Ida Belle’s voice was in my dream but I couldn’t see her. The room was black. Then I felt someone touch my shoulder and I bolted upright. Ida Belle stood next to my bed, wearing a worried expression.
“Is something wrong?” I asked. “Where’s Gertie?”
“She must have been in the shower when I called,” Ida Belle said. “I left a message for her to meet us here.”
I looked over at the clock. Seven a.m. Not the crack of dawn, but considerably earlier than an accepted time for house calls. “Did someone at the hotel recognize us?”
“Not that I’m aware of. Get dressed and come downstairs. Gertie should be here any minute. I want to wait for her before I tell you what’s happened.”
She headed out of the room and I heard her footsteps on the stairs. I hopped out of bed and pulled on yoga pants and a T-shirt before hurrying behind her. Ida Belle was in the kitchen putting on a pot of coffee. I grabbed some bagels from the refrigerator.
“You want one?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I had eggs and toast.” She pointed at the empty wine bottle on the table. “Party for one?”
“What else?”
She put the bottle in the trash can and the glass in the dishwasher. “You sleeping all right?” she asked.
“Let’s see. Running for my life from a naked man, hot shower, half a plate of cookies, and a bottle of wine. After all of that, you should worry if I didn’t sleep.”
She started to respond when I heard the front door bang shut. A couple seconds later, Gertie stepped into the kitchen, her hair still in rollers. “How come nothing ever happens after I’m done with my hair?” she asked.
“Because that would be convenient,” Ida Belle said. “Grab some coffee. I have news.”
I fixed my bagel, poured some coffee, and sat at the table across from Ida Belle. I glanced over at Gertie but she appeared to be as much in the dark as I was.
“Myrtle called me early this morning,” Ida Belle said. “Gail Bishop was murdered last night.”
Gertie dropped her coffee cup and it crashed onto the floor, sending coffee and bits of porcelain all over the kitchen floor.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said and hopped up to grab Gertie another cup.
Gertie took the cup, her hands shaking. “I can’t believe it. Myrtle is sure it was murder?”
“Shot in the forehead while sleeping.”
I frowned, trying to recall anything about the woman I’d met in the General Store that would explain why someone would want to murder her. “She’s in her forties and pleasant-looking, right? Husband in a wheelchair?”
“That’s right,” Ida Belle said. “You met them at the General Store.”
“Yes. When her husband tripped Celia with his wheelchair.”
“What about Nolan?” Gertie asked.
“He’s got some bruises but is otherwise all right,” Ida Belle said. “Physically, anyway. Myrtle said he fell apart when the paramedics told him Gail was dead.”
“Did he see anything?” I asked. “Do you have any details?”
Ida Belle nodded. “The story as I heard it was that Gail had a headache and turned in before Nolan. Their bedroom is upstairs. They have one of those rail things that lifts Nolan’s wheelchair up the stairs. Nolan was watching television downstairs in the living room when the power went out. He heard a scream, then a pop, but he said it didn’t register at first what it was.”
“That makes sense,” Gertie said. “No one expects to hear a gun being fired upstairs in their house. He could have thought it was a lightbulb bursting or something of the sort given the power outage.”
“Except for the scream part,” I pointed out.
“Exactly,” Ida Belle said. “He wheeled over to the bottom of the stairs and called for Gail, but she didn’t answer. Then someone with a flashlight ran down the stairs straight for him. He shoved Nolan’s wheelchair over and ran out the front door.”
“How did he get in the house?” Gertie asked.
“The window in the master bedroom was open. The latch on it doesn’t work properly. Apparently all you have to do is jiggle it some and it will work its way loose. There’s a trellis on the back wall of the house that leads right up to it.”
“No alarm?” I asked.
“No security system,” Ida Belle said, “but Nolan has one of those buttons on a necklace that he can press to call the paramedics. They responded quickly, thinking it was for Nolan, of course, but he sent them upstairs and they promptly called for the police.”
Gertie shook her head and sniffed. “That’s awful. Gail was such a nice woman, and I actually mean that. I’m not just saying it because she’s dead.”
Ida Belle nodded. “She was nice for real. No put-on.”
“Do the police think it was a robbery?” I asked.