9
Antique bisque, china, and parian doll heads were all made from the same type of clay, but different finishes were given to the porcelain. Each doll maker mixed the ingredients in a unique way, and the recipes were fiercely guarded. Parian dolls retained their white porcelain finish, and bisque dolls had flesh-colored tints added to the clay. China dolls were glazed to a high, shiny gloss.
—From World of Dolls by Caroline Birch
When Gretchen emerged from Scottsdale Memorial Hospital at a little after seven o’clock with a cast on her broken left wrist, she found Detective Albright leaning against his car at the curb. He sauntered over to join her.
“I’m looking for Aunt Nina,” Gretchen said coolly while she scanned the immediate vicinity for the red Impala. “She isn’t in the waiting room.”
“Your Aunt Nina tried to hide a mutt in her purse, and the emergency room staff didn’t appreciate the humor in it,” he said.
“Tutu wouldn’t fit in her purse,” Gretchen said. “That’s absurd.”
“That’s what the staff said.”
Matt glanced at her wrist. “Broken, I see.”
“I tripped and fell.” Gretchen’s eyes searched for Nina. She wasn’t in any mood to deal with the police, and the quicker she found her ride home, the better. She hoped the painkiller administered by the nurse would kick in soon.
“Your aunt left,” he said, his lips twitching in amusement. “I told her I’d wait for you.”
“What?”
Gretchen couldn’t believe her ears. Nina abandoned her? And left her trapped with the cop who wanted to put her mother behind bars? What was Nina thinking?
“I can see by the look on your face that you aren’t happy with the arrangement.” He walked around the car and opened the passenger door. “My mother is helping Nina call the Phoenix Dollers club members together for an emergency meeting. I didn’t give your aunt a choice.”
“Is this a trick?” Gretchen’s eyes narrowed. “If I get in the car, will you take me to Nina or . . .”
“Or what?” Matt laughed. “Kidnap you for interrogation and lock you in the bowels of the police station? No. Better than that. I get to hang out with a roomful of people who know Caroline Birch, and I get to listen to them discuss ways to find her.”
He still held the door open.
“You can’t do that,” Gretchen said, sliding into the seat, careful not to jar her arm.
“Yes I can,” he said. “I’m an honorary member.”
“How did your mother get the club together on such short notice and on a Saturday night?”
“Easy. She tempted them with the promise of food.”
As they pulled out of the hospital parking lot into traffic, Gretchen wondered about Nina’s mental state. She had always been on the sidelines of rational thought. But leaving Gretchen with a cop, never mind his remote connection to the doll group . . .
The detective must have intimidated her with his badge or threatened her in some way.
Matt rolled up to a stop sign and looked both ways. “Aunt Nina’s trunk produced interesting new material in the Williams case. She turned over the items you found on Camelback Mountain—a shawl and doll picture—but she wasn’t happy about it.”
“You searched her car?” Gretchen said.
“Standard procedure when someone tries to smuggle contraband into a hospital,” he said. “Some might call it withholding evidence.”
“So, arrest me.”
“Can’t,” Matt said lightly. “I’m using you as a decoy.”
“As in hunting for ducks.” Gretchen stifled a smile. He did have a certain charm. If you liked arrogant witticism and superficial friends.
Matt nodded. “Just like that. I’m hoping your mother will spot you floating in the water and fly in for a reunion.”
Gretchen didn’t like being compared to a sitting duck. “She’s too smart to think there’s any water in Arizona. She’ll know it’s a mirage.”
Bonnie Albright attempted to call the meeting to order with flair. She banged a kitchen mallet on the stovetop. People milled around holding plates heaped with assorted appetizers. Cheeses, crusty bread, fruits, and tiny sandwiches.
All ignored Bonnie.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Tutu coolly surveyed the scene from her throne on the sofa, and Nimrod entertained the club members, who passed him from lap to lap, by being cute and cuddly.
Gretchen counted three purse dogs waiting patiently in their uniquely customized bags. All, Gretchen guessed, graduates of Nina’s fine purse school. Nina really knew how to sell a product.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Give it up, Bonnie,” Nina said, “before you pound a hole in my stove. Pop the cork on that champagne.” She pointed to a bottle and a line of flute glasses. “And come and join us.”
