Death Come Quickly by Susan Wittig Albert Page B

“How about coming over and eating with us?” I paused and added, “Brian would have asked you, but he’s got his hands full with a paintbrush.”
    â€œSure,” she said enthusiastically. “If Brian can pick me up. Gretchen and I are sharing Mom’s car, but she drove it to the media lab. She’s planning to work with Kitt this evening, so I’m on my own. I’d love to come for pizza.”
    I hadn’t thought of transportation. Between the kids and their friends, I sometimes feel like I’m running a taxi service. “We can save Brian a trip into town if I pick you up on my way home from the shop,” I said. “Okay?”
    â€œSure. That’ll be great,” Jake said. “Thanks!”
    I said good-bye and hung up quickly, before she could ask if there was any news from the hospital. I didn’t want to tell her that Dr. Prior was dead—not over the phone. She was going to be very upset.
    â€œJake thinks her sister is working with Kitt at the lab all day,” I told Sheila. “No help there. But she did say that Gretchen is driving their mother’s car.”
    â€œRight,” Sheila said, sounding resigned. “Kitt can give me a description of Gretchen, and I can pull the mother’s vehicle registration. But I’ll have to phone the sister and get a number where I can reach the parents.”
    I copied Jake’s cell number and gave it to her. “But could you hold off on contacting her?” I asked, still concerned about frightening Jake. “She’s coming to my house for pizza this evening. If Gretchen hasn’t turned up by that time, I’ll tell her what’s going on and get the Keenes’ contact information for you. There probably aren’t that many cell towers in the jungles of Belize, anyway—and there’s nothing the parents can do right away.”
    Sheila put the number into her notebook. “Works for me.” She turned toward the door. “I’ll call Kitt and meet her at the station.”
    I stopped her. “Don’t you think it would be a good idea if you sent a uniform to pick her up at CTSU? We don’t know what’s happened to Gretchen. It might not be smart for Kitt to go wandering around—”
    â€œGood idea.” Sheila opened the door. “I’ll just pick Kitt up myself. The campus isn’t that far out of my way.”
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    P EOPLE often tell me that they’d love to quit their jobs and enjoy the “freedom” of owning their own business. They seem to have the idea that as a shop owner, I can come and go whenever the spirit moves me. Of course, it is true that I can get one of my helpers to take care of customers while I run an errand or spend a couple of hours in the garden. It’s also true that we are closed every Monday, which is my day to get caught up with the rest of my life—except, of course, when there’s something at the shop that I desperately need to do. But Tuesday through Saturday, ten through five, I’m on the job. Even when I’d rather be somewhere else.
    Like this Friday afternoon, when I would rather have been out looking for Gretchen. Unfortunately, I didn’t know her well enough to know where to start looking or even to suggest where other people might look. But I definitely felt I should be doing
something
, since Gretchen’s parents were friends and her sister was my son’s girlfriend, almost a member of the family. The feeling was unsettling.
    Luckily for me, though, the foot traffic in the shop was heavy, with the phone ringing frequently and customers in and out most of the afternoon. I was almost too busy finding plants, looking for books, answering questions, checking in a new shipment of bulk dried herbs, and managing the cash register to think about the death of Karen Prior or worry about what might have happened to Gretchen.
    Almost, but not quite.