Joel Goldman - Chasing The Dead

“Can’t be helped. It’s either me or the cops.”

Gladys tugged at her hair. “Ah, hell! She’ll go with me, so you’ll have to take both of us, but we ain’t goin’ to no goddamn police station.”

“Where else would we go?”

“You got a house, don’t you? Child could use a bath.”

Alex smiled. “Sure. That’ll work.”

They went back into the cave. Charlotte had knocked over the stack of milk crates and was sitting on one of them, hugging a black dress. Alex stepped toward her, but Charlotte retreated, swiveling around on the crate, giving her back to Alex.

“Gladys, where did she-where did you-get that dress?”

Gladys spit in the fire, cocking her head at Charlotte. “She brung it.”

“When?”

“What difference does it make?”

“A lot, maybe. Charlotte’s mother was wearing a black dress the night she was murdered.”

Gladys cocked her head, her rheumy eyes fluttering. “I wouldn’t know nothing about that.”

“I’m not saying you do, but that dress could help us find whoever murdered Charlotte’s mother and aunt.”

Gladys circled the fire, muttering.

“Okay, goddamn it. I mind my own business and see what it gets me! That child showed up in my tent last week with that dress, and when I heard about the body they found in the creek, well, I ain’t stupid.”

“The killer probably stripped the body in the woods and while he was dumping it in the creek, Charlotte must have taken the dress. Which means she could have seen her mother die.”

“Way I figured it.”

A wave of dizziness came over Alex. She pressed a hand against the cave wall to steady herself, the other hand to her forehead.

“What’s the matter with you? You look feverish.”

Alex couldn’t think of a reason not to tell Gladys the truth.

“Somebody stabbed me last night.”

“And people say being homeless is dangerous.” Gladys put her hand on Alex’s cheek. “You’re burning up.”

Alex turned away from her. “I’ll be okay.”

“Not if you keep bleeding like that.”

“What?” Alex reached behind her, feeling her back. Some of her stitches had given way and she was oozing blood.

“You better see a doctor.”

“I’ve got one waiting for me when we get home.”

“Well, ain’t you the lucky one. She know you’re gallivantin’ around?”

“No. She’s called me half a dozen times today and I told her that I was watching television.”

“Well, if she’s waitin’ for you at home, that story ain’t gonna get you too far, but it might be fun to watch you give it a try.” Gladys reached out to Charlotte. “Let’s go, child.”

Holding on to the dress, Charlotte took her hand.

Alex pulled into their garage just as Bonnie drove in behind her. Bonnie’s expression morphed from stony-eyed anger to wide-eyed worry when she saw Alex, pale and dripping with sweat, swaying as she stood in the garage, holding on to the car door.

“Holy crap, Alex!”

Bonnie rushed to her, throwing Alex’s arm across her back, using her shoulder to support her, doing a double take when Gladys took Alex’s other side and recoiling at Gladys’s odor.

“Who are you?”

“Gladys Knight. The Pips got lost on the way over. The little girl is Charlotte.”

Bonnie swung her head around. “What little girl?”

“That one.” Gladys pointed to Charlotte, who was standing in the corner of the garage, drawing air circles with her spatula.

“I can explain,” Alex said.

“Not until I stop the bleeding,” Bonnie answered.

While Bonnie cleaned and stitched her wounds, Alex told her about Judge Steele and Robin and about Bethany, Charlotte, and Gladys and the black dress.

“Put that dress in a plastic bag. I’ve got to preserve some kind of chain of evidence for it. And put it where Charlotte can’t find it. By the way, she’s autistic. She doesn’t talk and you can’t touch her, but she loves her spatula.”

“Noted.”

“I need to call Detective Harris and tell him that I found Charlotte.”

“Fine, but if you get out of that bed before tomorrow morning for any reason except to pee or poop, I’m going strap you down.”

“Promise me you’ll use the fake-fur straps you got at Erotic City.”

Bonnie grinned. “What am I going to do with you?”

Alex smiled. “Love me.”

“I might as well. Hate for the toys to go to waste. I’ll check on Gladys and Charlotte.”

Alex left Harris a message when he didn’t answer, then sank into her pillow and fell asleep.

Charlotte took a bath and Bonnie put her clothes in the washing machine, giving Charlotte a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt left over from when her niece visited a year ago, not objecting when Charlotte took her spatula into the tub.

After a lengthy argument with Gladys that ended when Bonnie promised to let Gladys pick a clean outfit from her closet, Gladys agreed to take a shower. Bonnie didn’t bother to wash Gladys’s clothes, burying them in the bottom of the barrel of trash that would be picked up the next day. Quincy followed her into the garage, sniffing and whining at the barrel until Bonnie made him come back in the house.

Satisfied that a semblance of order had been restored, Bonnie poured herself a glass of wine and settled into her easy chair, Quincy curled up beside her. The doorbell rang before she could take her first sip. Quincy raced her to the door, barking, sticking his head out as soon as Bonnie opened it, not recognizing the middle-aged blond woman who had rung the bell.

“Hello. I’m Sonia Steele. May I come in?”

It took a moment for Bonnie to register her name, making the connection to what Alex had told her, wondering why Sonia was standing on her doorstep instead of trying to get her husband out of jail. Not knowing what to say to someone whose spouse is an accused murderer, she decided to act like she didn’t know.

“Of course, of course. Forgive me. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

Sonia walked through the entry hall, glancing in every room until she found the kitchen. Bonnie hurried to catch up.

“You must be Bonnie.”

“Yes. I’m sorry, but do we know each other?”

Sonia smiled. “No. Alex is a friend of mine. I was hoping to talk with her. Is she home?”

Alex hadn’t described Sonia as a friend and Bonnie didn’t like the way she’d swept into the house, both of which made her uneasy.

“She’s asleep. I’ll tell her you stopped by. I’m sure she’ll call you tomorrow.”

“It’s important. I’d rather not wait until then.”

Bonnie stiffened. “I’m sorry, but she’s not feeling well.”

Sonia drew a gun from her purse. “That’s the least of her troubles.”

Alex stirred, hearing Quincy bark, murmuring.

“Shut up, dog.”

She smiled when Quincy quieted.

“Good doggie.”

A moment later, Gladys opened the bedroom door. “Pssst. You got company.”

Alex propped herself up on her elbow, rubbing her eyes. Gladys, her hair wet and pulled back in a bun, was wearing a pair of Bonnie’s Juicy Couture velour pants, a Free People pullover Alex had given Bonnie for Christmas, and a pair of Alex’s boots.

“What on earth are you doing wearing Bonnie’s clothes and my shoes?”

“That doctor of yours drives a hard bargain.”

Alex sat up in bed. “I can only imagine. What did you say about having company?”

“There’s a woman in the kitchen with the doc.”

“Who?”

Gladys put her hands on her hips. “Like I’m supposed to know.”

“Then why did you wake me?”

“On account of your dog.”

“Don’t worry. He’s harmless.”