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In the morning, Gertrude knew it was time to go talk to Sherri and resign from her Goodwill position. She had enjoyed working at Goodwill, but she really wanted to devote all her energy to her gumshoe business.
Norman picked her up, and Gertrude regaled him with the whole story, only embellishing a little. In this version, she had been the one to dive headfirst through the window, and she had been the one to drive the forklift in the desired direction. Norman nodded politely as she talked and looked a little relieved when she disembarked at Goodwill.
When Gertrude found Sherri, her eyes were swollen and red, and black eye makeup ran down her cheeks.
“What’s wrong?” Gertrude asked.
“Gertrude, I’m sorry,” Sherri said, ignoring her question, “but you don’t have a job here anymore. You can’t just come and go as you please. It’s not fair to the other employees.”
“I understand,” Gertrude said. “Now, why are you crying?”
Sherri took a deep breath. “Well, the good news is, Roderick has been cleared of all charges. The bad news is, they found the murder weapon, and apparently it had a bloody fingerprint on it.”
“And?” Gertrude prodded. So far, none of this was news to her.
“And Azalea has confessed to the murder.”
“Azalea?” Gertrude exclaimed. She hadn’t seen that one coming. “Why on earth would she kill someone? She’s as sweet as cherry pie on Sunday!”
Sherri half-chuckled through fresh tears. “Apparently, Azalea saw the customer hiding items in the cosmetics section. Sometimes people do that when they want to come back and buy them later, when they’re half-price. Anyway, Azalea got angry and hit her with a lamp. She says she didn’t mean to. She said she just wanted her to stop cheating.”
“Hm. That’s too bad, Sherri. I know you like Azalea.”
Sherri looked at her. “I more than like her. I love her. She’s been here with me a long time. She’s a sweet girl. You’re right, sweet as cherry pie. She really didn’t understand what she was doing. I don’t think she’d even hurt a fly on purpose. I once saw her pick up a spider in the back room and set it free outside.” Gertrude shuddered. “She has a developmental disorder. I know that she did a horrible thing, but I still don’t want her to go to prison! I just wish none of this had ever happened.” Overcome by a new onslaught of tears, Sherri looked at the floor.
“There, there,” Gertrude said, and patted her spiky head with one hand. “Don’t fret. I think I’ve got a plan.”
Gertrude called Norman back.
“Take me home, Norm, but I only need to be there for a few minutes. Then I need you to take me to the Antiques Mall.”
“I hardly think the Antiques Mall is a necessary stop,” Norman said.
“It is. Trust me. This is life or death.”
“Have you ever heard the story of the boy who cried wolf?”
“Yeah. What about him?”