“Any event that includes a Chihuahua in a tutu is weird.”
“You saw that guy at the grocery store?”
“Yeah. I recognized the tattoo but I couldn’t think where I'd seen it.”
“Did he act suspicious at the store? Could he be involved in Bob’s disappearance, do you think?” She pulled onto the street, heading back towards Bob’s house.
“I only saw him for a few seconds in the produce aisle. Unless he’d been picking out that lettuce for at least half an hour, I don’t see how he could even have been in the store when Bob was there.”
“It just seems like a huge coincidence,” she insisted.
I nodded. “I know, but on the other hand the Food Right is the only big grocery store on this end of town.”
“True. Did you believe them, about not knowing who Trixie is?”
“I have no idea.” I thought about it. “The place is small enough that you’d think they would know their clientele, but Trixie may not be a regular. For all we know she was only in the place once. Or maybe she’s never been there. Maybe Bob stopped in and picked up the matches and met Trixie somewhere else.”
“Has Bob ever suggested taking you to a bar?”
I shook my head. “No. And I've only seen him drink a glass of wine with dinner. I don’t think he’s the bar type.”
“Trixie might not even be her name. I mean, who’s named Trixie?”
“We just don’t have any information to go on, other than the name, false or not, and phone number,” I complained.
She nodded. “True.” She drove in silence for a block, then sighed. “I suppose it would have been too easy to find Trixie at the bar and have her tell us what’s going on.”
“I know, but it would have been nice.”
“Hey, get my phone out of my purse and call her number again.”
I fished around in her bag and found the tiny instrument. It flipped open easily enough, but required some surreptitious poking at its buttons to get a dial tone. I was embarrassed to let her see how little I had used one of these devices. I finally punched in the number that by now I had memorized.
“Still busy,” I reported.
She scowled. “Dammit, how can anyone talk that long? She must be the original motormouth.”
We passed the parking lot where last night I'd watched a woman in red take Bob to a gray Mercedes and drive away.
“This is where it all started,” I commented, and Kay glanced over at the store.
“Right. Hey, that’s the store with the weird music. Maybe they were just fleeing from that.”
Remembering what I'd heard when I went inside to look for Bob last night, I said, “That’s the most plausible thing we’ve come up with yet.”
She reached over and patted my leg. “Look, maybe we’ll get lucky and he’ll be home by now, and we can find out what’s going on,” she said.
“Are you sure it's okay just to drive up to his house? What if that guy is still ransacking my car?”
“Louisa, he was through with the ransacking when he headed for the house. And why would he hang around after you got away? It’ll be fine. We’ll just go see if Bob’s come back, and pick up your car and—”
Since passing the Food Right we’d been following the route I'd taken earlier that morning. As we neared the turnoff to Bob’s house I saw something by the other side of the road. “Oh my god!” I grabbed Kay’s arm. “Don’t stop, keep going. Do not turn into Bob’s driveway!”
The car rocked as she pulled out of my grasp. Kay looked around wildly but kept driving. “What? What?”
“The Mercedes! The gray Mercedes! It’s parked off the road back there!”
Chapter Fifteen
Kay looked over her shoulder, making the car swerve. “What! Where?”
“Watch the road.” I poked her in the ribs. She slapped at my hand but returned to driving mode.
“I can turn around up here,” she said. No other cars were in sight. She did a three point turn, and drove slowly back. “Where’s this car?”
“It’s pulled off the road by those bushes.”
“How do you know it's the same one?” she asked. “Must be a zillion gray Mercedes around.” She pulled off the road onto the shoulder a few yards beyond the Mercedes.
“Of this vintage? Don’t you think that’s pushing coincidence a little far?” I retorted. “Last night one carries Bob off to god knows where, and today one just like it is hidden near his house. You figure the odds.”
“It’s not really hidden, it's just inconspicuously parked,” she hedged.
I snorted. “Pretty inconspicuous. You didn’t notice it.”
“Let’s go check it out.” Jack slithered into her abandoned seat when she got out. “You stay in the car, Jack, honey,” she said. “We’ll be right back.”
A graveled shoulder and a drainage ditch bordered the road, and a few feet away barbed wire fencing kept whatever might be lurking off the road. A pickup truck traveling about eighty miles an hour thundered past us, flinging a piece of rock that hit me in the knee. I yelped, but Kay didn’t notice. She looked in the passenger-side window of the Mercedes and tried the door.
“Locked,” she muttered. “Try the driver’s door.”
“It's locked too,” I reported.
“Damn. I should have learned something practical like how to pick a car lock instead of all that art history. Look, there’s a map on the passenger seat.”
Nothing else of interest could be seen in the car. It had nice leather upholstery that precisely matched the gray exterior, and the steering wheel was wrapped in what looked like red suede. I walked around and peered in at the map. “It looks like a local map,” I said, and Kay nodded.
“Which could mean that your woman in red has never been to Bob’s house before, assuming that this is indeed her car,” she said.
“Look out, Nancy Drew,” I commented. My knee hurt where the rock had hit it. I leaned over to rub the sore spot.
She walked all the way around the Mercedes and paused to inspect the license plate. “Hmmm, I wonder if this is a rental plate.”
“Right, probably, I know I always rent a car when I'm planning to kidnap someone.” She raised her chin at me but I went on. “Anyway, aren’t rental cars always compact Fords? And aren’t they always white? Where would you rent a car this old?”
“It is perfectly possible to rent a Mercedes,” she said haughtily.
“It's awfully clean,” I said. “Cleaner than yours. Maybe it spent the night in a garage somewhere.”
“Thank you, Ms. Sherlock.” Abruptly she turned away from the Mercedes and headed back toward her own car. As she did, a battered old Volkswagen bug slowed down.
“You ladies need any help?” called the driver, who appeared to be about nineteen, with blazing red hair standing up in a ring around his extravagantly freckled face.
Kay gave him a wave and a big grin. “No, thanks. We’re just fine, but you are so sweet to ask.” He waved back and gunned his engine, grinding gears. By the time I limped back to Kay’s car the Volkswagen was out of sight. Jack was still on the driver’s seat. “You planning on taking over the driving?” Kay asked him. His tail whipped. “You’re not old enough for a license. Hop in back, that’s a good boy.” He obeyed, and we got in. Kay checked for traffic and put the gear shift into first.
“Wait a minute,” I said. “You’re not going back to Bob’s driveway, are you?”
“Well, yeah.” Her tone was impatient.
“No! We have no idea if that woman came here alone or with Bob, or if she has someone else with her. I mean, she’s probably in cahoots with that guy—”
“Cahoots?” She raised an eyebrow at me.
“—and she may have used a weapon to make Bob go with her. And I still think the guy searching my car had a gun. We could get shot. Or they might shoot Bob. Maybe now is when we should call the police.”
“Not till we see if anyone is at Bob’s house. Okay, we’ll go through the woods.”
I couldn’t suppress a groan. She gave me a look. “Okay, okay, you’re right,” I said, holding up my hands in surrender. “I'm the one who doesn’t want to drive up to the house. Go about a mile and make a right.”