Deb Baker - Dolly Departed

Well, she had.

Yes, she had.

Britt's eyes try to penetrate the window. If only she could hear what is being said in the shop, and if only she had a clearer view. What do they hope to accomplish by putting a silly display back together?

The one with the pretty gray hair is familiar, she's been around before. Her name is Caroline Birch, another of Charlie's friends. She must be Gretchen's mother. Her friendship with Charlie wasn't nearly as close as the relationship Britt had with Charlie. Britt feels such physical pain at her loss.

She thinks of Ryan Maize, Charlie's drug-addicted, pathetic excuse for a son. Ryan is somewhere in the city of Phoenix, panhandling with other homeless, empty-eyed derelicts. Poor Charlie. She had actually tried to help the ingrate. How many rehabilitation centers before she finally gave up? How much money down the drain?

Britt stares at Gretchen's car. What luck that she has a few sharp sculpting tools in her purse. She glances at the bookstore where Melany is roaming the shelves, delving into possible purchases. She'll be a while longer. Britt steps into the street, using the shadows for cover.

From the sidewalk in front of Mini Maize, Gretchen watched the Scottsdale squad car pull to the curb. After a long workday, the others had gone their separate ways. One went north, another south, finishing the day as they had started, as polar opposites.

Caroline had waited around until Gretchen shooed her off. Her mother had enough on her mind without dealing with Gretchen's problems as well.

They never suspected that she had managed to lock herself out of her car. At least it hadn't been running. She'd done that once, too.

It was a good thing she had a little extra puppy food in a plastic container in her purse, or Nimrod would be complaining loudly and insistently by now. Come to think of it, she had a little of everything in her purse. Except the proper tools to break into her car.

Gretchen could imagine her aunt's reaction if she knew about the lockout, especially with Nina in such a snit. She would have had to listen to a long lecture about the condition of her workshop, and her purse, and who knew what else. Officer Kline stepped out of the police vehicle with a long rod in his hand. "Not you again," he said, wryly. "Tomorrow, when I transfer out, the department will have to hire another full-time officer to deal with you."

He had a twinkle in his eye. What a ham.

"Rumor has it you're impersonating a traffic cop," she said with a smile.

"Never trust a Phoenix detective. He'll expose you every time."

"How did you know Matt told me?"

"Albright is like my Siamese twin. I can't get rid of him no matter what I do. We're attached at the brain."

"Ah, two with the mental capacity of one."

"Do you want help, or should I leave you standing on the curb?"

Gretchen moved aside.

He inserted the long metal tool through the top of the driver's side window. The lock popped open. "There you go," he said.

"Thank you so much. I'm embarrassed."

"Don't be. It happens all the time. It was your karma for the day. Couldn't be changed." He stepped back and took a good look at the car. "Look at that."

Gretchen followed his gaze. The tire was flat. He pushed on it. "Not much air left. You must have driven over something, a piece of glass or a nail."

Gretchen scanned the street for the Wife. It was exactly the kind of thing Kayla Albright was capable of. The woman had been stalking her since the moment Gretchen had met Matt. She'd been relatively harmless, until now. This was getting much more serious.

"Can you tell if my tire has been tampered with?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Hard to say. Maybe an auto mechanic would know."

"Now what?"

"Now you wait for the service truck, which I'm going to call for you."

"Can't you change it for me?"

"Puh-leeze," he said. "What you citizens expect."

Gretchen stared at the tire, then out at the street. She saw Matt Albright trot across Scottsdale Road midblock and step onto the curb, his dark hair wind-tossed, his face handsome and tanned but taut. Edgy.

Then he spotted her and smiled. "What's going on?" he said, approaching.

"Do you know how to change a tire?" Gretchen asked, pointing at the flat.

"Hey, Kline," Matt called out to the Scottsdale detective, who was digging in the squad's trunk. "I'll handle it from here."

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into."

"She's that bad, huh?"

"You know it." The Scottsdale detective hopped into the police vehicle and drove off.

Matt leaned up against her car and crossed his arms. The tension she had seen on his face when he crossed the street was gone. He smiled at her.

"I hate to spoil your day," Gretchen said. "But your wife punctured my tire."

His smile slid sideways. "Are you sure?"

"Not exactly. I mean, I didn't see her do it, but who else would do something so vicious?"

"You're awfully suspicious, considering she hasn't done anything to you up until now."

"Stalking me doesn't count?"

"She followed you a few times, I threatened to lock her up, she said she wouldn't bother you again."

"I can see the warning was effective," Gretchen said, pointing again at the tire.

"You probably drove over a nail." He bent over the tire to examine it. "I tell you what. I'll change it for you. Do you have a spare?"

Gretchen nodded, opening the trunk.

"And I'll buy a new one to replace the flat. How's that?"

"You're agreeable tonight."

"I hate to admit it, but it looks like someone did slash your tire. See here." He ran his fingers along the tire. Gretchen bent down. Sure enough, there was a long slit in the rubber.

"We can't be sure Kayla did it." A sparkly smile as he stood up, his dark eyes locking onto hers. He was only a few inches taller than Gretchen's five eight. Just the way she liked a man. "But I'll buy you dinner, too," he said, "as compensation." He reached to give Nimrod a pat on the head. "We'll drop Nimrod at your house first."

"He still knows his 'hide' command." The detective was standing way too close.

"Is that a yes?" Matt moved to the trunk and pulled out the spare tire.

"It's a maybe. I'm worried about the rest of my property. I wouldn't want my house to burn down while we were dining unaware."

"I thought you had nerves of steel. What happened?

Don't you like a little excitement in your life?"

"You'll have to assume responsibility for her actions."

"I always have. Is that a yes?"

"Um. ." Gretchen grinned. "Entice me some more."

She watched him jack up the back of the car, muscles rippling, not an ounce of fat anywhere.

"I have information about Charlie. I'd like your take on it."

He knew just how to reel her in. She pretended to waver.

"Okay," she said, ignoring the sensible, barely audible little voice that was trying to remind her that he was still married, and his wife was certifiably nuts.

"What are you looking for?" Matt said, after watching her dig through her purse.

"My sunglasses. I don't remember where I left them."

"They're on your head."

Gretchen lifted a hand to the top of her head. Sure enough, there they were. She pulled the glasses down over her eyes, then realized the sun had almost set. Matt Albright could really rattle her cage.

"Okay," Gretchen said, over after-dinner coffee beside her swimming pool. "I've waited long enough."

Caroline walked past the patio door and peeked out, giving Gretchen a thumbs-up. Gretchen pretended not to notice.

"I didn't want to spoil dinner by talking shop," Matt said.

"Understandable. I've already promised to keep anything you say confidential, so tell me."