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Gertrude didn’t have to work on the weekend, but still she called the CAP bus first thing Saturday morning.
When the large van pulled up in front of her trailer, she was disheartened to see that Andrea was driving. Andrea took her job a little too seriously, in Gertrude’s opinion.
“Destination?” Andrea said as Gertrude slid into the van.
“County jail,” Gertrude answered.
Andrea turned toward her and looked at her suspiciously. “I can only take you to necessary stops. Why do you need to go to the jail?”
“I need to pay a fine,” Gertrude lied.
“Fines are paid at the courthouse,” Andrea said, unblinkingly.
“You know what?! You need to get a life!” Gertrude cried.
“And you need to get a driver’s license!” Andrea gave it right back.
“I can’t. I’m disabled.”
Andrea turned around in her seat and stared out the windshield. “You can get out now. I’m not taking you to the jail. Why on earth would you want to go to the jail anyway?”
Gertrude gritted her teeth. Then she said, slowly, emphatically, and not a little menacingly, “I need to go to the jail because I’m having a steamy affair with a hardened criminal who happens to be staying there right now. If you don’t take me to him, right now, I will tell him that you are the reason I missed our date. I will tell him where you live and I will make sure he pays you a visit when he gets out.”
Andrea looked at her in the rearview mirror. She didn’t look convinced. She also looked a little scared. Wordlessly, she put the van in drive and headed toward the jail. The two women stayed silent for the ride, and for disembarkation. Gertrude noted, with some satisfaction, that Andrea did not log this particular ride on her infuriatingly neat clipboard.
Gertrude entered the clean lobby of the Somerset County Jail and wondered at what a nice place it was. It looked more like an office building than a jail, and the large welcome desk sat empty before her. She rang the call bell. No one materialized. She rang it again. And again. Soon, an annoyed-looking young man in uniform appeared. “Can I help you?” he asked tersely.
“I’m here to visit one of your prisoners.”
The man sat down. “No visitations on weekends.” He pointed to a sign on the counter that read just that.
“Oh doodlebug!” Gertrude exclaimed.
The man frowned.
“So I have to wait till Monday?”
The man nodded, still frowning. “And you’ll need to have an appointment,” he said, pointing at the sign again, which also included this information.
“Fine. Then I need to make an appointment please,” Gertrude said.
“All right,” the man said, and tapped a few keys on the computer in front of him. “And who would you like to visit?”
“Roderick.”
The man looked up. “Roderick who?”
“I don’t know,” Gertrude admitted.
“Well, we need a last name in order to schedule an appointment.”
“Oh piffle! How many Rodericks were arrested for murder yesterday?”
A look of recognition flashed across the guard’s face. “I’m sorry, I’ll need a last name. Then I’d be happy to schedule an appointment.”
Gertrude stood up straight. “You know who I’m talking about!”
Without looking at her, he said, “I don’t know anything.”
Gertrude walked to the door and called the CAP bus again.
“That was a quick visit,” Andrea muttered as Gertrude slid into the van.
“He’s a man of few words,” Gertrude said.
“Where to now? The casino?”
“There’s a casino in Mattawooptock?” Gertrude asked, appalled.
“That was a joke. Where do you want to go, your highness?”
Having absolutely no idea why Andrea had just called her “your highness,” she said, “Church please. Open Door.”
Andrea did as she was asked and looked quite relieved when Gertrude climbed out of the van in the church parking lot.
Gertrude hurried inside and out of the cold. She hung her coat in the lobby and then headed into the office. “Hi, Maggie. Hi, Tiny,” she greeted her friends.
“Hey, Gert. What brings you here?” Maggie asked brightly.
“Need to talk to Pastor Dan,” Gertrude said.
“He’s in his office,” Maggie said, nodding at his office door.
Gertrude went in without knocking and plopped down in a chair without being invited.
“Hey, Gert. Haven’t seen you in a few Sundays. Everything OK?” Pastor Dan asked.
“Yes. Sorry. Been busy as a bee in springtime. Anyway, I need you to go see a friend of mine.”
“OK,” Pastor Dan said. Then he waited. Gertrude didn’t say anything else. “Who is this friend?”
“His name is Roderick. He was arrested yesterday for murdering Tislene Breen, that woman they found in Goodwill? But he didn’t do it. So, he’s in jail, and they won’t let me in to see him. So I was hoping I could go with you. You know, sort of like a pastor’s assistant. I think they’d let you in. Must be a human right or something, right? They can’t deny him spiritual counsel?”
Pastor Dan laughed. “First of all, yes they can. Second, they won’t let me in on weekends. Third, I’m not taking an assistant in. Why are you so motivated to see him? Is this a good friend?”
“Not really. I hardly know him. But I need to know why they arrested him. I need to know what sort of evidence they have against him.”
“Ah!” Pastor said, as if he suddenly understood the whole conversation. “And why do you need to know this?”
“So that I can figure out who really did it.”
“Why don’t you just let the police handle this, Gertrude? I say this as your pastor and as your friend. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Look, will you go visit him or not?”
“Of course. But if he tells me something about his situation, I’m not going to share that with you.”
Gertrude stood up quickly and glared at the pastor she loved. “Fine then.” She turned and stomped toward the door.
Pastor Dan called after her. “I’ll still plan to visit him on Monday. What’d you say his last name was?”