The Dollmaker

Ten

“Claire, what the hell are you doing?”

At the sound of the voice behind her, Claire whirled. “Alex!” She put her hand on her heart. “You scared me half to death. I wasn’t expecting anyone to sneak up on me like that.”

“I wasn’t exactly sneaking, but I’m not surprised you didn’t hear me. the way you were banging on that door. What are you trying to do…wake the dead?” He’d draped his suit coat over one arm and rolled up his shirtsleeves in the heat. Claire could see a fine sheen of perspiration across his brow.

“I’m trying to get someone to let me in. The store should be open by now, but the door’s still locked.” Lifting the damp hair off her neck, she twisted it up and pinned the strands with a clip she found in her purse. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Just checking up on you. I swung by the hospital on my way to the station, and when I saw your clothes gone, I figured I’d find you here.” Slowly he removed his sunglasses and put them in his pocket, but Claire still couldn’t tell what he was thinking. She’d never been very good at reading Alex. He kept a lot of himself hidden. After six years of marriage, sometimes it still seemed that she barely knew him at all.

It hadn’t been like that with Dave. They’d grown up in the same neighborhood, and even as a kid, he’d worn his heart on his sleeve. From the very first date, Claire had always known where she stood with him…until Ruby disappeared, and then everything fell apart. He’d become someone Claire didn’t know anymore, someone who even scared her at times.

Alex had never frightened her, and in his own way, he loved her as much as Dave ever had. Maybe more. But Claire also knew that even if they stayed together for another twenty-five years, he would never understand her the way Dave had.

She glanced across the street, where the drowsy sway of asparagus fern hanging from a second-story balcony caught her attention. Through the thick curtain of green, she caught a glimpse of a couple embracing in the morning heat, and a moment later, laughter drifted down to the street.

Claire deliberately turned away. She didn’t know why Dave was on her mind so much this morning.

Alex flung his jacket over one shoulder. “So where is this doll that has you so worked up?”

Claire tried not to let his tone irritate her. He probably didn’t even realize how condescending and impatient he sounded at times, or how annoying it was when he got that placating look on his face.

“I don’t know where she is. That’s what I’m trying to find out. It’s after ten. The shop should be open by now.”

He glanced at his watch. “It’s just a few minutes past. Maybe whoever opens up is running late this morning. Probably got stuck in traffic or something.”

“No, I saw someone in there right before you walked up,” Claire said. “I kept on knocking. Maybe if you show your badge, we can get in.”

Alex took her by surprise when he walked over and peered through the glass. “I’m not opposed to flashing my badge, but I don’t see anyone in there.”

“I spotted someone there just a minute ago.”

Alex still had his face to the window. “Are you sure you didn’t see your reflection in the glass?”

“Yeah, that’s probably it. Because, Lord knows, I’m so crazy I can’t tell the difference between another person and my own reflection.”

He swung back around and Claire saw him take a breath, as if he was having a difficult time hanging on to his temper. His fingers drummed impatiently against his thigh as his gaze scoured the street. Except for a brief moment when he’d met her eyes directly, he didn’t seem to want to look at her this morning.

“I’m sorry, Alex. I shouldn’t be snapping at you like that. It’s not your fault the doll isn’t here. But I really don’t know why you keep coming around like this. Every time we’re together, all we do is fight. Why can’t you just let it go?”

“Damned if I know, Claire.” His voice sounded tired. “I never ran across anything or anyone I couldn’t give up if I didn’t think it was worth my time. But I don’t seem to have it in me to walk away from you.”

“You’d be so much happier if you did,” she said softly.

“Oh, I know I’d be happier, that’s not the issue. Thing is, though, I’m not the kind of guy who likes to lose.”

“You make it sound like our marriage was a game.”

“Not a game, Claire, a farce.”

Now it was she who had to hold in her anger. Down the street, the spires of the cathedral glistened in the hot white light, and she concentrated on the glare. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

“I shouldn’t do a lot of the things I do, but that never seems to stop me.” He walked back over and glanced in the shop window. “I still don’t see anyone in there. If you ask me, it’s time to give up the ghost.”

“You do what you have to do, Alex, but I’m not leaving until I see her.”

He turned at that. “Do you hear yourself? You keep saying her. Do you even realize you’re doing it?”

“It’s just a figure of speech. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“That doll is not Ruby.”

“I know that.”

“Are you sure?”

Claire frowned. “Yes, I’m sure. Have you been talking to Charlotte?”

His gaze faltered and he looked off down the street. “Why?”

“Because she seems to think I’m confusing the doll with Ruby, too. I’m not. I know in my heart that my daughter is dead. But I also know that the doll means something. It’s not a coincidence she looks so much like Ruby.”

“So what are you going to do, Claire? Buy the damn thing and take it home with you? Because I have to tell you, there’s something a little morbid about that.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment. The anger inside her was too strong. She didn’t want to lash out at Alex again, but damn him for not understanding. Damn him for making her feel guilty about clinging to the memory of her daughter.