Bonnie shook her head, and her red lacquered flip moved in sync. “The last time you popped the cork, social hour went on for hours, and by the time we started with actual business, no one could focus on the task at hand.”
“This,” Nina replied, “isn’t a normal, boring meeting filled with hours of tedious planning. The agenda for this evening is Caroline, and she’s a worthy reason to stay sober. But I still need a drink. Matt, would you open the bottle, please?”
Nina clapped her hands together. “All purse dogs outside. Rita, please let them out.”
Pandemonium reigned while miniature dogs swarmed through the room like greyhounds off to the race.
Nina gestured at the champagne bottle, and Matt moved around her and worked the cork until it exploded like a gunshot. He filled glasses and handed them out. Gretchen, refusing a glass because of the painkiller she’d taken earlier, raised an eyebrow when he held up a glass, met her eyes, and took a sip.
“Aren’t you on duty?” she asked.
“Yup,” he said. “I’m undercover, remember? I’m blending in. Don’t tell anybody, but this is only water.”
Gretchen surveyed the group. She counted twelve heads, most of them familiar from past visits. Larry and Julia stood in the far corner in a small group of specialty collectors. Gretchen remembered each of them by their areas of interest. Rita Phyller collected Barbie dolls. Susie Hocker, the youngest member of the club, had an extensive collection of Madame Alexander dolls. Karen Fitz bought as many contemporaries as she could afford on a kindergarten teacher’s wages—Lee Middletons and Zawieruszynskis were her favorites, if Gretchen remembered right.
Nina pulled her aside. “How’s your wrist?”
“Broken,” Gretchen said.
“You’re not mad at me, are you?”
“What? For dumping the detective on me? Or for giving him the shawl and doll picture?”
“I tried to resist, but he threatened to call for backup and arrest me. I’m sorry. I really am.” Nina sipped from her glass. “He’s very charming in a rugged sort of way. He was only doing his job.”
“If I remember right, you called him ‘the enemy’ earlier today.”
“I was distraught. I overreacted a little.”
“He’s a parasite. I can’t get away from him. Every time I turn around, he’s right behind me. How did he know I was at the hospital? Did you call him?”
“No. When that nasty nurse escorted Tutu and me out of the building, he was parked at the curb like he knew we were inside.”
Gretchen thought it over. “He’s been following us.”
“I never noticed. I’m sure I would have noticed.”
Gretchen glanced across the room and met the detective’s eyes. He saluted her with his glass. She looked quickly away. “We have to be more careful from now on.”
Nina worked her arm through Gretchen’s. “Let me introduce you to Joseph Reiner. He’s an antique doll dealer from Mesa and is a brand-new member of the Dollers.”
Gretchen followed Nina’s gaze. She would have remembered if she had met him in the past. Dark and swarthy, with diamond studs in both earlobes and a goatee, he wore a short-sleeved pink button-down shirt tucked into yellow shorts.
“I know,” Nina said. “You’re wondering if Joseph is gay. No one knows for sure. No hard evidence, and I would be the last one to start a rumor.”
Gretchen grinned at Nina. “Of course you wouldn’t.”
“Just don’t offer him a glass of champagne,” Nina said.
“Why not?”
“He spent three months in jail. DWI. His fourth one. I hear he hasn’t touched a drop since he was released.”
Nina pulled Gretchen along and made the introductions. Joseph clutched a can of Diet Coke in his left hand, while he asked about the cast on her wrist.
Bonnie called out. “Yes. Tell us what happened. How did you break your wrist?”
Matt had a smart-aleck grin on his face as Gretchen gave them an abbreviated version, leaving out the part about the footrace. Even if Matt had been following Nina’s car, he couldn’t know about her encounter with Nacho, which took place behind a building off the street. So there was no accounting for the smirk on his face at the moment.
Then she remembered the chase across the busy street. Had he been there?
“Clumsy of me,” she finished, lamely. “I must have fallen on it wrong.”
“Speaking of falling wrong,” Nina said addressing everyone in the room. “Martha Williams took a serious fall wrong. I called this meeting to discuss Martha’s death and to ask for your help in locating Caroline. It’s no secret that a note was found with Martha that had Caroline’s name on it.”
