Dolled Up For Murder

14

“No, April isn’t planning a trip,” Gretchen informed Nina when she returned to the car. “Not a short one or a long one, nothing in the future, nothing in the past. If she can be believed.”

“I still think she had valley fever,” Nina said.

“The newest development concerns Bonnie. Rita says she saw her go into the Rescue Mission yesterday, but Bonnie denies it. Why would she be hanging around that area?”

“You’ve been there twice looking for Nacho. Maybe she is, too.”

“That’s what bothers me.”

“Where next?” Nina asked.

Gretchen unfolded a piece of paper with names and addresses she’d copied from the telephone directory. “Let’s visit Martha’s relative,” she said. “I really want to know why he hid their family connection.”

It was a short hop from the city of Tempe over to Mesa, which was known as a Mormon town. With more than twenty golf courses, it touted itself as an affordable and ideal retirement community.

They pulled into a drive-through restaurant, ordered at the window, and sat in the car eating green chile burgers and French fries. Nina hand-fed pieces of hamburger to Tutu and Nimrod after picking off most of the green chiles. A wee-wee stop afterwards completed the fine dining experience for the two dogs.

Exhibiting extreme willpower, Gretchen refused an order of fries, remembering April’s comment about Gretchen’s weight at Curves.

“Do you think I need to lose a few pounds, Aunt Nina?”

“No,” Nina said, laughing. “You need to develop a life.”

“You’re terrible. Cruel and inhuman.”

“I have an idea for you.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Why don’t you come and work for me? We can train purse dogs together.” Nina nibbled on a French fry, and Gretchen watched with envy. “I’ve been turning away clients because I don’t have enough time. You’d be good.”

Gretchen rolled her eyeballs to the ceiling of the car, then glanced at Tutu and Nimrod in the backseat. Nimrod had mustard on his face from the hamburger. The canine profession suited Nina perfectly, as did doll restoration for her mother.

Gretchen, alas, still searched for her own niche. Dog training was decidedly not it.

“I don’t think I have the patience,” Gretchen said. “And Wobbles wouldn’t approve. Besides, I’m going back to Boston soon, back to Steve and back to the search for a ‘real’ job.”

“Are you implying that purse dog training isn’t a real job?” Nina said.

Gretchen gave in to temptation and snitched one of Nina’s fries while she searched for a quick response to cover having blurted out the truth. “It demands a certain amount of connection with different energy sources, uh… a special ability to read auras must be important in training puppies. I bet only a few people have what it takes.”

“You could be a cat trainer.” Nina’s eyes lit up at the idea. “Are cats trainable?”

Gretchen chuckled at the thought of any cat taking orders from a human being. She tried to picture Wobbles traveling in a purse and snorted out loud. “No,” she said. “They really aren’t.”

“What about that guy in Key West? The Catman,” Nina said. “He makes cats jump through hoops.”

“I’d love to see that sometime. But right now, let’s go talk to Joseph Reiner.”

Joseph’s Dream Dolls was located on Southern Avenue and was appropriately named. The shop cabinets and countertops brimmed with fabulous dolls arranged in groupings. Rare collectibles were locked into a large cabinet where Gretchen stood admiring a Kestner boy doll through the glass. Joseph rushed to the front of the store to greet them.

“Hey, you two,” he said, noticing the dogs for the first time. “I’m closing up. It’s five o’clock. I’ll just lock the door. You two stay put.” He rolled a finger across the top of Nimrod’s head, then bent to give Tutu equal attention.

“I’m showing Gretchen around town,” Nina said. “We thought we’d stop by.”

“Look around. Enjoy yourself, but keep a good eye on your dogs. The teacup poodle in the purse is priceless.” He breezed away to lock up.

What a delight, Gretchen thought, reveling in the combination of old and new-a Door of Hope Mission doll from China, several Queen Annes, and a large selection of contemporary artist dolls. She admired a Dy-Dee Baby and two celebrity dolls, Marie Osmond and Annette Funicello. The collection of dolls was endless, and for a time, as she wandered through the shop, she escaped into a make-believe world of color and glamour and beauty.

Joseph cleared his throat and brought her back from her welcome escape from reality. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, pulling at the diamond stud in his left ear.

“I’m okay.” Gretchen laughed lightly. “We came by for several reasons, to see your shop, of course, but I wanted to show you this picture again when all the club members weren’t present.”