“Maybe you should be asking yourself what you’ll do,” she said. “What if the doll looks as much like Ruby as I say she does? What if even you can’t deny the resemblance? Won’t it be a police matter then?”

“Come off it, Claire. You don’t think NOPD has enough to worry about without investigating dolls?”

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are, and that’s what scares the hell out of me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “This heat’s starting to give me a migraine,” he muttered.

The heat wasn’t the cause of his headache and they both knew it. “The doll is a clue, Alex.”

“A clue to what? You said yourself Ruby is dead.”

“I still want justice. I still want to know what happened to her.”

“Bullshit. Maybe you can lie to yourself, but I know how your mind works. You’ve already decided somewhere in that thick head of yours that the doll is going to lead you to Ruby. That’s not going to happen.”

“I’m not deluded,” she said angrily.

“You may not be deluded, but you’re still grasping at straws.” He moved toward her in the shade and placed his hands on her shoulders. His eyes were level and unblinking and they stared straight into Claire’s. “I’m worried about you. You could have been killed yesterday, and now here you are again. You keep putting yourself through this same shit over and over, and it never ends well. This time won’t be any different.”

“Maybe it won’t. But I’m not giving up until I find out for sure.”

“And so you’re going to stand out here in this heat until you keel right over from exhaustion. Is that it?”

“If I have to.”

He shook his head in disgust. “Have you seen yourself in a mirror this morning? You look like hell. You’re as pale as a ghost and your hands are trembling like an old woman’s. You need to get out of this heat. At least go with me down the street to get something cold to drink.”

“You go if you want to.”

“Claire—”

“Just leave me alone, Alex. Please.”

“Damn it.” He dropped his hands from her shoulders and turned to stare at the traffic, his mouth a thin, straight line. Then he started walking away. “Wait here.”

“Where are you going?”

“Next door. Maybe someone there knows something about when this place normally opens.”

Claire wished she’d thought of that. “Alex?”

He glanced over his shoulder.

“Thanks.”

His face tightened. “Don’t thank me. It’s not like I’m doing you any favors. I’m just prolonging the inevitable, is all.”

He disappeared into the neighboring shop, and Claire stepped back into the deeper shade of the doorway. Putting her face to the glass, she tried to peer through the sliver at the edge of the blind again, but Alex was right. The interior was so dim she could barely see anything. Maybe she really had glimpsed her own reflection earlier.

But in the split second before Alex showed up, Claire had been certain that someone stood on the other side of the door, staring back at her. She hadn’t seen a face, at least not clearly, but she’d glimpsed a silhouette that seemed distinct from the other shadows in the shop. And even now she still had a strange feeling that someone was in there.

Leaning a shoulder against the wall, she fanned herself with her hand. Alex was right about something else, too. If she waited out here much longer, the heat might do her in.

A young woman came toward her down the street, and Claire watched her curiously, wondering if she might be the one to open up the shop. But before she reached Mignon’s, she turned down a narrow alley that ran between the two buildings.

Claire left her spot in the doorway and walked over to stare after her. At the back of the alley, the woman knocked on the door of the adjacent building, and a moment later, someone let her inside.

The alley was like any number of passageways that ran between narrow buildings in the Quarter, many of them leading back to the hidden courtyards for which New Orleans was so famous. At the rear, a wrought-iron fence ran between the two buildings, and the smell of wet brick and damp moss mingled with the scent of the yellow roses spilling over the scrollwork.

As Claire stood gazing after the young woman, she thought again of her dream last night and wondered if she might have glimpsed the alley a split second before the car hit her. Maybe the image had been stamped on her subconscious, only to surface hours later in her sleep.

Her grandmother would have claimed the dream was a sign. In spite of her devout Catholic upbringing, Maw-Maw Doucett had been a big believer in omens and presages, and had been buried, at her request, with the silver dime she’d always worn on a string tied around her neck.

Claire was more inclined to think that the shock of seeing the doll and the trauma of the accident had produced her strange visions. She entered the alley without hesitation, sidestepping a puddle left from the night’s rainstorm.

But as she slowly walked down the weathered pathway, she couldn’t get the dream out of her head. The sound of a child crying from behind a closed door. Dave’s silent warning as he stepped out of the shadows. And then the shattering of that porcelain face—a face that looked so much like Ruby’s—against the stone floor.

She might not share her grandmother’s faith in dreams and second sight, but Claire was Southern enough to believe that there were things in this world that couldn’t be easily explained, things that couldn’t be seen or felt, but were no less real and true. As she neared the end of the alley, a chill swept through her, and for one brief moment, she had the strangest sensation that her grandmother was somewhere behind her, calling her back before it was too late.

The feeling was so strong that Claire couldn’t resist glancing over her shoulder. She could hear voices from the street, and from somewhere nearby, music drifted through an open window. The sky overhead was clear and blue, the air all around her as still as an indrawn breath.

But there was no one behind her. She was all alone in the alley. Her grandmother was dead and so was Ruby. Yet at that moment it seemed to Claire that she felt them both. The tug on her hands was as real to her as the pounding heartbeat in her chest.

