Nina stared at Gretchen, waiting for her response. Whatever she decided, she knew Nina would back her up. But Gretchen didn't know for certain whether Steve had taken the knife from the workshop, and she suddenly felt uncharacteristically protective of her former boyfriend. Gretchen couldn't share her suspicions with anyone, especially not with Matt, a cop. At least, not yet. Gretchen met Nina's gaze silently.
"I better get back," Matt said.
He strode away.
11
Nina rammed through the Impala's gears. "I really don't know why you insist on getting involved in Daisy's life,"
she said. "She's perfectly happy where she is."
Gretchen didn't know how anyone could be content to roam the Phoenix streets without a place to sleep or a guaranteed meal.
"I'm not convinced of that," Gretchen said. "This is a good time to check on her, since we have a few extra hours. And maybe she knows something about Ronny that will be helpful. The street people seem to be connected to the city's pulse."
She gazed out the window. "Like Native American drum signals. I don't know how they do it."
Daisy, a homeless drama queen, and her alcoholic friend, Nacho, had entered Gretchen's life right after she'd arrived in Phoenix, and she felt a special fondness for them, even though their refusal to accept her offers of assistance frustrated her beyond words. Traffic on Central Avenue edged slowly forward, the perpetual gridlock an inescapable fact of life in Phoenix. For once, Gretchen didn't mind. It gave her an opportunity to think about Ronny's death and Steve's connection to her knife.
"Why didn't you tell Matt that you think the knife belongs to you?" Nina asked from the driver's seat of her red Impala.
"I don't know. I'd like to wait a little longer. I just have a bad feeling about the whole thing."
"That's my girl. Your inherited psychic gifts are finally kicking in."
"Because I have a bad feeling about a murder, and my repair tool was used as a weapon?"
"Exactly." Nina punched the horn and slammed on the brakes when the car ahead of her stopped abruptly. "My nerves are shot," she said. "I think it's a combination of the heat and Ronny's murder."
"You should have let me drive."
"You're always lost. I'll take care of the driving. You pay attention to where we're going and start orienting yourself to Phoenix's streets. I've never known anyone with such a poor sense of direction."
"I haven't gotten lost for a long time."
"Right. Sure."
"There she is." Gretchen pointed. "Pull over."
Nina edged to the curb and idled in a no parking zone.
"Make it quick," she said, adjusting the bows in her hair. "I don't want a ticket."
As soon as the car stopped, all three dogs began prancing in the backseat, running into each other and yipping. Gobs of canine goo streaked the back windows. Nimrod and Tutu recognized Daisy immediately, and their chorus resounded at a nerve-racking level.
Daisy sat alone on a wooden bench wearing a baggy purple dress and a red baseball cap, and weeping into a corner of the dress.
"What's wrong, Daisy?" Gretchen said, getting out of the car and sitting down beside her.
"Oh, hey." Daisy looked up and sniffed, trying to compose herself. "I'm okay."
"Your bedroom is still waiting for you, whenever you feel like stopping by."
"Thanks, Gretchen, but it's hard to get noticed by talent scouts way up there by the mountain. I need to be on the streets. Visible. Besides, I have everything I need right here with me."
She motioned to a shopping cart wedged between the bench and an electrical pole. It was packed with old clothes and other miscellaneous items Daisy had found in her wanderings.
"Any luck with the acting yet?" Gretchen slung her arms across the back of the bench. She saw Nina scowl at her from the car.
"Soon," Daisy said, sniffling. "I just need my first big break. Then it's Hollywood, here I come."
Gretchen wished she had paid more attention in her college psych classes. Daisy talked incessantly of her future as a movie star. There must be a clinical name for it. Not that a label mattered. The woman would never agree to psychological testing or medication.
"You know, I promised to look out for you," Gretchen said. After Daisy almost died in a car accident, Gretchen had made a vow to herself that she planned on fulfilling, with or without Daisy's cooperation.
"I know you did." Daisy's eyes were red and rimmed with tears.
"You're not making it easy."
"Don't worry about me. Worry about Nacho," Daisy said, beginning to sob again.
"What's going on?" Gretchen felt a tightness in her chest, and she sat up straighter.
"They did a sweep again. I can't find him."
"Oh, no."
Daisy shook her head sorrowfully. "They came in a van,"
she said, "and rounded us up as we came out of the soup kitchen. I ducked back inside, but Nacho wasn't quick enough."
Angry, Gretchen looked down the street as though she might spot the van. "How long ago?"
Daisy shrugged helplessly and looked off into the distance. "I don't know. Awhile."
Nina blew the horn.
"Come with us," Gretchen said, rising from the bench.
"We'll help you look for him."
"I can't leave my stuff behind."
Gretchen eyed the mounded shopping cart. "It won't fit in the car," she said.
Daisy looked up and down the street, then she called out, and two women left a bench farther down and started over.
"We're neighbors," Daisy said. "They'll watch my things."
"Hey, doggies." Daisy slid into the backseat, and the canines pounced on her with a volley of delighted squeals. Gretchen saw Nina scrunch her nose at the new odors permeating the Impala. Nina rolled down her window a few inches.
"Nacho's been relocated again," Gretchen informed Nina.
"Isn't that illegal?" Nina asked. "To take Nacho against his will and drop him off someplace else?"
"I suppose," Daisy said. "But what's he going to do about it? Sue?"
"They probably didn't take him far," Nina said. "Last time, wasn't he dumped in Mesa?"
"And he found his way back," Gretchen said to reassure Daisy. "He'll be back this time, too."
Nina nodded. "He could be anywhere, but he's resourceful."
She shot into traffic and wove expertly between lanes.
"You're right," Daisy said. "He'll come back. He wouldn't leave me by myself for long."
"You know," Gretchen said, changing the subject. "Ronny Beam was murdered a few hours ago."
"I heard," Daisy said.
"How did you find out already? It just happened."
"It's all over the street. Nobody liked Ronny much."
"That's an understatement if I ever heard one," Nina muttered.
"Last January he came to our campsite," Daisy said.
"He said he wanted to see how we make it through the winter. Like Phoenix winters ever get that cold. He was really obnoxious. He had cheap wine in a paper bag and tried to panhandle from an undercover cop. Everybody was relieved when they arrested him and carted him away."
"Dumb as a brick," Nina said.
Daisy had all three dogs on her lap. Her newest fan, Sophie, rode in the crook of her arm. "Who killed him?" she asked.
Nina shrugged, her eyes on the road. "Could have been anyone who ever met the creep."
"Could be you," Daisy said. "You really didn't like him."
"Oh, my." Nina slowed down and glanced in the backseat at Daisy. "I had a fight with him yesterday in front of all kinds of witnesses."
"It was quite a fight," Gretchen said to Daisy. "She hit him with her pepper spray."
"What do you think, Gretchen? Am I a suspect?"