Killer Keepsakes by Jane K. Cleland Read Free Book Online Page B

knock on the door, Vince walked out, and I dropped my eyes as if I were changing the radio station. He was wearing the leather bomber jacket and jeans. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him unlock the vehicle and swing into the front seat, moving with an athlete’s grace. He adjusted his rearview mirror. I felt his eyes on me. I kept my head turned away and still. As the Jeep pulled into traffic, I jotted down its plate number.
    I circled the complex slowly but didn’t see Gretchen’s car anywhere.
    A good way to hide in plain sight, I thought, might be to leave her car in a mall parking lot, so I drove the few blocks to Fox Run Mall and pulled into the lot through the entrance closest to JCPenney. There were only a half dozen cars in the entire place. Security, I figured, and I realized that hiding a car in a mall parking lot might work on a busy Saturday afternoon, but not on an early morning weekday.
    I returned to Mandy’s apartment. As I approached the front door, I noticed that all of the ground-floor blinds were drawn. I pressed the doorbell. Mandy smiled as she answered the door and said hello. She wasn’t wearing any makeup and looked very young.
    “I was a little worried,” I said. “You sounded pretty upset yesterday.”
    Her eyes lost some of their luster. “I was. I am. Come on in.” She led the way into her yellow and violet kitchen. “I just got the message you left last night—I’ve been staying at Vince’s place.”
    One step into the kitchen, and I stopped short. Boldly painted irises, daffodils, crocuses, and forsythia covered every inch of walls and cupboard doors, transforming the room into a springtime garden.
    “It’s fantastic!” I exclaimed. “Did you do it yourself?”
    “Yeah. It’s kind of a hobby.”
    “You’re really talented, Mandy. No wonder you’re thinking of opening an art gallery.”
    “Vince says it’s a pretty stupid way to spend time,” she said with a self-conscious laugh, “but I have fun with it.”
    I didn’t know how to respond. To express outrage at his absurd and mean-spirited edict was to jump into the middle of their disagreement, a place I didn’t want to be. I stayed quiet.
    After a long moment of awkward silence, she said, “I just made coffee. Want a cup?”
    “Thanks. I’d love one.”
    “Do you have any news about Gretchen?” she asked, turning to face the coffeepot.
    I shook my head. “No news, but I do have a couple of questions, if that’s all right. Gretchen’s best friend is named Lina, you said. What can you tell me about her?”
    “She’s great. I met her when I started working at the store—she’s an assistant manager, too. She introduced me to Gretchen.”
    “How long have they known each other, do you know?”
    “I’m not sure. Years, I think.”
    “Do you have any idea where Gretchen could be?” I asked, thinking, Like upstairs?
    “No,” she answered. “I have no idea, and Vince said I should be careful about speculating.”
    “I want to go look for her,” I said, “to reassure her that no matter what happened, I’ll help her.”
    She looked thoughtful. My gut told me not to believe that she had no idea where Gretchen might be, but my head warned me not to disbelieve her out of hand. From what I had observed myself and what Gretchen had reported, I knew that Mandy spent a lot of time braced for criticism, concerned that she might be disappointing someone. The bottom line was that I had no empirical evidence that Mandy was hiding or otherwise helping Gretchen.
    “It’s not speculating so much as guessing,” I added. “Where would you tell me to look?”
    “I don’t know,” she replied softly, shaking her head.
    I nodded. “Maybe Lina would know. Can you tell me where she lives?”
    She gave me Lina’s phone number and address. I glanced at the paper. I knew the street. It was a middle-class neighborhood near the Piscataqua River.
    “She’s in the ground floor unit.”
    “Thanks,” I said, slipping