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It was almost dusk when Dottie pulled her Cadillac onto Monument Avenue and crawled down Richmond’s famous Avenue, oblivious to the honks, beeps, and curses of other drivers. She was headed home. The roads were freezing, and she didn’t want to wreck her new car or slip and fall. Mic would just have to come to her house. She called Michaela.
Mic answered immediately. “Dorothy Borghase, where are you? I’ve been worried to death. I’ve called and called your cell phone, left messages, and you never responded,” she said, relieved Dottie was safe.
Dottie felt short of breath, most likely from anxiety. Her words came in small gasps. “Michaela, I have to talk to you. It’s critical.”
“You sound short of breath. Are you okay? Where are you, Dottie?” Mic spoke hurriedly, picturing the worst.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Dorothy panted. “I’m okay, and I’m in my car and almost home. You come to my house. I need to get home before the roads freeze again. It’s already dark, and you know I don’t drive much after dark.”
“Are you sure you shouldn’t be going to the hospital? I can call your heart doctor and have him waiting for you.” Mic was concerned over Dottie’s shortness of breath.
Dottie tossed her head in anger and part of her silver hair fell out of her bun. “I’m fine. I’ve been spying over at Dr. Dude’s office, and I want you to check out Tilda, the woman who works at Dude’s office. I just overheard her threaten one of the other staff. I think she’s involved in this, in fact I’m positive she is.”
“Involved how?”
“I think she knows about the missing women... and Allison. I heard her mention names and now she’s gone and threatened Janie, the young lady that makes appointments.”
Mic was quiet. She didn’t like Tilda either. “I’ll check her out and I’ll have Slade look into her too. She’s a pretty angry person, no question. Now, do you need Henry to pick you up?”
“No, I am driving home now. I’m fine. Just excited, and I need a glass of sherry. Now, get over here,” she demanded using her haughty countess voice. I’ll have Cookie make us some snacks.”
Michaela sighed. “All right. Give me about forty-five minutes. I’ll go to Biddy’s after I see you but first, I have to do a few things on Allison’s case and I’m calling Slade to check out Tilda.”
“You can have happy hour at my house,” Dottie snapped as she pulled into her circular drive in front of her mansion. “It’s not such a bad place,” she reminded her friend sharply.
Mic ignored her. “See you shortly,” Mic added as she placed her home phone on the cradle and shook her head. There was no one, absolutely no one, like the Countess Dorothy-plus-three-more-names Borghase. She loved her dearly and worried about her constantly.
Dottie laid on her horn and waited for her male servant and chauffeur, Henry, to come help her from the car. He always pulled her car into the garage ever since she’d run into the side of the garage last year. Damned wall. If she hadn’t known better, she’d swear someone moved it.