The Dollmaker

Twenty-Eight

Late that afternoon, Dave drove into Baton Rouge and located the address on the back of the photograph that Desiree Choate had given him. The house was only a few blocks from Louisiana State University, in an historical neighborhood that reminded him of the Garden District in New Orleans. A live oak canopy covered the streets, and the homes were a mix of colonial, Victorian and Greek Revival, most with tall chimneys and wraparound galleries.

He pulled to the curb in front of a stately redbrick colonial with dark green shutters and tall, white columns in the front. It was cool and shady beneath the trees, and he sat for a moment, enjoying the breeze through his open window. When he got out of the truck, he saw a woman in a straw hat next door, down on her knees weeding a flower bed. She looked up when she heard his door slam, gazed at him curiously for a moment, then went back to her work.

Dave stood on the sidewalk in front of the house. A wrought-iron gate was set in the garden wall, and he could see orange and yellow hibiscus blazing through the pikes.

The trim on the house looked freshly painted and the lawn was cut and watered. As he contemplated going up to knock on the door, the woman in the straw hat came to the edge of her yard and hollered over to him.

“If you’re looking for the new owners, they haven’t moved in yet.”

Dave turned and walked over to join her. She was in her late fifties or early sixties, slim and handsome in bright orange capris and a white cotton blouse tied at the waist. Her cheeks were red from the heat, but she still managed to have the fresh, crisp look of a woman who came from a world of good breeding, good manners and good connections. She’d been weeding her own flower beds, not because she had to, but because she liked to, Dave surmised.

“I’m not looking for the new owners,” he said, taking out his identification and P.I. license. “My name is Dave Creasy. I’m a private investigator. I’m trying to locate a family who used to live here.”

She glanced at his I.D., then her gaze lifted to his bruised face, a glint of curiosity in her eyes. “I’m Doatsy Benoit. I’ve lived here for nearly forty years so if you can tell me a name, I may be able to help you.”

“The only thing I have is a photograph.” He took the snapshot from his pocket and handed it to her. “Do you recognize any of these children?”

The woman held the picture out in front of her. “Well, I certainly do. The little girl in the yellow dress is my niece, Annie. And the others used to live in this neighborhood. I’ve known most of them all their lives. They’re grown up now and scattered across the country.” “Can you tell me who the child is at the end of the table?”

“That’s Maddy Cypher. This must have been taken at her seventh birthday party. It was a long time ago, but I remember because Annie was visiting from Monroe that week. Maddy’s mother, Katherine, saw us outside one day and came over to ask Annie to the party.” The woman paused, smiling. “Now you have to understand, Annie was a real tomboy. She hated dress-up parties, and I all but had to hog-tie her to get her to go. But I thought it was the neighborly thing to do, and besides, I always felt so sorry for poor Katherine. She just seemed so lost and lonely, bless her heart. Not a single friend in the neighborhood, and you hardly ever saw her out and about.”

“When did the family move away?”

The woman thought for a moment. “My goodness, it must have been thirty years ago. In fact…they left rather abruptly the night after Maddy’s party. I never saw any of them again.”

“Do you have any idea why they left so suddenly?”

Her eyes darkened. “Why are you looking for the Cyphers?”

“I’m working on a case involving a missing child. I have reason to believe the little girl in this photo may somehow be connected.”

Doatsy Benoit’s brows lifted as her gaze flashed to the house next door. She put a hand to her throat. “Oh, dear. In that case, maybe you’d better come in. If you want to know about the Cyphers, this could take awhile.”

A few minutes later, Dave was seated across from Doatsy Benoit on her sunporch, a glass of iced tea in front of him and a plate of lemon cookies between them. She’d taken off her straw hat when they came inside, and her short, blond hair was mussed on top, like a child’s after a nap.

She was one of those women who appeared completely comfortable in her own skin, with the kind of confidence that belonged to the very wealthy or the very beautiful. Dave suspected that Doatsy Benoit had once been both.

“There were two of them,” she said. “A girl and a boy. Maddy and Matthew. They were the same age and looked almost identical.”

Dave frowned. Savannah Sweete had said her nephew’s name was Matthew. “Were they twins?”

“That’s what I thought.” Doatsy glanced out the window, her eyes softening. “Maddy was such a beautiful, charming little girl. To look at her, you’d never know anything was wrong with her.”

“What was wrong with her?”

Doatsy hesitated, her gaze dropping to the cookie plate. “According to her mother, she had asthma that was aggravated by severe allergies. That’s why you would never see her outside playing with the other children.”

“What about the boy?”

