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Sophia opened the door before Gertrude could knock. “Did you find her?”
“Where is Tornado?”
“He’s up there,” she said, pointing to the top of the fridge.
“Oh good. No, I didn’t find her. And I didn’t find any leads yet. Maybe it is time to call the police.”
“No, don’t! Please don’t!” Sophia cried. “Our mother said that if anyone finds out we’re here alone, the cops will put us in foster care, and we’ll get split up.”
“Hmm. Well, I think that might be a slight exaggeration. All right, you guys watch television or something, and I’ll look around here for some leads.”
“We don’t have cable.”
“OK, well, then read a book.”
“Carl can’t read.”
“Then read him a book! I’m trying to think here.”
Gertrude went into the kitchen and looked around again. She spotted some unopened mail and picked it up. This probably won’t tell me anything, but it could be interesting, she thought. Most of it was junk mail, but she did find a bank statement. She opened it and quickly learned that Lori could definitely afford a babysitter. Her statement showed regular five hundred dollar deposits. She must be getting some serious tips!
“Did you find anything?” Sophia reappeared.
“Nope,” Gertrude said, shoving the statement under a brown envelope offering a fake key and promising a new car. “Now skedaddle! I’m trying to work here.”
Sophia looked hurt, but she did leave. Gertrude took the statement back out. There wasn’t much other activity. An occasional cash withdrawal and those mysterious giant deposits. Apparently, Lori didn’t use a debit card and didn’t write checks, at least not with this account. Gertrude looked around the top of the bar for other bank statements but didn’t see any. She opened some drawers and rifled through them, but most of them were nearly empty. Gertrude could hardly stand the sight. So she gave up on the kitchen and meandered through the living room, looking around and wondering how anyone could live with so little stuff, and for that matter, why anyone would live with so little stuff when they had more than ten grand in checking.
Gertrude peeked into a small bedroom the kids apparently shared. Sophia was indeed reading to Carl. Gertrude moved on down the hall, past the bathroom and into the master bedroom. She found an unmade full-size bed and piles of clothes, which she looked over for feathers and sequins, but found none.
Something caught hold of her then, alone in this stranger’s bedroom. It was like an itch she just had to scratch, a thirst she just had to quench, an irrepressible drive to figure this thing out. Suddenly, she was bitten by the mystery bug, and it had its teeth in deep.
She turned to her right and started with the first thing she saw, which was a vacuum cleaner. She took out the bag and emptied its contents onto the floor. She sifted through them meticulously and found absolutely nothing helpful. (She did find two Legos, which she set aside for Carl.) Then she moved onto the next thing to her left, which was a laundry hamper. Through the clothes she went, through every crease, every stain, every pocket. Nothing. No incriminating blood. No wads of cash. Nothing.
In this way, Gertrude went through the entire room, methodically and exhaustively. When she got to the bed, she shoved her short arms between the mattress and the box spring and felt around the length of the bed. Near the foot, her fingers grazed the edge of something that felt like paper. She couldn’t quite get a hold of it though, so she stood up, turned around, and pushed at the mattress with her butt. It didn’t move. She leaned forward, and then, pushing off her walker, she slammed her hind end into the mattress, and it slid off the box spring about eight inches. That would be enough. She reached in and grabbed what turned out to be a large, flat, brown envelope. She pulled it out and then hopped up onto the bed. She gingerly reached into the envelope and pulled out its contents ...
Yikes! Gertrude’s hand flew over her eyes. Then she peeked out through her fingers. There were naked people. Two of them. And the man looked a lot like the owner of Mattawooptock’s only water park.
She flipped the top picture over. Two more naked people underneath it. Same woman, who she was starting to assume was Lori. Different man, and she didn’t recognize him.
Third photo. Same woman. Different man. Gertrude gasped. This man was none other than Lance Pouliot—the Mattawooptock Mayor. Mattawooptock’s married mayor. Gertrude had seen his wife on the local news, and this wasn’t her.
Deep in her soul, Gertrude held a special reserve of disdain for Lance Pouliot. A few years back, he had tried to burn down her church, which also served as a homeless shelter. Not only had he gotten away with it, he had gotten himself elected as mayor, in part by running on a platform that promised to shut down the town’s homeless shelter, which of course, thus far he had failed to do.
She stared at the naked woman’s face. If this is Lori, she is a busy lady!
Gertrude slid the photos back into their envelope, and then zipped the envelope into her walker pouch, a floral-patterned bag that hung off the front of her walker. It served as her handbag, and its contents were putting a significant strain on the pouch’s seams.
She left the bedroom and called out, “Sophia? I’ve got to have to call the CAP bus again. You stay here and watch Tornado and Carl.”
“Where are you going?”
Gertrude ignored her. She called for a ride and then walked back to stand in front of her trailer. It was just after noon and had turned out to be a beautiful day. Her stomach rumbled, and she realized she hadn’t eaten anything lately. She rummaged around in her walker pouch until she found some yogurt-covered raisins and a breath mint. This would have to do for now. She was looking for a missing woman. Creature comforts could wait.
The van pulled up in front of her trailer, and Gertrude was dismayed to find that Norman’s shift was over. He’d been replaced by Andrea, a power-tripping, by-the-book ex-librarian.
Gertrude climbed into the van and smiled at the man sitting in the back seat. “Hi, Tiny,” she said.
He nodded.
“Where to?” Andrea asked.
Gertrude had to think fast. She needed to go to the water park, but she couldn’t think of a way to make this sound like a necessity, especially since the water park was likely closed for the season.
“G’s Automotives,” Gertrude said and looked out the window.
“G’s Automotives?” Andrea turned around and looked at Gertrude. “Why do you need to go there?”
“None of your business,” Gertrude tried.
“It is my business!” Andrea waved a clipboard at Gertrude. “I have to log all your stops, and stops have to be necessary, or you don’t get a ride. It’s right in the rules!”
Gertrude looked her in the eye and tried to be a good liar. “Why else would someone go to see a mechanic, Andrea? I need to pick up my car. Then I won’t need to ride around with you anymore!”
“You have a car?” Tiny said from the backseat. He sounded amazed.
Gertrude pressed her lips together and looked out the window.