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“What on earth is wrong with you?” Trixie asked, glaring down at her.
Gertrude tried to roll over, but she looked much like a chubby beetle stuck on its back. “Aren’t you cold?” Gertrude asked. Trixie was only wearing underwear. Gertrude reached into her pocket and tried to be sneaky as she stabbed at the smartphone’s screen, but Trixie took one quick step and then kicked the phone out of Gertrude’s hand. “Ow!” Gertrude accused.
“You really think you’re going to call for help?” Trixie snapped. “No one is coming for you. You’re going to die, just because you were stubborn and stupid. Now, get up, and get inside.”
Gertrude tried to roll over again, but failed. “Where’s Frank?” she asked.
Trixie laughed. “Frank’s not going to rescue you either. You didn’t think I heard you when you started to climb the vines? You sounded like a herd of elephants. I told Frank it was just a fat cat, but I had a feeling it was you, so I tied Frank to the bed.”
“What, you going to kill him too?” Gertrude asked.
“Of course not!” Trixie cried. “I’m not going to kill him. I love him! I did all this for him! I just had to tie him up so I could deal with you, you crazy wench. Now, get up! I’m not going to tell you again!”
“I can’t! Can’t you see I’m disabled? You’re going to have to help me.”
“I’m not touching you. Now get up,” she said through gritted teeth.
Gertrude could tell she was getting worried. Poor little Trixie doesn’t know what to do. “Why’d you kill Lori?”
“None of your business.”
“I’ll get up if you tell me.”
“You’ll get up now, or I’ll shoot you in the head.”
“No you won’t. Calvin is parked at the end of the street. He knows I’m here. He’ll call the cops.”
Trixie looked at the end of the street. Then she looked down at Gertrude. “Get up. Then I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
It hurt, but Gertrude managed to get herself rolled onto her side. Then, painstakingly, she rolled onto her belly. Then she did half a push up, cried out in anguish, and collapsed on the ground.
“Oh, you stupid freak!” Trixie reached down and tried to grab Gertrude’s arm, and Gertrude swung one chubby leg at Trixie’s feet. This knocked Trixie off balance and she let go of Gertrude’s arm to catch herself with her free hand. Then, with all her gumption, Gertrude used the same leg to kick at the gun, which went off in Trixie’s hand, momentarily freezing Gertrude with fear. But she soon realized she wasn’t in any more pain than usual, so she figured she hadn’t been shot, and began to scramble on all fours toward Trixie, fully intent on scratching her eyes out.
“Oh my ... you crazy old hag, you are really nuts,” Trixie said, and punched Gertrude in the face.
Gertrude’s head snapped back from the blow, and she put her left hand to her cheek in surprise. “Ow! That hurt!” Gertrude reared up on her knees and tried to hit her back with her right hand, but missed Trixie entirely and flopped back down on her chest.
“Will you just stop!” Trixie cried, out of breath.
Gertrude did stop. She was just too tired to continue. She rolled over onto her back and looked up at Trixie. “Oh, just tell me why. I’m going to die anyway. Can’t you throw me a bone?”
“Because I love him, and she wouldn’t stop blackmailing him! I didn’t mean to fall in love with him. I just did. And she didn’t care! He told me to!”
“A cop told you to murder a waitress?” Gertrude asked, appalled.
“No, you idiot. Frank told me I had to get her to stop blackmailing him. Then he would leave his wife for me.”
Gertrude started to laugh then. A great, deep belly laugh burbled up from deep within her and burst onto the scene, echoing through the neighborhood.
“Shut up!” Trixie hissed. “Will you just shut up!”
“You are bonkers! He wasn’t gonna leave his wife! You killed her for nothing!”
“I didn’t kill her—her greed did! I tried to warn her, to scare her off. Left her death threats at work, but she wouldn’t stop. So I told her I was meeting Silas again at the water park. Said she could come for more pictures. Then we could threaten his business as well as his marriage—”
“Did you find the hide-a-key too?” Gertrude interrupted, picking her head up.
Trixie blinked, surprised. “No, I climbed through a window.”
“Oh, should’ve just used a key,” Gertrude said, lying her head back down. “Would’ve been easier.”
The women heard sirens. Trixie looked up. Then she took off running. Into a neighbor’s back yard. In her underpants. With the gun. Gertrude knew that it wasn’t the cops. Gertrude knew that it was only an ambulance. But apparently Trixie didn’t know her sirens. Gertrude lay there, trying to catch her breath as the sirens got closer and louder.
Then the ambulance pulled into the driveway, and its headlights lit up her spot on the lawn, which was now quite trampled. She lifted one weary, floppy arm in the air, just so they could see her. They must have, as she soon heard their footsteps running across the ground.
“Are you the one who pressed a LifeRescue button?”
Gertrude turned her head to the side and saw some bright orange New Balance tennis shoes. They were the most beautiful shoes she’d ever seen. “Yes,” she said, “but I’m OK. I think. I just fell while trying to scale the wall. But you should call the police. Because there’s a cop upstairs. He’s tied up. And there’s a murderer. She went that way.” Gertrude pointed toward the neighbor’s back yard. “She’s in her skivvies. And she has a gun.”
The man with the beautiful sneakers spoke into his radio. “Charlie one-one, send police to scene. Armed suspect, female, running west from this address.”
A voice crackled through the radio, but Gertrude couldn’t quite make it out.
“OK, ready?” a female paramedic scooched at Gertrude’s head, preparing to lift her.
“Wait!” Gertrude cried. “My jitterbug!”
“Your what?” the female paramedic asked.
“My cellular telephone! It’s over there!” she said, pointing through the grass. “We have to get it! I taped her confession!”
“I’ll get it,” Mr. Orange Sneakers said.
“Oh, thank you,” Gertrude said. “Thank you so much.” And then she closed her eyes.