“Matthew? The complete opposite. He was a sad, solemn little thing. One of those unfortunate children who seem to be born with an old soul. I used to see him outside quite a bit, but he was always by himself and it was almost always when his father was home. I think the poor little thing was trying to avoid him. Daniel Cypher was a fairly well-known surgeon, one of those brilliant, handsome men who casts a big shadow. The kind, I suspect, who would have a lot of expectations for his children, especially his son.”

“How well did you know the Cyphers?”

“Not well at all, I’m afraid. But they were right next door and I couldn’t help noticing some things.”

“What kind of things?”

She sighed. “The kind of things that should have been confronted.”

“Like abuse?”

Her mouth tightened. “I don’t know that for sure. I never saw him lay a hand on them. It was just a feeling I got from some of the things Katherine said. She and Daniel were so secretive and stand-offish. I knew something had to be going on inside that house.”

“Did they have any other family in the area?”

“Not that I know of. Although I do seem to recall her mentioning something about a sister once. She didn’t say much about her, but I had the impression they weren’t close.”

Doatsy paused, then nodded toward the photograph that lay on the table between them. “I’ll tell you what I do remember. On the day of that party, Daniel came home unexpectedly and he sent all the children home early. I was working in my garden when Annie got back, and a little while later, I heard loud voices coming from next door. I knew Katherine and Daniel had to be fighting, and I was afraid of what he might do to her. He seemed to have a terrible temper. So I walked over and rang the bell.

“Katherine answered the door, pale and trembling. She said she was fine, just had a little dizzy spell. Later that night, I saw Daniel and Matthew come out of the house carrying suitcases. Not the kind of overnight bags you might take to the hospital or on a brief trip, but several large bags. Daniel put the luggage in the trunk while Matthew climbed into the back seat. Then Daniel got in and they drove off. As I said, I never saw any of them again.”

“What about the mother and the little girl?”

Doatsy’s gaze went back to the window, where she had a view of the house next door. “They didn’t leave with Daniel and Matthew that night, but I never saw them again either.”

“What did you think happened to them?”

“It was awhile before I found out,” Doatsy said mysteriously. “My sister used to be a nurse and she worked at the same hospital as Dr. Cypher. I mentioned to her one day that I was worried about Katherine and Maddy. She knew we were neighbors, but she would never gossip about Dr. Cypher while he was still on staff. That day she told me that Dr. and Mrs. Cypher didn’t even have a daughter. They had only one child and he was a son.”

“So who was the little girl?”

“There was no little girl.” Doatsy’s gaze met Dave’s and she nodded. “That’s right. Maddy and Matthew were one and the same child. Nowadays, the proper term for someone like Matthew is intersexual. Babies born with ambiguous gender. My sister was on duty the night he was delivered, and she said Dr. Cypher was beside himself. He was almost in a fit of rage.”

“Directed at whom?”

“His poor wife, I suspect. Or maybe God.”

“What about Matthew?”

“This was back in the early seventies, and my sister said that surgery on intersexed babies was still routinely ordered by the attending physician, and often requested by the parents. You would assume that most did so out of love. No parent would want to see their child shunned and stigmatized for being different. But Daniel Cypher?” She said his name in disgust. “I’ve known powerful men like him all my life. He probably considered a child like Matthew as an affront to his own masculinity. So he ordered reassignment.”

“Meaning surgery.”

“A very complicated and painful surgery with more to come as the child grew older. And then injections of hormones when he hit puberty.” She put a hand to her mouth as she shook her head sadly. “Can you imagine how confused that little boy must have been? A cold, domineering father set on having a son, and a loving mother who indulged the child’s natural inclinations when they were alone. I later heard that Katherine had suffered a complete psychotic breakdown and had to be permanently institutionalized. I shudder to think what Matthew’s life must have been like with Daniel as his sole influence.”

“And you say you never heard from any of them again?”

“No, but something strange happened a few months ago. It was right after the house next door had been put on the market. I saw the same car drive by every night for about a week.”

“Did you happen to notice the make or model?”

“It was a black sedan—that’s all I could tell. But a few minutes after I saw the car go by one night, I noticed a man out walking on the street. It was raining and he had his shoulders hunched over. But he stopped in front of the house and just stood there staring up at it for a long time. And when he turned, and the streetlight caught him just right, something about him reminded me of Matthew.”

Charlotte was sitting on Claire’s front porch when she got home from work that day. Her sister wore a light gray silk suit and heels, and Claire figured she must have come straight over from the office. She had on sunglasses, but she slipped them off as Claire climbed the steps.