Several heads nodded in agreement. Gretchen saw Matt scowl at his mother. She surmised that Bonnie wouldn’t be privy to any more juicy bits of evidence thrown her way by her son.
“And a valuable doll parasol was found in her pocket,” Nina continued.
Detective Albright slapped a hand against his head and looked up at the ceiling.
After a whispered consultation with Gretchen, Nina told the club members about the paisley shawl and the photograph of the French fashion doll and trunk, and about April’s evaluation of their worth. Gretchen heard the appropriate oohs and ahhs when they learned that the doll was designed by the world-famous Bru.
Gretchen could tell that the detective was disturbed by the direction the discussion was taking. It threatened to expose his shrouded secret evidence, and she planned on making her own contribution.
“Detective Albright,” Gretchen said. “Why don’t you show the club members the picture you confiscated. Maybe someone will recognize it.”
“Good idea,” Bonnie said. “Matt, you should have thought of that.”
After sending a scathing look at his mother, Matt went out to his car and returned with the bubble-wrapped package. He pulled at the tape until the items inside were exposed to all the club members.
No one from the Phoenix Dollers owned a Bru French fashion doll, nor did they know of anyone in the valley who might possess such a rare find. Murmurs of appreciation filled the room when they saw the photo.
“I heard that Martha owned a French fashion doll years ago,” Rita Phyller said.
“That’s an old rumor,” Joseph said. “I knew her quite well before she took to the streets, and she never said anything to me about owning a Bru.”
“What was a Bru parasol doing in her pocket then?” Karen Fitz wanted to know.
“Caroline has some answering to do,” Bonnie added, glancing at Nina. “I know she’s your sister, and I don’t want to say anything bad about her . . .”
“That would be a first, Bonnie,” Nina said, glaring at Bonnie then holding up a hand. “I know it doesn’t look good. But Gretchen and I are convinced that if we can locate her, she will be able to clear this up. Has anyone seen her since Martha died?”
Gretchen listened in dismay as she realized that no one in the room had any helpful information. They threw around theories, careful not to insult Nina or Gretchen with innuendos, but in the end, nothing new came to light.
“Joseph,” Matt said. “You said you knew Martha well?”
Joseph rubbed his fingers on his right ear, a nervous gesture, Gretchen thought.
“She’d come around to see what I had in stock. We’d talk shop.”
“Did she ever buy anything?”
“Naw. She didn’t have two nickels to rub together. She only came to look.”
“When’s the last time you saw her?”
“I’d have to think about it.” Joseph’s fingers twirled a diamond stud, and Gretchen could see tension etched on his face.
“We can wait,” Matt said.
Bonnie tittered nervously. “What is this? The third degree? Next you’ll be asking all of us for alibis.”
The detective’s eyes met Gretchen’s. “At the moment,” he said. “I’m only interested in one specific alibi.”
Caroline’s hands trembled as she held the nineteen-inch china doll on her lap. She studied the marking on the doll’s body and stroked the cream dress with dainty blue feather wisps in the design. Was this it? The Madame Rohmer she had crossed the country to find?
It had to be. Could there be another exactly like the one she sought? Impossible. But she had to be sure.
Caroline would have examined the inside of the doll’s head if the pate had been loose. With the doll’s new owner sitting next to her, she couldn’t very well rip its head off.
“Do you have a flashlight I can use?” she asked.
Rudolph Timms’s piercing eyes searched hers questioningly. “Excuse me? I thought you wanted a picture.”
Caroline, remembering her ruse, quickly arranged the doll on the ornate sofa and moved back, camera to her eye. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said, after snapping several pictures with her filmless camera. “It’s not every day that I have the opportunity to examine such a wonderful specimen so closely.”
Rudolph preened as though she were complimenting him personally.
“A flashlight would illuminate the doll,” Caroline said, desperate to convince him of the truth of her lie. “The picture will be more striking with additional lighting.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” He hurried across the room and opened a drawer in a desk against the wall. “This should do.”
To continue the illusion, Caroline arranged the light and took more pictures. Then with the doll on her lap, she tapped on the doll’s head and listened. She tapped again on its cheek. She heard a dull thud. Her excitement grew.
She pulled the wig high and held the flashlight against the back of its head. She examined the face of the doll, moving the light as she worked.