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CHRISTMAS WAS COMING, and Gertrude didn’t have all her shopping done yet. Actually, she didn’t have any of her shopping done yet. But she really only had to shop for her sister Harriet, and she wanted to get something for Isaiah and Elijah, two little boys from her church.
Gertrude didn’t usually shop at Goodwill; it was just too pricey for her taste, but they were having a dollar sale that weekend, and she knew Goodwill would have games and toys.
So, she called the CAP bus. CAP stood for Community Action Program, a county-run organization that provided free transportation to people who qualified.
The CAP bus pulled into Gertrude’s trailer park fifteen minutes later. Gertrude threw on her coat, said goodbye to her many cats, and headed out into the cold. She was happy to see that Norman was driving. She liked the cut of Norm’s jib.
“How are things, Norm?” she said as she hoisted herself into the van.
“Oh you know, the usual.”
She banged the snow off the feet of her walker and slid the van door shut. “Ah, nice and toasty in here,” she said. She really didn’t like being cold. The older she got, the less she liked it.
“I aim to please,” Norman said. “Where to?”
“I need to go to Goodwill, do some Christmas shopping.”
Norman chuckled, but he didn’t argue. He drove his van around the one-way loop that served as Gertrude’s street, and then pulled out onto Route 150 in the small Maine town of Mattawooptock. Goodwill was only a few miles away, and it didn’t take long to get there, despite the sloppy driving conditions. He pulled the van up to the front door. “Do you know how long you’ll be?”
“Yeah, probably a couple of hours,” Gertrude said. “I like to make sure I see everything.”
Norman shook his head. “Only you could spend a couple of hours in Goodwill. My shift will probably be over by then. But just call for a bus. They’ll let you use their phone.”
“No need, Norm! I got my own jitterbug now!”
“You do?” Norman asked, shocked.
“Yep!” she proudly declared. “You want my number?”
“Nah, that’s OK. I’ll get it later. You have fun shopping now.”
“Always do!” Gertrude said, and slid out of the van. Then she slipped and slid her way through the slush toward the big, glass double doors.
Goodwill was packed on this Saturday morning. Gertrude couldn’t believe that so many people could afford to shop at Goodwill. The kids’ corner of the store was completely swamped. There were little rugrats everywhere.
Gertrude stowed her walker neatly in the near corner of the store, and replaced it with a shopping cart. Then she headed, with some trepidation, toward the masses.
She wisely avoided the clothing racks, and weaved her way through strollers and shopping carts to the toy section. Here, there were only kids, so Gertrude was the same height as everyone else. She saw a stuffed panda that she thought Elijah might like, but as she reached for it, a grubby toddler grabbed it from beneath her hand. Gertrude gave the girl a dirty look, but resisted the urge to snatch it out of her sticky little paws. She surveyed the remaining toys before her and found a colorful stuffed dinosaur. She snatched it and looked it over. Only one dollar. In pretty good shape. No holes or stains. Only a few stray dog hairs. She could pick those off later. She threw the stuffed dino into her empty cart. Now, for Isaiah. He was a little older, so she wanted to get him a big-boy present. Her eyes traveled to the puzzles. Aha! But wait, how do I know there are no missing pieces in these puzzles? In the end, Gertrude decided it was worth the gamble. She had a vast collection of “extra” puzzle pieces at home. If the puzzle she purchased had any holes, she was certain she could find something in her collection of extras that would work. So, after a little ado, she decided on a forty-piece puzzle depicting a tank full of colorful, tropical fish. She thought Isaiah would like it. She was also starting not to care, as she was really getting tired of hanging out in the kids’ section. There were just too many kids there.
She tossed the puzzle into her cart. Now, for her sister Harriet. She pushed her cart out of the kids’ section and then looked around, wondering where to go next. She didn’t want to look at clothes, because a) they were expensive, and b) Harriet was no Slim Pickens. Gertrude didn’t want to buy her something that was too small, or, heaven forbid, too big. She’d never hear the end of it.
I know! Perfume! Gertrude knew from past visits that, in another corner of the store, a small section was devoted to things that smelled fancy: cosmetics, soaps, lotions, and such. She pushed her cart out of the fray and toward the perfume section, which appeared to be empty.
As she rounded the corner to come into the perfume aisle, she saw that the section wasn’t entirely empty, and she let out a little shriek.
There, on the floor, lay a young woman, who, judging from the pool of blood around her tousled, wavy, brunette locks, was very dead. Only inches from the unfortunate woman’s head lay the ugliest lamp Gertrude had ever seen. She marveled at how the lamp was fearsome enough to stand out and startle her, despite its proximity to a dead person. The thing was an awful green, a shade straight out of a 1970s kitchen. She had a dishwasher bearing that same tint of avocado tucked away in her trailer. Not only was the lamp this regrettable hue, it also bore a lampshade in a clashing shade of lime. And it got even worse. Suspended from the hideous lampshade were several decorative birds. Though Gertrude was fairly confident that they were not, the birds appeared to be taxidermic. She scooched to try to peer at the birds through the thick layer of dust they each bore, and that’s how the hordes found her when they arrived in response to her shriek: crouched over a dead body.
She heard several gasps and looked up to see about a dozen faces looking at her in horror. “I just found her like this!” Gertrude cried.
She scanned the faces and could tell that many didn’t believe her. As if she would just decide to thump some strange woman in Goodwill with the world’s ugliest dead-bird-lamp. Mothers were shielding children’s eyes from the scene, and a man in remarkably thick glasses gruffly told Gertrude to “Get back!”
“I didn’t do anything!” Gertrude cried. “I can prove it too! That lamp will not have my fingerprints, and look,” she added, holding her hands up, “I’m not wearing gloves!”
“What lamp?” the mean man in thick spectacles asked, looking around.
Gertrude looked down at the blood. What in tarnation? Sure enough, the lamp had vanished, though there was a smear in the pool of blood, marking where the lamp had been. Gertrude looked around at the crowd, searching their hands, carts, and bags, but she didn’t see the lamp, or any blood. She began searching their faces, but she didn’t see anyone who looked particularly guilty.
A woman who looked to be in charge pushed her way through the crowd. “Everyone, please leave this aisle. The police have been called. They’ll be here shortly. They’ve asked me not to let anyone leave the store, but please, let’s give this poor woman some space.”
At first, Gertrude thought the speaker meant to call her, Gertrude, the “poor woman,” but then she realized the speaker had meant the dead one. Gertrude backed out of the aisle, pulling her cart with her, still looking for the lamp.
“Did anyone see or hear anything?” Gertrude asked loudly, but she was summarily ignored. She pushed her cart through the crowd, not bothering with time-consuming niceties, until she had circled around to the other end of the closed-off aisle. She squatted to look at the scene from a different angle, and then she saw it. A dirty, dead bird. Only one. But it had to have belonged to that lamp; there was just no other excuse for its existence. It had rolled, slid, or drifted just under the lip of a bottom shelf, so it was invisible to anyone standing upright. Gertrude tried to be sneaky as she reached under the shelf to retrieve the bird, but she needn’t have worried. No one was paying her any mind. She snatched the bird and slid it into the pocket of her plaid jumpsuit.
She was looking around for other clues and birds when she heard a voice she recognized, but wished she didn’t. “All of you, go to the area in front of the fitting rooms. Someone will be there shortly to speak with you,” Deputy Hale of the Somerset County Sheriff’s Department ordered.
People began to obediently file toward the changing rooms. Gertrude stayed put.
“Oh great,” Hale said, “you again.”