She rose, hands on hips. “I tried to call you I don’t know how many times last night. Where on earth were you?”

“I went for a drive.” Claire got out her keys to unlock the door.

“I was worried sick about you!”

“Why?”

“You were gone for hours.” Charlotte followed her inside and closed the door. “That’s not like you.”

“A lot’s happened lately. I just needed some time to sort things through.” Claire wasn’t about to admit to her sister that she’d spent the night with Dave. She wasn’t ashamed of what she’d done, but she didn’t feel like having to justify her actions. And besides, what she and Dave had shared was a very private thing. She wasn’t ready to have it brought out in the open and analyzed.

“Why were you trying to reach me?” Claire asked. “Was anything wrong?”

Charlotte dropped her purse on the couch and turned, but her gaze didn’t quite meet Claire’s. “I need to talk to you about Alex.”

“Oh.” Claire tossed her keys into a basket on her desk. “I already know what you’re going to say.”

Charlotte lifted her brows in surprise. “He told you?”

“Reluctantly. He didn’t want to, but he didn’t have a choice. When I went to confront him, I already knew what he’d done, but I wanted to hear it from him. And even then, I still had a hard time believing he could do such a thing. What kind of man would use a little girl’s kidnapping to cover up a murder?”

Charlotte quickly looked away. “I know, Claire. I can’t believe it, either. I’m so sorry. I keep thinking about all those times I tried to get you to reconcile with him. I thought he was the perfect guy. And now to find out what he did…” She closed her eyes. “I feel like such a fool.”

“But you didn’t know. He fooled me, too.”

Charlotte rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “He’s in a lot of trouble, Claire.”

“He should be.”

“Don’t you even want to know what kind of charges he could be facing?”

Claire walked over to the window, glanced out, then turned back to Charlotte. “Right now, I don’t really care what happens to him.”

“That doesn’t sound like you. You’ve always been the most forgiving person I know.”

“Forgiving?” She gave a bitter laugh. “You don’t know me as well as you think you do. I’m capable of carrying around hate and anger for years. Just ask Dave.”

“You’ve forgiven him now, though, haven’t you?”

Claire glanced back out at the street. “I don’t know. I’m not sure what I feel for Dave these days.”

Charlotte came over to stand beside her at the window. “Sometimes I think you’re still in love with him. You’re just too afraid to admit it.”

“Maybe I am. Maybe I always will be. But it’s not enough. Not with Dave. Being with him is too hard. It’s like waiting for a bomb to go off. You know disaster is coming and so you constantly brace yourself for it. You go through each day with your stomach in knots, expecting the worst. I don’t know why anybody would want to go back to that.”

“Maybe because he’s changed,” Charlotte said softly. “And maybe because you’ve never been happy without him.”

A little while later, Charlotte sent Claire upstairs for a long, hot shower while she went into the kitchen to see about dinner. By the time Claire came back down, she could smell spaghetti sauce simmering on the stove. She poked her head into the kitchen to see if she could help. Charlotte stood at the sink, washing greens for a salad.

“I’ve got everything under control. You just go sit down and relax.” When she didn’t hear the door close, Charlotte glanced over her shoulder. “You do remember how to relax, don’t you?”

“Vaguely.”

Claire was still standing there watching her when Charlotte turned from the sink. “What?”

She shook her head. “I still can’t figure you out. First you take up for Dave, and now this. I can’t help thinking something’s going on with you.”

“I didn’t exactly take up for Dave. I said it’s possible that he might have changed.” Charlotte wiped her hands on a dishtowel. “I’m just trying to do something nice for you. Don’t make me regret it.”

Claire smiled. “Now that sounds more like you.”

She poured Claire a glass of wine, put it in her hand and gave her a little push toward the living room. “Go away, you’re making me nervous. I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready.”

There was nothing for Claire to do but sit down and put her feet up. She closed her eyes and might have drifted off if the phone hadn’t rung.

“I’ll get it,” Charlotte called from the kitchen.

A moment later, she came through the doorway, palming the receiver. “Do you know someone named Savannah Sweete?”

Claire sat up, her fatigue suddenly forgotten, and reached for the phone. “This is Claire,” she said anxiously.

“I hope I’m not calling at a bad time,” the woman drawled. “But I’ve come across something that I thought you should know about.”

“What is it?”

“It may not be anything of consequence, so I don’t want you to get your hopes up. But after you left this morning, I kept thinking about that picture of your daughter. I couldn’t get her little face out of my mind, and I started to wonder if maybe I had seen her before. Or at least her photograph. So I called my nephew and had him bring over some of the file boxes I told you about. I’ve been sitting here going through them all day, and I finally found something you might find helpful. It’s a photograph of a little blond girl.”

