Dolled Up for Murder - By Deb Baker Page 0,71
ability to solve the burglary.”
“That could be true.” Nina placed two bowls on the floor and watched Wobbles jump onto the counter to eat his.
“Cats on the countertop are disgusting,” she said, making a face.
“Wobbles knows he can only go on this section,” Gretchen said, gesturing to the countertop farthest from the food preparation area. “Right here on the corner.”
“Anyway, you should work on your own psychic abilities.”
“If you’re so good, why haven’t you solved Martha’s murder and found my mother?”
“It doesn’t work like that.” Nina watched Tutu lick every last crumb from her bowl. “Sometimes I have a clear mental image of fragments of the past or future, but mostly I analyze my feelings through auras. An image of Martha’s murderer won’t pop into my head, but I might see an evil aura emanating from the killer if I encounter him.”
“And have you seen any malevolent auras lately?” Gretchen picked up the canine’s bowls and soaped them in the sink. Wobbles jumped to the ground, challenging the two dogs to rush him. They kept their distance, although Nimrod wagged his short tail ferociously.
“To tell you the truth, my energy connection seems to be on the fritz lately,” Nina said. “To make it work I have to clear my mind and concentrate, and there’s too much turmoil right now to see through the haze. That hanging doll, for example.” Nina shivered visibly. “I don’t have to be a psychic to read that message.”
“I agree,” Gretchen said. “Steve’s going to be away from Boston for a few days, and it doesn’t make sense for me to go home now. I can’t leave you here alone with some psychopath running loose.”
She hoped Nina wouldn’t pursue a discussion of Steve. She wasn’t anxious to share her confused feelings with her aunt. Her emotions were too close to the surface, and she needed time to think about what she wanted to do next.
Nina was too delighted when she learned of Gretchen’s change of plans to follow up with any comments about Steve. “Let’s get started then. The key, obviously, is important. Important enough to risk breaking and entering.”
“But the thief wants us to know he’s angry.”
“Or she,” Nina said. “I still think we need to watch April more carefully. My aura might be off, but every time I’m around her, I get mixed signals and a confusing blend of colors.”
“And how about Bonnie?” Gretchen said. “She was lying about the Rescue Mission.”
Nina held up her copy of Martha’s hidden key. “Let’s start with April and Bonnie and see if this fits in either one of their door locks.”
A flash of lightning struck nearby, and Nimrod’s ears flattened to his head. His tiny poodle body shook violently, and Gretchen picked him up. “It’s storming outside. Can’t we wait until it passes?”
“During monsoon season in Phoenix?” Nina said. “It’ll continue to storm at least until midnight. Besides, we can use the rain and darkness as cover.”
“Great. Just what I want to do. Stand in the rain.”
“Slink around in the rain,” Nina corrected her, ignoring the sarcasm. “We are going to slink like an Arizona rattlesnake.”
They drove toward Tempe, taking one detour after another to escape entrapment in flooded washes. On the left side of the road, coyotes appeared in the Impala’s headlights, gaunt, running loosely in a pack, eyes red and glaring. Their heads swung in unison to look at the car, but they continued moving on through the spears of rain.
The windshield wipers slapped against the window in high gear. Occasionally, Nina pulled over to the side of the road until visibility returned. At times, all they could see ahead of them were taillights and streams of water rushing down the windshield.
April’s modest home came into view through the descending gloom. Nina parked across the street and killed the lights, and Gretchen saw April’s car parked in the carport. Through the rapidly fogging windshield of the Impala they watched an undulating glow behind April’s front curtain.
“She’s watching television in the dark,” Nina said, rubbing her palm in a circle on the driver’s window to clear her view. “This isn’t going to be as easy as I thought.”
Gretchen clutched the key. “Only one of us needs to go,” she said, watching April’s window for movement.
“You can,” Nina said, looking away.
“Who’s idea was this in the first place?”
Rain hammered on the roof of the car, reminding Gretchen of one Boston hailstorm so intense that it pounded circular dents into the hood of Steve’s Porche.
“I have an umbrella,”