Dolled Up for Murder (16 page)

Gretchen gave a bath to a soft vinyl doll, found underpants, a hat, shoes. The right clothes for the right doll. Worked a bow into her hair.

What would life have been like?

The list of exquisite and valuable dolls was seared into Caroline’s memory bank, her human cerebral memory bank, not that of the artificial random access memory lying on the cheap pine dresser. Close to two hundred dolls, each rare and unique, a haphazard, eclectic collection.

A rare George II wooden doll with painted, gessoed face in silk polonaise gown. Two French shoulder papier-mâché dolls with bamboo teeth. A German waxed composition lady with inset blue glass eyes. Parians, chinas, bisques representing the finest from France and Germany. A group of Italian Lenci cloth dolls. A finite list with infinite worth.

Now a collector’s dream turned into a freakish nightmare.

Excessive greed had dimmed the glow, dampened the glory of the fine collection.

Caroline could recite all the particulars of the inventory, could describe every photograph in detail, although her hope of recovering any of the collection diminished with every passing hour.

Her lips curled in momentary satisfaction.

At least she had the prize.

The French fashion doll.

19

A doll’s book value is an arbitrary guide to its actual worth. Most dolls sell for much less than their book price, and many dealers are happy to receive even half of the stated value. Some dolls, however, are so rare, so exquisite, so one-of-a-kind, that they command prices far beyond any written value. For these dolls, collectors with unlimited funds might offer exorbitant prices. Bidding wars are not uncommon.

—From World of Dolls by Caroline Birch

Gretchen turned over onto her back and rearranged the beach towel to cover her torso without opening her eyes. Her arms dangled over the sides of the lounge chair and brushed against the tile. The summer storm had passed, and the sun beat down on her face, searing and hot. She didn’t care.

A door banged in the front of the house, and the patio doors slid open. She heard Nimrod’s tiny nails clicking on the Mexican tile surrounding the pool and a small rush of air as he ran by. Another rush of air. Tutu. Gretchen refused to open her eyes.

“What the . . . !” Nina’s voice. “It’s a hundred and sixteen degrees outside. How long have you been lying here?”

Gretchen didn’t respond.

She poked Gretchen’s arm through the towel. “I’ve been calling you all morning. Your face is as red as a Roma tomato. Can you open your eyes, or are they burned shut?”

Gretchen pried one eye open and squinted at her aunt. “Go away and let me die.”

Nina yanked the towel away, ran around to the back of the chair, and pushed Gretchen up by her shoulders. “Come on. Into the shade with you. At least you had the sense to cover the rest of your body with a towel. Otherwise we’d be on the way to the hospital again.”

Gretchen slowly rose to her feet and let Nina lead her under an expansive table umbrella. She sagged into a chair and studied her feet. Too tall to be completely covered with the towel, the top of her feet had fried in the sun. Her face felt swollen, and her lips were starting to crack and blister.

Nina, face pinched and ashen next to Gretchen’s, plopped into a chair and leaned forward. “Is Caroline dead?” she said, shaky, awaiting bad news.

Gretchen slowly looked up and shook her head. Nina clutched her heart. “That’s a relief. When I saw you lying there, that’s the first thing I thought of.”

It was time to confide in Nina.

“Courtney, the intern, called last night. She and Steve are having a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Those were her words.”

Gretchen realized how badly she needed a sympathetic ear as the whole story spilled out of her.

Nina leaned back when she was finished and crossed her legs. “That rat. I always suspected as much.”

“You did not. You’re the one who thought I should give him an ultimatum.” Gretchen lifted an arm and tapped her head with the cast. “Is it my imagination, or is that idea a very bad one?”

“You can still offer him a choice. Death by fire or death by shark. I’ve always thought those would be the two worst possible ways to go, a fitting end for Steve.”

“He was continually working, always preparing for a case or meeting with clients or attending company-sponsored events. How did he find the time?”

“He wasn’t always working,” Nina said. “She turned out to be the special event he was working. I’m sorry it happened.”

“I shouldn’t have left Boston.”

Nina snorted. “You think if you had stayed, it would have ended between them? Right. Sure. Once a cheater always a cheater, I say.”

Gretchen’s new perception of her relationship seemed as clear as fog dissipating over the Boston Harbor. Thick, whirling haze had clouded her vision, but now she could see past the horizon. “I can’t believe he’d risk our relationship for a quick fling with a summer intern. He’s almost twice as old as she is.”

“Midlife crisis,” Nina suggested.

“He’s thirty-two. Too young.”

“The rat,” Nina said again.