“Is it Ruby?”

“It looks an awful lot like that picture you showed me this morning, but I can’t be certain. I think it would be best if you came out here and took a look at it yourself. I tried calling Mr. Creasy at the number he left, but there’s no answer.”

“I’m glad you called me,” Claire said. “When can I come see this picture?”

“How about tomorrow morning?”

Her grip on the phone tightened. “I don’t mean to sound pushy, but could I come this evening? I really don’t want to wait until morning.”

“Are you sure you want to make such a long drive this late in the day?”

“I’m only an hour away,” Claire said. “I really would like to come now. If I don’t, I’ll be worried about that photograph all night.”

“I understand. You just come on then. I’ll be here waiting for you.”

“Thanks. And thank you so much for going through those files so quickly. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

“Oh, it was nothing. I was happy to do it,” she said. “I’ll see you in an hour.”

Charlotte had stood there listening the whole time, and as Claire set the phone aside, she said curiously, “Who on earth is Savannah Sweete?”

“You’ve never heard Mama mention her? She’s a doll maker who lives over in Terrebonne Parish. It’s possible she may have made the doll I saw in the shop window last week. She’s gone through some of her files, and she thinks she may have found a picture of Ruby.”

“That’s great, I guess. But why not wait until morning to drive down there?”

“Because I waited to go back to the collectibles shop after I saw the doll, remember? It was gone by the time I got back. I’m not taking a chance like that again.”

“What about dinner?”

Claire grabbed her purse and keys. “Save it for me. If I leave now, I can be back by dark.”

Charlotte followed her out to the porch. “You want me to come with you?”

“No, you stay. If Dave gets her message, he may call here. You can tell him that I’ve already gone down there to look at the picture.”

“Okay, but Claire…”

She turned at the bottom of the steps. Charlotte stood on the porch, staring down at her.

“Be careful, okay?”

“I’ll be fine. Savannah Sweete is a perfectly lovely woman. There’s really no need to worry about me at all.”

The phone rang while Charlotte was putting the spaghetti sauce away. She cradled the receiver against her shoulder as she sealed the lid on the storage container and opened the refrigerator door.

“Claire?”

“No, this is Charlotte. Who’s this?”

“Dave Creasy. Could I speak to Claire, please?”

Charlotte couldn’t blame him for his guarded tone. She hadn’t exactly been cordial the last few times she’d seen him. “Claire isn’t here, but she said you might call if you got Savannah Sweete’s message.”

“What message?”

“She phoned here earlier and said that she’d found a photo of Ruby. Or at least, she thinks it could be Ruby. I guess she tried to get in touch with you first. Anyway, Claire wanted you to know that she’s on her way down there to look at the photograph.”

“She’s on her way there now?”

Charlotte frowned at his tone. “She left a few minutes ago. Is something wrong?”

Dave hesitated. “I’m not sure. I found out some things today that concern me a little. I don’t know yet if there’s a connection to Savannah Sweete, but I’d rather Claire not go down there alone.”

“What is going on?” Charlotte demanded. “You’re making me very nervous.”

His hesitation was slight, but enough to put her on alert. “It’s probably nothing. I’ll head down that way myself, but I just left Baton Rouge. I’m at least an hour and a half away, and that’s without traffic.”

“Claire just left fifteen minutes ago, determined to find out about that doll. If I can’t reach her by phone, I’ll try to catch up with her on the road. Do you have directions to this place?”

Charlotte grabbed a pen and jotted the information Dave gave her on the back of an envelope.

“Highway 53 from Houma, then a right just before I get to Tiber.”

“There’ll be a gas station on your right,” Dave said. “The road’s not marked so you’ll have to watch for it.”

“I don’t plan on having to go that far. As soon as I hit Highway 90, I’ll catch her.”

“If you do end up going all the way to the house and something doesn’t seem right, just get Claire out of there, okay?”

Charlotte bit her lip. “You’re worried about her, aren’t you? I can hear it in your voice.”

“I’m concerned,” Dave said. “Like I said, I’d feel a lot better if she wasn’t going down there alone.”

“She won’t be for long. I’m headed out right now. Here, let me give you my cell number in case you need to call me.”

They exchanged phone numbers and then Charlotte grabbed her purse and ran out the door. She wouldn’t let herself think about that note of anxiety in Dave’s voice.

Claire would be fine. She had to be. Because Charlotte couldn’t bear to think otherwise.