Deb Baker - Dolly Departed

"Good work, partner," Gretchen said. "Another elimination."

"Check that Maize kid's house," April advised. "I'm sure he did it."

"The drug house is next on our list of kitchen stops,"

Nina said.

"Ryan Maize didn't kill his mother," Gretchen insisted.

"He's the most obvious suspect," April said from the front seat. "He was stoned out of his mind on drugs, he's violent-I saw him hit you-he threw a Mali-something cocktail and almost blew us up."

Gretchen scooted to the middle of the backseat and leaned forward. "If you had evidence that your son had killed your sister, would you make a room box and accuse him at an unveiling with a room filled with complete strangers? What kind of mother would expose her child that way?"

April humphed. "What kind of kid would kill his mother or his aunt?"

"Exactly!"

"Let's check him out anyway," Nina said diplomatically.

"We should rule him out together. A unanimous decision, since we are a t-e-a-m."

"Go team," April said. "I could hardly drink the coffee after our discussion of Arsenic Anna and rat poison."

"Britt and I are becoming close friends," Nina said. "I shouldn't even be suspecting her."

"The coffee was fine," Gretchen said. "It came out of one carafe."

"That was smart thinking," April said.

"There's so much to learn about detecting," Nina said.

"Live and learn," April said.

"I think you mean," Gretchen said, "learn and live."

They should have saved the mission to Ryan's house for another day. "Look at the commotion," April said.

"Keep going right past," Gretchen said to Nina from the backseat. From now on, she was going to drive herself. She felt trapped in her aunt's car.

A police officer tried impatiently to wave them past when Nina slowed down. "I said, keep going," Gretchen repeated, raising her voice. Matt Albright's unmarked blue car was parked at the curb. She saw Detective Brandon Kline standing on the broken-down porch talking to a cop. Brandon turned and shouted something to the officer near their car. The cop gave way, and motioned them to pull over.

Nina followed his direction. Gretchen moaned.

"The cops are searching Ryan's pad," April said, breaking into her version of street talk. "Look at all those strungout crackheads." She pointed to a pathetic group of five huddled at the corner of the house. They were in varying degrees of undress. Only one wore a shirt, all were barefoot, and if the others hadn't been bare-chested, Gretchen wouldn't have been able to figure out which were males. The one wearing the shirt was still an unknown as far as sexual persuasion went.

Gretchen slunk down in the backseat and crawled onto her stomach. The dogs, always ready for a ripping good time, used her as a runway. Tiny, sharp claws raked her back as they ran back and forth.

"What are you doing?" Nina said with more than a hint of disbelief in her tone.

"Hiding."

"I can see that. But from whom?"

"I vowed never to have anything to do with that womanizer again. If you had driven by when I asked you to, I wouldn't be flat on the seat with little nails piercing my skin. I'll be able to wear studs in the holes by the time they're done with me."

Okay. Gretchen was pretty sure she was acting immature. That's precisely what the detective did to her and why she was avoiding him. When was the last time she hid out in a car? She remembered exactly when-fourteen years ago-her sophomore year in high school, right before Eddie Bremen caught her with another guy. She'd tried to break it off, but he wouldn't take no for an answer, so she had ducked down to protect her date. It hadn't worked. Eddie Bremen had really clobbered her date. Slinking was justified that time, and it was justified this time. Hopefully, she'd have better luck than last time.

"What brings the pleasure of your company?" she heard Matt say right next to the car door. "And why is Gretchen hiding in the backseat?"

April giggled.

Gretchen shot up. "I wasn't hiding. I was looking for my. . uh. . contact. It jumped out of my eye."

She didn't even wear contacts, but he couldn't possibly know that.

"I'll help you." Matt opened the back door and carefully edged in, his eyes on her instead of on the floor. "I lose mine every once in awhile. It's a real pain."

"I found it!" Gretchen exclaimed, pretending to cup the lens between her hands. "Give me some room, and I'll plunk it back in. You have more important things to do."

Brandon Kline came up behind them. "We haven't found a thing. Not so much as a roach clip or dope pipe. The place is squeaky clean."

Matt shook his head. "Impossible."

"They insist this is a rehab house. Junior over there. ."

He pointed at the ragged group, "claims he's the sponsor."

"Let's make him prove ownership," Matt said.

Brandon's gaze settled on Nina. He smiled.

Nina batted her eyes. "I should do a reading for you as soon as you wrap up this case," she said. Gretchen would have to teach Nina the finer points of conversing with the opposite sex. I should do a reading? What an awful pickup line.

"I'd like that," he said, sounding like he meant it. Nina eyed up his back end as he moved through the police officers, barking orders. Matt winked at Gretchen.

She ignored him, glancing at the so-called homeowner and the pink stucco house. What if it was true? What if the house really was used for drug rehabilitation and not drug deals? "Ryan's bizarre behavior could have been completely due to the epinephrine," she said, thinking out loud.

"He certainly was full of the stuff," Matt said. "Heavy usage for at least a week, maybe longer, according to the physicians. He's lucky to still be alive. He must have a death wish."

"Did they find any other drugs in his system?" Gretchen asked, trying to overlook her personal issues with the detective. Act grown-up. Drop the inner pout and move on.

"That was the surprising thing," Matt said. "Not a trace of any street drugs."

"What does he say to explain his condition?"

"He's disoriented and lethargic. Says a goddess was serving him, according to the medical staff. I don't know when, if ever, he'll be lucid enough to give answers that make sense. His physician hasn't cleared him for questioning yet."

He looked over at the house. "I better get back inside."

"We want to look at the kitchen," Nina said. "We're studying crimes and the effects on kitchens."

April giggled, which was all she seemed to be able to do when she was too close to Matt. Did Gretchen act that dopey around him? She hoped not.

"You can look through the window from the outside of the house," Matt answered, wearing a look of amused confusion. "But stay away from the tenants. By the way, Gretchen, you don't wear contacts."

"Busted," April said. "What tipped you off?"

Gretchen wished April would go back to giggling. So what if he caught her lying? Gretchen leveled Matt with a steely glare just in case he thought his approval mattered to her.

"A true contact wearer," he said, "holds a contact like this." He pressed his fingers together. "We don't cup them in our palms. And the terminology isn't 'plunk' it in. It's

'pop' it in. They don't jump out of our eyes, either." He grinned. "But I still like you, even if you aren't one of us."

"I'm a contact wearer," April giggled.

Gretchen marched behind him toward the house with Nina and April taking up the rear and, oh no, all the dogs.

"Potty stop," Nina said when Gretchen scowled at her. "As good a place as any." Nina glanced at the trash in the weedy yard. "I won't have to clean up any doggie do. It'll blend right in." Nimrod and Tutu trotted with Nina. Enrico ran alongside his new owner, with his lip pulled up on one side to show his back teeth. He had a nasty gleam in his beady little eyes.