Nina forced Gretchen into the bathroom and turned on the shower. “Keep the water cold,” she demanded. “That should snap you out of it. Take your time, and afterwards, I’ll work on your face. What a burn.”

“What’s that?” Gretchen said, noticing a purse hanging from Nina’s shoulder for the first time.

“That,” Nina said, “is today’s purse trainee. He’s sound asleep down on the bottom. You gave me such a scare, I forgot he was there.”

Twenty minutes later, Gretchen felt almost human again. Nina dabbed aloe vera lotion on her niece’s sunburned face and feet, and Gretchen slid into flip-flops.

“Bring a pair of athletic shoes along,” Nina said.

“Why?”

“We’re headed for Curves. I called April to find out what time the Dollers would be working out.” She glanced at her watch. “They’ll show up soon, and we don’t want to miss them.”

“But why are we going to Curves?” Gretchen felt a whine in her voice. “We can see them later. Call a meeting if you miss them so much. I’m really not in the mood to socialize.”

Nina smiled. “We’re going to sign up. We could both use some cardiovascular work. Exercise and research at the same time. Maybe we’ll find out if Rita really saw Bonnie at the Rescue Mission. That can be your job. Find out. And exercise is good for your mind. Let’s leave the dogs in the kitchen.” Nina glanced at the purse on her shoulder. “I’ll put Enrico in the bathroom.”

“Enrico needs his own room?”

“Enrico needs his own world.”

“Give my name when you sign up,” April said. “I’m working on a free T-shirt. Five enrollments, and I get my very own Curves shirt in orange, pink, blue, or black.”

Curves bustled with activity, every station occupied, conversations swelling over workout music. April, Bonnie, and Rita crowded around while Nina and Gretchen signed up for a trial week.

“You should sign up for a whole year,” April said, disappointment in her voice. “That’s the only way it counts toward my shirt.”

“Change stations now,” the recording announced.

Nina laid the pen on the counter. “Gretchen might go back to Boston in a few days. She can’t sign up for a year.”

“She can transfer her membership to Boston. That’s the beauty of Curves. They’re everywhere,” April said, checking Nina out. “You could use a year, too.”

Nina narrowed her eyes while Olivia Newton John belted “Let’s Get Physical” from a boom box on an overhead shelf. She opened her mouth to respond, but she caught Gretchen’s eye and the slight shake of her head. She closed her mouth.

“Stations are opening up,” Bonnie called out, her red flip shellacked stiffly around her face.

Gretchen leaped onto the stepper, jostling for a position next to Bonnie, her prey of the moment. She ignored the pain radiating from within her running shoes.

“You sure did burn your face,” April said. “Fall asleep in the sun?”

“No,” Nina said. “Her boyfriend cheated on her with a coworker, and I found her wallowing in self-pity by the pool.”

Everyone gasped, and Gretchen sent Nina a menacing glance. So much for personal privacy. Wallowing in self-pity? Well, Nina was right. She had too much on her mind right now to worry about Steve and Courtney.

She worked harder, running in place faster, increasing her concentration. Focusing on the workout.

“Men are all alike,” April said, huffing through the shoulder press. “Bad behavior runs in their genes.”

“Not my Matt,” Bonnie said, running in place. “Matty’s wife was the one who cheated on him. He’s going through a nasty divorce right now. Faithful as they come, my Matty.”

Probably married to his job more than to his wife,
Gretchen thought.
Although the job didn’t stop Steve.

“At least they didn’t have children,” Rita said. “Children complicate divorce.”

“What’s nasty about the divorce?” Nina asked. “Without children and child support or a custody battle, the divorce should be smooth sailing.”

“She stalks him. She wants him back, and she’s not above making scenes,” Bonnie said. “The closer they get to the divorce hearing, the more desperate she becomes. Poor Matty’s hiding in the streets. Lucky for him, he has a mobile job.”

Gretchen, preoccupied earlier with her own problems, wondered what had happened to her shadow. For all she knew, he was outside right this minute, waiting to follow her.

“Radio says more rain later today,” April said. “Just what we need.”

Nina bent over and placed her palms on the floor.

“Show-off,” April said.

“That’s amazing, Aunt Nina,” Gretchen said, skipping the shoulder press. Working out with a broken wrist proved a unique challenge.

“It’s the yoga,” Nina said. “I’m limber as a tree monkey, but my cardiovascular activity is limited to walking back and forth from the car. I guess you can’t have everything.”

“Run in place on the platforms,” April advised. “That’ll get your heart rate up. Mine’s always at the top end of what’s safe.” She pulled a hanky from her pocket and mopped her forehead.

