The Dead Don't Get Out Much by Mary Jane Maffini

plate number of the Volvo.”
    â€œAlvin, I'm getting a headache. Let's find something to do here instead of fretting.”
    â€œThere's nothing to do. We've already searched the place twice.”
    â€œLet's search it again. Maybe instead of looking for something, we should concentrate more on what isn't here.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œI mean, what did she take with her. We think she took the two small red suitcases, and we know she left her uniform. We should have thought of this before.”
    â€œWe're rattled, Camilla,” Alvin said. He certainly looked rattled. The ponytail was damp and bedraggled, the earrings drooped, and he slouched, paler than dust.
    â€œAgreed. And we have a right to be. Now, let's get moving. Her walker's here.”
    â€œWhat do you think that means?”
    â€œI don't know what it means. Where is her cane?”
    Alvin zipped from room to room. “Nowhere,” he said. “It's gone. She's got two of them, and they're both gone.”
    â€œSo, maybe she was going somewhere where the walker wouldn't be necessary.”
    â€œOr maybe it wouldn't be convenient. Or it might be too noticeable.”
    â€œLike where, Alvin?”
    â€œI don't know. A bus?”
    â€œWhy would she take a bus? She has the car. Okay. We need some kind of focus. Let's assume she's not just randomly driving around to clear her head. Why would she go anywhere in the first place?”
    â€œAnd not to tell us where she was going, that's not like Violet.”
    â€œYou're right, it isn't. So either she's behaving irrationally, or she had a plan we don't know about and chose not to involve us.”
    â€œI hate both those options,” Alvin said.
    â€œMe too, but I think we have to face facts.”
    â€œWhat if someone took her away?”
    I felt a headache coming on. “We have no reason to believe that someone took her. Do you really think that Mrs. P. would just go off with someone without putting up a fight?”
    â€œShe wouldn't.”
    â€œThat's right. Now look around you.”
    Alvin narrowed his eyes and scanned the room.
    â€œDo you see any signs of a fight?”
    â€œI see mess. Remember we thought it was a burglar?”
    â€œNo signs of a struggle, right? No chairs knocked over, no stuff broken, no phone off the hook? This is Mrs. P. She wouldn't go quietly.”
    â€œMaybe he had a gun.”
    â€œAll right, before we explore the gun theory, let's work through the other much more likely reasons. First, that she was not thinking normally. What evidence do we have of that?”
    â€œJust the conversation with the dead guy.”
    â€œExactly.”
    â€œYour sister said that probably means dementia. That's got me all nerved up.”
    â€œWe were with Mrs. Parnell. She was upset, not demented.”
    â€œYeah, but she was troubled.”
    â€œDeeply disturbed. Definitely rational, as usual.”
    Alvin seemed to take some comfort in this.
    I said, “So let's assume that she is her normal self, even if upset enough to give us the slip in the hospital. If she's gone somewhere under her own steam, the question is, why would she leave here in such a hurry?”
    â€œTo find something out? Information.”
    â€œShe's a whiz on that computer. She can surf the net as well as you can, and she's way better than me. I think if she just wanted information, she'd do it here on her own.”
    Alvin furrowed his brow. “True, I guess.”
    â€œShe took suitcases, Alvin. Kidnappers wouldn't take suitcases. I think she's headed out of town, under her own steam and with some kind of plan we aren't privy to.”
    Alvin dragged himself into the bedroom and stared at the large, red unzipped suitcase in the middle of the floor. I followed.
    Alvin said, “Maybe she had something hidden in the suitcases. Maybe that's what the burglar was looking for. Or the kidnappers. Although it doesn't look like it had