She didn’t retreat, though. Instead, she walked to the back of the alley and peered through the iron gate into a courtyard that looked lush and cool after the night’s downpour. No one was about, so Claire turned away.

The rear entrance to the collectibles shop was set in the brick wall directly across the alley from the door the young woman had disappeared into earlier. Claire lifted her hand and rapped loudly enough for anyone inside to hear her. When no one responded, she tried the knob. To her surprise, it turned in her hand, and she pushed open the door. “Hello? Is anyone here?”

Even with light spilling in, the back of the shop was dim and shadowy, and it took Claire’s eyes a moment to adjust. Then she stepped inside and glanced around. The space was apparently used as a storage area and workroom. One side was equipped with a sink, microwave and an old refrigerator, and on the other side, shelves were crammed with cardboard boxes and packing materials.

And scattered across the surface of a worktable was a grotesque tableau of doll heads, torsos, and a pile of glass eyes.

The mangled dolls were creepy and unnerving in the gloomy light, and when the door closed behind Claire, she jumped in spite of herself.

The room was cold. Someone had turned down the thermostat, and at first the frigid temperature was a relief from the relentless heat outside. But as Claire lingered just inside the door, she had to rub her hands up and down her arms to ward off a chill.

Strings of crystal beads covered the entrance to the shop, and tinkled softly in the air that flowed from a nearby vent.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Claire called as she moved nervously toward the beads. “I’ve been waiting outside for your shop to open. Your sign says ten. It’s after that now.”

No one was there. Whoever she’d spotted earlier must have stepped out and left the door unlocked. If the person came back, Claire could be in big trouble for trespassing. But now that she was finally inside, it would take more than the prospect of jail to deter her from searching for that doll.

Nervously, she parted the beads and entered the shop. The place was small and cramped, but the owner had utilized every square inch to display her collectibles. Dozens and dozens of dolls were lined up on the shelves, and unlike their broken counterparts in the back, the showcased pieces were perfect in appearance, from their frilly dresses to the exquisite hand-painted faces.

Claire’s mother had been an avid collector for as long as she could remember. Lucille had never been able to afford the one of a kind dolls that commanded hundreds, sometimes thousands of dollars, but she’d always kept her eye out for bargains, and she’d dragged her daughters with her to flea markets and yard sales for years. From the hours they’d spent at shows and exhibits, Claire recognized the more common Madame Alexanders and Queen Tatianas. The expensive and truly collectible dolls were locked in cases.

As she made her way around the crowded shop, she had to resist the temptation to keep looking over her shoulder. She knew that she was alone, but all those glass eyes staring back at her became a little unsettling.

Ignoring the flutter of nerves in her stomach, she bent to explore the lower shelves of a display case, but had already concluded her search was pointless. The doll she’d seen the day before was nowhere to be found. As she stared at a collection of antique French dolls in velvet dresses and elaborate wigs, she tried to beat back her helpless frustration. She’d looked in every case, searched along every shelf. The doll was gone, and there was nothing more she could do until she spoke with the owner or someone who worked here.

She started to turn away from the case, then froze. For one split second, a dark silhouette had been reflected in the glass. Claire’s heart slammed against her chest as she spun toward the back room.

The crystal beads swayed in a draft as panic tightened her chest. But in the next instant, she realized that the owner had probably returned and might be as frightened as she was.

“Is someone there?” She took a step toward the beads. “I’m not here to steal anything. I just need some information about a doll I saw in your window yesterday.”

Silence.

Claire braced herself as she waited for an irate owner or employee to come charging into the shop to confront her. No one came. No one made a sound, but she could feel someone’s presence. It was one of those strange sensations that couldn’t be explained, but she knew someone was in the workroom, on the other side of the beaded curtain, waiting for her to make the first move.

She stood very still, wondering what she should do.

And then a knock sounded at the front door, and she jumped.

“Claire? Is that you in there?”

Alex’s voice was muted from the street, but she had no trouble detecting his irritation. At the moment, she didn’t care how angry he was, she was so relieved he was there.

“I’ll be right out!”

Parting the curtain, she peered into the workroom, saw nothing out of place and hurried through, leaving the glass beads tinkling behind her as she rushed toward the door.

Relief washed over her as she stepped into the alley. She didn’t know why she was so shaken. Maybe because she’d entered the shop illegally. If the wrong person had found her inside, the situation could have gotten sticky. But it was more than that. Something inside the shop had badly frightened her.

Claire couldn’t stop trembling, even though Alex was headed toward her down the alley and she knew that she was safe. But the sense of danger lingered, and she could almost hear her grandmother whispering in her ear. Listen to your instincts, Claire.

A breeze drifted through the alley, stirring the wrought-iron gate that opened into the courtyard. A white flower lay on the cobblestones just outside the fence, and Claire walked over to have a closer look.

Against the damp darkness of the worn pavers, the snowy petals of the orchid looked fresh and pristine, as if someone had dropped it only moments earlier while hurrying through the courtyard gate.