Dolly Departed - By Deb Baker Page 0,75

April announced. "I can't see in."

"Boost Nina up," Gretchen called before scooting to the opposite side of the huddle. She didn't want to see what was going to happen next. Right before she turned her back, she saw April plant her solid legs and lace her fingers together.

"Hold the dogs," Nina said behind her.

"How can I hold them and boost you?"

"How can I go up with them? Put the leashes around your wrist, like that. Ready?"

"Ryan was doing drugs," Gretchen said to the tenants, a statement rather than a question. "But you still wanted to help him?"

"He dried out while he was here," one with dreadlocks said. "No alcohol, no drugs, but he slipped back. We hoped it was temporary."

"Don't talk to her," Shirt Guy said.

"She's a friend of Ryan's. How's he doing anyway?"

"He's alive," Gretchen said. "But barely. And he's hallucinating."

"He was doing good, and then all of a sudden, he was all screwed up. Nobody could talk to him. Everything that came out of his mouth was total garbage."

Gretchen tapped a piece of paper trash on the ground with her foot, thinking. "He talked about a goddess."

"We got that shtick, too. He claimed some fairy chick visited his bedroom at night."

"We never saw her."

"That's cuz she didn't exist."

"Duh."

"He said she flew in the window."

"He said a lot of dumb things. When was the last time you saw a fairy flying?"

"When was the last time you saw a fairy standing around?"

Gretchen heard a commotion behind her, then a shriek, then a thud. She tried to block it out. "Bad news, man,"

Shirt Man said, referring to Ryan. Or so Gretchen thought. Shirt Man was facing the kitchen investigators. She hoped the comment wasn't about Nina and April.

"Watch where you're falling," April wailed. "You could have killed Enrico."

"You dropped me," Nina screamed.

"I released you. There's a difference."

"Can you intervene for us?" the bald one asked Gretchen.

"We really are running a rehab program."

Gretchen believed him. He and the other occupants were as much on the fringes of society as the homeless people she knew. But druggies? When she looked into their eyes, they were clean and bright, without the hopeless, empty gaze associated with drug addicts. They didn't have that hunted, haunted fear she'd seen in Ryan's eyes or the wasted away, thin bodies.

Nina stomped past carrying Tutu. April heaved off from the side of the house and made for the car with the other two miniature dogs.

"We're going to the hospital to see how Ryan's doing,"

Gretchen said to the bald one.

"Say hi. We hope he makes it."

Gretchen hustled after April. She peeked in the entrance to the house as she passed but didn't see the two detectives. Why was she even checking? She didn't care. Nope. Not one teeny, tiny bit.

* 33 *

"Ryan did it," April insisted, pounding a plump fist on the dashboard to stress her point. "He killed his mother. I don't care about wallpaper. We're getting too wrapped up in kitchens. Forget the room box. He's the one."

"His kitchen was the most disgusting thing I've ever seen," Nina said, darting through traffic. She had recovered quickly from her graceless fall. "Crud everywhere. Men shouldn't be allowed to live in large groups. They're pigs. I can't even imagine how awful the bathroom would be."

She shivered for effect.

"All I saw was your rear end," April said. "And then that lizard darted across the wall right next to us. He stopped and stared me right in the eye. Sorry I dropped you."

"Forgiven," Nina chirped. Their friendship had come a long way. A few weeks ago, Nina would have held a grudge against April much, much longer. This one was over within minutes.

The safest thing to do was to get them back on task before one of them had a chance to say the wrong thing and start another disagreement.

"The ICU staff wouldn't give me any details about Ryan's condition," Gretchen said. "They gave me the patient privacy protection speech. All they'll say is that he's on that hospital floor."

April shook her head. "You'll never get inside."

"We'll never get inside," Nina corrected her. "We are a t-e-a-m."

Gretchen visualized all three of them and the dogs attempting to sneak into the hospital. The Three Stooges, that's what they would be. They could stuff the canines inside their purses, even Tutu, who was a bit large for a handbag. She chuckled in spite of herself.

"How are we going to get into Intensive Care, boss lady?" April asked from her usual position of authority in