“Gretchen’s cheating boyfriend is a divorce attorney,” Nina said. Gretchen thought about a direct frontal tackle. She could take Aunt Nina down in two moves.

“That makes it worse,” April said. “He should know better.”

“What are you going to do about it?” Rita said.

Get ready for a ten-second count.

Gretchen’s pulse rate went off the chart hanging on the wall. “I don’t know,” she said, after the count, when she noticed Rita still looking at her and waiting for her answer. “I really don’t know.”

And she didn’t know. That had been the recurring question in her mind since Courtney’s call last night. How to handle it. What to say. How to react.

Steve had assured her that it would never happen again, and she had wanted so badly to believe him. What if Courtney was lying?

After two circuits, Nina’s face turned the same color as Gretchen’s burned face.

“I need to take a break,” Nina said.

“Me, too,” huffed April.

The two women moved away from the workout area, and Gretchen glanced at Bonnie. The hydraulic machines hissed around her. Rita turned and said something to the woman ahead of her.

“I saw you, too,” Gretchen leaned over and whispered to Bonnie, taking a wild shot.

Bonnie smiled at Gretchen, bending to the side, stretching, one arm high and wide overhead. “You saw me?”

“At the Rescue Mission.”

“Change stations now.”

Bonnie’s smile died, and her face closed up.

“Look,” Gretchen said, “your hair is hard to miss.”

Bonnie’s hand jumped to her red hair.

“Your hair is beautiful, don’t get me wrong,” Gretchen said hastily. “It’s unique; that’s why I know it was you.”

Bonnie smiled with her teeth, gums showing. “Sorry to disappoint, but you are mistaken.” She nudged Rita. “We must be almost done.”

Rita turned back. “Done,” she agreed.

“Never trust a woman whose gums show when she smiles,” Gretchen said to Nina as they zipped through traffic on the way back to her mother’s house. “Who said that?”

“You just did.”

“No, I’ve heard that expression someplace before.”

“Interesting about your friend, Matt. Don’t you think?”

“That he’s going through a divorce?”

“He’s available,” Nina said, honking at a passing car that strayed into her lane. “Never ignore opportunity.”

“That,” Gretchen said, emphatically, “is the last thing on my mind.”

“Good. At least it’s on the list.”

“I can’t help but think that she’s hidden the French fashion doll right here in the house,” Gretchen said over loud, aggressive snarls. Enrico, the Chihuahua, raised his upper lip and growled at Gretchen. “He’s going to attack me.”

“Chihuahuas,” Nina said in an instructional voice, “are as old as the Mayan civilization. We’ve actually discovered their images carved in stone in the Mexican jungle. The Mayans believed Chihuahuas guided the dead through the underworld.”

“This particular one doesn’t have
guide dog
written all over him. He should come with a
vicious attack dog
warning.”

“Chihuahuas don’t like strangers. They don’t like other people or other dogs, but they bond with one or two people and are devoted for life.”

Enrico continued to snarl at Gretchen.

“Give him a treat,” Nina advised, handing Gretchen a liver snap.

“I’m not going near him. And look at Tutu and Nimrod. They’re terrified.”

Both dogs had backed into a corner, watching the action from a safe distance. Wobbles, on the other hand, strutted past the purse hanging from the doorknob without acknowledging the rabid beast within its confines. He stopped at Gretchen’s feet and gazed at the liver snap. Gretchen bent down and handed it over.

“They take a little getting used to,” Nina admitted. “Although Chihuahua owners just love them to death. And speaking of death. They can live for twenty years.”

“Isn’t that nice. Can we get back to my mother and where she may have hidden the doll? According to the note we found written on the back of Nacho’s French fashion doll picture, my mother has the doll.”

“We’ve been over this before,” Nina said. “The police searched the house. Wouldn’t they have found the doll if Caroline had it here?”

Gretchen frowned, and the movement caused burning pain to shoot through her face. What a mess. Broken wrist, second-degree burns on her face and feet. Or was it third-degree? Second, third, or fourth, who cared? All Gretchen knew was that it really hurt.

“They did a poor job of searching. They didn’t seem concerned about anything other than the parian doll and the inventory list.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Follow me.” Gretchen opened the doors to the patio. She walked past the swimming pool into the living area of the cabana. It was exactly as she remembered it. Large, welcoming fireplace, cozy sitting area, wide bed with a locally made Indian blanket spread across it, more blankets draped on the walls, pottery scattered in nooks and crannies. An Arcosanti bell hanging from the outside eave chimed in the breeze.

She pointed to a stack of boxes pushed against the wall. Unless company arrived, the cabana served as a storage area rather than a guest room, housing the dolls her mother sold at shows.