nina could reply, the door creaked open.

A large woman loomed in the doorway, staring at Gretchen.

“I’m searching for information on a neighborhood family,” Gretchen said.

“Come in,” she said. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

—From
World of Dolls
by Caroline Birch

 

 

 

Terry Vascar and Matt Albright watch the start of the excavation while the noon sun beats down on their unprotected heads. Standing beside them is John Meyer, a forensic anthropologist, and Frances Castillo, medical examiner, professionals considered the best in their respective fields. They are also good friends, having shared more than a few drinks over discussions concerning unusual cases.

Terry swipes at a trickle of sweat running along the side of his face.

He feels adrenaline shooting through his veins and a growing impatience with the time it has taken to arrange the equipment and workers. Matt looks as frustrated as he is.

All worth it.

He fervently hopes.

Ground-penetrating radar, aka GPR, has detected an object under the surface of the Swilling’s family plot. That in itself isn’t notable, considering that this is a cemetery, after all. What makes this discovery unique, though, is that this object is near the foot of a buried coffin. It should be a patch of desert dirt through and through. No record exists inside the cemetery office of anything beneath this piece of ground. In fact, no records are available for this entire section of the cemetery.