“I thought that detective took this picture as evidence,” Joseph said when she handed it to him.

“This is a copy.” Gretchen wasn’t about to tell him of the second picture or about her mother’s message on the back of it. She had stashed that one safely away after making a copy of the picture of the doll. “I know you saw the picture yesterday at Bonnie’s, but take another look. Have you ever seen this French fashion doll before?”

“No,” he said. “But I want to. It’s amazing.” He handed the copy back to Gretchen and rubbed his goatee with two fingers. “Why do you ask?”

“You know my mother is missing. And you have to know that the police suspect her in Martha’s death.” Gretchen watched Joseph carefully. He seemed unnaturally nervous, as he had at the meeting at Nina’s house.

Joseph nodded. “I’m not passing judgment on Caroline. She’s innocent until proven guilty as far as I’m concerned.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that. This doll might have something to do with her disappearance, or it might not. I think the picture is worth showing around in case someone recognizes it.”

“Sorry I can’t help you.”

“Maybe you still can,” Gretchen said. “It’s my understanding that Martha was your aunt. Am I correct?”

“Who told you that?” Joseph spoke a little too loudly, a little too defensively.

“Was she your aunt?”

Joseph rubbed his face with his hands as though he were rubbing away a bad dream. “Embarrassing to admit, but yes, she was my aunt. I’m related to that pathetic, homeless drunk. Or was. We weren’t close, and I didn’t mention it to the club members because I had no desire to share my ancestry with them.”

“She apparently didn’t go out of her way to cultivate alliances,” Gretchen said.

Joseph nodded. “She led a self-absorbed life, at least after the alcohol took control. The ability to look beyond her personal self-interests drowned in a pool of stale booze, a common symptom of alcoholism.”

Gretchen remembered what Nina had said about Joseph’s own problems with alcohol and his resolve to beat the disease.

“Did she have any family other than you?”

“A sister in Florida, but they hadn’t spoken for years. She’s in a nursing home in the final stages of Alzheimer’s. She wouldn’t understand that Martha is dead or that she even had a sister.”

“How about friends?”

Joseph laughed bitterly. “Aunt Martha didn’t have any real friends left. I suppose you could count those down-and-out characters she roamed the streets with as friends.”

Gretchen heard Nina’s cell phone from somewhere in the shop playing the Star Wars theme. “Hello,” she heard Nina say.

“Martha had an expensive collection of dolls at one time,” Gretchen said to Joseph. “Can you tell me what happened to it?”

“I’ve had this shop for seventeen years,” Joseph said. “She bought her first doll from me, at a discount, of course. After that, she became very secretive about what she purchased and where she bought it. She hid the dolls around her house, worrying constantly that someone would steal them. She became distrustful of everyone. What’s the point of having a collection if you can’t have fun with it?”

“Then?” Gretchen said, encouraging him to continue. She heard Nina’s voice drifting from across the room.

“I offered to take the collection on consignment when I found out she faced bankruptcy, but she refused. She had a pernicious personality. Her fingers were caustic, destroying everything she touched. And she never let go. I don’t know what happened to her collection. I have to assume that she acted with her typical irrational behavior, and the collection is lost forever.”

“You hesitated before answering. You don’t believe it, do you?”

Joseph shrugged. “She cared about those dolls in a way she never cared about any living person. She would have died for them before she’d let anyone take them.”

Maybe she did die for them.

“Last I saw her, she was hopelessly lost in one of many bouts of what I called schizophrenic paranoia. She showed up here at the shop. Someone was always out to get her. Nations plotted to overthrow her. This time the secret agent stalking her was someone she called ‘the Inspector.’ I assumed she meant the state of Arizona was finally going to force her into a rehab program. Too bad they didn’t move a little quicker.”

Nina came around the corner, her face as white as unpainted china.

“What’s wrong?” Gretchen asked, afraid to hear the answer.

“They found your mother’s car,” Nina said, her voice thick and shaky, “in northern Scottsdale.”

“And?”

Gretchen watched Nina’s mouth slowly form the words. “The car left the road and ran into a drainage ditch. It must have rolled several times, because it landed upside down.”

Gretchen’s hands flew to her mouth. “No,” she said in disbelief. “Is she…?”

“Caroline’s in critical condition at Scottsdale Memorial. She’s in surgery right now.”