"You'll be the first one I think of," Gretchen said. How lucky could she get? Meeting one of Phoenix's most eligible bachelors. The inside of Ronny's trailer smelled like a melange of dirty socks and rotting garbage. Considering that only forty-eight hours had elapsed since Ronny's death, Gretchen had to assume that the offensive odors weren't the consequence of his absence but native to his habitat.
Feature articles from Phoenix Exposed had been ripped from the newspaper and taped on kitchen cabinets and the refrigerator, like displays of children's artwork. The infamous article denouncing Nina as the leader of the alien dog world hung from a cabinet door directly in front of Gretchen.
She ripped it down, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it into a heap of folded paper bags in the corner. Ronny could have opened his own grocery store with the number of bags he collected.
The bathroom seemed the simplest place to start and the least likely to produce any worthwhile information. Hemorrhoid treatment, hair pomade, and a messy assortment of uncapped toothpastes and shampoo bottles.
As Nina would say, "Zilch."
Gretchen had started on the living room when her cell phone rang.
"Hey," Nina said on the other end. "What's your plan for today?"
Gretchen picked up a pile of porno magazines from a marred coffee table and dropped them on the floor in disgust. "You're up early."
"I have coffee in my hand and the world at my fingertips. I wanted to catch you before you started working away in your little beehive. Want to have lunch and discuss today's plans?"
"I don't know. I'm pretty busy right now," Gretchen said, looking at unidentifiable goo on Ronny's coffee table and wishing she'd brought latex gloves. Rule number three: wear gloves, for a variety of reasons. Gloves protect against the mismanagement of fingerprints as well as against diseases.
"What are you doing today? Restringing all those dolls from the show?"
"That, and a few other things."
"Well, call me if you break free."
Gretchen wished to break free all right, from this sorry excuse for human existence. The stench alone made her want to burst from the trailer and fill her lungs with fresh air. Instead, she methodically finished searching the living room and tiny kitchen.
Next, the bedroom.
Gretchen was beginning to doubt Aunt Gertie's ability to make sound investigative decisions. This was fast becoming a really bad idea. Cavemen lurking outside and germ warfare inside.
The bedroom was indescribably dirty and the source of most of the odor. Ronny, it appeared, liked to eat in bed and use the floor as his landfill for leftovers. She tiptoed through the unidentifiable waste to the closet and flipped the light switch next to it.
Aha. Ronny's office. File boxes were stacked on the floor, three deep. Papers were strewn across the tops of the boxes, and Gretchen stared at the mess with dismay. No way could she wade through that much paper in the time she had.
What would her aunt Gertie do?
She keyed in Gertie's home number and crossed her fingers. Please be home. Gertie answered on the third ring.
"Good job," Gertie said when she heard about the closet. "Keep this up, and there's a job waiting for you here in the beautiful Upper Peninsula. I could use a smart investigator like you."
Snow nine months of the year, summer bugs the size of radishes, and wild bears in the backyard. No thanks. That was one job Gretchen didn't intend on applying for.
"You should come and visit me sometime," Gretchen said, remembering her manners.
"Not in this lifetime, Honey. Too hot and too many weird critters. Scorpions, black widows." Aunt Gertie clicked her tongue. "Don't think so."
"Back to my problem," Gretchen said, encouraged to refocus when she looked out the grimy bedroom window and saw the friendly neighbor walk past, not two feet from the side of Ronny's trailer.
"Yes, well, you're looking at his filing system. That's where stuff goes when he's through working on it. Find his current files."
"But where? This place is a dump."
"You just have no experience with men, especially eccentric, single men."
"You got that right. But what does that have to do with finding files?"
"His current files are in one of three places. Either under the bed…"
Gretchen grimaced. Anything and everything could be under Ronny's bed.
"… on top of the refrigerator, or in the bathroom."
"I already checked the bathroom."
"Most men like something to read while they're going about their morning business. The bathroom would have been my best guess. Since you started there, you and I must be nuts right off the same tree."
Aunt Gertie probably had that nut thing right. Gretchen thanked her and hung up as the community manager walked back again the way he'd come, his eyes riveted on Ronny's trailer.
She quickly crouched beside the bed.
That's where she found his working papers, just as Aunt Gertie predicted.
And the top manila folder had Percy O'Connor's name scribbled across it in large, red letters.
24
"I can't believe you went on a spy mission without me,"
Nina whined from a stool at her kitchen counter while popping liver treats to the dogs. "Someone must have put you up to it." Her eyes narrowed in dawning comprehension.
"Gertie! You've been asking that Gertie Johnson for advice. She's nothing but trouble, and you know it."
"She's also my aunt, and she has her own investigation business. Why wouldn't I consult her?"
"I know all about Gertie's so-called 'business.' Your mother talked me into going with her to Michigan once. Gertie has a ratty old pickup truck with Trouble Busters handwritten on the side of it, and she lives in a town with a total of twelve residents."
"That's an exaggeration." Gretchen said. She helped herself to a cup of coffee and a chocolate croissant. She bit into the pastry. Pure heaven. "Besides, if I remember correctly, you liked the idea a few days ago."
"That was when I thought I was included in the mission." Nina's jealousy settled into a pout.
"I didn't want you along with me this morning. What if I had been caught? I'd need someone on the outside to bail me out of jail."
"I hadn't thought of that."
Tutu, Nimrod, and Sophie skidded by in a whirl of flying playfulness. Toenails clicked across the tiled floor. Nina jumped up and let them out into the gated backyard. When she came back, she eyed the folder on the counter.
"Have you looked inside yet?" she asked.
"Nope. I was waiting for you." Gretchen licked chocolate from her fingers. "Let's get started." She opened the folder and found scraps of paper with scribbled notes tossed in haphazardly. She picked up the top sheet.
"It looks like an early draft for one of his stupid articles,"
Nina observed. "You can't trust anything that goof wrote."
"Shhh, I'm reading." Gretchen skimmed over numerous misspellings and red-lined markings. The article was in the early stages of development and didn't flow in a coherent manner. Not that much about Ronny had been coherent anyway.
She handed the paper to Nina and scanned another.
"Tell me, tell me," Nina said, not bothering to look at it.
"Read it yourself." Gretchen slid the second sheet toward her.
"The pages are all marked up, and parts are crossed out. Just tell me."
"Okay, according to Ronny's notes-and we'll reserve judgment based on the source-Percy O'Connor's father, William, was a profiteer during World War Two."
Nina frowned. "A profiteer, like Rhett Butler?"
"You're thinking of the Civil War, Nina. But I suppose the fictional Rhett Butler was a profiteer, since he was a blockade runner and his motives weren't always honorable. But William O'Connor was a black marketeer during the Second World War. Remember your history? Remember rationing? People couldn't get basic supplies like gasoline and sugar."