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Gertrude was having a bad day. She’d woken up too early and hadn’t been able to fall back asleep. Her lower back was killing her, and she wasn’t quite sure why. All she knew was she couldn’t find a comfortable position. Sitting was almost impossible. Standing wasn’t much better. To make matters worse, it was unseasonably warm for a Maine spring, and she couldn’t seem to cool off.
She had opened all the windows in her trailer, and was digging through a back room full of “summer supplies,” looking for her fans, when she heard a knock on her door. This surprised her—she never got company—and she stood up abruptly, causing a sharp pain to shoot down her left leg. “Ow!” she cried, though her many cats were her only potential sympathizers.
By the time she and her walker got to the door, she was out of breath and sweat dripped down her face. It had been some time since she’d heard the knock, so she flung the door open, afraid that her caller had already left.
He hadn’t.
“Well hi there, Andy! What are you doing here?”
Andy gave her a half-smile. “I’m surprised you remember me. It’s been a while.”
“That it has. Do you still work down at the gentleman’s club?”
“Well, you’re the only one who calls it that, but yes, I’m still at Private Eyes.” He stopped talking and stared at her as if waiting for her to say something.
After a long pause that would have felt awkward to most people, but not so much to Gertrude, she asked, “So what brings you to my neck of the woods?”
Andy looked down, as if embarrassed about something.
“What’s wrong, Andy? Cat got your tongue? Around here, that’s possible.” She laughed at her joke. He did not. Some people just have no sense of humor.
“Could I come in?”
Gertrude took a step back. “I s’pose so, but it’s hotter than a hoochie coochie in here.”
Andy chuckled, but it sounded forced. He stepped inside, and his eyes grew wide as he looked around her home. “Wow, you sure do have a lot of ... stuff.”
Gertrude’s chest grew tight with defensiveness. “I’m a collector. Wouldn’t be a very good collector if I didn’t collect things. Now what can I do for you?”
Andy started to shut the door behind him.
“Leave it open. It’s a lot cooler out there.”
“Won’t your cats get out?” As he spoke the words, Lightning zipped through the doorway.
“Yes, but that’s all right. My neighbors love cats.” At least, none of them have ever complained. That I know of.
“Anyway,” Andy continued, his eyes scanning the room again as if he just couldn’t believe what he was seeing, “are you still doing that private investigating thing?”
Gertrude’s heart leapt. “Why, yes I am!”
Andy looked at her. His eyes were steady, unemotional. “How much do you charge?”
Gertrude frowned. She had no idea how much she charged. No one had ever paid her for her services. “Twelve dollars an hour?” she guessed.
Andy nodded and looked around again. “Do you think maybe you could work for a few hours, see what you could find out for me? I don’t have much money, but I really need some help.”
“Sure!” Gertrude trembled with excitement. This would be her very first paying client. Her first willing client. “What’s the case?”
“My girlfriend is missing.”
“Oh,” Gertrude said, feeling a little guilty for being excited about such a pickle. But only a little. “Have you gone to the police?”
Andy looked disgusted at the idea. “Aren’t they kind of your competition? Why do you want me to go to them?”
“Because if your girlfriend is in danger, we want all hands on deck, right? The cops aren’t my competition. It’s more like I work alongside them.” This was sort of true.
Andy grimaced. “Yes, I told them, and they don’t care. Or they don’t believe me. I don’t know. She’s only been missing for a day, and they seem to think she’s not really missing. They acted like I’ve been dumped and just don’t know it yet.”
“Have you?”
“Have I what?”
“Been dumped?”
“No! Look, I really love Samantha. And she loves me. This isn’t just some fling. We’re going to get married. This is unlike any other relationship I’ve ever had. It’s for real, and she wouldn’t just up and leave me. Something is really wrong. I can feel it.”
“All right, Andy. I was just asking. How long has she been missing?”
“She went to work yesterday. I talked to her coworker—”
“Where does she work?”
“Hospital. She’s a CNA.”
“Hang on,” Gertrude said. “Let me get some note-taking implements.” She hobbled into the kitchen.
“You OK?”
“Yep, just got a little ache in my upper tuchus, is all.” She rummaged through a drawer and came up with a pad of paper and a pen. She returned to find him staring at her. “What?”
“Nothing. Just wondering if I’ve lost my mind asking you for help. You’re not exactly a typical private investigator.”
“Nothing good about typical, no there ain’t. Besides, I’m the only one in town. Now, what’s your girlfriend’s last name?”
“Actually, no, you’re not the only one in town.”
Gertrude’s head snapped up. “What?”
“Colby Rodin.”
“Who in tarnation is Colby Rodin?”
“He’s a PI. Got an office downtown. Been there for years.”
“Well, I’ve never heard of him. So he must not be anything to write home about. Besides, you’re here, aren’t you?”
“He charges fifty dollars an hour and a two hundred dollar retainer.”
“I see.” Gertrude wished she’d given more thought to her hourly rate. “Well anyway, you’re here now, so let’s get to work. Her name is Samantha what?”
“Cooper.”
“All right,” Gertrude said, writing that down, “and she’s a CNA at the hospital?”
“Yes.”
“And she went to work yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“What were her hours?”
“Seven to six.”
“Wowsa, that’s a long shift.”
“Yeah, but she only works four days a week, so she likes it. Today was the first day of her three days off, and we were supposed to go for a hike ...” Andy’s voice trailed off. The sadness in it made Gertrude acutely uncomfortable.
“Pretty muddy for a hike,” Gertrude commented.
“Yeah. Samantha is outdoorsy. And she can talk me into anything.” He sounded even sadder.
“All right, so did she work her full shift?”
“Yes, I talked to a girl who works with her, and she said that Sam left work at the normal time, and was in a good mood and everything.”
“What time did she leave exactly?”
“Six.”
Gertrude wrote that down. “And do you know if anyone has seen her since?”
“I don’t think so. She never went home last night—”
“Went home? You two don’t cohabitate?”
“No. She wanted to wait till we were married.”
Gertrude raised an eyebrow. “Old-fashioned girl, eh?”
“As I was saying, her roommate, Akayla, said she hasn’t come back to her apartment. She hasn’t heard from her either. But there is this ...” He pulled his cell out of his back pocket. “Sam had an appointment with someone named Patsy at six-thirty. I don’t know what this is, or who Patsy is, but it just appeared on our calendar yesterday.”
“Our calendar?” Gertrude asked, confused.
“Yeah, we share a Google calendar. So she added this sometime yesterday, but I don’t know when.” He held the phone out to her.
She didn’t take it. She wasn’t sure why he wanted her to. “And does it say where the appointment was?”
“No. It just says ‘Patsy,’ which you could see for yourself if you would just take the phone.”
Gertrude ignored his outstretched phone and wrote, “Andy can be rude,” on her notepad.
Finally, he gave up and put the phone back in his pocket.
“Did you tell the cops about Patsy?”
“They didn’t let me get that far.”
“All right, what else do we know?” Gertrude asked.
“That’s it.”
“That’s it?”
“Yep. She’s missing. Her car’s missing. I can’t find anyone who has seen her. And I don’t know who Patsy is. You now know everything I know.”
“OK, can you take me to her apartment?”
“Uh ... sure. You want me to drive you?”
“Yes. I need a ride.”
“You don’t have a car?”
“I do not.”
“What kind of a private investigator has no car?”